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thedeviljudges · 3 years

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yohan + physical tough + trauma response

disclaimer: this is based off of eps 1-7, and preview of ep 8; i wholeheartedly recognize that this post may become the worst meta ever depending on how the rest of the show goes. however, i do think there are still some interesting things to note about yohan. a lot of this is also me just talking shit out as i was sifting through all the eps again. i’m more than willing to change my mind or hear other thoughts.

also i kinda, sorta, unnecessarily included all of the moments of yohan and any physicality. a lot of them are not super important, but i do think they help draw a distinction in how he reactions when surprised, alone and around other people.

so, here’s a long ass post that is literally 99% me bullshitting, lmao.

so i wanted to delve more into yohan’s response to physical touch by way of trauma. while i know a lot of us have pieced it together, i think it’s pretty cool to lay it all out visually because i think there’s much more justification for his reactions; not to say it makes it right, but it does really flesh out a fundamental part of his characterization that i think is highly, highly important to understand.

yohan lives on the cusp for reckless behavior, almost as if he doesn’t care whether he lives or dies. the car chase, running through industrial buildings where safety isn’t a concern, etc.

episode one

the first time we see an instance of his disinterest in physical touch is when he first meets gaon. he actually offers him his hand, but the way he goes about it isn’t a handshake. he almost looks hesitant, and then he squeezes and does not shake. it’s truly a split second gesture out of formalities. granted, he’s just met someone he thinks looks like isaac, and might be in a little bit of… not shock, but certainly distracted.

later in the episode, yohan is in an abandoned building with homeless people. he’s checking people’s wrist, but he’s quick about leaving them alone. until, a homeless man comes up behind him and grabs him. in response, yohan swings his arm to knock him off. then, he punches him, steps on him and decides whether he’s worth the effort. again, granted, no one likes to be surprised in a creepy situation like this, so his response? kinda understandable at this point.

next is the scene where yohan catches gaon in his office, where he pushes him against the bookshelf and kinda, more or less, comes off as a bit luring. we know yohan knows gaon’s lying, but a couple of things here. yohan initiated the physical contact, and he did it because of the suspicious nature of gaon. yohan also knows how to use his power and charms to catch people off guard, and i think really, he was messing with gaon when he brushed his shirt and asked him if he lived alone. gay as fuck, lmao, but i also see it as an intimidation tactic, in a way.

i could also pose a couple of theories aside from intimidation if we wanted to squint:

yohan is still in a state of awe of gaon’s resemblance to isaac. he’s not heard his voice or been around the other man for at least 10 years, and now there’s tangibility at his fingertips.

if we want to look at it from the gay perspective, gaon is clearly intriguing to yohan, and as i’ll note further down in this post about yohan in relation to physical touch, i’m sure it could be assumed that this is one of the first people in a long time that yohan has an interest in making a connection with. however, because of his upbringing, it’s clear he does’t necessarily know how to connect with people (ie. ep 7 trying to connect with elijah, eps 1-6 with him trying to non-verbally tell gaon that he has bigger plans than what’s in front of his face. his admission in ep 5 about being monster). more or less, he knows his charms can be used, but when it comes to actually flirting and/or liking someone? it’s left to be addressed, but could be assumed he’s just as awkward about it as when we see him at home.

we also see a small instance of him letting someone dress him. there’s still touch involved, but it’s very clear what the intention is. he has control over the situation, and it’s not a surprise.

the next time he engages in physical touche, again, he initiates it because he’s in control, and it’s meant to be comforting, to an extent.

and then to round everything off, we actually see him reaching for isaac, who is actually gaon in the court scene, but you know storytelling and all that. he reaches for him both in the courtroom and within a flashback.

him reaching out for isaac seems to be a motif within the show as it happens later on, of which i’ll point out.

episode two

we see him initiate a handshake again. at first, to gaon, and then with jinjoo. controlled situation.

later on in the episode is when we see our first glimpses of batshit crazy yohan, an absolute delight and fav, lmao. he actually reaches out to the spoiled kid, and it’s clearly to legitimize intimidation and a position of power.

okay look, i’m not even gonna front, this was a cute scene. when jinjoo gets out of the car, he checks to make sure she’s okay, and they have this moment before they go onto the red carpet where they smile at each other. yohan is confirming she’s okay, and she agrees. again, controlled, and i don’t know for certain if yohan is more comfortable around women, or it’s just mere fact that he doesn’t always have a problem with touch when the situation is safe. he actually lets her take his arm further on in the scene, and yes, it is a public display of niceties, and he knows that.

so in the midst of this happening, we get the ‘devil child’ story. and i want to make note of the bird scene because i do think it’s important to note that people yohan cares for, he’s willing to go to the ends of the earth to protect them. yes, they’re children in school, but the girl next to him is the only one who showed him an ounce of kindness, and yohan is proven to remain loyal to those he loves or trusts in some capacity.

of course, he ends up pitting the rich and the poor kids against one another for their betrayal and making him an outcast. in yohan’s mind, what he did wasn’t necessarily wrong because his sense of justice is based on protection and when people wrong him or those he loves, it’s seeking justice on their behalf or making the situation better - not in the technically right way, but right to him. yohan comes across as a fixer and problem solver.

yohan has a very, very strong sense of trust and loyalty, and we can assume that stems from isaac, who clearly tried to protect yohan from his father, who went out of his way to do so as best as he could as a young kid. yohan values loyalty not because he necessarily wants lap dogs and people to do his bidding. it comes from a place of love and security he’s never really had.

anyway, back to the gala with jinjoo, he does shake the minister’s hand. again, controlled. there are cameras. he also puts his arm around her, and that’s mainly because it’s a battle of the wills, and she’s trying to reprimand him, lol, as if she could. he hugs her a little hard and a little enthusiastically, and you can clearly tell it’s for show.

and then he dances with both jinjoo and sunah. and there is a stark difference between these two scenes. yohan actually teaches jinjoo the proper placement for where she should rest her hands and how to move. he’s actually having a good time with her, and again, it’s actually really cute.

with sunah, he’s reluctant and definitely on guard. he can tell from her demeanor that her intent is with purpose trying to get close to him. at this point in the story, he probably sees it as sunah coming onto him and not because she’s actually the maid from when they were children. when sunah reaches up to whisper in his ear, you can really tell he doesn’t like her being that close to him at all especially because her words may not be overly threatening, but there is purpose behind them, which means yohan’s guards are up. he physically removes her hand and than blatantly turns her down: she tells him that enjoying things alone isn’t fun, and he counters it by saying he’s having a lot of fun.

so at this point to reduce on some screen caps, he meets the minister’s family, has handshakes with her husband and the kid he went after to essentially beat up his car with a mallet, lmao. the handshake is quite funny because they both know what happened. yohan is in control, and that kid is shaking in his boots.

then the explosion happens, and of course, it makes sense that yohan helps gaon after he’s hurt. gaon has never been a threat to yohan, and it’s clear yohan’s not heartless whatsoever, but it’s also poignant to note that gaon helped saved yohan’s life, thus starting yohan’s journey of loyalty to gaon. i think he’s always had his sight set on gaon to begin with, possibly long before he even became an associate judge, but if this was a test, gaon passed it with flying colors because if gaon can rescue a little girl, and he can help an old man who fell off his bike, would he really go the lengths to save yohan who has shown him time and time again his sense of justice is different?

episode three

yohan reacts negatively to soohyun and within good reason when she questions where gaon is. he turns away because for him, the conversation is over, but for her, it’s not. to get his attention, she grabs him when he’s not paying attention, and of course he has a very adverse reaction. at this point, it can be chalked up to disrespect given the fact that he’s a head judge and she’s just a mere cop, but hindsight is 20/20. he does throw her arm off by flicking out his arm. but instead of berating her, he just tells her to catch the culprits who harmed gaon and leaves it at that.

