#coconut chatters

[coconutkay]

pleeeeease boop me im literally

[stellerssong]

leveled up by a) making fig leaf infused simple syrup and b) realizing that there is a publicly accessible fig tree in a low foot traffic area less than 15 minutes' walk from my house

[creepyscritches]

After a decade of owning rats I can confidently say there are two base personalities.

Thinks it's rude to poop on you no matter what

Will poop on you the moment you give them reason

[jcsontodd]

Now i really want mango sticky rice

[lunahallowell]

W when u want coffee but the coffee at Dunkin Donuts 😪 I cri evrtim.

[weeping-willowz]

Euhhhhh what s with the new DA update

[venomnyx]

THE FOOL CARD - Josh Washington x F!Reader AO3 // Spotify Playlist

WORD COUNT - 3.1k SUMMARY - You've been sneaking around with your best friend's older brother since summer. If it's supposed to be easy and casual, why does it feel so foolish? TAGS/WARNINGS - friends with benefits to lovers, female anatomy reader, teasing, alcohol/drinking, cursing, unprotected p in v sex, brief mentions of asphyxiation, creampie, josh has feelings first, dialogue heavy? NOTES - this is a self-indulgent fantasy smutty dialogue pracitce that isn't edited bc who has time for that these days. ignore overuse/repeat words if u love me. fan of josh since '15 only now i have the ability to do something about it

“You don’t really believe in that stuff, do you?” Josh asks, leaning against the doorway, casually sipping a beer.

You glance up from the cards spread out in front of you. Ashley sits opposite you, deer-eyes round with awe from when she held off of your every word, hinting at her friendship with Chris potentially becoming something more. A small smile grows on your face as you gather the silky cards together and slot them back into place.

“You’re not just saying that because you’re scared, are you, Joshy boy?”

With another sip, the corner of his mouth ticks up with intrigue. He shoulders off the doorway and saunters over, eyes never leaving you.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” he says cooly, sliding onto the stool that Ashley scoots out of. She shoots you a knowing look, a glimmer in the ring of her green eyes, a flush to her cheeks as she scurries back into the chatter-filled living room.

“Tell me,” he begins, lounging back in the wooden chair with a low, shadowed look on his face. A long sip of beer, a generous amount of lash-lidded eye contact. “What does my future hold?”

“Your future?” You smirk, skillfully shuffling the cards in your hand, cheeks warm when you lose the competition of holding his confident stare. The tarot cards are glossy and thick, a high-quality deck gilded with gold that you’d nabbed from a crystal shop that stunk of coconut incense and white sage.

A card flies from the deck, landing face-down. You reach and flip it over, revealing The Tower—a crumbling structure, lit with a devastating fire.

“Sudden, eruptive change.”

He leans closer, interest piqued. “What kind of change?”

“Well… let’s ask the cards to clarify,” you continue, reshuffling until another card leaps out. You pick it up, revealing a heart, daggered with three, long swords. “The Three of Swords. Heartache, and pain.”

He scoffs humorously. “The only heartbreaking and painful thing about this week was Chris eating my leftover pizza.”

You hum, unconvinced. Another card.

Ten of Cups reversed. Familial despair.

“It feels like a warning,” you say, trying not to look at the blatant picture. Familial grieving, pain, loss. Clearing your throat, you glance back up at him. “Almost like everything you know is about to change.”

“Hm. Seems ominous,” he replies, entirely not convinced. “What about my near future?” He perks a suggestive brow, licks the dry of his lips. “What are the cards saying about tonight?”

You roll your eyes, feigning indifference, but your hands tremble when you pull two cards. The Moon, and The Lovers.

“Hmm… looks like the cards are saying…” you faux scan the cards, then glance over your shoulder to ensure there aren’t any eavesdroppers. When you’re satisfied they’re distracted, you return with your chin propped on two folded hands and a small, mischievous smile.

“Your room. Midnight?”

His lips stretch into a grin. “Y’know, if the cards keep saying things like this, I might just become a believer.”

You mirror his smile, tucking yourself in tight as you lean closer to the counter.

Hannah walks in, playing with her fingers nervously, and you instinctively lean back. She glances between you, Josh, the cards, and twists her feet against the tile seams.

“You want a go, Han?” You ask. She nods, but appears apprehensive.

“Come on, Josh, client confidentiality. Get outta here. Scram.”

Josh laughs, once. “Alright. I’ll leave you ladies to it.”

Your eyes flicker to him for a moment. He nods with a poker face like steel, raises his beer in acknowledgement of his sister, and leaves the room without a second look.

It’s cruel, how he walks away. Cruel like it’ll never mean more to him.

Ashley, face pink from cocktails, corners you when you return from the readings, hand pawing at your arm.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Ash. What’s up?”

She leans closer, voice lowering. “Do you have a crush on Josh?”

You’re mid-sip of wine when she asks, and you sputter a cough.

“Excuse me?”

She grins. “You know. Do you like like him?”

Ever the butt of the joke, your defensiveness flares like the prickle of young flames. Is she teasing you? Your fingers tighten around the glass stem.

“No, I know what you meant,” you reply, face warming. “Um, no, Ash. I don’t have a crush on Josh.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right? I could totally set you guys up. I mean, I told you about my crush on…” she glances around, tactically lowering her voice. “…Chris. So, you can trust me!”

“Ash, I think everybody knows about your crush on Chris.”

She blinks like a doe in headlights. “No, they don’t,” her gaze slips away. “Do they?”

You sip from your glass. “Everybody except Chris, apparently.”

She whacks your arm gently. “Shut up! He might hear you!” She scolds, embarrassed. You chuckle to yourself, eyes drawn to your cup as you mindlessly swirl the drink.

“But, seriously, it’s probably good that you don’t have a crush on Josh. Hannah and Beth would kill you!” She laughs.

Your blood turns icy as your mind is suddenly overwhelmed by a flurry of hook-up flashbacks, and you take a healthy, guilt-numbing swig of your drink before replying.

“Haha. Yeah. You’re probably right about that.”

Two glasses of wine later, you excuse yourself for the bathroom and veer off path when the coast is clear to Josh’s room. His door is ajar, feeding through a slim slice of warm lamp lighting onto the dark hallway.

A familiar routine— a scratch for the itch, a hit for the craving. Can’t keep your hands off him, not since the first time. You’d be in so much trouble if the twins knew you were hooking up with their older brother, but the scandal of it all gives you hot flashes between the thighs.

Hands tickle up your sides when you sneak in. A flat palm over your shoulder to click the door shut.

“You’re late,” he teases.

You stifle your giggles. “Yeah, well, unless you want everybody finding out about whatever we’re doing, then you’ll have to be patient for me to find my moment to sneak off.”

He closes the space between you, pressing against your chest to tilt you against the dresser, feeling small beneath his frame. Knees locked around his hips when you hop up.

“Would it be so bad?” He murmurs, immediately kissing along your neck, hands greedy on your waist. “You know… if they knew? About us?”

Us. A word like hot coals, fingers instinctively recoiling from the topic. Excited butterflies turned to anxious wasps in your belly. Casual moments bleeding into lingering stares, “we’re just friends” to eye contact and hand-holding when he makes you cum.

You think Emily knows. She’s quick-witted and perceptive whenever you leave the room, eyes sharp like a bristled cat ready to pounce.

“What’s there to know? We’re just friends,” you say, and he hums sceptically in response. You clutch his shoulders, warm beneath wine-numb fingers. “Besides, Hannah and Beth would kill me—”

“So, that’s it?” He grins, pulling away just enough that you can feel his breath fanning across your clavicle. You smell alcohol and peppermint gum and your head spins from the proximity.

