˚₊☆ Summary: Dewey has you accompany him to keep watch at Stu’s party, wanting to do his best to keep you safe. He’s on duty, but the back of his Jeep sure is inviting when you’re in it…
˚₊☆ Notes: I intended part 1 to be a one shot, but I had too much fun and too many ideas, so here we are. No disrespect to my girl Gale, I just had to have my fun with Dewey! This chapter is @heresthestorymorningglory approved — she read it when it was a nightmare of a first draft and still supports me endlessly! On that note, sorry for slandering your boy in this chapter. A Stu girlie and a Dewey girlie being besties? It’s more likely than you think-
˚₊☆ Content: nsfw, afab!reader, reader wears a skirt, oral (Dewey giving), semi public (in Dewey’s car while he's on duty), sex mentions
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Buckling in beside Sidney, you relax into the backseat of Dewey’s Jeep, the synthetic scent of pine freshener and leather seats weirdly soothing in their own way.
You’d really rather be watching a movie with him or even getting served his favourite meal cooked by his mom at her kitchen table right now, but you have to admit it is kind of sweet how protective Dewey’s being, having you stay at his house and accompany him when he’s on duty as much as he can.
His mantra recently has been safety in numbers, and when he first called you to tell you to pack a few things because he’d be picking you up to stay at his house (only after express permission from his mom of course), he’d told you, in the softest but most serious tone, ‘I can keep you safe if you’re close by. I need to keep you safe, okay?’
And with him you truly are the most safe you’ve ever felt. You’re kind of excited to see him at work, too, but you are just a little scared.
After all, there’s a town-wide curfew, a killer on the loose, and all the while, a big house party with every senior in the area attending. Not to mention the senior hosting said party is the most obnoxious guy you’d ever met. But Tatum likes him, so you suppose he can’t be so bad.
The whole thing sounds like a perfect recipe for disaster, and you shudder imagining the alternative to your current situation; being home alone, the phone on your nightstand ringing, you innocently reaching to pick up the receiver thinking it’s Dewey calling from the station on his break, only to hear an unsettling voice ask, What’s your favorite scary movie?…
At least here, you’re around other people, most importantly your boyfriend, the Deputy of Woodsboro himself. You can’t deny there is something about that fact that feels kind of thrilling.
‘You okay?’ Sidney asks quietly, trying not to rouse any suspicion from Tatum and Dewey in the front seats, who were happily squabbling over the radio station (Dewey wants 80’s hits, Tatum does not).
‘Yeah,’ you smile, snapping out of your thoughts, ‘I guess I’ll be keeping a lookout with Dewey, so you just have a good time tonight, okay?’
Sidney flashes an unconvincing smile, and with that the country road winds around to Stu Macher’s house, and Dewey parks up close enough to see the entrance, but not so close it’ll spoil the vibe.
Tatum notices Dewey’s thoughtful act but chooses not to acknowledge it. Instead, she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns in her seat to face you.
‘You’re sure you don’t wanna join us?’ she drawls, raising an eyebrow and giving a cursory glance over to her brother before tilting her head back at you.
‘I’m sure. I promise I do actually like your brother,’ you chuckle.
She scrunches her face as though what you’ve said is completely inconceivable, and perhaps even a little bit disgusting.
‘A lot,’ you double down.
‘If you say so,’ she smirks and turns back to pick up her purse. ‘You know you’re way outta your league, Dewey Boy.’
‘Alright,’ he interrupts, ‘you girls have fun.’
Tatum rolls her eyes as a goodbye to her brother and steps out.
‘Not too much fun, or I’ll bust ya,’ Dewey jokes, but Tatum doesn’t hear. ‘Bye Sid.’
Sid offers you another tight-lipped smile, pushes the passenger seat forward to climb out and leaves you alone with your boyfriend.
Once the door is shut, Dewey lets out an awkward breathy laugh, his cheeks burning.
‘So, you like me, huh?’ he tries to sound casual but it comes out mildly distressed.
‘Yeah. I like you. Quite a lot, actually.’
You see his head drop a little and picture his face, flushed cheeks, eyes shutting tight as he processes your words.
‘Are you uh… I mean, do you think you’re outta my league, too?’ he asks, wondering if Tatum’s little psych out was really true, since he’d thought it himself on more than one occasion.
‘I think you’re the sexiest Deputy I’ve ever seen,’ you say, flirting, but he can tell the sentiment is sincere and smiles proudly to himself. ‘Why don’t you climb in the back with me? I’ll show you just how much I like you,’ you tease.
‘I can’t. I’m sorry, baby. I’m on duty.’
‘My big, strong Deputy, protecting us all,’ you coo, slipping your hands over the front seat and onto his jacket, gently kneading your fingers into his shoulders until you feel him loosen up a little before sliding your hands inside to massage over his shirt.
Your fingertips dig deeper now you have a better grip, and Dewey moans. It’s accidental but it’s loud. He even catches himself off guard.
He straightens up, clearing his throat and slipping off his hat to smooth his hair back, his hand shaky as he slides it back into place. Trying to stay professional.
When he’s settled back in his seat, you lean forward, breath hot against his neck, and press your lips there, soft and wet and warm. He hums into it, fleeting memories of what you did with those lips last night running through his mind, sending a quick spark of pleasure deep into his core.
His eyes slip shut and he shudders at the heady mix of sensations, still hung up on the way his shoulders are looser and tingling where you massaged, overwhelmed at how enticing your lips feel, the friction of his pants-
Another little moan.
You push your tongue between your lips, the floral soap he’d used in the shower tonight tart on your tongue as you slowly trail wet kisses around to that sensitive spot just below his ear. Sucking gently at first, you pull back to whisper in his ear.
‘You’re so good with your hands… how could you think I’m out of your league when you can make me cum like that?’
The words drip from your tongue like warm honey and Dewey tilts his head into the sound, hypnotised by your praise.
‘I’ve never come so hard in my life,’ you go on, teasing with a scrape of your teeth against his soft skin.
Dewey clears his throat again and shifts in his seat, trousers growing uncomfortably tight.
You push one of your hands further over the front of his shirt, down his chest, as far as you can reach before his fingers snap around your wrist.
‘Might I remind you that I’m on duty?’ Dewey says slowly, like he’s trying hard to keep his voice steady.
He eyes the house, as if he’s trying to prove to himself that he’s still doing his job properly even with you teasing him to distraction.
