⠀︵ ◞ ᢉ𐭩 ꒰🍼꒱

the world is swimming just a little and his head gives a small tilt as you shake yours at him, looking much too concerned for his liking. there's a pinch to your brow, and your fingers find his sleeve of leather.

"it's me," you say, voice soft and then booming in his ears. everything is quiet and then loud, quiet again. until your fingers hook beneath his chin to make him meet your searching gaze, and it's all narrowed down to you.

and you are an angel.

"let's go back, dean," you murmur, helping him out of his stool. his boots scuff against the floor, and he takes your hand happily once your grip on his sleeve lessens. "you wanna go home?"

his brows furrow, because he thinks he already is. you are.

you are home; safe and warm and all that he ever needs. and you're here, with him. his glittering green eyes flit over your features, pink lips slightly parted as he lets out a soft breath. his hand lands gently on your arm as he stands.

"you came to get me?"

"'course, de. you feel okay?"

he nods. a second of silence and a bob of his throat. "m'drunk, pretty."

pretty.

"i know you are, tough guy. come on."

heat stews beneath your cheeks and with his hand in yours, you begin to weave through the crowds of people occupying the bar. dean stumbles slightly behind you, towering and flushed and looking a little like a lost puppy as he follows at your heel.

and he called you pretty. there's a part of him that really thinks so. maybe all of him, you hope.

the cool air outside hits you in a refreshing wave. dean squeezes at your hand gently and tugs you a little closer, walking in slower steps than usual as you head for the impala.

"sweetheart," he breathes from beside you. "i like holding your hand."

your heart pangs and you force yourself to keep your focus ahead. "is that so?"

he hums, still watching you. his teeth dig into the plush of his bottom lip and he leans down to press his forehead to your temple. a swarm of something warm and erratic flutters about your stomach, and the feeling almost keels you over.

your feet still and you turn to look at him once he lifts his head.

"y'smell good," he whispers, eyes half-lidded and boring into yours. his hands find your waist slowly, gently. you let them. "i like that you're here."

you ache. tender and melancholy, because you've always wished to hear his words. but not like this. not when you're unsure that he even means them at all.

"don't like being alone," he continues, so close that his nose nearly brushes yours. his breath smells like bourbon, but you don't care at all. "m'gonna- i like... you."

don't like being alone.

i like you.

you reach up to cup his face gently between your palms, and he leans greedily into the touch, cheeks a little rosy now from the cold. his eyes shine a little more than before, under the moon's silver.

"dean-"

"love that. when you say my name," his voice is so quiet, low and vulnerable. "your voice s'nice. safe."

his eyes close, dark lashes kiss his cheekbones as he nuzzles against your hands and presses on, forehead bumping yours.

everything is hot, despite the air. your cheeks and hands and face, it's all warm. and there's something golden blooming inside of you, an ache in your chest and a swell of your heart.

he won't remember in the morning, you think. so you'll say it just once.

"love you," your voice is barely a breath, but dean catches it. his brows pinch, eyelids fluttering open. he's staring at something within you that is usually guarded and secure. "very much. let's leave, okay?"

he's quiet and unmoving. a moment passes, and then several. before he straightens with a hesitant slowness and nods, hands smoothing up your waist before he lets go.

his touch lingers and brands into your skin, and that allows you to pretend it's still there. that this was all real and sober and for you. that he really does think you're pretty and an angel.

that you're his home.

you are.

and he'll most definitely remember in the morning.

You were the youngest Winchester — freshly eighteen, still carrying that wide-eyed wonder that Sam and Dean had lost years ago. You had joined the hunting life properly after turning eighteen, but your attention had been fixed on one person from the very first time Castiel appeared in front of you and your brothers.

Castiel.

The angel fascinated you. His voice, the way he tilted his head when confused, the quiet power that radiated from him even when he was trying to be human. You followed him constantly, giving him those big, pleading puppy-dog eyes whenever he was in the room. You wanted something from him — something you couldn’t quite put into words at first, but the need grew stronger every day.

You started small. Sitting too close on motel beds during research. Leaning against his side when the four of you watched TV. Pawing at his coat sleeve or his arm, clinging like a needy puppy. Castiel never pulled away, but he would tilt his head, studying you with that unreadable angelic gaze.

