⋆. 𐙚˚࿔fawn𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Vought Tower’s medical wing was a sterile kind of hell.

Soldier Boy — Ben — had been defrosted for less than two week, and already the Vought scientists were losing control. The man was a walking nuclear reactor of rage, testosterone, and something far more primal. His body had woken up demanding what it had been denied for decades: a rut.

At first, Vought tried the usual fixes. High-end escorts. Suppressants. Even a few willing supes. Nothing worked. Ben destroyed rooms, put two handlers in the ICU, and groaned that he needed to knot something warm and living. Everyone was panicking. A feral Soldier Boy was bad for ratings.

That was when the newest member of The Seven was brought in.

You.

A bunny demi-human — soft ears that constantly twitched with nerves, a fluffy cotton tail that betrayed every emotion, and a young, innocent face that Vought’s marketing department had fallen in love with. You were the fresh, approachable hero meant to soften the team's image. Cute. Approachable. Non-threatening.

You had no idea what you were walking into.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

For three days, Ben had been locked in his reinforced penthouse suite. No one was allowed near him. The official story was “recovery and adjustment.” The truth was much uglier.

You couldn’t stop worrying.

You’d only met him once, at least properly— briefly, during your induction. He’d looked at you with those sharp green eyes and smirked, calling you “little bunny” in that rough voice. Something about the way he said it had made your cheeks burn and your tail twitch. Since then, you hadn’t seen him much. And the longer he stayed locked away, the more anxious you became.

On the fourth night, you made a decision.

You waited until the halls were quiet, used your enhanced agility to slip past security, and snuck into the elevator that led to his floor. Your heart hammered the entire way up. Your fluffy tail was tucked tight against your body.

The doors opened into a destroyed room. Furniture smashed. Glass everywhere. The scent of a dog’s rut — thick, musky, overwhelming — hit you like a wall.

You froze in the doorway.

A low, dangerous growl came from the bedroom.

“Who the fuck is there?”

You swallowed hard. “It’s…it’s me. The new guy. I—I was worried about you. No one’s allowed in, but— you’ve been alone for days.”

Silence.

Then heavy footsteps.

Ben appeared in the doorway, shirtless, sweat-slicked, eyes glowing with feral hunger. His dog demi-human traits seemed even more pronounced in rut, and his cock was straining against his sweatpants, thick and leaking.

You took a step back, ears flattening. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave—”

“Stay.”

The word was a command. You froze, tail trembling, prey instincts flared up.

Ben stalked closer, breathing hard. “You smell…sweet. Like a pretty little prey.” His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you against his chest. “Little bunny came to check on the big bad dog, huh?”

You whimpered, pressing your hands against his chest. “Ben— Mr. Soldier Boy, I just wanted to make sure you were okay—”

He laughed, low and rough. “Okay? I’m in rut, bunny. I’ve been trying to fuck half of Vought and nothing works. I need to knot someone.”

Your eyes widened in fear. “I...I can get help. I can call someone—”

“No.” His grip tightened. “You’re here now. You’re gonna help me.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

You tried to run.

You really did.

But Ben was a supe in full rut, and you were just a bunny. He caught you before you reached the elevator, slamming you against the wall with careful but undeniable strength. One big hand pinned your wrists above your head. The other yanked your clothes.

“Ben, please— I’m not...I’ve never—” You stammered, voice shaking.

“Shh, shh.” He growled, but there was no gentleness in it. “You came into my den, little bunny. You’re gonna take what I give you.”

He ripped your pants down in one motion. You yelped as cool air hit your bare skin. Ben’s hand slid between your legs, fingers finding you already shamefully wet, almost on instinct.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “Look at you. Already dripping for me. Good little prey.”

You sobbed, ears flat against your head, tail thrashing. “Please— Ben, stop it.”

Ben didn’t listen. He shoved two thick fingers inside you, stretching you open roughly. You cried out, legs buckling. He held you up with his body, fucking you with his fingers while his mouth latched onto your neck, sucking dark marks.

“That’s it.” He muttered against your skin. “Open up for me. Gonna knot this tight little cunt, fill you up.”

You were shaking, tears streaming down your face, but your body betrayed you — slick coating his hand, hips twitching despite your fear. Ben noticed and laughed darkly.

“See? Your body knows what it wants. Even if you’re crying like a scared little bunny.”

He pulled his fingers out, spun you around, and bent you over the back of the couch. You whimpered as he kicked your legs apart. The thick head of his cock pressed against your entrance.

