#idk how. and its not as easy as just telling me to 'get over it.' that actually does nothing but kind of hurt...

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[bucephaly]

BTW if you haven't already please take a minute to look up what venomous snakes are local to you and familiarize yourself with them

[whiskeyswifty]

.

[qumiiiquinnquin]

i only noticed last week that i start shaking at the thought of having to talk to others

i always knew my social anxiety was bad. but i only started to notice in recent years ((especially after shutdowns in 2020)) that i almost cant talk to people - literally anyone - at all

it wasnt so bad when i was little. i could kind of socialize with kids my age. id mostly be the one to engage first because i wanted to make friends. sometimes i did it with no problems. other times i was pretty anxious when doing so. i worried a lot how others would think of me and what they would say to me or others. but i was mostly by myself and preferred it that way, even if i did get lonely at times. and if other kids engaged with me, i became very anxious and quiet, and would say very little. there was a kid at a park i went to several years ago in colorado and he came up to talk to me while i was on the swing. i felt bad because i wanted to talk, but i was pretty anxious most of the conversation. i only started to open up more near the end before he had to go

i actually had a much easier time talking to teachers throughout preschool (and daycare) up to some point in high school than talking to any of my peers

i know i always had trouble ordering food at places. i always became too nervous and was almost never loud enough for them to hear me. i shut down easily when i have to repeat myself (something im trying to work on) so relatives had to order for me. my stepdad was really understanding throughout my childhood and would always help me order when we would go to subway. family here is much less inclined to help and doesn't like it at all when i lock up when i have to order. it annoys them, and ive been told repeatedly to speak up and to get over my fear

the last place we went to, i almost immediately whipped out my phone to type out my order after i was initially responded with "what?" because she couldn't hear me, but my family was there and i know they would've gotten upset. pissed, probably. likely wouldve had my phone snatched from me. i always try to speak up so they can hear me and i have to just say what i want without thinking about it to avoid clamming up. but i still am shaking and my face turns red because of embarrassment

especially since shutdowns though, talking to people feels impossible. i dont talk to anyone except friends, but even then we run out of things to say and we sit there in silence. school makes you socialize with others a lot, but id almost never speak unless it was a requirement and the teacher would know when someone wasn't speaking, or if i felt too pressured to speak. most times i would either observe or dissociate. ive only gone out twice to shop for myself since shutdowns; one of the times i stuttered extremely bad and came very close to crying out of embarrassment right there at checkout, the other i could barely bring myself to talk and managed to only get half of a "thank you" out (it sounded like an annoyed mumble when i wasnt annoyed at all. i still feel bad about that)

ive turned around from any place that i start to go to, like food places, because im too anxious to go in and especially terrified out of my mind to make an order. im glad my sibling has become more understanding, they've been asking what i want and then ordering it for me while i pay (i feel bad to be very honest). its with my sibling that i have more confidence, but im still too scared to say anything

and this anxiety is carrying over to how i interact with people on social media! i used to not be so afraid to talk to people. but in the past bit over a year replying to any responses i get has become daunting. ive had to stop talking to friends for several days because im busy or mental health shit, but coming back and sending them anything back immediately feels scary, even if i know them well and they know me well. and i end up making the last time we talked extend to several more days. sometimes weeks... sometimes...months. im not trying to ghost people. and i do not like that sending a message back to anyone makes me shake uncontrollably and sweat like i just ran a 10k at full speed without stopping (idfk)

its bothering me lots especially now in college. social interaction is required for certain assignments and participation. but all i can do is sit there, shaking, heart pounding, unable to talk to anybody. we are all adults there, so we are expected to act as such. my extreme social anxiety doesn't fly there and ill likely be told one day that im acting like a child or i need to get used to talking to people or something to that effect

idk how to end this off

[kurthorton-moving]

I wish tumblr was. Easier

[mothranting]

I hate never knowing whats going on to be quite honest. I hate never being told anything.

[straykats]

actually while im exhausted im gonna rant 🤩

[ryn-city]

love it being implied that I shouldn't have anxiety because I'm an adult lol

[snekdood]

i just feel like if you cant debate someone w/o insulting them then you're kinda just using it as an outlet for all of your asshole-ness

[clockmax]

! STICKY

>> jjk kink hc's

FT!  gojo, geto, nanami, toji

! warnings 18+CONTENT, MDNI. , not proofread, fem reader, pure filth, breeding kink, mating press, overstimulation, switch!gojo(?), fingering, p in v, raw sex(wrap it b4 u tap it tho!), riding, oral, praise, oral

~ A/N: re-uploading this from my old blog LOL idk requests r open and make sure to take care of urself ily ཐི♡ཋྀ  likes + reblogs + comments r always appreciated!

𓇼 NANAMI

I think as a fandom we all agree Nanami is a family man. He’s got a steady and stable relationship with you, so who better to have his kids then you?

I like to think he got baby fever after he saw you holding your niece for the first time ,just falling in love with how sweetly you spoke to the baby, how gentle you looked, like a natural mother.

It for sure got his cock in a stir.

Thoughts of you round with his kid filled his head, thinking of you taking care of the little bundle of joy almost had him bend you over in the nearest room.

Guaranteed for the next few weeks(at least) he’d have you bent over, pumping you full of his cum. He’d hold your legs close to your ears, putting you in a mating press while his cock pumps you full.

Nanami would just keep stuffing you full over and over again, overstimulating himself just to get you pregnant. Fucking you until you’re nearly cross-eyed from just how many orgasms he;s pulled from your sore, stuffed pussy.

Nanami who would keep fucking you sore every night until he sees  a positive pregnancy test. And even with that, he’d fuck another one into you as soon as he can <3

𓇼 GOJO

Whether he’s being overstimulated, or overstimulating you, this man loves it.(he’s a whore.)

With you, he loves seeing the fucked out expression on your face and he pulls out your nth orgasm, watching how you writhe and shudder as his fingers delicately work you open. Or when he’s fucking you raw with his cock, mushroomy tip hitting that spongy spots that makes your toes curl. He makes it his goal to cum at least 3 times before he even thinks about coming himself.

But it also goes the same way when you overstimulate him. Could be from riding him, sucking him off, or just even a simple handjob. I like to believe he’s got a sensitive tip, so it’s  easy to overstimulate him. And for a fact, he loves it.

He’s a whimpering, moaner, and groaner 4 sure. So you’ll know he’s come enough time when he starts getting more vocal than he already is. Or when his hips rut into your mouth or hand, or  just straight up holding your hips while he ruts up into you. 

He’ll keep both of you overstimulated until you give out, or he’s practically ‘shooting blanks’

𓇼GETO

Geto in my heart will forever be a soft lover. He could fuck rough, sure, but i like to think a majority of the time he treats you very sweetly(unless you’ve been a brat but thats a diff talk)

He just loves to fuck you, even if he’s fucked you so dumbed that its gone in one ear and out the other. Something about the sparkle in your eyes when he coos sweet words at you just gets him going even more.

“Open your legs, baby, ‘wanna see that pretty pussy.” He’d coax at you, leaving wet, open kisses along your thighs. 

“That’s it, good girl, always listening to me.” Geto praised. He’d always take his time with his fingers, mouth, or cock. 

He’d talk you through it, praising how well you’re doing, how pretty you look with that look of ecstasy on your face. He’s just smitten with you, and it will always show when hes got you in his hands.

𓇼 TOJI

Toji’s a sucker for oral. I will not be fought on this

He seems like he would enjoy receiving oral and giving it just as equally. But when i tell you he’d fuck your mouth, i mean it.

He’s the type to hold your hair in a pigtail, gliding your mouth along his cock; just the way he likes it. His ears suck up all the lovely gasps and gags you make, the small moans and whimpers. He’d love watching as you try to circle your clit and suck him off at the same time, watching as you try to find something to rub your dripping wet pussy against.

When he’s giving oral, he might just be enjoying it more than you. He’d have a wole feast down there, spelling his name on your clit, sucking your juices; there's really no stopping him and his meal. 