One night in a cheap motel room, after Sam and Dean had gone out for food, you grew bolder. You crawled into Castiel’s lap while he sat on the edge of the bed, reading one of Sam’s lore books. Your hands wandered, pawing down his chest, then lower, brushing over the front of his slacks.

Castiel caught your wrist gently but firmly. “No, not there, it isn’t right.” He said, voice low and serious. “You’re too young.”

You looked up at him with those wide, pleading eyes, cheeks flushed. “But I want it, Cas. Please? I just…I need something. You feel safe.”

He repeated it softly, almost pained. “You’re too young, little one.”

But you didn’t stop asking. Every day, in quiet moments, you’d paw at him again, whispering, “Can I suck it, Cas? Just for a little while? Please?” Your voice was small, needy, and impossibly persistent. You wouldn’t let it go. It became a daily ritual — you clinging, pawing, begging with those heartbreaking puppy eyes until Castiel’s resolve began to crack under the weight of your innocent insistence and his own growing lust.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

It finally happened on a rainy night in a rundown motel. Sam and Dean were gone for the night, chasing a lead two towns over. You and Castiel had the room to yourselves. You had been extra clingy all evening, crawling into his lap again, nuzzling into his neck, pawing at his chest and then lower.

“Cas…please.” You whispered, voice whiny and sweet. “I’ve been good. Just let me suck it. I need it. It’ll help me.”

Castiel sighed deeply, eyes flickering with conflict. He looked down at your flushed, hopeful face — so young, so trusting, so desperate for comfort. “This is…not what you think it is.” He warned. “But if it brings you peace…”

You nodded eagerly, already sliding down between his knees. Castiel unzipped his slacks with careful hands and freed himself. His cock was half-hard, thick and flushed, resting heavy against his thigh. Your eyes widened with quiet awe, but instead of hesitation, you leaned in with a soft, content sound.

You didn’t try to take him deep or suck him like in the videos he secretly watched. You simply wrapped your soft, warm lips around the head, tongue resting flat against the underside, and began to suck gently — slow, rhythmic, soothing pulls like it was a pacifier or a favorite lollipop. The taste was clean and slightly salty, warm and alive. You hummed happily around him, the vibration making Castiel twitch and let out a surprised breath.

“Oh.” He murmured, one large hand coming down to rest gently on the back of your head, fingers threading carefully through your hair. “You are not trying to—? You are very gentle with me, little one.”

You settled more comfortably between his spread thighs, knees on the thin motel carpet, hands resting lightly on his legs. Your eyes fluttered shut as you suckled lazily, drool already beginning to slip from the corners of your mouth. The wet, soft sounds of your gentle nursing filled the quiet room — slow, rhythmic sucking, occasional contented hums, the faint slick noises as your tongue moved lazily against him.

Castiel’s cock gradually hardened fully in your mouth, growing thicker and heavier on your tongue. You didn’t speed up or try to take more. You simply kept the same soothing, pacifying rhythm — gentle suction, warm tongue cradling the underside, lips sealed softly around the head. Every few moments you’d swirl your tongue in a slow circle or press it against the slit, tasting the bead of pre-cum that leaked steadily. It made you sigh happily, the comforting weight and warmth in your mouth easing something deep inside you.

Minutes stretched into longer ones. Your body relaxed completely, shoulders slumping, breathing slow and deep through your nose. Drool ran freely down your chin now, dripping onto Castiel’s thigh and the floor, but you didn’t care. You were floating — safe, warm, anchored by the steady presence of Castiel’s cock in your mouth.

Castiel watched you with a mixture of wonder and deep tenderness. His thumb stroked slow circles on your scalp. “Such a sweet boy.” He praised quietly, voice low and rumbling. “You are doing so well, precious one.”

The praise made you hum again, sucking a little more eagerly for a moment before settling back into the lazy, self-soothing rhythm. Cas realized, of course, that his wasn’t about chasing pleasure.

It was about comfort, safety, the steady heartbeat of trust.