“I’m just your dirty little secret?”

He’s making fun of you.

“Shut up,” you whine, breath laboured from the tingly feeling he produces against your skin with his mouth. Arousal so severe you feel like you’re sixteen again, a hormonal ball of teenage puppy fat and insecurity.

“Fine. How’d Hannah’s reading go? What’d she wanna know?”

You sigh with frustration, trying to nudge your hips closer to his. “Josh, please don’t talk about your sister when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Oh, just like that, huh? Like I’m a piece of meat?”

“Isn’t that what you signed up for, pretty boy?”

He nips harder. “You think I’m pretty?”

A severe eye roll. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Well, I can be pretty convincing,” he mutters, pushing the hemline of your skirt up your thigh. “Your dress is cute. You wear it for me?”

You had— all butterflies and anticipation at the thought of easy access. A short, black milk-maid thing, as well as enduring an everything shower the night before, sore from vanilla-sugar exfoliation. Soft for him.

The words escape you in a stuttered breath when he thumbs up to your panty line, tipping it to the side.

“You wish.”

He noses against the column of your throat when he slips a finger against you, shuddery breaths when the slick gathers on his palm.

“Always so wet,” he strains, tipsy touches circling your clit, pressing into the honeyed entrance. “You’re insatiable, you know that? Can’t get enough of me?”

No.

“Mm… don’t flatter yourself. Consider it convenient.”

He tilts his head. “Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?”

“Stop— stop being such a dick,” you pant, muscles seizing against the sudden onslaught of building pleasure.

“Thought you liked me a little mean.”

He slides a singular finger into you, all molten and tingly as he knuckle-fucks you.

“Oh God, shut up.”

He sucks pressure onto your neck, affectionate with a hand on the small of your back. Your insides clench, aching with the urge to be filled, a desire his fingers would never be fully be able to satisfy.

You palm the growing mound behind his denim. “Need to feel you.”

He leans back, looking at you boyishly, pausing the work of his wrist.

“Right now?” His voice peaks. “But you’re hardly ready—”

“Gotta be quick.” You tug on his belt buckle and challenge his eye contact with lowered eyelids. “I can take it.”

You’ve rendered him stun-locked, shy.

He blinks. “Fuck— shit, okay,” he reaches for the zipper on his jeans, already steel-hard when he releases himself. He nudges closer, but you’ve never done it like this before. Not without a condom.

“This okay?” He asks hurriedly, the strain to his voice a sobering splash.

The wine blurs the line you promised not to cross. You glance down to where he fists himself, hastily spreading your slick across his length, and your lower belly flips.

You nod, bottom lip captured between your teeth. “Fuck. Please.”

“You sure?”

“Josh—”

“Alright, alright, needy.”

He slips a hand over the curve of your ass, propping you firmly on the dresser and nestling further between your thighs, notching his tip against your wet heat before pushing in. A sharp inhale accompanied by a hand on his chest, urging him to go slower.

It’s a tight stretch as you adjust to the weight of him pressing inside you, nails digging reflexively into the meat of his shoulders.

“Easy, I got you,” he murmurs, hand sliding up from guiding himself inside of you to the wall beside your head. His mouth captures yours as he sinks deeper, a balm to soothe the sting.

You don’t normally kiss. Not often, usually only when you’re drunk. It felt too intimate at first, too weird— because two “just friends” fucking each other’s brains out certainly wasn’t, but you sigh-melt when his tongue slips past the parting of your lips.

He rolls his hips shallowly once, twice— until the burn turns honey-silk, sheathed heavily in your velvet. He’s panting when he leans back, reaching up for purchase, something to ground himself. He instinctively goes for your waist, second-guesses himself, and leans a hand against the wall.

Dark eyes search for yours in the haze. “You alright?”

You slide your hands underneath his plaid shirt. “You trying to be romantic or something?”

He rolls his eyes. “Quit it.”

You bite down on your lower lip, suppressing a grin, and dig the ball of your foot into his ass to pull him closer.

“Get on with it, then.”

He obliges with a groan, pistoning slowly at first. A gentle back-and-forth, slickening himself up all sweet for you, precarious where he tries not to make the dresser rock too much. Helplessly his fingers cling to you, digging into the plush of your thigh, thumbing along the crease where the skin meets your hip.

He reaches to cradle your face and parts your kiss-wet lips with a thumb. You suck him into the cup of your mouth, tongue curling around his skin. You’ve never blowed him before but you’re sure he pictures you pretty on your knees with the way his eyes darken.

His thumb releases with a pop and he presses it against your clit, puffy with need.

The rhythm catches up, and soon you’re panting as you rock against one another. Arms clinging to the broad spread of his shoulders, legs squeezing around his waist. You could stay here forever, you think— drunk on the way he fucks you like he cares what you feel, what you think. Attentive, giving. Better than any exes and you’re sure he knows it— why else would you stick around?

Your best friend’s older brother.

“We should stop doing this,” you concede, words strung high across a moan. “Ashley thinks I’ve got a crush on you.”

A tilt of his head. Something flickers on his face, sparkles in his eye when his lip quirks up. Amusement.

“That right?” He breathes, teeth flashing. “Cute.”

“Jesus, right there—”

Panting breaths melt together between a symphony of curses. A roll of your eyes as your head tilts forward, nails digging into his tense biceps, bracing yourself against the pulse at your centre as his spit-silky thumb circles your clit.

He swallows thickly, throat bobbing against your temple. “Well… do you?”

You pull back from the crook of his neck you’d buried yourself into. “What?”

“Have a crush on me?”

You sock his shoulder. “Don’t make it weird.”

He grins, followed by a roll of his hips. “Oh, right, because that’ll make things weird.”

“Just— just keep doing that, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Footsteps and laughter.

Your eyes widen, nerves doused with adrenaline. “Someone’s coming—”

Josh’s hand snaps up and clamps across your mouth, his hips shifting to continue their pace but careful to mind knocking against the dresser. Eyes low and dark as he leans closer, cheeks flushed as he squeezes your face.

From outside the door, “Yo, where’s Josh?”

“He said he was going to get more beer!”

It’s Chris and Mike.

“He’s been gone for a while. Do you think he’s passed out in his room?”

Your brows scrunch, torn between the thrill of fear and pleasure. A moan squeaks behind his palm, every thrust a countdown. Josh mime-shushes you, licking his lips and glancing over at the door as footsteps pass by. Nothing but a piece of wood between you and a secret spilt.

You whimper, pussy turning to liquid heat between your thighs, fizzy with ecstasy, clamping down hard around his hips. Cobra tight around the lava sink and drag of his cock.

“Nah, man. Let’s check the wine cellar.”

The footsteps continue down the hallway, easing your adrenaline with each step as you turn gelatinous in his arms. He releases you at once and the oxygen runs to your head with a dizzying force, eyes wild as they address you.

“Did you…?”

“Mhm.” It pitches high, and his eyes widen with the realisation.

“You liked that. Do you want us to get caught?”

You tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Maybe I just liked you choking me.”

His brows raise. “Wait. Really?”

You smile wickedly in response, leaving the question unanswered— you aren’t trying to give him any ideas, but you feel that bubbly-wistfulness in your belly at the thought of his hand around your throat the next time he takes you.

You’re not meant to daydream or hope for the next time; this was only supposed to be a one-time thing— just shy of your nineteenth birthdays, fucking yourselves through a dry spell, but you’ve been jumping his bones since the Washington’s invited you to stay with them last summer and he showed you how to smoke your first joint.