He just can’t get enough of the way your thighs squeeze around his head, or how your hands pull at his hair, bumping your clit up against his nose.

He thinks you look equally as pretty on your knees between his manspread, face buried in his happy trail as you suck at his cock.

Suguru Geto who loves just how shy you get whenever her teases or flirts with you. Whether it be the gentle grab of your ass in that skirt, or the way he whispers filthy words into your ears even if there's people around.

Suguru Geto who makes sure to kiss your neck and leave hickies, provoking those sweet, sweet whines and begs for him that fall from your pretty lips. 

Suguru Geto who buries himself between your thighs, arms locked around the fat of your thigs, tongue working onto your clit as if it was his last meal. His eyes stay on your face the entire time, pulling his mouth away if you dare to look away from him.

“Look at me baby, wanna see that pretty face when you cum.”

Suguru Geto who can say the most filthy things about you with a straight face, with the taste of your juices on his lips after making you cum 3 times. He loves the look of pure euphoria on your half lidded eyes.

Suguru Geto who still teases you when he stuffs your cunt full of his thick cock. It’s sinful with his hands roam around your body, leaving marks on your hips, and playing around with your tits. His eyes watch those lustful expressions on your face as his dick slides in and out of you, hitting all those sweet spots from the curve of his cock.

Suguru Geto who has you keep your eyes on him as he drills your overstimulated pussy, pelvis bumping on your swollen clit. 

“That's it, good girl. Looking so pretty taking this cock, cunt’s practically talking to me.”  He’d whisper in your ear, gently kissing the trace of your jawline, feeling just how hot your face was.

Suguru Geto who loves the fucked out look on your face as he makes you cum for the nth time. Hazel eyes watching how your eyes practically roll to the back of your head, body trying to squirm away as you squirt on him again.

Suguru Geto who cums in you over and over again, the lewd look on your face nearly imprinted in his mind. He knows just how much you love feeling the warm, hot, sticky ropes of cum paint your gummy walls.

“Spread your legs baby, that's it.. Wider. Good girl.” 

Suguru Geto who loves watching the cum drip from your cunt, mixed in with your juices. Sometimes he’ll go back to eat you out after he’s came inside you.

Suguru Geto who loves to tease you, get you all flustered and worked up just to fuck you dumb minutes later.

[mariasont]

Spoiled - A.H

a/n: felt feral writing this hope y'all enjoy it as much as i did

think im ovulating or something YALL IDK

anyhow happy reading let me know what yall think 🤭

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

warnings: 18+ MDNI, phone sex!, sex toy!, fem solo masturbation, penelope being a little instigator lmao, dirty talk, soft dom!hotch, established relationship, honestly a little bit of angst whoops, reader is slightly dramatic like hotch has been gone for prob 5 hours STAND UP!

wc: 3.3k

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her comment earned her the full government name, igniting a burst of laughter that you attempt to smother behind your hand. Sinking deeper into the couch, you dismiss the absurdity with a shake of your head. You even find yourself glancing over your shoulder even though you know no one is home.

"You know, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but trust me, that's the least of our worries in this relationship."

"Look, whatever floats your love boat or rocks your bed frame is strictly your business," she comments as if that were the most casual thing to say.

You giggle, a warmth spreading through you as you tread across the kitchen tiles, the phone pressed against your ear. 

"Oh my god, Pen," you let out a laugh, feeling a soft crimson spread across your cheeks, while your thighs swell with the thoughts of your doting boyfriend. "No, no, like I said we're more than okay in that department. It just gets, well, lonely when he's away."

Your hand curls around the neck of your favorite bottle of red, easing the cork free with a satisfying pop. The liquid swirls into the glass, a little more than probably necessary, as the gentle hiss of water beginning to simmer breaks through the kitchen. 

"You, my dear, are a saint among mortals."

"Well, he makes it easy," you shrug, pouring the rice into the bubbling pot, a cloud of steam rising to paint the windows.

"Honestly, I don't know how you manage. I'd be itching for it, especially if it's as good as you say," Penelope admits with a dramatic sigh.

You laugh, propping the phone against the backsplash, its speaker projecting the conversation into the room. Aaron stands just out of sight, unnoticed, taking in your every syllable.

"When he gets back, trust me, every second apart seems like a small price to pay."

"Ever thought about getting yourself a toy? You know, for those long nights?" Penelope hints not (at all) so slyly. 

The wine almost sprays from your mouth as you stifle a surprised splutter. Aaron, still unseen, raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, um, no, I haven't really considered... a toy," you murmur, cheeks burning. You clear your throat, pretending to be engrossed in the simmering pot. "Aaron might have an opinion on that, I guess."

Your attempt at nonchalance was failing, you definitely knew that.

Aaron rested casually against the door frame, a soft smile touching his lips at the sound of your bashful laughter. He'd always had a soft spot for the way your cheeks bloom with color--a sight he wasn't afraid to go great lengths to witness. The idea of a toy seemed to pique his curiosity, drawing a pensive frown as his attention stayed fixed on you for a moment longer.

He slips away silently, his steps carrying him to the front door as you continue your conversation with Penelope.

The call disconnects with a soft click, and you're left in the quiet of the kitchen, unwittingly promising to keep Penelope updated. Turning back to the stove, you stir the sauce with a distracted hand, your lips downturned. Aaron should have been home by now.

The dining table is set, candles flickering, their glow falling on the chair he's yet to fill. You let out a sigh, stealing another look at the ticking clock. The food is ready, but with each passing minute, it grows cooler, just the unfamiliar feeling of disappointment settling in your chest. 

The audible twist of the key catches your attention, and you can't help but glance over your shoulder. Aaron walks in, his lips curving into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hi, my gorgeous girl," he greets, his voice a familiar sound that kindles a familiar flutter into your heart.

He places his briefcase down, the sound muted, and as he approaches, his lips brush a tender kiss against your temple. The annoyance that had been bubbling inside you melts away with his touch. Damn him.

You turn to him, a sheepish "Hi" fluttering out, your cheeks tinged with heat. It's a feeling that's always fresh, the way he still makes you feel like you're back in high school, hearts doodled in the margins of your notebook.

Aaron settles into his chair, the soft scrape of wood against the tile following his movements.

"Sorry 'M late," he offers, his tone warm, appreciative. "Everything looks and smells wonderful, honey. Thank you."

His fingers gently sweep a loose strand of hair from your face, his smile softening you, disarming you. He's so beautiful.

"You're welcome," you reply, your cheeks growing warmer with each word. "And, um, I hope it's okay. It might be a bit cold. I thought...I guess I assumed you'd be home sooner."

You voice trails off, leaving behind a trail of embarrassed concern, wondering if perhaps you'd somehow overstepped. 

Aaron looks at you, his eyes turning kind as he discerns the unease on your face.

"I'm sorry, baby, got held up with a little errand." He bites into the food, and a gratified hum indicates his approval. "This is delicious."

You find yourself beaming at the praise. He had a talent for that--praising you, almost as if he'd made it his life mission. This was a first for you in a relationship, and it's exactly why the late nights and time spent alone didn't weigh so heavily. 

After dinner, you're rinsing off the plates when Aaron's hands draw you close, his hands claiming your waist, the heat of his palms radiating through the fabric of your shirt. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Let me help with that. You're spoiling me," he insists, his words spoken into your damp skin.

You lean back into his embrace, his chest flush against your back.

"I like taking care of you," you admit, heart skipping a beat under the weight of his gaze, the softness in his eyes dissolving your concentration on the task at hand. 

A deep, affectionate groan escapes Aaron as he pulls you even closer. But all good things come to an end, and the ringing of his phone seems like an icy intrusion, like a sudden draft into the kitchen.

"Hotchner," he answers, and even though the word leaves his lips, his fingers gently sketch patterns across your hip. 

You feel your heart sink. When he hangs up, his eyes lock with yours, brimming with an apology he doesn't voice. It's unnecessary, you already know.