“Ben— wait, please—”

He thrust in.

You screamed.

The stretch was brutal. He was huge, and rut made him even thicker. Ben groaned loudly as he sank deep, bottoming out in one savage stroke. Your legs shook violently.

“Fuck— so tight.” He growled. “Perfect little bunny hole.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started fucking you hard — deep, punishing thrusts that made your ears flop with every snap of his hips. You sobbed openly, claws digging into the couch, tail thrashing wildly.

“Too big, Ben, hurts...please—”

“Shut up and take it.” Ben snarled, one hand fisting your fluffy tail, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “You wanted to play hero and check on me? This is what happens when you walk into a dog’s rut.”

He railed you mercilessly, the wet sounds of your slick and his cock echoing through the room. Every thrust made your belly bulge slightly. You cried harder, overwhelmed and terrified, but your body kept producing more slick, making it easier for him to fuck you deeper.

Ben leaned over you, teeth grazing your ear. “Good bunny. Taking my cock so well. Gonna fill you up. Gonna knot you real good.”

You whimpered and sobbed.

He laughed, dark and feral. “Cry all you want. Makes you clench so nice around me.”

He reached around and rubbed your clit roughly, forcing you to come with a broken sob. The orgasm only made you tighter. Ben groaned and fucked you through it, then kept going, chasing his own release.

When he finally came, he slammed in deep and locked his knot inside you. The stretch was excruciating. You screamed, fresh tears falling as his knot swelled, locking you together. Hot pulses of cum flooded you, filling you so full your belly felt swollen.

Ben collapsed over your back, panting, still grinding his knot deeper. “That’s it… good boy. Take every drop.”

You sobbed quietly, trembling under him, completely overwhelmed. Ben nuzzled your neck almost possessively.

“Mine now, bunny. Vought can fuck off. You’re staying right here.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

You stayed knotted for nearly an hour.

Ben eventually carried you — still impaled on his cock — to his massive bed. He laid you down carefully, still locked inside you, and wrapped his strong arms around your smaller body.

You were shaking, tears kept falling silently.

Ben kissed the back of your neck, surprisingly gentle now that the worst of the rut had been sate, you couldn't help but nuzzle into the tender touch. “You did good, kid. Real good. Took my knot like you were made for it.”

You whimpered, voice tiny. “It kinda hurt…”

“I know.” He murmured, stroking your ear. “But you’ll get used to it. My pretty little bunny.”

You didn’t answer. You just lay there, full and claimed, wondering how you were going to explain this to the rest of The Seven.

You had been with Sam Winchester for three months, and it was the safest, warmest thing you had ever known.

Sam was everything you needed. Gentle. Patient. He never pushed when you got shy and quiet. He never made you feel broken for the way your body worked or the way your mind sometimes spiraled. He held you through nightmares, kissed you when you were too anxious and whispered “I’ve got you” like it was a promise carved in stone. You were kind of awkward with him — blushing when he called you beautiful, hiding your face when things got intense — but he loved it. He loved you.

You thought it would last forever.

Then Lucifer started appearing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

The first time was during a quiet night in the bunker.

You and Sam were in his room, tangled together under the sheets. Sam was moving slow and deep inside you, one hand cradling your face, murmuring soft praises against your lips. “You feel so good, baby. So perfect for me.”

You whimpered shyly, legs wrapped around his waist, trying not to hide your face like you always did when pleasure got too overwhelming.

Then you felt it — a cold brush of grace against your soul.

Your eyes flew open. Over Sam’s shoulder, Lucifer stood at the foot of the bed, watching with a lazy, cruel smile. Only you could see him. He winked.

You froze. Sam noticed immediately, slowing his thrusts. “Hey…you okay?”

You nodded frantically, voice barely a whisper. “Y-yeah. Just…felt weird for a second.”

Sam kissed you softly and kept going, gentle as always. But Lucifer stayed. He watched the entire time, eyes dark with amusement, occasionally mouthing filthy things you couldn’t repeat. When you came, shaking and teary in Sam’s arms, Lucifer blew you a mocking kiss and vanished.

You didn’t sleep that night.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

He kept coming back.

During soft mornings when Sam was still asleep, Lucifer would appear beside the bed and whisper in your ear while Sam held you. During showers, he’d lean against the wall and comment on how pretty you looked all wet. And worst of all — during sex.

He never touched you. Not yet. He just watched. Smiling. Mocking. Making you feel exposed and dirty even as Sam made love to you with nothing but care.

