just thinking about aftercare w nat after a longgg night (😏) and just being soft w her as she’s semi out of it🥺 just lots of cuddling and soft kisses and maybe carrying her to a warm bath🥺🥺
mind if i talk about aftercare mixed with a praise kink? i've been craving to just SHOWER her in praise lately so like,,,lets play on that here
warnings: mature, not quite 18+ but if you're under 18 i wouldn't interact with this filthy excuse for a blog anyway whOopS
you're so soft with her once you're eventually done, pushing any toys well out the way, discarding everything to do with your evening together so that it's just you and her in your soft sheets
you pull her close while she breathes heavy against your shoulder, pressing kisses very occasionally as she starts to sink back to reality
"nat, baby, you're so beautiful" "good girl, you were so good for me, sweetheart. so so good for me" "cmon, sweet girl, that's it, just relax now, kay?"
soft, slow making out? nat's all over that shit. cuddled into your side, she'll curl a hand around your neck to get you to face her and she'll kiss you, long and deep and everything
she's got a thing for just having you close afterwards, pressed tightly against her with your hands on her and your lips on her skin
she loves how soft you get w her
also consider natasha just throwing a leg over your hips to hold you down if you go to move, even to get her water or to run a bath, she doesn't like letting you go if you've really pushed her limits
not because she doesn't actually like it, nat's just obsessed w her daddy partner
baths, even though she'll groan when you get up to run one, are her favourite
Prompt/Idea: Reader trying to get Gojo out of bed, so he's not late. Like always
Warnings: Literally can't think of anything except for the fact Microsoft word was my proof reader.
Genre type thing: Fluff
Word count: 764 words
Note: I totally didn't just decide to write a whole ass fanfiction cause I'm bored. I also put the rest of it under the cut to make potential home pages/search pages more accessible or easier to navigate...
I don't own Gojo if I did I wouldn't be here right now.
Art is mine so please don't use it without permission.
The early morning sun rays are usually enough to wake you up in the mornings but today it was the birds chirping on the edge of the balcony connected to your shared apartment that did it today. After lightly tossing and turning for who knows how long, with a quiet whine you finally accept that sleep unfortunately is not an option anymore, you lightly open your eyes blinking to get used to the sudden intrusion of the early morning sun.
As your eyes adjust you move your limbs to start to stretch when you suddenly tap against a soft object, you move to turn you head to the side as you look you see your boyfriend Satoru. You take a second to admire him during the one of the only times that he is not goofing around, being an idiot or just Satoru being Satoru. His chest slowly rising with each slow breath, his body shifting ever so slightly while fast asleep, his hair tousled and his eyes bare without his usual blindfold.
But peace cannot last forever, you flip over onto your other side so that you can look at you side table to see how long you have to laze around before you and Satoru are supposed to go into work. The clock says that it is 7 o’clock meaning that you should probably get up so that you can shower and eat breakfast before going to deal with whatever curse has manifested today, as you start to awaken more and more you realize that the idiot asleep next to you had a meeting at the Kyoto school at 7 o’clock. At first you sit there for a moment contemplating if it is even worth it to wake him up and that if he is late AGAIN for the 3rd time this week maybe this time, he might finally learn his lesson.
You realize that you are dealing with the ever non caring, slightly arrogant Satoru, and that this is one lesson he may never learn, you decide that the best course of action would be to wake him up as dangerous as that has proved to be in past experiences. You sit up sure of your plan turn to the side as start to gently shake him knowing that it will with no doubt wake him up because of his superhuman awareness, you where sure even your tossing and turning may have woken him up but he does not even slightly stir with your gentle shaking. You decide to take it up a notch and shake him harder knowing that he is already late for his meeting.
“Y/n-chaaaannnn lemmeeee sleeeep” whined Satoru in a slightly raspy morning voice, “Satoru you are already late for a meeting for the 3rd time this week you NEED to get up” replied y/n while getting out of bed. “Meetings can wait y/n-chaann, I’d rather sleep in with youuu.” Argued Satoru while grabbing your waist and pulling you back into bed, then pulling you flush against him to cuddle instead of attending the meeting he was already late for. You attempt to wiggle out of his vice-grip of a hold but it is no use, after all he is the worlds strongest sorcerer for a reason. Satoru lies there chuckling at your weak attempts to escape his hold.
