icythot68

[icythot68]

Will you be mine?

BNHA! x princess reader!

You finally snap out of your haze, the weight of that dance still clinging to your skin like perfume.

Your eyes scan the room with purpose now—your earlier nerves replaced by something sharper. Instinct.

He shouldn’t be here. You don’t know how you know it, but you do. And there’s only one person you trust to confirm that gut feeling.

You gather the hem of your gown and move swiftly through the ballroom, ignoring curious stares and half-hearted greetings as you make your way toward Sir Kirishima—your knight. Your constant. Your anchor.

He’s stationed just along the marble archway, speaking with another guard, but his posture straightens the moment he sees you approaching. His brows knit slightly—he can tell something’s off.

But before you can reach him—

“Your Highness!”

You turn, jaw tightening.

Lady Yaoyorozu waves you over, flanked by a semicircle of nobles—familiar faces painted with courtly smiles. Beside her stands Ochako, nervously twisting the stem of her empty glass, and Prince Todoroki, whose unreadable expression flicks between you and the spot you were just standing in.

You're cornered.

Not now.

But propriety demands a response.

You smooth your expression and glide toward them, casting one last glance back to where Kirishima stands. His eyes meet yours—concerned, questioning—but he stays in place.

You’ll get to him. You have to.

For now, the charade continues.

“Oh dear heavens—your dress seems to be wrinkled,” Lady Yaoyorozu says delicately, though her tone carries that faint edge of scandal veiled as concern.

Several heads turn. Eyes lower to your gown.

You follow their gaze, only now noticing the faint creases in the fabric near your waist and skirt—evidence of hurried movement… or a rather improper closeness.

“I happened to notice that the moment you entered,” another noble lady adds sweetly. She tilts her head, the smile on her face far too amused to be innocent.

“With that young gentleman on your arm,” the noblewoman continues, voice dripping with mock concern, “I do hope… nothing went on between you two. That would be so scandalous. Especially for an unmarried woman such as yourself.”

“And just crowned queen, too. Imagine the shame. Your family’s reputation would be… thoroughly undone.”

A silence hangs in the air—not heavy, but expectant. Waiting for your reaction.

They want you flustered. Ashamed. Cornered.

You pause.

Then, slowly, deliberately, you raise your eyes and meet hers with a gaze so cold and precise it could slice glass.

“If my family’s reputation can be undone by a single dance, then perhaps it was far more fragile than I was led to believe.”

The noblewoman slightly opens her mouth almost as if she wanted to say something but as her voice betrayed her she closes it promptly like a fish gasping for air. A crack in the façade.

You continue, voice calm and devastating.

“Besides, I fail to see how decorum is best preserved by discussing it in the middle of a ballroom.”

A few stifled gasps. Someone covers a smile with their gloved hand. Even Yaoyorozu’s lips twitch before she turns her gaze diplomatically away.

Before another poisoned smile can be tossed your way, Ochako—bless her—steps slightly forward, her voice light but purposeful.

“Oh! Speaking of introductions,” she says, clasping her hands together with gentle enthusiasm, “Your Highness, you and Prince Todoroki have been acquainted before—during your coronation ceremony. Do you recall?”

The shift in subject is as graceful as it is deliberate. A lifeline thrown across a table of sharks.

You turn your gaze to Todoroki, who stands quietly at her side, cool and composed as ever. He inclines his head, polite and measured.

“We met briefly, yes,” he says, voice as smooth and distant as fresh snow. “Though it was hardly the time for conversation.”

You nod slowly, recalling the brief moment—the exchange of formalities, the weight of new titles still fresh on your shoulders. He had spoken few words then, too, but there had been a sharpness behind his gaze. Observant. Calculating.

You offer a courteous smile.

“Forgive me, Prince Todoroki. That entire day feels like a blur of names, oaths, and glittering nerves.”

He steps forward, just a pace, and inclines his head.

“Understandable,” he replies smoothly. “You wore the weight of a crown well, even then.”

Then—unexpectedly, but with perfect composure—he reaches for your hand.

You hesitate only briefly before allowing him to take it.

His touch is precise, his hand gloved in the finest silk. He bows over it with practiced grace, eyes briefly lifting to meet yours as he brings your knuckles to his lips.

A kiss—not too long, not too warm. Measured. Honorable. Yet…

There’s a faint shift in the air.

That same intensity you remember from the coronation lingers behind his gaze—like he’s searching for something beneath your composure. And perhaps, quietly challenging it.

He releases your hand, stepping back.

“It’s good to properly meet you again, Your Majesty.”

The murmur of nobles around you softens, curious eyes flicking between the two of you.

Ochako glances at you knowingly.

You offer a light laugh, subtle and composed.

“Oh, please—‘Your Highness’ is quite fine with me. Preferred, actually.” You tilt your head slightly, voice gentle but firm. “It would feel wrong to carry such a high title while both of my parents are alive and well.”

There’s a pause.

Todoroki studies you a moment longer—then nods once, respectful.

“Then Your Highness, it is.”

The tension softens slightly, though the curious eyes around you still flicker with interest, ever reading between lines not spoken aloud.

Ochako shifts beside you, smiling warmly, clearly pleased by your composure. But before the moment can settle fully—

A flicker of movement.

Someone familiar—red-haired and unmistakably tense—is striding through the crowd, eyes searching.

Sir Kirishima.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” you say, smoothing the fabric at your side. Your voice is pleasant, but final. “I have… more private matters to attend to.”

A soft curtsy follows. You meet Todoroki’s gaze once more. “It was a pleasure to become reacquainted, Prince Todoroki. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He inclines his head with cool courtesy, but you’ve already turned away.

The music fades behind you as you cross the ballroom—calm, composed, a mask of poise even as your heart begins to race.

Through the crowd, you spot him. Sir Kirishima.

His red hair is unmistakable, his armor ceremonial yet marked by tension in every line of his posture. His eyes find yours and his brows knit in immediate concern.

“Your Highness—” he starts, already moving toward you.

But you don’t let him finish.

With a swift, quiet gesture, you reach for his arm and guide him toward the nearest doors—cool marble opening to the moonlit terrace. The air is brisk against your skin, laced with the scent of rose and night-blooming jasmine.

“We’re alone now,” you say, stepping back, your eyes scanning his face. “So speak freely.”

“What do you speak of?” he asks, his brow furrowed. There’s no edge to his tone—only honest confusion, and something softer underneath it. He looks at you with a quiet, deep concern, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did something happen?”

You stare at him, searching his face for some hint—anything—but it’s clear. He’s telling the truth.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“You mean you know not?” you say, the words spilling out fast, almost disbelieving.

Your eyes widen, the chill of realization crawling down your spine as the pieces begin to arrange themselves in your mind.

He doesn't know. Not only does he not know who the man was… He didn’t even know he was coming.

Which means he wasn’t on the security list. Wasn’t cleared by the royal guard. And yet—he walked you in.

Like he belonged.

Like no one questioned him.

Your gaze drifts away for a moment, fixed on the palace windows glowing warm against the dark. Your heartbeat picks up.

“No one stopped him,” you murmur aloud, almost to yourself. “He moved through the palace like it was his own.”