You became more skittish. More awkward. You started flinching during intimate moments, apologizing constantly for no reason. Sam noticed.

“Baby, talk to me.” He said one night, holding you close after you’d tensed up again. “You’ve been different lately. Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes. You wanted to tell him. You needed to. But the words wouldn’t come. What if Sam thought you were crazy? What if he thought you wanted Lucifer there?

So you stayed silent. And Lucifer kept appearing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

Sam found out anyway.

It happened during one of the worst nights.

You and Sam were in the middle of making love — slow, sweet, the way you both liked it. Sam was deep inside you, kissing your neck, whispering how much he loved you. You were trying so hard to stay present.

Then Lucifer appeared right beside the bed.

He leaned down, voice low enough that only you could hear. “Look at him, baby. So gentle. So boring. You deserve more than that.”

You whimpered, trying to focus on Sam. But Lucifer kept talking — filthy, mocking things that made your stomach twist with shame and unwanted heat.

Sam noticed you trembling. He stopped moving. “Sweetheart?”

That was when Lucifer spoke loud enough for Sam to hear, when he appeared right in front of him.

“Hello, Sammy.”

Sam’s head snapped up. His face went white. “Get the fuck out.”

Lucifer laughed. “Oh, I’m not here for you. I’m here for him. Your sweet little boyfriend has been such good company lately.”

Sam pulled out of you gently and covered you with a blanket, shielding you with his body. You curled into a ball, shaking, tears falling silently. You were so ashamed.

Sam’s voice was deadly calm. “Leave. Now.”

Lucifer smiled. “Why don't we make a deal, Sam? One night. Just one. Let me have him, and I’ll leave you both alone. No more visits. No more whispers. One night, and he’s all yours again.”

Sam’s hands trembled where they held you. You whimpered, hiding your face against his chest. “Sam…”

But Sam looked at you — at how broken you already were — and made the hardest choice of his life.

“One night.” He said, voice cracking. “And you never touch him again. You never speak to him again. Swear it.”

Lucifer’s grin was victorious. “Deal.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

The night came three days later.

Sam had prepared a room in the bunker — soft lights, clean sheets, everything to make it as safe as possible. He held you for hours beforehand, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your trembling hands.

“You don’t have to do this.” He whispered. “We can find another way.”

You shook your head, voice small and scared. “He won’t stop. I just…I want it to be over. I want you.”

Sam held you tighter. “I’ll be right here the whole time. I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

When Lucifer appeared, the air grew cold. He looked at you with dark hunger.

“Hello, sweet boys.”

Sam stayed beside you on the bed, one hand holding yours. Lucifer was gentle at first — too gentle. He undressed you slowly, cooing praises while Sam watched with clenched jaw.

“Look at him, Sammy.” Lucifer murmured, spreading your legs. “So shy. So pretty. You’ve been keeping him all to yourself.”

You whimpered, hiding your face in Sam’s shoulder as Lucifer pushed inside you. Sam held you through it, whispering “I’ve got you” while Lucifer fucked you with slow, claiming strokes.

You cried the whole time — overwhelmed and guilty. Lucifer mocked you softly. “Such a good boy for me. Taking the Devil’s cock while your boyfriend watches. Does it feel good, little one?”

Sam’s grip on your hand never wavered. He kissed your tears, stroked your hair, grounded you when the shame became too much.

When Lucifer finally came, buried deep inside you, he kissed your forehead, almost tenderly, terrifyingly so.

“One night.” He reminded Sam. “A deal’s a deal.”

Then he was gone.

Sam pulled you into his arms immediately, holding you as you sobbed against his chest. He cleaned you up gently, dressed you in his hoodie, and wrapped you in blankets.

“I’ve got you.” He kept whispering. “You’re safe. You’re mine. He’s gone.”

You were the youngest Winchester, the one Sam and Dean had fought hardest to shield from the full weight of their world. At barely eighteen, you still carried that wide-eyed softness they had lost long ago. Late nights in the bunker library were spent with your nose buried in lore books, hoodie strings perpetually chewed between your teeth when you concentrated. You asked innocent questions about spells and sigils, blushed at Dean’s crude jokes, and trusted too easily. That innocence had drawn Lucifer like a moth to flame.

The devil’s obsession started subtly. He first appeared to you alone during one of Sam and Dean’s hunts, materializing in the corner of your room with a lazy smile. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little Winchester.” He’d murmured, voice like warm honey laced with danger. Over the following weeks, he returned again and again—only when your brothers were away or distracted. He’d perch on the edge of your desk, teasing in that playful, probing way. “Such a pure boy. Do you even know what the world wants to do with something as untouched as you?”