"A case?" You hate how small your voice sounds, dipped in an understanding you wish you didn't have.

He nods, a simple stupid gesture that sends a lump of disappointment soaring up your throat, which you desperately try to swallow down. 

"Okay... just, be careful, okay? I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you, angel. Be good for me."

There's a hollowness in the house that follows you through each room. You were well aware of Aaron's demanding job when you started dating--the unpredictable schedule, the sudden departures, the cases that required his immediate attention. Still, this awareness did nothing to soften to sting of his absence. At all. 

You found yourself wandering aimlessly, picking up a book only to set it down unread, starting a movie but not really watching. Eventually, you ended up in the bedroom, his bedroom, where the subtle scent of his cologne lingers. It's both comforting and heart-wrenching. God, you felt like you were being so dramatic.

You climb into the bed, the sheets cool against your skin, too big and empty without him. Your eyes darts to the phone resting on the nightstand. You've always been careful not to disturb him while he's working, but tonight felt different.

With a trembling hand, you pick up the phone, your thumb hovering indecisively over the screen. Reluctantly, you returned it to its place. There was no point in bothering him.

A sudden draft sent a shiver up your spine, reminding you of the blanket Hotch had bought for you a couple months ago. You sighed, rising from the bed and moving to the closet.

But your eyes skipped over the blanket, instead fixating on a shiny pink bag tucked away in a secluded corner. Compelled by a spike of curiosity, you grabbed the bag and pulled it open. Your eyes widened, cheeks burning with a sudden flush as you placed it on the bed. How long had this been hiding here? And the timing--just after your conversation with Penelope--felt almost too uncanny. 

You went back to your phone.

Hi

The message was simple. You hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

Almost immediately, your phone vibrated--Aaron's name illuminated the screen. You answer, and his voice was there, infused with immediate concern.

"Hi honey. You okay?" His question was straightforward, cutting through the noise.

You nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see you. Shifting on the bed, you said softly, "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I didn't mean to bother you. Is it a bad time?"

His response is quick. "You could never bother me."

A blush flares on your cheeks, and a smile instinctively forms. You fidget on the bed, the sheets sighing with your movements, sounds that don't escape Aaron's attentive detection.

"Can't seem to find the right spot without me there, huh?"

"I can't seem to do a lot of things without you here," you grumble under your breath, intended more for yourself than for him. The bed emits a soft creak as you turn again, your breath hitching in a pout that he can almost see through the phone. "Aaron, I found something in the closet..."

You lost your words, fingertips tracing the toy's edge, as you fumbled with the strings of your shorts.

"Hmm? Care to enlighten me."

"You know."

You weren't in the mood for his teasing, because you knew he knew. You could sense his smugness, his voice dripping into that familiar, velvety register that prompted your lips to purse.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Once again, you found yourself stirring against the linen, nibbling on your lip as a wave of exasperation washed over you, your eyes rolling into their sockets.

"Where are you?"

"Just got to my hotel room." You could hear the subtle movements in the background, accompanied by the soft groans of the mattress under his weight. "What did you find in the closet that was so urgent you needed to text me in the middle of my case?"

Your face was warm. "You said it wasn't a bother."

"And I meant it, now spell it out for me."

Your hands cautiously pushed over the toy, examining its buttons and sides. Subconsciously, your tongue swept over your top teeth. You lowered your voice as though someone else might overhear.

"The toy...is it for me? I mean, I would hope so. If not, well, we'd have a rather awkward issue."

"Yes, it's for you, baby."

You stifled a grin. How could he have known? That profiling business was really no joke.

"Why?"

His muffled chuckle filtered through, and you could almost see the flash of his pearly whites. You really missed him, so much so that you were conjuring vision of his mouth of his on places that should not be said aloud. 

"I just want to make sure my best girl is taken care of when I'm not home." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

You were deep in your fantasy now, your free hand sliding down your shorts as you envisioned him propped against the headboard of his hotel bed, tie hanging loosely, hair tousled just so.

"I'm always taken care of by you, Aaron," you said quietly.

You didn't know how to go about this, whatever this even was. You were treading into unknown territory; never having had phone sex with Aaron--or anyone for that matter.  It was a far cry from the occasional suggestive text.

"That's right." His voice flowed like honey in your ear, causing a shiver as your finger skimmed over your underwear, your breathing momentarily faltering. "You're going to be well taken care of for the rest of your life, yeah?"

"Yeah."

You could hardly breathe, squirming against your own touch, glancing over at the toy that sat beside your hip.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your patience. You're a good girl, honey. Far too good for me." You weren't. It was the other way around; you didn't deserve him. You told yourself that every day. "I know you get lonely, and I know it's something you'd never admit to."

"Aaron..."

He didn't let you finish. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing right now?"

Your actions came to an abrupt standstill, thumb suspended above your clothed clit. You entertained the thought that this FBI gig might have been a front for a psychic, maybe one of those fortune teller types.

You were mumbling into your sleeve, a private conversation with the threads. "Just...um, well it's hardly worth mentioning, honestly."

Wow you're sure you fooled him.

"I'm not fond of dishonesty." The low rumble of his voice sent a tremor through your core. "I'm giving you a final chance. Tell me what you're doing, sweetheart."

A hard swallow passed your throat, your thumb rubbing idle circles into the band of flesh on your hip. 

"Well, I, uh, was touching myself." The words felt as awkward as they sounded, an internal wince accompanying each syllable at how unsexy you were speaking.

"Where, sweetheart?"

You exhaled sharply at the question, heavy with exasperation at his insistence on drawing this out. But the slickness between your legs was undeniable. Your hand slid back to the delicate skin between your thighs.

"Aaron, please," you breathed out so faintly it was almost inaudible.

He was playing a cruel game, and he knew it. You hardly cussed let alone talk about your lady parts so openly.

"I hope I've never given you a reason to feel judged, honey." There was a sweetness in his voice that masked his darker intentions. "Just tell me where. I want to help."

Your tongue flicked nervously across your lip, your finger dipping into the valley of your folds as you mulled over his offer. You were wet, far more than you had anticipated, practically coating your thighs in the process.

"No, 'course not," you said softly, biting back a sigh as your thumb worked slowly against your inflamed clit. "It's just, you're so far, Aaron."

"Why do you think I got you that toy?" Your gaze darted to the pink thing, resting against your hip. "I want you to use it. I'll walk you through it, just like I would in person."

You could melt. You could liquefy into nothingness on the spot. Your fingers pressed more urgently against yourself, a deep-seated wish for him to be here surfacing, knowing all the while it was a baseless hope.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"There you go, that's my girl."

You couldn't hold back the whimper that fell from your lips as you arched against the bed, fingers diving into your cunt.

"My needy girl," he repeated, his laughter resonating with a patronizing tone that oddly egged you on. "Alright, can you pick up the toy for me?"

You wedged the phone snugly between your shoulder and ear, your hand closing around the pink, curved object, scrutinizing its every detail with careful eyes.

"Okay."

It was big, not as big as Aaron, but its dimensions were nonetheless imposing. You felt your chest heave in anticipation, waiting for his instructions.

His silence was stretching your patience thin. You turned it on, and it came to life, watching as it vibrated, the soft buzz permeating the space. You let it trail over your stomach, fabric gathering as your shirt rode up. Nearing your clit, you braced, taking in a quick breath.

But that breath was released in a strangled moan as you pushed the toy firmly into your sopping hole, legs spreading expansively as a taut sensation gripped your center.

"Did I say you could use it already?" he questioned, his tongue clicking in disapproval as you strained against the device, the second prong vibrations coursing against your nub, your whole-body jerking in response.

"N-No, 'M sorry," you panted, your focus narrowing as you pushed to toy in and out, your lips rounding into an 'o'. "It feels really good, Aar."

"I'm sure it does, baby," he teased, his voice carrying a certainty that your own lacked. "Let me hear you fuck yourself with it.