Your breath quickens. The cold night air suddenly feels too tight, too thin. Your vision narrows and your heartbeat pounds against your ears.

Sir Kirishima steps forward quickly.

“(Y/N)—hey, hey, breathe. Look at me.” His voice is firm, grounding. One hand hovers just shy of your shoulder, not quite touching you, waiting for permission.

You gasp, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of what you now realize presses harder against your chest.

“What do you mean?” Kirishima asks, his concern sharpening. “Who do you speak of? Tell me immediately, (Y/N)!”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, wide and trembling.

“A man,” you manage to say between breaths. “A man I do not know escorted me during my entrance—because none of my usual escorts arrived at my chambers. You didn’t arrive. No one did. I assumed he was a newly appointed servant… or—” You swallow hard. “or some perverted noble with too much curiosity and too little tact.”

Kirishima stares at you, frozen in dawning horror.

“Wait. So if you didn’t know him…” His voice lowers. “…and I know nothing of his existence…”

He takes a step closer, instinctively shifting his stance into something protective. The air between you goes still.

“Then… he’s not just a bold noble with ambition.”

“No,” you whisper. “He’s something else entirely.”

And for the first time tonight, you feel the creeping whisper of danger curl into something colder—something real.

Edit: if you like this post I made a series of it on my page! I also have the copy on my Wattpad 😁

[icythot68]

Will you be mine?

BNHA! x princess reader!

As panic continues to coil within you like a tightening thread, your breath comes shallow and uneven. Sir Kirishima gently steadies you, his voice calm and quiet.

But his words barely hold weight as the distant echo of hurried footsteps grows louder, the rhythm sharp and decisive—heels on stone.

“Dearest!” your mother’s voice rings out, full of unbothered elegance and warmth. Her expression beams as she sweeps into view, her arm linked with none other than—

Duke Midoriya.

Your pulse skips.

Your mother doesn’t notice the tension crackling between you and Kirishima. Or the way your eyes dart, as if still searching for shadows.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she continues with a cheerful lilt. “I don’t believe the two of you were ever properly introduced. This is Duke Izuku Midoriya.”

The Duke bows respectfully, ever the perfect noble. His green eyes are steady, kind—utterly unlike the storm you danced with moments ago.

“He was unfortunately unable to attend your coronation,” your mother explains, practically glowing with pride, “as he’s been tirelessly working to support the western provinces. And just last week he returned from aiding the refugee efforts in the southern alliances.”

You manage a nod, curtsying slightly despite the thunder in your chest.

“An admirable cause,” you say softly.

Your mother clasps her hands together.

“What a young, impressionable man, don’t you think, darling?” she says with a gleam in her eye. “Compassionate, generous, capable, of strong lineage…”

Sir Kirishima shifts beside you, a small movement—but one you catch instantly. At your mother’s last words, his jaw tenses, and his posture stiffens ever so slightly. Not enough to draw her attention. But enough for you to notice.

You turn your head just slightly, meeting his eyes.

There’s a flicker there—concern, reluctance, perhaps something else that hasn’t yet found a name. But you offer him a small, barely-there nod. It’s all he needs.

Silent understanding passes between you. Permission. Duty.

And without a word, Kirishima gives you the faintest bow—formal, but meant for only you—and quietly disappears into the shadows of the hallway, off to do what must be done.

Your mother doesn’t even notice.

“But dear,” she continues with a smile that’s more practiced than warm, “it’s nearly time to guide our guests toward the botanical garden. Such a delightful atmosphere for courting conversation, don’t you think?” She gives a light laugh. “Perhaps there you’ll have a better chance to meet all your suitors at once—less wandering eyes that way.”

She waves her hand dismissively before you can reply.

“For now, why not return to the ballroom with the Duke? We wouldn’t want anyone thinking something scandalous about the two of you sneaking off alone.”

You nearly roll your eyes, but instead you plaster on the smile you’ve been practicing since childhood. The smile that says I hear you even when you’d rather scream.

Midoriya, ever composed, offers you his arm once again. “Shall we, Your Highness?” he says, the words polite—but with a genuine softness that suggests he noticed more than he’s letting on.

You take his arm.

Not because you want to.

But because it is expected.

As you and Duke Midoriya make your way back into the ballroom, the light from the chandeliers dances across the polished marble floor. The air is thick with perfume, candle smoke, and expectation. You offer practiced smiles, gracious nods, and shallow curtsies to every noble who passes—but your thoughts are miles away, still tangled in the unsettling waltz of earlier events.

Midoriya’s arm is steady beneath your hand, but even that can’t anchor the unease curling in your stomach.

“I can see that something bothers you, Your Highness,” he says softly, voice warm and conversational, though his eyes remain forward—focused on the sea of watching faces. He smiles and nods to a baroness as she passes, never once faltering in etiquette.

You blink, surprised by his perception. Or maybe you shouldn’t be.

“You’re quite observant,” you murmur, keeping your tone light, polite—fit for public ears. “But aren’t we all burdened by something at events like these? It’s practically tradition.”

He chuckles quietly. “True. Though most burdens don’t cause one’s gaze to drift as if they’re searching for something... or someone.”

That catches you off guard. Not enough to falter in your stride—but enough for him to notice.

His voice drops just slightly—still pleasant, but edged with a calm kind of insight.

“Forgive me,” he says, “I didn’t mean to intrude. But it seems unfair for a newly crowned queen to walk among her people with such a storm behind her eyes.”

You offer him a sidelong glance, a faint curve to your lips—controlled, courteous. The kind of smile that could mean anything, and nothing at all.

“You seem awfully invested in my well-being, Your Grace” you say lightly, tilting your head just enough to catch the sparkle of the chandelier in your earring. “One might wonder if that care is personal… or strategic.”

His smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker in his expression—amusement, perhaps.

“Would it be terribly scandalous if I said both?” he replies smoothly, keeping his tone perfectly balanced between charm and sincerity. “It is, after all, in my best interest that the crown remains secure and… unshaken.”

“And if I told you the crown is already trembling?”

That slows him. Just a beat. Barely noticeable. But there.

He looks ahead again, raising a hand in polite greeting to a passing dignitary.

“Then I’d offer my arm just as I am now, and I’d walk beside you until the trembling passed,” he says. Then, a breath quieter: “Or until we found the reason behind it.”

You don’t respond immediately. You’re not sure you can.

But then—

“You saw him, didn’t you?” you murmur under your breath. The hum of voices and music is loud enough to swallow the words from any wandering ears.

There’s a pause. Calculated.

“Yes,” Midoriya replies, voice low, almost an exhale. “I didn’t recognize him. And I make it a point to know everyone who walks through royal doors.”

That confirms it. That twist in your gut wasn’t paranoia. It was intuition.

“So why didn’t you say something?” you ask, careful not to let the urgency bleed too heavily into your tone.

“Because I couldn’t be certain,” he answers. “And uncertainty is dangerous when wielded carelessly in rooms like this. You know that.”

His gaze flicks to yours, serious now.

“But you’re right to be uneasy. That man… he wasn’t supposed to be here.”

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening slightly against his arm.

“And yet,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “he danced with me under every eye in this room.”

Midoriya nods once.

