#if you keep going like this you’ll be tossed around like a damn ragdoll soon

[from-the-stone-art]

There’s something like the anticipation of a kiss, then the pleasure of being cloaked in peace~

Bonus

#gale casted puppy dog eyes…. it was a critical hit #if you keep going like this you’ll be tossed around like a damn ragdoll soon #he’s so bbygirl when he looks up at her <3 #wifey material for sure #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #weave scene #bg3 #my oc #auriate #tiefling #yes I am not normal about these two #tav #bg3 tav

[honeypiehotchner]

Satan’s Waterfall (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

I couldn’t think of a name for this to save my life, but Satan’s waterfall is literally what I call my period so... (Also this is 100% self-insert because my period was from actual HELL yesterday)

I wrote this instead of doing my homework. Enjoy xx

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: SMUT! period sex in the shower, “good girl” is said many times, Daddy kink (a lil), slight size kink (it’s inevitable with him), you and Hotch are newly married (I wrote “husband” organically and kept it)

It’s the second day of your period.

The first day is always the worst. The cramps are so severe that you’re nauseated (sometimes actually to the point of puking your guts out) and dizzy, freezing but somehow sweating, hungry but in too much pain to bring yourself to eat more than some crackers, and in desperate need of chocolate or coffee -- even though both of those things make everything else a thousand times worse.

You’re on birth control -- which was Aaron’s first question when he witnessed your period for the first time, completely on accident because you forgot you invited him over when your period was scheduled to hit. So, needless to say, it was maybe your fourth date night ever with your now-husband, and he had to hold your hair back as you puked. You had meant to reschedule that night, but you honestly weren’t feeling too bad until halfway through the movie the two of you decided to watch.

Regardless, birth control helps regulate your period and put it on a schedule, but so far it hasn’t done much to help the pain. Although, you used to pass out, and you don’t anymore, so maybe birth control has helped in a slight way.

Aaron doesn’t think it has at all. He still worries every single month, threatening to take time off of work (at least on the first day) to be with you, but you always tell him not to. You essentially threaten to become an unsub if he doesn’t take his ass to work, but he doesn’t find the joke as funny as you do.

Sometimes he’ll stay home because he’ll wake up and you’ll be in a shivering mess on the bathroom floor, or wide-awake next to him in bed (did anyone say period-induced insomnia?), or groaning to yourself quietly on the couch, having been there for hours so as not to disturb him.

Which is how yesterday went, actually, so that’s why he’s not home today because you told him if he stays home again to coddle you, you might become a fuming toddler.

Thankfully (but unfortunately for him), Chief Strauss called a meeting, so he had no choice but to go to work.

The second days aren’t even that bad. You’re still basically bed-ridden (or couch-ridden, at least, because the TV is in the living room), but you’re not puking and you’re not dizzy. You occasionally sweat like crazy when a wave of cramps comes, but nothing like yesterday.

You’ve showered, changed into new sweatpants and one of Aaron’s old t-shirts, had breakfast and lunch, and you’ve even done a load of laundry (mainly because you bled through the sheets last night). You’re having a much better day.

But, because it’s still that time of the month, it isn’t a great day because you’re still cramping. And lucky you, a bad wave hits right when Aaron walks in from work.

“I told you to let me stay today,” he says gently, pushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead.

“These are nothin’,” you whine, reaching out for his hand to hold anyway. “They’ll be gone soon.”

“You’re pale. Have you eaten?”

“Mhm, breakfast and lunch,” you nod, letting your eyes slip closed when the cramps ease. You feel your heating pad getting cold. It must’ve turned off. You start fumbling around for the controller, but Aaron beats you to it, turning it back on.

“That’s good,” he says. “What about water?”

“Oh, oops,” you chuckle. “I had one glass this morning.”

“And?”

“Anddd coffee.”

“Y/N…” He sighs. “What have I told you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I need to drink extra water when I’m like this. But here’s my thing: I’m suffering enough already, why make me suffer more by making me drink water?”

“Because it’s good for you,” he mutters, standing to fill a glass. “And you’re drinking more tonight. I don’t care if you’re up peeing all night--”

“I’ll wake you up every damn time I do.”

“Gladly,” he smirks, returning with the glass. “Come on, up. Drink.”

Begrudgingly, you sit up, muttering curses under your breath because now your back is cold which means you’re hurting more. Wordlessly, Aaron lifts the heating pad and holds it to your back while you drink some water.

“Good girl,” he says, taking the empty glass from you and sitting it on the coffee table.

“Don’t say that to me,” you grumble, already laying back down and grabbing a blanket, tucking it under your chin.

“Why not?” He asks, smoothing your hair again, smiling when you close your eyes.

“Because it gives me thoughts.”

“Thoughts?”

You open your eyes a little. “Thoughts.”

Aaron chuckles when you close your eyes again, effectively hiding from him. “Honey pie, you’re going to have to tell me what thoughts you’re talking about.”

“You know what thoughts I’m talking about,” you breathe. “Sexy thoughts.”

“Ahh, sexy thoughts,” he laughs.

“But I can’t have those right now.”

“Why not?”

“Hello?” You open your eyes, giving him a look. “It’s the time of Satan’s waterfall?”

“Satan’s-- Okay, just because you’re on your period, doesn’t mean we can’t have sex. It might make you feel better.”

“Oh, orgasms do, yes. I’ve had two today.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t give me that look. My issue is, I want you inside me when you call me a good girl.”

“I still can be.”

You scrunch your nose. “Too messy. I just washed the sheets.”

“Not in bed,” Aaron squeezes your hand. “We have a shower.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Is my husband into period sex?”

He laughs loudly. “I’ve always thought about it, but you’re always in so much pain, I didn’t want to ask.”

“We’ve done worse things than have sex while I’m bleeding.”

“Yeah, but…” He lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles. “I never want to hurt you.”

You can’t help but grab his face and kiss him then, too overcome with love for him to stop yourself. His care, his tenderness. You’ve asked him to throw you around like a literal ragdoll before, and yet he’s still worried about hurting you.

“You know I’ll tell you,” you whisper, stealing another kiss. “You never hurt me. At least not in ways I don’t like.”

He groans into your mouth. “Time for a shower.”

“Already?” You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He lifts you from the couch and guides your legs around his torso, all the while keeping his lips on yours. He digs his fingers into your thighs and you squeal, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You have no idea how he manages to get to the bathroom without knocking into anything, but you’re not questioning it.

He sets you down and you start ripping off your clothes, and he joins you after turning the shower on.

