#nsfk

for re9 let's do grace and grizzled old man leon. then I'll just do the redfields plus jill and carlos. it's been a long week.

Contains: gn!reader, even the non-evil residents are a bit freaky

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1: by @mixed_blessing (x), 2: by @anubis0055 (x), 3: by @kelsk-art (x)

My first contribution to the 2025 @cap-ironman RBB! For which I got this extraordinary and amazing fic by @mobiusonajetski!! Bonus (kind of spoilery) doodle under the cut.

Still new to the 21st century—and to the unexpected quirks of his own maturing, serum-enhanced physiology—Steve Rogers is the last surviving member of the bygone Project Rebirth still young enough to experience the acute hormonal fluctuations that younger supersoldiers had once been prone to as they'd adjusted to their new bodies. Unfortunately, the SHIELD doctor who used to treat these soldiers for their unique symptoms back in the 40s isn't around anymore. Lucky for Steve, there is one man alive today who's qualified to provide the special kind of relief he's needing.

Doctor-Patient Privileges by @fohatic, now on Ao3 (find the uncensored art there, too!)

Word count: 2532 ! Mature !

Nsfw lol 🙏💔

Overstim, safe word, kinda bdsm???, crying (but like good crying), gay, toys, exhibitionism also kinda, kinky lol. Probably more.

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Gabriel had been scheming all morning. Sam could tell by the way the archangel kept shooting him those mischievous glances over breakfast, his golden eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of playfulness and heat. The others were too busy with their own conversations– Dean arguing with Bobby about some old car part in the yard, Cas quietly observing while sipping coffee– to notice the tension building between them. But Sam felt it, like electricity in the air before a storm.

As they finished eating, Gabriel leaned over, his breath hot against Sam's ear. "Hey, Sammy-boy," he whispered, voice low and teasing, "I've got an idea. I think you'll like it.”

Sam's pulse quickened. He knew that tone. "What kind of idea?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady as he stacked the plates.

Gabriel's hand slid under the table, resting on Sam's thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles that sent a shiver up his spine. "The kind where you wear a little something for me all day. Something that vibrates. And I hold the remote."

Sam's fork clattered against his plate. He felt his face heat up, a flush spreading from his neck to his ears. The idea was... intriguing. Terrifying. Hot. He glanced around the table– nobody seemed to notice– but his mind was already racing. "All day?" he whispered back, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

Gabriel's grin widened, his fingers squeezing Sam's thigh. "All day. Through breakfast cleanup, yard work, lunch, dinner. You don't give the game away– no moaning, no squirming where they can see. And if you make it through without begging me to take it out... I'll make it worth your while tonight." His voice dropped even lower, laced with promise. "I'll wreck you so good.”

Sam swallowed hard, his cock already twitching at the thought. Hell, this was insane– but the challenge in Gabriel's eyes, the way his hand lingered, made it impossible to say no. "Okay," he breathed. "Let's do it."

Gabriel's eyes flashed with triumph. He stood abruptly, grabbing Sam's wrist. "Bathroom break, folks. Sammy here needs help with... something."

Dean rolled his eyes without looking up. "TMI, Gabe."

Bobby just grunted, focused on his coffee. Cas tilted his head curiously but said nothing.

They slipped upstairs to the bathroom, Gabriel locking the door behind them with a snap of his fingers. The space was small, with a porcelain sink, clawfoot tub, and faded blue tiles– but it felt charged, intimate. Gabriel turned to Sam, his usual smirk softened by something deeper, more affectionate.

"Strip from the waist down," Gabriel ordered, but his voice was gentle. "And bend over the sink. I wanna do this right."

Sam's heart pounded as he complied, shucking his jeans and boxers in one go, the cool air hitting his skin and making him shiver. He braced his hands on the sink, bending slightly, feeling exposed and already half-hard from anticipation alone. Gabriel stepped behind him, one hand resting on the small of Sam's back, warm and reassuring.

"Relax, big guy," Gabriel murmured, pressing a kiss to Sam's spine. "This is gonna feel good. Promise."

There was a soft buzz as Gabriel produced the plug from thin air– a sleek, black silicone thing, curved perfectly, with a flared base and a remote that Gabriel pocketed with a wink. He slicked it generously with lube (also snapped into existence), then circled Sam's hole with a finger, teasing, loosening him up with slow, deliberate strokes.

Sam bit his lip, stifling a groan as Gabriel worked him open– first one finger, then two, scissoring gently. The stretch was delicious, sending sparks up Sam's spine, his cock hardening fully against the sink's edge. Gabriel took his time, whispering praises the whole way: "So good for me, Sammy. Look at you, already dripping. Gonna feel even better with this inside."

Finally, Gabriel pressed the tip of the plug against Sam's entrance, easing it inch by inch. Sam gasped at the fullness, the way it stretched him just right, settling perfectly against his prostate. The base nestled snug between his cheeks, secure and hidden once his clothes were back on.

Gabriel stepped back, admiring his work with a satisfied hum. "There. All set. Now, remember– no giving it away. And I'll be watching."