“Which means he wanted to be seen.”

[icythot68]

Will you be mine?

BNHA! x princess reader!

The trumpets sound.

Their brass cry echoes through the vaulted ceilings like thunder wrapped in silk, silencing the hum of conversation and commanding every soul in the ballroom to pay attention.

A herald steps forward from beside the grand staircase, his scroll unfurled and his voice trained for spectacle:

“Presenting Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess of the Realm—Heir to the Celestial Throne, Keeper of the Sapphire Crest—” He pauses dramatically, “...and jewel of tonight’s Coronation Ball, Her Highness (Y/N)”

The ballroom explodes in light.

Gilded chandeliers blaze like captured stars, casting a golden sheen over marble floors polished to a mirrored gleam. The air is laced with perfume, wine, and the unmistakable weight of watching eyes.

Noblemen pause mid-conversation. Princesses lower their fans. Musicians falter—only briefly—before recovering the rhythm of the waltz. But the moment has shifted. Something is not as expected.

You step into the light.

A vision in cascading layers of mist-blue and gold, your gown flowing like storm clouds chasing dawn, delicate florals stitched into the bodice with thread finer than any spider’s silk. Jewels glitter across your collarbone like droplets of starlight.

You are exactly what they hoped to see.

As you glide down the steps murmurs here and there whisper about the unknown gentlemen beside you.

And then—like cracks in fine porcelain—the whispers begin to slip through:

"I've never seen him before."

"How unusual… quite scandalous, if you ask me."

"He is rather dashing."

You hear them. Of course you do. Every syllable—cloaked in silk and poison—brushes your ears like a breeze trying to stir the flame of gossip. Still, you keep your head high, your expression unreadable.

He doesn’t flinch either. His stride is easy, almost lazy, as though he’s immune to noble scrutiny. His golden eyes scan the crowd with the confidence of someone used to walking in and owning a room—regardless of whether he was invited.

Your mother’s eyes narrow, sharp and calculating behind her queenly smile. Your father remains unreadable, but his gaze lingers a fraction too long on the man beside you.

The music quiets again, this time not because it was asked to—but because the court can’t seem to decide what matters more: the crown jewel, or the mystery on your arm.

The orchestra begins to play.

The first waltz of the evening rises—soft strings and swelling chords unfolding like silk through the air. A sacred moment. A ritual, really. The first dance is reserved for the future sovereign and their betrothed. A symbol of unity.

Of destiny.

You quite frankly despise that word.

“Destiny.”

It tastes like cold iron on your tongue. Bitter. Presumptuous.

As if someone, somewhere, had already penned the ending to your story— and now expects you to smile politely as they read it aloud.

Who decides they have the right to choose your path in life? Whose pen signed away your freedom before you even learned to write your name?

And now they watch.

Dozens of noble faces turned to you—powdered, polished, expectant. The subtle sneers tucked behind lace fans and champagne flutes.

These people couldn't care less if you were to storm out of this ballroom. They don’t care who you are, what you feel, or even if you falter.

They care only for what it means to be here. What it benefits them to be seen standing close to the crown. To witness a spectacle.

And you'll give them a spectacle alright

You turn to face him.

He’s already waiting—poised, composed, eyes fixed solely on you. Without a word, he bows low, a hand pressed respectfully to his chest, the other extended in silent invitation.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t need to.

The music swells around you, rich and commanding, curling like smoke through the grand hall. It pulls at you—like a tide rising to drag you into the center of the storm.

You pause. Just for a moment.

Long enough for whispers to shift to silence. Long enough for every gaze to lock on you, tension shimmering beneath crystal chandeliers.

This isn’t how the story was meant to go. This isn’t the man they were promised would stand at your side.

And yet—

You lift your hand and place it in his, deliberate and unwavering.

His fingers close around yours—firm, warm, without hesitation—and with effortless grace, he draws you forward. The space between you vanishes, and the two of you begin to move in perfect sync, as though the steps were carved into your bones.

A waltz. A scandal. And, somehow, the beginning of something far more dangerous than either.

“Well, 'Your Highness',” he murmurs, voice low and edged with amusement as you glide across the floor, “I didn’t expect you to fall this far out of line.”

Your eyes narrow, but you say nothing.

“Humor me,” you say, your voice low and sharp, edged with command. “To whom do you belong? Kingdom? Court? Bloodline?”

A beat passes. Your gaze doesn’t waver.

“Related to royalty, perhaps?”

He lets out the softest chuckle, amused—almost impressed.

“Quite bold now, aren’t we?” he replies, eyes gleaming as if he’s enjoying a private joke. “I’m surprised Her Majesty could be so—”

“Don’t you dare call me that."

The words slice the air like a blade.

His smile falters—just for a breath. And in that breath, you remind him exactly who holds the power on this floor.

The words come out sharper than steel, and it stops him mid-step. Just for a breath.

He recovers quickly, but not quick enough to hide the flicker of surprise in his expression.

“I do recall you—”

“Silence.”

Your voice cuts through the music, quiet but searing.

“I ask the questions.”

With a sharp pivot, you spin out of his grasp, the skirt of your gown flaring like flame.

And just as swiftly, he pulls you back in—closer than before. The swell of the orchestra blooms around you, dramatic and unrelenting. Every eye in the room lingers, hungry for scandal, but none of it matters now.

You’ve just declared war— And it’s being fought between your fingers, step by step, breath by breath.

“I am not some naïve, prospering heir—dazzled by silks and flattery, unable to tell when I’m being lied to.”

You meet his gaze unflinchingly.

“You have no title to your name. No court to claim you. And you are certainly not here to mingle among the upper ranks of society without some ulterior motive.”

A flicker in his expression—something unreadable. Not denial. Not guilt. Just... interest. Still, he says nothing. Only holds your gaze and matches your steps with practiced elegance.

And that silence, somehow, is louder than anything he could have said.

The music begins to fade, the final notes trailing off like whispers in a vast hall.

You both slow to a graceful stop, the space between you charged with unsaid things. He bows with practiced ease, and you respond in kind with a curtsy—measured, composed, though your heart is anything but.

Without a word, he takes your hand and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. A gesture far too gentle for someone who’s just been dancing at the edge of a blade.

Then, without hesitation, he turns on his heel and steps into the throng of nobles, vanishing like smoke into silk and shadows.

“Where do you think you’re off to?” you call after him, not loud—but sharp enough to cut through the murmurs.

He doesn’t stop walking, only glances back over his shoulder with that same insufferably calm smile.

“Just like you said, Your Highness… I have business to attend to.”

And just like that, he disappears.

You’re left standing at the edge of the ballroom, hand still slightly raised, gaze fixed on the sea of faceless elegance he vanished into. The chandeliers above gleam like stars, but the pit in your stomach says this night has only just begun.

You don't know his name.

But somehow, you know this won’t be the last time he dances into your life—and leaves you questioning everything.

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785172890823901184/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 1!)

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785242803458473984/will-you-be-mine?source=share (Part 2!)

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785270656459735040/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 3!)

[icythot68]

CALLING ALL WRITERS ON TUMBLR!