“Someone’s excited,” he chuckles, feeling your fingers on his belt. All you have on are your panties, but he’s still got pants on which is unfair.

“Hey, you suggested it, so I want it.”

“Okay, okay,” he tosses his belt out into the bedroom, laughing because you’re already unbuttoning and unzipping him. “You are eager.”

“I’m horny,” you correct him. “And it’s your fault.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he kisses your forehead. “But I’ll take care of it.”

“You better.”

While he’s busy finishing undressing, you kick your panties away and hop in the shower, adjusting the temperature.

Aaron steps in a moment later, a stupid grin on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” you reply, relaxing under the hot water. “This feels good.”

His face softens. “Are you hurting again?”

“Not really,” you roll your shoulders. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

“I’m not,” he promises, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine,” you tug him closer, tilting your head to accept his kiss.

He starts slow, wanting to gauge your reactions before he does anything too drastic. He rubs your clit gently, waiting until he hears a moan before he continues. When his tongue slips into your mouth, one finger sinks into your core.

It’s different, that he’ll admit. You feel warmer and wetter, but you’re definitely not in any pain. Your moans are too loud for that.

He dips his head to your neck, suckling there, letting you thread your fingers in his hair while he slips a second finger into you. You gasp a little too loud and a little too suddenly, so he stops, but quickly starts again when your fingernails dig into his scalp in protest.

“Are you okay?” He mumbles against the hickey on your neck.

“More,” you whimper.

He scissors his fingers, wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you steady. The added pressure of three of his fingers buried inside you nearly makes your knees buckle. Everything about him is so big and it makes you weak when you even as much as think about it.

He moves back to your lips, kissing you deeply, pausing only to ask, “How does that feel, little one?”

“M’gonna cum,” is your only reply, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “As much as you want, sweet girl. This is all about making you feel good. There you go.” He feels the first flutterings of your walls. He spreads his fingers slightly, knowing you love the stretch, when his fingers press right into your g-spot. “Come on, honey. Let go.” He moves his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles before spreading his fingers once more, shooting you over the edge.

You cling to his shoulders, nearly biting him from the force of it. Everything is so much more sensitive when you’re on your period and you knew that, but it’s different when it’s him. It always is.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, easing you to the ending waves of your orgasm. “How was that?”

“Amazing, do you even need to ask?” You laugh, kissing him. “Can you please get inside me?”

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes for good measure, even though you know he wouldn’t tease you, not right now. He just wanted to hear you say it.

“Of course,” he steals another kiss before finally taking his fingers from you. Wordlessly, he washes the blood away, and you should’ve known he wouldn’t give two shits about this.

And you’re right, he doesn’t. The sight of blood doesn’t phase him anymore, especially not your period because it’s natural. And right now he’s too worried about making you feel good to even bother pretending to be grossed out by it.

He’s already hard, so you can’t help but reach down and stroke him, grinning when he groans loudly.

Before you can blink, though, he has you up in his arms and against the wall, your legs already settling around his hips.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he says again, looking into your eyes. “Okay?”

“Yes, I promise,” you assure him.

Accepting that answer, he drops his hand to guide himself inside of you, moving as slow as possible -- which you appreciate, even if you do want to be fucked. But you’ve never had sex on your period before, not even with previous partners, so you weren’t sure if having a dick inside you would actually feel good.

But damn it does.

You know part of it is because it’s Aaron, your husband, your best friend. His dick is good on a normal day, but when you’re sensitive from your period, it’s even better.

“Oh my fucking God.”

“What?” He stops moving, leaning his head back to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair again. “Nothing. It feels good.”

He smirks, rocking his hips slowly, letting you take more of him. “Feels good?” He asks, and you nod. “Is it wrong of me to enjoy this?” He whispers, going deeper. “You’re so warm.”

“Harder, please.”

He slams his hips forward, nipping at your neck when you whine loudly. “Are you gonna cum again?”

You nod your head lazily, locking your ankles behind his back, arching your back, forcing him deeper. A groan stutters in his throat when he feels his head teasing your cervix.

You like that normally, but his paranoia has him pulling back. “Are you--”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me.”

He doesn’t question you after that, especially not with the lethal look you had in your eyes.

With no more hesitations, Aaron finally gives in. Every thrust is deep, yet you still push your hips up, trying to take even more. He’s never seen you like this, this greedy and almost animalistic in the way you’re chasing your orgasm.

He lets you guide him, staying still when you pull him in as deep as he can go and hold him there. He nearly explodes a few times, having to stay still while your walls pulsate around him.

Soon you’re quite literally thrown into your second orgasm when Aaron’s thumb rubs your clit as he pushes in deep, staying there, letting you squirm until he tells you to let go, and you do.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing your cheek lovingly. “That’s my good girl.”

Once your orgasm has settled down, he carefully lifts you off of him, setting you back on your feet. A puzzled look crosses your face.

“What?”

“You didn’t…”

He smiles. “I told you, I wanted to make you feel good.”

“And you did, but--”

“It’s okay, sweet girl.” He kisses your forehead once before turning to rinse off his dick, but you’re not giving up that easily.

You sneak your hands around his waist, resting your cheek on the middle of his back while you swat his hands out of the way.

“Little girl...what do you think you’re doing?”

“Making you feel good,” you murmur, gently stroking him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum with a muffled cuss word under his breath. You sigh happily against his back, letting go of his dick to hug him instead.

Aaron turns around to gather you in his arms, moving forward slightly so your face isn’t directly under the water. “Is someone tired?”

You shake your head, even though you practically bury yourself in his chest. “Just content.”

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you giggle. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he kisses your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner smut #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

[digital-corruption]

I. Think. I'm. Finally. Done. Editing! It didn't help that this week has been very strenuous at work and I've been falling asleep right after dinner. Thank you for your patience.

Ahem...

⚠️ The following content contains bucket tons of smut. It is not suitable for people under the age of 18 so if you are under the age of 18, GET LOST. There is no plot here so by skipping this you will miss nothing.

Haunted by the Past Part 77.5

As soon as the hotel room door shut behind Jake, even before turning on the rest of the lights, he was grabbing and pulling at my clothes frenziedly. I had to help him to keep him from ripping them off my body. He came so damned closed to ripping my panties. Since all of my effort was spent keeping him controlled, I now found myself naked and pinned against the wall by a still fully clothed Jake. One hand held my hands about my head while his other hand went between my legs all the while he sucked and nipped at my neck. He inserted one finger, then a second, and rubbed furiously at my insides.

“Mmm, Jake, slow down, we have the room for the entire night,” I moaned.