Your mind rarely caught the full implication. You’d tilt your head, cheeks warming, and reply earnestly. “I’m not that innocent, Lucifer. I hunt too, you know.” Your earnestness only fueled him. He loved watching the slow realization dawn across your face minutes later, the way your brows furrowed and your fingers twisted in your hoodie.

Lucifer cataloged every detail: the shy way you ducked your head when praised, the soft whimpers you made when startled, the lingering stares you would give him when you thought he wasn't looking. You were his favorite secret, a bright spot of purity in his ancient chaos.

Sam and Dean sensed something was off. They reinforced wards, warned you repeatedly. But Lucifer was the devil—he slipped through. And you, sweet and trusting, never fully reported the visits. “He’s not always mean.” You’d mumble if pressed. “He listens.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

On a quiet Thursday, with Sam and Dean gone for a hunt, Lucifer decided it was time to push deeper. The bunker was silent except for the low hum of the lights. You were curled up on your bed, knees drawn to your chest, flipping through an old journal when the air shifted. He appeared beside you, graceful and commanding.

“Hello, little one.” His voice wrapped around you like smoke. Before you could protest, he settled against the headboard and patted his lap. “Come here. You’ve been alone too long. Let me keep you company.”

You hesitated, biting your lower lip. “Luci…Sam and Dean said—”

“They’re not here.” He interrupted smoothly, golden eyes gleaming. “And you’ve missed me. I can tell.” Something in his tone—gentle yet insistent—pulled you over. You crawled into his lap, straddling one thigh, back to his chest. His arms encircled your waist, holding you securely. You relaxed gradually, the warmth of him soothing after days of quiet worry. His hand stroked slow circles over your stomach through the hoodie, possessive and calming.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence. Then you felt it. A growing hardness pressing insistently against your ass. It was warm, solid, and it twitched when you shifted. Your innocent mind spun slowly. You squirmed, trying to adjust, which only made the pressure more pronounced. A soft, confused whine escaped your throat.

“Luci...what is that?” You asked, voice small and genuinely puzzled. You glanced back at him over your shoulder, eyes wide. “It’s poking me. Did you put something in your pocket?”

Lucifer’s low chuckle vibrated through his chest and into your back. He rocked his hips up deliberately, grinding the hard length against you. “Oh, my sweet, clueless boy. No pocket. That’s my cock getting hard for you.” His breath ghosted your ear. “You feel so good sitting on me like this. So warm and innocent. It makes me want you.”

You blinked, processing. Your cheeks burned bright red. “Hard? Like…because of me?” You squirmed again, whiny and restless, the movement rubbing you against him unintentionally. “It feels really big. And warm. Why’s it doing that, Luci? Does it hurt?”

He groaned softly, one hand sliding under your hoodie to rest against your bare skin. “It aches, baby. In the best way. Because I really like you.” His voice dropped, teasing yet tender. “Every time you chew on that string or look at me with those big eyes, it gets worse.”

You whimpered, shifting again, caught between confusion and a strange, fluttering heat low in your belly. Your body was responding, cunt growing slick. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make it hurt. You keep pushing it against me. Do you… want to put it inside me? Is that why you’re grinding like that?”

The words were so naively offered, so lacking in any real awareness of what you were suggesting, that Lucifer’s grip tightened, his control fraying. “Yes.” He breathed, voice rough with want. “I want to put it inside you, little one. Deep inside that tight cunt. Fill you up until there’s no room for anything else.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

He moved with deliberate slowness, drawing the moment out. Lucifer laid you back on the bed, stripping your clothes with careful hands, murmuring praises the entire time. “Look at you…so pretty.” When you tried to cover yourself, he gently pinned your wrists above your head. “None of that. Let me see what’s mine.”

His own clothes vanished in a flicker. His cock stood heavy and thick, flushed and leaking. You stared, eyes wide. Lucifer slicked his fingers with your growing wetness and began opening you— one finger first, slow and patient, curling gently. You gasped, back arching, a high whine spilling out.

“Feels weird…but kind of good.” You admitted breathlessly, mind still lagging. “Luci, are you sure this is okay?”

“More than okay, sweet boy.” He added a second finger, scissoring patiently while his thumb stroked your clit in soft circles. Your hips twitched, whines growing needier. He took his time, building you up until you were slick and trembling.