You’re a sweet girl, their parents said. Hannah and Beth couldn’t have been more excited that their best friend was coming to stay for six weeks. They hadn’t suspected a thing.

That was last August. Now you’re here with the others for the annual winter getaway— the lodge all to yourselves, and you’d not even lasted a night before you’d tip-toed into his room at 1 AM.

Josh grunts into your neck, cock twitching within you, sliding in and out of your slickened pussy like water.

“Where should I…”

A vulnerable split-second of eye contact. Shivery energy zips between you and something atmospherically shifts, like a moon falling into orbital alignment. The space behind your rib cage becomes soft and malleable, gravity tugging on your heartstrings.

The Fool Card.

A dangerous cliff edge that you’re too wrapped up in the moment to take mind of. You’re already in this deep— might as well fling yourself over it.

You dig your fingers into him. “Inside.”

His eyes flash wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah— fuck, Josh, let me feel you.”

“Oh, shit. Okay. So fuckin’ hot.”

He thrusts with more urgency now, brows knit, teeth bared. Sharp when they slide along the skin of your shoulder.

He releases a cute grunt when he comes, nose buried in your neck, cock pulsing strongly inside of you. A sharp little rut of his hips, pushing himself deep, milking dry what remains.

Panting breaths mingle together, misty with post-sex sweat. You stroke the back of his exertion-damp head, cradled gently against your shoulder, his knuckles white as they brace against the dresser.

This is usually the time when you clear your throats and tug your clothes back on, but when he lifts his head to look at you, there’s something soft and sticky-sweet in the post-clarity lax of his features, the seraphic upturn of his brows.

“Can I kiss you?”

You blink at him. “Josh…”

Something visibly deflates on his face. “Sorry, sorry, I overstepped, I forgot the 'rules'—”

You grab him by the neck, thumb affectionately along the line of his jaw, and capture his mouth against yours. When you kiss he’s still sheathed to the hilt, chests pressing together, and you suddenly don’t feel so drunk anymore.

Everything narrows down, vision tunnelling. You’re suddenly not in a lodge with all of your friends, not propped up on his dresser, not just friends with benefits. You can pretend in the safety of his bedroom, making out like lovers, because when it’s this dark it’s just him, him, him, an utter mind-reeling consumption, so warm and soft and tender you feel shame trickle down your spine.

It’s not supposed to feel this good.

Spit strings between your mouths when you pull back.

“We should… go back to the others. Probably wondering where we are.”

He pants, gazing down at your lips. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We should do that.”

It’s cruel, the way he looks at you. Cruel like this means more to him, too.

dividers credit @saradika-graphics // mdni graphics credit @arcielee

[evilgwrl]

Arranged marriage! With ghost where she’s from a small island and ghost comes to collect taxes well the island is just a few hundred short they can make it up next year? Right?! Nah ghosts is like mmmmm I’ll take what yall call a princess mean while she’s struggling as much as the other fokes on the island so when Simon takes her way and finds out she’s never lived the simple life he makes it his mission to show her the good that can out of this arrangement smutty if you would 😭 I’m obsessed with the arranged marriage trope with ghost he’s a cutie patootie

Arranged Marriage w/ Simon Riley

Holy moly I love this…

Thank you for this idea @creepytoes88 I hope you don’t mind that I made him a king, I just wanted it to flow with giving her a better life and the tax collection <3

King!Simon Riley x Reader

Archipelago

CW: Being sold by your family to pay off debt, sharing a bath, oral sex (f receiving), orgasm bc simon knows what to do ;)

Word Count: 2,623

Twisted fingers hooked under the bark, knees scraped with stagnant flora, coiling limbs of bushy thorns blistering around the tropical plains. There was a subtle burn that sunk through your thighs, muscles gnawing at your bones before you finally settled on a thick branch, wind hissing in your ear, almost warning you. You paid no attention.

Pupil-blown eyes stared off to the view in front of you, lapping in the vicious strain of turquoise, untouched coral glistening an array of colours under the harsh sun. There was a trickle of sweat that ran down the back of your neck, your hair thrown into a rough bun as you shielded yourself with raggedy, overworked fingers.

You watched the skerries surrounding your island, a flurry of birds swooping low before nestling down on the warmth of the rocky floor. It was a peaceful sight. Nothing but the low crash of waves to be sound, the occasional calling of a fellow Islander working its way through the palms and out of the sand, before landing in your ear.

You felt the prickle of pain shoot through your feet as you landed on the ground, the grass covered in speckles of yellow dust sticking in between your toes as you hurried down to the village. Any bit of tranquillity soon disappeared as your eyes locked into the sight of the townspeople, the Island far too small to accommodate such needing families.

“Y/N! Where have you been? The King shall be here soon and you’re off running with the fairies.”

Your Mother’s tone was harsh and reprimanding, her eyes tight with wrinkles as she scowled, chucking a makeshift broom at you. You weren’t exactly sure what the difference of you sweeping would make, the life you live here, swept or not, is strikingly different to the one of a King. No matter how beautiful your Island is, your feet are permanently stained with grains of sand, skin is littered with dull scars and fresh scratches.

You understood her worry, offering her a gentle, apologetic smile as you followed her bustle of orders. Your Father was the village Chief, a wise man who led the people to survive without the worry of advanced civilisation.

You were seen as a headcase to the others. A woman whose head wasn’t fixed well enough to her shoulders. A dreamer. Your mind was amplified by the need to do more, to see more. Untouched beauty too turns mundane when you’re not allowed to experience it.

As night fell, the waves seemed to settle, burying themselves in the crops of sand that spanned around you, 10-legged creatures hiding away in the cocoon of a cracked shell. Palms slept with the safety of coconuts that would blossom into the town’s delicacy, the meat tender on the tongues of children, the water fuel for the fishermen. There was a large bonfire lit, the earthly crackle occasionally popping as a spark flew out, hissing against the cool air before dispersing into a drag of smoke.  

Girls chattered around you, smoothing down their appearances as they used crushed berries on their lips and the apples of their cheeks. You were never fussed about the King, hardly paying attention to him on his previous arrivals if he even bothered to show up. You took note of his lack of empathy, normally sending one of his men in his place, unbothered by the Island that’s supposed to fall under his command.

You heard the ship pull up, wood striking against the ground as it split between the beach, a carved woman tangled to the figurehead, flowing hair etched between wood and a man’s knife as she breached the island. They were a loud bunch, deep voices echoing across the Isle as your father walked down to greet them formally.

The air grew silent, thick smog suffocating the air as your father appeared, his figure shaking as he hobbled towards you. Toughened hands gripped your cheeks, stroking the sun-kissed skin to comfort you.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

“We- We’re short on our taxes,” he gulped, a hand planted in your matted hair as you scrunched your brows together.

“But how? We’re sensible, we work harder- How?”

“Things happen beyond our understanding sometimes, sweetheart, just know me and your mother love you very much.”

“I know? Why are you-” you stalled “- Why are you telling me this? What’s going on?”

“The King needs a wife,” he hiccupped as realisation set in, spine snapping into a cold flush as you attempted to wriggle free from your father’s grip.

“No-“

“I have to, Y/N, I don’t have a choice!”

“A choice? There’s always a choice! How could you do this to me?” The strain of a sob wracked through your chest, your heart beating eerily slow against your rib cage as you wailed out for your mother who only walked away, her face concealed by strands of hair. Hands coiled around your biceps, dragging you towards the ship as you carried on, cementing your heels into the dirtied sand to anchor yourself.