Heyyy so I recently started with a series, Will you be mine? BNHA! x princess reader (highly recommend you check that out :) and there are only 3 chapters out right now but I'm planning on posting A LOT more soon.

The ordeal I am currently dealing with rn is that I kind of want to put it into a playlist or portfolio of some sort but I don't know how.

Any advice?

P.S. a handful of you authors have really aesthetically pleasing profiles and background if possible can you also just pop what you did in the comment section

Thank you!

[icythot68]

Will you be mine?

BNHA! x princess reader!

The maids move around you like gentle breezes, their fingers careful as they fasten the final details of your ballgown. You stand still, arms slightly outstretched, as layer by layer the dress begins to take form around you—not just a garment, but a statement. A legacy.

The gown is a masterwork of elegance and craftsmanship—its color fading like a twilight sky, from a dusky midnight blue at the waist to a soft, glowing ivory at the hem. Each ruffled layer of the skirt cascades like waves, edged in the faintest shimmer of gold thread, catching the candlelight like sun on water.

The bodice hugs your form with the precision of armor, though it’s nothing short of divine. Embroidered golden vines wind across the corset, blooming into delicate metallic flowers that seem to grow from your very skin. The sheer sleeves fall weightlessly from your shoulders, billowing with every breath, embroidered with matching golden petals that seem suspended mid-air.

They adjust your sleeves, fasten the final hooks, and place the coronet delicately in your hair—more delicate than the full crown you’ll wear later, but no less heavy in meaning. You thank them with a soft nod, and one by one, they curtsy and leave you in silence.

You cross to the window, drawn like a tide to the light spilling in.

Outside, the evening has unfurled in full splendor. Carriages gleam beneath the lantern light, drawn by horses adorned in gold-threaded harnesses. Banners ripple in the breeze—each one bearing the sigil of a visiting kingdom. The air below buzzes with laughter, greetings, and the gentle thrum of anticipation.

You press your fingertips lightly to the glass.

There, stepping down from a sleek obsidian carriage, is Prince Todoroki—cloaked in silver and midnight blue. His gaze is unreadable even from this distance, posture stiff with practiced composure.

Moments later, Duke Midoriya appears beside his delegation—green accents glowing like fresh spring among the formality of black and gold. He’s smiling, nervous in that way he always is when the room is too big and too focused on him.

And then—Sir Kirishima.

Stationed near the ballroom entrance, already at his post. He stands in ceremonial attire, not armor, but still every inch a knight. He hasn’t seen you, but the way he holds himself; shoulders square, jaw set and a serious look on his face, he almost looks dream-like.

A knock raps gently against your chamber door.

“Your Highness?” a maid calls softly. “It’s time.”

You don't move for a moment. You just watch—watch the world below, so full of splendor and expectation.

Then you turn. Back straight, head high.

It is time to face the music and step into the lion’s den.

Your dress glides around you like mist as you move across the marble floor, each step a quiet echo in the vast halls. The soft rustle of layered tulle follows behind you, ghostlike and regal. From beyond the corridor, the sounds of celebration rise—the clinking of crystal goblets, the swell of music, the boisterous laughter of nobles already swept into the magic of the evening.

It all feels distant, like a dream playing out behind a velvet curtain.

You pass by columns draped in silks, florals laced with your kingdom’s colors blooming from every alcove. Servants scurry quietly along the edges of the corridor, bowing as you walk past.

You pause for a moment beside a tall, arched window, casting one last glance at the glowing courtyard below. The final carriages have arrived. The final guests are here. The world has taken its place.

Now it waits for you.

Yet as they wait for you, you wait for your escort, it was already highly improper for a princess to wander the castle halls without an escort nor a guard, especially on a night as grand and politically charged as this. Everyone knows that. You know that.

But alas you give grace and blame it on the need of perfection for tonight's ball. So you wait...

And wait...

and wait some more...

A few attendants nearby glance your way but quickly avert their eyes, pretending not to notice the crown jewel of the evening standing utterly alone.

You inhale sharply through your nose, fists curling at your sides. Then, without another thought, you reach down and clutch the hem of your gown—not delicately, not gracefully, but with just enough force to wrinkle the carefully steamed silk.

The fabric rustles with each sharp step across the marble, gold embroidery catching in the candlelight as you speed-walk straight toward the ballroom doors.

But just as you almost made your way to the doors, a hand closes around your arm.

The sudden touch sends a jolt through you and you stumble slightly, your gown pooling awkwardly around your feet as you twist to face whoever dared lay a hand on you.

Only to freeze.

He’s a stranger.

And yet—impossible to ignore.

Golden eyes meet yours, sharp and amused, like he already knows you’ve never seen him before. His face is dusted with soft stubble and a faint scar curves along his jawline—something that might have been earned in a brawl or a war, but worn like it was nothing at all. Tousled blond hair crowns his head like wind-swept fire, and his mouth twitches into a half-smirk as he bows slightly.

But what truly catches your breath—is his attire.

A deep, dark red tuxedo with dramatic tailoring, trimmed in black and gold that mirrors military regality but twisted with personal flair. The lapels are shaped almost like wings, and the back of his coat flares like a whisper of something untamed. He wears the formal like a second skin—like it wasn’t made for him, but by him.

He straightens, still holding your gaze.

“Forgive the forwardness,” he says smoothly, voice like warm smoke. “But it would be a shame for a queen to make her entrance alone.”

You narrow your eyes.

“Who are you?” you ask, your tone edged with royal command.

He looks up then—eyes meeting yours with a gleam of something unreadable.

“A friend,” he says simply. “For now.” He smiles, offering his arm like nothing about this moment is amiss.

“And perhaps a better escort than absence itself, wouldn’t you agree?” Hesitatingly you lock your arm into his, unsure if trusting this stranger might not lead to some trouble ahead.

The doors to the ballroom are just ahead—tall, ornate, and slightly ajar. Beyond them, music rises into a waltz, slow and deliberate. A signal for you to cue your entrance.

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785172890823901184/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 1!)

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785242803458473984/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 2!)

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785419787257937920/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 4!)

[icythot68]

Will you be mine?

BNHA! x princess reader!

You walk through the tall doors of the sun-drenched dining hall, your hand still resting gently on Eijirou’s arm. The scent of rose tea and sugared pastries lingers in the air, but it’s the silence that greets you first.

The soft strains of classical music, once weaving delicately through the air, come to a graceful halt.

One by one, the duchesses and princesses rise from their seats—each a vision of poise and pedigree. They dip into elegant curtsies, their gazes warm but measured. This is tradition, after all. A performance you've all been trained to play flawlessly.

You respond with a soft, graceful nod. Not cold, but careful. Every movement, every blink, must be perfectly balanced: regal, but not distant; gentle, but not weak.

“Your Highness,” one of them says sweetly, her tone perfectly practiced. “We were just about to discuss which of the suitors are most... tolerable.” A light giggle follows, echoing among crystal glasses and porcelain cups.

You offer a small smile, stepping forward to join them, but your thoughts remain tangled—half still lingering in the hallway behind you, where Eijirou stood a little too still, almost as if he might turn into one of the many Greek statues in the room.

You take your seat as a maid quietly pours your tea, and the conversation resumes like nothing ever paused. But beneath the laughter and compliments, something inside you continues to shift—like the moment just before a storm.