“I don’t think you understand,” he whispered in my ear. “Tonight you are mine.”

Jake withdrew his fingers before I reached my climax. He clumsily unzipped his pants and pulled them down to reveal his hard, throbbing penis. He released my hands to lift my legs up and around him as he pushed his cock into me. Relentlessly he pounded into me against the wall. Desperately I tried to control my screams of pleasure.

“Don’t hold back. I want everyone to know. I want them to wish they were us,” he grunted.

I moaned at the top of my lungs, which drove Jake in frenzy. His fingers dug into my thighs as he pounded even heavier into me. My eyes rolled back as he pushed me over my edge and I came all around him. Jake pulled out and let me gently back down. He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the far side of the room. With one move he pulled back the curtains to the night cityscape. With the next move he pressed my face and chest into the window, having bent me over so he could take me from behind. His fingers ran down my back, lightly grazing his nails like he was fighting the urge to leave deep scratches. His fingers stopped at my hips where he grabbed them roughly and slammed back into me.

Within no time, Jake was back to pounding into me, but my legs were getting weaker. My knees started to shake. I pushed back against the glass and arched my back a bit. Jack grabbed my head by the roots of my hair and arched me further. I was at his mercy and I accepted it. I didn’t just accept it, I loved it. I craved it. When he stopped suddenly all I could do was whimper.

“Let me hear you ask for it,” he ordered with a slap on the ass. “Let me hear you beg for it.”

“Jake please,” I moaned.

He slapped me again, “Jake please what?”

“Jake please fuck me,” I continued.

Another slap, “I’m already doing that.”

“Jake please cum inside me. I'm yours,” I groaned.

Jake snickered, “You are.”

He pulled harder on my hair, forcing me to arch more and pulling my head further away from the glass as he rammed ruthlessly into me. We both moaned loudly, uncontrollably. I came heavily again and he shortly after. Our mutual messes dripped down my thighs while I was kept there, presented in front of the window while Jake twitched inside me.

There was a knock on the door and the soft call of “Room service.” I had completely forgotten that we had ordered it downstairs in the lobby. Jake pulled away and moved to the door, grabbing his pants as he went. I weakly sat down on the bed still in a complete daze. After swiftly pulling his pants back up, Jake opened the door and pulled the room service trolley into the room. The door closed and Jake decided it was time to turn on the rest of the lights for the room. As he pushed the trolley towards the bed he grabbed the bathrobe from the closet and tossed it to me to put on.

“I can’t help but feel that things are a bit uneven between us,” I commented as I put the robe on.

“What are you talking about?” Jake looked at me confused as he sat down on the bed next to me.

“You’re fully dressed and I’m not,” I frowned.

Jake smirked devilishly, “No sense wasting time putting your clothes back on when I'm just going to tear them off again as soon as you finish eating.”

Jake removed the two covers from our dishes. He ordered a simple spaghetti with meatballs while I had a roast meal. While I leaned forwards to dig in, Jake leaned back and watched me eat.

“You’re not going to eat yours?” I looked at him puzzled.

“Mine's too hot,” he replied.

I shrugged and went back to eating mine. While I ate, he barely touched his, only eating small amounts of it. By the time I declared myself full, he had barely made a dent in his.

“You’re done?” asked Jake as I eagerly drank the water.

“Mmhmm,” while swallowing. “You still barely touched yours. It should be a good temperature now.”

“It is,” he responded darkly.

He leant over and kissed me tenderly while pushing me back on the bed. Once he had me lying down, he pushed aside the robe and knelt up between my legs to pull off his hoodie.

“Your dinner's going to get cold,” I laughed.

“No it’s not, you'll keep it warm,” Jake reached over and moved his plate beside me on the bed.

“What are you-" I was interrupted by Jake dribbling his spaghetti onto my abdomen. “Jake!”

“It’s a good temperature now?” he teased. “We both agreed that you’re mine. Therefore, I'll eat off you if I want to.”

With that Jake leant down keeping his eyes locked on mine as he slurped an entire noodle from one end slowly, causing it to slowly drag across my abdomen. As soon as he had slurped the entire thing he licked the sauce off my skin. I squirmed under him, but he held me still as he moved to the next. He had so much spaghetti left and he intended to take his sweet time eating one piece at a time off of me. The next time he dribbled the spaghetti across my breasts, sneaking nipple licks and sucks in. It was absolute torture. I wanted nothing more than for him to be finished and give me release from the heat he was building. However he had a very large bowl and he was making it last. I closed my eyes tight as the sensation of his mouth and tongue running all over was driving me insane. It was endless.

After a while I realized it was only him, he had long stopped eating his pasta and he was now just playing with me. He looked up and made eye contact with me again. He smirked and moaned as he licked from the base of my abdomen all the way between my breasts, up my neck to my chin. He repositioned his body over me, then began kissing below my ear. His fingers drifted down between my legs and rubbed gentle circles around my clit. I moaned uncontrollably as he left wet kisses down my neck. Jake’s breathing became heavier, raspier. He dragged his bottom lip back up my neck and nibbled on my earlobe. I ran my hand up the back of his head then raked my nails back down.

Jake pulled away and removed all of his clothes. He then pushed my legs up and spread them wide apart, giving himself full access to push in. He groaned loudly at the feeling of being inside again then leant forwards to kiss me while he started rutting into me. I wrapped my arms and legs around him to keep him close. We looked deeply into each other’s eyes. I was so lost in his I didn’t notice his hand drifting to my neck until he started squeezing gently. His face twisted as I gasped. He leant forwards and kissed my lips sensually as his hand gripped a bit tighter. There was so many mixed signals from him, like he couldn’t make up his mind how he wanted to handle me.

“I don’t think you understand how crazy you make me,” he whispered, releasing his grip on my neck.

“I have an inkling,” I smirked.

“Because of you I am now free,” he spoke softly. “And yet all I want to do is tear into you. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Does it have to make sense?” I questioned.

“You'll stop me from hurting you, won’t you?” he pleaded.

“Yes,” I muttered before crushing my lips onto his.

He moaned against my lips and slid his tongue into my mouth. Our tongues tangled as his hand shifted from my throat down to my hip. His fingers clawed up my skin. I groaned with pleasure against him. He grinded more passionately into me. My hands clawed at the back of his shoulders. He grunted deeply and pulled away. He turned me over forcefully. His hands grabbed my hips, pulling them up into the air as he slammed back into me. I screamed out in pleasure as I nearly orgasmed on the spot. With the second thrust hitting into my cervix, I did.

“Oh, fuck!” Jake cried out as I came around him.