You know that you are fully awake you are more then aware of how fast your time is ticking away, you have to get up now so that you are not late, you suddenly have an amazing idea and decide that you must do the unthinkable in order to escape his hold. “satoooruuu my arm hurts can I take it out” y/n whines, “of course looovee, but first a kissss” Satoru replies while awaiting his kiss impatiently. Giving in you give him a kiss then he holds true to his statement and allows you to free your poor arm.
With your arm free you decide that now is the perfect time to put your plan into motion, you lift up your arm pretending to be adjusting then suddenly you smack Satoru upside the head then quickly hop out of bed moving quickly to go shower then get ready for work, While Satoru sits there dumbfounded at the fact that you did not wanna cuddle Wasn’t even fazed by the smack lol, before getting out of bed and deciding to actually show up at that meeting despite the fact he's already a good thirty minutes late.
~END!~
Welp my first fanfiction is all done! I probably shouldn't make this a continuous thing.
helloo ^^ could you please write something based on this ❝ i’m fine, let me see your face. ❞ for eraserjoke? they are one of my favourite ships because of the dynamic and the potential. thank you and have a good day/night!
hi!! I have never written either of these characters let alone the pairing, but you’re right the dynamic and potential are great (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و i hope i’ve done them justice.
laugh therapy.
cw: none
wc: 656, unedited
"—I'm fine."
Aizawa pushed his colleague's face away from his own with one hand—he could feel her inquisitive smile underneath his palm—and with the other dug furiously into the corners of his burning eyes. He knew he would just irritate them further but whatever slime had been flung at him felt as though it seared his corneas, and paired with his already overworked Quirk, his eyes refused to open. And in his current company, the inability to use his power was fatal.
If there was one person Aizawa couldn't look away from, it was Fukukado Emi.
Aizawa valued peace and quiet. Though he seemed to attract just the opposite in terms of friends, at least Yamada knew when to reign himself in—usually after a particularly hard glare from the underground Hero bundled in his sleeping bag. Fukukado had no such situational awareness and though Aizawa had no issues with voicing his complaints about her out loud, to her face, repeatedly, she was as tenacious as she was boisterous so all of their interactions outside of official Hero business had devolved to the same song and dance. She would attempt to distract him with dad jokes and pick up lines that made him inwardly groan and each time he'd stare her down, nullifying her ability before the bubbling excitement in his chest could burst forth from his mouth, though her smile never faltered no matter how many times he turned her down.
"Let me see your face."
She had lost a glove in the scuffle so her hand against his cheek was cold, softer than he imagined, not that he let himself think of Fukukado in his down time. If he did, he would have come to the conclusion that Ms. Joke was a good Hero, despite her seeming inability to take him seriously, and wouldn't put the safety of her team above asking him out again. But he didn't think about her so the only reason he turned his face into her palm was out of resignation that his constant rubbing was making things worse, and maybe he was a bit curious about how she would help. They were pressed close in the back alley they had chased the Villain to—still fighting a fit of giggles, now restrained at their feet—so Aizawa felt her arm bump against him as she rummaged through one of the small, smiley-faced pouches of her uniform. When she found what she was looking for, she tilted his face up and pried his eyes open, one by one, with cool fingers that soothed his inflamed lids and applied one drop each of some liquid that took away the sting immediately.
Aizawa blinked, letting the grime and shadows of the alleyway come back into focus and Fukukado looked up at him with mouth tilted and brows raised. The expectant excitation was all too familiar, but her restraint—obvious in the way her shoulders quivered from suppressed laughter and her mouth twitched with the threat of a smile—was so surprising that, on top of the realization that she kept eye drops on hand for him, it was suddenly funny. And the shock that crossed her face at Aizawa's chuckle, probably the first time she had ever made such an expression, was hilarious and even if she had finally been able to use her Quirk on him—though he could tell this was no manipulation, but genuine joy—he wouldn't have been able to stop it with his eyes scrunched in merriment. He figured he would come to regret letting his guard down around Fukukado but as her wonder wore off and they laughed together, whether out of relief for a job well done or the acknowledgement of this feeling between them, Aizawa thought that laughing once in a while, maybe with company, over dinner, didn’t sound so bad.