‘Might I remind you that you’re still stationed in your car? The police radio is right there. The house we’re watching is right beside us, and where we’re parked…’ you lick slowly up his ear before breathing, ‘no one can see the backseat.’
Dewey releases your hand then, carefully removing his hat and placing it in the passenger seat before turning to face you, completely intending to tell you he’ll do whatever you want when you’re home – that if you liked his fingers inside you this morning he’ll happily practice his technique on you like that every morning, that he’s wanted to fuck you for months and will quite literally rail you into next week – if you can, for now, just let him be on duty.
But the air shifts when your eyes meet, and there’s that heat creeping up his neck again and pooling low in his belly simultaneously, and you look so good, and his pants are so tight, and-
Fuck it.
His lips crash onto yours in an immediately bruising kiss that forces all the air from your lungs at once. It’s hurried and desperate, and you know Dewey knows it’s wrong to be doing this right now, that he should be poised in the front seat, fully alert.
You try to keep your lips connected while Dewey shakes off his jacket and tries his best to climb into the back seat. He succeeds, but definitely not in the way he wanted to; it’s clumsy and awkward and almost results in injuries for both of you, but he doesn’t care how he looks right now.
He ends up on top of you, his tongue sliding much more comfortably against yours while his hands wander over your body, kind of clumsy and very needy.
It’s a hungrier and needier kiss than any you’ve shared before. Since you made him come, since he made you come, everything’s more intense somehow. It’s like he craves you all the more somehow. But whatever, he doesn’t need to explain it away, not now anyway. He just needs you.
With a glance over at the house – where everything appears normal – he begins kissing down your neck, hurried and sloppy as a hand pushes up your shirt.
He shifts down to flick his take a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before his kisses continue downward, mustache tickling at your skin as his lips trace over your stomach.
Your back arches as he slides down further, lips on your thighs now, fingers grazing over your soaked underwear as he spreads your legs as much as the backseat will allow and settles between your legs.
‘How’s the house looking?’ he asks, muffled.
It takes you a moment to process, too lost in the thrill of what he’s doing, what he’s about to do, but you have a decent view of it from here. There’s nothing of note except Gale Weathers sneaking around to try and get her scoop. You stutter out, ‘Y-yeah. Looks okay, I’ll keep watching.’
At that, Dewey resumes his attention on your inner thighs, pulling your underwear aside with his fingers, as he buries himself under your skirt and begins to carefully lap at the spot he found earlier, the one that made you shudder with pleasure, as he slips a finger inside.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands as he tastes you, slow at first, but not for long. He gets a taste and goes at it like a starved man, spurred on by the quiet moans he wishes he could have heard this morning when you were fighting to keep yourself quiet with his fingers knuckle deep inside you.
Between laps of his tongue, and without ever halting the steady finger fucking into you, he praises you endlessly, his words muffled against your core.
‘Mmh, you taste so good,’ he groans, sliding his tongue in a rhythm you seem to respond to, ‘so wet for me-’
Your thighs begin to shake, and his free hand moves to your belly, trying to hold you still, but splayed across the backseat with him crouched between your thighs is cramped at best and he can’t quite manage to get a good hold on you, so he lets you tremble.
He can sense how close you are, if what he learnt this morning is anything to go by. He had every twitch and tense of your body memorised, every small gasp and sigh, every clench of your pussy wrapped around his finger, the way your thighs tightened around his hand as he fucked you through your release…
‘Gonna come for me, aren’t you?’ he mumbles, pleased with himself.
You attempt a Yes, but it comes out kind of strangled and doesn’t really sound like a word at all.
‘God, you taste so good,’ he says again, ‘my new favorite meal-’
You moan his name, loud and unrestrained.
‘Fuck- I love you-’
Shit. Did he just?
Your body jolts as your release takes hold, and you rock your hips against his tongue as he speeds up his finger, until everything turns white.
When you’re gasping for breath, floating down from the high while aftershocks flutter between your thighs, Dewey kisses your core, so softly, so tenderly before gently pulling your underwear back into place.
He traces the edges of your underwear with a gentle fingertip while his head rests on your thigh for a moment, catching his own breath as much as giving you space to catch your own.
‘I love you,’ he says, sure this time, confident.
He waits for your answer, eyes closed, fists clenched tight. Everything is so still now, so quiet, and all he can hear is his heart thumping in his chest.
‘Dewey, I-’ you begin, and then-
Cshhchrr-
The crackle of the police radio cuts through the silence of the car, and Dewey’s head shoots up, eyes flickering to the house first, and then the police radio in the front. He scrambles into the front seat, answering the call as professionally as he can, and you sit up to watch him, hair completely messed up, mustache glistening with your slick.
The Sheriff wants Dewey to check out a car that’s been reported abandoned just down the road from here – it might be Mr. Prescotts.
He responds and confirms, then clicks the radio back into place and turns to you with big, apologetic brown eyes. ‘I gotta go check this out. I’m sorry.’
‘Hey, don’t apologise. You’re on duty,’ you smirk, and Dewey averts his gaze, embarrassed. ‘It’s my fault for tempting you.’
‘It’s my fault,’ he says earnestly, with a shy half-grin. ‘I can’t keep my hands off you. But if that’s what it takes to keep you safe…’
You lick your thumb and reach forward to wipe it over his mustache, cleaning it off and neatening it up. You slip the digit between Dewey’s lips and he closes his eyes dreamily, moaning around your thumb as he sucks it clean of your juices, as though it’s the most delicious taste he’s ever known.
You pop it out from between his swollen lips and he drops back, smoothing back his hair as best he can (it still looks untidy, but it’ll do) and he dons his hat once again.
‘I’d better get going,’ he sighs, slipping his jacket back on, ‘it’s not far – I’ll walk so you can stay here, safe in the car. Use the radio if you need to; Sheriff Burke knows you’re with me. Don’t move, don’t trust anybody, and keep an eye on Tatum- and Sid.’
He presses his lips to yours quickly, with surprising force, before swinging open the drivers side door and tearing himself away.
Straightening his uniform up, he leans back in for one final word before he clicks on his torch and sets off down the road.
‘I promise I’ll finish what I started by the end of the night,’ he teases, fully expecting you to blush.
‘So you’ll fuck me?’ you ask, deadpan.
Dewey’s the one who blushes. He doesn’t know where to look, nevermind what to say. He thinks briefly of the single condom he’s had hidden away in his bedside drawer for the last five years and whether it’ll still be usable, then switches back to feeling just about ready to pass out.
