#instant mood lift

[finalwoman]

that all the while my mouth was saying go! my heart was screaming no! no! no!!! turn around and look at me, you'll find me on my knees, saying please... please!

[lunarheslwt]

Golden truly is that bitch!!! No one like her!! Harry put crack in that song fr that's my baby!!!!!!!!

[joyridingmp3]

ok but you can literally never underestimate the power of a good conversation and a great song

[deliciouskeys]

Self-care is buying really cheap possibly age inappropriate shoes

18 USD at Primark. Sorry not advertising for them. Just like… amazed and happy.

[saetoshis]

listening to the haikyu s1 ost heals the soul 💓

[pilvimarja]

My Tarot for the day is filling me with such good vibes! ✨️✨️✨️

[carcinized]

danger days by mcr my WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD 💞💕💓💖💘💝

[daffodilsfortomorrow]

......

[cosmicdreamt]

[[ Sometimes even just a call for an hour with one of your besties while being stupid in a chill game is all it takes to have a happier moment in life :’> ]]

[thesongoficeandfir3]

The coronation

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Wife!reader

AU where the blacks won

Warnings: none, just Jace and his wife reader being cute before his coronation

You make your way down the long corridor of the Red Keep’s ancient castle halls, your steps echoes loudly off the stone walls and floor. You soon approach heavy oak door where two knights stand and upon seeing you they immediately pull the large doors open. When you walk in you are met with a scene that takes your breath away. There in the center of the room your husband Jacaerys stands, dressed in a long, heavy, and expensive red and black regalia, fit for a king.

When you entered the room you were met with the back of him standing still. He was surrounded by several maidservants who are busy adjusting and fastening every piece of his attire, ensuring they fit perfectly for this very crucial day. There are large glass windows in the room and the bright morning light cast a glow on Jacaerys who stands in the center as if the gods themselves are casting their blessings on him for this important day.

His red and black robes are a vision of opulence and power. The material is thick and heavy, a velvety red silk that drapes him gracefully. Sewn into the sleeves, are subtle but intricate designs of sea horses and dragons, to represent both of his houses, each carefully crafted out of shimmering black thread. The back of the robe is longer than the front, pooling on the ground behind him in a dramatic train.

Your own gown had matched Jace’s, something Jace was very insistent on when it came to the designs of them. You are not sure when it started, but sometime during the first year of your marriage you found a lot of your and Jace’s outfits subtly match whether it was a big occasion or not. Your gown though less elaborate than your husband's, it still a vision of beauty fitted perfectly for a queen.

As you silently stand behind him, he meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror he’s standing in front. A small smile dances across his lips and his dark eyes glitter with affection. It's the same look he gives you every morning when he kisses you awake.

Jacaerys holds up a hand, the gesture causing the maidservants to stop their movements in an instant. "That's enough," he says, his deep voice firm and commanding. "You may leave us."

They curtsey quickly and walk away, shutting the door behind them. Once they are gone, keeping your back straight as much as you could and your head bowing low you curtsey.

“My king.” you say with a teasing grin.

“Stop that.” he playfully rolls his eyes walking over to you. He places a hand on your chin with a tender touch, lifting your head and gesturing for you to stand.

“You look ethereal.” you whisper out, looking into his dark brown eyes with nothing but love and admiration.

“As do you my issa prūmia.” he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Are you nervous?” you ask.

He moves his hands down from your face to holding your hands squeezing them slightly.

“Just a little.” he answers, his shoulder dropping not realizing he was tense the entire time.

You notice this and move one of your hands to caress his cheek to help calm him.

“You should not be, your grandsire and mother were wonderful rulers and they passed everything they know on to you, so I have no doubt you will be just as good.”

He nods leaning into your touch, the warmth of your words and touch calming him a little, but still a small part of him is nervous.

“So does this mean from now on I have to bow when I enter every room you are in.” you tease hoping to lighten the mood.

“Hmm,” he pauses for a moment pretending to think. He then leans in slightly. “Yes, I think you will have to bow before me….Every…..Single……..Time. He says each word deliberately slow meeting your teasing banter

“Oh?“ you quirk and eyebrow feigning surprise. “Does that mean I must always call you my king as well?” you lean in closer causing your lips to be mere inches apart.

“Of course my darling,” he says reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear being very careful not to mess with the elaborate hair do, his fingers then trail along your jawline “I am your king, after all.” He smirks down at you.

“And I am your queen” your eyes had yet to leave his during your entire conversation.

“And a beautiful queen you are.” he presses his lips to yours lingering for a few moments before pulling away.

“And your child and rightful heir.“ you take his hand pressing it to your growing pregnant belly.

Jaceaeyrs feels a rush of emotion at the feeling of your belly under his palm, his eyes drifting down to where your hands meet before looking back up at you, His expression softens further. “Our child” he corrects a protective hand still resting on your stomach.

Your heart swells, though such a small gesture you can’t help but feel emotional that he said ‘our’ instead of his.