Sam pulled his pants back up, the plug shifting inside him with every movement, a constant, teasing pressure against that sensitive spot. He already felt the heat building, his cock half-hard in his jeans. "This is gonna be torture," he muttered, but his voice was laced with excitement.

Gabriel grinned, pulling out the remote– a small black fob with buttons for intensity and patterns. "That's the point, kiddo. Let's see how long you last."

Breakfast cleanup was the first test. Sam moved around the kitchen, washing dishes with Dean, every step sending a jolt through him as the plug shifted. He gripped the sink edge a little too hard, biting back a groan. Gabriel lounged at the table, remote hidden in his pocket, but Sam could feel his eyes on him.

Mid-morning, they all headed out to the yard for chores– fixing fences, tuning up the Impala. Sam bent to pick up a toolbox, and the plug pressed just right, making his knees buckle for a split second. He played it off as a stumble, but Gabriel caught his eye from across the yard and winked.

Lunch approached, and that's when Gabriel decided to play.

Sam was helping Bobby chop wood, swinging an axe with focused precision, the physical labor a welcome distraction from the constant low thrum of arousal. But then, without warning, the plug buzzed to life– low, steady vibration right against his prostate.

Sam's swing faltered mid-arc, the axe embedding in the log with a thud. A soft gasp escaped him, his face heating as the vibration hummed through his core, making his cock twitch in his jeans. It wasn't intense, but it was constant, a relentless buzz that built slowly, making his thighs tremble.

He straightened, trying to act normal, but Bobby gave him a side-eye. "You okay there, boy?"

"Yeah– fine," Sam managed, voice a little too tight. "Just... pulled something."

Bobby grunted, unconvinced, but went back to work.

The vibration lasted a full ten minutes– long enough to have Sam sweating, his cock half-hard, every swing of the axe sending jolts through him as the plug shifted. He had to pause twice, leaning on the axe handle, biting his lip to stifle moans. Gabriel watched from the porch, remote in hand, smirking like the devil he wasn't.

By lunch, Sam was on edge. They all sat around the kitchen table– sandwiches, chips, beer. Sam lowered himself into his chair carefully, but the second his ass hit the seat, the plug pressed deeper, and he had to grip the table edge to keep from gasping.

Gabriel sat across from him, innocent as pie, but his eyes danced with mischief.

Halfway through the meal, the vibration kicked on again– this time medium, a pulsing pattern that made Sam's fork clatter against his plate. He froze, a low whine building in his throat that he swallowed back. His face flushed, cock now fully hard and straining against his jeans, pre-come dampening his boxers.

Dean looked up. "You good, Sammy? Look like you're about to puke."

"Fine," Sam gritted out, forcing a smile. "Just... bit my tongue."

Gabriel's foot nudged his under the table, and the vibration ramped up to high for five seconds– enough to make Sam's vision blur, his thighs clench, a soft "ah–" slipping out before he clamped his mouth shut.

Bobby raised an eyebrow. Cas tilted his head. Dean just shrugged and went back to his sandwich.

Sam excused himself midway through, mumbling something about the bathroom. He made it to the upstairs one, locked the door, and collapsed to the floor, knees drawn up, forehead pressed to them as he trembled. The vibration was off now, but his body was on fire–cock throbbing, ass clenching around the plug, every nerve screaming for release. He was so close to pulling it out, to calling it quits.

The door shimmered, and Gabriel appeared inside, remote in hand.

"Struggling, Sammy?" Gabriel teased, but his voice was soft, affectionate. He knelt down, tilting Sam's chin up. "Look at you, all flushed and shaky. Trying so hard not to give the game away. Proud of you, big guy."

Sam whimpered, leaning into the touch. "Gabe– it's too much. I can't–"

Gabriel's thumb brushed his lip. "You can. You're doing amazing. Think about how proud I'll be if you make it through dinner. How I'll reward you tonight– slow and deep, making you beg for hours." He leaned in, kissed Sam, slow and teasing. "But if you wanna stop, say the word. No shame."

Sam hesitated, trembling, but the challenge in Gabriel's eyes– the pride already there– sparked something in him. He nodded, shaky. "Okay. I'll... I'll keep it in."

Gabriel's grin was pure heat. "That's my boy." He kissed him again, deeper, then stood. "One more for motivation."

He clicked the remote, and the plug buzzed to life– high, pulsing, relentless.

Sam gasped, doubling over on the floor, writhing as the vibrations assaulted his prostate. His cock throbbed painfully, pre-come soaking his jeans, his body arching and twisting on the tiles as waves of pleasure crashed over him. He bit his fist to muffle the moans, legs kicking out, tears pricking his eyes from the intensity. It lasted a full minute– long enough to leave him panting, shaking, right on the edge but not quite over.

Gabriel knelt again, turned it off, and kissed his forehead. "See? You can take it. Dinner’s in two hours. Be good."

He vanished.

Sam lay there for ten minutes, trembling, gathering himself. Then he stood on shaky legs, splashed water on his face, and went back downstairs like nothing happened.