With a steadying breath, he nods. ‘Yeah. At home, in your bed, where you’re safe. How it should be the first time.’
‘I’m always safe with you,’ you counter, swooning a little at his sincerity.
‘This’ll be a night you’ll never forget,’ Dewey grins, and slams the door closed.
It’s only as you’re watching him slowly disappear into the dark that you realise you never got a chance to tell him you love him, too.
But there’ll be time for that, you think. When he’s making love to me later, I’ll tell him it again and again.
˚₊☆ In this follow up to Seven Minutes in Heaven (where Dewey's blowjob is almost interrupted by the Woodsboro killer calling the house), he returns a few hours later to finish what you started - and oh boy is it worth the wait.
˚₊☆ Notes: I just know Dewey is so good with his hands. This is set right before Dewey heads down for breakfast while Sidney’s staying over. You don't need to have read part 1 for it to make sense, but if you're here for the same reasons I wrote this, I'd recommend it ;). @heresthestorymorningglory has relentlessly supported me obsessing over writing for this mustachioed cutie so she is entirely to thank for this! Part 3?
˚₊☆ Content: nsfw, afab!reader, fingering, first time (for Dewey - reader is open to interpretation), uniform kink?, Dewey being adorable, very light soft dom Dewey for like one hot minute
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The mattress indents behind you, tipping you gently out of sleep as you feel Dewey, nuzzling into you, warm against your back.
You hum, leaning into his embrace and tilting your head back into his shoulder as consciousness takes over, feeling the holster at his hip digging into your ass, and his hand snaking over your waist and up under your pyjama shirt.
‘Dewey,’ you yawn, slipping a hand behind yourself to feel that his uniform was still on, just as you’d requested.
‘That’s Deputy Riley,’ he smirks, lips ghosting against your ear.
Smiling to yourself, you roll your hips back against his, hearing the sensitive little whimper he breathes out in response.
‘Now, now,’ he goes on, trying to keep his voice even, but it comes out a little shaky. Meanwhile, his hands grip your hips hard and hold you in place, ‘remember it’s your turn. I don’t want to have to use force.’
‘Yes, Deputy,’ you all but moan. The way he’s holding you, what he’s saying… it’s almost too much to bear.
Heat pools low in your belly, and the hand that had rested there seconds ago releases your hip and returns, fingers creeping lower in small, teasing circles.
‘Is this what you want?’ Dewey asks, care lacing his words as he breaks out of the Deputy persona he brought to bed. ‘Do you feel okay with this?’
‘I’ve never felt safer,’ you reply, ‘and, yes, I want this, Deputy Riley.’
Dewey takes a slow, steadying breath, body tensing for a moment before his fingertips cautiously glide beneath the elastic of your pyjama shorts, but before he gets much further, your fingers snap around his wrist, pausing their descent.
‘Dewey, are you sure you’re ready for this?’ you whisper.
He lets out the breath he was holding. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all night,’ he says evenly.
‘While you were on duty?’ you tease. ‘Very sexy of you.’
Dewey scrunches his face a little at that – do you really think of him as sexy? – before explaining, ‘I was working, I was professional, but since I left you here in my bed all alone and unsatisfied? After you tore my entire soul from my body like that?’ He lets out a little growl under his breath. ‘All I wanted was to come back here and do the same to you.’
‘Then don’t make me wait, Deputy,’ you sigh, releasing his wrist.
His hand plunges between your thighs, fingers tracing gently over your entrance.
‘You’re- oh, god, you’re so wet?’ he whines, as if he can’t believe it.
‘All for you,’ you breathe, biting your lip as Dewey’s middle finger slides inside. ‘Ohh-’
‘Just tell me if I’m not doing it right?’ He lowers his voice, ‘You feel so fucking good.’
You slide a hand over his, feeling every steady pump of his finger. His wrist rocks slowly, finger at just the right angle, massaging that perfect spot over and over until you can’t hold it in anymore and sob out a quiet moan.
‘Faster?’ he asks, voice filled with awe, and you wish you could see his face from here, wish you could witness the wonder in his big brown eyes as you clench around his finger and moan for him.
You nod, barely able to form a coherent thought, let alone vocalise one. But you manage a strangled, ‘Mmh- faster- right there-’
And Dewey obeys, sliding his other hand under you, holding you tight against him until he’s fucking you so hard on his finger you’re about to see stars.
‘I- I can’t-’ you try, chest heaving as your nails carve into his wrist. ‘D-Dewey, I’m-’
He pulls his finger out then, leaving you empty, clenching around nothing. You groan in protest, but he doesn’t leave you wanting for long.
He drags his slick-coated finger carefully through your folds, lighting up every nerve ending on the way until he feels you jolt against him.
That wasn’t so hard to find, he thinks fleetingly, I feel sorry for the wives of those guys at the station.
And he rubs your bundle so lightly, so slowly it’s almost painful.
‘Does it feel good?’ he asks, breath hot at your ear.
You nod again, whining out a vague response, and Dewey adds pressure, circles his fingertip faster, with such a measured precision it’d be scary if you didn’t know he was far more capable than anyone cares to give him credit for.
Your release approaches startlingly fast again. Dewey is as responsive as he is precise, thrusting his finger back in, the heel of his palm nestled against your clit this time to provide the perfect friction, and you turn your face into the pillow you’re clutching with your other hand, trying to keep from waking the entire house with your cries.
The only other sound is the lewd slosh and slap of his fingers between your legs, and your final thought before pleasure takes complete hold of your convulsing body is that you can’t believe he’s never done this before.
You come to a few seconds later, Dewey’s finger still rocking in and out of your tender pussy, slow and easy, bringing you mercifully down from the high.
Feeling you relax back into the bed, he slides it out, bringing his fingers straight to his lips and sucking them clean with an obscene hum of approval.
‘Just a little taste. I’ll save the rest for later,’ he coos.
‘There’s more?’ you sigh, woozy in your haze of bliss.
‘I’m sorry… I’ve gotta get ready for my normal shift now. But I’ll hopefully get a lunch break… and, uh, you’re the lunch.’
Dewey is so pleased with himself for coming up with that, he grins at you, stupidly cute as you roll onto your back, getting your first proper look at him. He looks just as flushed and dishevelled as you feel.
He kisses you deeply, holding nothing back as his tongue slips between your lips and glides against yours, humming gently before he pulls back.
‘Mom’s got my breakfast waiting. I said I’d come up to check on you first. I’d better get going.’