Late but a little something for our first man (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡
Mammon x gn!reader, sfw fluff
Some poker things ppl might not know:
yellow chips - $1000
the flop - the first three cards laid on the board by the dealer
the turn - the fourth card laid on the board by the dealer
off suit - when the suits of a card (spade/heart/club/diamond) do not match
“All in!”
The stack of chips, made heavy and unstable by its promise of returns, slanted to the side until it tipped, tumbled into the next pile and sent the whole of Mammon’s savings scattering over the flop. He picked up a stray yellow disk as it rolled its way back to him and set it flat against the green felt.
“Come on! Who wants to call and give me a nice, fat birthday present?”
Over the grinding of gears and whirring of reels, standing out from the excited hum of newbies and veterans alike, Mammon’s howls of amusement echoed across the show floor, amplified by the backward toss of his head and in spite of the hand at his mouth that usually served as a sign of demurity. In his other hand, two cards were held close to his chest. Around him, several players tossed their own to the dealer and stood, scrounging what they could before they found themselves burned by the Avatar of Greed’s hot streak. He had won twelve hands in a row, called and raised every turn with no sign of stopping; and even if he had lost them all, his exuberance was enough to deter most other players, with the exception of one who had sat down just as the last hand was being dealt.
“Call.”
The thump of your knuckles against the table top cut off Mammon’s laughter. With no more distractions, he finally turned to you, tucked into the corner by the dealer and the wall, not as well hidden now that the seat on your other side was made empty.
The shadow of nervousness in his brow was washed out by the widening of his stare and he leaned across the table to get a better look at you. You were grateful for the chance to stare right back into his eyes--pools of gold lapping at a deep blue sea--over the rim of his glasses, slipping down his nose. His gaze fluttered over you, but when you returned the inspection with a punctuating smile and lick of your lips, it centered on your mouth and his whole body froze as though caught in a trap. Mammon dropped back to his seat with a thump that rang in the absence of his laugh, and jerked his head back to the board as the dealer laid out the turn.
“Check.”
You continued to watch him with your free hand curled under your chin. All you could see was your smile reflected in his amber lenses.
“Check.”
The skin of his neck pulled tight over the bobbing of his Adam’s apple.
“Sir?”
You and the dealer, the only two left at the table besides Mammon, turned the weight of your gazes on him. He swallowed again and the change in demeanor was almost enough to make you laugh--but you held it in for his sake--his previous smile hidden behind the thinned lines of his lips as he worried them. You were patient as you could be, but time is money and the dealer cleared their throat after several moments of twitching. Mammon jumped up from his seat and slammed his cards on the table face down.
“F-fold!”
Though his eyes were still hidden behind his glasses, you could see the slight jerk of his head toward you, and down, to your hand where you still held your own. The muscles of your cheeks hurt when you finally let go of the laugh that you had been holding in; it strained further at the realization that a blush dusted his face.
“Too bad. My hand was shit.”
You tossed your cards face up on the table as the dealer pushed your winnings your way.
“You gotta be kidding me!”
You swept your chips onto your rack and stood. You walked away and even if you couldn’t hear him still blubbering in complaint behind you, you would have known Mammon was following you by the way the other players flocked back to the table.
“How in Devildom are you gonna take all my money with a 7-3 off suit?!”
You stopped at the line to the teller and he ran straight into your shoulder, leaping back to mutter a quick apology. Finally you turned to him and answered.
“The same way you were planning on winning with a 7-2 off suit.”
Mammon’s jaw popped as his mouth fell open, glasses sliding down his nose and your grin returned. Reaching up, you tapped his chin shut and his teeth clicked. You pulled your hand back toward your own face and pointed at your eyes.
“You should be careful wearing those at the table. They don’t hide your face or your hand very well.”
You cashed out and behind you Mammon ripped off his glasses, staring back at the only one to blame for his loss. He raised them up in one hand as though to throw them before he brought his fist back down to his side in a moment of restraint, only to repeat the action in his surging anger. He stopped, arm halfway in the air, when you put a hand on his shoulder.
“You said it’s your birthday, right? How about dinner? My treat.”
With his glasses no longer hiding his face, his blush was completely visible, extending past his cheeks and to his neck, deepening when his eyes returned to your touch. But then he mirrored your smile and laughed as before, flashing teeth and relief as one hand covered his mouth.