He reached for my arms. Gripping one in each hand he lifted me up and fucked me in a frenzy. I was no more than a ragdoll in his control. My body started to go limp as my mind emptied. I could not form any thoughts other than how much I loved being used by him. He let go, letting me collapse into the bed as his hands gripped my hips roughly. His fingers dug into my skin. I pushed myself up on my arms so I could push back against him. One of his hands ran nails down my back possessively, then slapped my ass. He grunted and growled like a feral beast. His pure lust kept flooding into me, overwhelming everything else. The next orgasm would be it, it would be my end. I would not be able to function after. I moaned louder and louder as it built up until I was screaming in ecstasy as it washed over me. Jake rammed heavily into me before flooding me with his cum, crying out as he did.

I slumped onto the bed, my body quickly shutting down to sleep. Jake twisted me around to my side so he could spoon me. My eyes were so heavy that I couldn’t keep them open. His entire body wrapped around me and held me close to him. As I drifted off to sleep, he whispered sweet nothings into my ear.

--

I woke up the next morning still in Jake’s tight, loving embrace. I glanced at the clock in front of me and frowned.

“Go back to sleep,” Jake grumbled.

“It’s already 9,” I pointed out. “Check out is at 10.”

Jake groaned, “That’s not even enough time for one more round.”

“You've had enough rounds,” I laughed. “We live together, remember?”

“Yes, but then I have to care about the messes we make,” he reasoned. “Come on, I’ll help you to the shower.” Jake rolled out of bed groggily and walked over to my side.

“I can get myself to the shower,” I frowned. I went to stand up, but my legs nearly gave out so I sat back down.

Jake chuckled as he helped me stand, “Will you accept my help now?”

Jake walked with me to the bathroom. He filled a glass with water for me to drink while he got the shower temperature ready. Like an absolute gentleman he helped me into the shower. The shower ended up taking most of the hour as we could hardly keep our hands and mouths off each other, but we did eventually make it out of the room by 10.

#duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood smut #duskwood

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 16)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 3,200    