“Stop resisting,” A harsh voice spoke into your ear, nails breaking the surface of your tender skin as you nipped at the air, wriggling. Your limbs felt mangled as you were thrown over someone’s shoulder, your stomach caving in with a penetrative force as you choked on the air, saline tears streaming down your face.

Aching skin collided with the sand as you were thrown onto the floor, leather boots staring back at you as your head cocked up. His figure was tall, dressed in all black with a row of medals displayed on his breast pocket. His stare was dark, irises the colour of burnt whiskey, pale lashes flickering down at you before looking back up. The rest of his face was covered by a woven garment, handcrafted to perfection, painted with a white skull.

“Did you find it necessary to throw her at my feet like she’s some dog?”

“Your Majesty she was res-“

“It is a yes or no question.”

His voice was thick with malt, a hidden arrogance underlying his words as his eyes spoke for him. A veiny hand was offered to you, light scars tracing his knuckles before he lifted you, admiring you for a brief second.

“She’ll do. I’ll be back in 6 months,” The King spoke roughly.

The sea breeze was tranquil given the circumstances, the ocean rocking your tears to a halt as you huddled yourself away in the captain’s quarters. Your body was trailed with layers of silk, dirtied clothes moulded to your skin as you sniffled. There was a vast smell of salt, almost suffocating you as it burnt through your nose and hair. You scrunched your skin, rubbing at your nostrils before nestling yourself into a pillow.

You awoke to the sound of commotion. You took in the handful of women surrounding you, their hair tied back in a tight bun, protected by a frilly cap. They wore black and white dresses, aprons attached to their fronts and smiles on their faces.

“Good evening, your majesty. Shall we run you a bath?”

You sat up, hands creasing against the sheets below you as your eyes adjusted to the new scenery. You weren’t on the ship anymore.

“Where am I?” You choked out, huffing your chest out to look more intimidating. In reality, you look cowered, skin droopy with betrayal, burst blood vessels evident under your eyes.

“In your private quarters, the King requested we come to you, settle you in.”

You scowled, “I just want to be alone.” They left in a hurry, feet skidding against the floor in a squeak as they shut the large oak doors behind them.

The room was one for Royalty. The large bed was dressed in golden sheets, red swirls detailing the plush headpieces, solid gold baubles along the edges as tall stakes met the ceiling, lace hanging from them for privacy. Your feet hit the polished marble floors; calloused skin not used to such luxury that you almost yelped in unfamiliarity. Glass trickled from the overhead chandelier, an arrangement of crystals advocating flickers of light across the room, an occasional rainbow seeping through like a diamond in the rough.

Oil paintings hung from the walls, detailed gold wrapping around them as the figurines stared at you dauntingly. A plethora of books rested on shelves, a comforting sofa tucked away in the corner, highlights of red bursting through the stuffed pillows, plucked by the finest of feathers.

The room felt suffocating, the air a terminal sickness that wove into your lungs as you realised the severity of the situation. Your father – your parents, had sold you away to the King to pay for lost taxes. You were a miserable sight as you huddled over onto the floor, chest collapsing with cries as you attempted to grip the material beneath your knees, desperate for the sensation of sand.

Simon watched you intently from the door as he cracked it open, a deafening cough sounding from him as you looked up at him, bewildered.

“I understand the circumstances aren’t the best, but your people owed me, and they chose you as collateral.”

“I want to go home,” you hiccupped, facing away from him in humiliation. His leather shoes hit the floor, striding up to you in only a few steps.

“This is your home now, and in a few weeks, we shall be wedded. Whether or not you choose to invite your family is up to you, but I shall not tolerate disrespect. If you didn’t want the maids to tend to you, that’s fine, but I will.”

You watched his stalking figure disappear into another room attached to your quarters, the heavy pour of water indicating that he was running you a bath. You rose to your feet anxiously, popping your head around the corner as you took in the room. A large tub was carved with porcelain, wide in size with golden feet, bubbles guzzling under the powerful stream as the scent of lavender filled the air.

“Undress,” He spoke as you cocked a brow.

“In front of you?” You scoffed.

“You didn’t want the maids, now you have me. Undress.”

Your clothes itched as they were ridden from your skin, bare body flushed under the light as you attempted to conceal yourself from his bruising vision. The water scolded you as you sunk in, muscles relaxing instantly under the soothing oil. It was an irregular feeling.

You heard him shuffle behind you as you turned, eyes gawking wide as you took in his naked figure, cock resting low against his thigh. A squeak slipped through your lips as you turned around in a fluster.

His mask was off, his face a welcoming surprise. His brows were thick, bulging above slit frames, his nose slightly crooked with a masculine appeal to him.

“What are you doing?” you gasped, chest tight, eyes bulging.

“Bathing,” he practically snarled, “move over.”

Your belly felt hot, the unknowing feeling of arousal seeping through your pores as you adjusted in the water, the liquid rising as he stepped in before you were pulled back against him, bottom flushed against his thighs. You were tense.

“Relax, it’s just a bath. We will not do anything until you’re ready but after marriage, I will need heirs.”

“Heirs? I don’t even know your name!”

A hand coiled around your waist, tugging at the tender skin for a moment before it rested, settling at your upper thigh.

“It’s Simon, Y/N.”

“How do you- “

“What kind of King would I be if I didn’t even know the name of the woman I’m marrying?”

The air was hazy with steam, almost suffocating you as you felt yourself relax against his hard chest, delicate twirls of hair tickling against your spine. As your body settled, Simon washed you, entwined rag lubed with delicate soap as he massaged it into the crevices of your skin, any dirt seeping into the water. His fingers were long as they massaged against your scalp, digging any knots out with a gentle force before rinsing it.

You found yourself refreshed as you settled into the sheets once more, body fresh with a floral scent, skin drenched in almond oil, the glistening reflecting against the flame of the fireplace. The bed sunk in as Simon crawled in next to you, menacing frame wracking against yours. It was silent, the usual sound of waves and birds no longer hushing you to sleep.

Your fingers twitched as you played with the hem of your nightgown, letting out a low, exhausted breath.

“I shall not hurt you for as long as you are mine, Y/N. I hope you grow to trust me and understand that I am a man of my word. If you allow me, I would like to show you who I am and the life you can have here.”

You swallowed. There was an itch inside you that couldn’t be scratched, his words only adding fuel to an uncontrollable flame as you turned to face him, cocked up on one arm. Your gown hung low, strap dangerously low on your shoulder as he adjusted his vision back to your face, lips parted with a flushed manner.

“I’ve never experienced anything before.” Your voice was low, an evident streak of self-consciousness staining it as you averted your gaze.

“Let me help you.”

Rugged fingers lifted your gown up, silk resting against your stomach in a hunched manner as Simon gripped at your thighs, spreading them lewdly. He huffed out a hum of appreciation as you jolted in embarrassment. You were so open, so exposed to fresh eyes.

“No one’s ever touched you here?” He asked. You shook your head, gazing down at him with an unspoken innocence. You felt his lips curl against your thigh as he placed a gentle kiss to it, letting it rest against the warm skin before two fingers pulled apart your lips, glistening folds presented before him.

You felt pleasure tickle up your spine as the King placed a small kiss against your clit, a mewl escaping you as you instinctively attempted to press your thighs together. He let out a tsk as he looked up at you, amused by your reaction.

“Relax for me,” he said, arms flushed around your thighs before his tongue soaked up the middle, your juices drenching his lips as you squealed, your fingers wrapping into his dusty hair as he ravaged the taste of you.