You can’t help the grin that spreads over your face, now, too. ‘Alright, go get your breakfast, Deputy, you need to keep your strength up with how hard you’ve been working.’
Dewey isn’t sure whether you mean at work, or in bed with you, but either way he guesses you’re right.
Tearing himself away, you watch him tidy himself up, straightening his uniform and combing back his hair before he leans over the bed to kiss you on the forehead.
‘I’ll tell mom you’re still asleep and to leave some breakfast for you. I think I have some spare donuts if you’d like one? Just get some rest, try and relax. You’re safe here.’
‘I know,’ you say under your breath as he slips through the door.
You could really get used to sleeping over with him.
˚₊☆ Dewey has you sleep over with him after the Woodsboro killings start up. It's the first time you've shared a bed — and the first time for a few other things, too.
˚₊☆ Notes: Endless thank yous to my sister @heresthestorymorningglory for inspiring me with her writing and friendship every day, and for still reading my fics even when our fandoms don't quite align ♡. Should I write more Dewey?
˚₊☆ Content: nsfw, afab!reader, established relationship, making out, blowjob, first time (for Dewey - reader is open to interpretation), premature ejaculation (Dewey lasts for less than a minute), mentions of masturbation, getting interrupted, uniform kink?, white undershirt kink too I guess!
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Leaning against the counter with a hot mug of tea, Dewey leans into you, lowering his voice so his mom, cleaning up the kitchen just feet away, can’t hear him.
‘Sorry it’s gotten kinda late. You go on ahead and get comfortable, I’m gonna grab some ice for Sidney and I’ll be right in.’
You smile up at him, watching his eyes crinkle as your gaze flusters him.
A little awkward, cheeks heating up, he runs a hand through his hair and shoots off to the freezer while you say goodnight to Mrs. Riley and head for the stairs.
‘Night, girls,’ you call through to Sidney and Tatum as you reach the top and head on to Dewey’s bedroom door, feeling a little dizzy as you open it. It feels wrong somehow to enter it for the first time without him there.
Dewey’s room is cute. Clicking the lamp on and taking a proper look around, you imagine it hasn’t changed very much since his teenage years going by the very 80’s decor and the movie posters on the walls here and there. You’re relieved to see he has a double bed though, and smile at the slightly faded Ghostbusters bedsheets.
You change into your pyjamas while he’s still downstairs, probably overexplaining to his mom that you’re only here for him to protect while all this is going on, that he will be respectful and make sure you get some sleep while he takes watch. You picture Mrs. Riley’s face, equal parts horrified and amused, and stifle a laugh.
Climbing into his bed, you prop yourself up against a couple of pillows and breathe in the scent of him that lingers on the sheets; the light pleasant musk of his cologne mixed with his moms signature laundry detergent. Its like being wrapped in him.
You listen out and hear him heading up the stairs, telling Tatum and Sidney to get some sleep and that he’ll be right next door. Your heart skips at how protective he can be.
He knocks on his own bedroom door before he enters. Unnecessary, but gentlemanly all the same.
‘Come in,’ you say softly, beaming at him as he freezes in the doorway, looking at you as if he’s never seen a sight so captivating. ‘You okay?’
He drops his head, snapping himself out of it. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just…’
‘What? Never seen someone else in your bed before?’
‘Yeah,’ he sighs, relieved that you understand, then quickly adds, ‘oh! Well- no, I mean-’
‘It’s okay. In that case, I’m honoured.’
He blinks his gaze away, switching between smiling and chewing on his bottom lip.
‘Nice sheets,’ you joke and he laughs through a half smile, eyes meeting yours again, softening.
There’s a moment then. Something changes in the air, and you suck in a deep breath. Dewey swallows hard.
‘Deputy Riley?’ you tease, toying with the edge of your pyjama shirt, ‘Are you coming to bed?’
His eyes are fixed on your fingers, exposing the slightest patch of skin at your collar, but he nods and forces himself to turn away, taking a steadying breath. He unbuttons his uniform, slipping off his shirt, shoes and trousers, leaving just his crisp white undershirt and dark underwear.
Somehow he’s even hotter without the uniform.
When he faces back to you, he holds in a breath as your eyes drag over him. No one’s ever seen him so exposed, and he isn’t sure what to do or how to stand.
‘Come here,’ you say, voice low as you lean forward.
Dewey climbs up beside you on the bed, placing his gun carefully on the bedside table, and crosses his legs at the ankle, socks still on.
‘Don’t worry about the gun, okay? It’s just for protection. You’re not scared are you?’ he asks, genuine concern in his voice.
‘Not with you beside me,’ you say simply.
As his heart melts, his eyes dip to your lips. You’re drawn together like magnets and the kiss comes naturally. It’s not your first; you’ve memorised one another by now, and it’s a comfort and a thrill, but it’s as far as you’ve gone.
He tastes like strawberry ice cream, his tongue slow and gentle as it glides against yours. Heat pools in your core, and you’re overcome with a desire to straddle him, to ride him until his eyes roll back and his breath runs out, but you resist, taking it slow for now.
‘Thanks for letting me be the first to stay in your bed,’ you breathe as you break apart.
He smiles, complete disbelief written over his face. You’re really here, really kissing him in his bed, where he’s spent countless nights fantasizing about exactly this. ‘It’s my pleasure.’
‘I hope it will be,’ you smirk, and Dewey’s eyebrows raise a little.
‘I’m supposed to be on watch tonight,’ he whispers, ‘I shouldn’t-’
‘But you’re not on duty, right, Deputy?’ you coo.
He squeezes his eyes shut. You know what it does to him when you use that title, especially when you’re being intimate.
‘No. I’m not on duty, not technically-’
‘What’s the harm in a little fun, then? You’re still here, you’re still awake, you can still watch, right?’
‘W-what did you have in mind?’ he asks, and you push him back to sit up against his pillows, dragging your hands down his chest.
‘Do you trust me?’ you ask.
‘Yes.’ His reply is breathy, but it’s instant and filled with confidence.
‘If you want me to stop, you just say so, and I’ll stop. Okay?’
He nods eagerly, impatient for whatever you’re about to do.
‘But we gotta be quiet,’ he adds, hurried, ‘Tatum’s right next-’
‘I know, I know, don’t worry,’ you soothe. ‘I can be quiet. Can you?’
‘Yeah,’ he huffed, like it was obvious. He’d had to be quiet all this time living at home, every time his thoughts of you got a little steamy and he gave in to his urges, almost biting through his lip in the shower or burying his face in his pillow. But he managed it, and he could handle this, too. Couldn’t he?