Section Content: fluff, flirting, angst, smut, R-rated language, oral sex

~~~~~

The drive back from Cas and Jack’s, after dropping them off, was quiet except for the airstream whipping past and into Baby’s cabin, and the Zeppelin soundtrack. Dean liked that Julie seemed fine just… being. And, just being with him. Not a ton of talk filling up the space between them.

After two weeks of being brushed off by Julie - dealing in her own way, which he respected, with the crazy shit she’d gone through - he felt anything but distant from her now. He’d come to terms with a lot during Julie’s unspoken restraining order. One, that this was turning into something greater than an infatuation. Another, Julie was not another hot chick of the week that he could save and reap sexy rewards and move on. This was not a throwback to his full-time hunting slash lothario days. Most important and scariest: he really wanted to keep her in his inner circle.

The question that kept resounding in his head. How? How would he do that, tell her everything, deal with the fallout? How does anything normal form after I show my hand? He could make love to this beautiful woman for days and days and enjoy every goddamn second of it. But, how could he really get close to her? And keep her safe? He realized how much he craved wanting to keep her safe. Story of my life.

Fuck it. Just making my head hurt with this round and round bullshit. She’s here. Now. His fingers crept over the front seat and wedged into the slit of crossed, warm, silky bare thighs. With a nonchalant motion, she angled more in his direction and allowed better access. A light smirk lined her lips as she stared out the passenger side window; the curve of her nose more prominent in the profile he glanced at again and again. He didn’t tease further, even though he wanted to dip his fingers into her folds; see if she was wet, soaked. He’d been dealing with a semi all fucking day, after all. She better be drenched. Only fair.

His palm pressed into her skin. Just inches away from that sweet snack. His tongue swirled in his mouth, remembering how tangy and sweet she tasted. How she bucked and twisted and ticked like a little time bomb. How gorgeous she looked when she came for him. He debated if he should pull off to the shoulder and eat her out again before they got home. Right in the front seat. He shook his head. No. That’ll lead to a fast and quick fuck. Way too quick. Dean shifted in his seat and caught Julie staring at him in confusion. “What are you arguing with yourself about?” She smiled.

Dean cleared his throat. “Nothin.”

By the time he was at his front door, working the lock open, he was amped and ready to pounce. It took every ounce of will power to rein in his need.

Her body leaned into his back. The warmth of her chin rested into the dip under his shoulder blades. “Getting tired, sweetheart?”

“Nope. Just like being close to you.”

He smiled, gaining entry. “So cheesy, it’s cute.”

“Yeah. You’re rubbing off on me.”

A flick of a nearby wall switch turned on the ceiling fan light in the living room. His eyes inventoried the space. Not the cleanest; but not the dirtiest it’s been, either. He spun and pulled her into the house by an arm and kicked the door closed. “I wanna rub all over you.”

Julie’s surprised and awakened eyes met his grin. She laughed. “Promise?”

His body pressed into the curves he wanted to memorize and ride all damn night. He nodded into a kiss that began on her lips, swept over her cheeks and trailed down the side of her neck. His fists curled into and tightened the t-shirt around her waist. “Italians do it better, huh?” He mumbled against her skin. ”We’ll see about that.”

A tight hitch of air caught in his throat at the feel of her fingers searching, finding, then fumbling with his belt buckle. His cock was inflating to fuck ready status in his jeans at an alarming rate, even for him. The strap loosened in an instant. Clinking of metal. A deft pull of leather through the denim loops, like a rip cord. Or a whip. The thought of Julie in a shiny black vinyl bustier swinging a riding crop made him bite his bottom lip.

His posture straightened. He dipped his chin to his chest to examine her thorough attentiveness with the task at hand. He didn’t relent his hold, pulling her even closer with clenched fists twisted in her t-shirt. The top of her lids and long lashes fluttered, staring at her own hands unbuttoning, unzipping. Quick inhales and exhales escaped her open mouth. He spied the tip of her tongue teasing that cupid’s bow. “Shit.” He moaned at the sight and feel of her fingers delving under the denim of his open fly, under the waistband of his boxer briefs, touching the heat and rigid state of his cock. She caressed and cupped his bulge, flicking her thumb over the head.

She tilted her face up to stare at him with those pretty brown eyes, tinted dark and heavy with lust. She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him. Her tongue tasted, investigated, matching the pace of her now stroking fingers.

His tongue swirled and danced with hers until she took a long languid suck. She pulled on the tip, held it hostage, then nibbled. The responsive muscle popped out of her mouth and he gasped. “Like having your way with me, sweetheart?” His chest heaved.

She grinned and nodded. “I wanna taste you.”

He gulped. “Bedroom’s this way.”

A shake of her head swung her ponytail. “Here. Can’t wait a second longer.” She kissed his lips one more time. The slide down his body was slow, meeting resistance from Dean who refused to release her t-shirt from his grasp. A sigh escaped from her lips. She pulled her hands out of his pants and lifted arms straight up. His eyes widened as she shimmied out of the shirt like it was a snake skin. The hypnotic display ended with her kneeled in front of him in a white cotton bra and those sweet jean shorts. The tops of her breasts stuffed into the cups rose and fell with her eagerness. His eyes lit up, glancing behind at the bare soles of her cute little feet. When the hell did she take off her sneakers and socks? She’s a little magician.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable on the hardwood, sweetheart.” He groaned at the pull of her fingers to get his jeans and underwear off. “Wait. Just a couple seconds longer.” He tossed her inside out t-shirt on one of the plaid couch cushions and strained to reach the blanket he always had over one of the armrests. He toed out of his sneakers and tossed the folded throw on the floor between them. His hands pulled her up by her armpits like a ragdoll. Long enough to nudge the blanket under her knees. “You’ll thank me later. Not as young as we used to be.” He grinned.

“You’ll thank me now.” She hummed and worked all of his bottom layers off in one quick peel to his thighs. His cock sprung out. She licked her lips at the sight and rocked back on her heels. “Of course, even this is pretty.” His grin dropped when her fingers slipped around the length and stroked, steady and slow. “Something this pretty shouldn’t have had to suffer all day.”

Damn. He rocked his head back. She’s good at this. “Longer than that.” He whispered.

“Hm?” He felt her rise up, using his cock as a handlebar. “What did you say?” Warm breath breezed over the tip. Her tongue flicked out to taste him. “Hm.” A satisfied moan. “What did you say, baby?” she repeated.

Shit. She’s using ‘baby’ now, too. He grit his teeth as the pace of her strokes picked up. He stared at the ceiling. “Been longer than a day.” The statement released from his throat with a struggle.

“How long has it been?” Another taste.

The words hiccupped out with each downward pump on his dick. He wouldn’t have been able to lie at that moment, even if he tried. “I haven’t… taken care of things… since that night we... were interrupted... by Cas.”

She stilled. “What?”

He sighed at the reprieve, still staring at the ceiling. “Lot going on, sweetheart. You were in the hospital and then when you got back home, things were… well, all that stuff you’ve been working through... I was too worried about you to jack off to naughty thoughts involving you.”

“Dean.” There was a hint of amazement in her voice.

God. I can feel her breath on my dick. Gonna cum on her face like it’s my goddamn first time if I can’t slow it down. Think about something else, anything else. Maybe I should paint the ceiling soon.

“That’s been over two weeks. Is that… normal for you?” Her fingers squeezed the base of his cock.

I can probably grab a couple gallons at the paint depot this week. He shrugged. “I’m pretty regular. Once a day. Sometimes more than that.”

“Have you been saving that all for me?”

I can hear the grin in her voice. Why the hell did I think abstaining was such a good idea again? “Did you think I was kidding earlier? When I said the next time I came it was going to be inside of you?”

Her lips pressed to the tip of his cock. “You didn’t specify where inside of me.” She moaned and without any warning sucked him into her mouth.

