#coconut chatters

[coconutkay]

pleeeeease boop me im literally

[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.

[quechingada]

i’m a fan of a coconut beverage every now and then it’s true… esp if it has coconut bits in there… i like to chew my drinks

[weeping-willowz]

Euhhhhh what s with the new DA update

[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.”

[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.

[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

[coconutkay]

what a family

[mmkin]

get you some arlong

Snippet from the Arlong x Reader fic I am working on rn. (Still working on the title... or maybe I should just call it 'get you some arlong' lol) Enjoy this little treat, fellow Arlong and OP fans. You gulp down the rest of your drink, feeling the burn as it slides down your throat and tasting the notes of coconut and tangerine. For a moment, you look down at the glass, seeing the light reflected through its various facets, a touch of light brown at the bottom from the last drops of rum. Such a mundane thing to notice when there are far more pertinent matters that come to mind.

“More?” Arlong asked, lifting the bottle. You look up at him, at that row of shark teeth ensconced firmly behind the impressive sawnose that is but one of the many things that add to this pirate’s fearsome reputation. You remember the first time you laid eyes upon him in person. He was not the tallest fishman you’d ever seen, but by god, he was the most impressive. All muscles and angles and points in what seems like a perfect combination, seated in a bulk that most anyone would have good reason to be cautious around.

Despite being conscious of all that, you had also become keenly aware of your attraction to him. What might his body feel like, pressed against your own? These big, strong arms wrapped around you? Would he let you run your finger lightly along the serrated edge of his nose?

“Y/n, do you want more?” he asks in a slightly louder tone, thinking you did not hear him above the music. Your gaze fixes upon his.

“What I want is you,” you say quietly, the words sliding past your tongue. The hand holding the bottle goes still, as does the rest of him, for a moment. You fear that you have made a gross miscalculation, that his stillness is one of horror or disgust. Already, your mind is formulating apologies, finding a way to try to backpedal and try to salvage whatever respect this sawnose shark fishman had for you. One did not earn his respect so easily, and it honestly grieves you to think you might have lost that.

His lips pull back to reveal the rows of teeth that bring terror to many. There is a glint in his pale blue eyes as he leans forward, his face drawing close to yours, though the tip of his nose is still a few inches away. Your gaze darts down its length before looking back in his eyes. The chatter of fishmen talking or splashing around, the music, the waves all seem to fade away in the background.

His tongue slides past the serrated teeth, running slowly along his upper lip as the corners of his mouth curl up into what is unmistakably a hungry grin. (Edit - the rest of the story is now available for your reading pleasure on my AO3 here...)

[jcsontodd]

Dad always asks what i do to my hair and if i curl it and i'm like,,,no?

[miguelswifey04]

can you do an african american reader w/ miguel? specifically a cultural one :))

love ur work btw!!!

YES OF COURSE!! though this will be from my perspective since i am both african american and mexican so i hope you still enjoy this <3

miguel o’hara x african american! reader

pure fluff; meeting your dad’s side of the family

miguel has always been culturally inclined to learn more about you and your culture since he found it appropriate to get to know every single aspect of you. yes, you were pretty and intelligent but he felt that if he could get to know your cultural background, you both could feel more interconnected. miguel always made sure to make you feel extra loved and did quite literally everything for you without you having to lift a finger. you pretty much got that princess treatment going on for yourself and you couldn’t be more thankful to the universe.

he’d compliment the way you curls fell on your face to the amazing smell of coconut oil that you’d put on your scalp to keep your kinky hair healthy. he admires every little thing about you. you’re perfect under his eyes, and he will always make it known. your connection is with miguel is a pure and sacred one. you’ve never felt more loved than by a man like miguel.

as you introduce miguel, your boyfriend, to your dad's side of the family at the cookout, the warm embrace of loved ones and the joyful chatter of conversation fills the air. the scent of grilled food and the vibrant colors of the gathering create a lively atmosphere.

miguel takes in the scene, observing the vibrant energy that fills the space. he feels a mixture of excitement and nervousness, wanting to make a good impression and show his genuine interest in your family and cultural background.

as you lead miguel through the gathering, you introduce him to each family member, highlighting the unique and diverse personalities that make up your dad's side of the family. miguel greets everyone with a warm smile and extends a genuine hand of friendship, eager to connect with each individual.