You straddle him then, keeping a distance between your hips and his for now, palms pushing up to rest on his shoulders, and start by kissing him again, languid and soft until you feel him relax, and then press your lips to his jaw and trail down his neck.
You feel him tremble beneath you as his head drops back, his hands gliding over your back, your hips, your ass; wherever he can reach.
At the neckline of his undershirt, you graze the edge of the fabric with your teeth, tugging a little and noticing his breath hitch.
You slide your hands back down from his shoulders, feeling every inch of his lightly muscular body as you go, and when you reach the bottom of the shirt you push it up, exposing his toned stomach.
Your lips are there in an instant, sucking delicately at the soft skin, and again, down, further, further…
Dewey can’t help but slip his fingers into your hair, an attempt to ground himself with you while his mind races with anticipation. His other hand grips at the sheets beside him, hoping it’ll help him regain composure.
You look up at him from between his thighs, two fingers hooking over the hem of his boxer shorts.
‘Yes?’ you ask.
‘Yes,’ he practically mewls.
You mouth at his hard cock over the fabric and Dewey sucks in a sharp breath. Keeping quiet was actually a lot harder when he wasn’t here alone with nothing but his thoughts. He may have underestimated what you could do to him in person…
‘Is this ok? You want me to stop?’
‘Yes- I mean- no, don’t stop, don’t- ohh-’
You pull his boxers down to free his length, throbbing and leaking for more.
‘Oh, Deputy,’ you moan deliberately, knowing what it’ll do to him, satisfied when a new bead of precum pumps from the tip in response.
He brings up the hand grabbing at the sheets to bite down on his fist, trying to muffle a groan as slowly, carefully, you lick a thick stripe up from his base to his tip, tasting him on your tongue, then take him fully into your mouth.
He whimpers as you begin to bob your head, feeling the weight and heat of his arousal, sucking gently at first.
He keeps his fist in his mouth, unable to keep from crying out. It’s all so overwhelming, every sensation happening at once; his fingers in your hair as he feels each movement, the warm, comforting wetness of your mouth and the light roughness of your tongue causing a friction he’s never imagined would feel so electric, the vibration of you moaning around him, the hand at his stomach, holding his undershirt up while the other wraps around the base of his cock to take on what your mouth can’t fit-
It takes seconds, from the moment you wrap your lips around him and sink down, to the culmination of him spilling thick and hot into your mouth.
It’s at that moment, exactly as he’s tipping over the edge, that there’s a knock at the door, followed by an urgent call of his name.
But it’s too late, he can’t stop his release even if he wanted to. It’s happening. He’s shooting ropes of cum down your throat, heart pounding in his chest and jaw going slack as his body convulses in rapid bursts beneath you on the bed.
He manages to breathe through it, not crying out, but you sputter; there’s too much to contain and it trickles out past your lips as you pull off him.
A second knock, a third, another desperate call of his name…
Dewey, in a haze, jumps from the bed, adjusting his shirt and tucking his still twitching, softening cock into his boxers as he goes, grabs his gun and smoothes his hair, darting from the room to see what’s going on.
You catch a vague glimpse of his mom, but she follows him back out onto the landing as you hear a commotion at the top of the stairs. Peeking out of his door, you see Sidney, Tatum and Mrs. Riley retreat as Dewey picks up the phone.
‘Hello?’
There’s no one there, though, and he steps back running his fingers through his hair while he tries to clear his head, before dropping the receiver back down.
He marches straight back to his room, grabs his uniform and dresses, hurriedly fastening up his shirt but matching up the buttons wrong so it hangs around him a little awkwardly.
When he’s done he stands before you, apologetic. ‘I’m gonna have to speak to Sidney and check in with the Sheriff.’
‘That’s okay. You’re the deputy of this town, I understand,’ you smile and wink, watching him blush and look away.
‘You’re the best,’ he shakes his head. ‘But it’s not okay, I should be in bed with you right now, making you scream.’
‘There’s time for that later. Are you okay? It wasn’t too much, was it?’
‘It was perfect,’ he grins before exhaling a sigh of complete bliss.
He really means it. Except for being pulled out of the high of his orgasm by this godforsaken killer calling the house, which wasn’t your fault, it really was everything he had imagined it would be and more.
‘There’s more where that came from, Deputy.’ You reach up to re-button his shirt for him while he hangs on your every word. ‘Keep your uniform on when you come back to bed, will you? It makes me feel extra safe… and wet.’
He huffs out a nervous laugh and kisses you hard, tasting himself on your lips, then hooks a finger beneath your chin to hold your face up to his.
‘Yeah? Well, when I come back to bed, it’s your turn for the rest of the night.’
And with that promise, he sweeps out of the door and you swoon back into bed, burying your face in his pillow and inhaling deeply, eventually settling into a light sleep.
Sooo it turned into a Dewey first time smut fic… if anyone wants to read more of him I’ll write and post some of the soft fluffy smut I had in mind for him! I’ve got a few ideas and I’m open to yours!
On that note, if anyone is interested I wrote a fic on my Ryan blog that was themed around Dewey too, here!
˚₊✦ nsfw, afab!reader, finger fucking, hints of dirty talk from Cas, horny Cas, Cas watching reader sleep, somnophilia (dubcon; reader is into it)
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Cas watching over you while you slept was a strange concept at first. The angel didn’t need to sleep, but he wanted to be around you more the longer you were together.
‘So you’d just be laying here all night, doing nothing while I’m fast asleep?’ you asked the first time he offered to stay with you.
‘I’d watch over you,’ he said, ‘only if you want me to, of course.’
‘Wouldn’t you be bored?’ you went on.
‘I’m never bored when I’m with you,’ he said simply.
You agreed you didn’t mind him staying, as long as he really wanted to do it. You trusted him enough by now, and he was very cosy to cuddle into.
A couple of days later, you asked him what he did while you slept.
‘I keep watch, make sure you’re safe,’ he replied, brow furrowed and head tilted as though it were obvious.
‘Doesn’t it feel like a lifetime?’ you asked, immediately feeling stupid, expecting him to answer that he’s been around for millenia, so a few hours aren’t exactly a lifetime to him.
‘Not when I’m looking at you,’ he said sincerely, melting your heart a little bit more.
And so it became a natural habit.
Since then, snuggling into Cas and falling asleep against his chest while watching Netflix, you had to admit you’d never had a better night’s sleep than when he stayed. And you’d never felt safer.