When he finally lined up, pressing the thick head against your entrance, reality hit you harder. “Luci— it’s too big. It won’t fit inside me.” You whined, legs instinctively trying to close. Tears pricked your eyes from nerves. “Please, it looks like it’ll break me.”

“Shh, baby. It will fit. I’ll make it fit.” Lucifer pushed forward inch by inch, stretching you open with a burning fullness. You sobbed softly, hands clutching his shoulders, body trembling. “Too much…hurts, it won’t fit, Luci! I’m too small—”

“You’re perfect.” He groaned, voice thick with obsession. Halfway in, he paused, leaning down to kiss your tears. “Taking my cock so well already. And when I cum, sweet boy…I’m going to put a nephilim in you. Fill this womb with my seed until it takes. You’ll swell with my child. Our little miracle.”

Your eyes widened in innocent panic. “A baby? No, Luci, I’m too young for a baby— Sam and Dean would kill me… I can’t have a nephilim. Please, I’m not ready!”

Lucifer rocked deeper, bottoming out with a satisfied moan. The stretch was overwhelming, his cock buried to the hilt inside your clenching heat. “Too young? That’s what makes it sweeter. My innocent little boy. Imagine it—your belly rounding out, heavy with my offspring. You were made for this. Made for me.” He began to thrust, slow and deep, grinding against that spot inside you that made your vision spark. One hand stroked your clit in time with his movements.

You whined and moaned beneath him, torn between protest and overwhelming pleasure. “But— a baby…I’m too young, Luci. It’ll hurt— ah!— and everyone will know…” Your words dissolved into sobs of pleasure as he angled perfectly, fucking you with measured, devastating strokes.

“I’ll keep you safe. Hidden away if I must. Just you, me, and the life I put inside you.” His hand pressed lightly on your lower belly. “Feel that? Right here. Gonna flood you until it sticks. A nephilim with your eyes and my power. You’ll look so beautiful carrying my child, little Winchester.”

Despite your whimpers of “too young” and “can’t,” your body betrayed you. Your cunt fluttered around him, slick sounds filling the room as he drove deeper. Lucifer’s pace gradually quickened, control slipping as obsession took over. He pinned you down, murmuring dark promises between kisses.

Another orgasm crashed over you, cunt spasming hard around his cock. Lucifer followed with a guttural groan, burying himself as deep as possible and flooding you with hot, endless seed until your belly felt full and warm.

He stayed inside you long after, grinding lazily to push his cum deeper. “Good boy. So full already. It’ll take. My perfect vessel for our child.”

You lay there dazed, panting, one hand resting uncertainly over your stomach. Tears slipped down your cheeks—overwhelmed, innocent mind spinning with new fears and strange warmth. Lucifer kissed your forehead, obsession burning brighter than ever. “Don’t worry, sweet one. I’ll take care of everything.”

The hunt had been brutal. A nest of vamps that fought dirtier than expected, leaving you bruised, exhausted, and emotionally scraped raw. Your ribs ached where one had slammed you into a concrete wall. You’d been hunting with the Winchesters for months now, but nights like this still left you feeling small, shaky, and too aware of every inch of yourself that didn’t always feel right.

Sam had gone straight to his room to stitch a gash on his arm, then felt asleep pretty quickly. Dean, somehow still wired, found you in your room an hour later. You were sitting on the edge of the bed in an oversized hoodie and loose sweats, staring at the floor, jaw clenched around the hoodie string you’d been chewing on for the last ten minutes.

Dean leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, that familiar cocky tilt to his head. “You look like hell, kid.”

You shrugged, not trusting your voice. He stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “Sam’s dead asleep. Figured you might need someone to talk to. Or..

whatever.”

The offer sounded kind. Dean was good at that—sounding like he cared. He dropped onto the bed beside you, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours. “Rough one tonight. I know how it gets. The body’s all fucked up from the fight.”

You nodded, cheeks already warming under his attention. Dean’s voice dropped into that low, soothing register he used when he wanted something. “C’mere. Let me help you relax. Been a while since I had to deal with post-hunt shit like this myself, but I remember. Poor baby…all tense and worked up.”

Before you could overthink it, he tugged you into his lap, strong arms wrapping around your waist. You fit there too easily—smaller frame against his broader, solid one. Your breath hitched as his hands settled on your hips, thumbs stroking slow circles over the fabric.

“Dean…you don’t have to—”

“Shh. I want to.” He nuzzled against your neck, voice warm and almost gentle. “You’ve been such a trooper out there. Took that hit like a champ. But look at you now…all shaky and needy. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Gonna make it better.”