“Yeah, of course you want to take the Great Mammon out for dinner. I make great company, ya know!”
You laughed with him and slid your hand down his arm, pulling him to your side in a smooth motion that made him stutter though he did not pull away. Instead, his warmth grew heavier at your side as you turned together toward the dining hall.
“I bet you make the best company, O’ Great Mammon!” You quite enjoyed the ruddy teak of his cheeks at your teasing and couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up again. “So, where do you wanna go? And oh, yeah, before I forget, happy birthday, Mammon!”
“C’mon, human, you gotta have a better idea than that!”
You were starting to get tired of hearing yourself sigh, but scheming with Mammon was never easy. Your plans were too complicated, not grand enough, impossible to do quickly because he needed money now or else he had some angry witches to answer to. Leaning your cheek into your hand, you watched the greedy demon write and erase, write and erase his ill-gotten plans again and again as he grumbled under his breath. Then it hit you.
“Mammon, I figured it out! I got everything you need right here.”
The glare he gave you over his sunglasses was less than trustworthy as you sat up straight. But the cock of his eyebrow betrayed his interest.
“All right, I’m listenin’. This better be good.”
“You don’t need all these plans for money or whatever. I've got everything you need right here."
Mammon’s pearly whites cut across his face in a grimace. “Yeah, right! Where’s it at then?”
Despite his disbelieving frown, you could hear the high note of giddiness that laced his voice when money was on the table. Curious, he leaned forward as you reached up and cradled his cheeks in your hands.
“See? I’ve got the whole world in my hands.”
You admired the shades of red that passed over Mammon’s wide-eyed face. He sputtered and wiggled in your loose hold but when you tried to drop your hands, he slapped his directly over them. You could feel the heat of his cheeks and the stretch of his smile beneath your palm.
“Stu-stupid, human.” His blue eyes finally landed on your face and it was your turn to blush under the soft look he gave you now. “Don’t go dropping your everything, you hear me?”
Hiii, I'm the Bakumina author before and I wanted to thank you again for being so sweet and kind! There aren't many people out there who enjoy others being happy and the fact that you are one of them? IT'S SO WHOLESOME AND THE WORLD NEEDS MORE PEOPLE LIKE YOU. 😭
I wanted to request another drabble based on them but I'd like you to surprise me, if that's alright. What you feel like writing, write that. Doesn't matter if it's fluff or smut or angst or anything really.
welcome back, hun! (#^^#)ゞyou’re too kind to me, thank you! I just figure it’s much easier to put good into the world than it is bad (tho I definitely have my moments haha) and the more good there is, maybe some of it will come back to me too. as for the request, I’m surprised at myself for not jumping straight to smut when given the chance but this fluff is what came to mind. please enjoy~!
let me come home
bakumina. pro-heroes.
cw: none
wc: 786
Bakugou's knees nearly gave out in the doorway but he caught himself on the handle at the last minute, tottering under the oversized bag draped over his shoulder and held loosely to his side by his folded up arm. He dropped his bag over the shoes lined up in the genkan—mostly worn boots, a sparkly pair of flats—and dragged himself into the living room. The first rays of the sun began to illuminate the small space, a low table for meals and a couch the only furnishings, but Bakugou kept his eyes as low as possible, attempting to hold onto the vestiges of sleep that he had managed in the taxi ride home, and used one hand against the wall to follow the hallway to his room.
The end of every night was the same; as a rookie Hero, only six months out of Yuuei, Bakugou was given the less desirable missions. Some were just time wasters, patrols in overly protected areas or stacks of paperwork that his superiors could have done but delegated to him in order to, as Best Jeanist phrased it, practice for when he had his own agency. Tired of twiddling his thumbs with petty criminals, he had jumped at the first chance for an assignment with some meat on its bones; it had taken him away from Musutafu for a week of overnight surveillance and what should have simply been reconnaissance turned into a two day firefight with his team cornered by the enemy until backup arrived. Bakugou had broken an arm—mostly healed now, thanks to a doctor's Quirk, but still in a sling—lost his phone and not gotten more than thirty minutes of sleep since the the end of his watch shift before the battle began. He was going to enjoy his day off tomorrow by never getting out bed.