But as the sexual side of your relationship amped up, Cas began having a little more difficulty with watching over you.
His desires were only growing the longer he spent on Earth, and the longer he spent around you. To sit or lay beside you all night, watching you, hearing you talk in your sleep and occasionally mutter his name… your chest rising and falling in that hypnotic rhythm, your soft skin, your parted lips… it was so tempting.
Tonight, his hand grazed down your bare arm, careful, soft.
You gasped from within your slumber.
Cas knew it was filthy of him, but he wanted nothing more than to touch you right now, to hear you moan his name. It was kind of thrilling, having you to himself this way.
His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt for a moment before slipping his palm, warm and soothing, up over your stomach, then your ribs, his fingers toying delicately with a nipple.
‘Cas-’ you breathed, and he closed his eyes, composting himself before continuing. ‘You want me to play with you?’ he muttered darkly, and eyes still shut tight, you nodded.
Biting his lip at the way you were responding, his fingertips trailed down to your shorts, sliding so easily beneath the waistband and between your thighs.
He found you hot and dripping. His pants felt suddenly tighter.
‘You’re so wet…’ he praised in a whisper, ‘what are you dreaming of?’
‘Cas-’ you groaned this time, and he wasted no time plunging a finger in, fucking you gently on it for now.
‘That’s it,’ he praised, ‘you’re doing so well for me. Just keep dreaming…’
You moaned, loud enough to wake yourself, but you didn’t – not yet.
‘Focus on my fingers,’ he instructed, fucking you faster now, feeling you shift on the mattress as your peak neared.
Cas pulled his finger out, coated with your slick, and rubbed soft circles over your clit, increasing the pressure the more you squirmed, pressing his hips closer to you as hissing at the friction.
He watched in awe as your jaw dropped. He quickly pushed his finger back in, palm pressed perfectly at your bundle of nerves that were alight with pleasure now, and if your moans didn’t wake you the lewd wet sound of his hand slapping furiously against your wet pussy would.
Your back arched and you moaned again, louder, his name falling from your lips in a strangled cry as you came undone, waking up part way through your release as you panting for breath.
Cas’s fingers slowed, massaging more than fucking now, easing you down from your high with that sincere consideration he always seemed to have with you.
‘Fuck,’ you gasped, blinking as you adjusted to the dull light and the twitching aftershocks at your core. ‘Cas?’
‘I’m sorry- I… I couldn’t resist you-’
‘You did that?’
He dropped his head in shame. ‘Yes. I- I should have waited for you to wake up, I-’
‘No. That was so fucking hot.’ You said, still breathless.
‘What- really? I shouldn’t have asked you first?’ He looked on the verge of tears.
‘Yeah, well. I guess technically, but I’m into it. Do it again.’
Cas’s eyes widened. ‘Right now?’
‘I mean another time, when I’m asleep,’ you chuckled. ‘Not every night though, I will need some rest.’
Cas nodded, processing all this.
You let out a long breath, recovering now. ‘I thought I was just having a really good dream,’ you smiled at him.
‘What happened in your dream?.’
‘Oh, you were fucking me. Real good.’
Cas blushed crimson.
‘Wanna make that dream come true?’ you smirked, reaching for the tent in his pants, and Cas nodded eagerly.
˚₊✦ Heard there was a shortage of these so here’s my contribution 😇
˚₊✦ nsfw, masturbation, mentions of gn reader (note reader wears lipstick), it’s pure filth
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Your lips still tingle on his, the scent of your perfume lingers on his shirt, traces of your lipstick still stain his cheek, his collar…
He loosened his tie. He shouldn’t feel like this. It’s not angelic, in fact it’s surely a sin, but he’s been on earth so long now that he’s human enough, just enough to be tempted, to feel the pull of lust — or, whatever this is.
Is that what it’s like, being human? Neverending urges and temptations that you have to use every scrap of energy to ignore or ultimately give into? And if you’re expected to control them, why do they feel so damn good?
Cas moaned before he could stop himself, the bulge in his pants rubbing against the fabric as he shifted in his seat. He wondered if you’d ever given into this feeling and what you’d look like, head thrown back, eyes shut right in bliss, lips parted as you moan his name with your fingers between your thighs-
Stop.
Cas shook his head, remembering something Dean once said about taking a cold shower. It hadn’t made sense then, but it was starting to now. He didn’t feel like experiencing an icy blast of water right now, though. He felt like… like…
The fingers resting on his belt slowly unbuckled it, slipping down to unzip his trousers next. He wasn’t giving in. He was just experimenting with what he might do, what it might feel like, if he did give in.
He discovered that it felt like relief for a moment, to not be restricted by the confines of his pants. Then the unbearable neediness returned.
One touch wouldn’t hurt, right?
Carefully he slid his hand down into his underwear, hissing as the cool of his palm rubbed against the heat of his length.
Oh, it felt good. He imagined how your palm might feel, soft and warm, and couldn’t resist wrapping his fingers around, squeezing gently.
How would you touch him? Slow and soft, taking your time to memorise every twitch, every reaction; or hard and fast, forcing moans from him as you pumped your fist, desperate to get him off?
You’d kissed like that, both languid and rough, and he couldn’t decide which was better.
Before he could stop himself, he stroked a long deliberate, slow drag up the underside of his cock, heart pounding and breath jagged.
He grunted as the pearl of hot fluid formed at his tip. He quickly gathered it with his thumb and finally gave in, furiously pumping his fist while he imagined your lips back on his throat and your fingers wrapped firm around his cock, moving fast just like this.
His free fingertips came up to rest at his neck, specifically the spot your lipstick had marked only half an hour ago.
He gasped.
A rope of thick creamy cum wet the front of his boxers as his jaw dropped open, loud gasps filling the otherwise empty bunker as he tried and failed not to cry out, fingers at his neck moving to grip the edge of the table instead.
Catching his breath, he tucked his shirt back in, fastened up his trousers and tried not to wince at the way his cock twitched, softening in his damp boxers. Perhaps a shower wouldn’t be a bad idea.
As he stood, the door to the bunker clicked open, Sam and Dean disbursing into the main area, Sam heading straight for his room and Dean emptying his snacks out onto the table.
Cas stilled, hoping Dean wouldn’t somehow know what he’d been doing in here, or who he was thinking of doing, shrinking back as Deans eyes raked over him.
‘Huh.’ Dean smirked.
Cas waited, hands flexing in and out of fists.