You loved hearing him curse, it was rare, and usually reserved for intimate moments like this. It fueled your actions, your wrist quickening, driving the device deeper, your stomach twisting in tight knots, a loud moan escaping unrestrained, suddenly you were thankful for the distance between Aaron's house and the next.

It felt so good, and yet somehow still not comparable to how it was with Aaron. Weren't you spoiled?

"Miss you so much," you slurred, your movements stuttering as the device worked your body in ways you didn't know were possible.

"Miss you too, angel. You're doing so good."

"Can you, ah, come home, p-please?"

You weren't even sure of what you were saying, all your thoughts on chasing your high and pretending the toy was Aaron's cock. Thinking about how he'd fill you up right now, how he'd press you to the mattress, how his body would cover yours.

"Your present isn't enough?" His tone was taunting, your eyes welling with tears, clouding your vision as your hips bucked against the toy. "That's a shame, sweetheart, think maybe you've been a little spoiled. You can't have my cock all the time."

You were completely dazed, his sentences barely making their way through the fog as you'd like them to. You were crying, you think, hot and relentless tears carving a path down your face as you fucked yourself harder against the toy.

The noises coming from your pussy were obscene, soaked and squishing as you tried to respond to Aaron, but nothing but small hiccups were escaping your mouth.

"It's okay, baby, I know. You're doing so good for me. I can hear it."

Your cheeks and ears flared with a heat that spelled out your shame, but it was the least of your concerns. Your walls tightened against the device, the pressure on your clit suddenly all too much and not enough at the same time. Gasping for air, your breaths came out in uneven bursts. When you tried to call out Aaron's name, it emerged as nothing more than a choked sob.

"C-Can I? Please, need to so bad." You weren't entirely convinced you were speaking English, but Aaron understood. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

That was all you needed. Your cunt contracted again before vaulting over the edge, nearly losing consciousness in the process, a string of moans and half-said words pouring out of your lips.

You could hear the sound of his voice, but the words were just out of reach, not fully making sense. You felt your body twitch, and you blinked deliberately, once, twice, three times, in an effort to reconnect your body to your mind.

"You're so good, baby. So good. Miss you so much."

You pulled the toy, now soaked, from yourself, cringing at the lewd sound as you laid it beside you, making a mental note to wash the sheets later. Although if Aaron had his way that wouldn't happen.

"I miss you." You hated the way your voice betrayed ever emotion you had.

"Need you to go pee for me, sweetheart."

He sounded so soft and tired, but somehow still present. You let out a soft snicker as you curled onto your side. 

"Can't move my legs," you mumbled, the sound muffled by the way your cheek was squished into the pillow. "Need you to come carry me."

His laugh was something you wished you could bottle up. "Spoiled."

"And who's to blame for that?" You were ready for his witty retort, but it was cut short by the sudden flash of your phone. You squinted at the caller ID. "Sorry, Penelope is calling me, can I call you back in a second?"

"Course, honey. Thank her for the idea, yeah?" Your mouth fell open as you scrambled for the right words. Of course he had heard. "Also, I plan on spending a few solid hours fucking you when I get home, so I suggest you get some rest."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[quarterlifekitty]

Someone in the notes of my post abt Johnny with a piss kink commented about Simon and it took all of like 5 seconds for me to think of what kind of piss kink he’d have lol

cw: piss, coercion kinda (more like under negotiated kink idk)

Simon is a grabber. It checks out as a man who has a strong grip and doesn’t always fancy talking things out. He’s always got a firm hand somewhere on you. Your couch cuddling is not casual. Like this dude has got a hold on you. He’s like a mad dog— he just sinks his teeth into soft things and doesn’t let go.

And he likes to surprise you. It’s easy for him, and so funny when you jump at his presence or yelp like you’re an animal that just got its tail stepped on. And you know what? Getting the drop on you gets him kinda hard. It makes him feel like he’s got such total control.

You know by now that walking by Simon while he’s sitting somewhere while you’re at home is dangerous. He’s like a viper. You’ll be on your way and he’ll snatch you so you come falling into his lap.

Then he’ll straddle you on his thigh with an arm around your waist that that makes it so you can’t squirm away despite all your pathetic efforts. His other hand inevitably slithers beneath your waistband to palm and paw at your cunt mercilessly. He just gets into this kind of mood where he wants to make you boneless and fucked stupid out of nowhere— doesn’t even need to use his cock to do it, that’s how expertly he knows your body. You often whine at him to let you up, that you have shit to do, and he’ll tell you all that can wait. Until you pull out an excuse he hasn’t heard before.

“Simon— c’mon, I really need to pee, please—“

… He laughs.

“S’funny, that’s all. That you really think I give a shit about that, luv. Nah, you’re stayin’ right ‘ere, where I can tend to you.”

The truth is that Simon had never really thought about you pissing in that way before that moment. But he’s the kinda guy who knows what he wants, and he wants whatever the fuck you’ll give him. Spit, cum, tears, blood, piss— he’ll take any of it. It’s his libation. Your body is the center of his own personal cult. Who are you to deny a man his own religion?

He’ll fuss over you, petting too quick and hard at your clit, squeezing around your waist too tight, until you’re practically in tears because you just can’t hold it— and you let go. He almost cums untouched from how your warmth and wetness spreads over his thigh. You’re panting, and he’s comforting you, telling you how fucking good that was while you’re sobbing at the overstimulation and the shame, telling him you’re sorry even though he made you do it.

“S’okay, pretty bird— since when ‘ave I ever made you do something that didn’t turn me the fuck on, huh? God you fucking soaked me—“

[entitled-fangirl]

Are you scared of me, Princess?

Jasper Hale x human!reader

Summary: The reader sees the scars on Jasper's arms, prompting him to tell her the truth.

Words: 1,646

Warnings: talk of murder, vampire stuff idk, scars, cursing

Author's note: God this is angsty. Someone get 8th-grade me in here right now because this is what she thought she was reading at her age.

Masterlist &lt;3

.......................................................

Jasper sat in the bed placed in his room, his mate resting her back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist and his face found its way into her hair. Her hands were placed on top of his on her waist, relishing in the feeling of comfort he gave her.

They were a strange pair, the two. The bloodthirsty vampire fighting his instincts to feed and the helpless human girl who wouldn’t be able to fight him if she tried. 

But she trusted him with her whole heart. It had been hard at first. She had to marinate in the knowledge of the existence of vampires, and he suffered the constant smell of her sweet scent, calling out to him every second.

It was so hard for him, even on a good day. Her smell of her blood always drew him in. 

The only thing holding him back from draining her was the feeling he knew he wouldn’t fight the minute her body became lifeless: dread.

But now, they laid in each other’s arms in complete trust. 

Her hand wandered up his forearm, stopping at the unevenness of his skin. She looked down, pulling his sleeve up briefly.

Bite marks and scratches laid all up and down his forearm. She didn’t want to know how far up his arm it went, thankful for the sleeve.

She felt him shift. He felt uncomfortable. Scared of her reaction. But above all else, he cared for her. She could practically feel his gift poking at her emotions, intertwining them with his. A sense of calmness fell over the two of them before words could form.

Her hand still laid against his arm gently, her thumb brushing one of the bites to comfort him in her own way.

She felt his head move away from hers, leaning back against the bed frame. She used this opportunity to turn in his grip, now facing him. Once there, she pulled his arm into her lap, her eyes inspecting the scars in front of her. 

He simply watched. He couldn’t hide them, and he would never lie. Not to her. So, he simply sat there to let her ask him or draw her own conclusions.

She finally looked up, her eyes locking on his. She’s thankful of his gift, because otherwise, she may have been teary-eyed. “T….Tell me, Jasper?”

His eyes softened. God, she was so good to him. So perfect. So innocent and pure. Everything he knew he wasn’t.

Her blood would be so easy to take. The feeling of adrenaline would be worth the-

“It’s… a long story, Princess. I don’t think you wanna hear it.”