and then of course, everyone’s favorite scene and rightfully so. yohan caring for gaon? very sexy of him. gaon is injured, poses no threat, and as i said above about yohan finding some amount of loyalty in gaon means his physical boundaries aren’t jeopardized. and for that, we get these wonderful scenes of yohan helping gaon as he heals.

and then scenes of him messing around with gaon by hitting him. truth be told, i wonder if this was something him and isaac did as young kids. anyone with siblings know how that goes. fake picking on each other? fake bickering? yeah.

and then it slowly, but surely, it’s revealed that yohan didn’t have the same upbringing as isaac did. our first instance that something at home wasn’t right wasn’t just the conversation with ms. ji and gaon. it’s the flashback with yohan reading in his room when the door opens. he hastily pretends he’s asleep, and you can see he’s visibly shaking and breathing roughly until he realizes it’s isaac who’s there to give him books.

and that’s also when we get our first glance of what kind of abuse yohan suffered from at the hands of his father. it’s clear this isn’t the only incident, and there’s been many times that isaac wasn’t around to help defend him.

it’s also very clear in how yohan acts when he’s terrified and that his abuse has gone on long enough to be a routine pattern in the house. any time he hears heavy footsteps or thinks his father is around, he visibly shakes and gets panicky.

episode four

i include this scene because it’s been noted that a lot of books yohan reads are about humans, human nature, animals, animalistic tendencies, and he says random shit like this that directly points to what he thinks about humanity and humans themselves. we notice this most prominently at the dinner with gaon and jinjoo earlier on when he describes that he likes the feel of the chew and that he cannot taste. he always mentions hunting and prey, and i think this is one of those very clear instances where he actually reveals to gaon what he truly, truly thinks; no gimmicks. this also comes into play later on in ep 6 when elijah is worried about him being out all night. yohan clearly doesn’t trust people at all. he understands their intentions, their motives and how much pain they can cause other people for their own profit and their own gain. it makes sense that he wouldn’t leave his house, especially if he has a strong sense of loyalty to isaac (even after all these years) and caring for elijah.

this is also one of the very direct moments that yohan doesn’t understand family dynamics. when it comes to people, it’s a giant chess game. not only that, later on in the episode when they’re in the car and yohan talks about how people, no matter what, are always the same in front of greed, yohan is cynical, and he expects the bad every single time.

what he reads and the way he words things (here and the discussion of him being a monster, for example) is clearly an indication that he doesn’t trust; that he cannot trust, nor does he want to at this point. yohan doesn’t understand the concept of kindness being given freely (ep 7 when he berates elijah for being used by gaon, telling her she falls for kindness every time). and yet, later on in eps, it’s clear when he’s around the right people and the right mindset (uh, gaon?? lol), he’s constantly putting up a front.

after all in ep 7 when he tells gaon that confidence is key, it literally gives him away not just in the courtroom but in his personal life. there’s a reason he looks softer at home than when he’s not there (the hairstyle changes and clothing).

basically what i’m getting at is this behavior can be seen as a defense mechanism because of his abuse.

then it’s another gala event with gaon and yohan this time. another lovely favorite where yohan helps him get dressed and then proceeds to drag him around and safe him from the lion’s den.

tbh i dont even need to include these, but i’m doing it for the indulgence.

yohan does sorta physically throw gaon as well during the rich people party, but that’s mainly to get him to shut up because he’s trying to show gaon the truth at hand and how all of it’s pretty much a farce.

later on in the episode is when we first have gaon truly attacking yohan verbally, and that’s when yohan snaps. it’s clear that isaac is a trigger for yohan, especially from someone who speaks out of line on something they know nothing about. gaon, truth be told, had a stupid moment confronting yohan the way he did. i don’t know who waltzes up to a proposed murderer and just asks them, lmao.

but here’s the thing, thus far, gaon has not entirely posed a threat to yohan. whether that’s from yohan planting gaon and guiding him exactly where he wants him or gaon just not being as thorough as yohan would like, and he’s trying to tap into that talent, is anyone’s guess. but as i said above, the one thing yohan protects is the things he does care about the most, and he tries to talk himself out of his own feelings. he constantly compares himself to an animal (again, dinner scene with gaon and jinjoo) to justify his actions, and to possibly not feel anything; because that’s easier, isn’t it? not feeling. so on top of gaon calling him a monster and a killer, confronted with the possibility about being a villain in his own brother’s story, obviously sets him off. he beats down his emotions until he’s confronted with it - and this is what gaon also meant in ep 6 about how it’s ridiculous that yohan calls himself a monster over a victim because yohan can’t even see himself in that light. not because he truly believes victims are weak necessarily, but i wonder how much he realizes that what happened to him wasn’t his fault.

to me, and as i just said, yohan convinces himself he’s a monster to make it easier for himself to belief his actions (ep 5 telling gaon some humans are born monsters in relation to himself). it’s not that he inherently thinks he’s wrong, but i think his guidance for what’s right and wrong was misconstrued without a parent figure in his life, especially if he’d read crime and law books as the focus. yohan’s actions, at least quite a bit of them are, are based on a gut feeling of right and wrong. when you think about it and your own sense of justice, how would that differ without the checks and balances in place? what punishment do you think fits the crime if we weren’t bound by written law? yohan thinks any action to protect those he loves is, more or less, justifiable because it’s a means to an end. it’s making a worng right again.

i don’t think yohan is a monster. i think his feelings, and what he knows is love, is misconstrued in terms of how to express it. we see this in episode 7 with his and elijah’s conversation where she’s just trying to be a teen, but his version of love is protecting her without, once again, understanding family dynamics and the pain points of growing up, the learning she has to do on her own. yohan might technically be right; similar to being book-smart but not necessarily street smart. his theory of telling Elijah that she’s soft for kindness and being used was true, but his delivery and the idea that that’s how humans develop doesn’t work. he’s telling her text-book rules, but people don’t live through books. they live through real life. yohan reads to get a sense of fulfillment and to learn. he’s learned his way into adulthood, but that’s not normal.

so uh anyway, back to this familiar scene:

because we don’t know the actual story of isaac’s death, it’s hard to say what role yohan played in his death, but i don’t know that i believe he was the one who did it. the entirety of the devil judge is relying on unreliable narration, so it’s difficult to gauge (for now since we’re on ep 7) how this will turn out and what happened, but to me, it really comes across as yohan upset over the insinuation that he could be the one to cause the death of the one person he loved the most. plus, i think it says a lot that he cares/loves elijah, and she was part of isaac. gaon crossed a thine line. yohan essentially welcomed him in, and this is gaon toeing it. we can also look at this is not gaon being an outsider to their family, but now has become part of the family, and so it’s easier for yohan to be ‘abusive,’ if you will, rather than the perspective of gaon still on the sidelines and pushing too far. by this i mean, the accusations made by gaon threatens their formulating family dynamics.

and once again, the only person he ever actually reaches out for is isaac.

and then we have the aftermath of yohan’s nightmare, where he’s still caught in the dream as gaon comes in, and refuses to be touched after, even if gaon’s intention is to see if he’s okay. yohan makes it very clear to gaon not to touch him, and that’s when elijah comes in with a very accusatory ‘what are you two doing?’ in this moment, yohan is not just vulnerable, but he’s emotionally sensitive. i’ve no doubt he’s still dealing with a form of sensory overload from his dream.

and then, i don’t know that this was necessary? was it necessary?