The noises you made were wanton, slopping breaths soaking the air as he worked against you, slurping you into his mouth with an aggravated need for you. His teeth grazed against your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it before sucking, an obscene scream sounding from you as he continued the assault.

“Taste so fucking good,” he quipped, holding your belly down in place as your hips lifted, clit overstimulated by the amount of pleasure it only just began receiving.

“Sim-Simon, I feel strange- somethings happening,” you croaked, pulling at his hair in an attempt to stop him.

“Let it happen,” he growled, his tongue thrusting against your entrance as a finger pressed against your nub, rubbing it in circular motions as you began to hold your breath.

The pressure in your belly was turmoil like an unknown danger was approaching. Simon didn’t stop, the sound of your breath hicking stirring something primal inside of him as he held you down before the pressure inside you popped, a broken whine piercing the air as you came, hips rocking desperately against the King’s face as he growled against your heat.

He pulled away, spit slick against his chin, cocky smile on his face as you panted, chest rising and falling in a synchronised fashion. Your legs closed instinctively, wetness seeping between your bottom as you shivered, satisfied clit throbbing.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart.”

[tahnisreu]

listen years in cryo-sleep definitely killed some braincells somewhere along the way and no one should be surprised.

My first fop playthrough has my na'vi named Tsu'Tsu. She's an expert at falling off cliffs, flash banging herself , walking into exploding plants that launch her into the air, and her entire combat stragety is pelt them with grenades and her Ikran is purple and named Carol.

My second playthrough has Kai'Kai, he's a himbo and has a pink ikran named Floof. He's really good at walking on those platforms that launch you into the air but in this case it's right off a cliff... into the mouth of a thanator.

[urfavoritewriter]

Beachside Appetite

Content: M/?, Male Vore, Male Pred, Digestion. Likes and reblogs are very appreciated!

Brandon lounged on the sandy shores, the gentle hum of the beach around him. The sun kissed his tanned skin, a light sheen of sweat making it glisten in the afternoon light. The serene lull of the waves crashing in the distance, children’s laughter, and distant chatter, were the perfect background noise for his relaxation.

Beside him, an empty towel and a few discarded personal items—a pair of flip-flops, a novel, and sunglasses—were the only testament to the beach-goer who had once occupied the spot. That, and the distinct, rounded bulge in Brandon’s stomach.

He adjusted his position slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, the sand molding to accommodate the added weight of his recent indulgence. His free hand lazily traced circles on his swollen belly. "You know," he began, addressing the mound with a smirk, "I always did say the beach was the best place for a snack."

From within, a muffled groan responded, the contours of his belly shifting faintly in protest. Brandon simply chuckled, enjoying the sensation of the beach-goer squirming inside him. The movements caused his taut skin to ripple slightly, drawing the curious glances of a few nearby sunbathers.

A playful breeze swept through, carrying the tang of salt and the tantalizing scent of sunscreen. Brandon tilted his face up, relishing the feel of the sun on his features. "You should be thanking me," he mused aloud, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "I mean, you get the best beach view, nestled comfortably inside me."

He sighed, stretching out his limbs, the hot sand gritty beneath him. His belly, with its pronounced bulge, stood in stark contrast to his chiseled abs and toned muscles. But Brandon didn’t mind. In fact, he found it rather... appealing. A testament to his power and dominance.

Feeling a bit more playful, he gave his belly a firm pat, eliciting another muffled protest from within. “Shhh,” he whispered, teasingly pressing a finger to his lips, even though his occupant couldn’t see it. “Let’s not make a scene. After all, I'm trying to enjoy my day at the beach.”

The afternoon sun climbed higher, casting its intense golden rays on the beach. As Brandon continued to bask, his skin warmed, and the bronze tan deepened. The sounds of the beach grew louder, the frolicking beach-goers adding to the merry ambiance. Yet for the one inside Brandon's belly, the surroundings were a stark contrast to his situation.

The temperature inside the confines of Brandon's stomach rose steadily, and the muffled, desperate movements from within grew more pronounced. The tightness was oppressive, the thick muscular walls of Brandon's insides pressing in from all sides, leaving little room for maneuvering.

However, for Brandon, each squirm and wriggle was like a gentle massage, a rhythmic motion that he could feel from deep within, making his relaxation even more pleasurable. He could almost visualize the poor beach-goer, trapped in his heated, constrictive prison, the tightness increasing with each passing moment.

Occasionally, he'd feel a particularly strong push or a kick, and he'd simply chuckle, giving his belly a soft, admonishing tap. "Easy there," he'd drawl, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards in amusement. "I know it's hot, but it's summer, after all. Besides," he added, a teasing note in his voice, "this is what a real beach body feels like."

The scent of coconut oil wafted through the air as Brandon applied a generous amount to his skin, making sure not to miss a spot. His fingers lingered on the surface of his belly, tracing the faint outlines of the person inside. Each time his fingers brushed against a protruding elbow or knee, he'd smirk, reveling in his dominance. "See? A personal sunblock application," he whispered, his tone dripping with mock sweetness. "I really am taking good care of you."

But inside Brandon's gut, the heat was relentless. The combination of Brandon's natural body warmth and the scorching sun made for an unbearable sauna. The beach-goer's struggles grew weaker, exhaustion setting in from the oppressive environment and lack of space. But Brandon, seemingly oblivious to the plight of his captive, simply continued to luxuriate in the sun, his body and mind at complete ease.

As the day wore on and the shadows began to lengthen, Brandon felt a rising pressure in his chest, the result of the slow digestive process and the air trapped within. With a casual tilt of his head, he released a deep, resonating burp, the sound echoing slightly in the relative quiet of the late afternoon beach.

"Heh, excuse me," he chuckled, though there wasn’t really anyone around who seemed bothered by the sound. If anything, a couple of beach-goers nearby simply looked over with a mix of amusement and mild surprise.

Brandon's hands, strong and sun-warmed, settled once again on his belly, applying a gentle pressure and kneading it in slow circles. The motion elicited a few more feeble squirms from within, which only made Brandon's smirk grow wider. "You've been quite the companion today," he mused aloud, squeezing the bulge slightly, imagining the increased discomfort it would cause for his involuntary guest. "But all good things must come to an end."

Slowly, with the languid grace of a big cat, Brandon pushed himself to his feet, brushing the sand off his back and legs. He took a moment to stretch, every muscle in his well-defined body flexing and rippling under the sun. He caught sight of a few friends setting up a net for a game of beach volleyball nearby, the ball bouncing in the soft sand.

Grinning, he made his way over, calling out, "Need an extra player?" As he approached, he couldn't resist adding, "I've got a bit of added weight today, so I might be a bit slower," patting his belly with a wink. The laughs and jeers of his friends carried through the air, but deep inside him, the dread of what was to come intensified, as the prospect of a vigorous game of volleyball promised only more jostling and discomfort for the unfortunate beach-goer.

[coconutkay]

what a family

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Picture Day

Tee Higgins x Chase!Reader

Desc: You start getting antsy 5 weeks postpartum and find something to do with your hands.

TW: nothing too bad, mostly fluff.

Princess Ti | Main Masterlist

WC: about 1k

＊✿❀ *. ꕥ * · ❀✿＊

The buzz from your clippers fed your creative soul. You had only come in the salon to reminisce and take some time to yourself while your baby girl naps. You couldn't help but miss the chatter of clientele and the smell of coconut oil usually in the air. The pristine white counters in front of each station were completely bare, only each counter’s handheld hair dryer sticking out of the black cubbies.