Gradually, your sucking grew slower, softer. Your head grew heavy against his thigh. You were falling asleep with his cock still nestled warmly in your mouth, gentle little suckles continuing even as your breathing evened out into true sleep.

Castiel stayed perfectly still, one hand continuously stroking your hair. He watched over you for a long time, murmuring soft praises into the dark room, but the constant gentle warmth, the soft suction, and the occasional unconscious swirl of your tongue eventually became too much.

Castiel felt his orgasm building slowly, inevitable. He tried to wake you gently, fingers threading through your hair. “Sweetheart…I’m going to release. You need to wake up.”

You stirred with a fussy little whine, eyes cracking open, still half-asleep and reluctant to let go of the soothing weight in your mouth. “Mmm— No, it's comfy…Don’t move.”

“Little one, I’m about to cum.” Castiel warned, voice strained but gentle. “If you want to pull off—”

You made a stubborn, sleepy sound and sucked harder, refusing to release him. Your tongue pressed lazily against the underside as you nursed through the haze. Castiel groaned softly, hips twitching minutely as he came. Thick, warm pulses filled your mouth — pulse after pulse of essence. You swallowed instinctively, a little messy, some dribbling down your chin and onto his thigh, but you took every drop with sleepy determination, humming contentedly around him.

“Good boy.” Castiel praised, voice full of wonder and deep affection. “Such a good, sweet boy. You swallowed everything so well. So perfect for me.”

You whined softly when he finally softened in your mouth, but you refused to let go completely, nuzzling closer and falling back into a deep, contented sleep with his softening cock resting gently between your lips, warm and safe.

Castiel stayed exactly where he was, one hand continuously stroking your hair, grace humming soothingly around you both. He watched over you for hours, murmuring quiet praises into the dark room until the rain outside finally stopped.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

This became a quiet, cherished ritual between you.

Whenever the opportunity arose — when Sam and Dean were out, or even asleep in the next beds — you would crawl to Castiel with those big puppy eyes and paw at him until he gave in. He would sit on the edge of the bed or in a chair, and you would settle between his legs, taking him into your mouth for comfort rather than technique. You’d suckle gently, slobbering happily, eyes heavy with contentment, until you drifted off with him warm and safe on your tongue.

Castiel never pushed for more. He learned to read your needs — when you were especially fussy after a hard hunt, when the nightmares came, when you just needed to feel close. He would praise you constantly in that low, rumbling voice: “My good boy. So trusting. Letting me take care of you like this. You are beautiful.”

Sometimes you’d wake briefly when he came, swallowing sleepily with little whiny complaints about being disturbed from your nap. Castiel would always soothe you afterward, cleaning your chin gently with his thumb, pulling you up into his arms so you could nuzzle against his chest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

One evening, the routine was interrupted in the most unfortunate way.

You were settled comfortably between Castiel’s legs in the dim motel room, eyes closed, suckling lazily with soft, wet sounds. Drool trailed down your chin as you hummed contentedly, half-asleep already. Castiel’s hand stroked your hair gently, just the way you liked it.

The door suddenly swung open.

Dean stepped in, holding a bag of takeout, and froze mid-step. His eyes widened in horror at the sight: you on your knees, mouth full of Castiel’s cock, drooling happily while the angel looked down at you with soft, affectionate eyes.

“What the— Cas!” Dean yelped, covering his eyes and nearly dropping the food. “Cas, he’s eighteen, for fuck’s sake! What the hell are you two doing?!”

Castiel tilted his head calmly, one hand still resting protectively on the back of your head as you made a small, startled sound around him but refused to let go. “He finds it comforting, Dean. It is not what you think. He is safe and cared for.”

Dean’s face twisted in pure disgust. “Comforting?! He’s got your dick in his mouth like a goddamn pacifier! I walked in on a lot of shit in my life, but this— this is next level creepy, man. Get it together!”

You whined fussy around Castiel, not wanting to be disturbed from your nap, and not fully recognizing your own brother's voice in the dizzy, hazy headspace you were in.

Castiel simply blinked. “He requested it. Repeatedly. I ensured his consent and well being.”

