I just think demon dean should've gone a bit more feral, okay? Don't worry about any potential angel blades hiding off screen in his other hand trust 😁
This is probably the most vile thing I've written thus far... That said-
THIS IS A DEAD DOVE WITH UPSETTING / TRIGGERING THEMES. DO NOT READ IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE IT.
CW: Knife play, dub-con treading into non-con, reader is very sick, violence, biting, demon dean, unprotected PiV (WRAP IT UP), throat fucking, breeding kink (if you squint), rough sex, abuse, mentions of past drinking, near death experience, blood play
A/N: I understand I put reader under A LOT of stress and that realistically, she should be in a hospital. Keep in mind that this is fictional, and I do NOT endorse any type of violence / abuse of this kind.
>> READ ON AO3
>> PART 2
WC: 4,084
Her body aches and it's hard to breathe. The sheets are soaked in sweat and her skin is pallid. She has been like this for a week and her symptoms haven't let up. She felt useless to Sam in helping Dean turn human again.
Dean…
The thought of the man she so desperately loves does little to soothe her sickly state. Her brows knit tightly together as she coughs, chest tightening as she does so. It takes her a moment to catch her breath; whatever breath she can catch. The gasps she manages to wheeze out are pitiful, pathetic, even. This is the sickest she has ever been and the closest to death she has felt. No creature, demon, angel or human has made her feel so close to the final breath.
As she opens her eyes, she notices that her room is illuminated by red emergency lights. Odd. Sam had everything under control, didn't he? Her eyes flutter shut, unable to fight the fatigue.
–
“Come on, Sammy! Let's play!” Dean grins, eyes flitting to black for a brief moment as he remembers that someone else lives here, too. Her.
His heavy footsteps echo throughout the halls of the bunker as he makes his way to her room. Before Dean enters, he presses his ear to the door and hears soft whimpers. His sick grin from earlier cracks across his face. The elder Winchester always found her whimpers pathetically cute. They made his cock stiff and mind shoot into the gutter, but he never told her that. Not at least when he was human.
Dean had rejected her softly a couple times before. It wasn't because he wasn't interested, but because he didn't think he deserved someone so caring. A hunter's life was meant to be full of misery and not knowing what was next. Oh, if he could, he would accept her love and be the most selfish bastard alive. She was beautiful, strong, smart, and a firecracker. She had matched his snark and seemed to understand him better than his past lovers. Yeah, she was 10 years younger than him, but that didn't change a damn thing about how he felt.
As a human, he hid his feelings and shunned them to the back of his mind. He saved those disgusting thoughts for late at night in his room where he jerked himself off like it was his last day alive. Now? He was a demon. He didn't give a shit. He would have her, human and demon feelings alike.
–
The door to her room opens with a slight creak, but she is unable to lift her head to see who entered. She can barely open her eyes as the fatigue is too much to bear.
Dean's eyes scan her body on the bed; she's sick, dressed only in panties and a loose tank top. It's hot in there and smells a little funny. “Hey sweetheart.” He takes a step closer, licking his lips at her form laying there in a heap.
Hearing his voice sends a shiver down her spine, a welcome chill to fight her feverish state. There was no way he was back up here, Sam had to still administer a few more doses of human blood. She must be hallucinating. “Dean..” her voice is barely above a whisper.
The bed dips as Dean sits on the edge, a wicked grin that she is unable to see spread across his handsome face. He reaches over, putting a hand on her damp forehead. “You're burning up.” He moves his hand away to drag his fingers on her bare shoulder. “Can hardly breathe, too, by the looks of it.” His touch is delicate.
She makes a small noise of discomfort before her body jerks into a coughing jag. She gasps for air between coughs, fingers weakly grabbing at her sheets. After around a minute, her fit ceases and leaves her more exhausted. “Shouldn't be here. Don't want you to get sick.” It took most of her energy to say that. This had to be a hallucination because she feels the bed become light again…
“You poor, poor thing. Pathetic little girl.” Dean grabs her by the arm, yanking her from the confines of her sweat laden sheets and onto the cold hard floor. “You're so stupid. So fucking stupid. Always have been. Letting me in and your guard down.” He climbs on top of her, one of his large hands wrapping around her throat. Dean knows she can't fight back and while it's less fun that way, the fact that she's struggling to breathe makes up for it. His green eyes flick to black for a moment and he chuckles at how her tired eyes widen.