‘Had a little fun while we were out?’
‘I-’ Cas tried, hesitating.
Dean brought a finger up, mirroring the smudge on Cas’s cheek with a stupid grin on his face. ‘Wasn’t there when we left, buddy. Your tie wasn’t hanging loose either.’
Cas simply nodded, avoiding eye contact while Dean busied himself with a bottle of beer.
Does anyone want a filthy Cas solo fic? A Cas x reader somno fic?? A Dean and/or Sam comforting reader in their own ways fic??? Because these are what you’re getting whether I like it or not
˚₊✦ Summary: Cas is your new, better God, and only you can worship him the way he needs.
˚₊✦ Author’s notes: we love writing a fictional sicko in this house, and the way I want Godstiel to destroy me is unholy, so. Thank you my sister and favorite writer @heresthestorymorningglory who is so deep in the HR/hockey trenches but still helped me get this ready for posting and watches Cas episodes with me when we're sleepy ♡ title from here
˚₊✦ Warnings/content: nsfw, use of divine powers (??) for general control and also for enhancement of readers pleasure, kinda soft dom?, blow job/mouth fucking, fingering, p in v, cnc - reader wants everything but it's heavily implied Godstiel wouldn't take no for an answer, reader is referred to as 'good girl' once, lots of biblical terms, if Godstiel being a sicko isn't your jam I'd avoid this one!
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You were minding your own business, quietly flipping through a magazine on your sofa when he appeared. ‘Hey, angel,’ you smiled to yourself.
‘Not an angel. Not anymore,’ came the smug reply from behind you.
You turned to see him dressed the same as ever; messy dark hair and blue tie loose at the throat as if you’d already gotten your hands on him, and his signature trench coat hanging open… but those usually sparkling blue eyes were dark. Too dark.
Arrogance wasn’t a word you’d associate with Castiel. He wasn’t one to be fucked with, thats for sure, and as a result you’d never felt safer than when you were with him. But what had you head over heels quicker than Dean could snaffle a freshly baked cherry pie had been his softness, his kindness. Hell, even his innocence in a lot of ways. Cas was the dictionary definition of endearing (when he wasn’t whipping out his angel blade to fight evil). But this? This wasn’t it.
Your speechlessness didn’t escape his notice.
‘I’m God,’ he announced, smirking, his voice unnervingly even as he went on. ‘Now, get on your knees.’
‘What?’ you spat, trying not to laugh at the absurdity. ‘Just. Hang on.’ You stood, holding up a finger to put Cas on hold while you grabbed your phone, opening your last messages to Dean and typing as quick as you could:
Hey, so what’s up with Cas?
If this was some silly game he’d learned from one of Dean’s adult movies and he was trying to be sexy… well it was technically working, but at least you could rule out anything sinister.
Three little dots danced at the bottom of the screen almost instantly.
He’s there? Stay calm, we’re on our way.
Fuck. It’s sinister.
You looked up from your phone to find Cas frowning, eyes glittering menacingly. He was in there somewhere… he wasn’t your Cas, but holy shit, he looked so good.
‘You dare to disobey your new God?’
A thrill ran through you at his words, his voice low and darkly simmering. You shook your head in response to keep from sounding needy, and Cas grinned, understanding.
Then your phone felt suddenly heavy in your palm, pulling away from your grip. Your fingers opened and you watched it drop onto the sofa, but by your own volition, you stepped toward him.
Cautious? Yes. Scared? Undoubtedly. Turned on? You couldn’t deny it.
‘Then I’m sure you will be thankful for my forgiveness in your little indiscretion. Now, get on your knees, and profess your love unto me.’
Cas’s head tilted slightly, lips pulling up at one corner as you obeyed.
‘That’s it,’ he soothed, the fingers of one hand pushing abruptly into your hair, forcing you to look up at him as with his other hand he unbuckled his belt, unfastened his trousers and slid into his boxers. ‘You are faithful to me and only me, your Lord.’
You nodded, even though you knew it wasn’t a question.
‘Say it.’
‘I’m faithful… only to you…’ you trailed off, not sure what to call him. You loved Castiel, not whoever he was taken over by right now, but the way he was taking control of you, the way he was stroking himself right in front of your wanting lips… it sure was distracting.
‘I’m your new God,’ he said coolly as if reading your mind, ‘a better one. Now, let me hear it.’
‘You’re my new, better God,’ you repeated, watching a wet patch appear on the fabric of his underwear as you spoke, ‘and I’m faithful only to you.’
The hand tangled in your hair loosened and dragged down your cheek, thumb pressing to your mouth and parting your lips.
‘Is that so?’ he asked, voice showing a few cracks now he had you where he wanted you.
You nodded eagerly.
‘Then- mmh- show it,’ he breathed, danger lacing his tone despite the hand in his underwear stroking faster, ‘or I shall- ughh- destroy you.’
You knew if you didn’t obey him, the consequences could be deadly, but you also knew what you were doing. You were in complete control of yourself… for now, anyway, and you really couldn’t even begin to explain away the fact that you wanted this so badly, even with the nagging thought at the back of your mind that it felt kind of wrong to give in to him.
But your desire won, and without question you leant forward, pulling down his boxers and pressing your lips to the curve of his hard cock as both his hands wound into your hair, holding you firmly in place.
Cas hissed as you lapped at his length, but it didn’t sound like his usual breathy whines, it was sharper, harsher somehow. Threatening.
‘Yes,’ he moaned, ‘show the depth of your devotion to your new God,’ he heaved, irritably adding, ‘before your little friends arrive and see you with a mouthful of your saviour’s cock.’
He cried out then as you took him into your mouth, feeling the heat of his erection against your tongue, heavy and hungry for your touch.
Cas was usually quiet, like feeling good was a sin he was trying to push down deep inside somewhere, so you had to encourage him to let it out. He’d never moaned like a pornstar the moment you wrapped your lips around him, never took control of your movements, never commanded you to do… anything. And you wouldn’t change him for the world, but this was too hot not to enjoy while you had the chance.
You sucked and lapped as best you could as he fucked into your mouth hard, your eyes watering as you tried not to choke on him, you own moans muffled.
Cas shuddered after only a few more thrusts, filling your throat with his hot release, breathing harshly through ragged growls until his fingers loosened in your hair and he fell back to the wall behind him, panting.
You dropped back, dazed, and wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, looking up to see him completely wrecked, but somehow still calculating. Still, you pressed your thighs together, biting your bottom lip at the state of him. You loved making a mess of Cas at the best of times, this was insanely hot.