She was visibly hurt by his answer, her hand retreating from his. “Oh. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry… I just… just thought…”

He chuckles to himself, teasing her, “Thought what, Princess? You really wanna know?”

She nods, her eyes glossy, holding an unreadable expression.

He sighs. He wanted to hold off from telling her this. That was his plan. But now, she had ruined the perfect plan in his head. Not that he could be mad at her. His heart couldn’t do that.

He pulls his sleeve up his other arm, showing her the scarring. “D’you know much about the Civil War, Darlin’?”

She nods, her eyes never leaving his forearm. 

He smiles, “Good girl. Knew you would.” He took a deep breath, not that he needed to, but it allowed him to collect himself and decide what to say. “I was turned during the Civil War. A woman named Maria convinced me to help her train a vampire army. I was foolish and naive. I thought she was doing the right thing.”

He looked up at her to gauge her reaction. She simply stared at the scars, her head low in thought. He took this as a sign to continue.

“You know.. I was, uh, a major, in the war?”

Her head perked up at that, her eyes meeting his. “A..a major?”

He smirked, “Yeah. Major Jasper Whitlock.” As he said so, she felt a wave of pride come from his body. She didn’t need Jasper’s gifts to sense it, for it had come so plain. 

He continued, “I trained them myself. Her army, I mean. I know you don’t know much about us, but newborn vampires are more dangerous. More deadly. They’re stronger than most.” As he said this, she could feel his tone becoming sharper. 

“Stronger than Emmett?”

He nods, “Yes, Princess. Much stronger. You stay away from a newborn.” It had meant to be advice, but it came out a demand. “They’re more deadly than you can imagine. I’ve watched them do…” his eyes look off in thought, “…unspeakable things…”

A small silence overtakes them before she breaks it. “And you trained them?”

His eyes quickly move back to hers, the amber color glowing, “Yes, ma’am.”

“How?”

“Not easily. They don’t take too well, as you can see,” he said, his head motioning forward at his arms. “I punished them, too. Killed them when they got out of hand or weren’t what we needed.”

He feared to look up at her, but he couldn’t resist. Her gaze was on the window. He didn’t often wish for a gift different than his, but at this moment, he wished he could read her mind. See what was going on in that lovely little human brain of hers. But he couldn’t. He sensed she wasn’t distressed. He had to see her eyes to be sure. Not for his gift’s sake, but for his own. His hand outstretched to grab her jaw gently, pulling it towards his own. “Are you scared of me?”

Her eyes catch his, their faces a foot apart. “…Sh…should I be, Jasper?”

He considers her question quickly with a nod, his voice low. “Really fucking scared.”

She blinks at his wording, her brain struggling to comprehend everything in front of her. 

He wanted to joke, take the dark mood away, but he knew this was serious. “I killed before this,” he gestured to himself, “I killed during this…. I’ll probably have to kill sometime after this. I’ve murdered many with no remorse, their bodies laying at my feet. Innocent lives and murders, too. I overpowered the strongest vampires with ease, ending them mercilessly. My heart holds no mercy. So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared of me?”

She wasn’t sure what to think. She couldn’t put it into words. Was she scared? She supposed so. Any sane person would be. But she trusted him. She trusted him. She trusted him. “You… You won’t hurt me, Jasper.”

He wanted to laugh at her sweet response. How naive of his little lamb. She said it so sure of herself. Of him. She didn’t know of the constant, deep thirst of blood he fought back every time their eyes met. She didn’t know of the pain he felt when she parted from him. She didn’t know of the horrors he had endured. And most importantly, she would never understand the terrors he had caused.

“You don’t know that, Princess.”

She took a quick breath in at his response. Every reasonable thought she ever had was gone. She should run. She should hide. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Her body remained here, on the vampire’s bed, his hand gripping her jaw while staring at her like she was prey. Every reasonable thought was gone.

She reached her hand up to place on top of his on her jaw, flinching at the cold feeling of his skin on hers. “You won’t, Jasper.” She began to even sound confident.

He smiled at her, his sharp teeth peeking out. This girl believes in him that much. What a stupid girl. Too trusting. Too hopeful. Too pretty. Too good. Too perfect. He could absolutely ruin her. But he wouldn’t. “C’mon, Princess. Admit you’re a little afraid.” He needed to hear her say it.

Her hand gripped his, pushing it down her jaw lightly until it rested over her throat. His hand now wrapped around her neck, her hand lightly resting on his. 

He was speechless at her touches. Her movements. Her willingness. Her loyalty to him. His eyes stare at his own hand, admiring the view in front of him. Her hopeful eyes staring into his while his hand rested above her only source of oxygen. It was intimate. It was scary. It was perfect. She was perfect. 

His thumb brushed her throat lightly, feeling her heartbeat quicken at his touch. He could practically feel the blood running through her veins. And she trusted him still. 

They sat there in silence for a while, simply admiring the other. 

She was perfect. Too innocent for her own good, but so loyal and willing for him. Her pretty face was the perfect view for him. He could stare at it until the end of his days. And she trusted him with her life. 

She trusted him with the one thing his body thirst to destroy. And he loved her all the more for it.

He was strong. Resilient. An open book for her to read at her leisure. Protective was a word she was familiar with. She felt like his arms were the only thing she needed to live in the world. She trusted him with her life.

His other arm moved up her body, his hand getting lost in the hair on the back of her head. He pushes her forward, capturing her lips in his. 

The hand on her neck stayed. But it never twitched. 

They pulled away from each other to let her catch her breath. Their faces were close as they tried to think of the right words to say.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. She wasn’t afraid of him. 

................................................................

[dwaekkicidal]

Hey! Idk if anyone has asked this before, but can you write skz with big chested!fem reader? I absolutely love your work!!

ok so i have a request in the works including big tiddy gf with Han so you can read that for a fic blatantly including it lol (it should be out in a few days) but for now I'll write you little drabble about them :3 this is super self indulgent so thank you 😼& i'm happy you enjoy my stuff :') <3

OT8 x Big Chested fem!Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~700

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader with big boobies: no other body type is described, suggestive but also like 1 mention of nsfw

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Certified Titty Sucker(s)™

the ones you can shut up by literally flashing him. but its only gonna make him drop to his knees in front of you so he can beg you to let him touch ("Let me at 'em" -Han)

the picture i had in mind was one of them (hyunjin specifically lol) just like laying on top of you with a nipple in his mouth and his other hand grabbing as much of the other boob as he can. maybe he's just come home after a long day and needs the comfort of his titties in his mouth. or maybe he's still inside of you, cockwarming after you both came, and he's calming himself down by mindlessly sucking one of your nipples

Hyunjin & Han (honorable mentions: Chris and Lix)

Biggest Babies

probably the kind to casually lay on them like theyre pillows the most out of all the boys. i could see him coming home from having a bad day and asking you to cuddle with him, so he lays you flat on your back and rests his cheek against your boobs as he looks up at you and rants about his day.

The ones who will literally pout and get teary-eyed if you ban them from your boobs for any amount of time. Maybe they marked you up when you told them not to or they just did something to make you mad so you put them in "Boob Time Out." The one's the most hurt about it and will cry and beg and grovel for you to take it back.