the following set of scenes are the ones where gaon tells him he’s a victim and he hasn’t confronted his own emotions about his abuse. i think yohan realizes gaon is right to some degree, but it is convoluted, and it’s not so simple to face your own traumas. however, he does for a moment after gaon leaves, remember another instance of abuse he couldn’t stop but wishes he could, wishing a parental figure of sorts would’ve come in to save him like his older self is trying to save the kid version if only he could turn back time, if only he had the power to do what he wish someone else had done for him.

and then the kidnapping scene is just. fucked up in and of itself. it actually makes my skin crawl. not because sunah is scary necessarily, but the lack of autonomy yohan has - especially when we find out later more of sunah’s story. to do something like this after what she’s suffered through makes this scene even more disturbing.

you can see the moment yohan hears heels when sunah (not knowing it’s her yet) comes in. literally the minute he knows someone’s headed his way, he checks the fuck out. his whole face goes slack, especially when sunah reveals herself. and when she’s kissing him? blank as fuck, too. it’s the most dead-eyed stare i think we’ve seen from him.

episode six

so, we get this gem from elijah that i’d like to touch on later. it’s more speculation and just me running through ideas more than it is canon fact. but what it does let us know is that yohan doesn’t seek people out. he prefers to be at home and staying there.

after we get the maid story, and we do get yohan touching sunah’s cheek, and in some fucked up twisted way, this is his way of protecting one of the things isaac cherishes the most. the point of the gesture isn’t just intimidation but serves as an act of intent, of protection in the only way yohan knows how. he’s safeguarding isaac. you can tell he doesn’t actually like sunah at all as a kid, but uses that to his advantage. imagine yohan learning violence for ‘good’ things when his father used violence for ‘bad’ things. what a twisted way of looking at it? and the irony at hand.

additionally, the main reason i’ve included so many varying scenes of yohan touching people isn’t to establish that he’s okay with being touched given how many scenes there are of him randomly shaking people’s hand or touching them. it’s all about context and what the intent is for. most often than not, really way more often than not, yohan only reaches out for people when it’s socially acceptable to do so and because it’s manners. and yet, even in some of those cases, there is still intent behind the gesture.

the moments he acts out the most are when he’s not in front of an audience, when he’s more likely to be alone with his thoughts and is exceptionally more vulnerable to his own triggers.

and i think the scene after he’s back at his house from the kidnapping is noteworthy because it doesn’t just feel like he’s shaking off the effects of the drugs he was given. he seems to visibly trying to compose himself of the mental and physical play he just had to deal with.

the next scene is yohan angry with gaon for taking elijah out. which really, he does have every right to be angry, and one thing i didn’t note above during the ‘you killed your brother’ choke out scene before is that when yohan is backed into any kind of corner, he reacts like a caged animal.

because we’ve already established the scenes with his abuse, his father took his anger physically out on yohan. so how else was yohan supposed have developed the tools to express it? it’s easy to hurt the things you love the most; it’s easy to abuse the ones you know, and between gaon and himself, they both have an unhealthy dynamic because gaon is old enough, strong enough to take whatever yohan gives him. gaon is not family and so there’s still that clear divide and a distinction as to why he lays a hand on gaon but not elijah, for example. gaon can still pose a threat. elijah is family. then again, it can also be said that maybe yohan considers gaon family, and gaon betrayed elijah and therefore yohan, and you don’t do that. not with yohan’s understanding of family dynamics.

but with that said, it begs the question why yohan keeps gaon around, and i think some of that has to do with the fact that gaon surprises yohan. he might’ve set his sights on him long before he became an associate judge or maybe he took interest after gaon was chosen for the role (this is still up in the air), but deep down, yohan sees something in gaon despite his snooping, despite his righteousness. it could be the potential; it could be the fact that gaon could be better than yohan if he just allowed himself to loosen the ropes he’s tied himself with when it comes to the court of law and the justice system.

but here’s the thing that idk a lot of people have really picked up on. gaon is one side of the same coin underneath it all. he’s also provoked yohan with physicality when yohan brought up details about soohyun.

to be fair, we can say that yohan evokes a different type of anger in gaon, one that he hasn’t tapped into for years that allows him to open up to that more physical side of himself he learned to put behind him. gaon doesn’t really come across as the physically threatening type, but yohan does push his buttons and vice versa.

but then, of course, we have the big fight scene where gaon goes in on the attack, and that’s when yohan makes his threat not to attack him ever again. it’d be easy to say he says it based on the merit of him not actually attacking soohyun, but seriously speaking, the intent feels much more than that. more along the lines of asking gaon not to provoke him without warning again because next time might be bad. most of their other fights, especially the one above,have been in the midst of conversation. this time, it’s from a place of complete surprise, and you can tell yohan goes on the defensive when his first instinct is to not just throw gaon back but raise his fist to strike.

episode seven

the only physical contact yohan has with anyone is the president, and that’s when he turns on the live video of the two of them, and it’s clearly intended to be a lowkey threat. he keeps pulling the president back into his side to be on the live camera after the dude tried to come after yohan. i do think it’s hilarious that yohan manipulated the situation with a live component just as the president and the rest of the rich people thought they could turn a live court show into manipulating the public.

and then, of course, the jail scene. the part where he makes gaon stay. he also touches gaon’s shoulder later just before they leave.

episode eight

the most prominent scene in this ep is certainly the scene where sunah comes onto yohan, and you can tell she did it to get under his skin in some way. of course, he’s smart and knows she’s up to something, but i think it’s so interesting how he wraps his fists around hers, almost as if to tame her and prevent her from trying to further put her hands on him.

we also know yohan has no issue with using physical force regardless of who it is (obviously, his dialogue in this scene, too) when he feels caged or trapped. his intention is also to retrieve isaac’s necklace, and i like how he uses literally anything to his advantage. meaning, he’ll use physical touch, his mentality, etc to get what he wants or needs, even if it is marginally uncomfortable to some degree.

and i think that also says alot about him is that he’s able to displace what makes him uncomfortable in moments like this to achieve an end goal.

additional thoughts

i know this isn’t really common with a lot of the characters in general, and could be chalked up to a cultural component, but yohan’s definitely not a hugger.

the other thing i wanted to note is yohan’s seemingly adherence to touch unless it’s for good reason in relation to sex. the main reason i bring it up is because i’ve seen it discussed a bit, especially in regard to elijah’s comment about him not staying out overnight since the fire. there are a few plausible scenarios, maybe more, but for the sake of this, we’ll go for these.

yohan has had past relationships/experience or will in future episodes

day flings

he’s never had an interest in anyone before given his upbringing and abuse and therefore never sought out sex

inexperience could be from lack of interest in other people and sex itself

he’s never found anyone to really connect with and trust in such a way and has avoided it for that reason

and i bring this up mainly because i think it could be something to explore in fanon, but also because i’m kind of annoyed with how people have been talking about yohan being a virgin. i’m not quite sure what the joke is, but lack of sexual experience does not mean naive or that he doesn’t have a sense of humor when that’s clearly far from the truth:

i don’t know that people find it unbelievable because of his age, because of characterization of yohan being more dominant, but none of these things negate this being an option. i think it’s perfectly plausible of a situation (from what we know right now), and truthfully, it would make a whole lot of sense. i just don’t get the jokes about it that i’ve been seeing online (twitter) when there isn’t a mutual exclusiveness to any of it whatsoever.

yohan already has a hard time connecting with people, and i can imagine that level of physicality could be difficult. clearly he knows how to use a version of it to get what he wants. i’ve no doubt he’s used his charms in situations where he’s needed to. yohan knows he has that going for him, at the very least. but sexual appeal and jokes doesn’t mean having a body count any more than it could indicate there being one.

lastly, i also want to pull these paragraphs from @b612sunsets‘s post because i think they do a much better job than i ever could of explaining, short and sweet, a fundamental part of yohan’s characterization, and mainly what i was trying to get at with this long ass post.