“Your Highness?”

The voice cuts softly through your drifting thoughts, pulling you back into the present. You blink, refocusing, and find Lady Ochako watching you with quiet concern from across the table. Her brows are gently knit, a small frown tugging at the corners of her otherwise warm expression.

“You seem awfully quiet this afternoon,” she says gently, voice low and careful. “Is everything alright?”

The table stills. Teacups pause midair. Every set of eyes turns to you, cloaked in curiosity and polite restraint.

You straighten your posture with practiced grace, pressing a small, composed smile to your lips. “I’m quite fine, thank you. It must be that new illness going around—just a touch of it, I think. You know how pollen can be this time of year.”

A few of the girls nod knowingly, the tension at the table loosening slightly. A duchess near the end murmurs something about “spring always being dreadful on the sinuses,” and conversation cautiously resumes.

But Lady Ochako's gaze lingers a second longer than the rest. Not judging—just knowing. She’s always been more observant than most.

You lower your eyes to your tea, swirling the amber liquid in its cup, wishing for just a moment that someone would call your bluff. That someone would say You’re not fine, and that’s alright.

But no one does.

“So, Your Highness,” Lady Yaoyorozu says, her voice smooth as silk as she sets her teacup down with a soft clink. “I hear you have quite the line-up for tonight.”

You glance up, already bracing for what’s coming.

“I’m not the jealous kind,” she continues, folding her hands delicately in her lap, “but you are a quite the lucky woman to be in the interest of Prince Todoroki.”

There’s a ripple of interest around the table. A few raised brows. A couple of polite smirks. Even Ochako leans back slightly, eyes narrowing with curiosity.

You smile, measured and diplomatic. “Yes, Prince Todoroki is… impressive.”

Which, technically, isn’t a lie. He’s everything a future king should be—poised, powerful, impossibly composed. But his presence unsettles you in a way that’s hard to explain. Like standing too close to a frozen lake: beautiful, but uncertain. You never quite know how deep the ice goes—or when it might crack.

Her Grace Yaoyorozu leans in slightly. “They say he’s as brilliant in diplomacy as he is in swordsmanship. Some even call him the future of the Eastern Alliance.”

There’s a gleam in her eye—not jealousy exactly, but something adjacent to it. Admiration laced with ambition. You wonder, briefly, if she’d have fought to be in your place, had the stars aligned differently.

You take another sip of your tea, letting the warmth center you. “He’s certainly been well-groomed for his role.”

“But,” Ochako interjects gently, breaking the unspoken tension, “that doesn’t mean he’s the right one. Being impressive isn’t the same as being kind.”

“Are you speaking in terms of Duke Midoriya?” Princess Tsuyu—Tsui to those closest—asks with a hint of mischief, her tone dry but unmistakably playful.

Ochako’s eyes widen just a fraction before a pink flush blooms across her cheeks. She quickly lifts her teacup, as if it might hide the warmth rising to her face.

“I—I wasn’t referring to anyone in particular,” she stammers, though her voice carries the kind of flustered charm that only makes the rest of the girls exchange knowing glances.

A few light giggles ripple around the table.

“Oh, come now,” Her Grace Yaoyorozu says, smiling genuinely this time. “Everyone knows Duke Midoriya has been the apple of your eye for years.”

Ochako lets out a nervous laugh, her blush deepening. “He’s just… very polite.”

Tsui raises a brow. “Polite, loyal, brave, and single. Sounds like a rare species.”

You can’t help but smile at the exchange—genuine this time. For a moment, the pressures of the ball, the crown, the alliances, fade. It’s just the sound of girls being girls, caught in a brief, suspended moment where no one is expected to be perfect.

“But… isn’t Duke Midoriya attending the ball tonight?” you ask, feigning innocence, though the glint in your eye says otherwise.

Ochako nearly chokes on her tea. “He—he is?”

Tsuyu nods slowly, sipping her tea with serene amusement. “Of course. He arrived with Prince Todoroki’s envoy. Didn’t you know?”

Ochako’s blush returns in full force, now reaching the tips of her ears. “I—no, I didn’t. I wasn’t informed.”

Her Grace Yaoyorozu chuckles softly. “Well, you are now.”

You lean slightly toward Ochako, whispering just loud enough for her to hear, “You’d make a fine duchess, you know.”

Ochako covers her mouth to hide her embarrassed grin, eyes twinkling.

And as the laughter flows again, you realize how rare and precious these quiet moments are—these stolen breaths before the plunge.

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785419787257937920/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 4!)

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785270656459735040/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 3!)

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785172890823901184/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 1!)

[icythot68]

Will you be mine?

BNHA! x princess reader!

The days of cold, merciless winter come to an end and Spring is in bloom. The flowers in season and the bees and butterflies come to feast on its nectar. In this case you are the flower and those hungry bees and butterflies are your suitors who have to come ask for your hand in marriage because tonight is not just the night in which you find your husband but also the night in which your coronation is announced to every kingdom in the land.

You’ve trained for this day your entire life: endless lessons in grace, diplomacy, and duty. Yet for all the preparation, the reality still feels distant, surreal. And somehow, despite the fog of uncertainty, you understand exactly what’s expected of you.

But the thought of becoming someone’s bride? It overwhelms you. Terrifies you.

Is that all you’re meant to be? A wife draped in silk and silence? A vessel for heirs, bound by obligation rather than love? The question echoes in your mind like a quiet rebellion: Is this truly the life you were born for… or are you merely deciding this is your path because you were born into this role?

“The dress, Your Highness?”

You blink, pulled from your thoughts, and glance down at your lady-in-waiting before turning back to the mirror. The gown stares back at you, a breathtaking creation of deep blue, soft white, and threads of glinting gold. The colors of your kingdom, stitched into every inch with care and expectation.

It’s beautiful. Undeniably so.

And yet, there’s a weight to it, a quiet heaviness that settles over your shoulders before the crown ever does. You admire it, even as a part of you wonders if this is truly a symbol of honor… or just another layer of silk-wrapped surrender.

You step down from the pedestal, the hem of your gown trailing behind you. Your maids move wordlessly, unfastening laces and unpinning jewels with practiced ease, slipping you out of the ceremonial weight and into something lighter—though no less formal.

A small mercy, granted by your parents.

This afternoon, you’re allowed a brief reprieve: tea with the other visiting duchesses, princesses and noble women. A carefully orchestrated moment of “normalcy” among those who know all too well what it means to be groomed for a throne. Not quite freedom—but perhaps something close enough to breathe for a while.

You quietly dismiss your maids with a gentle wave, the soft rustle of their skirts retreating down the corridor. At last, you're alone. Or so you think.

You turn toward the mirror once more, hoping—just for a breath—to see yourself and not the crown. To gather your thoughts. To grieve the girl you once were before the title swallowed her whole.

But before that moment can come, a knock echoes from the door.

Sharp. Measured. Not urgent, but purposeful.

“You may enter,” you say, eyes still fixed on your reflection, searching for the version of yourself you once knew.

In the corner of your eye, the door opens quietly.

And there he stands—your knight in shining armor—Sir Eijirou Kirishima.