Hyunjin, Seungmin, Han, Changbin

Handsy Ones

would be the type to casually grope you randomly throughout the day. i specifically picture these guys as being the type of boyfriend who will sit on the bed while you get changed nearby, and the second your shirt and/or bra is off he just drags you close to him and shoves his face between your boobs. not like sexually per se but its so warm and he finds so much comfort in squishing his face between them. makes you literally fight to get him off you could try to put the new shirt on over his head to make him get off and he probably wouldnt budge 😭 he just sits there even more comfortable because now he's covered like a blanket LMFAO

Seungmin, Felix, Jeongin (honorable mention: Minho)

"No Shame"

the type who, if he's angry or jealous enough, will grope you in broad daylight. he wont do it for everybody's eyes but will specifically make sure the person that offended him can see it but nobody else can.

also very blatantly gropes you in front of the other members. for some (cough Jeongin cough) its an ego thing, but for the others its just the confidence that they feel because they know they're allowed and they just do not care that the others are 2 feet away

Han & Jeongin, Minho

Casual Enjoyers

these guys love your boobs to death (maybe not as much as Han) but they love them rather quietly. they dont outright tell you how much they love them and, if you aren't paying close enough attention, their love for them will go unnoticed

the ones who consciously care the most about your boobs' health. im not saying the others dont, but these guys will show their love for them by caring about their health specifically. they make sure you get the highest quality bras and does research for + buys you any oils that will give him an excuse are good for massages so on particularly achy days, you don't have to worry much about it.

also very easy to notice how much they love them when they drool and stare holes into them when you wear revealing clothes

Chris, Minho, Lix

[vxsellie]

TO WASH ASHORE - E.W

pairing : pirate!ellie williams x siren!reader synopsis : ellie wakes on a remote island, delirious and hallucinating as she spots a sea creature watching her from in the sea, your sharp eyes tracing her every movement. already deeming herself to be losing her sanity, ellie sees no harm in calling you over. a/n : bare w me here guys idk what im doing, this idea is so random but im trying to do it justice at least ! MCD WARNING BTW wc : 4.3k

ellie williams has lived a life of barbarity and brutality, living among pirates as a woman in disguise. of course, nobody would allow a woman aboard a ship, not to even mention the ship of a notoriously infamous pirate renown for his perfection and flawlessness. so, her fellow crew members know her as eli. a man.

she'd been sailing in disguise for nigh a year now, growing close with the pirates and getting to know life at sea. she's even built quite a reputation for herself ⎯ elijah williams, cruel and callous. captain miller's golden boy.

"avast ye!" a barrelman calls out from the crow's nest.

those on deck turn their attention toward the man. ellie halts her work and lifts her head up toward where he sits, putting a hand to her forehead to block the sun from her eyes.

one of the gunners climbs the shrouds toward the barrelman, scaling the lines swiftly. he pauses when he reaches the top, the two men conversing for a short moment before the barrelman passes the gunner his spyglass. the gunner's eyes widen and he begins talking frantically to the barrelman, both unsure on what to do. ellie watches the exchange from the deck, highly invested in what got the men so worked up.

she hears footsteps approach her from behind and she turns around to face whoever it is that comes to her. captain miller. she instantly straightens her back, the quintessence of respect for the man of authority.

he waves a hand at her, "oh relax, williams. you haven't gotta act so on edge all the time."

"easy for you to say." she scoffs, deepening her voice an octave. "you ain't gotta change to be accepted. you're the captain, you can do whatever you damn well please 'n nobody can give you shit."

"i suppose," he agrees. he then turns the topic around, peering up at the men atop the crows nest. "what're they doin' up there?"

ellie shrugs, "i haven't a clue. seems troublesome, though."

miller hums in acknowledgment, staring up at the two men who grow more and more frantic with each passing second. they hand the spyglass to one another back and forth, taking turns looking through it and exclaiming things of nervosity. ellie follows their gazes, turning toward where they aim the glass.

there, in the distance, she can see the formation of clouds beginning to fester along the horizon. its barely noticeable from her place on the deck unless one knows what to look for. but, if she were up high, the sight of such a storm would likely terrify her.

"a storm." ellie says.

miller turns to look at her, a brow raised. "come again?"

"that's what they're lookin' at." she explains, meeting his gaze with her brow knitted. "a storm is brewin' out there and we're heading directly into it."

miller doesn't need any proof of this, believing ellie without hesitation. and, within mere minutes, of her declaration, he's appointed roles and tasks to each of the two hundred crew members aboard. gunners are tasked with moving the ballast and heavy barrels into the hull; the pilot is given a stern talking-to on how best to handle this situation; the riggers are told what to do and which lines to pull.

ellie, being the quartermaster, is tasked with keeping the crew at bay. miller tells her she needs to keep them calm and level-headed, give them hope and whatnot. she nods, hurrying to do just that.

as they near the looming clouds, the sea grows angered. waves come up over the taffrails, soaking into the floor of the deck. the winds pick up, forcing the riggers into action. she alternates between people, assuring them that they're doing well and they'll make it through this. however, as she watches the storm grow nearer, she isn't quite so sure of that herself.

she sees a group of brutes, standing around without a role yet. she approaches them with her hands on her hips and a hardened expression on her face. "the fuck are you doin'!? batten down the hatches!" she orders. instantly, the men rush into action, tying things down and putting things away for the coming weather.

ellie's heart beats frantically in her chest as rainfall begins to drench her. she pulls her hat farther over her face, making sure that her hair is all tucked away and her coat remains loose.

the sea grows in her rage, throwing massive waves over the bow. crew members begin to lose faith, their minds descending into despair. ellie tries to keep them at bay for the most part, but it's fruitless. their hopelessness is no longer malleable. she curses under her breath, knowing exactly why miller appointed her this role ⎯ if the pirates lose hope, they won't work as efficiently at their jobs. even if wreckage is inevitable, they'd at least have a chance.

she glances around, the gunners breathing quick as they shakily trek back and forth. the riggers grow fatigued in their mission of manning the sails, the pilot grips the wheel tightly but not confident enough. the ship teeters on the waves, thrashing around with each one.

"fuck," ellie mutters, wiping salt water from her eyes as she rushes to the helm. she ascends the stairs and approaches the pilot with as kind as gaze as she can muster whilst so irritated. "okay listen," she says, causing the pilot to turn to her with wide eyes.

"elijah?" the pilot questions, "what're ya doin' up here? go help the others."

"won't be able t' help the others if ya crash the ship." she points out. "move, let me steer."

the pilot appears reluctant, but eventually gives in and moves. ellie takes the wheel, flexing her fingers against the wooden material. the feel of the wheel in her hands is comforting, reminding her of how she first began as a pirate ⎯ a small pilot who blended into the background for months.

she tips her head at the pilot, wondering why the hell he's still standing there. "go help the gunners, tar."

"oh, uh⎯" he nods quickly, "yes, sir!"

with that, he scurries off to assist those in need. ellie watches from the helm as he bustles about, seeking out those who need an extra hand. once she's sure he's doing as he was told, she averts her attention back to the task at hand.

the waves are growing by the second, more and more water taken over the bow. a few of the swabbies dumping buckets of seawater overboard. she spins the wheel, hard. the ship swerves to the right, hitting the next comber at an angle. a few of the pirates stagger on their feet or fall over, but nobody falls overboard so ellie counts that as a win.

her change in angle allows the ship to take in far less water. the crew members will need to embrace their sea legs a bit more, but overall the damage is now far less. a few of the pirates whip their head in her direction, knowing their previous pilot would never have the balls to whip the wheel so hard. when they see ellie "elijah" at the helm, many of them seem relieved, knowing she's a great pilot. if anybody can aid them in survival, its her.

this goes on a few more times, yanking the wheel hard to the side as to avoid water filling the deck. but as time progresses and the rain refuses to die down, the amount of overtake grows unavoidable. by the fifth wave, the swabbies are forced to resume their buckets. by the eighth, more pirates rush to their aid.

ellie grits her teeth, mentally scolding herself for having not done more despite it being nigh impossible to avoid water overtake. she grips the wheel tightly, tossing the wheel to the side as the ship lurches in that direction. they hit the wave inelegantly, one of the riggers falling from a shroud and into the water with a deafening splash. she ignores it, unable to part her mind from the task at hand.

she hears footsteps bound up the stairs of the helm, rushing to her. she sideglances in their direction, not surprised to see captain miller approaching her.

"what're our chances?" he asks her, bracing a hand on the rail of the helm that overlooks the deck, having to grip onto it to avoid toppling over.

"of survival?" she asks, turning away from him and toward the next wave that rolls in their direction. "not lookin' too good, i'll tell ya that."

"give me a precent."

"about 18." she says with a sigh, the ship overtaking a huge amount of water from the bow, two swabbies getting washed away with the wave. she forces herself not to think about their deaths, tightening her grip on the wheel until her knuckles turn white.