Sitting in front of the first station, you think back to when your husband asked you what you really wanted in your home. It was a ballsy ask, in your opinion; you weren’t even sure what he meant by it. But he said you could turn the basement into whatever you wanted. It baffled you because you thought he’d want a man cave to escape the realities of marriage. That’s what your dad did, so you thought it was normal to think so.

So you tossed around the idea of taking on more personal and private clients in a home suite. A month later, he pleasantly surprised you with a fully furnished and functional home salon. It resembled a mini version of your main salon in the city. There is nothing that man wouldn't do for you.

After giving birth, Tee kicked into full dad mode. When he said your only job once Tiana was born was to just take care of her, he did not go back on his word. He's been an absolutely phenomenal father and partner, always taking her when you need a break, making sure you eat and stay hydrated, and even getting up during the night to calm her down. Him and your brother are literally upstairs putting together a new nursery glider so your morning feedings can be cozier.

Maybe that's why you're so antsy. You were so used to always caring for others; now that someone is holding you down the same way, you don't know what to do with yourself. You don't even cook anymore. Your mom has been handling all the meals so you can take time and heal. Everything they were doing was amazing, and you deeply appreciated it, but damn, you were bored.

The sound of your phone buzzing made your train of thought drown.

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

we're done with yo fancy ass chair, come see it while Titi still sleep

sent at 2:23 pm

You thought about going back upstairs for a minute, but a different idea caught your attention.

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

I have a better idea, you bring your wack ass fade to the basement and come sit in my chair😌

read at 2:27 pm

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

arent you supposed to be resting, imma tell momma👎🏾

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

Im offering you a free haircut and you wanna go rat me out😑 don't you have team pictures in a few days👀

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

fine im coming, but when momma finds out I'm blaming you

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea right, just come down here. AND DONT TELL TEE!

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea... a little late for that one😬

read at 2:33 pm

Great, just when you thought you'd be able to do your own thing, your little brother goes and fucks it up before it happens.

Oh well, you shrugged and walked over to the back of the salon for your supplies to set up for Ja'Marr's haircut. You grabbed an apron for you and a barber cape for him (even though you should let him be itchy for threatening to snitch), your black pro clippers, a razor, a number 1 and 2 comb, some holding spray, and a brush. Then, set up your chair.

Minutes later, you were all ready, and your client walked in with your husband.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" He asked with an amused smirk on his face.

"I'm giving my brother the haircut he so desperately needs." You smile back, patting the back of the chair for J to sit down.

"You're supposed to be resting." He crosses his arms as you drape the cape over your brother.

Smirking, you untie your apron and walk up to your husband with your hands on your hips. "Look at me, babe." You slowly spin around to give him an eyeful of your postpartum baby body.

"I see you, mamas. Trust me, I see you." The very nice thing about everyone making sure you take care of yourself these last few weeks has been your ability to prioritize your "snap back." You weren't working out to get to a certain shape. You were just prioritizing strengthening your core, which meant some belly binding, light ab exercises, and self-care. You were nowhere near your pre-baby weight, but you liked the extra curves, and someone else did too.

"You can't just expect me to just sit down and wait for Tiana to wake up. I gotta keep my body active, practice my trade."

He knew you were saying words, but ever since that apron came off, his mind was somewhere else. "Oh, I know how you can get active."

"Alright, y'all just nasty. Am I getting my hair done or what?" Ja'Marr groans from behind you.

"Yea Tee, you gon' let me work or what?" You say, biting your lip.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Fine," he says, pulling a waiting chair over to the corner of your area. The 6-week rule playing over and over in his mind.

"Good, now let's get to work. Don't worry babe, you're next." You chirp, picking up the brush to begin the haircut.

But Ja'Marr jerks his head away. "Ay, Y/n don't go too rough now."

You can't help but snort. "Yes, yes, I know. You too tenderheaded for my skills."

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

~ a/n: yall see what I did there ;) last addition to the au for a while. time to go work on some other fics ♡

[bbunnyyy]

Coconut Pudding.

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader slight E2L >:))))))

A/N: Not proofread. I apologise for any incoherent sentences/ incorrect grammar. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did :)

☁︎ Reader and Shinsou meeting through Aizawa. Aizawa offering reader extra training. ☁︎

Shinsou always rubbed you the wrong way- the both of you snarkily taunting the other every breathing moment you were in each other's presence. It was almost like one of you would bite off the other's head the next instant. Aizawa and Yamada were low-key scared you guys would kill each other one day.

Hitoshi Shinsou. That name was enough to have anger surging through your veins. Everything about him ticked you off- his sarcastic remarks, his cold expression, his stupidity. Each sparring session was tense, Shinsou desperate to prove himself to Eraserhead and get into 1A and you fighting to prove yourself, to prove you deserved your spot in 1A. You and Shinsou got to know each other better whether you liked it or not- you were spending most of your free time with him.

The closer you got, the more time you spent in his presence, the more obvious it was- his bitter and cold demeanour was just an exterior. He was a small fluffy hamster at heart. The distance between you and him that felt like oceans between shores closed before you realised it. Closed by lingering touches and lingering gazes during training. Closed by the softness that seeped into the other's gaze when thinking of the next time you'd meet. In conclusion, He made your heart pound and your cheeks heat up.

Just why?

You asked yourself. Shinsou would be a bitter gourd if someone like you was pudding. You poked your tongue out at the thought, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you walked out the diner all alone. There was a chill in the breeze that made people walk faster than usual, wanting to get back to the warmth of their own homes. Couples were walking hand in hand and kids clung to their parents as the buzz of chatter emptied into silence as they walked past.

You thought about how nice it would be if Shinsou was nicer to you for once. How nice it would be if you could spend time alone with him, How nice it would be if he harboured the same feelings as you did for him, How nice it would be if he liked you- How nice it would be if his love was like Coconut Pudding- sweet. Not overly so. Just right. The kind that makes you melt. The kind that feels refreshing. Oh, how you wished he were with you at this very moment.

☀︎

You tucked your hair behind your ear [sorry to bald readers/ readers without ears] while standing up to leave. The school bell rang five minutes ago, the last of your classmates already gone- eager to get home after the hell of what they called a curriculum UA put them through. Sighing, you started packing your bag. You were late for training. Even thinking about how exhausting training would be was enough to bring tears to your eyes. Looking down at the last few books you needed to stuff into your bag, you thought of Shinsou.

You thought about how you could feel the waves of heat coming off him when he stood closer to you as he helped you with algebra. You thought about how his uniform smelled when it was freshly washed. You thought of how the bruised, red knuckles on his hands looked as he grabbed your hands to lead the way when you were being too slow. You thought of the soft monsoon breeze that slightly ruffled his hair, How his purple eyes looked when he was surprised- like when Sensei kicked him in the stomach which led him to be winded and on his knees hunched over for the next ten minutes.

Sharp snaps brought you back from your melancholic state. Annoyed, you looked at the source of the disturbance. "Earth to Y/N." Shinsou said, now snapping his fingers in your face. Swatting his hand away, you rolled your eyes.

"Piss off." You groaned. "You look like Uraraka's quirk sent you floating all the way to Jupiter. Whatcha thinkin' about?" Shinsou said, now leaning on the desk behind him. His arms flexed as he rested his weight on the wood behind him. "None of your business. If you're dying to know, information costs money. I do miss those macarons from the bakery down that street..." Putting a finger on your chin, you pondered exaggeratedly. Shinsou hummed, "You're late to training." "Right." Inhaling sharply, you looked down at your bag, which was still unpacked. "I'm joking, I'm joking. Sensei cancelled training today. Said something about sorting out legal stuff 'bout Eri."