He suddenly kneels before you his fingers splaying on the swell of your stomach gently kissing it before resting his forehead on it.

“Our future king or queen.” He whispers out.

Your breath hitches at his unexpected action.

“J-Jace,” you stutter out. “This is unbecoming you are to be king” you say feeling extremely flustered.

He chuckles the sound deep and rich.

“Out there I am, but in here with you I am just a man who loves his wife and unborn child dearly” he plants one more kiss on your bump before standing. He places his hands on your hips bringing you close once more.

You reach out and grab the livery collar, each piece being one of the kingdom’s house sigil. You carefully place it over his shoulder before fastening the last button of the robe and smoothing a hand over his chest.

“Now then, let us get you to your coronation.” You smile

“As you command my queen.”

[thejeangreysummers]

slow burn // retired // roomate !! simon "ghost"riley

- his self preservation and self control hangs by a string around you

- some fireworks after the fourth of july give him greater incentive to hate america, the sweltering heat, and the near altercation he gets into with your lecherous older neighbor in the building who puts his hand on the small of your back in the elevator. he recognizes the way you flinch, the way you nearly drop the grocery bag you insisted on carrying. the way you already react to small spaces already make you suck on bottom lip in discomfort.

simon riley has left the building and ghost emerges as he’s about to shove the old man out the elevator. in an instant you’re pulling him by the wrist, muttering that his death is coming to him already, he’s practically senile.

the rest of the week he’s in a foul mood, smoking out his bedroom window, sulking, and unable to sleep. cycling between self loathing, and an urge to protect you. he knows that you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but you shouldn’t have to always to do everything alone. yet he knows he’s not the kind of man you deserve anyhow.

- he starts calling you angel

after you leave him this note in your colorful script: “sometimes when my week goes to shit, cake for breakfast tends to sort everything out.” beside the angel cake with pale blue icing.

the dust settles after that, he knows he hasn’t scared you away.

- after your overachieving performance at work he makes your favorite meal. when you ask if it’s a family recipe his laughter is bitter. you recognize his hurt as your own, tell him you don’t answer calls from your folks either. he almost tells you about his asshole father, the grief of wanting to call tommy from beyond the grave, the absence of a mother. but, he doesn’t want to open old wounds- he’d rather be with you.

so instead he plays your favorite film on dvd because even if he’s trying to change, he hates flicking through all the streaming services on your tv. when you try to grab the dvd case with “sticky fingers” he hangs his arm over the couch out of reach. when you clamber over his body in protest, he holds his breath trying to keep his cock from expressing all his bone deep desire for you to stay on top him. you tuck a cushion under his neck and because you’re trying to kill him you ask if you can lie on top of him.

if it was anyone else he would’ve registered it to be suggestive but you’re adorable as you lie on top of him limbs spread out focused on the tv, kicking your feet during your favorite scenes.

- you fall asleep on his chest exhausted from the long hours, softly snoring, making little gasps for air as you sleep. and he can’t love you, because you deserve more than we he can offer. but you’re so sweet when your sleeping he gently twirls the ends of your hair between his forefinger and thumb. when the credits roll the music stirs you, pressing yourself into him before you realize where you are.

simon’s too drunk on you to be apologetic muttering something about how soft your hair is. you lift your head up and ask half asleep, “do you have any hair?”

he laughs enough for you to realize how out of place you must seem. you push yourself up embarrassed, wiping drool from the corner of your mouth prepared to apologize for assuming or prying, and using his body as a pillow.

because simon is falling in love with you in a way that makes him stupid, he tugs off his mask in a fluid motion.

you study his face with open eagerness. you don’t flinch, you don’t look surprised, and your eyes aren’t a filled with pity. instead you reach for his hair and hesitate until he nudges his head into your hand like cat waiting to be petted. you play with his hair, trace his jaw, and stare at his mouth.

“you’re such a pretty boy.”

you say it almost under your breath. and he feels eighteen years old with a crush. he doesn’t feel like a man hardened by the anguish he’s seen, he feels so young in your arms.

he wants to kiss you ask for for more than your mouth, ask for your heart, ask for you to stay in this apartment forever. he doesn’t. he throws you over his shoulder and you’re off balance with wanting. when he gently drops you into your bed, returns to the door and wishes you a good rest as he shuts your door you feel a little empty.

- the next morning he’s wearing his mask again watching football on the couch, muttering something to you about fresh orange waiting for you with the breakfast he made.

this is a prequel for this fic:

[mariasont]

GOOD LUCK CHARM - A.H

a/n: this came to me yesterday and i sat my ass down and WROTE

that should be me fr

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: reader is gone for the morning and leaves hotch a couple sticky notes

warnings: just my babies being so infatuated with each other it literally hurts, hotch is a pining fool, i love him, i need him, i want to kidnap him to my basement

wc: 0.8k

Hotch was having a rough day. He had never put much stock in the idea of luck, favoring the belief that a path was carved from the choices made. However, if he were to entertain the notion of luck, he would concede that today, he seemed to be rather out of it.