"fuck that." miller declares. "we ain't dyin' out here."

"don't have much of a choice, i'm afraid." ellie tells him, yanking hard to the left, the wheel spinning out of control for a split second as the water catches control of the rudder. she fumbles to regain reign over it. once she does, her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as she shoots miller a look. "i'm doin' everything i can, but i can't promise it'll be enough. this storm ain't relenting."

he narrows his eyes at her. "what's your name, williams?"

"excuse me?" she questions, momentarily caught off-guard.

"ya deem me fool, do ya?" he questions. "i know you're a woman. if we're all dyin' anyway, at least tell me your real name. you should be able to tell someone before your life ends."

"ellie." her chest feels heavy as she speaks her actual name for the first time in a year, throat feeling tight with the foreign sound of it on her tongue. she blinks water out of her eyes and she tells herself it's rain, though she's not entirely sure.

"well," miller says softly, nigh inaudible over the heavy rainfall pattering loudly against the sea around them, "it's nice t' meet ya, ellie williams."

she turns her head to face him, brow knitting. their eyes meet and she gives him a gentle smile, eternally grateful for his acceptance of her despite her year-long life of lies. apparently, that split moment of distraction is all it took for the storm to hit. while ellie's distracted by the unexpected turn of events miller voices, mother nature decides to attack while her guard is down.

a huge wave swells over the bow, water yanking the ship forward into the sea. ellie yelps as the wheel yanks from her hand, rudder being tugged by the sudden change. as the bow goes down under the surface, the stern goes up in the air. ellie's feet slip out from under her, her backside slamming against the vertical deck. miller's do the same.

as ellie slides downward toward the water below them, she feels a hand grab her by the wrist. she looks up, breathing hard. miller is still holding tightly onto the railing with his right hand, his left now holding ellie's entire weight.

the ship is vertically positioned, the bow slowly sinking into the aggravated sea as the stern is high in the air, teetering unnaturally.

she stares up at miller with wide eyes, her mind reeling at the sudden change in atmosphere. she'd told them they were likely to die, but she hadn't actually been ready to face death straight-on. the feel of powerlessness licks up her spine with a cold touch of dread and despair.

"ellie!" miller shouts, her attention snapping up to him. "i ain't lettin' ya go! don't lose⎯"

his words are cut off by a barrel coming down from the helm and hitting him in the head. the heavy weight of the wood knocks him out cold, his fingers going slack on the railing. they both instantly fall from the stern. she screams as she falls, sound interrupted as her body collides with the ocean. her throat burns, eyes stinging as she forces them to open in the water.

she looks around under the surface, ignoring the agonizing sting in her retinas. she's surrounded by wood and debris and fallen pirates. buts she's looking for one in particular. joel miller.

he's nowhere to be seen.

her heartbeat picks up, her lungs contracting with lack of oxygen. her mind begins to swim, unable to comprehend all that she's lost within a mere few seconds. she feels herself begin to sink as her eyes go dark, the weight of her body being dragged down by the merciless pull of gravitation.

she shuts her eyes, allowing the earth to pull her under the water and towards its core. consciousness plays with her, pulling her in and out of it. not a single coherent thought runs through her mind as she sinks down, down, down,

just as she comes to terms with death, shaking its hand and accepting its sudden control over her, something else grabs her other hand. something soft, a gentle caress of fingers wrapping around her wrist. life.

ellie's chest constricts as she shoots up, the feel of water in her lungs as she gags on it. the feel of pain welcomes her before the feel of relief does. her throat burns, her body is weak, her eyes sting. everything aches so very agonizingly that nothing else really matters to her.

she rolls over, getting on her hands and knees as she coughs and hacks water from deep within her chest. once she manages to level out her breathing enough to form an intelligible though, she realizes what she's on.

her fingers dig into soft sand, the sediment wedging under her nails. she lifts her head, eyes wide in shock. she's on an island, tiny enough she can see right across to the water on the other side. she looks around some more, taking in the scarce amount of shrub and grass.

she huffs out a laugh, disbelief and delirium encircling the sound as it slips past her split lips. the light chuckle soon turns into boisterous cackling, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes she's alive. she's breathing, feeling, living.

through blurred vision, she grazes her eyes across the island, once again taking in the beautiful sight of it. she leans back on her knees, sitting on her folded feet. here gaze suddenly snags on something lying a few feet from her. a body. she narrows her eyes, praying that this island isn't inhabited. but when she recognizes the shape of it, she instantly rushes to its side.

captain miller. joel.

she crouches beside him, turning him onto his backside. she leans down, pressing an ear to his mouth, desperation filling her up as she listens for any sign of life. then she hears it. breathing.

it's croaky and crackled, but breathing nonetheless. she straightens. he's alive. once he wakes, he'll cough a bit and be in indescribable pain, but he's alive. she moves him onto his side to avoid him choking on his own saliva, tipping his head into the sand a bit.

her mind is moving at a million thoughts per second, ellie can hardly keep up with her own brain. she leans back, staring at joel's head as she breathes heavily, trying to grasp what exactly has happened. only an hour ago, she was⎯ wait. how long ago was that? for all she knows it may have been days since the shipwreck. it may have been months. she looks at the sky, hoping to be able to tell time by it somehow.

the sky is clear, blue and brilliant without a cloud in sight. but her clothes are still wet and so are joel's. plus, she isn't starving to death yet, so she decides it's only been a few hours.

her mind races, suddenly stuttering on one thought in particular: who the fuck got them out of the water?

if it were another crew member, they'd be on the island with her and joel. if it were another ship crew, they'd be dead before they could reach the depth of which she'd sank by then.

she traces her eyes along the horizon regardless, hoping she might see a ship or something to point toward who's responsible for this. that's when she sees you.

her brows raise at the sight of a girl so far out in the surf, water up to your shoulders. your hair is wet, clinging to your neck and forehead. you aren't wearing a top, bare shoulders peeking from the surface.

ellie squints her eyes, wondering if she's going crazy or not. the heat is getting to her, clinging to the wet clothes that soak her skin. her hat is missing, auburn hair now askew atop her head. she puts a hand to her hairline, shielding sun from sight. sure enough, there you remain.

gorgeous and luminary in your presence, out there like a beacon of hope amid chaos. water droplets run down your face, sparking like fragmented glass across your skin.

"hey!" she calls out, unable to stop herself. "c'mere!"

you remain in place for a long moment, tilting your head at her slightly. she worries, for a second, whether you truly were imagined purely out of her mind. honestly, how could someone so beautiful be out here right now? in the middle of the ocean. just standing there. it's impossible.

just as doubt traces up her spine, you begin forward.

your movements are languid, almost like you're made of water yourself. the tangible embodiment of the sea, beautiful and mysterious just like the ocean. ellie finds herself unable to look away, a wordless spell cast to immobilize her.

you continue forward, bare chest veiled by your long wet hair. like a fish on a hook, ellie crawls toward you. her jaw is slackened, eyes sparkling. you keep most your body in the water as you near her, lower waist never breaking the surface. ellie doesn't give much thought to it, to enamored by the sight of you.

you stop at the waterline, lying on your stomach. you bury your elbows in the sand, resting your chin on the palms of your hands. ellie stops right in front of your, her eyes wide as they search your face.

"...beautiful..," is all ellie is capable of muttering. you tilt your head at her, slow and steady. she continues to stare at you, awe-struck. the smallest smile manages to tug at your lips and ellie finds her heart speeding at the mere sight of it. you shut your eyes, grinning at her.

"thank you." you say.

ellie's ears perk at the sound. your voice is music, tone a melody. she can't help but yearn for it to be played on loop. over and over until she takes her final breath.