The afternoon was pure torture.

Gabriel used the remote liberally: low vibrations for twenty minutes while Sam tried to read a lore book (pages blurring, cock aching). A sudden high burst when he bent to pick up a tool in the yard, making him drop it and grip the fence to stay upright. Pulsing patterns during a casual conversation with Dean about the Impala, forcing Sam to clench his jaw and nod through gritted teeth.

By dinner, Sam was a wreck.

They sat at the table– steak, potatoes, salad. Sam lowered himself carefully, the plug shifting with a jolt that made him bite his lip hard. Gabriel sat across from him, remote hidden under the table, eyes innocent.

The first vibration hit during the salad course– low, constant, buzzing right against his prostate. Sam’s fork trembled in his hand, a soft gasp escaping before he covered it with a cough. His face heated, cock throbbing painfully hard in his jeans, pre-come leaking steadily.

Crowley smirked, glanced over. "Inhaled a bug, moose?"

"No, I’m.. Fine," Sam managed, voice tight. "Just... spicy dressing."

The vibration lasted fifteen minutes– long enough for Sam to shift in his seat, thighs clenching, trying not to squirm. He left once during the main course, mumbling about the bathroom again, and collapsed against the sink, panting, cock straining, body on fire. He didn’t remove it. He wanted to make Gabriel proud.

Back at the table, high vibration for ten seconds during dessert– Sam nearly dropped his spoon, a low moan building in his throat that he choked back into a cough. Sweat beaded on his forehead; his hands shook.

Bobby frowned. "You sure you're okay, kid?"

"Yeah– yeah, just... tired."

By the end of dinner, Sam was trembling visibly, face flushed, cock aching for release. He excused himself early, made it to the bedroom, and collapsed on the bed, writhing as Gabriel appeared and finally removed the plug.

Gabriel kissed him deep and slow. "You did it. So proud of you, Sammy. Now let me make it worth it." The bedroom door shuts behind them with a soft click.  

Gabriel stands at the foot of the bed, eyes dark and hungry, taking in the sight of Sam spread out. Flushed, shaking, beautiful.

“You were perfect today,” he says, voice low, reverent. “Kept it in for me. Didn’t give the game away once. Took everything I gave you and begged for more with those pretty eyes.”

Sam’s breath hitches, a wrecked little sound. “Gabe–”

“Shh.” Gabriel crawls onto the bed, slow and predatory, pushing Sam’s thighs apart with gentle hands. “Your reward, baby. Gonna take my time with you.”

He starts with his mouth; slow, open kisses down Sam’s throat, across his collarbones, lingering on every mark from the day. Sam’s hands fist in the sheets, hips already rocking helplessly.

Gabriel licks a stripe up Sam’s cock, swirling his tongue around the head until Sam’s sobbing, oversensitive and desperate.

“Please- Gabe– need you inside– ”

Gabriel hums, pulls back just long enough to slick his fingers- two sliding in easily, Sam still open and wet from the plug. Sam is right on the edge, jerking his hips- when Gabriel crooks them just right, nails Sam’s prostate on the first try.

Sam comes instantly hard and untouched, back arching off the bed, a raw cry tearing out of him as he spills over his own stomach.

Gabriel doesn’t stop.

He keeps pressing, slow and deep, drawing it out until Sam’s shaking, tears slipping free, body jerking with every aftershock.

“That’s one,” Gabriel whispers, kissing the tears away. “Gonna give you so many tonight, baby. You earned every single one.”

He works Sam open slow again, with three fingers, then four, until Sam’s a pleading, writhing mess, cock hard despite the overstimulation.

Only then does Gabriel apply lube on his cock, lines up, and slides home. One long, smooth thrust that bottoms out and punches a broken moan out of Sam’s throat. Gabriel sets a slow, deep rhythm- every stroke dragging over Sam’s prostate, hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. He leans down, kisses Sam filthy and tender, swallowing every sound.

“Love how you feel,” Gabriel murmurs against his mouth. “Love how you fall apart, for me. All mine.”

Sam can only cling, sobbing “yours– yours–” as Gabriel fucks him steady and relentless.

The second orgasm hits like a wave, whole body locking up, coming dry with a shattered cry.

Gabriel keeps going.

Third orgasm, (slower, deeper), until Sam’s voice is gone and he’s just trembling, tears streaming, clinging to Gabriel like he’s the only thing keeping him on earth.

Gabriel finally lets himself go on the fourth, burying deep, groaning Sam’s name against his shoulder, filling him slow and hot. They collapse together- Gabriel’s weight a perfect anchor, arms wrapped tight around Sam’s trembling body. He kisses every tear, every shudder, whispering love and praise until Sam’s breathing evens out.

Sam’s voice is barely a whisper, wrecked and blissed-out. “Worth it… holy shit.”

Gabriel smiles against his neck, holds him closer. “Always, baby. You’re perfect.”

And they stay like that. Tangled, trembling, utterly owned, the house quiet around them, the night soft and warm.