Kinktober: Day 10, Bonds (Telepathic or Empathic)
Yandere!Demon!McCree x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Noncon, Dubcon, Somnophilia (sort of).
“Shhh,” he whispers into your subconscious, hot air tickling your neck. “Don’t wake. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me.”
You’ve never seen him. You don’t know him, but he knows you. The demon that resides in your home knows you better than even you know yourself. He knows what makes you tick. What makes you roar with laughter and what brings tears to your eyes. The dirty fantasies that run on repeat in your lonely head, all the thoughts that soak your underwear. McCree’s voice is soothing honey on your heightened nerves. His presence is potent—the creeping feeling of imminent danger incarnate—and caused you to stir in your deep sleep.
Your body relaxes into an unnaturally pliant state. The more the demon bores his glowing stare into you, the more your mind and your moldable dream state become his playground. Hovering his ghostly fingers over your body, he creeps them all the way from your head to your toes. Your vulnerable body reacts with bed shaking quivers. You sigh out wistfully as McCree flutters his fingers back up your leg and hovers them over your mound.
McCree curls his fingers into a fist as his words echo inside your dream state. “Clench for me.” All of a sudden your hips lurch up off the bed as you sharply gasp. He chuckles. “Nice. Now do it again.” Moaning out you roll your hips up against nothing. “Good girl.” McCree doesn’t have a heart, but he swears he can feel something skip, something--flutter within his spiritual form gazing at the sweet smile that stretches across your face.
McCree hovers over your face studying the nuances of how your brows furrow and your lips purse as he stays there. He can’t kiss you, not yet. Can’t make you taste his salt, or feel the vigor with which he cares for you. He isn’t strong enough. But he can puppet your dreams. You’re already on the right track, you just need a little nudge in the right direction. He moans into your ear, deep and reverberating. If you were awake to hear it you would have thought an angry hound was breathing down your neck.
In your dream, the sound conjures up a vague representation of himself. That dream man is welcomed into your bed with a wide spread of your legs. There sprawled out in your dream bed, you’re butt naked and the Sun shines brightly through a wide picture window that you don’t really have. Here you feel warm and safe and happy to have his mouth latching onto your sex.
“Mmm,” he croons, his voice filling the room. “You taste amazing, Darlin’.”
You don’t flinch, don’t try to tear away from him when his particularly long, thick tongue prods at your entrance and slips inside. Writhing around in your insides, your clit surges with blood and the sensitive bundle of nerves inside your pussy swells and pulses just as much. He wraps a muscular arm around your thigh and thumbs your clit through its hood. Keeps working at your silky soft walls until pressure builds and releases in the form of a very-real life orgasm.
You cry out and cling to your sheets. “McCree,” he whispers to you. “McCree. Say it.” You do. You whine it out, mewl it. His whole being tingles at hearing it. He has to hear you say it more. And he has all night to earn more of it.