His hands slid under your hoodie, palms warm against your skin as he pushed the fabric up. You squirmed, awkward, but he just cooed. “There we go. Let’s get these off. Can’t help you properly with all this in the way.” He stripped you both down to nothing but skin, efficient and confident. Your t-dick was already half-hard from the proximity and the lingering adrenaline, flushed and sensitive. Dean’s was thicker from longer T use.

He pulled you back into his lap facing him, legs straddling his thighs. The position left you exposed, vulnerable. You tried to hide your face against his shoulder, but Dean gently tilted your chin up with two fingers. “None of that. Let me see you. Poor thing…all sensitive after the hunt, huh?”

Two big fingers wrapped around both your t-dicks, pressing them together. The contact was electric—hot skin, slick arousal already gathering from your folds. You gasped, hips jerking involuntarily.

“Easy.” Dean murmured, that patronizing sympathy thick in his voice. “I know it’s a lot, sweetheart. Feels overwhelming, doesn’t it? All that pent-up energy from the fight turning into this. Just breathe for me.” He started slow, guiding your hips to rock so your t-dicks slid together in long, deliberate glides. The heads caught, rubbing slickly, sending sparks up your spine.

You whimpered, hands fisting in his shoulders. “Dean…fuck—I haven't...haven't really touched myself since—”

“Aww, poor thing, just let me. Feel how good that is?” He kept one arm banded around your back, holding you close while the other stayed between you, occasionally adjusting the angle so your smaller t-dick dragged perfectly along the thick underside of his. Slick sounds filled the quiet room—wet, obscene, mixing with your soft, embarrassed noises. “Look at you, already leaking all over me. So cute. Poor baby’s been needing this after getting tossed around.”

His words were tender on the surface, but the smirk you caught in his voice told the truth. He was enjoying how quickly you fell apart. You ground down harder, chasing the friction, your folds sliding messily against his as your cocks frot in a steadily building rhythm.

Dean hummed approvingly, lips brushing your ear. “There we go. Grind just like that. Just use me, sweetheart. Rub that pretty little dick on mine.”

The fake sympathy made everything hotter and more humiliating. You were overwhelmed, cheeks burning as you hid whines against his neck. Every time you tried to muffle yourself, Dean would tilt your head back. “Don’t hide those sounds. Let me hear how much you need it. Been thinking about this, haven’t you? Staring at me, poor confused boy...just needed Dean to take care of the ache.”

You moaned brokenly, hips stuttering. The pressure built fast—your t-dick hypersensitive, sliding repeatedly over the head of his thicker one, catching on the slick hood, grinding down so your folds pressed flush. Dean controlled the pace, slowing when you got too close, drawing it out.

“Aw, don’t cum yet, baby. Not until I say. I know it’s hard… your body’s all worked up. Feels like you’re gonna lose it any second, right?” He cooed it like comfort, but his grip on your hip tightened, keeping you right on the edge. “Such a good boy for holding it. So pretty when you’re desperate.”

Tears of frustration and pleasure pricked your eyes. “Please, Dean…need it—”

“I know, I know.” He finally sped up, thrusting his hips up to meet your grinding, frotting harder, wetter. Your t-dicks slid frantically together. “Go on then. Cum for me, poor thing. Let it all out. I’ve got you.”

You shattered with a choked cry. Your t-dick pulsed against his, waves of pleasure crashing through your sore, overstimulated body. Dean groaned low, following right after.

For a moment he held you there, breathing heavy, murmuring soft nonsense against your hair. “That’s my boy…did so good. Felt better, hm, baby?”

You nodded, dizzy and clingy, nuzzling into his chest. The hunt’s weight felt lighter, your body limp and sated against his. But Dean’s arms loosened almost immediately. He shifted you off his lap onto the bed, reaching for his discarded shirt to wipe himself clean.

You made a small, needy sound, reaching for him again—still floaty, wanting the warmth and closeness to linger. “Dean…can you stay? Just a little?”

He chuckled, standing up and pulling his jeans back on. The gentle smile faded into his usual smirk. “Can’t, kid. Got some stuff to do. You’ll be fine now. Post-hunt comedown handled.” He ruffled your hair roughly, almost condescending. “Clean up the mess we made, yeah? Good boy.”

You sat there, the shyness crashed back in full force, mixed with the raw ache of being left like this. Dean paused at the door, glancing back with one last wink.