Dean hissed at the wet, pillowy texture of her beautiful mouth surrounding his pulsing, rock hard length. She took him in slow, humming in what sounded like gratitude to Dean’s ear. Her fingers wrapped and worked the stem. “Goddamn it, sweetheart.” He let out a low growl.

Her mouth and hands pulled back. “Dean. Look at me.” He groaned and dropped his head. Her lips were pink and full, eyes narrowed, palms resting on her thighs. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” He stroked her cheek. “Just, not as young as I used to be.”

“You’ve already said that.” She smiled and leaned into his fingers. “Neither am I. I think age provides some worthwhile experience.”

He sighed. “Oh, I agree. You’ve definitely got the experience part down.” Shit, that didn’t come out right. She didn’t seem to be paying his words much mind, with his cock in her face. “But, I let go now, don’t know how much good I’m going to be…” Her head tilted. She caught his thumb in her mouth, never breaking eye contact. One slow suck. “Damn.” Dean gulped.

“Do you want to let go?” She asked when she finished giving his digit attention.

He nodded.

“Then let go. One condition.” His cock twitched when her fingers held onto the base again. “You keep your eyes on me. And, I gotta hear that voice of yours, baby.”

He grinned as she moved closer to the tip, dripping with precum. “That’s two conditions.” He cradled the back of her head, fingers burrowing into her hair. “Lick my cock, sweetheart.”

She moaned, pressed her tongue to the tip, then swiped it over her lips. They glistened with his slick. Another long lick. “You’re going to cum so hard, aren’t you?” she asked in a low whisper.

There it is. That sexy as hell tone. “Yeah.” He grunted.

Pumping him now, using his excitement to lube him up, as she continued. “I’m gonna feel it, pulsing through this thick cock, right before you give me all of it.”

“Hm. Suck me, baby. I want to feel that nasty, sweet little mouth wrapped around me.” His fingertips dug into her scalp. She did what she was told. Lips slurped him down, mouth suctioned to his skin. The tongue swirled up at the tip before her mouth descended to swallow as much of his length as she could. Over and over. “Fuckin’ hell. That’s nice. Just like that. So fuckin’ good, baby.”

The moan in response vibrated into his cock. Her hands gripped his ass, using the leverage to push him into her mouth deeper. The position of her head and mouth maneuvered his cock like a lever. He could feel the tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged, took a second to regroup, then continued. When the tip eased down her throat the next time she swallowed in acceptance. Then again. Every damn time.

“Shit.” He groaned loud and pistoned his hips with her guidance. “Fucking your mouth feels so sweet. I can’t wait to fuck that pussy.”

More moans in agreement.

“I’m close, baby.”

Moaning.

“You ready?”

“Mm-hm.” One of Julie’s hands gripped the base.

“Fuck.” Dean moaned. His body tensed. All his energy shot straight to his cock. He felt his cum pulse through him, under her fingers. It spilled warm and thick into her mouth, wrapped tight around his tip. She moaned in surprise at the surge as it kept coming. She swallowed. Kept swallowing. His heart was ready to burst out of his chest. “Fuckin’ hell.” He shivered at the insistence of her mouth, licking him clean, as he came down from the high. “I gotta…” He crumpled to the floor in an awkward position, the waistband of his jeans clamping his thighs together.

Her hands cupped his jaw. “Okay?”

His breathing was ragged. “Yeah… yeah. I’m good. That was…” He smiled and leaned in for a kiss. He moaned at the little lick she gave him and tasted the salt and tang of his release. “Was that okay for you?”

She grinned. “God, yes. You looked so hot when you came in my mouth. I broke you for a second. It was heaven.” She laughed.

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Of course, you helped by refraining for so damn long. Don’t do that to yourself again…” She raised a brow back, “unless I tell you to.”

Damn, she’s such a cute little dominatrix. His forehead melded against hers. “Deal. Can we go to bed and maybe rest for a bit? Give me a chance to recharge?”

“Yeah.” She hopped to her feet. Dean licked his lips at the way her tits bounced in the bra. Two outstretched arms flung to his aid. “Come on, old man.”

He frowned. “You aren’t that far behind me, you know?”

She shrugged. “Not ahead of you being the key takeaway, here, Dean.”    

He waved off the assistance. “I’ve got it.” He huffed and rolled toward the couch, his back to her. The cushions supported his hands. He bent both knees under him in the still wrapped at the thighs state and catapulted up. Very smooth. I just full-out mooned her.

He worked his jeans and underwear back up his waist, but not quick enough before Julie was able to assess, “Gymnastics are impressive. You have a great ass, by the way.”

He chuckled and tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Thank you, sweetheart. You have great everythings.”

She blushed. After having gone down on and sucked him dry, she still blushed. His cock twitched. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed her a water.

“Bedroom’s this way.” He cocked his head to the small hallway. She took a sip and followed. He smiled at the fact she left her t-shirt on the couch. “If you need the bathroom,” he tapped on the door they passed to their left. A quick knob twist at the end of the hall opened the door to his bedroom. He snapped on a tiny table lamp and sat by the desk and cabinet his weapons were locked away in.

Her fingers tapped on the plastic bottle before placing it on the desk. She pulled out her phone and small wallet to rest beside it. “Pretty neat and tidy. Your army Dad teach you that?” She pointed to the sharp corners and tight sheet formation covering his bed. She pulled out the ponytail tie and dropped it on the desk, ran her fingers through the wavy mane to guide it behind her shoulders. Damn, she’s pretty. He licked his lips and watched the ends settle almost at the middle of her back.    

I really have told her a lot without telling her everything. His mind rushed back to the texts and calls they’d shared before the bad shit happened. And she remembers all of it. “It’s easy to keep things neat when you don’t have a lot.” He spread his legs, rubbing his thighs, trying to relax as the worry built. The hurried glances around the bedroom took stock of the scene. What might tip her off to the life he’d tried so hard to hide? He was always careful, at least he hoped, just in case.

Julie circled the room in her bare feet. The white bra shimmered in the barely lit space. Her hands burrowed into the shorts pockets. Shadows accentuated the curves of her bare skin. My own little Daisy Duke. He bit his lip, refraining from voicing the comment out loud. It might make her skittish and grab that forgotten t-shirt, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He watched her take in the sparse bits of the life he did put on display. There were the three tiny polaroids on the dresser, resting against a cigar box. The photos were worn, torn, tired, but had survived the long journey with him. One was his four year old self with mom wrapping him up in a tight hug. Another was of the Winchester family, John, Mary, Dean, and baby Sammy, in their front yard in Lawrence, Kansas. The last was of him and Sammy by the Impala almost two decades ago, when poltergeists, wendigos, and the occasional demonic possession had been the worst things they’d come across. Bobby had taken that picture.

There was the old 40s record player, one of the few things he’d been able to salvage from the Men of Letters bunker after the implosion. His small collection of classic rock albums housed upright in the shelf below it. An oil painting he’d found at a thrift store of a prairie field, reminding him of Kansas, hung over the simple wood headboard that he’d refinished himself. Her self directed tour stopped in front of him. Her fingers danced over the silver letter opener on the desk that did double duty as a supernatural weapon.

He tapped his lap and smiled up at her. She raised an eyebrow, an inner debate playing out on her face, then slid atop one of his thighs. An arm wrapped around the cool skin of her waist. “What do you think?” he asked.

Fingers rubbed the nape of his neck. “I think,” her brown eyes lingered on his smile, “I’d like to mess up that neatly made bed with you.”

He kissed her, nice and slow, eventually whispering, “Hop on in, little lady.”

Part 17

Series Page

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #spn fanfic #dean x ofc #spnfanficpond #spn fanfic series #supernatural fanfiction

[dramaticbanjo]

Title: For Endless Fight in Resonance

don’t ask about the title it doesnt matter okay. an undetermined amount of time has passed since virgil parted ways with megumi, but now theyre going to meet another one of the fanwalkers of @bace-jeleren

fun times ahead for only one of the characters

warning banjo doesnt have a lot of practice doing fight scenes lol