"y-you⎯" words feel foreign in her mouth, nothing coming out correctly. she shakes her head, touches of crimson staining her cheeks. she blinks a few times as she refocuses on your face, taking in every feature that adorns it. "you're⎯"

"what?" you croon, a gentle hum from the back of your neck. she finds herself leaning in at the soft sound, needing to be closer. needing to hear you better. your eyes sparkle at the sight of her desperation, scooting farther back ever so slightly. "i'm what?"

a breath escapes her lips as she stares. "you're beautiful."

"mm," you sound, blinking at her slow and seductive. she falls for it. of course she does, they all do. that's your curse.

"how⎯" she blinks down at the sight of you in the water, having emerged from the surf all on your own. "how'd you⎯"

you tilt your head again, though this time for another reason. you do it as to move it out of her line of sight, allowing her eyes to rest on the tail that grows from your hips. it's about five feet in length, blue and shiny. the scales catch the light, glittering like magic. the fins are translucent, filtering sunlight through the thin material.

she stares at it, unable to tear her eyes away. whether that be to delirium or adoration, you're unsure. so is she.

"i saved you," you mutter, drawing her gaze back to your face. your brows are furrowed, sincerity knitting them with a thin thread of deception. she blinks, the threads blurring together into a gentle curiosity. she leans in again. you lean back. the palms of her hands are now in the water, encircling her wrists with rocking waves against the shore. she continues to crawl toward you. out of mere pity, you refrain from easing back more. it'd be too easy that way ⎯ killing a starved pirate who's been marooned.

"a-and joel?" she blinks, completely unaware of your moral dilemma. she's equally unaware of the way you had been slowly easing into the water. somehow, they never seem to feel the cool liquid around them.

"yes." you confirm, narrowing your eyes at the girl and her soaked form. "yes, i saved your old captain as well."

she exhales, enamored by the information. you take this time to soak in the sight of her. her hair is damp, short auburn strands clinging to her face and neck. her thin white linen shirt is clad against her torso and chest, buttons undone at the top. her heavy brown coat hangs off of her, clearly having been made for a man. her black jeans are baggy, also meant for a male. as are her oversized boots.

"thank you, i⎯" she stammers, licking her lips in thought. "i-i don't know how to⎯"

"hush," you whisper, voice tangling with the waves crashing against the sand. the melody is the same, sediment washing from the shore as ellie does. you lift your hands, cradling her face with cold, wet fingertips. she leans into the touch, her eyes lidded and pupils blown. your gaze softens, "you needn't thank me, love."

"but⎯"

"shh," you place the pad of your thumb on her lips, silencing her. your eyes drop to her mouth, tracing your finger along her bottom lip. she parts them, breath hitching. "i saved you because i was unable to bare the sight of your death."

she doesn't respond, her mind jumbled. you continue, pulling her deeper into the water as she crawls toward you.

"so lovely, so undeserving," you whisper, the water now at her knees, forcing her to stand in the water with you. your hands remain on her face, thumb running along the pink skin of her mouth. she breathes heavily, desperate for more, completely under your alluring spell of seduction.

"closer," she mumbles, likely unaware she'd even uttered the word.

you oblige, the water now at your waists. your tail treads water as she legs continue to inch toward you. she moves forward, never stopping, never thinking, never able to. you stop, allowing to to ease closer. she does.

she braces her hands on your hips, fingers caressing the scales with gentility. so different from anything else you'd experienced. normally, when you seduce sailors, they're lustful and desperate and rough. she, however, is kind. curious wonder strikes her eyes, flecks of love already catching her pale green irises. they remind you of sea grass.

you decide to offer her a kindness before the inevitable death that's to overcome her.

you lean in, the waves crashing at your chests, pushing your toward her. you listen, the ocean being your religion, your beacon of a deity. she does the same, obviously. you continue to cradle her face as she continues to encircle your hips, delicacy lacing her every movement.

you press your lips to hers, your bewitched mind incapable of feeling anything aside from an insatiable hunger for her death. ellie, on the other hand, is seeing stars from the mere feel of her mouth on yours. the way your lips move with such calculated precision, the way your teeth nip at the lip you'd been tracing. it's intoxicating. the taste of you is more addictive than any glass of rum she'd ever had.

sea salt and passion line your lips, salty with its passion. she leans in as your lean away, careful to keep your lips connected the whole way down. while ellie is practically unraveling at the seams, you ease into the water.

the trick here, you've learned, is to kiss your victim. that way, they're already holding their breaths with their eyes closed. you can ease them into the water without so much as a fight.

unfortunately for her, ellie is no different.

she follows your every movement, unaware of how the ocean begins to rise. the way the water begins to clog her ears. you drag her down, filling her lungs with your own tainted oxygen that you're not in need of.

you're now far past the surface, ellie continuing to kiss you despite the way her hands go slack around your waist and her breath struggles to maintain itself. you hate the knowledge of knowing you'd killed such a beautiful soul. but, more than that, you love the taste of her death.

the way death holds her hand all the way down; the way her skin turns to an icy blue that mocks your tail; the way her mouth goes slack against yours; the way her eyes are already closed; the way her lungs constrict.

she dies without a fight, completely uncharacteristic for a woman who'd fought her whole life. for a woman who went disguised as a man for so many years, all of her walls were let down for you ⎯ a mysterious creature of the sea who's name she hadn't even bothered to learn.

and as she does, her last thoughts are of your face and the sound of your voice. she dies with a soft contentment in knowing you were what held her as she was put to an eternal slumber.

if her death could be something of benefit to you, she considers it to have been worth it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist : @luvsturniolo @zzombiegirl

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 fic taglist : @juptology @thefirstromantics @flutterdasher @dinakisser

[dipperscavern]

STARK SIZE KINK STARK SIZE KINK STARK SIZE KINK!

No one in the world could convince me that the stark bloodline is not half giant or something. Idk how they thought giants didn’t exist for years when the stark men were RIGHT THERE! On how tall cregan is… Do not tell me he isn’t 6’5-6’7 because george r.r. martin whispered it into my ear last night. He loooooooooves how tall he is compared to you, he relishes in just towering over you and watching your eyes get all big as you look up. He doesn’t even mean to be freaky wit it… he just thinks you are the sweetest little thing he has ever seen. Whenever he is with you out in public he likes to keep you nice and flush to his side so that if anything may happen, or if you are to fall victim to the northern cold, he may hold you close to protect you from whatever may befall you. He scares off everyone around you like a big scary bodyguard. He likes being close to you in general, loves the feeling of having your relatively small figure in contrast to his much larger one. When he beds you it is much worse really. Expect that he will crowd your personal space and leave you no air to breathe. Face all up in the crook of your neck, his big arms all-encompassing as he makes you feel aaaallllllllllllllll of him.

There are two walls in the north, The Wall™️ and cregans big backed body okay You Have To Just Think About It… He has been hardened by the trials of war and the duties that come along with being warden of the north. Nothing comes easy to anyone living that far up the hemisphere. That being said, he is muscular. Incredibly ripped and skilled with his sword (🤫). Just a big brute of a man, who is freakishly tall, and is casually dressed in pelts that are inches thick to shield him from the northern wind. If you squint he’s built like a roblox character… And do not think i forgot that time you mentioned how he would assert his dominance by backing you into a wall and just reminding you of who he is by just standing there and letting you soak it all in (🤫). You might think of him of your kind and lovely doting husband, but at the end of the day he is Lord Cregan Stark and you will know it before the end. The end being when he realizes you like the size difference a little too much and has you on your back against your soft blankets in no time with his [REDACTED] at the cusp of pushing into you (he likes to press down on your stomach once its fully inside btw) (how else do you think he got all those fuckass kids).

p.s. his dick is the ‘Ice’ of dicks :///

lots to think about… lots to ponder… (same anon as the possessive starks ask <3)

U CALLING CREGAN BIG BACKED LMFAOO. and him pressing down on your stomach…. oh my god. his dick being the ive of dicks is so… gods. he has to prep you good to be able to take him. i literally… don’t even have anything else to add this is all perfect. i can only push the message further.

[i gesture to this ask] FEAST YOUR EYEs

(cregan size kink drabbles coming to your screen soon)