He caught his breath quickly, pulled up and fastened his pants and reaching up to loosen his tie. He clicked his fingers to dissolve his coat and jacket to god-knows-where, then rolled up his sleeves with shrewd precision. You thought he could have done the whole routine with that one click, but he was showing himself off to you, and you were revelling in it.
‘Wasn’t that a little unholy?’ you asked, daring. ‘I’m not sure there was anything in the bible about God using his position to get his dick wet.’
‘Oh, it’s only unholy if I deem it so,’ he answered casually, straightening up. He was so sure of himself and yet there was something in his expression that told you he knew it was wrong to use his newfound power this way, but he liked the trip it sent him on. ‘Besides, how could it be anything but divine when you get me off so good?’
‘You can’t help yourself, can you? Using your new status to get what you want?’ you pushed, enjoying the game, enjoying hearing Cas talk to dirty.
Cas held out a steady hand, slowly turning his palm to the ceiling, swiftly beckoning his fingers. You were upright in an instant.
He stepped forward and shoved you against the counter. Even as an angel, you knew you’d never be able to overpower him – not that you’d ever needed to – but now that he was God and you were cornered with nowhere to run? You felt your knees turn weak, and somewhere in the back of your mind was a hope that Dean didn’t get here too fast.
Cas looked you dead in the eye, his face less than an inch from yours. ‘What I want? No. I’m taking what I need. It’s the worship you owe me, your Lord. And I haven’t finished yet.’
You felt heat creep over your cheeks, and suddenly wanted more than anything to kiss him, to taste Cas like this, see if his tongue felt different the way his cock had. But you didn’t get the chance to try.
With another easy click of his fingers your shirt was gone, one careful hand at your lower back as the other trailed delicately over your exposed flesh, feeling every shiver against his palm as he lifted you onto the counter.
‘And am I not merciful?’ His breath was hot on your face.
You wanted to counter that Cas was never a selfish lover and that this new, better God was disappointing by comparison, coming so quickly and teasing you endlessly with no follow through, but the thought vanished as quickly as it appeared when the fingers ghosting over your ribs moved up to trace a nipple.
You didn’t know how he did it, but electric shocks shot to your core. It wasn’t like when he used his grace with you, wasn’t warm and pleasantly satisfying, it was like being slapped with pleasure in a hundred different ways at once. Like an orgasm, but… different.
He lifted the hand at your chest to his lips, sucking in his middle finger, and if you didn’t fall weak at the sight, you were falling weak at the way you were feeling it at your core. He trailed his finger back out, rimming his plump lips before pushing back and watching you squirm. When he released his finger with a pop, you felt oddly empty.
‘Already too breathless to speak?’ he said, smug. ‘I’ll ask you again-’
This time, his fingers dipped lower, burying between your thighs. You followed them down and realised you were completely bare to him, now, your pants having vanished along with your shirt at some point. You spread your legs for him, and he smirked at your willingness, easily pushing a finger inside.
‘Is. This. Not. Merciful?’ Each syllable was punctuated with a rough thrust of his finger.
‘Y-yes,’ you tried, ‘you are a m-mh- merciful G-God-’
‘You’re so wet… all for your God?’
‘Mmhm-’ you tried, nodding.
‘Good girl.’
He finally kissed you then, tongue slipping into your mouth like he’d kissed you a thousand times before. And he had… but rather than soft like Cas, it was forceful, rather than needy it was commanding.
You wrapped your ankles around his waist, pulling him close to you as he fucked his finger into you with a stready rhythm. It really was nothing short of divine, and not at all how you imagined God would fuck. Not that you’d ever imagined it.
‘C-Cas-’ you tried when he pulled away from the kiss.
‘No. Not Cas. God.’
‘God!’ you yelped as he fucked his finger into you faster, palm nestled perfectly at your bundle of nerves.
‘Yes, that’s it, worship your God.’
‘P-please- God, please-’ you moaned.
‘If I’m not mistaken you would call for God the same way when I was Castiel, an angel of the Lord, hm? Perhaps this is what you always wanted?’
‘Yes!’ you moaned, half agreeing with him and half on the verge of orgasm.
Whatever powers he had now were spreading through every part of your body, taking you over completely with the most divine pleasure you’d ever known.
You were too blissed out to notice he was hard again, trousers around his ankles as he whipped his fingers from between your thighs and pushed your legs further apart, sliding into you with a single, hard thrust as you fell back onto the surface.
Cas- no, God didn’t allow you time to adjust. His thrusts were relentless, pounding into you with a force you couldn’t have put into words even if your mind wasn’t completely clouded with unbearable pleasure.
You vaguely heard him grunting above you, felt the cool of the counter contrasting with the heat of your body, the way his hand pinned your wrists in place– and then you clenched around him, unable to hold onto any sense of control, your vision turning dark as he ravaged you through your orgasms; one after the other.
Every time you thought it was closing to an end, the rapture began again, blooming in your core and outwards, until he was done with you.
He stayed inside, softening cock twitching against your contracting walls as he recovered. It took him longer to catch his breath this time, bracing himself with a hand either side of you, holding himself over you on the counter.
You laughed as you came to, a relieved, satisfied giggle that you couldn’t keep in. He smiled back at you, almost like Cas would. You realised the worship he craved was your moans, the way you begged, the way you cried his name, and he was satisfied with that.
He dropped his head forward, then, voice dark. ‘Are your sinful desires sated?’
It was then that you heard the hammering on your front door. Dean. Fuck.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Cas soothed, danger on his tongue again. ‘I can get rid of him.’
‘No!’ you protested.
Cas tilted his head curiously. ‘You want Dean to find you sprawled naked on your kitchen counter, wrapped around God’s softening cock, begging for more?’
You were still gathering yourself, still struggling to form sentences. ‘No, just-’
‘Be merciful?’
You nodded, feeling his seed trickle out onto your thigh as he pulled out a little too roughly.
He stroked your cheek before flicking his hand in the direction of the door. The hammering stopped. Slowly, that same hand returned to your core, sliding through your folds and pushing a finger inside to fuck his seed back into you.
‘Don’t worry, he is safe for now. For you, my little disciple.’
You moaned, falling back against the counter and gave in to his touch, gentle this time, although you suspected not for long.
even lucifer knew dean would believe anything he said the moment he put on cas’ puppy eyes and said “dean” in that gravelly voice... that’s dean’s weak spot.