Tall, steady, with a presence that fills the room without a word. His armor gleams softly in the afternoon light, but it’s his gentle gaze that truly catches you—the one that says he’s been there all along, even when no one else was.

He steps forward, offering a bow—not out of ceremony, but out of loyalty.

“You have some visitors whom are requesting to see you, Your Highness,” he says, voice calm, steady, and somehow reassuring.

And for the first time today, the weight on your shoulders feels just a little lighter.

You step away from the solitude of your chambers, Sir Eijirou’s steady arm supporting you as you make your way down the marble halls. The soft click of your shoes against the polished floor blends with the distant murmur of preparations for the afternoon tea.

As you walk, your mind drifts back—back to the days when life was simpler, before crowns and coronations.

Eijirou has been there since you were children—your protector, your confidant, the one constant in a world of shifting shadows.

You remember the scraped knees he tended to after reckless adventures in the castle gardens, the quiet words he offered when the court felt too loud.

He was never just a knight; to you, he was a brother, a guardian, a steady heartbeat amidst the chaos.

Now, as his arm holds you with calm assurance, you realize how much you’ve depended on him. Not just for protection from swords and politics, but for something far harder to guard against—fear, doubt, and loneliness.

The ladies of the court await you in the sunlit dining hall, their laughter floating through the air like delicate music. But for a brief moment, with Eijirou by your side, you feel grounded—reminded that beneath the weight of expectation, you are still yourself.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you confess quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You both stop in your tracks, Eijirou glances down at you a mix of confusion and concern in his eyes

“The ball?”

You nod, fingers tightening slightly around his arm. "Everyone is depending on me to be perfect and it feels as if I can't breathe. It all just feels so very wrong."

He lets out a low breath, as if feeling the weight of your words. “I’ve watched you prepare for this day your whole life. You’re stronger than you know. But…” He pauses, his gaze drifting toward the corridor ahead.

He turns to face you, gently holding both of your arms in his grasp.

"You’ve always done what was expected of you,” he says eventually. “But that doesn’t mean you have to lose yourself in it.”

His words settle in your chest like a stone. You want to believe them, but the crown is heavy—even when it hasn’t yet touched your head.

There’s a pause in your steps as you glance up at him. “Will you be there tonight?”

Eijirou hesitates—just for a heartbeat—but then offers a soft smile. “Of course. Where else would I be?”

You search his face, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. It’s familiar, that guarded expression. You’ve seen it before

When he’s holding something back.

You want to ask, What aren’t you telling me?

But the words never make it past your lips.

Instead, you just nod, and start walking again. The sunlit doors draw nearer. The world waits on the other side.

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785242803458473984/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 2!)

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785270656459735040/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 3!)

https://www.tumblr.com/icythot68/785419787257937920/will-you-be-mine?source=share (PART 4!)

[icythot68]

Just a little more~

Night had settled over the city like a heavy blanket, suffocating the last traces of warmth from the air. The streets were empty, abandoned to the hum of distant traffic and the soft hiss of wind slipping between alleyways. This unescapable mist wrapped itself around everything—sharp, biting, and impersonal. This unbearable coldness seeped into your bones, indifferent to the flimsy barrier of your skimpy dress.

You’re walking home from your first (and definitely last) Tinder date.

The bastard had the audacity to show up late, reeking of some cheap cologne and smugness. Called you "babe" before you even sat down. Talked over you, bragged about things no one asked, and even got a little too up and personal.

You annoyingly reached for your phone, camouflaging it under the table, fingers flying across your phone. Rage burning just under your skin as if any moment steam could come out of your ears. Call me. Emergency. Now. Your best friend called within minutes, breathless with fake panic, her voice shaky and urgent. He barely looked up when you said you had to go. Just smirked. “Rain check?” he asked, like he’d earned one.

You didn’t answer. You just left.

all the bad memory did was leave a bitter taste in your mouth and did nothing to distract you from this winter night.

And now the wind is behind you again, tugging at your dress, lifting strands of your hair like it’s trying to get your attention. But it’s not playful. Not gentle. It feels... aware. Too close.

You begin to walk faster...

Heels clacking too loudly on the cracked sidewalk, echoing off the walls of shuttered shops and empty bus stops. Every sound felt magnified in the stillness. The whisper of leaves. The tap of your footsteps. The distant metallic creak of something unseen.

The lampposts stood like weary sentinels, casting dull pools of yellow light that barely touched the darkness between them. Their glow flickered now and then, weak and unreliable, as if they, too, were trying to stay awake. Shadows stretched long and strange across the pavement, warping with each passing breeze.

And then, a sound. Soft. Behind you. Not the wind. Not your own footsteps. Something slower. Measured.

You stop.

Nothing.

You glance over your shoulder. The street is still.

Too still.

You keep walking, faster now, trying to convince yourself it’s nothing. But the breeze picks up again, whispering across your skin like it knows something you don’t.

And maybe—it’s not the only thing following you.

[icythot68]

AOT CHARACTERS REACTING TO BEING ASKED BY THEIR S/O IF THEY COULD HELP THEM SHAVE DOWN THERE P2!

Hange:

-Didn't even need to go ask them. They we're standing outside your bedroom with a razor in their hand

-Honestly you don't even know if she was experimenting with something that needed a razor or just being a bitch about it

-They want to do your ass hair as well

-Got a little too excited and cut you... twice

-In their words "If you stopped squirming I wouldn't have cut you"

-The same MF that gets random uncontrolled shivers for no reason

-But I digress

-Honestly don't reccommend this little psycho to my worst enemy

-However they did put on a movie for you guys to watch later

4/10

Erwin:

-Such a normal adult about it

-Literally would do anything you ask because he loves you so much

-Like a landscape gardener he trims you up real nice

-Swear this man was a barber in his past life because this man pulled out essential oils and creams

-Wouldn't even be surprised if he popped out a little pussy hairdryer out of nowhere

-You squeaky clean and feel like a baby's bottom

10/10

Levi:

-"No"

-You didn't even ask him the question

-Dealing with little shits like him is like trying to teach a deaf dog to speak spanish

-"Fine I'll just go ask (random ass MALE person)"

-Literally got up so fast and threw you onto his shoulder

-Man is an ACKERMAN there is NOTHING that he CAN"T DO

-Gives you a dirty look the entire time and says that's his "resting face" fucking cunt-

-Walks away when he is immedietly done

-He doesn't want to help you with anything else after a while

-"Hey babe! Can yo-

-"No"

0/10 (because he was a being moody like he was on his period or smth)

[icythot68]

AOT CHARACTERS REACTING TO BEING ASKED BY THEIR S/O IF THEY COULD HELP THEM SHAVE DOWN THERE

Eren:

-Confused girls even grew hair down there but soon turned to excitement because he gets to see you naked (I heavily believe adult Eren would be so childish and immature)

-Asks which size pussy you have

-Manage to almost cut you 3 times even with a kid friendly razer 

-Even when you guys are already finished he would make excuses just so he stare at your pussy for longer. 

-Smacks your ass after

7/10 (only because he was funny during the process)

Armin:

-Shy baby, so willing to do everything for you

-Has to hype himself up as if he was going into battle 

-Boy knows a lot of the human anatomy from reading so many books.