      For Virgil, planeswalking always brought with it the sensation of angels’ sighing, the dawn breaking through the ruins of a stained glass window, the glint of gold coins spread across a floor with wild abandon. A sobering element to their already clear mind.

Frost crunched underneath their feet as they appeared in an unfamiliar place. The chill of winter. Grey clouds above, pale yellow plains below. A single eye full of hatred as blood dripped in a slow, uneven rhythm to the hard dirt.

Teeth bared in a snarl, she held up a knife in one hand, white blade covered in dried blood, but the sun emblem on its pommel was still clearly visible. Her gaze focused on the same symbol on Virgil’s chest plate with an intensity that could rival a dragon’s.

      “Hello, old friend.”

      “So, this was yours…?” Her words sounded like a growl from behind her gritted teeth, and she tossed it to the side. The wrapped wound on her side did not look deep, but it must have been a painful surprise at the time.

The air grew colder, magic causing everything to grow sharper as she stepped forward towards the knight, “That means you’re that little whelp’s ally. That means you’re my enemy. And that means you made a grave mistake.”

      “That blade was quite useful to me in the past. You should treat such things with more care.”

      “More care?” She barked on a mirthless laugh, “A rich thing to say from someone soon to be dead.” Without warning, her fist swung at them, and just as instantaneously, a polished shield was in Virgil’s hand.

The sound of the impact seemed to echo around them, her blow leaving a deep dent in the metal. Virgil’s foot slid back an inch in the frozen dirt, and their free hand flew to the handle of their sword.

      “So, you are the one pursuing her?” Virgil asked calmly, quickly stepping back to put distance in between them, “What business do you have with her family?”

      “What does it matter to you?” She shot back her own question, cracking her knuckles as she sized them up, “You’re going to die here anyways.”

      “Such a statement would be more effective if I feared death.” Easily, Virgil drew their sword, “Or if I feared at all.”

At that, her expression twisted in annoyance, “Everything seems to be set on getting in my way—so it won’t work on you either? Fine.” Suddenly, she launched herself forward, fist pulled back to strike again, “Then you can die painfully!”

With a crunch of metal, the shield bent nearly in two, forcing Virgil to toss it aside, letting it dissolve into light as they pulled their cape with a now free hand, hiding the movement of their blade until it was already pointing at her body.

With a snarl, she wrenched herself to the side, the sword onto slashing her side, and she swung her hand down to grab the knight by the throat.

Her fingers closed down only on air as Virgil dived past her taller frame, rolling on the ground before springing to their feet. Their sword pointed at her, part of its blade now splattered with blood.

      “I think you’ll be dead before you can stick me enough times with that flimsy piece of metal.” She sneered, muscles bunching as she readied herself, “Nice trick with the shield. What else can you pull out of your cape?”

      “A larger blade.” Sheathing their sword, Virgil dodged to the side again as she charged, gauntlet-covered hands grasping the handle of a double headed axe as it came into existence. The heavy edge whistled in the air as they swung it, making her grunt as she barely pulled out of its way—her sleeve ripped with the grazing blow, blood soaking into the fabric, and long strands of her hair drifted down to the ground.

She glanced at the wound, then the new weapon, before smirking, and charging again. Not giving a chance for Virgil to get their balance back with the heavier weapon, she let out a flurry of punches, not caring if they connected or not as she pushed them back.

Grabbing the axe’s handle, she pulled Virgil forward, smashing their heads together, a wild grin on her face as blood trickled from cuts on her forehead. Violently shaking the axe, she threw Virgil to the side, watching them hit the ground in a cacophony of metal. The axe disappeared in her hand, but she barely gave it a glance as she stalked towards the knight, who was shakily getting up, helmet dented and distorted painfully.

A spear suddenly appeared, thrusting forward and stabbing her in the leg, making her roar, swinging her leg to savagely kick them directly in their chest, snapping the spear as their hands left it.

      “So you gave her that knife? What did it do, pull you here?”

Another sword flashed in the air, cutting her other leg, and she stomped on the offending arm.

      “What did you plan to do? Sacrifice yourself? When this fight began, did you even think you could kill me?” Raising both hands, she brought them down like a hammer onto Virgil’s head.

      “You said you weren’t afraid to die? You didn’t feel fear? Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t be here!”

Virgil managed to roll backwards, getting to their feet slowly as a grin grew on her face.

      “Go on, struggle some more.” She urged, uncaring of the wounds oozing blood on her body, “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill her. I’ll kill her damned parents.”

Not responding, Virgil created another sword, this one with a single edge on its curved blade.

      “Do you owe a debt?” Their voice was so quiet, that it might have been lost under their breathing. She made a dismissive sound, giving the new weapon a scornful glare, not bothering to give an answer as she took a step forward.

      “I am not a protector; I am not an avenger. I am a debt collector.” Virgil gripped the blade’s hilt with both hands, “I am sure there is a debt for you.”

      “Oh, shut up!” Her fist crashed into the side of Virgil’s head, flinging them to the side like a ragdoll, but not before their blade cut into her shoulder, staying there even as their hands let go. Roaring in pain and fury, she pulled it out, and then grabbed the knight’s cloak with one hand, swinging them through the air to hit the ground with a resounding sound of metal bending and breaking.

Her booted foot came down on their head. Once. Twice. Three times.

Satisfied that they had stopped moving, she gave them one last kick, “Is that it? Is that all your tricks? Pathetic.”

Bending down, she seized their helmet by the front, fingers digging furrows into the formerly burnished metal, either to pull the piece of armor off or tear it apart, whichever happened first.

However, neither did, and the helmet easily came away from the rest of it, as if there was nothing but air holding it together. She stared down at the empty space where the knight’s head should have been, her hand holding the helmet slowly clenching to crush it.

Dropping it, she reached for the arm, only for it to come away just as easily, falling apart by its straps and connectors now that there was nothing keeping it together.

The suit of armor was empty, no blood splattered on the inside from the beating she had given it, nor any trace that the armor had even been worn by anything.

Not taking her eyes away from it, she took a step back.

      “What the hell are you?”

The armor lay there in pieces, empty and silent. Quickly, the shock on her face twisted into rage, “Fine, think you can make a fool of me? This changes nothing.” She vanished, jumping to another plane, leaving the cold plain behind.

#my art #virgil #long post #fanwalker

[bcnniedrcgov]

                                      I will ask you for mercy                                      I will come to you blind                              What you’ll see is the worst me                                      Not the last of my kind     ( trigger warnings; blood / physical & emotional abuse ).

It was a constant talk around the town, the stupid dead people coming back to life and taking over peoples vision. It was comical to the woman, when after all the times she managed to see her father sitting in the corner of the bar watching her, confronting the male was never on her list of things to do, not after the amount of things she had to go through while he was alive. There was multiple occasions she ran into him while walking home late at night, but never once did she jump in fear or start crying like those around her; a simple laugh and shake of the head was enough for her, even when he touched her for the first time a few nights ago, grabbing onto her arm to stop her from walking away from him and the flashbacks of the abuse constantly rushing through her head but soon pushed away but her newly founded carefree nature.

“You can’t hit me anymore, can’t throw me around like your little ragdoll. I killed you months ago,” it was a simple hiss of words that came out of the females mouth, words that could’ve been as venomous as a snake if she said them with more anger towards the skinwalker but she simple hissed it without a simple tinge of anger lingering after they were said as she moved her body away from such a thing and towards the apartment not far from the bar and locking the door behind her, flopping her body on the couch and crashing for her usual two hours a night and doing it all over again the next day. Waking Thalia up with loud music from the radio and her singing along, acting as though the night before never happened while seeing her father, putting it off as a constant state of being drunk from the amount of liquor she would pour into her body between drinks at the bar.