Dean rubbed his face hard, still not looking. “I need brain bleach. Seriously, Cas. He’s my baby brother. He's— He's eighteen. Jesus Christ.” He backed toward the door, muttering, “I’m gonna go get more beer. Lots of beer. Don’t… just— don’t be doing that when I'm back.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Castiel looked down at you with a small, amused smile, stroking your hair again. “Your brother is…very dramatic. Are you alright, sweet boy?”

You hummed affirmatively around him, eyes already drifting shut again, perfectly content despite the interruption.

Just a few minutes after Sam laid you down on the motel bed, you could hear the sound of a key turning in the door. His hand only tightened around your thigh, though, almost smugly.

Sammy pushed the door open and stilled as soon as he saw you. your flushed cheeks, unzipped shorts, and of course, Sam's fingers curled on your leg.

"What did you do to him?" Sammy accused immediately, shutting the door behind himself and approaching you two quickly.

"Nothing you wouldn't like to do yourself, Sammy." The soulless version of your brother said, giving your thigh a faint squeeze that made you squirm visibly.

Sammy frowned and his eyes went back to you. You looked so vulnerable, so sweet. He tried to ignore the ache in his heart, the need that he had been trying to shut down for the past few years. It didn't help at all— quite the opposite —the need only flared at Sam's words.

"Are you okay?" He asked after pushing Sam's hand off you, taking a deep breath, and crouching by the bed.

You didn't answer right away. Instead, your half-lidded eyes went to your big brother and you smiled faintly, almost innocently. "It doesn't matter."

He wanted to keep pushing for an answer but you were faster. Your hand moved, wrapping gently around your older brother's wrist and pulling him closer. "I just want to make you happy."

Sam smirked victoriously, crossing his legs and watching Sammy's reaction in real time. Your older brother's heart stopped beating for a moment there, for sure.

"What?" He asked, gaze trailing involuntarily to your exposed abdomen then snapping back up to your eyes. "No. No, little one. I don't know what he told you but—"

"Come on, Sammy." Sam groaned, giving your older brother an unimpressed look. "He's all prepared and waiting for you. This is your chance."

"You're sick." Sammy retorted sharply.

"No, you are." Sam grinned, leaning forward and letting his eyes obnoxiously move down to the growing bulge in Sammy's own pants. "Hard already?"

Sammy let out a sudden huff of embarrassment, shifting to hide the fact that he was, in fact, aroused by your words and the sight alone. The knowledge that Sam was the one to open you up wasn't helping the already less-than-comfortable situation in his pants.

"It's okay." You said, smiling up at your big brother. "You need this, no?"

"I—" Sammy was visibly struggling. His strict moral code was screaming at him to just punch Sam and take you out of here, but the other part of him, the one that wanted you for years, was saying something else.

Sam scoffed and took the matter into his own hands again. He pulled your pants down with one, swift movement, exposing you to Sammy's gaze, to which you responded with a quiet yelp of surprise. You were still slick from your previous release, thighs clenching tightly together in a small attempt at decency.

All the air left Sammy's lungs at the sight and he closed his eyes tightly, desperate to remain in control. Yet, he still turned his wrist slightly in your grip so he could take hold of your hand and intertwine your fingers.

"I'm sorry, little one." He whispered, bringing your hand to his mouth before pressing a faint kiss to the back of it. "You trust me, right?" He asked quietly, glancing back at you once more.

"I do, really." You said reassuringly, squeezing his hand back.

Sam already knew where this was going and his smirk widened. "Aw, look at him, little brother. He wants to make it look less fucked up so bad." He mocked, tilting his head almost curiously. "Will you cry too while pounding into him, Sammy?"

Your older brother's eyes snapped to Sam in an instant. "You're the one who touched him first."

"You should be grateful." The soulless one said, his hand already wrapping around your waist and pulling you up to a sitting position.

"Please..." You whined quietly when Sam pressed your back against his chest and pulled your legs apart, this time not allowing you to hide yourself from your brother's eyes.

"God—" Sammy nearly whined himself, especially when you hid your face in Sam's arm, all shy and embarrassed. It was making his cock throb in his pants almost shamefully hard.