A lot had gone wrong. For starters, he had stained his favorite white dress shirt with coffee this morning. This undoubtedly set the precedent for the day, he was sure.

As soon as he arrived at his office, he was greeted not by the familiar click of the lock but by a stubborn door that refused to budge, his key sitting on the side table in his apartment. This then led to him reaching out to the custodian for a spare, only to be intercepted by Chief Strauss, who, in her usual fashion, had a litany of critiques ready for the BAU.

The day had been steadily unraveling, and the realization that you wouldn't be in until lunch because of a doctor's appointment was the tipping point. Normally, all these minor irritations could be overlooked, but in your absence, he could truly grasp just how much he relied on you.

You handled a lot on his plate, if not everything. You planned out his schedule, answered his phone calls, you double-checked his paperwork. You consistently shouldered more than he ever asked, despite his repeated warnings about overloading yourself--warnings that he, admittedly, never listened to.

Time seemed to crawl at a snail's pace. He found himself unwittingly watching the door, anticipating the bright burst of pink and the shimmer that accompanied you, but unfortunately that did not happen. Lunch couldn't come quick enough.

His vision began to waver, the words on the page melting into an indecipherable stew as he pressed a long finger into his temples. The lamp at the edge of the desk flickered capriciously. A mental note to replace it was quickly overshadowed by the more pressing need for an aspirin, prompting him to reach for the left drawer.

His eyes widened imperceptibly, fingers reaching into the space as he pulled the flimsy object from the drawer. It was a hot pink sticky note, its surface alive with glittery ink, smiley faces, and hearts. The corners of his mouth lifted, the tension in his back easing just a hair.

Aspirin isn't in this drawer silly! First one to your right! And don't take more than 2, okay? Between that and your scotch drinking habits your liver is screaming!!!!

He couldn't suppress the laughter that rumbled through him as he pressed the note to his desk. He turned to the drawer on his right, pulling it open to find, much to his satisfaction, the aspirin. Attached to it was yet another sticky note.

You found it!! So proud!! Hope your day is going amazingly! Don't miss me too much! :)

His heart thumped louder in his chest, a wave of heat blossoming across his neck as he carefully folded the sticky notes, tucking them into the pocket of his suit jacket.

When you finally came ambling into the office--your ponytail swaying, a pink ribbon securing it in place--he felt an instant lift in his mood. His jaw relaxed, fingers instinctively straightening his tie--a needless act but one that gave him a moment to admire you. You looked beautiful. You always did, but as he fingered the note in his pocket, he could feel his chest constrict just looking at you.

"Hi there, Mr. Boss Man," you sang out, voice as sweet as syrup as you glided towards him with an ease that defied that height of your heels. "The office didn't burn down without me, did it?"

"It came close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," you giggled, the bracelets on your arms tinkling like wind chimes as you wrapped them around your notebook. "You look stressed. Are you stressed?"

"I'm fine, just a headache." He paused, his hand absentmindedly reaching again for the sticky note. "How was your doctor's appointment?"

"Squeaky clean bill of health." You beamed at him, shifting your weight to your toes. "Did you see my note?"

"I did. Thank you." A grin was vying for control of his features while his hand found its way to his neck, pressing lightly in a vain effort to steady his racing pulse.

"You're so very welcome," you chimed, sending him a smile that nearly made the air evaporate from his lungs. "Also, I fixed a couple issues in your calendar, and I ordered you a new lamp, I noticed yours was broken. I hope that's okay."

More than okay. You were perfect. If he were a man who believed in luck, he would be inclined to think you might be his good luck charm.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[maruflix]

  — ★ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓!

☆ — “WHOA, I’M REALLY GOING AGAINST THE UMEMIYA HAJIME IN HIS FULL GET UP? COAT AND ALL?”

SYNOPSIS: You spend too much time on TikTok looking at those martial artists who give out fighting tutorials. And what’s a gang member boyfriend for, if not as a punching bag for you to try out your new moves? FEATURING: Umemiya Hajime, Togame Jo, Takiishi Chika x f!reader

UMEMIYA HAJIME

The rooftop door is slammed wide open, causing UMEMIYA HAJIME to jump slightly in alarm. He angles his neck to check out the source of the noise, fully expecting it to be Sakura in another one of his bad moods, but it turns out to be you.

A smile blossoms on his face as he gestures for you to come over. “Heeey, my pretty girl!” 

You’re in front of him in an instant, looking at him intently. Umemiya blinks, confused. He can tell that you’re trying hard not to explode with excitement, but why?

“Hajime!” You point at your boyfriend, determined, “Fight me!”

A long silence follows. He bites his lip and tilts his head, trying to figure out if he heard that correctly. The Bofurin leader has received his fair share of challenges and offers for a duel, but never from his own girlfriend. “Um… wha-?”

“I said, fight me!” You yell out, a smile plastered on your face. “My sensei says that the best way to learn is by doing!”