Her body trembles beneath him and hands weakly claw at his arm. This was no hallucination and alarm bells rang in her head. Where was Sam? Was he alright? Did Dean hurt him? How many doses did Dean have left? How did he get loose? Calling for Castiel was out of the question because her airflow was completely cut off. Her lips part in a silent plea and pretty eyes are watery from oncoming tears.
“Look at you. Can barely even beg me.” Dean glances down at her chest, the loose tank top doing nothing to help cover her. He grabs the front of it, still holding her throat with his other hand, and rips it clean off. “Damn, baby! You've really been hiding these on me.” He smacks one of her breasts before grabbing at it. His cock twitches in his pants as he feels her squirm beneath him. “Knock it off or I'll snap your fucking neck!” Both hands are now wrapped around her neck, squeezing it and bringing some color back to her pale face. He watches in sick delight as her eyes roll back and her fingers attempt to grasp at his arms. “You want this. You want me. Always have. Maybe I wanted you, too but was too much of a pussy to say so. Now? You’re just a piece of fuck meat. Depending on if you survive, maybe I'll keep you around and use you as my personal toy.” Dean smirks, finally releasing her neck.
Air rushes back into her fluid filled lungs as Dean lets up. She practically chokes on her own phlegm and spit before she's able to get a proper breath in. “No.” She cries, reaching up to touch Dean’s face. That face she has loved for so long. “Don't do this. Let Sam help.” Her eyes roll back again as she feels Dean cut her air off again.
“I don't want to be helped!” He barks, eyes turning black. “I already told him that I don't want to be saved!” Dean squeezes her neck hard again before letting go and smacking her across the face. “This is who I am now, sweetheart. Don't like it? Too bad. Until I decide what I'm gonna do with you, I'm going to have my fun.” He raises his hand in the air, punching her a few times across the face this time. Her cries of pain only rile him up further and he almost comes in his pants once he hears a sickening crack.
“Stop!” She shrieks, nose bleeding heavily as Dean had broken it. A dizzy spell hits her from using so much energy just from shouting. She can hardly look at him straight and the room spins. The next thing she knows is her hair being pulled and body flung into the hall outside of her room. The back of her head hits the wall with a thud and wrist twists awkwardly as she lands on it. She wheezes in pain, trying to push herself up to go find Sam despite her sickly state.
Dean's heavy footsteps catch up to the crumpled heap of a woman. He grabs her by her jaw, lifting her effortlessly off the floor like a rag doll. “Are you gonna let me have my fun? Or are you gonna be a fucking spoil sport?” He whispers in her ear, body pinning hers against the wall. His hips grind into hers, his erection rubbing against her clammy thighs. “You always gotta ruin everything; stop drinking, Dean, stop tearing yourself apart, stop running ahead, Dean, love me! Love me! Love me!” He mocks, pulling her back before slamming her head against the wall again. “You want me to love you? This is the best you're gonna fucking get, bitch.” Dean throws her to the floor again and stands over her.
Her vision is blurred by tears as she looks up at Dean. These words were supposed to hurt, and they were, but this wasn't him. This wasn't her Dean. With a difficult swallow, she nods and tugs at her panties. It was a signal to let him know he had won.
“Oh, now you're behaving? Little miss sick girl decides something smart for once? Nah. I know what you're doing. Buying time for Sammy so he can come shoot me up with more of that human blood crap. It's how I got out in the first place. The trap doesn't exactly work when you're pumped full of human blood and still a demon.” Dean steps back, grabbing one of her ankles and lifting her leg up. “We're gonna go have fun in front of my little brother. But just in case you get anymore stupid ideas-”
CRACK!!