“There's two things we already know about Yohan from the last 6 episodes: he hates being touched when he doesn't see it coming and doesn't have control over it because of the abuse he suffered (I assume). To name a few: Soohyun grabbing his elbow to stop him from leaving and get answers about Gaon, the beggar that touched him while he searched for the fireman, Gaon after punching him and Yohan clearly telling him to NEVER do it again. The impression it gave to us is that if there's a next time he might not be able to stop his instinctive reaction of defending himself and using violence back (something worse than choking or pushing Gaon and he doesn't want to do that with him).

“Unless it's a friendly/small/slow touch like in the breakfast scene when Gaon touches his arm when he gets up to offer them some fruits. When he had the nightmare with Isaac, his walls were up high so even if he could see Gaon's touch coming and it was friendly, he decided to stop it because he was too defensive and sensible to accept the gesture (it would be the first time Gaon started physical contact with him too, he wouldn't be ready for that in such a state).

“The second thing is that Yohan hates when people take what is his or mess with what is important to him. Again, to name a few: Sunah with the necklace when she was a maid, the fireman with Isaac's watch (Yohan made them fall from high places, not caring if they died or not), the guy that fabricated the small bombs that hurt Gaon (Yohan would have burnt his face if "K" hadn't stopped him) and Gaon taking Elijah out of the house to Soohyun without previous notice (a cop and someone he doesn't trust).”

yohan has a very, very large sense of self-preservation for himself and for those he cares about. it’s in his intention, actions, facial expressions, movements, the way he interacts with people. i find it fascinating how calculating he can be, but at home, he’s at his most vulnerable and almost socially unaware and awkward.

yohan is a bit of an irony. he understands people from an action-oriented, instinctual level, but he doesn’t necessarily understand their thoughts and emotions in the waves of nuances that people live through on the daily. like, he gets it to an extent and on a practical level, but he himself is a square trying to fit into a circle - he doesn’t always understand it for himself and has to actively work on social cues so as not to come across as the devil child he was once painted to be.

and let it not be unsaid, yohan really will go to the ends of the earth for family, even if it means stepping out of his comfort zone.

and so anyway, i doubt this offered any real insight, but i think this is my way of breaking all of this down for myself. so, tada!!! lmao

#x #the devil judge #the devil judge meta #*#*the devil judge

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casmoments · 4 years

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The Angel Situation

Prompt: AU in which angels serve as holy entities in individual households. The reader, an adopted Winchester, has been Castiel’s ‘owner’ for some time when she is married off to a dull man. Her angel thus takes her pleasure in his own hands. Reader Gender: Female Word Count: 7500 (mostly smut tbh) Warnings: something of a pet kink (collars, power dynamics). angels are perfectly intelligent and capable but restricted by many rules - and are considerably wilder in this incarnation. ownership is implied to be willingly granted, however. dub-con arguably falls to the reader, if anyone, who wrestles with the moral implications of an angel in her bed.

kinda odd AU but fun to write and i have a couple plot-lines in mind if people like it enough for more.

Your wedding night left something to be desired.

Not to be mistaken: you bore no ill-will for your new husband. In fact, you were quite of fond of the man. Many arranged marriages were disguised horror stories but your husband was kind, handsome, likeable. True, he was very much a product of his world, and he wasn’t too interested in you beyond the necessary engagements, but he was never unkind and you appreciated each other’s company.

Unfortunately, when it came to the marital bed, he was as decorum-bound as ever. Intercourse was a means of consummating the marriage and, later, a means of reproduction. The endurance was thankfully painless, at least compared to what you expected for your first time, but the ordeal entailed a great deal of awkward groping. The consummation, itself, was an uncomfortable union, with no reaction from you beyond dry grunts and coughs.

Then he left. He preferred to maintain the custom of separate bedchambers so there you remained, on your wedding night, completely alone in your new room with only the midnight breeze for company. The tickling wind billowed through translucent curtains, though you soon sealed the window shut. You lit a few candles at your bed-side, carrying a lamp to the adjacent bathroom so you could clean yourself. You returned to your room as you dressed for bed. Your sleeping gown was halfway on when you heard scratching at the balcony doors.

You quickly yanked your dress down, the material sleeveless and falling to mid-thigh. You grabbed a sweater and held it in front of you, eyes fixed on the balcony doors while you blindly searched for a weapon. You snatched a hatpin off your vanity, clutching it tight and preparing to scream as the door inched open.

You exhaled with relief when a familiar head poked into the room.

“Oh, Castiel,” you said, placing the hatpin down. Your sweater followed, forgotten on the vanity as you approached the doors. “You scared me, Cas.”

He made a sad, apologetic sound, sliding into the room. He remained in a polite crouch while closing the door, taking care to lock it for you. His thoughtfulness never ceased to astound you. Angels were wise creatures but Castiel went beyond that. He was a unique angel, that much anyone could see.

Still, the broad ivory wings protruding from his back differentiated him well enough. Like all earthbound angels, his grace was diluted, so he couldn’t fly very well, but his wings were strong enough to push him places. It was useful as angels typically weren’t permitted to walk upright. It was partly in service to mankind, partly in dedication to the Father. Though you were personally lenient with your so-called pet, habit often overrode familiarity, especially in a new environment.

Speaking of which –

“How did you get up here?” you asked. “Did you climb?” He certainly didn’t fly to your fourth-floor balcony. But he obviously had no verbal reply; angels never did. With a bat of his wings, he disappeared from the doors and reappeared at the foot of your bed, tugging the blankets to the floor.

“Hey, cut that out.” You went over to stop him, tugging the blankets back, but he stubbornly wrapped the quilt around his bare shoulders. Though some people paraded their angels without a stitch of clothing, you always thought it a little awkward. Aside from the dark blue collar around his throat, Castiel was typically dressed in black sweatpants, foregoing shirts.

Most of the time, at least. Sometimes he just liked to be difficult. Ripping off your bedsheets and wearing them like a coat included.

“Come on, cough it up,” you said, pulling the quilt away. He reluctantly freed it, then circled where you stood nearby. Holding your legs, he peered around the room. “I’m alone,” you said, sighing a bit. “It’s just you and me, pal.”

You couldn’t help the faint patter of your heart when you looked down at him. He was magnificent looking, all things considered. But most angels were attractive, hence why so many humans were known to adopt them for lewd services. That practice was socially unacceptable, though. Angel sexuality was an unspoken social underworld. Angels were brought into households as consecrated beings, meant to deliver benediction onto their humans. So, of course, you personally never dreamed of crossing that line.

Well, perhaps you had dreamed – but no, not really. Castiel was beautiful but he was an angel.

Even so, your hand found its way to his face, cupping his strong jaw. He blinked up at you, those rich blue eyes locked on your face and searching your emotions. His fingers smoothed behind your knee, dragging almost sensually down the back of your bare legs. He crouched below you, tipping his head in that studious way of his.

“I’m fine,” you said, reading his concern for what it was. He knew you well. You had owned Castiel for years, your parents having obtained him when you were still a teenager. He had always been a comfort, a companion, something of a guardian. He was so clever, and his heart was powerful by consequence. At least when it came to family. He was most affectionate with your brothers, Sam and Dean, and he naturally adored you too. It was nearly impossible to separate him from your presence, though the household staff kept him occupied during the wedding ceremony and reception.

He was clearly eager to see you again, especially after everything. He was probably out of sorts, and he clearly read your similar distress. You stroked the side of his face, smiling weakly.

“Really,” you assured him, “I’m perfectly fine.”

He made a low, grumbling sound, clearly disbelieving. He was upset for it. But he didn’t pry, simply pressed his head to your knees and remained there.