Well that was until June twentieth rolled around. The day that would be stuck in the hunters memory for possible years to come.

“Ugh,” the voice echoed around her, ringing in her ears as she lifted her arm and draped it over her eyes in a matter of annoyance, the sun shining through the slightly opened curtains behind her, her body half on the couch and half leaning off towards the floor, an empty beer bottle laying on it’s side next to her slim fingers. Her head pounded to the point she felt as though anyone could visibly see the sides of her head pulsing with her heartbeat as she finally pushed herself up onto the couch, groaning at the aches that moved through her body and her eyes squinted as she attempted to finally look at everything around her, worried she wasn’t anywhere she remembered until she saw the photograph of herself and Thalia on the side table by her feet, letting out a relieved sigh at the fact she made it home the night before. “Fuck,” she whispered once again before reaching onto the floor to grab her phone by one of her shoes that seemed to be kicked off lazily before her body flopped onto the couch the night before, checking the time that flashed up.

Six forty five in the evening. Narrowing her eyes, Bonnie slowly slid off the couch and onto the chilled floor as her eyes kept focus on the numbers being shown to her, watching as the five turned into a six within a good thirty seconds. “What --- the hell?” She questioned herself, almost as though she was waiting for someone to answer her despite the quietness in the house, surrounding her like a warm blanket. Sleep hadn’t been something that Bonnie did much of after the carnival, usually only needing a quick hour nap before being at it once again, her body on a constant high. Today -- well today was different, the air felt heavier and her head pounded as she finally got the hangover of the past few days of drinking non-stop as a sense to have fun for once in her godforsaken life. Today, well today she didn’t feel giddy or energetic. Instead she felt nothing but sick and heavy.

Making her way to the bathroom was the longest journey of her life in those four minutes, her body aching and her want for a hot shower was taking over her sense as she finally opened the curtain and turned on the water, turning around and looking at herself in the mirror before wrinkling her nose at the mascara that was now matted under her now bloodshot eyes and chapped lips making an appearance as soon as she scanned her face towards her chin. Rolling her eyes, she tore her sweater off to leave her in her tank top, allowing her arms and shoulders to breathe before she soaked them in the now steaming shower. “Bonnie.” The voice was close, causing the woman to turn around quickly, unable to understand where it was coming from in the small bathroom that hadn’t been touched. Opening the door to step out into the chilled air of the rest of the apartment, Bonnie looked left then right in hopes to find it being Jamie or Thalia -- someone just begging for the bathroom before she stood under the water for a good hour to free her body of the hangover she was undergoing, but it was silence. Rolling her eyes at her own mind playing tricks on her, she closed and locked the door behind her and wiped down the mirror that was now fogged with steam and her heart jumped and an inaudible scream came from her lips as she saw the face of her father behind her, staring at her with his usual hatred eyes.

“You’re not real,” she whispered, mostly to herself as she closed her eyes tightly, knowing like other times that he would disappear into the back of her brain once again but this time was different. When she opened her eyes, there was a hand around her throat and his face inches away form her own, fear instantly taking the place of tiredness in her eyes, hands moving up to grip onto the hand that was holding onto her throat, small body being tossed to the side and onto the ground with a loud thud -- something that would’ve startled anyone else that was in the house in that time. The steam began to move at a quicker pace around them, filling Bonnie’s lungs with it’s musky texture, the hotness of the water making it’s mark as the hunter slowly pushed herself up against the doors of the shower, almost wanting to hiss from the slight burning sensation that went against her left shoulder. “You’re not fucking real!” She finally screamed, hands almost trying to grip onto the floorboards around her.

That was when the fist came down, instant taste of blood formed in the hunters mouth, her hand slowly lifting up to see the sight of red liquid soak against her fingertips from the newly made split in her lips, a gasp coming from her mouth as she finally realized she had no other choice but to get out of the bathroom while she could. “Fuck ---- you,” she hissed towards the male across from her, using her fight or flight instinct to push her body off the floor and dodge underneath one of the next swings that were directed to her and made her way towards the door, only for her so-called father to grab hold of her arm, twisting it to the right extent and push her against the body-long mirror on the back of the door. She could almost hear a satisfied chuckle coming from him behind her body as she could feel the part of her cheek slowly heating up painfully from the glass that was almost soaked with the condensed, hot steam. Sweat began to form on her body from the amount of clothing she was still wearing in the steaming bathroom that was now causing her breathing to hitch, trying to push the skinwalker off her body but failing to do so from his strength. 

“Look at yourself. Look at yourself, for fuck sakes! You’re such a fucking disgrace for a daughter, so useless and dependent. No wonder everyone god damn hates you in this place,” he hissed as he gripped onto the hair on the back of her head, yanking her head back and throwing her onto the floor once again, another backhand to her face. “Gonna fight back or cry like the lazy little bitch you are?” The words continued to echo in Bonnie’s ears, her now-learned hunter instincts going out the window as she heard her father’s insults take hold of her, slowly turning her back into the small child that was petrified to even say a sentence incorrectly to the elder before her. She wanted to beg for forgiveness, wanted to beg him to stop but the wind was knocked out of her when she felt the kick to her stomach, her small body sliding towards the shower door once again, her back lightly touching it but the burning sensation that would’ve hurt a few minutes ago was numb to her senses. If she was in the right mind, she would curse herself for telling the skinwalker about her past -- spilling her guts so easily to someone that looked like her father with the knowledge of knowing he was dead. 

“Stop ---- stop, please!” She began to finally beg, after the second hit to the gut, this time with his hand. She could feel the bruises begin to form on her stomach and the side of her face, her lip stinging from the cut he had made not long before. Tears finally fell down the woman’s face as any sense of happiness and happiness for life began to fall through her feet and into the earth, burying itself deep into it’s core as sobs filled the bathroom. Eyes closed as she begged for the male to leave, to just leave her alone to heal, to leave her alone long enough for her to gain up some strength to actually fight a dead man. Strength to live up to the name that was given to her, but instead she laid on the bathroom floor with tears streaming down her face and her small body curling up into a ball she hadn’t put her body in since her first beating, since her brother had walked in and told her that he’d keep her safe from it. 

“Go away, go away!” The hunter screamed as she heard the door opening, all the steam moving into the other areas of the house but her sobs were the thing that caused her roommate to run to the area of the house Bonnie was paralyzed in, sobs breaking through her and only causing the pains in her stomach to become worse by the second. “Go away,” she repeated like a mantra, almost unaware of the disappearance of her father and appearance of Thalia turning the shower off and kneeling in front of her, make-up stained tears clinging on her cheeks and body shaking violently on the floor of the bathroom. “Please, please just stop,” she whispered quietly before silence was heard from the hunter, other than the sobs that were still ripping through her.

#&&. ( self paragraph — bonnie dragov ). #/ i think that's all of them #this isn't as good as i hoped it would be - the ending at least. #props to flora for proof reading this omg #( skinwalkers plotdrop ). #tw: emotional abuse #tw: physical abuse #tw: blood #tw: death mention #tw: murder mention