Her jaw falls slack and pain races up her left leg as Dean breaks her ankle. Something between a strangled cry, scream, and yelp manages to escape her lips. When she goes to gasp, another coughing fit hits her and she struggles to breathe again. There is absolutely no way she can fight back and the thought of hurting Dean made her stomach churn. Sure, she may have smacked him or socked him across the face a few times before, but actually hurting him? She couldn't. Even if he said all these hurtful things and was a demon, she still loved him… Even if he didn't feel the same.
“Why!? Why won't you let me in, Dean!?” She had cried out, standing in front of the elder Winchester in the bunker kitchen. All she wanted was to show him that he was worthy of love; her love. Why did he have to be so god damn stubborn? If only she could just show him how much he meant to her-
Dean takes another hefty gulp of whiskey, glossy eyes flicking to hers. “I don't just let people in, okay? When I do that, they die.” The chair drags across the floor as he stands up, too drunk and having no yield for this conversation.
She places a hand on his chest and snatches the bottle from him. Not just anyone besides herself, Castiel or Sam could do that. “I care about you. I want to help you! I know I can't fix you, but I want to at least ease some of the hurt you go through. Dean,” she takes a moment, lip quivering and heart racing, “I love-”
“Don't you dare finish that sentence!!” He backs away, acting like a wounded animal. “You don't know what the hell you're saying and you don't get to manipulate me like that!”
“I'm not manipulating you! Why would you even think that!? Please, Dean-” Hurt is evident in her shimmering eyes and she takes a step forward.
“NO!!” He roars
“Stop!” Sam finally steps between them, mediating. “Both of you, just stop.” He turns to her, hazel eyes shimmering with frustration. “Just.. Don't, okay? Now is not a good time. Please. Neither of you are in your right minds.” He turns to his brother with a pleading look.
Dean mutters something under his breath, dragging his feet and leaving the kitchen. Once inside of his room, he smacks his own head and battles against the razor wire feeling wrapping around his throat. The hot tears streaming down his face signal the razor wire won. It's better this way. She won't get hurt and she doesn't know what she's saying… But he wants her so bad. Wants her comfort. He is desperate to be held and loved. She will be dead because of him. Hunters don’t get a happy ending.
Dean drags her down the halls by her busted ankle until he reaches an unconscious Sam. He drops her leg carelessly and picks up the demon blade, twiddling it between his fingers. “I could just kill you both and sever whatever ties I have left. But what fun would that be?”
She doesn't even wince as Dean cuts into her skin with the blade. Cool air hits between her legs as he had effectively cut her panties in the process. The horrific throbbing of her ankle, the fatigue, the sickness, the struggle to breathe, her broken nose… This was a god damn nightmare.
“Sam.” Her tired eyes examine the younger Winchester's unconscious large body. Thankfully, he seemed mostly unharmed.
“Why are you moaning his name? I thought you loved me, hm? Whore.” Dean smacks her across the face, chuckling at the small noise he is able to pull out of her. His eyes gaze upon her naked, broken body and a sigh escapes his nose. “I can see why I stayed away.” He kneels down, crawling on top of her and biting her throat, sucking a dark bruise into her skin. One of his hands snakes down between her legs, dragging two fingers along her folds. The soft whimper he hears makes him smile. “I would ravage you every day. With a pussy this sweet? And how you look at me? Tsk.” He sucks another mark into her neck, fingers still rubbing along the seam of her pussy. “To think that you're choosing my baby brother now because I don't do love.”
“Dean-” she cries his name and tries to take in a breath of air. A slew of sensations assaulted her mind from everything that was happening all at once. It was hard to focus on one thing beforehand because she felt like she was drowning.
“Moaning my name now? Which one of us is it?” His fingers stop and he lifts his head to look at her. “Which one!?”
“You!” She wheezes, trying to keep her eyes open. “You. I love you, Dean. Please.. Please stop.” She takes another struggled breath, wishing that this was all just a bad dream. “Please.” While she loved Sam in her own way, it wasn't the type of love that she had felt for Dean.