“Since when do you have a sensei?”

“Well, my TikTok sensei.” You casually shrug as Umemiya stares at you in amusement. “Anyway! I have mastered the art of a 540 kick, and you shall be the first person to witness my glory!”

After practicing messily in your room and hitting your foot in all the sharp edges of your furniture, you feel like you’ve finally perfected your flashy jump kick. It took you perhaps hundreds of tries (mostly ending up with you tripping or falling down) but you finally manage to land a successful hit against your plush toy.

Umemiya whistles. “540 kick, huh? That’s fancy.” He sets down the pot of plants he has been holding while grabbing his coat in one swift motion. “Alright, come at me.” He smiles, getting into a very intimidating stance.

You gulp, not expecting him to actually take you seriously. Your boyfriend still gazes at you with the same gentle look as always, but man is he intimidating. “Whoa, I’m really going against the Umemiya Hajime in his full get up? Coat and all?”

At this, Umemiya chuckles. “Well, it’s not like everyday my girlfriend challenges me to a duel! I have to make sure to humor her thoroughly, right? Don’t worry, I won’t fight back.”

“Okay! Wait! I have to do my warm ups so this one will land! I’ll tell you when I’m done!” You hold up a finger, gesturing for him to wait as you kick at the air, trying to power up your legs. Umemiya watches in interest, his hands folded behind his back, letting out occasional “ooh!” and “aah!”s when you successfully kick high enough. 

You feel quite ready now, your legs feel as light as a feather. Glancing at Umemiya, who’s still watching you intently, an idea flashes through your mind. You know that there’s no way in hell you will be able to beat Umemiya in a fight, but what if you catch him by surprise?

Without notice, you quickly take a step forward and immediately rotate your hips, taking advantage of the momentum it gave you to lift up your other leg and kick it upwards. It feels good when your leg manages to fly up high enough to collide with your boyfriend’s torso… but the impact never came.

Umemiya holds your leg effortlessly before it can come into contact with the side of his chest, giving you a wide smile. “Not bad, you’re pretty flexible! But you didn’t tell me that we’re starting!”

“L-let go!” Flustered, you try to retract your leg but Umemiya keeps it in his vice-like grip.

“Huh? But our fight’s not over yet?” He cocks his head to the side, giving you a playful grin. “If I let go, won’t you try another dirty trick again?”

This man! You try to jab at him in the hopes of him letting go of your leg, but he dodges your fist. “All’s fair in love and war, Hajime!” You swirl your body backwards, trying to pivot your way out of his grip, but Umemiya pulls your leg forward slightly, causing you to stumble. You yelp, closing your eyes, knowing that you’ve lost your balance and you would certainly crash to the ground.

But of course, Umemiya catches you, pulling you into his embrace as he caresses your hair. He laughs in satisfaction when he sees you turn as red as the tomatoes he’s been growing. “You’d make a pretty good fighter! Do you want me to train you?”

“You can’t pull my leg like that! You’re cheating!” You protest, but he merely laughs harder.

“All’s fair in love and war, pretty girl.”

You hide your face in his chest, feeling the tips of your ears burning. You can’t lie, you had wished to successfully kick Bofurin’s strongest at least once after all that training, but being held like this isn’t half bad.

“One more time! I’ll kick you this time!”

TOGAME JO

Not a single thing in this world can prepare TOGAME JO for the absolute sight in front of him at this very moment. With a bottle of ramune in his hand, he stares at you open mouthed as you crouch down and jab at the air randomly, jumping up and down all around him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here we have,” You punch the air next to him while your boyfriend remains unaffected, “a new challenger trying to take the title of Super Champion from the reigning Togame Jo!” You are breathing heavily as you narrate, still jumping up and down, trying your best to replicate those boxers you saw from a highlight video last night.

You’re actually not a big fan of martial arts with flashy moves and big kicks because you thought they looked too showy, but that one highlight video has opened your eyes to the beautiful world of boxing, as you spent all night looking at more and more fighting videos. The fighters look hella cool and their punches look hella deadly. No big showy moves, just precision and killing intent.

“What champion..?” Togame has so many questions running inside his head right now, but he’s distracted at how adorable you look with those weak punches.

You finally stop jumping, huffing to catch your breath, “W-well.. I know you’re technically the second-in-command, but you’re like a champion compared to me!” You put up your fists again, eyes shining playfully, “Anyway, let’s brawl!”

Togame’s jaw drops. “Did you just say brawl?” He runs a hand through his hair, already exhausted by your antics, “As in, you and me?”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean!?” Taking offense in his words, you punch his chest, but your boyfriend doesn’t even flinch. “Yes, you and me! I’m trying to be the next boxing super champion, keep up!”

Togame sighs, finally putting two and two together. You had sent him random links of boxing videos to him all night, waking him up repeatedly. So it’s because of another random hyperfixation. “Yeees, yeees..” He places his ramune bottle on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t complain to me if you get hurt.”