the older generations welcome miguel with open arms, sharing stories of their own experiences and embracing him as if he were their own. they appreciate his respectful demeanor, his curiosity, and his genuine effort to understand and appreciate their culture and traditions.

the younger cousins and siblings become instantly intrigued by miguel’s presence. they swarm around him excitedly, asking questions and sharing their own interests. miguel’s natural charm and wit shine through as he engages with them, laughing and joking, fostering a bond that transcends age.

throughout the day, miguel becomes immersed in the lively conversations, taking part in the rhythm of laughter and storytelling. he savors each bite of the delicious traditional dishes served, eager to experience and appreciate the flavors that hold deep cultural significance to your family.

while miguel may initially have felt some apprehension, witnessing the love and warmth that radiates from your family reassures him. the love they shower upon you pours over onto him, welcoming him into their embrace without hesitation. he feels the bond of family strengthening between him and your loved ones.

as the sun begins to set and the joyful festivities wind down, miguel takes a moment to reflect on the significance of this day. he realizes the privilege of being welcomed into your family, the rich tapestry of culture and history that is now a part of his own story.

with a deep sense of gratitude, mage knows that his connection with your family is not just about the present but also about the future. the bond he forms with your dad's side of the family shapes the foundation of a love built on acceptance, celebration of diversity, and the joy of shared experiences.

tags 🏷️; @kairiscorner @sabcandoit @meeom @emiemiemiii

[abibliophobiaa]

For Steve's birthday blurbs: Hammock

happy birthday, steve harrington. nothing but fluff here. s.h. x f!reader. (500 words)

-

An array of ruby reds, burnt oranges, sunflower yellows, and blush pinks paint the sky above you.

Your hammock rocks slowly, a gentle push of your foot dangling over the edge.

Dappled golden light dances across your skin, like a kiss from the sunset, winking through the gently swaying canopy of leaves up above.

In your hands, there’s a tattered book. Darkening pages, aged by time and dust. Dented corners, furling edges, lines etched into a broken spine.

The words swirl together in a sleepy rush, head hazy from hours spent worshiping the sun. Hours spent lounging by the pool, letting the cool water dance along your flesh, leaving welcome gooseflesh in its wake. All to take away the heat of humid summer air.

Lower, against the steady rise and fall of your chest, Steve slumbers. Head against the thrum of your heart beneath your sternum, warm skin against yours.

Those familiar broad fingers curl around you in a loose splay, digits stretching wide over your hip, the cherry red string of your bikini bottom between his index and middle finger.

On every inhale, if you lean in closer and nuzzle the crown of his head, you can smell the lingering vanilla of his shampoo. The hint of his hairspray. The coconut sunblock he meticulously layered on the both of you earlier, melding together with the musk of his sweat after a rowdy game of basketball out front with Eddie and the kids.

And in the distance, there’s the gentle chatter of birdsong in the trees. The hum of a lawnmower next door. Laughter from the kids in the pool, their hands and feet slashing through the water. The smell of burgers and hotdogs cooking away, the smoke trailing closer and closer to you, tempting you from the cradle of the fabric surrounding you.

Eddie yells from where he stands by the grill for everyone’s food orders. Calls them shitheads when they ignore him at first.

Steve stirs against your chest, palm coming to slide over the expanse of his face. A low hum brushes against your sternum, a puff of hot air as he lets out a yawn.

There’s the press of his mouth against the curve of your breast peeking out from your bikini top, against the corner of your jaw, your forehead, and, finally, blessedly, your lips.

“Mmm. Tired. Sorry, baby,” he groans, dropping back down against you. “Fell asleep.”

Your book thumps against the grass beneath you. You tangle your arms around Steve’s wide shoulders, fingers coming up to rest in the long strands at the back of his head. He slots his thighs between yours, his hazel eyes fluttering closed once more as his nose slides down the line of yours.

“Five more minutes?”

You smile against his forehead, letting his head rest against your collarbone. “Five more minutes, and then I think there’s a burger calling both our names. How does that sound, love?”

“Sounds good, honey,” he says through another yawn, kissing your sun-heated skin.

-