He tilts his head, lips close to hers and thick fingers pushing into her cunt. Dean hums in satisfaction at the feeling of her gummy walls tightening around his fingers and the look of discomfort on her face. “Good girl. See? Just let me have my fun.” He disregards her begging. “That's it.” He begins to pump his fingers in and out, watching as she can't decide what it is she is feeling. “You always wanted this. All those times I was outside of your door when you weren't aware? I heard it, those sweet moans and the way you said my name. Your fingers deep in your pussy but not quite reaching like mine?” Dean moves his hand faster, making sure to hit the sensitive spots. “I was jacking off at how you sounded. Imagining the things I would do to you.”
Strangled moans and soft puffs of air meet Dean’s lips from her own. He was right, his fingers were hitting every spot she dreamt of him hitting. Her hips buck in tandem with his thrusts and she feels herself growing wetter from the filth that spewed from his mouth. It was like she had forgotten everything that had just happened within the past 20 minutes. Like he was breathing life into her to keep her from passing out. She tilts her head back as Dean’s fingers continue to hit that one spot, eyes rolling.
“Look at me!” Dean grabs her jaw, forcing her gaze on his as the pace of his hand becomes brutal. He can feel the wetness of her cunt splashing on his hand and the sloppy noises echoing in the halls. “For someone so sick, your pussy is fucking drenched.” Dean presses his forehead against hers, lips inches apart again. “You don't really need to breathe, do you baby?” His fingers pull out as soon as he feels her walls tighten around them. Releasing her head for a moment, Dean sits up and unbuckles his belt, tying it around her neck and pulling her up. “Like a fucking rag doll.” He mutters at how limp she is.
She watches as Dean pulls his pants and boxers down. If she wasn't boiling hot with fever already, her cheeks would be flushed from the sight of Dean's cock. It hits his clothed stomach, the tip leaking precum. Just like the rest of him, it's pretty; thick, long, and throbbing. Again, this was no position for her to be lusting after him. Dean was hurting her-
“Open.” He growls.
A tear rolls down her sweaty cheek as she obeys, letting her jaw fall. Without warning, her nose is buried in Dean’s pubic hair and cock lodged deep in her throat. Her eyes rolled up, unable to breathe as it was already difficult to do so. She makes pitiful noises around his length as he uses her throat like a toy. The problem was, she was getting wet from this. Letting her beloved Dean Winchester use her as he pleased was her ultimate pleasure, no matter what state she was in.
Dean licks his lips, grabbing a fistful of her hair while pulling her head back and forth on his cock. His eyes are glazed over at the utter submission of the woman that he continues to use as a fleshlight. “You realize this is all you’re good for. Dumping my load in where ever I fucking please.” He grits his teeth, thrusting into her mouth. Releasing her hair, he swipes his fingers through the viscous substance of drool, tears, sweat and snot. “Disgusting.” Dean spreads the concoction across her face and chuckles as she has no reaction.
She coughs around his cock, gagging on his length. Veins in her neck bulge a little, her head becoming more and more muddy. Black spots begin to dot her vision, but there is no way that Dean is going to let up until he comes. She chokes again as she feels her makeshift leash tugged. He’s close. His thrusts are becoming sloppy and the grunts become louder. Her broken nose is once again pushed against his coarse hair as hard as it will allow. Pain shoots in her face from how hard Dean is holding her face against him. Her stomach just about lurches as she feels his hot seed shoot down her throat, making her eyes roll.
He feels her throat tighten around his cock, making him cry out as he comes hard. “Swallow it all, slut.” He pants, pulling her off of him and watching her sputter and attempt to greedily gulp down what air she can in delight. A thick, opaque strand of her spit and his semen connects her lips to the head of his length. “Open that pretty mouth. Lemme see.”
Her eyes shut for a moment, body exhausted. There wasn’t a whole lot more that she could take as she had been so resilient this entire time. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead. A sharp smack across her face has her open her eyes and mouth. Her tongue hangs out a little, showing that she had swallowed everything. “Please… I can’t. No more.” She whispers, pain radiating everywhere.
“Yes you can and you will.”
The cool floor is a welcome sensation on her sticky back but that meager relief is short lived as Dean is straddling her, pushing his still very erect member between her breasts.