"That's what you wanted, Sammy?" Sam continued teasing him relentlessly. "Your baby brother spreading his legs for you just like you were spreading yours for me?"

Sammy inhaled sharply, moving slowly to sit in front of you, he didn't plan on scaring you any further—it was apparently Sam's job. All Sammy wanted was to reach out and touch you but he was still visibly holding himself back.

"Sam explained everything to me." You reassured him again, trying to put your older brother at ease. That's what he always dreamed of, was it not? "It's okay, Sammy—just take what you need."

Sammy's resolve broke completely at those words and at the sight of Sam's hands resting under your thighs, holding your legs spread out in front of him like an offering.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this..." He mumbled quietly and moved forward, shifting closer so he could face you properly. Sammy was so gentle—much different from Sam, whose grip now tightened and he leaned down to nip on the sensitive skin of your neck.

A soft whimper left your lips to which Sammy reacted almost immediately. He groaned, giving your hand another squeeze before reaching down to unzip his own pants.

"You're too good for me, little brother." He murmured reverently and freed his cock from the confines of his underwear.

"See?" Sam's hand reached for your jaw, forcing you to face Sammy directly. "I told you. He's throbbing already." He mocked, pressing another kiss against your now exposed neck.

You weren't brave enough to point out the fact that Sam was hard as well, his length already pressing and grinding slowly against your backside.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

"I'll be gentle," Sammy murmured while pressing his tip against your entrance. Sam only huffed quietly in amusement as if he couldn't make the same promise. You could feel the way his hand tightened on your jaw after that, almost hard enough to bruise, before pulling you into a searing kiss.

Sammy's own touch was firm but not rough, his arms wrapped around your hips protectively as he pushed inch after inch inside you. He buried himself to the hilt carefully, and let out a sound of pure, unfiltered pleasure. "Taking me so well..." He praised, letting you adjust to the intrusion instead of immediately pushing.

"Yeah, you were made for big brother cock, weren't you?" Sam added, his hand sliding down to wrap around your neck possessively.

You moaned when Sammy began moving, his hips rolling forward carefully, as if he was still afraid of it being too much for you to take. Your back arched after every snap and yet, you started pushing against him, trying to meet every thrust to please him. Sam, however, was nowhere near as soft as your older brother.

Somewhere in between your gentle, almost intimate sex with Sammy, the soulless version of your older brother pulled his cock out of his pants and lifted you up slightly. You didn't even have the time to react—the tip of his length was already pushing inside you too.

"No, Sam, that's too much—" You cried out, but Sam slammed forward, effectively trapping you between himself and his soulful version, their two, thick cocks now buried deep inside you.

"He can't take us both—" Sammy tried but then he felt how Sam's length rubbed against his inside you and a broken moan left his lips. He was a weak man.

All he could do was kiss your cheeks and forehead, trying to redirect your attention from Sam's harsh movements to his own soft hands and gentle gestures.

Sam, meanwhile, simply wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you back down to meet their shared thrusts. The sensation made you whine and squirm, fingers desperately curling in the fabric of Sammy's shirt to hold onto something.

"Fuck." Sam groaned, biting into your shoulder to leave an obnoxious mark on your skin. "So tight. Been saving for us, huh?"

"You're doing amazing, little brother." Sammy cooed right after, praising instead of mocking.

After a few moments, your moans became louder, filling the motel room and probably echoing in the hallway as well. Sam's pace picked up as he began fucking into you relentlessly, Sammy couldn't match it—his thrusts were shallower but accompanied by whines and kisses to your collarbones.

Sam finally pushed in one last time, his cock hitting that exact spot before he unloaded inside you. Sammy followed nearly right after with a loud groan, his head falling forward to rest against your chest shamefully.

You came as well, pretty much immediately after they both pulled out and their cum started obscenely dripping down your thighs.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

That night, Sammy tucked you into bed again like you were a kid—right after helping you wash up, of course. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before turning the lights off and moving outside the motel room quietly.

Sam was already standing there, leaning against the wall with his eyes narrowed and a small, almost sly smile on his face. "And?"

"He's fine," Sammy responded, definitely about to scold his soulless version for being too rough with you. "You and I are not done yet, though."