Before you could get another word out, what Shinsou said next had you staring at him like he had not two, not three but twelve heads. "Now what is it with you and your love for exploring space while staring at someone? If you don't fancy the idea, you can just say so." Shinsou stated, his gaze lowering to the floor but his voice as monotonous as ever. You shook your head, wiping that silly lil expression off your face. "Pff, like I'd say no to free macarons." It was Shinsou's turn to ogle at you- "I didn't say I was paying, I asked you if you could give me company at the cafe if you didn't have any plans."

Shaking your head, you put your hands up. "It's a shame, then. I guess I have no choice but to go home," You pouted. Wordlessly picking up your bag and stuffing the remaining books inside, Shinsou pulled the bag from your hands and slung your bag over his shoulder while walking. You smiled at him happily at his compliance and pulled him out the classroom by his elbow.

Ah, if only you hadn't missed the blush on his face as you walked through the door of the classroom.

[xo-cori]

can you do a dina x sub reader on a first date at some fancy restaurant but dina’s really flirty and touchy and loves making the reader nervous pleasee i need dom dina😵‍💫

magnetic, everything about you

pairing: dina woodward x fem!reader

summary: it’s unlike you to fall for anybody quite this hard. especially not on your first date.

warnings: kissing in public, lots of PDA in general actually, implied dom/sub dynamics

a/n: anon…….. this request changed my life. talking to dina b like uhhh ummm uhhum umm umuh uhhhhh um 😁

You aren’t made nervous easily.

In fact, you can’t remember the last time your cheeks have been this hot, or the last time you’d had this swirling feeling in your stomach, and it’s all because of her low-cut maroon dress and the way her arm hasn’t left your shoulders once after two glasses of wine. Her voice is smooth like honey, deep and sweet, and her smile is nothing short of infectious. She’s so close that you can smell the distinction between her perfume and her shampoo; a mix of roses and coconut that makes your head spin and your heart race.

This is awful, you think. She must be a succubus, or a witchy seductress; one who uses her powers to get what she wants. At this point, you’d be willing to give her anything. Whatever spell she cast is working.

The scenery of the restaurant around you seems to have disappeared. The chandeliers above that cast a warm light, the stained glass windows, all the distant chatter and conversation from tables around you. It seems that nothing matters outside of this booth, tucked away into a quiet corner, thigh-to-thigh with the woman of your dreams. She tells your stories of her friends, her coworkers, her family (mostly her older sister, you notice, they must be close). She makes your mind blank on any stories you could tell in return.

“Turns out, the car was unlocked the whole time anyways, so there was no reason for him to smash the window in the first place!” Dina laughs, and you offer a smile that might be brighter than the sun. Most people wouldn’t joke about their car getting broken into. Dina, though… Dina is different. A good different.

Conversation is easy with her. She could talk for hours and you wouldn’t mind, yet she makes sure to ask you just as many questions and ease you out of your shell. It’s only one of the many reasons you’re so whipped for this woman on your first date.

There’s a pause. A long one, and you would’ve tried to break the silence, but she seems to be studying you. It takes all of your willpower to not shrink under her prying gaze. She looks you up and down, causing you to raise your eyebrows expectantly. “What? Is there something on my face?” You wonder.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, but I think I make you nervous.” Dina says. “It’s not like you’re really trying to hide it.”

This is quite a blow to your self esteem, considering you had been trying to hide it. Very hard, in fact. “Someone’s cocky,” you tilt your head away from her, an attempt to deflect from the embarrassment you feel.

“I’m cocky for a reason!” She brings her free hand to take a gentle grip of your chin, forcing you to look at her. “Your face is all hot. That tends to happen when people are nervous, y’know.”

“Don’t be a smartass!” You exclaim, nervously moving your face from her grip and looking down at your lap.

“But you like it,” she points out. “Look at me.”

Your jaw tenses as you finally look back at her. Her arm, the one that’s around your shoulder, raises a bit so she can smooth out that tension with her hand. That signature smile of hers is still there, and it makes you melt into her touch. “You like it, right?”

After a moment of silence, you nod. “Yeah, actually. Is it obvious?”

“Very.” She says. “It’s cute, though. You’re cute.”

You aren’t sure what to say to this, of course, but you find yourself immediately regretting the first words you can find.

“Kiss me,” you whisper. “Please.”

Her dark eyes widen, and at first, you figured you’ve already fucked this all up; that is, until she scans the room, pleased to find that no one’s being nosy. Little do you know, she’d been waiting for this moment all night.

When she finally kisses you, you can tell. Her hand holds the back of your head while the other wanders to your thigh, securing you into place, though you wouldn’t dream of pulling away. You taste her cherry lipgloss and the red wine that lingers on her tongue. Mindlessly, you grab onto her shoulder, thankful that she wore a strapless dress so that you could feel the smooth skin above her collarbone. You’d do anything to be closer to her. You’d crawl right into her lap if you weren’t in public.

The hand on your thigh wanders up to your waist, flexing against your rib cage, causing you to arch your back and whine as her tongue caresses yours. The simplest of touches, yet your knees turn to jelly beneath you.

Although hesitantly, she’s the first to break away. Her lips are plump and her cheeks dark, which fills you with an odd sense of pride. “Oh, you’ve been wanting that for a while, huh?” She teases.

You just nod your head dumbly, still eyeing her lips, wishing they were still on yours.

“You don’t have any plans after this, do you?” Dina asks with a hopeful tone. Your heart does a flip inside your chest.

“No,” you tell her. “Do you?”

“Unless you wanna leave with me, then no. I don’t.” She shrugs, watching as another wide smile breaks across your face.

You squeeze her shoulder. “I guess we both have plans, then.”

The sparks still haven’t faded. Dina smiles right back at you and you share a quiet laugh, uncaring to those around you, and most definitely uncaring to the fact that you’re gonna be leaving your car in the parking lot for the night. You’re unsure what the night holds, but Dina’s got you wrapped around her finger, and she looks at you like she knows it.

[live-laugh-lenney]

How do you think George & Arthur would react to their girlfriend having an off day and being a bit emotional?

I feel like Arthur especially would be such a sweetheart about it 🥴

ohhh absolutely! he'd be the softest boyfriend. :((((

A R T H U R

arthur has a sixth sense.

he likes to pride himself on knowing when his girlfriend is having a bad day, knowing when his girlfriend feels ill, knowing when she just needs some comfort and some love without her asking for it verbally or delving deep into her feelings. he never goes digging for answers... he always lets her take her time, lets her enjoy the comfort he gives to her, lets her tell him on her own terms.

sometimes, he can tell through her texts.

when she gives him short answers, when she takes a while to send a text back to him, when she misses the 'x' at the end. when she gets to the point, when she's straight with him, not double-texting him... or even triple-texting.

sometimes, though, it's just a gut feeling.

and it's usually around that time of the month where all she wants is to feel warmth, love and comfort from those close to her. knowing that she caves in on herself when she first starts, when she feels the cramps begin, and all she wants is to be looked after without needing to ask him to grab her tampons or pads or sweet treats that she craves. to which he complies, of course.

he doesn't care how silly he looks when he's on the tube, with a bag in his hand that was full with boxes of tampons and pads, alongside an unusual amount of chocolate for one person and paracetamol to help soothe any of her aches and pains. a big bouquet of flowers in his hand that definitely draws attention to himself... but he doesn't seem to care as he stands looking at the floor with his airpods in his ears as he listens to music to pass the time.

and it's time like this where she's glad he had a key to her flat.

because there was no way she was leaving the warmth of her bath to answer the door if he knocked to only get back in moments later with a different feel the water than she had been accustomed to before. knowing that it was him when she heard the jangle of his keys fall in the bowl on the table beside her front door. colliding with the metal of her own keys that lay in the bottom of the wooden bowl.

hearing his footsteps thud around the open plan of her living space, the rustle of a bag being placed down on her kitchen island, hearing him step closer and closer to where her bedroom was. her bedroom door creaking as he steps inside and she was expecting his face to peek around the door to her en-suite.