“Come on,” you said after a minute. “The maids prepared your bed over here—” You tried to direct him to the pile of cushions but he wouldn’t budge. Angels didn’t technically sleep, though he usually rested when you did. You looked down only to meet a determined stare. Your returned glance was dry. “Cas, no. You stay in your own bed.”

He answered by vanishing, wings fluttering behind you. You turned around to find him perched on your pillows, staring in brazen defiance. You fisted your hands on your hips, wearing your grimmest countenance, but it crumbled rather quickly. It was an exceptionally large bed and if there was any night you desired company, it was tonight. Anxiety still simmered under your skin. Your new bedroom, though lavish, made you feel poorly.

“All right,” you said, “but just tonight.”

This clearly pleased him, his wings unfurling, feathers ruffling. There was a small but victorious smirk on his face.

“Foot of the bed,” you directed sternly, an order he finally obeyed. He shifted down the bed, sitting atop the blankets while you slid under them. You left the candles glowing; sleep would be difficult otherwise, enveloped in darkness in this unfamiliar place.

Honestly, you were thankful for the warm presence that sidled alongside your body, Castiel’s head on your thighs as he cheekily settled higher than permitted. With a sigh, you shook your head and smiled fondly. He hummed a content noise, born of some low sound deep in his throat, as you ran your fingers through his dark hair.

“That’s a good angel,” you said, watching his wings settle around him, folding over your body protectively. He nuzzled your hand when you held the side of his head. “Good night, Castiel.”

Under a pair of watchful blue eyes, you managed to fall asleep.

Before long, you were waking – and waking to the sound of your new husband shouting your name. Rolling over, you groggily pulled yourself from slumber and blinked into reality. Castiel was standing at his full height, blocking the door so your husband couldn’t enter the room. Said husband was awkwardly jammed in the small gap Castiel permitted, the angel clutching the door and glaring at the interloper.

“Tell your angel to get down,” your husband demanded, both exasperated and frightened. His fear was rightfully felt. Castiel was in the habit of most angels, keeping himself to the ground, so it was always a surprise when he stood. He was notably tall. Lean, as well, but defined with more than enough strength to threaten. It was easy to forget how intimidating he could be.

“Castiel, come here,” you called. “Stop that.” Castiel, with a snarl and growl, turned from the door and approached you. He walked for once, tipping forward when he reached the bed. He climbed up behind you and started weaving his fingers into your hair, still glaring at your husband. “Cas, please, it’s okay,” you said, disentangling yourself from the territorial and overprotective angel. He was clearly not pleased with the turn of events, nor the strange character approaching your bed. His wings straightened behind him, spreading wide. It was an effort to render himself imposing, a confrontational tactic.

“I don’t think he likes me,” your husband said, shrugging off his dressing gown. He did so hesitantly, wearing only boxer shorts beneath. He uncomfortably watched your angel while disrobing. “Is he always like this?”

“Kinda. Yeah,” you admitted, turning to Castiel. His wing curved around you, both his arms slipping around your waist and pulling you against him. “He has a good heart,” you promised, patting Castiel’s hands as he shoved his face in your hair, still throwing the occasional dark glance to your husband. “He just needs to get used to you. Angels are fiercely loyal and also, well, plainly fierce. He’ll come around once he trusts you.”

“Well, for now can you please get him off the furniture?”

“Cas, go sit over there, please.” It took some persuading, but the angel finally prised himself from your side. With a final glare directed at your husband, Castiel disappeared with a flutter of his wings. He reappeared across the room, settling into the cushions. An eye of scrutiny was fixated on your husband.

“Is he… going to stay…?” Your husband asked, staring at the intense angel. You glanced between them then shrugged.

“Um, probably. If you send him away now, he’ll probably just get mad.”

“Will he stay over there? Far away?”

“Yes,” you said with a little laugh, touching your husband’s shoulder. He finally looked at you, expression softening. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Yes, there was,” he replied, then he lowered your bedsheets and climbed into bed beside you. “And I should hope you don’t mind indulging me.”

Oh. You were honestly a little surprised to have him in your bed again so soon, but you didn’t have any protestations. It was actually a pleasant surprise.

Although the affair was still a bit lacklustre. You knew better than to anticipate a whirlwind passion, the sort of romps that tantalized on storybook pages but disappointed in actuality, but you still hoped for the mildest kindling of fire. Instead, you found yourself on your back, your husband lubricating his own cock and slickening your entrance, hardly touching you beyond that. Then he was on top of you and inside you. Several gasping thrusts and one orgasm – his – later, you were slumping against the pillow and he was rolling off you.

“Thank you, wife,” he said, climbing out of bed. “I will be busy for some time but, don’t worry, I will find the time to return to you when I can.” He spoke like his lovemaking was a true gift, which was preposterous, but left you wondering if maybe you were just picky. Most girls your age didn’t experience orgasms either. You didn’t even really know how to get there yourself, always growing tired before reaching that peak. Sex was a duty and little more. So you conceded, things with your husband were not that bad.

You remained in bed until he had gone, closing the door behind himself. He had tossed your nightdress somewhere so you slid out of bed naked, wrapped in a sheet for modesty. Castiel was the only other presence in the room, but you felt a bit strange crossing him in only a sheet, never mind less. You told yourself it was ridiculous to feel that way, but you felt it regardless.

You had maybe watched one too many angel/human pornography videos as a teenager. A familiar blush still tickled your belly and worked its way through your body. Your cheeks were a little pink, knowing your own angel was close while you and your husband were intimate.

You went to your bathroom, taking care of the messy remnants of your morning quickie. Once you were clean and feeling fresh, you wrapped yourself in your sheet again and returned the bedroom. Castiel was comfortably draped over his cushions, a wing curled around him so he could groom the tip. He looked at you as you entered and you smiled, nothing more than that, sweeping towards your vanity.

Occupied with thought and rifling through the contents of your vanity, you didn’t hear the flutter of wings. You only noticed Castiel had moved when you looked in the mirror and saw him standing there. You jumped, startled.

“Cas, you need to stop scaring me like that.”

You stared at him through the mirror, swallowing hard when he neared. His height was imposing. Again, you found yourself overwhelmed by the sheer, almost human masculinity – stronger, still, for his celestial qualities. But you didn’t feel threatened, you never did, as his gaze affectionately roamed your naked shoulders. He was either unaware or uncaring to your own stare, watching him through the mirror. Your gaze wandered those blue eyes, the perpetually mussed hair, the supple and completely out-of-bounds lips.

You shook your head, but then your gaze lowered to the collar around his neck. Deep blue, highlighting his eyes, it was a symbol he was yours. Of course the steadfast affection in his gaze, the gaze of a creature that could be brash and wild, made that clear enough.

You shivered when he lifted a hand and stroked it across your back, his wings gently beating.

“Cas—” you began, a vague protest on your lips. This wasn’t healthy, this wasn’t good, surely. Distance was necessary and if you didn’t acquire it immediately then, well, you weren’t sure what you would do.

Mewl in weak submission, apparently, as he nosed the shell of your ear and down the curve of your neck. His warm breath slipped over your skin. Though the space between your legs was a little sore, you couldn’t deny the sudden warmth. It coiled in your belly and smoothed downward, strange and unfamiliar, even while logically recognized. He gathered your hair, pulling it off your shoulder, breathing a little harder into your skin.

“Castiel,” you said. In your head it was stern but aloud, it fractured. Your eyes almost closed and you bit your lip, clutching the sheet tightly when he touched his mouth to your shoulder. In between his rough sounds of obvious pleasure, he left warm, clumsy kisses on your skin, open-mouthed and wet – and then he bit the juncture between your shoulder and neck. It was like a little wake up call, the sudden and foreign heat washing through you. You squeaked, pulling away.