 “Did you know it’s possible for the clit to disappear during orgasm?”  He’s saying this while spreading your lips apart 

-Offers to shave your ass

8/10 

Connie:

-Coming from a guy who has no hair he’s pretty good at getting rid of it (or so you would think) 

-He was doing okay until he brought out the shampoo

-He thought he was done by just doing the front, you had to remind him about the hairs inside

-Calls sasha afterwards telling her all about it

-2/10

Jean:

-This little shit

-”Of course you need my help.”

-Just by the site he gets so horny

-Gets sidetracked and only starts an hour later 

-Does it surprisingly fast 

10/10

Mikasa:

-Not much to say about her

-She does it obviously because she cares but she silent the whole time 

-It was mad awkward nonetheless you’re smoother than a baby’s bottom

11/10

[icythot68]

strip dance for me please...( reader x obey me boys)

It came up randomly in one conversation between you and Lord Diavolo, he was interested in the many dance genres there were in the human world, the pure intention of wanting to know more about the human realm and hopefully wishing you could teach him a step here and there.

When you said that you learned something in a class, he was ecstatic and asked if you would show him, agreeing he told Barbatos to clear some space in a ballroom and before you knew it everyone from house lamentation and Purgatory hall came to support you.

Once everybody except Luke was seated, for some uncanny reason you chased him away, explaining that lights would hurt his eyes or something on the lines of that, after much talking and persuading the angel went to sit and pout outside the room.

The lights were dimmed and the music started to play, a dark red hue was casted on your long black trousers and white buttoned up shirt, leaving a few buttons open for enough of your collarbone to be seen.

Your movements started off slow in tune with the music, hips swaying to the beat. Everything was going so well and on cue when the beat dropped you pulled a string and the bucket of water splashed on your head.

Oh MC what have you done...

Lucifer 

-He knew you were up to something but this, my hat goes off to you for making this man blush 

-The blinding lights kept flashing his eyes but his focus was on that damned white shirt you were unbuttoning and when you threw it he didn’t bother to delay his movement swiftly catching it with one hand 

-When you decided to crawl on the floor, he had to take a deep breath, dude was on the edge of his seat.

-His eye twitched when you got onto Lord Diavolo’s lap, he had to contain himself when you allowed him to touch you.  

-when you threw him a wink and a smile he couldn’t take it anymore he definitely is going to punish you with his belt when you two get home, he won’t be going soft on you this time 

Mammon

-Spat his drink out on Levi

-WHAT’S HIS HUMAN DOING!!!! HE SHOULD BE THE ONLY ONE SEEING THIS RN!!!

-He didn’t jump out of his seat just so his stupid older brother could get that shirt!!!!!!!

-Tried covering everyone’s eyes at one point

-When you sat onto Lord Diavolo’s lap, Barbatos had to hold him back so he couldn’t interrupt you

-When you purposefully bit your lip at him he malfunctioned 

-Didn’t let anyone else touch you afterwards, stuck to you like glue for the next 3 days.

Levithan 

-Started yelling at Mammon instantly shutting up when he saw you 

-His face is more redder than Mammon’s demonus 

-Covered his eyes with his hands, peaked through so he could still watch

-When you sat on Lord Diavolo’s lap he curled up into a little ball and started sulking.

-When you happened to look his direction he fainted

-Refuses to believe anyone if they said it wasn’t a bad dream even though Asmo showed him the video

Satan

-Impressed he didn’t think you had it in you 

-His first instinct was to see Lucifer’s reaction to make sure this was real 

-After seeing that “You fucked up” smile that Lucifer usually does when someone is in trouble he couldn’t help but have a shit eating grin on for the rest of the show 

-Not because you’re totally gonna get it when you get home but because Lucifer is upset AND his lover is an amazing dancer. He is the happiest demon alive. 

-Broke his glass into pieces when you climbed onto Dia’s lap

-The pout you sent him sealed your fate.

-You’re so fucked later  

Asmo

-Such a huge fangirl for you already, immediately grabbed his DDD and started filming 

-Cheered until the end 

-got a bit jealous when you sat on Dia’s lap but encouraged you anyways

-when you made a hush movement with your finger on your lips to the camera he was screaming

-Wants you to give him a private dance later. 

Beel

-’I didn’t know MC could do that this burger is so good’

-Indifferent it’s not like he didn’t care he just thinks the chaos is normal

-Wants to eat a snack with you later 

Belphie

-He isn’t so sleepy anymore after that

-Dude has more than enough energy to run a marathon 

-Was so into the show that he punched Mammon because he tried to cover his eyes. 

-when you climbed into Diavolo’s lap he wished he was asleep again so he didn’t have to see that. 

-Yeah... he didn’t like that one bit 

-He wants to go home 

Solomon: 

-He already knew what was going to happen but is still surprised you followed through 

-Can’t help but laugh at Simeon’s face 

-Just like Asmo he was also cheering you on 

-Definetely got a boner halfway into the show

-Was planning different types of hexes to put on Diavolo when you climbed onto his lap

-He wanted you to do it again but before you could answer everyone yelled “NO” well except for Dia which he seemed more than happy to let you.

Simeon:

-Oh my goodness!

-He looks like he’s seen a ghost 

-He felt like what was happening infront of him was so wrong but felt so right at the same time 

-He passed out for a little bit then woke up 

-Realised what was happening then passed out again 

-Didn’t even last 10 minutes when he went to go sit with Luke outside 

-Still traumatised till this day 

Barbatos:

-Also knew you we’re going to do this 

-He couldn’t really watch properly because he still had a duty to serve his guests and Diavolo 

-Felt infuriated when you climbed into his lord’s lap but couldn’t really do anything because he was holding a crying mammon 

-Asked Asmo for the recording the next day.

Diavolo:

-To put in short words it was a “pleaseant surprise”

-He feels like such a proud dad 

-That was until you climbed onto his lap he felt a little differently after that stunt

-Shamelessly grinded into you  

-He slips in some cash into your pants without anyone seeing 

-He didn’t want the show to end but is so glad that Asmo has a recording 

Luke: 

-Has no Idea in the world what is going on 

-He tried to eavesdrop and was disapointed that he wasn’t invited to the “party”

-He eventually forgets about it until one day he was baking by himself and he needed the recipe online 

-He stumbles onto the video and in shock runs to show Simeon 

-In horror he passes out again 

[icythot68]

Babe! I need toiletpaper! P2

SAY DADDY'S HOME!!!

sorry kids I had to take a lunchbreak but I will be more active, my requests and messages are open. I will post a seperate note of what I will and will not write but besides that let's get onto the story

Kagami

-I headcannon he would be playful in a relationship

-So normally that would involve playing merciless pranks on each other

-hOwEvEr

-He’s been a little too kind to you lately why not pay back the favour?

-Buying spicy takeout and using the bathroom just after doesn’t seem too suspicious at first

-It was the calling after him for toiletpaper instead of casually walking to the cupboard with your pants down to get another one

-But now he’s overthinking and contradicting himself because..It’s you

-He’s already got the toiletpaper and handing towards you

-With an amazing idea you pretend to look confused at his shirt and the clueless man he is, checks if he has anything on there. 