“I’ve dreamt about this. Fucking your tits like this. You’ve got the rack, why not use it?” He smacks one of her tender mounds. “Hold them together.”
Her arms feebly push her generous bust together and as a reward, Dean’s large hands are around her neck again. The precious air that she had been given was taken away once more. All she can do is look up at Dean as he squeezes her throat, digging his nails into her flesh and humping between her breasts. A splash of warm, slightly pungent liquid hits her chin, face and tits. He had come quickly again just by the sight of her destitute state. Luscious air fills what it can in her lungs as her bruised neck is released. For one second she glances over at the unconscious man-
Sam was out cold. It didn’t seem that he would wake up any time soon. At least he wouldn’t have to witness the awful things that his demonic older brother was doing to someone he considered a dear friend.
Time blurs as she is subjected to being cut, having the handle of the demon blade shoved into her cunt and fucked by it. Dean had licked the cuts he made on her, his saliva stinging the open wounds. By the end of his disturbing flaying session, she is trembling. Deep bruises are littered across her flesh with an assortment of cuts and bites. She stares blankly up at the ceiling, breaths labored and shallow. During this time, she had also been subjected to several orgasms. Many of which were ripped from her consecutively.
“So, so pretty… Red is your color.” Dean laughs cruelly, finally slotting himself between her legs. “It’s a shame that this will more than likely kill you. I would have loved to keep you as a pet and fill you over and over…” One of his fingers traces a cut on her stomach and he raises his brows. “Who knows? Maybe it might have stuck.” Reaching down, Dean lines himself up with her pussy and shoves inside of her. A loud groan spills from his lips as her walls hug his cock so nicely. The blunt tip hits spots that cause her to see black spots and stars alike. She feels like heaven… If he could imagine what that was like.
“Dean, Dean-” His name falls softly from her lips. It’s half a plea for him to stop and half pleasure. She is completely numb and holding on by a thread, this is her limit. The wet sounds of their bodily unification bounce off the walls. She can feel his fingers digging into the fat of her hips as he rams himself inside of her. This was everything she had ever wanted, right? Her breath is stolen by the taste of his lips against her own and she can hardly keep her eyes open. Their tongues meet in a passionate entanglement with Dean’s being the lead.
“Keep moaning my name. It sounds so pretty from you.” Dean’s hips snap faster, his head lowering to suck at her nipples. He releases one with a pop and his lips hover over her own. “You still love me? Even after all of this?”
An electrifying pulse spreads in her stomach as she feels Dean’s fingers rub at her overly sensitive clit. His voice is muddled and everything sounds like she’s underwater. Everything is becoming dark and she’s cold. She blinks once and he is coming inside of her. She blinks again and he’s standing above her, pissing on her body. The next time she blinks, the demon blade is in her abdomen and she can feel her blood rushing out. Faint screaming falls upon her ears as the world becomes black.
–
“Where is she?” Dean asks, his green gaze full of worry and clasped hands trembling. “Is she alright? What happened to her? Damn it, Cas, tell me!!” He stands up, knuckles white as he grips the table in the war room.”
The angel looks grimly at Dean and then down at the Mark of Cain scarred into his arm. “You hurt her. She is safe and recovering, but you did some horrific things to her.”
“No. No, no, no, no.” His hands grasp his hair as he stares blankly at the floor. Tears sting his eyes and fall freely down his sharp cheeks. Dean knew he would end up hurting her. In one way or another…
Summary: You're on your period but that doesn't stop Dean from taking what he wants.
Warnings: Mdni. Smut. Period Sex. Oral (F Receiving). Blood play kinda. Pet Names. Demon!Dean (he's a warning). No use of Y/N.
A/N: Got an ask for this a while ago from anon. Slowly catching up on fic requests lol. Not edited well.
masterlist — taglist
The door opens with a heavy creak.
You don’t move. You’re sprawled across the bed in nothing but Dean’s flannel, your bare legs tangled in the cheap motel sheets, heating pad long since gone cold. You’re cramping, tired, and aching in that low, pulsing way you hate.
But none of that matters the moment you hear his boots hit the floor.