You didn’t go far, catching yourself on the vanity as you stumbled forward. You gripped the lip of the table, staring at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was gathered over one shoulder, the other pinkened thanks to his ministrations. Your face was flushed, pupils dilated, and you couldn’t seem to close your mouth for how heavy you breathed. The feelings running through you were electric, enticing and provocative and oh so tempting. But the creature behind you was a holy gift brought into your household, an angel, an off-limits creature who looked human but was different and –

“Castiel,” you whimpered, quivering with nerves and something else as he pulled the sheet from your body. He kept making pleased sounds, deep and coarse in his throat, and his quiet rumbling turned to a moan as the sheet fell to the floor. You pressed your thighs together, the wet heat between your legs making you blush all over, but Castiel was uncaring to human insecurities. He lowered himself behind you, hotly kissing the curve of your shoulder, bicep, shoulder-blade, the dip of your spine, your backside, your hip.

Then he was on his knees behind you, mouth working down the outside of your thigh. You clutched the vanity so tight, you almost wondered if you could snap it.

You need to stop this, you told yourself. You shook your head, not sure if it was refusal to your thought or action. He nipped below your rear and you thought, now, surely now you can stop, but then his large, rough hands grabbed your hips and turned you. He groaned with deep, desperate pleasure, and you looked down to see his cock tenting his pants. As you had bathed and groomed him on an occasion or two, you knew it was no small matter, and though it never bothered you to consider before, it suddenly had you gasping as vividly inappropriate images floated to mind.

With your thighs pressed closely together, he licked his way between them, like he could wedge them apart with enough gentle coaxing. You still clutched the vanity, arms twisted, chest thrust forward and heaving with breath. When he saw you wouldn’t open your legs, his hands skimmed around to cup your ass, drawing you close to his face. You realized he was breathing in your scent, looking up at you with heady, darkening eyes.

Honestly, you weren’t sure what you would have allowed had someone not interrupted. Three loud knocks to your door had you jumping out of your skin, panicked gaze thrown sideways. Castiel paused as well, siting back on his heels and glancing at the door.

“Who—who is it?” you asked, breathless.

“It’s me, Miss,” your chambermaid’s voice returned. You groaned, clutching your neck where you swore his bite still tingled.

“Can you come back in a bit?” you asked. “I’m just getting dressed.”

“Certainly.”

Footsteps retreated and you breathed out, shoulders slouching with relief. Sufficiently distracted, you found the resolve to pull away. You snatched your sheet off the floor and hugged it to your body, turning away from Castiel. He sat back on the floor, blinking up at you. He seemed to anticipate your response but his stare was no less fiery for it.

“St-stop it,” you stammered, forcing wrath into your expression. “You know better—” You voice cracked, admonition ended when he started palming himself through his pants. His cock was hard, perhaps as achingly aroused as your own body, and he sought to alleviate tension as best he could. With his lips parted, pupils thick, and a hoarse groan passing his mouth, your terribly depraved angel seemed hell-bent on destroying you.

“Go—go to the bathroom,” you demanded, looking away from him. “I don’t want to see you.” His wings tentatively reached toward you but you shook your head, stepping away. “I said go!”

Glowering, your stubborn angel disappeared. The flap of wings in the adjacent chamber indicated he did as you said. You went over and closed the door, then crumpled against it and stifled a groan. Looking over your shoulder to ensure you were alone, that he hadn’t returned, you moved the sheet aside and slipped your hand between your legs. You closed your mouth, lips pressed tightly together, eyes shut.

You had never felt so wet down there, and your unsatisfied sex protested at you ignoring it. Breathing unevenly, you wiped your hand on the sheet and went to get dressed.

The throbbing between your legs died down eventually.

You just had to fight its return every time you so much as thought about your angel.

Castiel curled up at the foot of your bed, reading your frustration when you turned in to sleep. You didn’t want to distance him but it was imperative until you worked out your silliness. It wasn’t the first time your thoughts wandered to such depravity, but it was the first time he reciprocated, and that was a dangerous road. You were an adult now. That came with responsibilities. You never quite expected this to be one of them, but that was life.

You went to bed, your distance kept. Your conscious resolve was sturdy.

Your unconscious resolve… not so much.

You dreamed of a body atop of yours, much like your husband’s had been, only the face revealed was very different. Castiel’s hands moved down your body, groping with all the tender dexterity of the day before. You were lost in the throes of gasping, writhing pleasure, his fingers circling your entrance as your husband had done. Then he was naked and pressing against you and – and you woke up.

Groaning, you squinted in the sunlight which poured through your window, sheer curtains doing little to contain the golden glow. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. Fleetingly did you glance down at Castiel. It was so unfair that angels should be this beautiful, you thought to yourself, looking over his sleeping form. His wings covered him, his arms tucked under his head. He was closer to you than when you fell asleep, but you mostly expected that from him.

You looked to the ceiling, then glanced at him once more. Gnawing your lower lip, you figured you had a fleetingly opportunity to test your curiosities. You slipped your hand beneath the covers, lifting your nightdress and sliding your fingers into your panties. You mumbled nonsensically, sighing as you pulled your fingers away from yourself to find them wet.

You had just returned your hands atop the covers when you realized Castiel was watching you. And you had to wonder if your subconscious self wished to be caught, because you knew very well that angels did not sleep, simply rest. The afforded opportunity had been artificial from the start.

No words came to mind. There was a tingling in your thighs and you curled your toes, staring at him. His wings moved behind him as he pushed himself up, drawing his body close to yours. That alone dragged a high sound past your lips, your knees bending beneath the covers, touching as you stared at him. He lay on his side, expression quickly wrought with the same desire as yesterday. He stared at your face for a long time, your heart hammering, then his gaze lowered. You wondered where it would go but it stopped at your hand, the same you had touched yourself with.

You watched, breath catching, as he gently took your hand in his and brought it to his face. His tongue passed his lips and touched your middle fingertip. You swallowed, watching pleasure flitter across his features. His tongue slid under your middle finger, lips closing around the digit. Lowering his mouth, he also took your pointer finger and ring finger (your wedding band was on your bedside table) and accepted all three in his mouth at once.

You groaned as he swiped his tongue across your fingers, sucking a little. Then he pulled back and licked between your middle and ring finger, all the way to the base and up again, leaving no space of skin untouched. His mouth trailed hotly over your whole hand, suckling your pinkie, licking between your thumb and pointer, kissing your palm.

With your pointer finger hooked in his mouth, he looked up at you with deliriously needy eyes. You pulled your hand back, digging your nails into your damp palm as he leaned close to you. Your heart beat so fast and loud, you doubted you would hear an interruption even if it came.

You shouldn’t be doing this, you told yourself as he pulled your blankets down, his eyes riveted to your face. Yours didn’t leave his either, even as his hand roamed over your tightly closed legs, knees bent and tucked up between your bodies.

And while you always knew angels were capable of speech, Castiel had never done it. Angels never spoke because their voices were reserved for prayer and the worship of God.

So needless to say, you were shocked to the core when his tongue swiped your bottom lip and with perfect coherency he growled, “Mine.”

So surprised, in fact, your mouth opened with a small gasp. With that tempting offer, he sealed your lips to his, inviting himself to the warm cavern of your mouth. You breathed raggedly into the kiss, a weak mewl in your voice as he licked into your mouth then kissed you heatedly. His hand wedged its way between your knees and you shuddered as he opened your legs, your nightdress lifted to expose your damp panties. You blushed, turning your head aside as he placed kisses on your face, your cheek, your temple, your closed eyelids. All the while his hand rubbed the inside of your thigh, lightly, experimentally.