-Phase two activated 

-You flicked his nose wiping some nice wet PB on the tip 

-Stunned as he should be, he speedily goes to the mirror

-After a few minutes you got a bit worried. Was he really that mad? 

-Getting up you feel his shoulder and call his name then suddenly 

-TIMBER!!!!!!!!

- yeah dude pale as a ghost falls to the floor unconcious 

-Has no recollection of what happened 

-This never happened 

5.2/10

Kuroko 

-A confusing little nugget 

-He either likes something or he doesn’t both he isn’t vocal about 

-With that said you were kind of hesitant about it 

-Pretending to have diarrhoea is a lot harder than it sounds 

-Regardless he looks so concerned and you almost feel bad about carrying out with your plan 

-Instead of just giving you what you “needed” and leaving, he sits on the floor and keeps you company 

-You guys had such a nice time hanging out with each other that you even forget what you we’re doing in the first place. 

-”So I’m guessing your ‘stomach problems’ went away?” He says air quoting 

-”How did you know?” 

-”Because I came in here earlier when you we’re setting up your prank.” 

-”And you didn’t say anything?”

-”No, because I like hanging out with you.” he says before resting his head on your thigh 

12/10 

Murasakibara:  

-No because you actually did need to go to the bathroom with all that sweet crap that he keeps on making you eat. 

-He takes like more than half an hour to just fetch you a simple toilet roll because he “couldn’t find his liquorice” 

-I mean it was karma when he hit his head against the door frame of the bathroom door 

-NOT THE POINT 

-When you reach for the roll he decided he wants to be a comedian and lift it so you can’t reach 

-Now this guy is like a whopping 6″10 like you’re literally never gonna get that roll 

-So you have to go for his bits... the liquorice 

-I mean he gave you no other choice? 

-Swear you never saw that man move faster for sweets than he does for basketball 

-He looks at the ‘poop’ on his treat 

-Then back at you

-Back to his treat 

-Then back to you again 

-Could fucking care less and takes a huge chomp out of it 

-I mean it wasn’t real shit but still that’s mad disgusting 

-7/10 (that says negative seven out of ten for those confused) 

Midorima:

-The stars we’re not aligned for this boy today

-You guys just came back from his basketball practise meaning man was going to go take a shower 

-This was the perfect time to not only see him strip BUT to also annoy him more than usual today.

-Once he was done cleaning himself you asked him if he could pass the toiletpaper that you guys kept under the sink 

-Begrudgingly he passes it to you 

-The poor guy got a armfill of ‘y/n’s forbidden peanut butter’ 

-There we’re not enough words in the human dictionary that could describe the phases of grief this man went through

-It’s been a few hours and he’s still salty about the whole ‘ordeal’ 

-Legend says he’s still not talking till this day 

2/10

[icythot68]

saiki headcannon

There is something so sexy about seeing Kusuo get angry, the first time you saw it you swore you almost had an orgasm. Normally when he gets mad around a certain group of people he tries his best to not show any emotion rather than slamming a brick on top of their head, causing them to tumble out of the nearest window however when it comes to family matters *cough* his father *cough* and conicidently no one else that doesn’t know about his secret is not around his more than glad to make him suffer or blackmail him.

Especially talking about this one time you went over to the saiki’s recidence much to the pyschic’s dismay (just another bunch of bs about you being a bother and what other crap he pulls out of his ass) *shoutout to mrs Saiki for calling him out*

Anyways

A bunch of hugs and coffee jelly giving later you’re chilling on the couch watching a christmas movie and the mug you were drinking hot chocolate out of shattered and ruined mrs Saiki’s beautiful sweater she knitted for kusuo that just so happened to be in your possession and part of your outfit. 

However you weren’t not the only one having a bad day as a less than fortunate Saiki got his clothes set on fire, you could care less what the reason was, the smell of burnt coffee jelly might have given it away nonetheless, you were more focused on a specific pink headed boy because how else would his father get set to flames and that’s when you saw it. 

Maybe it was the sadastic smrik that was so out of character or how he showed more emotion than you have ever seen coming from him, that if it weren’t for you already sitting down your knees would buckle and go into automatic doggy style

You didn’t know what it was but thinking about the way that if those dark hooded eyes were directed at you made your panties wet and not in the under 18 way. Jumping onto your feet you run past him and up those stairs towards his bedroom.

‘where you going’ 

‘fetching another sweater and masturbating on your bed.’

‘good grief’

[icythot68]

Babe! i need toiletpaper! y/n x GOM! boys

so for context besically you decided to prank your boyfriend by pretending to wipe your sh*t on them ( To be extra disgusting you got the chunky peanut butter for this one)

Kise 

-Once you called out after him you tried your best not to laugh, snickering silently towards the camera you’ve hidden in your shared bathroom. 

-Privacy is non-existant between you two so he walks shamelessy in with the toilet paper and gives you a kiss on the forehead. 

-Showing your undying gratitude towards the blonde, you grab his forearm so he can lean down to kiss your lips

-That was until he felt something wet on his arm...

-That’s when it all went down 

-To the moment when his eyes bulged out of his eye sockets to him screaming so high that you though your ear drums would burst.

-you lost your shit when he started to run around, trying to shake it off

-It was all fun and games until he hit his head against the edge of the shower  glass and passed out 

-lots of cuddles and apologies later

-he does laugh at the video later and promises to get you back 

9.2/10

Aomine

-another one that doesn’t care if you’re naked or not (he does prefer you naked but anyways)

-so instead of hiding the camera you pretend you were shooting a video for your Youtube channel. 

-boy was a little sus in the beginning but he trusted you (shouldn’t have honestly) 

-so dude is horny 25/8 that should be cannon with the amount of porn magazines he has

-starts suggesting things towards the camera and that you guys should make a different video togather 

-getting embarassed you totally forgot about the prank you were doing, so when you push his face away from the camera and you, both of you guys were shocked to say the least

-He feels his face and when the moment of realisation hits him he starts gagging. 

-He vomits in the sink; on the floor; and even a little on you when you swerved trying to avoid him so he can use the toilet 

-both of you are traumatised after this

4/10

Akashi 

-You guys borrowed his dad’s lakehouse for the weekend so you can properly do this without one of his maids coming to help you.

-respects your privacy and asks if he can come in

-tries to do the in and out but not before you can give him a love tap

-”Thank you my love” you cheekily smile but your smile fades as soon as it came once he turned around 

-”It seems my pants are now dirty.” He slowly removes the clothing while still maintaining eye contact with you. “You’re bottoms are also off, so this should make it much easier.” 

-A few moments later 

-Admits that he knew because he saw the camera the moment he walked in 

-In all honestly you would do it again because yeah :)

 7/10

[icythot68]

rockstar eren x reader

“I don’t see why you could find this fun.” Eren peaked over your shoulder as you held his phone in your hand, scrolling through endless amount of pictures in his gallery.

 “Your fans need to know more about you and I’m more willing to give them some insight about your personal life.” Tilting your head to the side you caught your boyfriend rolling his eyes before walking to the fridge.

 “More about me you say, but I think you just want to show me off because they can’t have what we have.”

 “precisely”