You shiver a bit at his warning. What the heck is that supposed to mean!? You watch as Togame cracks his neck, now feeling a bit scared. “Uh, you know that you don’t have to actually fight me, right? Like… let me land a few hits or something..?!”

Togame stares at you teasingly. “Don’t tell me I managed to intimidate you already?”

You’ve always had a competitive streak in you. You know that it’s going to be the death of you. “HELL NO! Come at me!” You shout without thinking, and instantly let out another scream in terror when your boyfriend dashes towards you with the speed of light.

“JO!” You yell, just in time before he can push you down. “That doesn’t count! I was, like, totally not ready! Doofus! Idiot!”

Togame snickers. You totally flinched. And hey, he’s actually enjoying this a lot more than he thought he will. “Okay, okay, you go first then.” He holds up his hand in mock surrender.

At that moment, you want nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off his face. You charge at him with newfound confidence, punching and jabbing with all your might. He dodges you each time, even making sure to use the palm of his hands so as not to hurt you.

“Okaay, you need to move faster. Don’t punch in the same two spots~”

Annoyed, you step back, trying to think of a way to give him a single powerful punch. Getting an idea, you finally take a step forward as Togame watches you in interest. After feeling your entire weight rest comfortably on your left foot, you pivot your body towards him, feeling the force gather in your right fist. Oh? That felt good.

This time, Togame catches your fist with his hand, gripping it tight. “Hoo~? That one’s pretty good~” He muses, “Is it my turn now?”

Your boyfriend has the most annoying shit-eating grin as he tackles you down, holding an arm below your body to shield you from the impact. Nevertheless, it knocks the air out of your lungs as you gasp, hands shooting forward to grip the hem of his jacket.

Togame looks down at you, a sadistic look in his eyes. “Oops, looks like today’s not your day. Better luck next time, future super champion~”

Blushing at the close proximity between you two, you can only sputter out insults as your boyfriend laughs.

He’s totally going to make you do this more often.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

Honestly, you don’t know how you even got the courage to challenge TAKIISHI CHIKA in a fight. It is for the laughs and giggles, yes, but since when has your stoic boyfriend been able to differentiate between a joke and a real challenge?

“Okay, come.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. You’ve tried many times to get him to do weird trends with you, but your boyfriend is usually quiet, only looking at you with the stare he always gives you when he’s done with your bullshit. (If you beg for it hard enough, he still does it, though.) 

But this time, when you tell him that you want to try out a kick at him after watching tutorials from those TikTok martial artists, you’re just saying it randomly, because there’s no way you actually wish to challenge The Strongest Man in Furin History in a fight. Surprisingly, he agrees immediately.

“R.. really? B-but…” You hesitate, unsure of the look he’s giving you right now. As stoic as he may look, there’s an unmistakable glint in his eye, something that only happens when he’s intrigued by something. “Chi-kun, you don’t love me anymore, do you?!” You yell in exasperation, wondering if today is going to be your last day on earth. Why would you even suggest such a thing towards your beast of a boyfriend?!

“Do you seriously think I’m going to hurt you?” Takiishi asks in a resigned voice.

“Okay, you promised! Don’t go back on your word!” You’re still panicking but your boyfriend returns to his quiet self, blinking at you. Sighing, you decide to take a leap of faith — your boyfriend has never so much as pushed you in the time you’ve been together — and take huge strides towards him, heart beating out of your ribcage. 

Takiishi towers over you, looking at you calmly, but his gaze only makes you more nervous. “Come.” He states once more when he sees that you’re still rooted to your spot. “I’ll keep my hands behind my back.”

Huffing, you decide to fuck it and take a big swing at him. He dodges to the side. You take another swing. He dodges that too. Another swing, another punch, but he dodges those as well, his hair barely swishing. He shows no signs of moving, patiently standing with his hands behind his back. At this, your courage grows and you decide to try riskier moves.

You lift up your leg and shoot it towards his hip. To your surprise, he doesn’t move an inch, taking your kick fully. Boy, does it hurt. For your leg, that is. The man is well-built underneath his layered clothes. There’s another glint in his eye when he watches you yelp in pain and crouch down to clutch your leg, your back facing him. 

“Come.” He says again, and you don’t need to be told twice. Still with your back facing him, you rise to a standing position and lift your leg high up before kicking it back towards him.

But your foot comes into contact with the air.

The next thing you know, Takiishi sweeps your footing, catching you as you fall straight into his arms. You look up at him, eyes wide and heart beating like crazy, but your breath instantly gets caught in your throat when you see a rare small smile playing on his lips. “Never turn your back on the enemy.” He states, tightening his grip around your waist.

This is the most chatty you’ve seen Takiishi Chika. And, true to his words, he doesn’t use his hands at all, except for catching you. You slowly start to smile, hooking your hands around his neck. You’re about to tease him that he does love you, after all, when he unexpectedly asks, “So, can I use my hands next time?”

“H-huh!? There’s a next time?!”