"only me," he smiles, "had a feeling you'd be in here."

"how do you know i was in?"

"your keys and your shoes by the door," he points his thumb over his shoulder and she mentally facepalms herself for being stupid, "had a feeling you weren't feeling so good today, too."

"been a bit distant, haven't i?"

he steps into the bathroom, hit with the smell of cocoa and coconut from the bubbles in her bath, crouching down beside the tub and resting his forearms on the edge of the ceramic basin she was laid in.

"it's okay," he says softly, "i know you like the back of my hand now."

he dips his fingers into the water and feels how lukewarm it was and she frowns, knowing she'd had to stand up and leave the warmth she was soaking under and find another source of comfort to keep her nice and soothed. to keep her stomach from cramping. to keep her from curling over in aches that seemed to swallow her up whenever she moved.

"brought you some bits, as well," he informs her, standing to his feet and reaching for the towel she had draped over her towel rack, "some chocolate, some tablets, some tampons and that. i don't know if you have some already so... i can always take some back to mine."

she smiles as he stretches the towel out, waiting for her to stand to her feet so he can wrap her up tightly under the cotton, giving her a hug once her teeth start chattering at the chill in the air.

"thank you," she whispers, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, "love you."

"anything for you," he replies and presses his lips to her forehead, "love you, too."

--

G E O R G E

george is oblivious.

but she hid it well, he had to admit.

she stands to her feet during the half-time show of the football game they had on the television, stepping passed the the two arthur's who were sat on the floor and leaning against the sofa and walking passed chris who was sat in the single chair sitting diagonal to the tv, leaving the warmth of george's body heat from where they had taken the sofa so they could lounge together. excusing herself by claiming she was using the toilet before disappearing for the second 45 minutes of the game.

it's only when arthur (hill) mentions that he was getting a numb bum and needed a sofa cushion that george realises she hadn't come back to fill the empty space beside him.

"we're about to watch a film out here, do you want to-"

he cuts his own question off once he sees the human-sized lump curled up underneath his duvet, hand holding the handle of his bedroom door as he pushes it open, his eyebrows furrowing on his browline in confusion.

"babe?"

"hmm?"

"you okay?" his voice comes out in a hushed tone, quiet and almost whispered and he steps into his room, leaving the door ajar, "did i wake you up?"

"no," she responds softly, tucking the duvet tighter around her body and she feels the bed dip beside her as george crawls across the top of the mattress, his arms coming to rest either side of her as his legs straddle her body and his face soon comes into her line of vision, "i'm okay, yeah."

he cocks an eyebrow and she smiles softly.

"i just needed some time to myself," she admits softly, craning her neck to look at him and she's met with the softest pair of eyes looking back at her, "thought i'd leave you lads to watch the football."

"really?"

the way the word lingers on his tongue makes it known to her that he can sense a change in her demeanour and she lets herself relax, her body rolling onto her back and there's a moment where his breath washes over her face and she feels more relaxed than she had done before.

"no but it's silly," she sighs and she mentally scolds herself for how shaky it sounds, "just feeling a little sad, i guess."

"why's that?"

"i don't know," she shrugs and he drops his head to press a kiss to her forehead, "think i'm just feeling all soft. today's been such a nice and comforting day with you guys and tomorrow, it just goes back to me being stressed with work and not seeing you and-"

she lets out a heavy sigh and watches as it catches his fringe.

"i guess i just want every day to be like today," she admits and he tuts at her, "what?"

"you're forgetting i'm your boyfriend. you can see me whenever you want, you silly goose," he leans his weight on one arm and brings his other up so he could cup her face, brushing his thumb against her cheek, "if you want to stay here then you can. the boys won't care. if you want to see me, just say so. you know that."

"i just don't want to be a burden," she says and he shakes his head, "i do, sometimes. i don't want to interrupt time with the guys out there."

"but you come first," he says, "always." xx

[albondiguilla007]

A short Hinny one shot cause I’ve been obsessed with @blvnk-art and the way they draw the pairing. Their Harry and Ginny are beautifully portrayed, so realistic and full of life, and with more chemistry than in the seven movies together. Go look them up, you’ll love their drawings.

“Race you to the Whomping Willow Potter”

“Your ruin Weasley”

Ginny sets off towards the stairs, dropping her bag and spilling all her books over the floor.

“Oi, what about your things!?”

She barely glances at me, continuing to run like a bloody maniac, but I see a hint of a smirk before a wave of red hair hides her face. I chase after her, ignoring the protests and surprised yelps of students walking in the halls as we rush through them.

“It’s a shame you’re still the Quidditch team’s Captain! You’re bloody slow Potter!”

I scoff, skipping the steps of the stairs two by two. I’d answer her, but I’m running low on energy as it is. Fuck, I do need to train more.

Her black robe billows after her, blazing long hair flying against the air coming in from the courtyard as she continues running. The startling blue sky blinds me for a few seconds, and I put a hand against my forehead to protect me against the light. The grass dances with the breeze, emerald green reflecting the rays of sun. My breath is coming in short gasps, but I don’t stop, stubbornly chasing after the sneaky little minx.

She’s ten feet away, sprinting towards the Quidditch Pitch as fast as she’s on air, laughing with mirth. I close the distance between us, five feet, three feet away until she’s at reach.

“Hah, got you”

She wriggles against my arms, groaning when I just tighten them against her waist. “It was a race, not a dare to catch me you idiot”

I laugh in the crook of her neck, smelling her coconut body wash and a hint of something sweet. Maybe a new perfume?

Her skin is smooth as a baby, and I unashamedly rub my nose against it. Ginny elbows my ribs and I let go with a startled yelp.

“You were enjoying that too much Potter”

The corners of her lips curl in a teasing smile, and for a moment I’m struck speechless by how beautiful she is. I’d been so blind, focusing on my best friend’s little sister to realize how fucking stunning she’d become on her own right. Brilliant, harsh and aggressively beautiful, Ginny Weasley was a force of nature.

“Well, you are my girlfriend after all”

She snorts and continues walking backwards, never taking her eyes off me. She has pretty eyes, I realize, almond shaped and a beautiful shade of brown.

The sun illuminates her skin, a jumble of red freckles covering the bridge of her nose and a bit of her cheeks.

“Not if you continue being that slow no, I can’t have my boyfriend embarrass me in front of the whole school”

I smirk with malice, happy to bring her down a peg or two. “Something you’d know about, Miss Eyes Green as Fresh Pickles Toads”

That makes her stumble, and I take the chance to close the gap between us and wrap a hand around her neck, warm with embarrassment under my fingers. Her lips are soft, and all that attitude vanishes in a second as she sighs against my lips, curling her hands around the lapels of my uniform. The low murmur of students chattering inside the castle reaches my ears, the cheerful tune of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves in the border of the Forbidden Forest.

I feel Ginny’s lips curve in a smile and I can’t help smiling back, even as we break apart and I rest my forehead against hers, breaths mingling together.