Reaching the second door on the left, he pushed it open and thanked his past self for keeping his blackout curtains drawn when he left last as he didn't think he had the energy to cross the room and close them now. He barely made it to his bed, not bothering to remove his shirt as he usually did, and flopped down on the left side where he slept out of habit, though by morning he was sure to be curled up around a pillow in the middle. He laid there for a moment as his legs and torso hung over the side of the bed, threatening to drag him to floor until he grunted, gathering the last of his might and, with his good hand, reached out for the headboard, smacking something warm and soft.
Had he been at even a quarter of his usual strength, Bakugou would have blown away who or whatever had taken refuge in his bed. As it was, the mere thought of using his Quirk made his arms ache to the bone and he could barely roll himself onto his side to see what he had hit. The dark of the room and the threatening fall of his eyelids made it difficult at first to distinguish the arm Bakugou had struck but as his eyes slowly focused on it, the whole rest of Mina's body came into view.
The arm not slung out to the side was tucked under her head and the pillow she had been using, now just decoration, was mushed against the headboard. Her mouth was wide open but she made no sound other than a heavy sigh and the occasional wet smack of her lips. As though she could feel his gaze on her, Mina's face turned to him and then her whole body, flopping onto one side, though her eyes did not open. The hand she had been lounging on, now freed, reached out blindly to the left side of the bed and flopped, dejected, when it found nothing. Mina sighed again and spoke, in a voice slurred with the weight of her dreams, a single name into the dark.
Bakugou pushed himself up into his spot on the mattress, taking advantage of the sudden weightlessness of his battered body. He laid on his back and took her hand in his, laying it over his chest beside the arm tucked into his side. At his touch, she scooted closer and pressed her face into his shoulder, the sleeve of his shirt absorbing the tears clinging unshed to her lashes; the sigh she gave now was content even in sleep. And Bakugou joined her soon after with blushing cheeks hidden in the pink tresses of her hair and a squeeze of her hand, returned three times as he finally drifted off.
alright I got another idea, what about a female reader who is pretty religious, like to the point where she’s weary to be around the brothers and will default to being around the angels because she trusts them more? and Satan is tired of it and interrogates her about it
ahh I am not at all religious myself, so I hope I’ve included those points well enough. Thanks for the request <3
It’s understandable that she’s scared. She’s a human with no magic suddenly appearing in a world she never knew existed, living with men whose names equate to the most evil force imaginable in her realm. Some of them have alluded to eating her and that is definitely no way to make a guest feel comfortable.
But there’s a difference between weary and rude and Satan has had about enough of it.
They only see her at breakfast and dinner. She’s in and out, giving one word answers as she avoids looking any of them in the eye. They glimpse her between classes and at lunch, both places where she never sits with them, opting instead to spend her time with Simeon and Luke, and Solomon by extension.
Something is always clutched tightly in her hand. He realizes it’s a rosary the day he decides to confront her.
She’s standing by the front doors as he’s on his way to the lounge. The decision to talk to her is a subconscious one. One minute he’s minding his own business and the next, when she jumps and tucks herself into the corner at the sight of him, he’s tightening his jaw in frustration. He moves toward her and she throws up a hand.
“Stay-stay back!” A silver cross swings from her clenched fist.
Satan stops, not out of fear of the symbol but because of the fear in her eyes.
“I was wondering what you were always muttering at.” It suddenly makes sense; any time she sees one of them, she starts praying. She jumps again when he calls her name. “Tell me, have I or my brothers threatened you at any time since you arrived?”
Slowly, she shakes her head. Satan sighs and through the anger that still claws at him persistently, he feels something else when he looks at her, somewhat unfamiliar but oddly comforting. It’s what lets him say what he does next.
“I don’t know what sort of things you learned about demons in the human realm,” maybe it’s the sincerity that he tries to instill in his voice, but she turns to look at him, really look at him for the first time since she’s been here, “but we don’t know much about humans down here either. That’s part of the reason you’re here, isn’t it? I don’t know about my brothers, but I am interested in getting to know you more.”
Satan could have said that he was interested in learning about humans, but that wouldn’t have been quite right. And for the first time in weeks, as though she understands exactly what he’s not saying, she flashes him a smile not restrained by niceties or clouded by fear but one he hopes to see again quite often.