He had no more words. Honestly, that solitary sound was sacrilege enough, and you doubted there was any force in any realm that could save you now. But you tumbled headfirst into divine sin, into social decadence, Castiel drawing sensations from parts of you that you never even realized were sensitive. With his words expended, he returned to familiar grunts and growls. He was, in the end, something a little wild. Born of heaven and created for specific reasons, he was placed in your house under your particular ownership – your own collar secure around his willing neck – but he was a foreign, wild creature all the same.

And once he had your taste, you knew it would never truly end.

Even if there were momentary interruptions.

He heard a disturbance before you did, pulling away. You blinked in confusion, watching him retreat to the foot of your bed where he curled up and feigned sleep. You then heard footsteps yourself. Quickly did you push down your nightdress and lift up the covers. You had just tucked yourself in when the door opened and your husband entered.

“You’re awake,” he said, removing his dressing gown. Your voice was a little mangled, breath still uneven, so you just nodded. Your husband didn’t pay it mind, placing his dressing gown on a chair before swatting at Castiel. “Get off the bed,” he said.

Castiel bristled, wings opening again. He looked at your husband over his shoulder, eyes flashing bright blue. Though he had demonstrated territorial behaviour in the past, you had never seen such a display from him.

“Castiel,” you said sharply, the literal fire in his gaze dispelled at your voice. He looked at you, though his aggravation was still plain. “Go to your bed, Cas.”

Oh, he was not happy. He did as you asked, though, wings flapping with particular force. He pushed his cushions together and settled down, glaring at both you and your husband from afar. Your husband shook his head, sliding under the covers beside you.

“I don’t know why you like that thing,” he said.

“Angels are special,” you protested weakly, clearing your throat.

“There are better angels than him, wife,” your husband insisted.

“No,” you said softly, “I don’t think so.”

Your husband didn’t bother fighting you on this subject. He wasn’t invested enough to really care, honestly. His hand did go to your nightdress, though, lifting it while you dutifully shimmied out of your panties. It was then his turn to be surprised when he touched you and found you so aroused. You just smiled and told him you had been dreaming. He took this as a compliment, naturally, and kissed you. It didn’t inspire anything more than that, however. Things proceeded as they usually did.

When he had gone, you rose. You looked at Castiel for a moment, panicked, then went to your bathroom. Surely these interruptions were signs from God, directing you from your wayward path and back to righteousness. At the very least, it was the reckoning of society, drawing you from perversion.

It wasn’t your place to ask for more than this life, just like it wasn��t Castiel’s place to be more than an emblem of faith in your home. You were each prizes to another stead, in your own unique ways, and that was how things were meant to be.

Even if it meant no kisses or touches or, god-forbid, an orgasm from your bed partner. Or from anyone.

No, you told yourself. This was the design of the world. You had your place and it was time to accept it.

When you passed Castiel again, you simply pat his head, ruffled his hair, and ignored the frown he threw you. You disguised your own frowns as well. Maybe if you acted like this was okay, then you would feel okay, maybe even enjoy yourself.

Maybe.

Really, it was your husband’s fault in the end. He had a choice between perfect laziness in the bedroom, or half-hearted exchanges. The former you could live with, but the latter was a catalyst to the following situation. Because after taking you to bed one inconspicuous night, he decided to try something else. He took you on your back but he did not leave immediately afterward.

“I need to use the bathroom,” you said, a bit confused. He nodded, laying on his back but making no move to leave. That was displeasing, to be honest. You wanted him gone so you could sleep. Not to mention Castiel would be pissy if he was forced to stay on the floor all night. To say you had grown lax in your reprimands was an understatement; Castiel snuggled atop your bedclothes every single night.

Said angel was currently propped up on his pillows, eyes closed in seeming prayer. He looked at you when you passed. Your husband rarely removed your dress during intercourse these days, so at least you were covered. Nonetheless blushing beneath his intense stare, you hurried past Castiel and into the bathroom. You took care of yourself, also taking the opportunity to tidy your body, freshening up before returning to bed.

Your husband was still there. Confused but quiet, you slid into bed beside him. Then you jumped, surprised, when he shoved his hand between your legs and under your short nightdress.

“Oh,” you said, squirming a little, “what are you—uh, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked. You blushed but it wasn’t a pleasant blush, the kind that made you tingle, just an embarrassed heat in your cheeks. Your cheeks remained the only warm place, the space between your legs a little lubricated from prior lovemaking, but not much as you had cleaned yourself up. You were dry in a moment, then his incessant rubbing just felt painful. You appreciated the effort but it was half-hearted, like maybe he felt obligated and was just trying to get there.

Clamping your thighs together, you made a hurt sound. You fought for a time, convincing yourself it would feel good in a minute, but that excruciating minute never ended.

Your husband made a frustrated noise, retracting his hand. He grabbed your underwear and passed it to you.

“Your body type is too difficult,” he said. “It takes too much work for too long.”

You said nothing, quietly slipping into your panties. Your blush faded but you felt the same embarrassment. Frustration accompanied it, because you had brought him to climax over and over yet one attempt to reciprocate was too much work. You said nothing, though. You simply wished he had not tried anything at all. You were certain he never would again, at least.

He left your bed after that, picking up his robe and leaving the room. The door locked automatically behind him and you sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling again.

So yes, everything was your husband’s fault, because if he had not done and said such stupid things, then your angel wouldn’t have taken it upon himself to rectify the wrongdoings. He had tolerated your husband’s sloppy fucks until this point, but apparently the blatant disregard for your pleasure was the tipping point.

Whatever the case, you heard the familiar rustle of feathers, then Castiel stood at the foot of your bed. Your mouth opened, a gentle greeting prepared, but you froze when you saw the look he wore. Your hairs stood on end, a rock of molten heat dropping in your belly, because his strong stance spoke of determination while his gaze spoke of hunger. Honestly, had he been a foreign angel, you would have sworn he arrived to literally devour you.

But this was a different promise. Your heart beat wildly as you pushed yourself upright, leaning against the pillows and headboard. Your nightdress slipped a little, as it sometimes did, but your concentration was irrevocably set. You ignored it while he did not, his eyes running low, over your face, down your throat, across your amply displayed breasts and covered legs. He pulled down the bedcovers and climbed up himself.

“Cas—” you said, that vague protestation totally useless. You didn’t even have a succeeding sentence planned.

For that reason, you simply gasped when he grabbed your legs, yanking you towards him. He pushed up your dress and tugged off your underwear, drawing it down your thighs, over your knees and down, then tossing it aside. You dug your nails into the bedsheets, breathing hard as you looked up at him.

Shouldn’t I be protesting? a sensible voice asked. It never received its answer, Castiel spreading your legs and ducking between them. Your own sounds surprised you, gasping and high as he opened his mouth over your long-ignored sex. A hard, broad lick parted your slit, a sensation like no other. He lavished attention to your cunt, licking across sensitive folds and teasing untouched nerves. He made his own pleased sounds, deliciously low, dark and rich – absolutely decadent.

Your dress was a mess, bunched at your waist, simultaneously falling low, not adequately covering your chest anymore. You were exposed virtually everywhere and had no cares whatsoever. You lay on your back, breathing hard, fingers twisting in the bedsheets as your angel helped himself to your taste. You weren’t sure how common this practice was, but you surrendered yourself to the undoubted pleasure it brought.

Your whole body trembled when his tongue slipped below your hood, rolling over a sensitive bud. He looked up at you, holding your legs apart, carefully opening his mouth and repeating his action while watching your response. Again you trembled, whimpering with the effort to keep your voice down. He made a content sound, lapping his tongue over that incredibly sensitive spot, feeling it throb and harden slightly beneath his generous mouth. It was almost torturous, sensations new and unbearably strong.