NOTES : This may be a bit OOC (especially Chika because the man barely says anything in the manga) but still I hope I can convey the love I have for these boys!! (these three are my favorite hee hee).

[darnell-la]

Logan smut w/ a partner playing “hard to get”

Like pretending not to be in the mood as if she isn’t soaking wet for him

note: needy Logan Howlett y’all… Can’t get enough of him!

———

“C’mere, bub,” Logan spoke into y/n’s neck as he pulled her closer to him. Y/n groaned under her breath, softly elbowing his chest as she kept moving her ass up against his crotch.

“Baby, stop that,” Logan giggled in her neck as he grabbed her waist tightly, making her hips move how he wanted them to. “Got me so hard, I can’t even go to sleep,” Logan whispered.

“Logan, not right now. Tryna sleep,” y/n whined, keeping her eyes closed as his clothes cock rubbed on her ass cheek. Wearing a thing to bed was a routine when she wanted to tease him.

“C’mon, baby, don’t be like that tonight. I’m hurtin,” he admitted, feeling his cock harder with a leaky tip. She’s been moving around in bed for the last ten minutes, and though she does this a lot, he always thinks it’s not on purpose.

“I’m tired, Logan,” Y/n said as she stopped moving her hips. “Okay, okay, baby,” Logan felt let down, but stayed spooning her, hoping the list that built would go away over time.

After lying for maybe thirty minutes, he couldn’t help himself. It’s been too long, and he felt a bit of pain. He needed to at least stick it in.

Logan slowly and quietly pulled Y/n’s thong to the side, lifting his head up to make sure she was still asleep, and she was. So he thought.

The man grabbed his cock and shifted in bed until his tip lined up either heat. The man let out a slow groan, feeling better steady, but he needed more.

Logan pushed through the tight folds, struggled since her legs were closed, but made it through. “Fuck,” the man let out as he began moving his hips.

“Oh my his, Logan!” Y/n faked being upset as one hand gripped her waist and the other stroked the top of her head. “Ssh, baby — Just quick. Already gif me so close,” the man whispered as she pushed at his stomach.

“I said I was tired, Logan,” y/n said, barely using her strength. She always felt good when he slipped into her in the middle of the night. Her cunt would clench him in an instant.

“Baby, you know I can’t resist it. So fuckin’ tight and wet. I can smell you. Every night I fuckin’ smell your sweet juice,” the man spoke in her neck before giving her sloppy kisses.

Logan used the hand on her waist to pull her into his thrusts, causing small claps to come from under the covers.

“C’mon, just give me one, baby. One little orgasm and I’ll be done,” the man said, knowing his girl doesn’t like to wet the sheets. He’ll rub a dry one out of her.

“Spread 'em, baby,” Logan’s hand traveled down to her heat, trying to squeeze through her thighs. “I’m tired,” y/n tried saying without a whine, but failed. He felt amazing.

“Baby, open your legs,” Logan said in a more demanding tone. He loves his girl, but what he says goes, and right now, she isn’t listening.

“Mm mhm,” y/n shook her head, wanting him to take her organs from her. “Fuckin’ hell,” the man cussed as he parted her leg by himself and began rubbing at her bud harshly.

“Don’t know if it’s because you’re half in your sleep, but you fuckin’ listen when I tell you something, bub,” Logan said, now tugging on her hair he was just stroking.

“If I wanna fill this cunt before I sleep, ima fill it, do you understand?” The man asked her, making her nod quickly as her cunt throbbed. She could. It never lasted long once Logan handled her like this.

“Ah huh — Wanna listen now because you feel good? Flickin’ your bean so good, you can barely speak?” Logan asked as he looked over her head, seeing her eyes roll.

“Yeah, I know, baby. So fuckin’ good,” Logan snapped his hips, feeling her legs finally stiffen under his. “Let go, baby. Flutter around my cock. Need a feel you squeeze the cum outta me,”

Y/n’s let out a broken whine, finally cumming with a shake. “That’s it, that’s it,” Logan repeated, fucking her harder to chance after his own climax.

“Keep it up! Keep fuckin’ squeezing me!” The man demanded as his cock twitched. “Fuck, yes, baby,” the man cussed into her neck as he spilled in her.

Logan’s hands traveled to her stomach, gripping it tightly to pull her into him. He wanted to make sure he came deep. Every time they fucked, he wanted it deep.

After a good minute of Logan growling and telling Y/n how good she was for him, he pulled out and pulled her panties back in place.

Y/n slowly turned around, sore and filled. She placed her hand on the man’s chest and gave him a long passionate kiss.

“You’re so needy, Logan,” y/n giggled, making him let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah, I just- I just need you a lot. You’re so good to me, y/n,” Logan said as his hand rested on her cheek, rubbing her skin.

“You’re better to me,” she smiled, making him shake his head slightly before going into how much better she is to him, and how he needs her to love his own life. All while rubbing her body, taking in every inch of her that is his. He was a lucky man.

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- i might have severe baby fever, idk.