He’s back from wherever he went. You gave up asking. You've been with him since he became a demon. Since the Mark made him a demon.
“Hey,” you murmur, voice soft, not turning to look. “Didn’t think you’d be back this early."
Dean doesn’t respond.
You feel it before you see him, that weight in the air, thick with something dark. Something that wasn’t there when he left.
You turn your head and he's just inside the doorway. Silent. Watching you.
And then he breathes in. Long. Deep. Slow. He goes still.
“What is that,” he says, quiet. But it’s not a question. His voice is a low, rough rasp.
His eyes drop to your bare thighs. The flannel shirt bunched around your hips. The tiny smear of red on the inside of your leg.
Then his eyes meet yours, and they flick to that empty, dark, black.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, a slow, wicked smile curling across his lips. “You’re bleeding.”
You sit up quickly. “Dean, wait—”
He pushes you back down, hand going over your mouth to shut you up.
“I can smell it,” he growls, voice going low and gravelly. “The second I walked in. That sweet little tang in the air. Copper and heat and wet.”
He stands back up.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t think you’d—”
“Would what? Say no?” His grin turns sharp. His eyes flick back to his normal green, but still dark with desire. “Fuck no. You think this turns me off?” He stands at the edge of the bed, staring down at you like you’re a feast. “You think I don’t want you like this?”
He’s already pulling off his jacket. Dropping it to the floor.
“I want you more.”
You shift, breath catching, and that’s all it takes. He’s on you in a blink, grabbing your ankles and dragging you down the bed to the edge.
“Dean—"
“You’re ripe,” he growls, kneeling between your legs, shoving the shirt up to your waist. “You’re dripping for me, bleeding for me. Fuck, baby, this pussy’s begging to be fed.”
He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t wait.
His mouth is on you, tongue dragging through your folds, licking the blood and slick like it’s the first real meal he's had in days. He groans like it hurts, fingers digging into your thighs as he spreads you wider.
You gasp, your hips jerking, but he pins them down.
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he growls against your skin. “You’re gonna let me devour this pretty little pussy. Let me taste what your body’s giving me.”
He eats you like a starving man.
Your hands clutch the sheets, back arching, thighs shaking as he moans into your cunt, tongue fucking you deeper and rougher. The sound of it is obscene. The sounds of slurping, panting, low growls vibrating through your core.
“You taste like sin,” he groans. “Like blood and want and mine.”
You’re falling apart, legs trembling, your breath is ragged as he pushes you over the edge. You cry out, clenching around his tongue, and he doesn’t stop. Just keeps licking, like he’s trying to drink every last drop.
When he finally pulls back, his mouth is soaked. Chin slick with a faint red. He looks dangerous.
You're trying to catch your breath.
Then he’s already unzipping his jeans.
He flips you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips into the air.
“You wrecked already, baby?” he mutters, lining himself up. “I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
He sinks in slow, stretching you open, blood and slick easing the way. You whimper, gripping the sheets as an anchor.
Dean groans in your ear.
“That’s it,” he growls. “Feel that? That’s me claiming you.”
He fucks you deep, steady, skin slapping with every thrust.
"You take me so fuckin' well, my bloody little slut," He growls, hips meeting yours roughly.
He continues moving rough and fast until you're at the edge again, trembling beneath him as you cry out his name. He fucks you through your orgasm.
His orgasm follows as he grinds into you, filling you with his cum.
His cock is still buried inside you, his chest rising and falling with heavy, ragged breaths. His hands are on your hips, holding you wide open, and the sheets beneath you are ruined, streaked in blood and slick and sweat.
Dean pulls out slowly, and the mess between your legs makes him groan.
He stares at your cunt clenching around nothing, dripping his cum, your blood, everything.
“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging a finger through it. Watching the mixture coat his skin. He lifts it to his mouth and licks it clean with a low growl.
He lays down beside you, leaning over to kiss your neck.
“You ever hide this from me again,” he murmurs, voice still dark but quieter now, “I’ll tie you to this bed and make sure you never hide it from me again.”
A/N: We did not get a long enough time with Demon Dean.