He lifted his head, moving his face across your thigh, lips slick with your wetness as he kissed your skin. He looked up at you again. You swallowed hard, his stare intense, mouth damp, complexion flushed with arousal. He moved upward and your racing heart skipped a beat. You watched him bunch your nightdress, pushing it up your stomach so he could lay kisses there. Continuing upward, he tugged on your dress. Your arms lifted and he tore the fabric away, tossing it across the room before happily settling over your naked body.

You blushed a little, watching his eyes wander you, study you, revel in every intimate detail. You had been naked in front of your husband, but you never felt so bare as you did now. This was open vulnerability and Castiel relished in it, respected it, hands skimming your sides as he lowered his face. He kissed along your collarbone then moved down, mouth vigorously crossing your breasts. You grabbed the back of his head, fingers weaving into his hair.

You had no idea how sensitive your breasts were, and you gasped as he took a nipple between his lips and teased it to stiffness. Your hips bucked only to rock up against his hardness, his hips resting between your legs.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, rasping when his teeth grazed your nipple, “don’t—don’t leave a mark,” you stammered. You’d have one hell of a time explaining a hickey to your husband. Castiel grunted, affirmative, but was still relentless in his explorations. His hand slid down your body, below your thigh to lift it against him, allowing him to grind your bodies together. You tipped your head back, moaning as his mouth went to your other breast and repeated every little motion.

I can’t believe you’re letting this happen, one voice scolded you. When his hand slipped between your bodies, running over your wet heat to slide two fingers inside you, a different voice replied, I can.

Moaning again, you found yourself actively responding to the thrust of his fingers, canting your hips against him. You only slowed when he sped, working a third finger inside you while his other hand cupped your breast, thumb rolling over the nipple. Panting, you just stared up at him as he found every little thing that made your body tick, pinching or rubbing or licking as needed.

He removed his hand from between your legs, sliding it across your thigh and leaving a streak of wetness. His mouth hovered above yours, similar fast breath exchanged as your hips rocked together again. He stared into your face, looking like he was about to kiss you.

He flipped you over instead, surprising you as your landed on your stomach. Lifting your head, breathing hard, you looked back and watched his hands run down your backside. He gripped your hips, raising them off the bed, then he dipped his head and licked your cunt from this vantage. Again you trembled, but it was short-lived, because he was kneeling behind you not moments later.

Oh my god, oh my god, you thought a bit deliriously, watching him roll his sweatpants down his thighs, freeing a cock you never thought to regard under these circumstances. You looked at him over your shoulder, as he took himself in hand and touched the head of his cock to your entrance. Oh god, you thought again, fighting the impulse to close your legs, not even out of nervousness but backward anticipation, your heart still racing and breath laboured.

You remained where you were, bent forward on your knees, breath hitching on a moan as he eased the head of his cock inside you. He was thicker in girth than your husband but resistance was still minimal – both physical and mental. Though your mind was in something of a hazy frenzy – I can’t believe you’re letting your angel fuck you. You couldn’t respond to your own thoughts, especially when he committed and finally plunged inside you. You crumpled forward, gasping, barely supporting your body on your elbows as he pulled back slowly to thrust in again.

“Castiel,” your utterance of his name was wrapped in a moan. You clutched the bedsheets tightly, clumps of material in your fists as Castiel overcame civility. It was a matter of time, you supposed, panting when he started thrusting into you, his grunts feral and wings fluttering. You could only imagine what your husband would say, what anyone would say, if only they could see your angel mounted on you, riding you like a bitch in heat. Illicit didn’t begin to cover this sin and, still, you found you couldn’t care. Your forehead pressed into the mattress as you moaned through every slam of his hips, the wet sounds of your bodies united, the smack of skin on skin.

After this continued for a time, your knees started to hurt. You seemed to recall something about celestial stamina, how long angels typically held out in these circumstances. You groaned, knowing this would be a long night. Thankfully Castiel seemed to notice your growing discomfort in this position. He rolled you over, leaving you on your back. It was familiar but so different, your angel filling you perfectly and fucking you in a way your husband never quite managed.

He was so beautiful above you, every inch of his body hard, set with purpose, his wings spread behind him and eyes fixed on you. His hands were settled over your wrists, pinning them beside your hips. There was utter adoration in his gaze, burning hot and wild. He made a positively primal sound, wrought from being able to look at you properly in this position.

You wondered how you could ever have anyone else inside you again. You knew it would certainly frustrate Castiel even more after tonight. In fact, he seemed to fuck you with that very thought in mind, imprinting more than a superficial memory, but riding you hard to ensure the feel of him inside you would linger, your hunger perpetual.

Honestly, it probably wouldn’t take much.

You started to feel a little fucked-out before he was done. He broke from your body, sliding down to move his face between your legs again. You repeated his name over and over while his mouth soothed your assaulted sex. His eyes flicked up to you when he parted your lips, opening you up to run his tongue perfectly over that sensitive bud. You squirmed needily beneath him, legs locked where he held them open. You had no idea if he intended to make you come yet or not, so you could only ride through the provided sensations with a vague sense of anticipation.

At your slightly more ragged sounds, he pulled away. He removed his pants completely, getting them out of the way as he returned to you. That left him clothed in only your collar, though you couldn’t help but feel liked the owned creature as he took your body again. You were turned slightly onto your side, your leg lifted and secured in his hold, cock steadily pumping in and out. This position evolved until he was laying behind you, then changing once more so you were in your first position again. You were on your hands and knees for a bit but your arms gave out tiredly again.

In an effort to help, he grabbed your arms and pulled you up by them. He locked your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to your back and holding you there, leaving you with little responsibility beyond taking his cock. He pressed you down when his thrusts turned uneven, your cheek pressed into the mattress and hands still trapped behind you as distraction overcame him.

Sense returned enough that his free hand slipped around your body, finding that sensitive nub and rubbing circles. With a series of broken gasps and helplessly noisy responses, your body shuddered as you came for the first time around his cock. It effectively pushed him over the edge, and you moaned loudly into the bedsheets as he throbbed and came inside you. He groaned, long and low, finishing with a few weaker thrusts and freeing your hands. Your arms dropped beside you and you slumped forward, sinking into the mattress.

Holy shit, you thought, incapable of a coherent, audible reply. You just lay there as he moved, then allowed him to grab you and pull your body to his. You rested your head on his chest, your hands sliding onto his shoulders as he held you. His arms went around your waist, his legs bracketing your own, and his wing wrapping over you. Only when his wing started smoothing over you did you consider he might be trying to mark you with his scent, as any angel did their mate.

Oh my god, you thought again, I’ve completely mated with an angel.

That should have been a lot more worrying than it was. You actually felt quite at peace. After resting in his arms for a time, you eventually sent him to retrieve your clothes. The door locked on its own, but anyone with a household key could saunter in, and you didn’t need to be found naked in bed with an equally naked angel. Castiel grudgingly clothed himself and gave you your dress, though he conveniently couldn’t find your underwear.

“You’re so much trouble,” you mumbled, probably the most honest thing you ever said. You smoothed your dress down, distracted only when he turned your face and kissed you. You practically melted, opening your mouth against his. The kiss was warm, affectionate. You separated slowly. Even then he followed, curling his body around yours and holding you tight. “Don’t stay like this all night,” you said sleepily, yawning. You sighed, gazing up at him. “Not appropriate.”

Probably a funny thing considering what just transpired. He smiled a little but nodded, understanding your plight. You sighed again, allowing yourself to settle into his embrace for now.

You knew you had begun something, something very big, but with his heart beating beneath your ear and his arms secure around you, you couldn’t have the heart to worry or care. Your heart settled in one particular place, and its subject currently held you tight.

In the end, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

castiel x reader masterpost

#castiel x reader #casreader #castiel imagine #castiel x y/n

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