Dark Tendencies: A Female Reader x Dean Winchester Fic

29

Y/N's POV

In the weeks that followed Dean and I's passionate reunion...despite our declaration of love for one another... the atmosphere in the house was full of dread and anxiousness.

Dean had made me feel like the luckiest woman in the world...but it was hard to bask in it when him, Sam, and Cas just spent their time attempting to come up with a gameplan to fix the current apocalyptic catastrophe...and always coming up woefully short.

The stress all of them carried held a crushing weight...and it was visibly wearing on all of them.

Sometimes I looked at Cas, and wondered if his miraculous healing powers could take care of nerves and despair as well...but clearly they couldn't, because I'd even caught the angel himself partaking in some heavy drinking when it was all just too much to bare.

I did what I could for all of them...doing my best to try and keep spirits up. I was Sam's shoulder to cry on, I was Cas's assistant in scanning the entire library for some kind of clue, and Dean...I'm sure you can figure out how I helped keep his mind off things.

I knew now that he loved me...but that didn't squander his dark tendencies... if anything, it amplified them.

At least every other day, Dean was in need. And it wasn't lovey-dovey, mushy need, no.... it was primal. It was brutal. Sometimes, it was downright scary.

But I gladly underwent all of it. Not only was I a full-blown masochist at this point... but the cross he carried was just so heavy, and every time I saw the sorrowful look in his eyes...I just needed to help....I needed to ease the burden in some way....and if I couldn't do it by aiding in the fight against Lucifer....I could do it by absorbing all the pain he threw my way.

After all... that's what I initially signed up for, isn't it?

Anyone on the outside looking in must think I was insane. I mean, how could anyone call it 'love' when he got the most satisfaction from pure, ruthless sadism?

But it was love. It was love in such a raw, powerful art form. I trusted him with my body...with my soul...with every single part of me. In turn, he trusted me to absorb his pain...to be his escape. He trusted me enough to reveal his darkest side to me...and I was the only person on Earth who he allowed to see it.

How could it not be love when such a strong bond of trust was in place?

Lately, he had taken to more intense forms and methods of dominance.

Sometimes it was gentle, which was still agonizing, given the anticipation he flooded me with...other times it was brutal, and my skin would be littered with bruises and red welts afterwards.

But no matter how bad it got...he'd always ask me for my color-coded safety words. My comfort, my safety, and my consent was always first and foremost in his mind... what woman doesn't find that a massive turn on?

Apparently I was a tough woman to break, given I really never used the word 'red'... and he'd commented once or twice about how that was one of the reasons he found me so attractive, which obviously fueled my own ego.

I didn't mind the bruises and marks at all... because each one was symbolic to me. Each mark left on me was another bit of pain and stress that he'd been able to get out of his system...and I loved him so much that just knowing that was enough satisfaction for me.

Let alone how heart-stoppingly pleasurable it all was, and the sexual euphoria he always left me in...whether I was merely just satisfied, or a trembling, gasping mess left unable to move.

He played the angel and the demon perfectly....during the day, I was his beautiful trophy, and he'd even taken to calling me his girlfriend whenever I was brought up in conversation. And I knew we weren't about the puppy-love thing...but god damn did that make me swoon.