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

——————————————————————————

Contrary to his name literally meaning “blessing”, Megumi was nothing short of a curse during bath time. He absolutely hated it, and he made it his tiny life’s mission to make sure his parents dreaded it as well.

“Megs, please just.. work with me here,” Toji pleaded, exhaustion brewing inside of him, his hands desperately trying to keep the squirming child before him tame.

You’d gone to run some errands, leaving Toji to attempt bath time alone, his previous confidence shriveling into nothingness the second he heard little Megumi cry as soon as he was dunked into the warm water. At three months old, he was the perfect child, quiet and happy, tame in every aspect of life, a fact that seemed to be nothing but false when Toji was the one left in charge of watching him.

Toji didn’t even think it possible for something to cry as much as Megumi did without passing out, but he had been proven wrong before, the wriggling thing in his hands wailing his heart out to try and convince his dad to let him out. “I’m sorry baby, but you did this to yourself,” he huffed, gently rubbing bubbles along his son’s belly, tiny feet kicking water up at him, Megumi clearly trying to escape the horror of his nightly bath.

You see, Toji would feel bad for his baby had he not been the cause for the bath in the first place, the mashed carrots he had for dinner ending up smeared down his face and front, far from the target of his mouth. Said carrots began to fade away from the whimpering Megumi’s skin, turning the water into a soapy orange. His little body fit perfectly in Toji’s large hands, the newborn scrunch still apparent as baby Megs’ legs squished up to his belly in a useless attempt at kicking his dad’s fingers away.

The crying problem only escalated as soon as Toji introduced a washcloth into the picture, Megumi squealing, kicking and writhing with so much force, he might as well have been a full-grown adult.

Without your seemingly ‘all-knowing’ insight when it came to parenting, Toji rushed to find his own solution, grabbing a used bottle of soap that appeared to be extremely bubbly, hurriedly pumping out the liquid into the water filled basin, praying that the mysterious substance would somehow, someway, quell the curse possessing his son.

It was almost as if Megumi was hypnotized or something, because the instant the familiar smell of his mother hit his nose, his screaming cries died down to nothing but little babbles, coos leaving him in a low, comfortable purr. You see, it wasn’t just any old soap bottle. No, it was the soap you had used to bathe Megs the night after you’d come home from the hospital after giving birth. Toji remembered just how surreal and peaceful the night was, so he could understand why the familiar scent would coax his baby into a severe bout of relaxation.

Finally quitting his incessant wriggling, Megumi relaxed in Toji’s hold, the smell of the soap slowly coaxing him into a sleepy state, his little nose wrinkling and eyelids occasionally fluttering open and closed. Toji hadn't noticed before but his tiny fingers began to wrap around his pinky finger, holding onto it in a playful manner.

“hm-” Toji hummed, finally understanding the cause of his son’s untamable mood. “You just miss mama, huh?” he murmured, gentle as he picked up a sponge, running the soft material along the cooing baby’s chest and belly, sudsing up his little body, taking advantage of the sleepy mood that seemed to come over the boy.

“Yeah.. me too,” was all Toji could think to say, honestly relating to the fit his son had thrown over missing his mother, Toji feeling the same way but without the screaming and crying to show it. Finishing his gentle cleansing, Toji leaned down to press a kiss on the sleepy Megumi’s forehead. "Let’s get you to bed," he whispered, hand cupping some water to rinse him with before he gently lifted him to his chest, head resting against his shoulder.

It was a breeze the rest of the night, Toji falling victim to sleep as well, he and Megumi alike in a sense that they both enjoyed resting more than anything. The couch was the chosen spot, Toji lying shirtless against the large piece of furniture, Megumi’s blue, fuzzy onesie warm against his chest as they dozed off, a large hand resting against the tiny baby’s back, holding him safe and sound even while unconscious.

He couldn’t explain it, but being alone with his child, his baby, kindled a feeling of comfortability, of pure contentment, in his chest, he knew that no matter how untamable or stubborn or confusing Megumi could be at times, he would always be his son, his little curse of a blessing.

——————————————————————————

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

im not sure what it ia, but i LOVE the little remora. i love it i love it i lvoe it

it makes me insane id love to groom ghosts scales, and everyone elses scales. i want to clean soap up, even if he see's poor ol remora as a toy to play with, i just wanna scrub them all up!

(i love this already. i love mer's)

the more shark mer Ghost pushes you away the more you wanna take care of him so so bad <3

you find yourself pouting a lot at Ghost’s surly attitude, darting up and down his big scarred body, as he tries to nap. tries to, but can’t.

it has nothing to do with you. he has these bouts of insomnia. but they make his temper real short.

regardless! you insist he needs to let you groom him. it’s been days. you get twitchy when he makes you skip your daily grooming with him. the rituals. the rituals are intricate.

“i’m trying to rest, you little pest,” he growls. "come back later. or not at all."

you tell him (tartly) that he said that yesterday and the day before.

“i meant it then and i mean it now. go away before i decide to chase you off.”

like he would. he hardly exists during the day as anything but a grumpy seafloor log. you swear you’ve seen bottom-feeders start nibbling on him he’s so inert.

(nibbling on him is your job.)

you settle down on the sand next to him on your stomach. you don't touch him yet, but he's just within reach. you stare at his pale, scarred sharkshin with bright eyes, practically vibrating in place.

he can feel your eyes on him. worse—he can feel the impatient flicking of your tail fin agitating the water as you stare at him. how can such a small creature be so terribly full of want, he wonders. your anxious energy is like too much salt in his gills.

“i will bite you," he warns. “i’m not in the mood.”

rationally, you know he doesn't like to be touched sometimes, no matter how you insist he'll feel better once he's clean. and still your anxious mind won't calm down until you're absolutely sure you've made yourself useful.

you lay your palms on the silt, fingers inching silently closer to him.

he growls, low and dangerous. the one that means he’s run out of patience and is about to make good on his threats.

you jolt and flatten yourself against the sand in instinctive submission. you’re not a threat, see? you’re harmless. you’re basically just a little piece of seaweed, c’mon.

your instant compliance does nothing to calm him. if anything, the sight of your immediate surrender drives him to double down.

he grabs you by the by the nape of your neck and lifts you up to eye level. “i warned you not to touch me.”

your stupid little heart leaps because all his attention is on you now. you want to wrap your hands around his eagerly, want to reach out and touch his chest. but you can only get close enough to skim his chest with your clawtips.

the sensation only makes him tense.

you quickly bring your hands in and wring them, trying to stop being a bother. "please can i—"

he glares down at you, teeth bared. “no,” he snaps. cold, firm, immediate.

but the more he tries to repel you, the more desperately you want to please him. to get back into his good graces. you feel every bit the creature full of anxiety and neuroses he thinks you are--always trying to figure out how to feel useful and stay on the other mers' good side.

he can see that in your eyes—the desperate need to be useful. it’s what he hates most about you. he can't stand how compliant you are at this moment. how desperate. how eager you are to please even after he's been nothing but cruel to you.

he squeezes you. your body thrums nervously in his grip.

“you little parasite. what part of ‘don’t touch me’ is so hard for you to understand?”

all of it. you stare up at him with big, blank eyes.

“you can't get the simplest instructions through your thick skull, can you?"

you shake your head (kind of, best you can) in his grip as a shameless display of agreement. he’s right, you’re stupid. so stupid.

Ghost scowls. eager, willing to degrade yourself at the smallest fucking thing.

"don't tell me you're getting off on this.”

okay! you won’t.

at that, you see the look in his eye shift from anger to something more devious. your response is so quick and willing that he can't help but smirk.

of course. of course you’d comply. no matter how hard he pushes, how cruel he is, you simply ask for worse. you're a little masochist. a nuisance. worse, you’re his nuisance. you insist on being around him, on seeking him out every bloody day.

he tolerates your presence. that's more than anyone else gets. and you take the precious little patience he gives you and wear it threadbare??

he can’t abide that. he can’t let your audacity go unchecked.

"look at you," he hisses. "eager to debase yourself at the first sign of anger. don't you think that's just pathetic?"

you nod enthusiastically.

mindless creature. willing to let him treat you any way he wants if it means attention. pitiful.

"say it," he growls.

you do. you happily tell him you’re pathetic.

“that you are. finally, something sensible out of that pretty mouth.”

you’re wired—fucking blitzed at the mere implication of good girl in his tone.

“and you're my little parasite. mine to do with as i please."

your whole body wants to curl in delight, your tail twisting like an eel in the sand below you as he eases you onto your back.

his eyes rake over you. you are the picture of obedience and submission, all pinned down and ready.

“look at you,” he rasps. “so desperate to please me. you’d do anything i tell you right now, yeah?”

yes. yes. anything.

he leans in and puts his mouth to your ear. "then let me sleep."

then he’s gone.

you lay in the sand in blank, sexually charged confusion.

by the time you slap your tail into the sand to twist yourself up into the water, half-flustered and hot-tempered, you see the ends of Ghost’s chewed-up tailfins disappear into his favorite dark cave.

before you can give chase, the familiar shape of Soap passes overhead, and he's chuckling as he dives down to you.

Soap’s grin widens as he watches your face cycle through frustration, confusion, and irritation.

you can’t believe Ghost would do that to you.

“of course he’d do it,” Soap says. he saw the whole thing.

you bluster and he coos a little teasing sympathy at you, ushering you up into his arms instead. poor wee cuttlefish, he calls you. lays it on thick because he knows you're looking for a place to expend all that pent up energy now.

he whisks you away somewhere more private so you can tend to him instead. groom him all you want. tell him your troubles. maybe let him make good use of your compliant nature. he tells you it’s a good way to make Ghost jealous.

meanwhile, Ghost is finally able to snooze contentedly, dreaming of you, maybe. he does owe you a little thanks for that small catharsis you gave him.

...

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag