#but he's pretty in a western dress too!

[ceryulean]

Day 4: Crossdress!

without the wig!

bonus: western dress!

#hirano to kagiura #hirano and kagiura #kagiura akira #niibashi juuya #niibashi #kagiura #cross dressing #kagi wearing a kimono because I thought it'd be pretty! #& I thought it was more fitting than a western dress lol #but he's pretty in a western dress too! #my art #doodles #kagiuraweek2024

[starfxkr]

western nights (pt. 1)

pairing: older!trailer park!jj x reader

summary: jj maybank knows he's too old to be messing around with a young girl like you, but he does it anyways

warnings: age gap, smut (fingering), that's p much it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

jj was known for bein a sleaze around the trailer park. a two time felon who's doing his best to lay low by taking odd jobs around the complex so the feds don't come knocking at his door. you could catch him doing anything from mowing lawns to helping out the grandmas who's sons long stopped coming to check on them. girls came and went out of his trailer at all times of the day--clothes askew and hair messy.

but once he set his eyes on you, everyone else went out the window. he'd known of you of course, having grown up in the complex you're whole life but you were nothing more than one of many little shits running around in a little conglomerate of cheese puff fingers and sugar highs. he paid you no mind, maybe you were one of the kids he's bought crappy water pistols for, maybe not. one summer though, one summer he's on your lawn fixing your car because your mom asked, and there you were-- sitting pretty on your lawn chair reading some trashy book in what he thinks is the smallest dress he's ever seen.

the two of you lock eyes and from then on he's always finding a reason to sniff around you.

each time you pass by jj's place he lets out a whistle, sayin "wish the girls looked as good as you when i was that age." and you just roll your eyes and keep walking. he always finding something to fix around your house and your mom becomes more and more enamored with him not noticing he only has eyes for you.

it all comes to a head during a birthday party--your mom's to be exact. the whole little block is drinking, kids running around, barbecue in the air but you're sitting across from him in his too hot trailer trying to wrangle a beer out of him.

"you even old enough to drink yet? you still got one baby fat on ya." he pinches your cheek and you smack him away with a scoff, leaning over with your hands on either sides of his hips on the couch

"does it matter? you're gonna give it to me anyways." the little pout on you face makes his dick twitch in his jeans, and he makes no effort to hide his growing erection.

"nuh uh little girl, gonna need to see some i.d." you squeak when he pats your ass to 'search' for your wallet, fingers dancing at the hem of your denim skirt and sliding up you shirt to cup your breast, "feels like you're old enough to me."

your eyes flutter shut when he swipes a calloused thumb across your nipple, a tiny hmph of pleasure works it's way past your lips when he pinches the soft flesh.

the beer is quickly forgotten when he lifts your shirt off, wasting no time in getting his mouth on you--licking the sweat from the valley of your breasts and sucking on your neck as you move to sit on his lap.

"should we even be doin this? y'know my mama's realll sweet on you." you pull away from him but make no move to leave.

jj just scoffs and waves it away, running a hand through his blonde hair in irritation, "lots of women are, nothin new, been this way as long as i can remember but it never mattered to me much."

you can tell he wants this conversation to be over, his eyes raking over your body and his fingers tugging at the button to your skirt even as you cross your arms in front of you, "if she finds out we're fucked."

he shrugs, "then don't let her find out."

that's all you need to continue, letting him capture your lips with his, his rough hands travel over your soft skin, stoking the fire building steadily inside of you. despite your veneer of coolness, he can feel your pulse throbbing in your neck under his palm.

"you scared of me or somethin?" his voice is raspy when he whispers against your jaw.

you whimper in reply, "n-no?" even you notice you don't sound too sure--maybe there's a little fear despite your flirting. you wanted to be good for him, you wanted him to like you.

he looks like he doesnt believe you, but he lets it go.

"then get over here." jj yanks you back towards him until your face was tucked into his neck. he doesn't even bother taking your skirt off, just hikes it up and tugs your panties down with a smack on your ass until they're sitting right below the swell of the soft flesh.

the moan that leaves your lips when his fingers graze your clit is almost pornographic, you hadn't even realized how wet you were until you heard the slick sound of his fingers plunging into you with ease. he was obviously skillful, he found that sweet spot inside you with no problem, rubbing it in time with the thumb on your clit while you squeaked and squirmed against him, completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

you were slick and dripping down his palm, doing your best to squirm away from the assault on your pussy but he wouldn't let you, chasing after your thrashing hips and letting out a soft grunt when you sink your teeth into his neck. the way he used his fingers should be a crime--scissoring them open and slowly dragging the pads down your front wall just to hear you mewl like a kitten at the feeling. the thumb on your clit still rubbing in quick, confident circles and he could tell by the way it swelled and throbbed that you were close.

"bet those little boys never made you feel like this huh?" he laughs at you whining response, the answer is extremely apparent by the sound of your growing wetness--your high pitched keen drowned out by the sloshing of your pussy, "there you go sugar, just let it all out."

you choke out a moan and drench him, pussy locking tight around his knuckles as you pulsed, squirting your release all over his lap. there was no way he had you feeling like that just from fingering but here you were, pulse rushing in your ears as he got your clothes back right, sitting you on the couch with a kiss on the forehead as he left to go change seeing as though you soaked his jeans.

when he comes back he lets out a chuckle at the sight of you still sitting there dazed and he finally gives you that beer, "get yourself together aight?" i'll see you back out there.”

it takes you almost 20 minutes to finish the beer, still trembling and pussy aching with the need to be filled. you finally step outside, eyes hazy and brain turned to mush when you notice you don't have your panties on.

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj #western nights

[hotpinkstars]

PREGNANCY CONFLICTS - boothill x reader

- boothill "passes" a few days after you announce your pregnancy. he's soon returned to you as a cyborg, and has a rough time with all of the realizations he discovers during your pregnancy.

- thank u guys sm for all the compliments im getting in my inbox about my idea and my writing i love every single one of u guysssss 💋 💋 and now the fic for my idea is finally here! i hope you guys enjoyyyyy

- mentions of insecurity, PREGNANCY, boothill is sad in this shdjfjsks so pretty much hurt no comfort in a very mild way, "M,d,y" means month, day, year, his way of death is not canon i made something up!!! wc 1.5k

Boothill has always talked about being a father. With how optimistic about your guys’ future he was, you could already tell he’d be a great, great father. So when you announced your pregnancy to him, he was ecstatic.

He spun you around in the air, putting you down to kiss you passionately. To him, all of his dreams have come true. As if you’ve given him a strong purpose in life, to not only protect you but to protect his little, and hopefully more to come.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he held you tightly. “Thank you for giving me such an opportunity.”

But then a few days after you announced it to him, he went missing. You spent day and night trying to contact people, get cops on the case, and go out there with someone yourself and try to find him. The cops brought a necklace, splotched in blood, with your initials on it. Saying they found his body and it was barely recognizable. They knew it was him because of the necklace around his neck and the wedding band that was stuck on a stray tree branch.

As both of those were returned back to you, you felt as if you couldn’t look at them without absolutely breaking down. You were set under the impression that he was gone forever. You felt horrible- not only for yourself, but the life you assumed your baby would have, being born into a world where they only have a mother who's trying her absolute best to provide and make sure their life goes as smoothly as possible.

On the 16th week of your pregnancy was when you heard a knock on the door late at night. Who could it be at this hour? You irritatingly got up and walked over to see who would be there.

It was who you were least expecting.

Boothill.

You stood there, unable to register what was happening. You had a hand on your stomach and the other was gripping the door handle. He stopped and stared at you back before beginning to speak.

“Y/n,” he said, nearly a whisper before he took a step closer to you. You didn’t step back, which was a good thing in his eyes.

“Boothill? What- how- huh?” You were absolutely speechless, unable to register the man standing in front of you. He’s dressed a lot differently then how you last saw him- he looked so western. He was western before he was pronounced dead, the accent is what got you in the first place. He’d always go to bars and all of that.

But he never looked so… out of place.

You’ve never seen the boots he had on before. You’ve never seen those pants (why do they look so slutty?) and his shirt was a whole other thing.

But the thing that intrigued you the most was that he was still standing, alive in front of you, but with a fully metal body.

“Come in and explain yourself,” you sighed, turning around and leading him into the all-too-familiar place. It still smelled the same way it used to, flowers and vanilla. He sat down on the white couch, leaning back into the same fabric he knew all that time ago.

But the difference was, he couldn’t feel it.

“How are you here? There's no way you’re real,” you shake your head, standing up and leaning into his face. You grab his chin lightly, turning his head both way before running your hands through his still silky hair. “Answer my questions.”

“Alright, shoot em.”

“When did you get me pregnant?” You ask, still looking into his now different eyes.

“Four months ago. You should be 16 weeks now.”

You nodded. “When's my birthday…?”

“M,d,y.”

You nodded. He was on it, and it’s convincing you even more that he was your Boothill.

“Lastly, why are you metal?”

“My body was destroyed. Y’ probably remember it,” he looked down at his hands before bringing them up to your cheek. You slightly flinched from the chill before nodding for him to continue his story. “I don’t remember th’ exact details, but jus’ say it was a failed mission.”

You looked at him up and down before sitting beside him.

“D’you still… love me?” He mumbled, almost soft enough that you’d miss it if you weren’t paying attention.

You took a moment of silence before responding to his question. “Of course I do. You’re my husband, Boothill.”

To that he smiled and brought you into a strong kiss. One passionate and greedy- he’s been starved of you as you have of him for the past four months. Once he broke it off, you both connected your foreheads before going back into a full blown make out session.

Your pregnancy is incredibly taxing for the cyborg to handle. Instead of flesh and blood he has metal. He can’t feel you, and to him, it’s the worst feeling in the world. He truly wishes he could turn back time to right before the night of the accident.

He wishes he was able to return home safe, so he could be there for your whole pregnancy. He basically missed the entire first trimester!

At this point, you marked 32 weeks. Your pregnancy was very noticeable and Boothill took a lot of pride in being alongside you, shedding his insecurities as soon as he left the house.

He’s always been a very clingy man. He’s always wanted your touch and attention whenever he’d get home from whatever it was he’d do for work during the day, and he’d always receive it.

But now, he needs to use his head to feel you. He’s always found lying down on your stomach in his free time, so he can feel his child. He is unable to feel kicks with any other parts of his body, so he relies on that.

“‘Hill, I need to go to the bathroom. You might need to move in a second here-” you started, but he looked up at you and began to speak over you.

“Alright, alright… but’cha better come right back, please?”

You nodded before shuffling out of the bed, motioning for him to get up and help you off of the mattress and up on your feet. Once he easily pulls you up, he flops back down as he watches you close the door connected to your room.

He thought hard in those two minutes you were gone. Very hard. To the point he thought he was going to have a breakdown.

He regretted everything. He regretted engaging in the enemy's tricks. He regretted leaving you lonely for so long. And what he regrets most is returning to you like this.

A hunk of metal, who can be destroyed as many times as possible. He’ll always be able to have his body replaced. His head and hair were the only human thing about the man.

He believes you deserve so, so much better. You deserve a man who can live his life to the fullest and actually be able to be there for you during your vulnerable times, and not let grief get in the way. You deserve someone capable of giving you more children in the future, and he believes your baby deserves a dad who can be there for him and be normal.

He might even be worried about judgment. He’s not sure. He feels so emotional yet so dull at the same time.

“Boothill? Is everything alright? You’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for the past minute,” you said from next to him. How did he not even realize your presence?

“Hah? Yea, I’m fine. How’re ya’ feeling?” He says in his usual tone, trying to swiftly play off his thoughts not even ten seconds ago. “How’s baby doin’ in there?”

You let out a soft giggle before placing your hand on his cold knee. “We’re well. I’m concerned about what just happened with you though. Tell me, what is on your mind?”

The man sighs and shakes his head before resting it back on your belly. “Nothin’ to worry your pretty head off about.” He simply left it at that and nothing more.

When it came time for labor, he was truly nervous. Every attempt he made at trying to make physical contact with you in that time failed, because his hands were either too hard or too cold. He backed off and watched from the sidelines as you brought his little baby girl into the world.

He so desperately wanted to hold her, and you could see the urge in his eyes. She looked so much like him. She had his gorgeous silky black and white hair with your eyes. He thought she was an angel brought from heaven.

Once he finally got to hold her, he was told to keep her swaddled in the blanket she was wrapped in. All was well until she started crying due to the cold of his arms, and the baby was taken off into tests before he could even blink.

#boothill #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai #star rail #boothill x reader #tw pregnancy #cw pregnancy #angst #boothill angst

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

Girls night

Paring: Shinobu x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Date night with a lot of sexual tension

Content: Sapphic relationship, Dom shinobu/sub reader, drinking (no ones drunk), finger fucking, ✂️✂️✂️, reader is described to have boobs (Big or medium sized however you wanna think of it kekeke), SMUT👹, public sex.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: Shinobu leaks being shown to me during my Ovulation week??? I swear I need this woman to slut me out.

"Shinobu!!!" You whisper scream at Shinobu, flustered by her words. Shinobu swirls her wine around in your glass and takes her eyes off to look at your flustered expression, "You're acting like anyone will hear me. I did get a private dining room for us in this restaurant, you know," Shinobu teases, letting out a giggle.

"Besides, I am telling the truth. Your boobs sit perfectly in that dress. I love it when you wear western clothing when we go out." Shinobu said. Her eyes glued onto your tits as she licked her bottom lip and bites it softly, already eager to taste them. You couldn't deny it. You wanted Shinobu, too. You wanted her now, but the thought of anyone catching you two in the act made you nervous, yet excited in your own sick way.

Speaking of anyone, your waiter excuses himself, letting him know he's coming in and pushes the mesh away to enter to refill your wine glasses. "Is there anything else you need?" He asked, and then, Shinobu spoke. "There is. I'd like for no further interruptions until I call for a waiter myself," She said. Given her title as a hashira, she has that authority, even in public places like this.

The waiter nods and takes his leave to tell anyone else not to come into your private dining room. There was a moment of silence as you and Shinobu stared at each other across from the table. It's almost as if you both were waiting for one to crack, but luckily, it wasn't you. When Shinobu wants you, her lust will put all pride aside just to have you.

Shinobu stood up and walked over to your side of the table. She sat next to you and gestured for you to come sit on her lap, which you do. Your hands place on her arms as you staddle her lap, and without hesitation, her hands made their way to your tits. "I know I watched you get ready, but no bra? Did you really want to get me excited like this and play with your pretty nipples?" Shinobu grins as her thumbs brush across your nipples.

"Haah-" Your mouth opened to let out a soft moan, but you quickly suppress it by biting your bottom lip. "Come on now. Answer my question, pretty girl." Shinobu's thumbs continued to brush over your nipples. Your nipples harden and make an outline on your dress, only exciting Shinobu more. "I-it wasn't intended at first. I just- hmhm~" you moan as you felt her fingers rub on your sensitive nipples.

*just what?" Shinobu whispered against your skin. Her lips kiss your boob before sinking her teeth in gently, looking up at you with narrowed eyes filled with such lust as she watches every reaction you make from her touch. You back arches, gasping from her bite, and you finally speak. "I-i was hoping I'd excite you enough to take this at home~" you whimper softly, feeling the air hit your bare tits once Shinobu pushed the fabric of your dress open more to expose them to her face.

"And excite me you did~" Shinobu chuckled, sliding her hand between your thighs to rub at your clit and taking your nipple between your lips. "But I can't wait till we get home. I need you now y/n" Shinobu's breaths become heavier, sucking and licking your nipple through her words and then, switching over to the other nipple.

"Shinobu~ oh gosh~" your head tilts back, turning a bit to look at the mash door, hoping no one comes in but Shinobu's arm wrap around your waist and pushes you down to the floor with her on top. "Don't worry. No one is coming in. Just focus on me making you feel good~" Her delicate hand cupped your cheek, shifting your gaze away from the door to her.

"Don't stop Shinobu~" you begged. Your hands lift up your dress and you slide your panties down, just past your inner thighs before Shinobu takes them off herself. You brought the back of your habd to your mouth, moaning as you feel hee slender fingers rub your clit and wet folds. "So wet already. I can't wait to rub my pussy on this wet one~" Shinobu sinked two fingers in your wet pussy as her lips went back to your tit, almost trying to take it whole in her mouth.

Your eyes shut as you feel Shinobu's fingers thrust inside you. Her finger curling with each thrust inside to tease your spot. "I know you like my stap better, but you're okay with being stuffed like this, right? Or do you need more fingers for your needy pussy to clench down on" Shinobu slipped her fingers out for a moment to slap your clit, then slowly thrust three of her fingers inside you.

Your back arches and your thighs shut around her hand. Once her fingers made it in with ease, she thrust them in slow before picking up the pace and fucking her fingers in you. Your whimpers grew Louder. You felt like the room got hotter with the rush of pleasure throughout your body, you wanted to tell Shinobu you were about to cum but she pressed her lips on yours.

"Shhh, shh baby. That's it. Just cum for me, mhm~" she said through her kisses, swallowing your cute moans to keep your voice down. Shinobu watches a tear roll down from your shut eyes and feels your hips buck in her hand as you cum on her fingers. You long whimper and shakey breaths mixed in with her soft moans as she felt your wet, gummy walls thob with her fingers inside.

Shinobu pulled her lips away, making you both gasp. Shinobu took her kimono off and then pulled her panties down to come on top of you, swing her leg aross, lining her pussy up with yours. "Hurry Shinobu~ I wanna cum again~" you say through a soft whimper as your hands grab onto her hips. "I love when you beg~" Shinobu said, holding down her moan once her clit presses down on yours.

"So-" she thrust her hips, "fucking-" another thrust, "much- ooh gosh, y/n~" Shinobu moans close to your lips as her hips thrust, grinding her pussy down on yours. "Just like that~" you whispered as your hand move from her hips to one grabbing Shinobu's ass and the other grabbing her thigh as if your were applying more pressure to the pleasure of your clit with her's.

"Yeah, like that?" Shinobu kept thrusting, bringing her lips down your your jiggling tits and places wet kisses on them, leaving her lipstick marks on your skin. "You're so wet, baby~ haa~ you're driving me crazy. I'm getting so close~" Shinobu's brows knit together as her mouth hangs open with held back moans but loud enough for you to hear.

The blush on her cheeks almost turned you on more as you and Shinobu both desperately grind your clits together, feeling your clits throb and then pulling each other into a sloppy heated kiss.

You moan into each other, tasting each others tounges as you swirl it around each other. You start to feel your lipstick being Smired off with Shinobu's during the intense and rough kiss, but you could care less in this moment. In fact, her lipstick already looked so pretty on your tits so having it messed up on your mouth, along with hers, made it even better for you both.

"M'cumming- Oh my God, I'm cumming y/n- o-oh fuck~!" Shinobu whimperd, quickly hugging your body close to hers tightly as she let out a loud moan on your shoulder. Your leg wrapped around Shinobu's waist as you held onto her too, moaning on her shoulder as you cum, feeling each others wetness. Shinobu catches her breath before letting you go and sits up, looking down at you catching your breath as well.

"Wanna do it again?" She smirked. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

"Let's pay the check and leave~"

#demon slayer smut #kny smut #shinobu kocho #kny shinobu #shinobu x reader #shinobu smut #shinobu x y/n

[minhosimthings]

Dances Avec Les Etoiles ft. Heeseung - The Vows

Synopsis: God how boring is love? For Lee Heeseung, it was perhaps the most boring thing in this rotten world. But for his parents, it meant buisness. And buisness meant getting Heeseung married off to a princess from another kingdom. And when the princess shares a peculiar interest, Heeseung starts to believe in Cupid again.

Pairings: Prince!Heeseung × Princess!fem!reader

Warnings: literal fluff nothing else, vows and a wedding my baes!!!

A/N: I HAD to write a wedding scene like COME ON its a law in Mona town that you cannot not write a wedding scene. Also I wrote really sappy vows so sorry not really that @candewlsy babe your daddy papi is a lovesick daddy papi now hehe

Part 1 || Part 2 || The Wedding

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

Weddings were always thought to be pompous events, jewels, dresses, champagne, whose son married whose daughter, gold, silver, and most importantly first dances.

And Heeseung couldn't have been more impatient for his first dance than ever.

Although it wasn't his first dance with you, having danced with you with every passing second of time since your engagement was officially announced.

He had sneaked you out often to the western wing, much to the suffering of Sunoo who had to hear Heeseung's rants about how pretty you danced with him.

And now it was suddenly the wedding, how the time had passed so quickly, and how, now, you were all dolled up in your flowy wedding dress, with adornments on you, enough to last a time. But the thing that shone especially bright was the rose gold ring on your finger, which Heeseung had customised for you. A ballerina figure sat on top of the ring, a bit extra, but it was Heeseung, and you loved how he had your initials engraved on the ring.

And then there you were again, walking with slow, flickering footsteps down a carpeted aisle to Heeseung.

Your Heeseung.

Your dancing prince.

You had often heard of the notion that brides shouldn't ever cry on weddings, it was apparently bad luck.

But how could you have held yourself back? When your ears listened to the beautiful notes of Heeseung's voice reading his own, written vows, a first for Tarnow's royal weddings apparently. But how could he have not? His princess deserved more than poetry. Especially when vows weren't usually allowed for princesses so usually the groom had to take incharge of the "how much I love you" banter.

"Beautiful." Heeseung whispered to you as you stepped onto the pedestal, facing his handsome face, "You look beautiful."

"As do you, my prince."

The priest clearing his throat snapped Heeseung out of his daze, while he was staring at your exposed neck and collarbones, god he hoped he didn't have anything particularly visible.

"Right." Heeseung took a deep breath, and took his paper from a very sweaty Jay, who was looking at you with a "Thank you for falling in love with him" smile (as if he hadn't thanked you enough already).

"I-Im kind of bad at writing vows and everything. Not like I've written them before! Because I-Ive never been married before I mean-" Heeseung panicked, but immediately calmed down at seeing the smile on your face. You placed your hand on top of his, earning an "aww" from the guests and a smile from Heeseung, who took another deep breath and started.

"Princess Y/N of the Witchelm Kingdom." Of course the declarations had to be first, "Have you ever heard of the sentence, Dances avec les etoiles?"

His voice bought a blush to your face.

"It means to want to dance with stars. When I was forced to learn french at eight, I found out about this pretty poetic line, and I related to it greatly. A little too greatly perhaps, and I found myself dancing in the darkest corners of this palace every night. It gave me peace, a lot of peace, to see myself in a great big mirror and do what I could never do to the strangers in the outside world."

You swore you could see stars dancing around Heeseung.

"But then, you came into this thing I call my life, and for-for perhaps the first time, I felt complete. Yes, we may have bickered, too many times for your liking-" that incited a giggle out of you, "But even in that, even in your anger, I truly found beauty in its equality. And when you danced for the first time at the ball? Oh god I swear I could have ravaged the earth for you right there and then, my princess."

You could have done the same for him at that moment.

"I had always thought of love as an insignificant thing, who would crave for a mere emotion like that? But now I realise, that it the only emotion I am ever so starved of, and it is the only emotion I feel, every single time your light shines on mine.

God do you know how much you dance like a swan in the corners of my heart I thought were unreachable? Because you do, you truly do. If there were a hundred universes in this world, I swear to find you in each one, and have one last dance with you, one last sinful symphony if it's the final thing I do, if your face is the final thing I see, then darling consider me blessed in my choices and cursed in my rendezvous.

I-I would be the happiest man on earth, if I was to dance with you every second, if my hand were you rest on your waist and twirl you around every day, I would truly be happy, Y/N.

I would be dancing with you among the stars, so much that the planets themselves get jealous, that their astral ballet cannot compete with ours."

You truly never knew the dance of two souls could have been more prettier than Spanish flamenco. But now, as your lips moved in synchronisation with Heeseung's, the sweet venom injecting into your lovesick blood, his hand ghosting your waist, as if he was afraid to even break you, you truly knew what love was.

It was to match each other's feet in the mirror of a now renovated western wing, dedicated to dancing and only dancing.

It was to make fun of Heeseung's brothers for their terrible dancing skills (barring Jay).

It was to simply exist with Heeseung.

It was to dance among the stars with him, as the saying went,

Dances Avec Les Etoiles.

Taglist: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yungnorth

#heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enha fluff #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen hard hours #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #lee heeseung hard hours #heeseung × reader

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Six

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Six: Christmas Eve

Summary: Saiki's bothers (friends) end up at his house for Christmas Eve.

            Saiki walked towards his house. His parents were excited as usual for holidays, so the entire house was decked in lights and wreaths for Christmas, even if it was a rather western holiday. As soon as he placed a hand upon the doorhandle, he had a bad feeling. Sure enough, his mother and Nendou were inside the doorway when he opened the door.

            “Oh, welcome back, Kuu!” greeted Mrs. Saiki.

            “Hey, you’re late, pal!” said Nendou, giving him a thumbs-up.

            “Hey, Saiki!” (Y/N) walked in from the living room and waved.

            Saiki sighed and walked in. “How did they end up here?” he asked his mother.

            “I ran into Nendou at the grocery store and asked him to join us! And (L/N)’s parents are going on a trip, and since they were so sweet last time we met, I offered for them to join us for Christmas,” explained Mrs. Saiki. She left to go greet her husband, who had just arrived home.

            “I’m gonna grab a cookie!” said Nendou, heading to the kitchen.

            “A trip?” And they didn’t invite their kid?

            “They had business,” said (Y/N). They smiled, but Saiki noticed it wasn’t as big as their usual one. “They’re sort of workaholics,” they joked. “They’ll be back tomorrow.”

            “So you’re staying here.”

            “Yeah!” A real smile spread across (Y/N)’s face. “I’m excited! I’ll try not to bother you, though.”

            Considerate of my feelings. “It’s fine.” He ignored how often he observed (Y/N)’s good qualities these days.

            (Y/N) looked at him in surprise. They were about to respond, but Mr. Saiki, Mrs. Saiki, and Nendou returned.

            “Merry Christmas! Santa’s here!” called Mr. Saiki, dressed up like St. Nick. He blanked when he saw (Y/N) and Nendou. “I wish you had told me that we were going to have guests. I look like a fool!” he whispered to his wife.

            “That’s because you are one.”

            (Y/N) covered their mouth to avoid laughing.

            “So who’re they?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            “They’re Kuu’s friends, Nendou and (L/N). Remember? The (L/N)’s were dropping their daughter of today for dinner,” said Mrs. Saiki.

            “Kusuo’s friends?!” exclaimed Mr. Saiki. He began crying in happiness.

            Saiki sighed in exasperation while (Y/N) laughed.

            “Hello, Nendou, (L/N)!” said Mr. Saiki. “I’m Kuniharu, Saiki’s father! Nice to meet you!”

            “Oh, you’re my pal’s dad? Nice to meet you,” said Nendou, but because he was so tall compared to Mr. Saiki, he ended up looking intimidating.

            He seems like a total thug, thought Mr. Saiki.

            “Nice to meet you!” chirped (Y/N). Flowers twirled around them.

            They seem too nice to hang out with Kusuo, thought Mr. Saiki.

            Hey—

            “These are well-made,” said Nendou, holding Mr. Saiki’s discarded Santa hat and beard. “I really thought it was Santa.”

            “What? R-Really?” Mr. Saiki blushed.

            So you’re happy now?

            And so, Mr. Saiki accepted Nendou as a not-thug friend and (Y/N) as the too-nice-for-Saiki friend (Saiki was not pleased with the second one). Together, they all sat down for dinner.

            “Merry Christmas!”

            “Merry Christmas!”

            They all clinked glasses.

            “(Y/N), how did someone so nice because friends with my closed-off Kusuo?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            Is this what TV shows mean about awkward family dinners with guests?

            “Saiki’s actually pretty accepting! He’s just quiet, but that’s completely fine,” said (Y/N). They spoke casually, but their heart thumped as they complimented Saiki. They almost glanced at him as if hoping for a reaction. For some reason or other. Nothing they knew.

            Mr. and Mrs. Saiki awed.

            How do they say those affectionate things so easily? Saiki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit embarrassed and flustered, but the world would start loving him before he showed it.

            “And Nendou! You’re quite sensible! I was happy to hear you thought I was the real Santa,” said Mr. Saiki. “When Kusuo was less than a year old, he already looked at me as if I had come from his diaper.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “The Saiki Death Stare.”

            Saiki gave them that exact look. They shivered.

            “You really are a good, well-mannered kid, Nendou,” continued Mr. Saiki, still doting on the tall boy.

            “Oh? I’m not really a good kid,” said Nendou.

            “Sure, you are,” assured (Y/N).

            “What?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            “Santa never came to my place,” said Nendou.

            “Oh, well, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad kid. Santa didn’t come to my place, either,” said (Y/N).

            “What?! Why your fathers deprive you of Santa?!” cried Mr. Saiki.

            “I don’t have a dad. He died before I was born,” explained Nendou.

            “My parents said it didn’t matter where presents came from,” said (Y/N).

            How on earth did you end up so optimistic with such realists for parents? Saiki was almost disappointed to know their home-life wasn’t as bright as they themself were.

            “What?!” cried Mrs. Saiki.

            “I-I didn’t know that…” said Mr. Saiki.

            “I’m sorry…” said Mrs. Saiki.

            (Y/N) shrugged and smiled. “It’s fine.”

            Clearly not. I wish I could read your mind. Then I’d know how to help. Saiki saw (Y/N) as a real friend (translation: he was willing to admit (Y/N) was his friend, but he had others). He was more willing than usual to get involved in their problems.

            “Hm? Why? That doesn’t bother me. I’ve got my mom, so…” Nendou gave a big smile and a thumbs-up. “Santa doesn’t come, but that doesn’t make me feel sad or anything!”

            “I see…” murmured Mr. Saiki uncomfortably. “Ah, excuse us for a bit.”

            “You three go on eating,” said Mrs. Saiki.

            The husband and wife left the room.

            “Your parents are pretty cool, and your dad is fun. I mean, he came home in a Santa costume,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “This is just the beginning. It only gets more ‘fun’ from here,” said Saiki, the sarcasm clear without any tone.

            “Sorry for stepping out!” chirped Mrs. Saiki, returning with a bright smile.

            “Where’d Mr. Saiki go?” asked (Y/N).

            “Ah, he went out. He said something like having to go lick his clients’ shoes,” said Mrs. Saiki. She gestured to the food. “Let’s go ahead and enjoy.”

            Suddenly, Mr. Saiki, dressed completely like Santa, began trying to open the backdoor.

            “Ahhh! What’s going on?” questioned Nendou. “Some guy that looks like Santa is trying to open the door!”

            Mrs. Saiki opened the door and let “Santa” in.

            “Ahem.” Mr. Saiki cleared his throat. “Hello, Nendou, (L/N). I’m Santa. Nice to meet you.”

            “See? My father really is one-of-a-kind, isn’t he?” remarked Saiki, sending the message just to (Y/N)’s mind.

            (Y/N) smiled and whispered back. “I think it’s nice.”

            “The real Santa is here!” gasped Nendou. “Is it really you, Santa?! Amazing!”

            “Wow! Incredible!” (Y/N) played along (mostly for Nendou’s sake).

            “Please shake my hand, Mr. Santa!” said Nendou.

            “Ho ho ho! Sure!” Mr. Saiki shook Nendou’s hand.

            Mrs. Saiki and (Y/N) laughed.

            “Oh! That’s right!” exclaimed Nendou. “Santa travels with reindeer, right? I want to see reindeer even more than Santa!”

            “Okay! They’re outside. Why don’t you go look?” said Mr. Saiki.

            (Y/N) tilted their head. “Can your dad keep this up?

            “Probably not.” Not without my help. Both of my parents keep begging for my help in their minds. He teleported a reindeer to his backyard effortlessly.

            “Whoa! A reindeer! Amazing!” cried Nendou.

            “Wait, really?! Cool!” (Y/N) hurried to the window. “Whoa!”

            “Here, you two. These are presents for you,” said Mr. Saiki after they returned indoors. He handed them each a gift.

            “I-Is it really okay?” asked Nendou.

            “R-Really? For me?” Strangely, it meant even more to (Y/N) to receive the gift knowing it wasn’t Santa. They glanced over at Saiki, knowing it was probably his.

            My parents are giving away my gifts, and yet… Saiki gave them a thumbs-up. I don’t mind.

            (Y/N) grinned, and their heart warmed happily. “Thank you.”

            “All right! I get two presents this year!” cheered Nendou.

            “What? Two?” asked Mr. Saiki. “I thought you’ve never gotten a present.”

            “Yeah, nothing from Santa,” said Nendou. “But I get one from my mom. Every year, while I’m asleep at night, she puts a present next to the pillow. She could just give it to me directly. I wonder why she does it…”

            Everybody deadpanned.

            “He has a nice mom.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “Definitely.” A lightbulb went off in their head. “Oh, did you also think I never got a present? If you did, you can have your gift back, after all, it might be something you wanted, and I—.”

            “Keep it.” Saiki looked at her. His eyes displayed his honesty.

            “Are you sure?”

            Saiki nodded.

            “Thank you.” They reached behind her their and picked up a small, wrapped gift. “Here! It’s your present!”

            He took it from them.

            “Go on, open it,” they encouraged.

            With his x-ray vision, he already saw what was inside, but Saiki was excited and opened it. It was a package of coffee jelly and a keychain shaped like coffee jelly. “Thank you.”

            “Of course! Anything for you!” (Y/N) grinned with closed-eyes at him.

            A tiny smile appeared on his face. Behind them, the sounds of holiday cheer echoed from his parents and Nendou. The tree was glowing, the food wafted delicious smells into the air, and presents were piled under the tree.

            “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

             “Merry Christmas, Saiki.”

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#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusou no psi nan #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki #saiki kusuo #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #tdlosk

[divine-donna]

pink ensembles

pairing: miguel o’hara x gender neutral! reader

word count: 994 words

ao3 link: 💗💗💗

summary: the spider society is holding a very special barbie disco party!! miguel doesn’t have an appropriate outfit. thankfully, you have the perfect solution for your partner. and you’re awesome at dressing people!

for vibes: “dance the night” by dua lipa

notes: there are no detailed descriptions about the ensemble reader is wearing. it’s just something that’s all pink! anyways who’s excited for the barbie movie? i’m seeing it over oppenheimer.

“Wait, you’re not coming?”

“Well I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t dress up.”

“That’s as bad as saying you’re not coming! If you’re not going to dress up, why come at all!”

“(Y/N), that’s literally not what I meant.” The man was trying to enjoy his lunch in peace. “If I don’t come, it looks pretty bad. Especially as the person who founded the Spider Society.”

“And I just believe you should look the part.”

Miguel sets his arepa down. “I don’t think you get it. I’m not dressing up because my wardrobe...” He sighs. “You’ve literally been in my wardrobe. You steal my clothes all the time.”

It finally hit you. “Oh. I see. It’s because you lack color in your wardrobe. That’s not a problem!”

“What...What do you mean? I literally don’t have the clothes for it.”

“And I do! I think I have the perfect outfit too. Come on! We’re going back to my place!”

Miguel rushed to finish his lunch and even took the last remaining arepa with him. He’d rather die than let a good arepa go to waste (also because wasting food was something he was taught not to do). The two of you made it back to your place where you revealed your closet. It was definitely a closet from a Barbie dreamhouse playset. Your closet was even color coded and was very satisfying to look at. There were even shades of colors he didn’t think existed. You were going through your pink section, putting different shades of pink against his arm and even looking at the veins of his hand. “Perfect! The ensemble I have in mind is the right pink!” You were giddy about this and pulled out the set.

He wasn’t phased by the outfit but rather that you seemed to have it in his size. “How long have you had this?” He asks.

“For a while. I bought it in hopes of us doing matching outfits one day.”

“How did you get my size?”

“Lyla helped.”

He’s not the slightest bit annoyed. Instead, a small smile crosses his face and he walks over to you, giving you a gentle kiss on your lips. You kiss back and take in his presence. It was always nice to just be with him. “I’ll put this on.”

When Miguel comes out, you almost fell over. Because your partner was just...hot. So, so, so, so hot. The sleeveless top allowed you to see every single fiber of muscle as he moved his arms. His pecs were popping out from the neckline. The flared pants hugged his waist nicely, rising quite high, and framing his butt better than his Spider-suit. The white cowboy hat really topped everything off. But despite the beauty that was your partner in this outfit, you still felt he was missing something. Maybe something around his neck? That would be quite hot. “I look like a vaquero. Except without the equipment.” He says.

“I mean, it is Western inspired. And it was vaqueros that were the base for the Western cowboy.”

“We definitely did it better.” He takes a spin, watching the way the bottom of his pants flared out.

“You have white boots?”

“They’re the most colorful thing in my closet.”

“Great! They’ll go with the outfit. Now, you’re missing something.”

“Am I? I think it looks great.”

“You just need one more bit of pizzazz!” You rub your chin for a bit. “Lyla!”

“Here!” The AI appears besides Miguel’s shoulder. “I knew he would look good.”

“Lyla, do you think you can find the star patterned pink bandana?”

“Oh.” She winces. “It’s not here on this Earth. But it is available in these Earths and at these storefronts, from what I can gather.” Lyla expands the map of the multiverse.

“Well, we can start there. I’ll be back soon Miguel.”

Miguel was...very surprised to see you come back with a ton of scratches and bruises. But you were beaming brightly and judging by the bag in your hand, you had succeeded in your mission. He should’ve figured that you were willing to fight tooth and nail for the last fashion accessory for your partner. After all, what was better than getting to dress him up? “Geez! What happened (Y/N)!” Lyla cleans her glasses to make sure it wasn’t dirt blocking her vision.

“I fought people for it. Turns out everywhere in the multiverse is looking for this? It’s the biggest multiversal fashion trend.” You pull the box out and toss the bag, before removing the top of the box. “It’s like fresh!” You approach your partner with the bandana and he lets you tie it around his neck. When you step back, you feel your eyes water. “It’s perfect!”

“Awww. Should let (Y/N) dress you up more. They know what they’re doing.” Lyla looks at her watch. “Got to go. I’ll catch you two at the party!” The AI disappears.

“Okay now I have to get ready!”

“Take your time cariño.” His voice just purred softly. And you needed to prevent yourself from just melting at the way he spoke to you.

When you came out, your scratches and bruises were gone (mostly). And you had dressed up in your cutest pink ensemble. You looked like a Barbie doll! And honestly, Miguel was feeling like he was just a Ken. He looked nowhere near as good. “I like what you did beneath your eyes.” You had put small stones to complete your makeup look.

“Thank you! I’m happy you like it.”

“I always like what you do.”

“You’re going to make me collapse from how cheesy you are.”

“I’ll just catch you.” Miguel pulls you close to him and presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. He’s careful not to ruin the makeup.

“Shall we get going?”

“I don’t know. How about we just stay here for a little longer? No one arrives to a party on time anyways.”

#spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #fluff #spider-man 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

[yokohamapound]

Since tis Spooky Season, how about some wedding headcanons for our goth boys Bram and Akutagawa? :3

It might no longer be spooky season but goth bois are timeless. <3

Characters: Bram Stoker, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Contents: gn!reader, nsfw mention

Bram Stoker

Bram is certainly the marrying type. Once he’s found someone he feels he can spend the long years of eternity with, he’ll want to lock you down quickly and make it official. Dating is a foreign concept to him, but he will spend some time courting you. He’s very likely the one who proposed marriage, and like, you have eyes, so of course you were going to accept. Who doesn’t want to marry a handsome vampire lord?

It’s not enough to call Bram ‘old-fashioned’. The man is at least several hundred years old, (depending on whether his age is based on the actual Bram Stoker or Vlad Tepes, basis of the legend for Dracula). He’s between approx 170-600 years old. He’s seen trends become traditions and vanish entirely. The wedding would probably be some flavour of traditional, whether that’s a Western white wedding, or a wedding steeped in his spouse’s culture. If you really wanted to, you could have a historical-themed wedding to make Bram feel at home—just expect him to be finicky on the minor details.

“This is the incorrect type of date for this pastry.”

It might take some doing to find a priest willing to marry you to a vampire, or you can forge the documents and have a civil ceremony. It depends on whether or not Bram can actually set foot in a church. He’s probably relieved to discover civil ceremonies are a thing. 

Bram looks beautiful in a suit. Just imagine it. A suit tailored to his ridiculous, 6’5” height, possibly a tailcoat, with a cravat, his long hair tied back. 

You’ll have to bring him up to speed and explain that, apart from certain cultural traditions, dowries aren’t that common anymore, and that he doesn’t have to offer your father 50 goats for your hand in marriage. 

Bram’s a pretty romantic guy, but he always does it with style. He pulls out your chair, his hand is going to rest on the small of your back, and he takes the lead in the first dance waltz, no matter your gender.

The speeches will be short—he’s had to put up with too many of Fukuchi’s soliloquies to want to hear any more monologuing. The wedding dinner—feast, he insists on calling it—is sumptuous, although Bram doesn’t partake. (You’re his wedding feast and he’d rather enjoy that in private.)

Godspeed on your wedding night. Bram’s spent years without a lower half of his body and now he has it back, and a spouse to enjoy. He is…pent up, shall we say~

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Poor Akutagawa is still reeling over the fact that he’s getting married. I would say that either you proposed, or Dazai planted the idea in Akutagawa’s head that it was time for him to put a ring on it. If Akutagawa proposed, your ring is some beautiful antique with a large stone and a creepy story attached to it. Don’t forget that Akutagawa makes bank in the Port Mafia. 

Please, please, please plan a goth wedding.

Please remember that this is the same young man who said this when asked what he would give as a wedding present: “I'd gift them the enemy's freshly severed head decorated with bloody barren flowers.” Suffice it to say, Akutagawa should not be left in charge of either your gift registry or the flower arrangements. You will end up with a load of obscure antiques, knives, and bunches of rotting flowers “to show the briefness of our lifespans.” 

Maybe compromise with dried flower garlands or even black roses if you want to go full 2007 My Chemical Romance-core. (Look me in the eye and tell me Akutagawa wouldn’t look up if you played him a G-note on the piano.)

He hates being the centre of attention in the actual wedding, so he’s more than happy to deflect it all toward you instead. The moments he seems happiest are when he gets to see Gin wearing a bridesmaid dress, when Dazai stands up to make a speech (during which Akutagawa sits up like he’s in a school assembly while the headmaster is speaking), and during the vows, when he’s focusing on you and only you. 

He looks wonderful in his suit - let him have full tails and black tie and he'll be content.

Your wedding photographs look like one of those austere Victorian family portraits, save for Tachihara throwing up the bunny ears behind Gin’s head. 

Akutagawa has a secret sweet tooth he won’t admit to, which is why he tries to pretend that he hasn’t had three slices of chocolate cake. 

Either get Dazai drunk or put him in a corner with a plate of crab cakes to keep him occupied, because you really don’t need him making sly comments when it’s time for you and Akutagawa to climb into the car and head off for your honeymoon. His wedding gift for Akutagawa is an inhaler and a note saying, “You’ll need this! xoxo Dazai.”

#yokohamapound #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #bram stoker bsd #bram x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa x reader

[honestsycrets]

HELLO, HELLO! Okay, so this drabble prompt/idea is kinda sorta in the vein of Querido (I only think about Old Western Miguel now I cannot help it pls forgive me head empty only man and hörse), so pls skip if you're not inspired or in the mood for more in this genre!

Still, I offer you this: Sheriff Miguel.

He's someone all the women have their eyes on, and he'd have his eyes on them, too, if he were younger. But he has a baby girl to worry about, a runaway wife to forget, and a town to keep an eye on, especially when a woman from the big city pays the little down a visit.

He meets her when he loses Gabriella in the market's crowd, only to find her tugging on a fine dress belonging to a fine woman.

(P.S. reading your writing has inspired me to get back into writing my own reader insert stuff 💖 really love your work, keep it up!!)

bumblebee | sheriff!miguel x dressmaker!reader

❛ pairing | sheriff-singleparent!miguel o'hara x dressmaker!reader

❛ type | extended drabble, not-explicit, wc: 2600ish

❛ summary | miguel loses his daughter-- and finds a part of himself he thought was long past dead.

❛ tags | self-edited, querido au, f!reader, sheriff!miguel, dressmaker!reader, implied parental abandonment, some mention of thievery, widowed!reader, mostly fluff, some mention of death, spanish not translated.

❛ sy's notes | i intended this to be a drabble but... it's quite a bit longer. anon, i hope you end up writing to your heart's content.

Miguel ain’t the kinda man women really need. He’s the kinda man they think they want. A big man with a big name, sure, but he’s saddled with what their fathers colloquially call baggage. A little three-year-old girl with ambitions of rolling on out of this little town by rolling on out of his fingertips. 

“Oye, Gwen,” he catches the arm of his deputy. She’s out on the town just as he was, making rounds about the grassy plain where the market was booming. With too few stalls, the marketgoers visit full wooden wagons chock-full of goods. This year, there were new boxes of small circular chocolates. Once every year, his quiet little town became a bustling fuck fest with foreigners running a muck of it all. As sheriff, he just had to deal with it. 

“What’s it, sheriff?” she asks. “Something wrong?” 

“You seen my littlin anywhere? Swore she was right here.”

This is his penance for fooling around with the hearts of pretty women: chasing him his own little girl and minding the crowd. His long, slicked-back hair was all kinds of out of place, whirling over his wrinkled forehead. He shoves a strand of grey hair back in place out of his dark eyes and scans his little town. She could’ve slipped into any creaky old building that wasn't locked up or hitched a ride on a wagon she didn’t belong on. Or, alternatively…

“Miguel! Rio saw her by the sweets.” Former Sherriff Morales tells him, standing by his son’s stall of sweet roasted corn. Ordinarily, he’d give it a begrudging visit. Miguel whirls around on his muddy leather boots, throwing him a nod of thanks with Gwen short on his tail. 

“Sounds promisin’,” she says. “Could be searchin’ for Lyla or Peter.” 

“Thank you for the help, Sheriff,” he grumbled, shoving his way past a sea of cream, brown, and black dresses. Gwen could spider her way through the groups of people with her comparatively slender frame. As a consequence of Miguel’s hulking frame, he’s markedly slower in his search.

“Ain’t here either,” Gwen hops back to his side. “You sure she wandered off?” 

"She had to."

The alternative was… well, he didn't want to think about it. Out of his periphery, he caught the glimmer of polished metal. He spots his daughter’s peachy dress, bundled up with a fat white bow complete with a bell. He put the thing on thinking that, ideally, his little girl would jingle up some hell of noise if she got lost. Some good that bell did. 

“You lost mi amor?” 

Lost. The word stands out to him first, all dressed up in a sugar cube of a voice. His Gabriella tugs on a stranger’s long gown, eyes pricked with tears streaming down her cheeks. Of all the people-- she couldn’t just pick on someone she knew? Head to Rio’s hostel, find Deputy Gwen stalking around, or even Hobie’s bum ass strumming a tune on the old stage. No, she’s with a strange woman. 

“Now don’t you cry,” you dab away the stray tears with an embroidered handkerchief. “I’ll find you home.” 

You’re not from here because you’re all done up like a buttercup in spring when the women here only broke out color for church. Corset sucking in the finest assets, a buttercream bustle underneath that buttercup yellow skirt. Hair up in a waterfall of curls and covered by a small slouched hat of flowers. You held a parasol for the evening sun, keeping it off your tanned skin. 

“There,” Miguel set his hands on his hips, catching his head in a shake. Gwen leans over on the ball of her feet and stares straight down the barrel of a path. 

“My my,” she says. “Ain’t she a looker. Why are you-- You look good, Miguel.” 

She’s caught on his frantic fiddling. The way Miguel straightens his tie into his waistcoat and checks the chain that drapes along his side. He checks the time on his cracked pocketwatch and spins it between his fingers. Gwen leans up to flick a stray strand of hair away from his face.

“Think so?” 

“Entirely presentable.” 

"¿De veras?" Miguel clears his throat, “Best be on my way to get her.” Miguel loops his fingers on his fine leather belt and waltzes right on up to your stall of hand-sewn dresses. 

For once in his life, he feels underdressed. A man sets some coins in your hand, plucking up a small communion dress for his daughter. With ruffles, lace, and the occasional ribbon. He’s not sure how much luck you’d have selling more than scraps of ribbon in this little town. You set the coins aside, turning your attention back to his daughter who-- somehow, got a brand new ribbon bundled in her ponytail between his fiddling and the walk over.

“Buenas tardes,” he clears his throat, whipping out his metal badge. “I’m Sherriff O’Hara.” 

“Encantada, Sheriff O’Hara. You’re looking as pretty as a penny this fine afternoon. Can’t be wanting any of my dresses. My name is… well, how can I help you?” 

“Papa,” Gabriella coos as if this whole mess wasn’t on her tiny little shoulders. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, not yet.

“Yes, mami, Sheriff O’Hara. Do you know old Sheriff O’Hara?” Miguel suppresses his delight as you lift her up onto your hip. Most days, he didn’t notice his own melancholy. Coming home to his little girl soothed all that like a good helping of booze after a bad wound. “She likes you.” 

You sure talk pretty. He clears his throat, pulling on the sloppy tie that feels a whole lot hotter all of a sudden. He shouldn't be acting like this. Has it really been that long since he’s been with a girl? He couldn't go to the saloon and pick any one of those lovesick girls. The town wouldn’t continually elect a loose man. Miguel’s eyes catch the flickering gold of a bumblebee locket on your chest. He traces the curve of its wings, wrapping around a crusted gem.

“‘Course she does, she’s my girl. I lost Gabi up in the crowd flow.” 

“You lost her? You can’t tell me you’re the kinda man that does it all. Where is your wife?”

Where is your wife? The question tormented him. He could do it all. Managing the sloppy, slow thieves and putting down the occasional drunken brawl. At the end of the night, he came home to his empty home and saw his little girl. Miguel’s gaze danced along the puffy clouds in the sky. The fluffy clouds drift the same as usual, the same old slow draw, unknowledgeable about the change in his life. He suppresses the distant melancholy in his voice in surfacing old memories. 

“Ain’t got a wife. She ran off on me with some wolf. Usually, I got a sitter for my girl but, she came down with a fever.”

“A wolf?” you repeat after him, “Why, you mean a gentleman?” 

A gentleman, he scoffs under his breath.

“If you wanna call him that. He was an outlaw.” 

“I’m mighty sorry, Sheriff.”  You looked at the little girl in your arms. Gabriella’s small fingers fiddle with the glimmering gold pendant on your chest. He throws her a look-- behave. She’s not paying attention one bit. You set your parasol down, freeing the necklace and setting it in her tiny fist. “I’m a whole widow myself. Lost my man in the war and never got the chance to have one’a my own.” 

“You don’t say. You on the market?”

“On the market like cattle?” you teased. If he’s not mistaken, that shy smile of yours was all his. Maybe you like him. It's a signal that he could keep going. 

“Coño, no. You’re too fine for that,” the words are buttery smooth, but upon discovering how the words may come off, he realizes he might be sliding into a trap on the back of those words. Your lips are slightly agape, half in shock. “Pretty. You’re too pretty.” 

“Oh, Sheriff, don’t worry your head,” you adjust Gabriella on your hip, swaying in place like it was natural. “I ain’t one to take offense to pretty words. Suppose you want your niña back?” 

There went his chance.

"That'd be best," he slides his hands underneath Gabriella’s tiny arms to pick her up. The pendant she held clattered free from her grip, nestled in the deep grass. You were about to pick it up when a scrawny thing of a man swiped it from the grass. For an instant, Miguel thought it might be Pavi, who loved to be helpful in the most annoying ways. Catching doors even when it's men, dropping his scarf on mud for girls, a charming and shy kid. It isn’t, though, it’s that weasel he seems to be throwing in the pin every damn week, bolting off in a full-on run. 

“Ay, not my locket!” you gasped, plucking your skirts over your boots. 

“Maldito niño--” Miguel stops you, sliding Gabriella back into your arms. Not that she was complaining, tiny hands slapping together in a rendition of applause as Miguel darted after him, his booming steps beating the ground. “Get back here, kid!”  

“Dios, you sure have a busy papa. I'm sure he’ll back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” You looked between the little girl nestled comfortably in your arms and the parting sea of the crowd. Gwen zooms past, eliciting another round of jovial laughter from Gabriella O’Hara. She does love a good game.

It ain’t that Miguel wants to leave his girl with any old fool that waltzed on into his town. But he knows his community, knows they’d not leave him out to dry, and knows that taking his daughter on a town-wide chase with a skinny little weasel around town is not the move. Especially not if he has a gun, which he did, because of course he did. Now, the man has a jail cell and Miguel has a crook in his neck from where the buffoon fell through the crooked second floor of the post office.

He works the sore muscle the whole way back to your wagon. It’s high time for eating. His stomach was raging after the scent of someone’s pulled pork, the roasted sweetness of corn. If we wanted to be presentable then, he sure wasn’t now. Dust was a second skin on his pants and aged boots. He walks past the platform where Hobie plays a tune with his banda. Most vendors were wrapping right on up for some proper debauchery.

He finds you there, swaying to the beat of the music with Gabriella hanging in your arms. Her tiny hands were around an ear of elote already. Guess she extorted a snack out of you. 

“One gold locket,” Miguel heaves out the words as he digs in his pocket, whirling the golden chain into your small hand. You flip it over once, then twice, examining it for any defects. “Better to keep that tucked away out here. Puts a target on your back right quick.”

“Muchísimas gracias, sheriff. You're a sweetheart,” you reach out, grazing his scratchy cheek with your supple lips. Gabriella is flatly squished between his sweaty chest and yours. She’s fallen asleep flat against your chest. “You don’t know how much this necklace means to me.” 

There are whispers from the women he’s turned down. The viejitas who have been trying to set him up for a full-on year now, those who told him he needed to find a girl as soon as possible to marry. He didn’t want to. Not unless it made sense. 

“Yes, well, you could tell me,” Miguel finally picks his daughter from your arms. She’s out like a light. “If you want.” 

“It was my mami's, once upon a time. She gave it to me on my wedding day," you explain. "It's all I got left of her. I wonder what she'd think of me these days, travelin' town to town like I got secrets."

"You ever think of settlin' down again?" He turns his gaze past Hobie’s banda, to the yellowing sky. The sun is setting out over the horizon, casting warm orange and soft pink into the air. The road is full of wagons. The clip-clop of horses running their way to the next town, some checked in to the hostel.

"A veces," you explain. "If it feels right, I think I will."

"Yeah?" He settles on the bed of your wagon. The dresses were packaged and kept in locked chests, kept away from the bed of the wagon where your blanket was. Most of the foreigners have left, but you. He doesn’t have to guess to know that it was his fault. “You off to Rio’s hostel?” 

“‘fraid I’m out of town,” you smiled at him. “She ain’t got any rooms. Next city over might.” 

“Stay with me,” he says. “The night. Bit too late to get robbed on the road with all them pretty dresses you make. Wouldn’t be right to be sheriff and let a young thing out there without company. Some'a them outlaws take wives that way, y'know.” 

“Oh, Sheriff O’Hara, ain’t no one care about widows on the road,” your hand finds your chest. It’s said with a laugh, as though someone, somewhere, made you feel less than. It wasn’t going to be Miguel.

"Ain't a widow if you're carried off." He reclines, watching the figures of couples dancing to whatever the hell Hobie was playing on his guitar. His eyes track over Hobie’s gloved fingers that prance across the strings, waiting for you to walk back on that stupid comment. You do, snapping out a fan in the waist of your heavy dress to fan yourself.

“You really sure? I don’t mean to be a burden. I’m sure you got better to do than take care of company.” 

“You took care of my girl. Least I could do. Long as you go to church in the morning.” 

“Oh, now he’s askin’ me to church. When’s the wedding, Sherriff?” 

“Miguel. Soon as you want it,” he returns, half a smile pulling at a normally closed-off face. Miguel turns to set his Gabi down on your blanket, throwing you a look for permission. You nod, watching her roll on the wool thing, setting her hands under her cheek until she gets into a position that isn’t as bad as laying on her back. He tucks her hair back over the shell of her ear, exhaling a breath. Somewhere between his ex-wife’s flight from the town and today, she began to look more and more like him. He’s thankful for that. He doesn’t need more memories of her. Only needed to get through each day, and make the next better than the one before.

“She’s tuckered out,” you lean down, just by his face. “All that escapin’ papa work.” 

“Si,” Miguel hums as he massages his sore shoulder. “Tell me about it. I’m getting too old for this.” 

He lifts his head from his daughter’s tiny body, reminded of all the times someone told him to get married. If not the women chasing him around his jail at all hours of the day, then the women at church who, at the moment, were gossiping away. He could hear the prattle already: sheriff likes rich girls. The type to have a golden locket and French silk. The luxury of hopping from town to town like some no-good woman. He’d wager, your husband ain’t had the money to take care of you but for these light luxuries. Traveling town to town wasn't no small feat.

Tch. He’d deal with it tomorrow when he took you to church. Scandalous as that was.

“Fancy a dance?” he offered up his hand. 

You remove your gloves, skin is soft and supple against his, only marred by the pricks of a needle. Your gloved fingers grazed his scarred palm, tracing the long strike that marred his open palm. There’s a thought there, just behind the reach of your playful eyes. He couldn’t quite reach it. 

“I’d love to, Miguel.” 

Something tells him he has time to.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miggy x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman 2099 x reader

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 4

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

We were supposed to get the big Vault 32 reveal, but this chapter just kept getting longer, so I had to cut it off at some point. Sorry!

Part 1 Here. Part 7 Here

Part 2 Here

Part 3 Here

Part 5 Here

Part 6 Here

The workday was over, and you were ready to get home and relax. You headed down the Vault corridor toward your residence, your mind already planning your evening. Maybe you’d watch a movie, you thought as you entered the pin code to unlock the door. The pressurized door mechanism opened with a rush of air, revealing your main living space. You immediately noticed something had changed since you left this morning. Huh, I don’t remember leaving you here. 

A single book rested atop your kitchen table; you didn’t recognize the cover. Puzzled, you reached for the book and flipped it open, trying to jog your memory; as you did, a folded piece of paper fell onto the table. 

The paper read, Courtesy of Overseer MacLean ‘s private library—our little secret. N

You flip the cover over and take a better look. You smile. Of course, it’s a Western.

__________________________

The day of Lucy’s wedding had finally arrived. Most in the Vault couldn’t contain their excitement and curiosity. Everyone was interested to see the results of Triennial Trade. Who was this 32 dweller who would be married to their community? The speculation was endless, but the residents of 33 would have to wait until the ceremony. 

Norm, on the other hand, was wrestling with a different conundrum this morning. He picked up the folded paper atop his dresser and opened it to re-read the contents.

Courtesy of Overseer MacLean ‘s private library—our little secret. N

For a sickeningly sweet gesture, I, (Y/N), owe you, Norman MacLean, one activity of your choosing. 

 You will ask her. Don’t chicken out, he repeats to his reflection in the bedroom mirror above the dresser. Whether to ask (Y/N) to dance at Lucy’s wedding has weighed on him for several days. Does she even want me to ask? Would she be embarrassed if I did this in front of everyone? Then what if I don’t ask? Would she be disappointed? This was all too much. Decision fatigue plagued him. He’d read the room. He'd go for it if she seemed interested and the opportunity presented itself. 

------------------------------

The residents of Vault 33 congregated in the atrium's main square, waiting for Lucy to make her grand entrance. Norm could hear little snippets of separate conversations blending into one. 

“The decorations look beautiful!” “I’m so glad the sunflowers bloomed in time for the ceremony. We were getting worried.” “Should I have done something different with my hair?” “Do you think he’ll get the hint and ask me to dance?” 

He glances around to see if he can spot you among the other vault dwellers; when he does, the room goes silent. Confused, he turns around to see the source of the crowd’s change in demeanor.  

Lucy’s appearance in the upper balcony quieted the crowd. 

Norm watches as she comes down the stairs into the main square to greet the onlookers. He can see everyone smiling at the sight of the young woman in her wedding dress, including his dad. 

“Dad,” she chuckles. Stepping forward so he can admire his little girl. 

“My little sugar bomb,” their dad says as he embraces her.

“Gosh, you look just like your mother,” pride exuding from his voice. 

“Yeah, I wish she was here.” 

“Me too.” 

“Were you scared?” “When you married mom?” Norm hears Lucy ask. 

“Me?” he scoffs. “Terrified. I’d never set foot outside of Vault 31.” 

“When did it go away?” 

“The moment I met your mother.” 

How Norm wished his mother could be here to see this day. While today is supposed to be happy, her absence creates a veil of sadness he can see behind Lucy and his father’s eyes. She was supposed to be here to witness her daughter get married, to see them both grow up. He tries to push the sad thoughts and focus on the moment. If he cried on her wedding day, Lucy would never let him live it down.

“From that moment on, Vault 31 was a distant memory.” Hank continued. 

“Overseer, it’s time,” Betty announces to the pair. They take that as their cue, Hank extending his arm to his daughter and the remainder of the group filing in behind them. Norm takes his spot directly behind his Dad and Lucy. You notice and follow suit a few steps behind. 

As the group approaches the vault corridor connecting Vault 32 and 33 opens with a whoosh, and they begin the walk that will change their lives forever. 

Norm shuffles ahead quickly to end up beside his sister. He can’t pass up the opportunity to engage in some sibling teasing.

“Must be nerve-racking. Your husband could be anybody.” 

“I’m aware,” Lucy retorts. Rolling her eyes at his teasing. 

“And as for his looks?”

“Who knows?” she replies. Norm is impressed; she seems remarkably nonchalant in her response. He decides to take it up a notch. 

“Big butt? No butt? But of course, they are just superficial concerns. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” 

“That’s right!” their dad affirms, looking back at his children, hoping they will give it a rest today, of all days. 

“And in that respect, he could be a cannibal or just like crammed full of tumors.” Norm barely gets the words out before Lucy swats him with her bouquet.   

“Norman.” Hank scolds. 

“Sorry, Dad,” Norm concedes. 

Finally, they’re outside the main entrance of Vault 32. Showtime. 

Hank checks his Pip-Boy and gives Chet the okay to open the gate. Norm was surprised at his composure, given the situation. Everyone in Vault 33 knows he’s down bad for his sister. He and (Y/N) expected at least some reaction from Chet today. 

Chet connects his Pip-Boy to the mag lock. Nothing happens. 

“Honestly…” Chet sighs.” It's a Textbook tumbler jam. It’s going to take some time to fix.” 

There is it, Norm thinks. He’s SO not okay with this. Norm snickers internally and turns around to catch your eye. You return his glance as if to say, we SO called it. 

Lucy steps over to take control of the situation, and after a few hushed exchanges, Chet relents. 

The alarms sound, and the door to Vault 32 rolls back, revealing the residents out from behind its cover. 

Norm watched as his dad stepped in front of the group from 33 to welcome their new guests. 

“Welcome neighbors from Vault 32.” He says with outstretched arms. “ I am Hank MacLean, Overseer of Vault 33.” 

A dark-haired woman steps forward in matching fashion. 

“Lee Moldaver, Overseer of 32. Thank you for your hospitality.” 

“Oh, we were sorry to hear of Overseer Jackson’s passing in your telegrams.”

“When blight hit our wheat, we lost a lot of good people, but this trade will help get us back on our feet.” 

Norm frowned as he heard the words leave the opposing Overseer’s mouth. Why did she have to phrase it like that? Disdain bubbled up into his throat. Moldaver’s words made this whole event seem purely transactional. He means he knows it IS a transaction between vaults, meant to keep those in the vaults surviving, but these were people, and that was his sister. His sister, whom someone loosely compared to a few bushels of wheat. Only he was allowed to comment on his sister that way. When he did it, it was just two siblings mocking one another; when an outsider does it, it’s a step too far. 

Norm was so caught up in analyzing Moldaver’s words that he missed the remainder of the Overseers’ exchange. Suddenly, a rather scruffy 32 dweller stood out before both groups—Lucy’s new husband. 

Overseer MacLean was the one to break the ice. “Now that we’re acquainted, if everyone can move into the main square of the atrium, we can begin the ceremony,” ushering everyone to move back through the vault entrance. 

Norm hangs back from the front of the crowd to walk back with you. 

“Lucy seemed particularly happy with her new husband,” you comment. 

“Yeah, she's a little too happy. I still hope he has one ridiculously unexpected flaw, like being massively afraid of the dark. So bad he has to sleep with the lights on or maybe a nightlight, just to make things interesting.” 

“You’re incorrigible,” you reply, shaking your head.

______________________________

The ceremony was completed, and everyone took their seats at the picnic tables in Vault 33’s atrium. You couldn’t help but look around and admire the decorations. The “outdoor” space always turns out lovely when decorated for weddings. It was the same with Steph’s wedding two years prior. 

You continue taking everything in from your seat, focusing to admire the various spots decorated around the Vault’s main space. You spy Norm at an opposing table with Vault 32’s Overseer. You suppose his dad might have placed him there strategically, perhaps as a political test; it wouldn’t be surprising that he’d want his son to follow in his footsteps as Overseer. That would be quite the sight. Norm had the potential without question; you weren’t sure he wanted the responsibility. He catches you staring and gives you an awkward wave back. 

You flash him a toothy smile in return. It’s becoming harder to ignore how much your feelings for Norm have grown. In just a few short weeks, you went from hardly giving him a second thought to having him consume your waking thoughts. While you two were generally ignoring each other, it was easy not to notice how much he had grown into his features, and you couldn’t deny you found them attractive. Handsome. Not to mention how he has always made you feel comfortable being yourself around him. No masking, no walls, just you. Would becoming more than friends ruin your dynamic? Was his friendship something you'd risk?

You didn’t get more time to dwell on your feelings as Overseer MacLean started his speech from atop the stage. You redirected your drifting attention. 

“Good evening, and welcome to the proud denizens of Vault 32. We are bonded not just as neighbors but by a shared duty. To keep the candle of civilization lit. While the rest of the world has been cast into darkness. Soon, if our measurements are correct, radiation levels on the surface are dropping fast enough that the next generation, Lucy and Monty’s children, will be able to recolonize.”

 Your fellow Vault 33 neighbors erupt into cheers and applause while the other Overseer, Moldaver? visibly tenses. Huh. Maybe she’s just as afraid of Reclamation as some of other dwellers. The whole concept is terrifying enough for people who have never left the safety of the Vault. 

Overseer MacLean continues as the volume from the crowd subsides.

“After 200 years, we don’t know much about what’s up there: desperation, violence, lawlessness. These survivors will need to be shown a better way. I’ll admit sometimes I’m afraid that mean old world will change us instead. But then I look at my daughter, who’s such a beautiful bride, and her new husband. And I am not afraid. I feel hope. To Lucy MacLean. And to this marriage. And to hope!” 

Another round of celebration emanates from the Vault dwellers, and he starts off stage—but not without one final decree: “Let’s dance! Hit it.” 

The command stirs the jukebox to life, playing “Some Enchanted Evening,” and the Overseer extends a hand out to Lucy for their father-daughter dance. 

♫ Who can explain it?

Who can tell you why?

Fools give you reasons,

Wise men never try. ♫

As you watch Lucy’s tender moment with her dad, you cannot help but feel a tinge of sadness for a moment you’ll never have. They’ve become fewer and farther between, but times like this really make you miss your dad. You continue to watch them pushing out the feelings of jealousy and embracing the joy you felt for your friend. 

Suddenly, they break apart. Urging another off to the side to join them. Norm. You see him shake his head disapprovingly but gets to his feet anyway; he knows a losing battle when he sees one. Soon, all three of them are on the dancefloor, embracing and swaying to the music. You think your heart might melt at the sight. 

♫  Some enchanted evening

When you find your true love,

When you feel her call you

Across a crowded room, ♫

As the MacLeans start to separate from their family moment, Lucy notices your presence off to the side of the dancefloor and flashes you a “stay here there, I’m coming to you” gesture with her hands as she heads in your direction. You embrace her in a celebratory hug when she makes it to you. 

“Congratulations!” you offer up enthusiastically. “You make a stunning bride.”

“Thank you! It’s all so exciting, isn’t it?!” she says, matching your tone. She shifts her position slightly, taking your hands and moving her mouth closer to your ear. In a whisper, she asks, “ I was hoping to ask if you’d do my brother the honor of sharing a dance?” She pulled back into your line of sight, completing the request with a signature Lucy puppy-dog stare. “Consider it my wedding present.”

“How could I say no to that?” you respond with a laugh. Still holding your hands and smiling ear to ear, Lucy ushers you back to her family. 

♫ Then fly to her side,

And make her your own

For all through your life you

May dream all alone. ♫

As the two of you approach, you can see Overseer MacLean gently elbow-nudging a mortified-looking Norm. 

“I saw (Y/N) by herself on the edge of the dancefloor and thought someone might like to invite her to dance?” Lucy says as she offers your hand up to Norm. 

“I’d be happy to,” he replies, taking hold of your hand to lead you onto the dance floor. With a surprising amount of flourish, he pulls the two of you into a traditional slow dance pose, his right hand in yours and left hand resting softly on your waist. Your bodies tucked unexpectedly close against one another. 

“Sorry about that,” Norm pips up, shooting daggers in Lucy’s general direction, which she returns, blowing him a kiss back. “You know how she can be when she gets an idea in her head—unrelenting.” 

“I don’t mind; I was actually hoping you’d ask. Your sister just guaranteed the odds.” 

He looks up at you, and his expression softens. You two fall into a comfortable silence, enjoying the moment and each other’s company. Swaying back and forth to the music, the world melts away behind you. It’s short-lived, though, as the Overseer makes his way back towards you and his son. 

“Sorry, I will need to steal Norm away for a second,” the Overseer states as he places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Just one family photo, and I’ll give him back,” he reassures you with a wink. 

“Not a problem,” you manage, hiding your obvious disappointment. 

“Find you after.” Norm declares, keeping a loose grasp on your hand as the two of you pull away, clearly not wanting to let go just yet. 

You give him a nod, relinquishing his hand. 

♫ Some enchanted evening ♫

#norm maclean #norm maclean x oc #norm maclean x reader #fallout tv series

[mochimooon]

oooh from the nonsexual acts of intimacy list could we get “accidentally falling asleep together” for Jean pretty please

Hi there! Thank you for the prompt! 🤗 Of course, that's a cute one!! Anything for you and Jean 🥹 ♡: Accidentally falling asleep together word count: 1k fluff, gender neutral reader Nonsexual Acts of Intimacy Prompts

You unwrap another piece of candy, not stopping to think it over as it disappears behind your lips. The chocolate melts along your taste buds in a way that is unimaginable. “I can’t stop. I’m in love.”

Jean peers up from his phone, blinking a few times to catch you reach over to the coffee table again for another helping. 

You hum, relishing the taste. “Please.” You point at the candy dish. “For my birthday—"

Jean sets his phone down, tapping at his temple. “Stored away in the archives.”

You nod, giving him a thumbs up as you swallow your mouthful. “Appreciate you, Woody.”

You bite back a smirk, reaching for the last piece of candy that escapes your grasp. The humor drains from your face, whipping a glare in Jean’s direction. 

He brandishes the candy with a cocksure smile. “Sorry, did you want this?”

You deadpan, stretching along the couch to seize it. 

But Jean rears back, a long arm dangling the sweet far from your reach. “You didn’t say anything, so I guess you don’t want this.”

You scoff, dropping your hand. It’s not your fault he came dressed as a cowboy to the Halloween party. And it definitely wasn’t your fault that Eren gave him the moniker ‘Woody’, which was then tossed around the whole evening. 

In your opinion, the costume suited Jean perfectly. More than once you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking at him during the party, looking like he leapt off the screen of a classic western. 

Gun holsters, a suede vest, a bandana that hung loose over his neck, the hat—it was a crime not to appreciate the costume.  

And apparently, it was also criminal to call him ‘Woody’. 

“Jean,” you say. “You don’t even like sweets.”

He lowers his arm, unwrapping the candy with a tilt of his head. “Who says?”

Your eyes narrow at the sweet in his hand, watching it ghost his lips. “Quit playing.”

“Play what?” Jean feigns innocence, amused with your irritation as he slips the candy between his teeth.

It’s a lost cause then, and you roll your eyes in defeat. You’re too tired anyways. Had you more energy, you would have put up a fight, which would include you pouting up at him because despite the bravado, Jean also liked to spoil you. 

Not tonight. 

You yawn, falling back into the couch cushion. “Well, there goes my reason for staying.”

Jean tuts. “All that candy and for what? You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“It’s the alcohol,” you yawn a second time, longer and more exaggerated. 

“It’s late,” Jean supplies. “Pretty sure Connie and Reiner have already passed out in their rooms.”

“Did they?” You smirk at him. “Look at us. We outdid the party hosts. No one knows how to stay awake.”

“We’re not in college anymore.” Jean grunts as he straightens on the couch. He rubs at his eye. “Sleep was optional back then.”

You pull out your phone, scrolling aimlessly. “Sleep’s for the weak.” 

Jean breathes out a tired laugh. “Nothing about that sounded convincing."

“I’m a night owl.”

But Jean’s right; there was no convincing him. From the way you sink deeper into the couch, eyes growing heavy, and back-to-back yawns bursting forth, there’s no denying it: you're ready to pass out.

However, you're hanging in there, rebelling against your body’s call for sleep, especially when you feel the weight of Jean’s eyes. “It’s rude to stare.”

Shifting in your spot, you turn to him, lying against the back cushions. Your head nestles beneath where Jean's arm rests atop the couch.

Jean shrugs, a tired smile spreading across his face. “Nothing else to stare at.”

Despite how drowsy you feel, Jean’s words and tender gaze are like shots of espresso, flooding your face with warmth. 

A beat passes as you both stare at each other. No pressure to look away or fill the silence. Maybe it’s the alcohol from earlier. Maybe it’s the stillness of the night, but it’s like time slows down. 

You inhale deeply, shuffling along the couch, scooting a little closer without meaning to. “Woody…”

Jean clicks his tongue lightheartedly, flitting his eyes elsewhere for a moment before they find their way back to you. “You just had to kill the mood.”

You snort, unable to resist yourself. “I’m kidding… So what, Eren called you Woody? He came to the party dressed like a dog.”

“Werewolf,” Jean supplies. 

You yawn yet again, blinking to stay awake. “Same thing. I like this.” You motion a lazy hand towards his costume. “I can get used to seeing you in this…” You muse the last part, unaware that you’ve said it aloud, sleep stroking your consciousness.  

The corner of Jean’s mouth curves and he turns away to hide his blush. Unless that was your imagination.

Blinking again, your vision swims, everything warps except for Jean’s face. 

He’s talking, but the words escape you no matter how hard you strain your ears to listen. 

You don’t realize your head droops, sliding down the cushion below his arm. 

Your eyes flutter, nose filled with the scent of cedarwood, the scent of Jean. 

As much as you’d like to spend the rest of the night talking, you’re powerless as your mind drifts, gently pulling you away from the waking world. You surrender, sliding forward, a faint smile on your lips. Your head rests on something solid, lulled to sleep by the sound Jean’s beating heart. 

Jean’s not surprised that you fell asleep. Rather he’s taken aback that you fell asleep on his chest, hoping that you don’t stir awake from his frantic heartbeat.

A minute passes and you’re still sound asleep. 

He smiles. He knew you wouldn’t last the rest of the night. Normally Jean would feel smug, but instead he's endeared. 

Your fingers clutch onto his vest and for a moment Jean thinks you’ve woken up. At the weight of your head on his chest, he knows that you’re knocked out. And he’s content letting you sleep. Wrapping an arm around you, Jean breathes deeply, and drifts in bliss. 

#jean x reader #aot fanfiction #Jean Kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot #mochi-writings #ask #buildabruh #fluff prompts #attack on titan

[manias-wordcount]

I hope you are doing good! And if requests are open might i request some hc of dabi, bakugo, and spike spiegel (its first boyfriend requester again sorry ;w;) reacting to reader who dresses up like them for halloween (or for spike reader dresses like cowboy andy hahaha)

Dressing Up Like Him HCs (Katsuki Bakugo, Dabi, Spike Spiegel)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!

𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗯 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @dogsandrocketsocks @pittbull-enthusiast @asuperconfusedgirl @rendartgrimson

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Dabi/Touya Todoroki

He’s gonna think you’re sooo cute lmaoo

He’ll tell you that too but only once or twice - he doesn't want it to get to your head

Chances are you’re probably wearing his clothes and string bean here long as fuck so it’s likely too big for you in certain ways

But he really likes the look of you in one of his shirts and his jackets (You look ridiculous in his pants because of just how ill-fitted they are on you but that’s beside the point)

The only thing that really throws him off is seeing the staples and skin graft scars on you

It’s a crude emulation of his actual skin grafts made from makeup and face paint, but it served as a weird and startling reminder of just how fragile you compared to him

The pain he suffered as a result of his own flames was hard enough but the idea of going through the same pain and process as him? No thanks 

So in the end, he’s gonna think you look cute and will definitely let you borrow one of his jackets anytime you ask because he likes how you look in them

But don’t show him what you’d look like when you’re hurt okay? 

Because who knows what he’d do if he saw you hurt like that for real

Katsuki Bakugo

Even since his debut, Halloween costumes of his hero costume have been pretty hard to come by

So you were pretty lucky to be able to snag a more feminine-looking costume a couple of years after his debut

It wasn’t the greatest material and there were definitely some details that they just didn’t get right (And you know he’d have something to say about the costume creators once he finds out later)

But seeing his face when you showed him the costume was more than enough for you to be satisfied

So naturally, he’s going to be super cocky and like grinning ear to ear like a complete dumbass

Like seeing his SO dress up exactly like him in a cuter version of his costume is really gonna make him happy because that ego is still a little unchecked

But he’s also gonna feel extremely proud

He knew of the existence of the halloween costumes and he knew he had fans

But something about seeing the person he loves most dressing up like him in a show of admiration and affection is probably gonna make him feel all soft and squishy and sweet on the inside

Not that he’d ever admit that though

Spike Spiegel

At first, he’s gonna be mad because the outfit absolutely reminds him of Andy

But then you hit in with the

“I’m a cowboy Spike! I’m just like you!”

And he’s gonna fucking melt

Suddenly all negative feelings he has about cowboys are being washed away by the image of you looking like you walked fresh off the set of Big Shots

Because he’s him, he gonna mess around with your hat and make you pose and say certain things from old western movies with a drawl

He might even sneak a couple of photos here and there (or he’s gonna be completely shameless about it and take candid photos of you looking cute right in front of your face)

And eventually, he’ll probably hit you with his signature snark and tell you that he doesn’t dress anything like that

But he won’t be quick to ruin your fun though - he’s got a lot more compliments to shower you with

Especially since you dress up like all for him

#dabi x reader #dabi #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfic #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fanfic #my hero #my hero x reader #my hero fanfic #my hero fanfiction #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha

[dresshistorynerd]

https://www.tumblr.com/thebaconsandwichofregret/189924928150/comepraisetheinfanta-thebaconsandwichofregret

whenever i see people rbing the op without the additions i die a little inside so i thought you should have a go at debunking it 🫠

So these are the tweets from the post. I had blissfully not come across it before. This is one of the weirdest takes I have ever seen. It's amazing to see these fashion history takes that are so boldly and confidently wrong and inaccurate.

It's honestly hilariously ignorant to think that a massive cultural and societal shift that took couple of centuries, was all because one guy. It's so reductive and even goes to the great man territory to pick one person to blame for something like this that really had much more broad and complex reasons than "a guy did it". It's stressed in this tread that Beau Brummell was not noble or a gentile and "just some guy", so how would he singlehandedly change the fashions and concept of masculinity of the whole western world? He was a London socialite, it's not like most of his contemporaries in continential Europe knew about him. Like maybe the French, but does anyone really believe people in Eastern-Europe or Nordic countries or in the Mediterranean knew about? Not to mention places like US. Yet everyone dressed like that in his lifetime, so how could his influence reach so far so quickly? Not even kings and queens could so directly and massively shift the fashions. So in the face of it the whole claim is ridiculous, but it's also full of inaccuracies.

The shift from Rococo fashion to regency fashion was extremely stark and quick in both men and women's fashion, but it happened during 1780s and 1790s, before Beau Brummell became a well known figure in the London society (he was born in 1778 and became well-known in the society after his military career, during which he befriended the Prince of Wales, around the end of 1790s). Here's first an example from 1780s and then from 1793-94 and 1797.

The one from 1780s still has some rococo elements like the wig, but it's already much more toned down and the coat is already turning from frock coat to a tail coat. It's an example of the more casual men's countryside dress from the period. The court dress was still quite elaborate, though also toned down from the 1770s. But there's a big shift when it comes to the examples from 1790s. They are unmistakably Regency fashion. All of these example are French too. I'm sure these people had no idea and gained no influence from an unknown middle class English officer. So what did actually happen? Well, I'm pretty sure the French Revolution in 1789 had a little bigger impact on the European society and fashion than Beau Brummell.

I'm not going to go too deep into this, since I'm working on an in depth post about the masculinity and fashion in the modern era and I go into detail about how the French Revolution had a massive part in shaping them. But the short version is that the French revolutionaries rejected the elaborate fashions of the Rococo French nobility (in both men and women's fashion) as those over the top fashions stood as symbols of the excess wealth of the nobility and the extreme wealth gap between then and the rest of the people. This is also why the high fashion was getting toned down thorough the 1780s before the Revolution. The anger towards the ruling class was mounting at the time and it encouraged the nobility to down down and try to act a little more palatable in their aesthetics to maybe appease the angry people without doing any actual change to address the wealth gap and the centralized power.

The revolutionaries looked for ideal masculinity and femininity elsewhere then. To contrast themselves against the ruling class, they looked to the antiquity and it's simplicity as well as the peasantry and the country gentleman fashion. Romanticism was the driving force behind the artistic expression of the Revolution. It weaved nationalism to the class struggle that was at the core of the revolutionary movement. So the Revolution was not just the working class and peasantry against the ruling class, but the French People against the nobility. This is when physical labour, militarism, dominance and leadership, really became intrinsically attached to masculinity, as the ideal man of the revolutionaries was a working peasant, who with military power took the the power back to the people from the nobility. The democracy would not last long, but it's not a mistake that only men could vote under the new democracy after the Revolution was won. It's also not a mistake that even when the post-Revolution France eventually abolished slavery (but not without some push-back first and a couple of slave revolts to force their hands) they did not give most people of color rights to vote. Since colonialism whiteness had become intrinsic part of masculinity and femininity, which was part of the dehumanization of everyone else, and the new form of masculinity and femininity born out of the Revolution did not contest that. In fact the Enlightenment philosophy that had laid the ground work for the Revolution and the Romantic movement and it's nationalism that were driving force in it, in no way contested colonialism or it's white supremacy. Which is why the power in the new democracy went to the (mostly) white men.

These elements were in the new men's fashion too. Nationalism, the idealization of militarism and antiquity seen as the origins of democracy made it and especially Antique Rome perfect inspiration for the Revolutionary France. The short hairstyle was inspired from the Roman fashion seen in statues. The fashionable tail coat was influenced by military uniforms and the short jackets of the working class. The long trousers also came from working class dress. Here's examples of the revolutionary fashion from first 1792 and then around 1790.

To be very clear, the revolutionaries were not a single entity with single ideology. They were collection of movements, who were united in their shared desire to overthrow the ruling class and establish some sort of democracy. But inside the movement were much more radical movements than what eventually ended in power after the French nobility. Socialists, abolitionists, feminists, slaves and others also fought for the Revolution and there was a lot of internal struggle too. Romantic movement was also very varied and contained extremely nationalistic elements as well as outright socialist elements.

Beyond the direct and stark effect the French Revolution had in especially France, but everywhere in the western world, the 18th century fashion was never as extreme as in France. If you put the most elaborate French court fashions of mid 1700s and Beau Brummell's style next to each other the difference is certainly massive, but fashion for men as well as women was always much more restrained and somber in England. Here's an English example from 1755-65 and for comparison a French example from 1755.

In fact as the tensions were rising in France the upper class begun to adopt the more toned down English styles. After the Revolution the new Republican styles would spread to Britain too. In Britain though Romanticism had a more pronounced effect as it stayed firmly monarchist. Therefore the English fashion was especially influenced by the styles worn by country side gentlemen.

There's another claim in the thread that fully fails to understand the broad implications of fashion and societal gender and how these things change and evolve. It's the claim that Beau Brummell created the modern men's suit and he's the reason the suit has long trousers. We already went through how long trousers got into men's fashion and it was not him. But the writer is not wrong in saying that Beau Brummell's outfit in this picture is a direct ancestor of modern men's suit. It is.

But you know what else is a direct ancestor of men's suit? This.

The modern three piece suit has it roots as far as in late 17th century. Before suit men wore doublets, which style resembled women's fashion much closer than the suits would after it (as seen in these examples from 1630s). However the distinction between men and women's fashion had started to grow much earlier. A big shift that happened during the 16th century was that men stopped wearing skirts. Men and women wore the same garments for centuries before that. The styles and silhouettes for men and women had some differences (the skirts were often shorter for men for example) but they were parallel to each other. I wrote a whole very long post about how skirts stopped being acceptable for men. In it I write about how the shift in men's fashion was part of the large shift from feudalism to colonialism and capitalism, that needed a new hierarchy to justify the new system after the previous divinely justified feudal hierarchy was no longer an option. The new hierarchy was white supremacist patriarchy and therefore needed a clearer distinction between white men and white woman, that would also help distinct white people from the racialised people.

But such fundamental changes in the societal structure and culture are long processes. The process was continuing in the latter half of the 17th century, when Orientalism first became very popular. Orientalism is the dehumanization and fetishization of Asia and North-Africa, and it was born as the European colonial project was properly getting going in Asia. Colonialism in Asia and North-Africa took a little different form. I suspect it was because it was not that long ago, when Europeans had felt inferior to many of the peoples and empires in Asia and North-Africa, which they had always had much closer relationships with than the rest of Africa and certainly the Americas. I think that's why Orientalism is such a mix of coveting Asian and North-African cultures and bodies in a very fetishistic ways, while also demeaning and diminishing them. Nevertheless, Orientalism had a huge impact on European fashion in late 17th century. Both the way men and women's clothing was made after that to this day was strongly impacted by Orientalism. The coat and waistcoat combination was an adaptation of Turkish fashion. The three piece suit became popular in 1670s and fully took over men's fashion in 1680s (an example from 1687). The cravat was also adopted around the same time to men's wear from a light cavalry mercenary army in the Habsburgian Empire known as the Croats or Cravats. They were mainly Croatian, which to Western European was almost "Oriental" due to their proximity to Asia and Turkey in particular, and therefore the popularization of cravats as a fashion item was also influenced by Orientalism.

The Regency three piece suit also has all the same elements as the suit 150 years earlier, the individual pieces had just evolved into different different cuts. The three piece suit in fact still has the same elements to this day, they have just kept evolving.

My point is not to in any way deny Beau Brummell's influence on Regency fashion. He was the most influential fashion icon for men in his era after all. I hope this just made it very clear that these bigger changes are not about individual people but much larger shifts and movements in society and culture. His actual influence was popularizing some of the English countryside styles mentioned before in the fashionable London society, making extremely elaborate cravats into the fashionable items of the day and becoming the image of the English dandy.

The picture of him above shows him the typical English countryside suit with dark blue tail coat, white cravat and light pantaloons with polished hessian boots. He helped to make the outfit and pantaloons in general fashionable. Breeches would stay as the formal leg wear for some a decade still, till young fashionable men would start to use black or gray pantaloons in formal events too. Pantaloons were very fitted, but the trousers, that were fashionably quite narrow at the time, but looser, really came into the casual fashion in 1810s. As seen before their roots come from the working class fashion that was first popularized in the French Revolution, but they had been very informal and while they were still not quite as formal to be able to use in a formal event, they became acceptable in more casual events. Beau Brummell is credited for inventing or at least popularizing pants that have strap to go under the foot in order to keep them straight. Here's first a painting from of a gentleman in a very country style emphasized by the setting. Then a illustration from 1810 of a full formal dress with breeches and a fashion plate from 1817 of day wear with trousers.

The thread also misses what dandy really was. Dandy was the embodiment of the middle class social mobility of the modern era. He was the "self-made man", the fashionable middle class and the new celebrity of a post-feudal era. He dressed in refined fashionable countryside middle class clothing and was celebrated for his style and refinement, not for his birth. Ironically though, there was a distinct reactionary quality to the Regency dandy. After all dandy did not embody social equality, but mobility. He was the ideal man of the capitalist hierarchy. A bit of dilemma for the dandy was that being extremely fashionable was central to the dandy, but after the French revolution being too fashionable and too concerned about looks had been associated with the aristocracy and was now therefore unmanly. Which is why dandy quickly came to be seen as effeminate. There is a lot of satiric cartoons from the time period that make fun of dandies and their preoccupation with fashion and looks. Here's couple from around 1810s.

In conclusion it's pretty ridiculous to say modern men's fashion was all created by one guy. The real reason why men's formal suit (and to be clear more colorful and elaborate styles have come and gone from men's informal fashion during that time) has been what it is for more than hundred years is because much bigger changes, like capitalism, colonialism, Orientalism and white supremacist patriarchy.

#fashion history #dress history #history #regency fashion #historical fashion #men's historical fashion #18th century fashion #answers #anon

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 4A, MATCH 1 OUT OF 2!

*Includes the original 1950 animated film, the 2002 sequel Cinderella II: Dreams Come True, and the 2007 sequel Cinderella III: A Twist in Time.

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Disney's Cinderella:

she is very iconic, she is super kind and has a beautiful dress

Submitting specifically because Cinderella III: A Twist in Time has lived rent-free in my head ever since I was a small child.

This Cinderella is most young (western) peoples introduction to this very story. Cinderella is so hopeful and by getting one small magical adventure, her whole life changes for the better. She is skilled and inspires such loyalty with her kindness that it’s hard to dislike her for any reason she gives. I’ve always been jealous of her ball hairdo too.

Walt Disney put all he had into this movie. And his favorite animation was the dress transformation scene. There’s a reason she is often front and center on the Princess group promotions.

she is the original. to me. probably the first exposure to cinderella for a solid chunk of people alive & on tumblr today. she is just a perfect encapsulation of everything that cinderella is, even if she's become warped in the public consciousness. also i'm pretty sure she's the reason why the glass slippers are so predominant in more recent retellings bc she is simply so iconic. 100/10 no notes 💜

She's maybe not the OG OG but she was one of the first animated Disney princesses and strangely enough it doesn't stop her from having an amazing personality. She's literally a slave but keeps being a nice person, forgiving and always doing her best. And the sequels absolutely didn't ruin her character. She's a sweet girl who tries to fit in but who's loyal to the person she is and who tries to change things always in a cute and sweet way to show people it's not that hard. She literally forgave Anastasia and tried to help her after all she did to her (the scene where the step-sisters destroy her dress still is terrifying to me)... she's awesome and deserves more recognition honestly...

(Mod's note: the following submitted specifically for Cinderella III: A Twist in Time, but I condensed the animated movies into one entry.) No she is not the same as the original Cinderella of 1950. This girl’s biggest chance was unfairly snatched away from her. When the Prince was brainwashed she was enough to get him to double take. She was so Right that their connection over powered magic. And she had to be rescued from a ship. And was almost crushed within a pumpkin! And finally had to expose another imposter, who turned out to be just another victim of Lady Trameine. This Cinderella fought harder for her love because she knew what True Love was like and she still was able to forgive those who asked for it.

(Mod's note: the following submitted specifically for Cinderella III: A Twist in Time, but I condensed the animated movies into one entry.) Listen yes it's the same Cinderella from 1950 but she has an arc in this one! It's Disney's greatest film!!

Listen I love them both but the animated Cinderella definitly shine in every single movie she has. And she has 3.

Vote for Cinderella because she deserves it and is still underrated in the Disney Princesses Franchise when she survived so much (ab*se... Lady Tremaine still terrifies me and she doesn't even have magical powers except when she steals the magic wand in Cinderella 3) Also one vote for Cinderella is one jump outside the window Henri is ready to do. Yes it's real.

Disney animated the original fairytale but definitely made it more magical and less creepy (like the birds making the step sisters blind? It gave me nightmares for ages). If I think: which one will I want to rediscover multiple times? Disney's Cinderella. Plus Cinderella 3 is a masterpiece.

Mofurun as "Mofurella"

listen. they do an episode where they're all sucked into Cinderella and they make the trans teddy bear Cinderella. Incredible story writing, 10/10, no notes.

Mofurdella is even plot relevant, that episode is how they get the Rainbow Carriage for their group attack anyway MOFURDELLA FIRST CINDERELLA PRECURE EPISODE TO GET ONE MOFURILLION VOTES

#cinderpoll #round 4 #round 4a #disney cinderella #disney cinderella animated #cinderella 1950 #disney's cinderella #cinderella #mofurun #mofurella #mahou tsukai precure #mahou tsukai prettty cure #precure #pretty cure #fairytale #poll tournament #poll bracket #character polls #polls

[13as07]

Elegant #1

(Shino Aburame)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to JUHiHUJi]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,502

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

It's a western theme wedding style cause I was lazy and didn't want to do research

Alcohol Use

———————————————————————

     I let out another strained breath, glancing over my wedding dress in the body mirror again. What if Shino doesn't like the style? What if he's getting cold feet? What if he leaves me alone at the altar? What if -

     "Wow," a voice says softly, drawing out the word. "You're so... beautiful." My sights jump up, glancing in the mirror to figure out who's behind me. Naruto's frame fills the mirror as he walks closer, settling behind me as his eyes jump over my dress. He's smiling ear to ear, with stars hanging in his eyes as he looks at me. "You're the second prettiest bride I've ever seen."

     "Second?" I ask, smiling back at him.

     "Ya, sorry but you can't beat out how pretty Hinata was at our wedding. She'll always hold that first place price."

     I laugh at the love-struck newlywed. Hinata and Naruto got married two months ago, and I swear he still looks at her the way he did at their ceremony.

     "Now, I know Sakura will drag me out by my ear if she catches me in here, the whole bad energy from seeing you - "

     "That's only for the groom, Naruto. Groom's men aren't included in that," I correct, shifting around so we can face each other. My squadmate looks pretty nice when he gets dressed up, even if his hair is still messy and pointed every which way.

     Naruto's cheeks dusty a slight pink as he rubs the back of his head. "Oh, right. Anyway, I remember the whole 'new, old, borrowed, blue' thing from my wedding. I don't know if you're doing that like Hinata did but I did bring you something blue just in case."

     "I wasn't planning on it but I appreciate the thought, Naruto," I tell him, leaning forward to wrap my arms around him.

He wraps his arms around me too, being careful not to mess up my perfectly constructed look for my special day. "Anyway, you want to see my gift?"

"Yes, I do."

"Just so you know, this is fully from me. I did it - well Hinata stitched it - but it was fully my idea, all of it," Naruto rambles, digging through his pockets in search of my gift.

He tugs out a square cloth, the main color being a rich blue with the edges being his signature obnoxious orange color. Naruto holds it in front of me, letting the cloth tumble undone to its full size. It's no bigger than a napkin. In careful stitches is the quote 'Trust is knowing that when a squad mate pushes you, they're doing it because they care'.

"Naruto," I mumble, reaching forward to hold the ends of the cloth.

"Pretty nifty, huh? Hinata had a section of Neji's robe turned into a handkerchief, so I asked her to do the same with my old jacket. I figured you could pin it under your dress. If not that's cool too. Oh! And don't worry, Hinata cleaned the material like a bazillion times."

     "Naruto," I call again, tears in my eyes as I lunge forward, wrapping my arms around his neck again. "You dumb gushy fox," I say with a smile and tears of appreciation.

     "Do you not like it? Oh! Please don't cry, you're going to ruin your makeup," he rushes out, carefully slipping at the water that threatens to ruin the makeup I spent an hour on.

"I love it, Naruto," I tell him, smiling at him to send the point home. "You big goof. Would you pin it to my dress?" I ask, shifting my skirt around to figure out where I want it pinned.

"Of course! Let me go find a pin."

————————————

"Just some final touches," Sakura mumbles, running the makeup brush over my cheeks again. "Oh, and a few puffs of perfume," she says, jumping to her feet and rummaging around the table covered in different products.

     "I can't wear perfume, you know that. It messes with Shino's kikaichus."

     "So, you know how Shino has been queasy off and on the last couple of months?" She mumbles, now digging through her bag.

     "Sakura," I utter, my tone warning because of the way our conversation is heading.

     "Well, it's because Hinata and I have been testing different perfumes," She finishes, standing up with a small box in her hands.

     "Sakura!"

     "Oh calm down, it was only a handful of times and only a squirt or two every time. No Shinos and no kikaichus were harmed. Besides, it’s your wedding day. You should be wearing a new perfume to celebrate. It just so happens to be the only perfume that doesn't annoy or make your husband's parasites sick. Now come here and let me spray you down."

     I roll my eyes at her but do get up from my spot. I twirl in a slow circle, letting Sakura coat me in the flower-scented perfume. "See? So much better, plus you can wear perfume more often since it doesn't mess with Shino."

     "I guess so," I mutter, shaking my head at her. I swear Sakura never uses her brain outside of missions.

     "Alright, I'll leave your fancy new scent here on the table," She says, making a show of putting it back in the box and leaving the box on the table. "We need to get going for your first look and such." Shino isn't much of an emotional man and is rarely emotional around other people, so we decided a private first look would be best.

     She leads the way, my veil in her hold, held above her head so it doesn't drag on the ground as we head outside. "Wait here," she mutters after the short walk, stopping long enough to situate the clips of my veil into my hair.

Sakura slips away, leaving me to admire the cherry blossoms as she goes looking for my husband. I do just that, walking along the small path and toying with the heavy branches being weighed down by the weight of their blooms.

Enjoying the scenery helps with some of the anxiety surrounding today. I'm more than thrilled to spend the rest of my life with Shino, but it's still nerve-racking to think about all the things that could go wrong today, let alone the future.

"You don't always have to be such a lug!" Sakura's voice rings out after a few minutes, tugging my focus in the direction we came from earlier.

My best friend is dragging my very soon-to-be husband down the short path, a blindfold wrapped around his eyes to ensure he's not cheating. Shino looks nice, dressed fancy for once and his hair slicked back instead of loose and bushy like usual. "I do not see the point in doing this. I will see her when she walks down the aisle," he grumbles, slowly trudging after Sakura as she pulls him my way.

"I don't want you loosening your macho-ness because you burst into tears in front of everyone," I tease, causing his head to snap in the direction of my voice.

A group of his kikaichus slips out, eagerly flapping their way toward me. Some stay buzzing around me, with a few others clinging to different parts of my clothing. This has been a common thing during our relationship, Shino's bugs ditching him to investigate me or chew at a bit of my chakra. I freaked out the first time it happened but he insists they mean no harm and it helps him feel close to me. Since then, it's come to be something that calms me down, which I need with how loud my heartbeat seems to be.

"I would not and will not cry," he mumbles, stopping in the spot Sakura leaves him in.

"Lug," she murmurs before turning toward me. "I'm going to go make sure everything is settled. Once you two are done, send Shino in and come wait in the corridor, alright?"

"Alright, I'll see you in a few minutes."

With that, Sakura turns on her heels to head towards the waiting guests, leaving the two of us alone for the first time today. "You don't think you're going to cry when you see me?" I ask, reaching forward to toy with his sunglasses that Sakura slithered the blindfold under.

"No, I do not," he whispers, his hands sliding up to wrap around my arms, causing more of his kikaichus to spill out, coating both of our arms now.

I slowly slide my touch backward, taking my time to rest his glasses on his head before I tug at the knot keeping the cloth in place around his eyes. Once the cloth is loose, I take a step back, letting the material dangle from my fingertips.

Shino's eyes are squinted because of the setting sun. I knew they would be, but I want to see his whole reaction especially since this is something that won't happen again. His sight crawls around my body, falling down my dress like a waterfall before climbing back up my frame like a mountain. "Perhaps," he starts, voice cracking as he repeatedly blinks. "Perhaps, I was wrong."

     Once the words are out, he breaks, tears rolling down his cheeks, chasing away the kikaichus that have been clinging to his face. Shino moves forward, enveloping me in his arms so he can hold me. "You look elegant, my Ladybug," he whispers into my hair, his little friends following their leader and knotting themselves in my locks.

     When Shino pulls back, his focus shifts from me to helping his beetles untangle their legs, being careful not to mess up my hair and not to hurt his bugs. He spends the whole time trying to blink away the fresh tears forming in his eyes; he fails, forming water lines down his cheeks.

     "Oh, Shino," I coo when he pulls the rest of the way apart from me. I cup his face, using my thumbs to brush away his tears. "You look very elegant too."

"Not as elegant as you, my dear," he mutters, leaning down to brush a kiss against my lips.

————————————

I shift my dress again, making sure it's laid perfectly as I wait for Kakashi to join me. There's about ten minutes until I'm expected to walk down the aisle with my Sensei giving me away to my husband, to my Shino. My nerves have evened out since our time together under the cherry blossoms, leaving me filled with nothing but joy.

"There's my gorgeous daughter-in-law," Shibi's soft voice calls from behind me.

I turn a bit, making sure not to mess up my carefully laid-out dress and my thin veil settled on top of it. I decided on a royal-length veil, more so because that's what Shino wanted than me, but it is his wedding as well. If he wants me to wear a long veil that trails behind me, I don't mind.

"You look lovely," Shibi compliments again, making his way forward. He stops in front of me, careful hands cupping my cheeks. He tilts my head down, brushing a gentle kiss to my hairline. "You are beautiful. The most beautiful bride my son could ask for."

"Thank you," I mutter, tilting my head back up so I can look at my father-in-law. A soft smile is on his face as he looks down at me. This is one of the few times I've seen Shibi truly content, which only solidifies my decision to marry his son. Shibi is the smartest man I know, and if he agrees with my decision it must be the right one.

"I have a gift for you, a temporary one," he mutters, pulling away from me. "Since Shino and you decided to have a night wedding, I figured a little extra glow would be nice," Shibi tells me, throwing up a few hand signals.

Soft flapping fills the space, a small squirm of bugs following the command they were given. "What are you doing?" I ask, tilting my head backward, watching the bugs settle in a neat line along the hem of my veil.

"Watch," he orders, shifting his hand placement to send out another command.

The bugs shift their wings, a soft glow coming from them, decorating my veil with the soft yellow coloring. "Shibi!" I call in joy, lunging forward to catch him in a hug. "It's beautiful! Thank you."

"You're welcome," he utters, unclinging my arms from around him. Shibi isn't much of a touchy person, a trait his son inherited too. "After the ceremony, I'll need them back, of course."

"Of course," I echo, sending him another smile.

     He nods his head, letting his hands fall back down to his sides. "I should get seated before the ceremony begins. I look forward to seeing you walk down the aisle," Shibi mutters, nodding his head once more before he slips around the corner, heading into the crowd that's eagerly waiting for me to enter.

     I adjust my dress again, carefully toying with my veil so I don't hurt or knock off any of the lightening bugs clinging to it. I have a few moments of silence, giving my anxiety the chance to crawl into my rib cage again. After today, Shino and me will be bound together forever, until the end of our time.

     "There you are," my Sensei calls, pulling me out of my head. "I didn't know you were done getting ready yet." He mutters, adjusting the pin-comb that's holding my veil in place. "You look like an angel."

     "You don't look too bad yourself," I tease, glancing over Kakashi's put-together look. It's weird seeing my Sensei out of his usual outfit.

     He rolls his eyes, letting out a disapproving hum. Despite the small banter, Kakashi still leans forward, resting the side of his head against mine with his arms loosely wrapped around me. "The lightning bugs are a nice touch," he whispers, squeezing me before he tugs himself away.

"They're a temporary gift from Shibi."

"Well, I have a permanent gift for you. Just don't tell the others, they might get jealous."

"Ya?" I ask, watching Sensei dig through his pockets, the familiar sound of our training bells filling the air when he tugs them out of his pocket.

Kakashi hums again, giving me a rare masked and closed-eyed smile. "Naruto gave you his gift already, yes?" He asks, clinking the bells so they'll ring again.

"Yes, he did," I answer, lifting a layer of my dress to show off the handkerchief Naruto pinned to my dress.

He nods again, bending down so he can kneel on the ground. Kakashi works carefully, unlike my clumsy squad mate. Sensei moves slowly, unpinning the handkerchief and laying it on his knee so he can wrap his bells around the pin before pinning both items under my dress again. "There, now you'll have all three of us attached to you during the night."

"When did you get all gushy?" I tease, shaking my leg a bit. You can't hear the bells around the fabric but I can feel their imprint against me.

"When Naruto got married, and again now. I'm sure it'll happen again when Sakura and Sasuke get married too," Kakashi answers, straightening up before taking his spot next to me. "Are you ready to do this?" He asks, prompting his arm out toward me.

     "As ready as ever," I answer, clinging to the bend of his elbow.

     "That's my girl," he mutters, poking his head around the corner to send Sakura the signal that we're ready.

————————————

Shino's hands cling to me for dear life, his social anxiety at an all-time high as he spins us in slow, small circles. His left-hand grips mine, his ring digging into my fingers, threatening to leave an imprint. His right-hand rests on my waist, clinging to the material of my dress. "I despise dancing," he mutters, focus flickering around the millions of eyes watching us have our first dance.

"I know."

"Everyone is watching us."

"I know."

"You are my wife now."

"You are my husband now," I echo, shifting forward, I loop my arms around his neck, laying his head on my shoulder. Shino gratefully takes the change, his arms tight around my waist and his nose buried into my neck.

We sway, still moving in slow circles around the dance floor. "I will not be dancing again tonight," he whispers into my neck, the feeling of his kikaichus exploring the new position, little legs tugging at the material of my dress.

"I know, I appreciate you doing this though."

"Of course, Ladybug."

Shino reluctantly pulls away from me as the song comes to an end, fresh tears raining on his face. "What's wrong?" I ask, hands jumping up to wipe away his tears before anyone else notices.

"Nothing, my dear," he answers, fingers wrapping around mine to pull them away from his face. "You... are perfect," he mutters, glancing around before quickly pressing a kiss to my fingertips. "Can we go sit now?"

"Yes we can," I murmur, smiling from ear to ear as my husband tugs me off the dance floor.

Cheers from the guests fill the room, a few of them jumping up from their spots to take up the dance floor as the next song starts. Kiba and Naruto are beaming from the head table, as are my bridesmaids; Sakura and Hinata. "Our baby is all grown up!" Kiba cheers, Hinata giggling and nodding in agreement.

"Be quiet," Shino mumbles, helping me into my chair before he sits down alongside me. Once we're situated, his hand messes with my dress, ruffling my layers in search of a small amount of skin on skin. "What's that?" He asks as his fingertips slide over the pinned presents from my squad mates, head tilting down to glance at the items.

"Bells from my Sensei and a handkerchief from Naruto," I answer, helping him move my dress out of the way.

He hums softly, fingertips digging into my knee as he clings to it. His thumb slides over my knee on repeat, a kikaichu or two crawling over his fingers, occasionally dipping down and crossing my knee. "You are perfect," he repeats, sending me a rare smile before turning to hell at Kiba again.

I smile to myself, soaking in the repeated compliment. "Well, Mrs. Aburame," Sakura teases, a huge smile on her face as well. "What does it feel like being officially married now?"

"Wonderful."

————————————

Sakura and I belt out jumbled lyrics of the song playing, the liquor in our system commanding our dancing with both of our wet blankets of partners watching. Sasuke and Shino are sat near each other, both men's full attention on us as we dance. "What do you think they're thinking right now?" She asks, her arms dangling over my shoulders as we move in beat with each other.

"Well, knowing Sasuke he's probably talking himself out of killing me and Shino might have one or two more songs in him before he gets clingy again."

Sakura lets out a loud cackle, the alcohol chipping away the bubbly cute persona she tries to maintain. Her laughter only increased when Shino starts heading our way. "You're wrong about Sasuke but it seems you were right about Shino."

"Right about what?" My husband asks, impatience in his voice as he stands next to us, both of us still swaying to the music.

     "About you wanting my attention," I answer, pulling away from my friend to wrap Shino up in my arms.

     "That is not what I want," he mutters, staying still as I squeeze him in my hold. "I wish for us to go home. I would like some alone time with my wife," Shino airs out the last word like he can't comprehend being able to use it.

     "What kind of alone time?" I ask, sliding my hands up to toy with the ends of his hair, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

     "Just... alone time," he whispers, a hint of pink dust on his cheeks. "Should I have it announced that the ceremony is over?"

     "Have them announce the party is over in thirty minutes," I mutter back, letting my arms fall to his shoulders, leaning myself against my husband. I tip my head up, lips brushing against his ear as I speak. "If you can't wait thirty minutes I'd be more than happy to give you a little... support." I let a hum out, flickering my eyes down.

     Shino's face is full red now, mouth gapping a bit. "That is not... we cannot... Ladybug," he stutters, as flustered with my straightforwardness as ever. "I am... that is something I have been excited about today, but that... that is an at-home activity."

     "I know, I'm just teasing."

     He lets out a sigh of relief, gently pulling me off of him. "Your mind is lacking the elegance the rest of you possess."

     "I know."

———————————————————————

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #shino oneshot #shino x reader #shino aburame oneshot #shino aburame x reader #shino aburame

[izvmimi]

love is here - izuku x reader, all might x inko

cw: fluff, smut, domestic, valentine's day content. bkg with mentioned female partner. pregnancy mention. minors dni. summary: you and Izuku decide to celebrate another couple's love this Valentine's Day. a/n: a repost from last year's valentines' day fic because i still think it's cute. features 1 terrible joke.

“Red or white?”

While checking the chicken cutlets still browning in the oven, you reflexively call out in reply,

“Red. Has to be red.”

“Of course.”

Closing the oven door, you glance over at Izuku who is hunched over in the glass cabinet in the portion of the living room you can see from your vantage point, and hear the clinking of glass bottles as your husband rummages through your admittedly small stores of alcohol. He pulls out a classic Pinot, and you recognize it as the pretty expensive one Bakugou and his wife (well mostly his wife, really) offered you months ago when you’d first moved into this new home. 

“This one?” He asks.

You tilt your head slightly, pondering. “Does your mom even like red wine at all?”

“I’m actually not sure,” he thinks, frowning as he attempts to recall any time he might have caught her drinking.

You purse your lips. “I think we have a Riesling in there. It’s sweet, she might like it,” you ask, before turning back to the kitchen to set up the rest of the dinner items.

Taking a glance at your phone, you check to see if Toshinori has replied to your text message requesting his ETA. The last answer you have from him is a sticker of his own face giving you a thumbs up and it makes you stifle a laugh. It kills you every time he does it, truly Dad behavior. 

As Izuku rounds the corner of the kitchen island to place the bottles within a decorative ice bucket on the dining table, he presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile, but then you remember his earlier deceit and shake your head.

“I cannot believe you told Inko I was pregnant!” 

He rearranges the bottles as well as a large bouquet of red, pink and white roses with a devious grin on his face, then raises an eyebrow at you.

“Is it really that bad?” He asks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s just a little white lie.”

“Villain,” you mutter under your breath just as your timer goes off. He laughs out loud. 

The next few moments involve you laying down two fine placemats across from each other, your nicest china, far too much cutlery (based on a guide both of you read about fine dining), and sparkling crystal glasses. Herbed chicken parmesan, steaming buttery lobster, roasted brussels sprouts, garlicky mashed potatoes, and angel hair pasta lightly tossed with olive oil and stewed grape tomatoes are set on the table along a light salad. You remembered something about All Might liking Western food and wondered if this was what he was thinking of. 

Then you suddenly remembered something else.

“Oh noooo, he doesn’t drink!” you exclaim. Before you can scramble for non-alcoholic options, Izuku has placed a particularly decorative container of sparkling water on the table.

“Just ahead of you,” he says. Always ready to save the day.

Water seems a little lackluster for a romantic dinner, you consider grumbling, but the table looks so beautiful by now that you decide not to let the perfect be the enemy of the good. 

“Everything looks amazing!” You announce, clasping your hands together. Izuku agrees and starts the music while you lower the lights, a very light jazzy mix, and as though right on cue, you hear a knock on the door while Izuku begins to light the red and pink candles one by one.

It’s Inko.

She’s dressed far nicer than you usually see her, green locks fully down for once, and you can tell that she’s taken her time to actually perform the skincare routine you’d recommended for her. In fact, you consider that her skin looks a lot healthier than yours and it brings you joy. There’s even a tiny bit of blush she’s applied to her cheeks and a touch of lipstick. The greatest thing she wears however, aside from her coral pink sheath dress, is a wide smile.

“___, congratulations!”

Your mother-in-law envelops you into a hug and for a moment her genuine unbridled joy makes you feel bad that Deku had come up with such a bad lie. You mentally remind yourself to scold him later a second time as you hug her back.

“I- uh… Yeah!” There’s an awkward laugh you let out as she pulls back and holds you by your arms, small tears of joy forming in her eyes. Your stomach turns.

“He told me there would be pictures so I dressed up and-” she starts, but by this time Izuku senses your discomfort and swoops in between you to give his mother a warm hug, then leads her to her seat. 

Inko is asking so many questions - How many weeks? Have we thought of names? Are you doing okay? Are you nervous? - that she doesn’t realize her son has sat her down and unraveled a napkin to place on her lap. Nor has she noticed that there are only two placemats laid out, or that you have just gotten a text from Toshinori that says he’ll be there in five minutes.

Smiling as Izuku stands besides her and deflects all her questions, you wonder if all of this is ethical. You may be teasing Izuku for his lie, but you’ve also told All Might that you were surprising Izuku for his birthday and throwing a party.

“That’s five months early?!” He’d asked on the phone.

To which, you sang, “That’s why it’s the perfect surprise!”

You’d given him too short of a notice to ask too many questions, and it worked out perfectly well because you could hear a second knock on your door.

As Inko’s eyes flitted to the door, her frown made it clear that she was realizing something was fishy.

“Am I missing something here?” she started, but before she could press further, All Might all but burst through the door, in powered up form and in a finely pressed shirt and tie, with his signature catchphrase - 

“I AM HE-”

He stops abruptly, blinking back and forth as he searches the room significantly lacking in people, slightly dark with mood lighting, and his eyes finally settle on Inko.

And he realizes just before she does.

Inko gets to her feet quickly, immediately apologizing at the squeak of the legs of the chair scraping against the floor as she scoots back, but points at All Might.

“You are-”

“Here,” they say in unison.

All Might nearly chokes as he powers down in a poof and slightly entertained but holding in your amusement, you pat his back, leading him to the seat across from Inko, who is being settled right back into her chair by Izuku massaging her shoulders.

“You tricked me,” Toshinori mutters helplessly under his breath, and you nod sweetly.

“Of course I did, All Might,” you say, patting his shoulder. He gives you a sharp glare behind him, meant to intimidate but failing miserably, then turns back to stare down at his plate.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize what’s going on here. You can see the redness on Toshinori’s sallow cheeks and it actually stirs your heart a little. 

Izuku turns down the music from the speaker set on the bar for just a moment before clasping his hands together.

“Yes, so we lied!” He announces. “But!”

He pauses and points to the spread before them. “____ did a lovely job today with all the cooking, and we wanted to spend this Valentines’ Day focused less on us…”

With this, he takes hold of your hand and squeezes it and you can’t stop the warmth that builds in your own face. 

“… and on the two of you.”

Inko gives Izuku a look that is something like a pout but she stays seated. All Might on the other hand shifts almost uncomfortably in his chair for a moment, and for a split second you wonder, standing close to Izuku and whispering, did we go too far? in his ear, if All Might will end up leaving and making the whole ordeal genuinely uncomfortable.

But then, he clears his throat.

“M-Midoriya-san, you look lovely,” he says definitively and almost in unison, you and Izuku’s hearts skip a beat. You’re probably boring a hole in Inko’s forehead at this point as you wait for her reply, and just to make sure you don’t continue to stand there creepily you nudge Izuku to start pouring drinks.

“Thank you,” she says after a pause. Her voice is gentle. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

You almost knock over her glass of red wine in surprise and Izuku’s eyes widen in your direction, but he himself is dangerously close to overflowing Toshinori’s glass. 

You make a face and he catches himself. You both agree that it’s time to leave.

After describing the menu lightly, the two of you let them know that you’ll be returning in a couple hours and have reservations of your own. Inko mutters something teasing about being cheap to one’s parents but heavily compliments the food regardless. You notice her generously spooning pasta onto Toshinori’s plate and his distracted look as he focuses on her face.

This ship will sail, you think.

“The car’s waiting for us,” Izuku points out, grinning, as you run over with a last glance at Izuku’s parental figures. He helps you put on your coat, and you hug him tightly as the door closes behind you.

…

By the time the two of you return, it’s fairly late. You’d been polite enough to send a message to Inko and ask her if she needed more time, and she had asked for 45 more minutes, to which Izuku responded with sheer delight.

“She’s been lonely for a while to be honest,” Izuku mentions as you make it up the elevator. “I wish I had realized it earlier.”

It must have been different for Izuku who had met Toshinori young, when the wistful look had not been present in Inko’s eyes, but you’d sensed it the first time you saw Inko and All Might interact. A little something, that was subtle and polite and respected boundaries, but ever-present and shared. Was it their shared hope for Izuku’s growth? Was it something more than that? You would never truly know what it was that engendered that affection but it didn’t really matter.

What did matter was that when you finally returned, All Might’s hand held Inko’s gently across the table. He did retreat rapidly once he saw the two of you and you only pretend to bounce your eyes for privacy.

“Did you enjoy the food?” Izuku asks cheerfully, as he clears the dishes and the leftovers for them. The Riesling is nearly gone, you notice, and you wonder if All Might had ended up helping finish off the bottle.

“Absolutely!” They say in unison, then look at each other again, and you can see that gentle fire between them that rivals the still burning candles surrounding them.

“Good,” you reply. Very good.

You sit down at the table with them and share in gentle commentary and a little bit of banter before the two are ready to make their exit and relish in the genuine smile on Inko’s face.

She’s cute when she crushes, you think. It’s another side of the lovely woman who made the one you love, and you can’t wait to tease her about it later, if only to get back at her for the fact that before the “real” adults leave, they admonish you for lying.

“Pregnancy?! How could you lie about something so serious, Young Midoriya?!” 

All Might is genuinely in shock as he stands in the doorway and for once Izuku actually is a bit embarrassed because his mentor’s face is so intensely disappointed that there’s not much he can say in response. He scratches at the back of his neck.

“See, the kids were polite enough to give you a lie that was far less grave… however, how could you seriously believe in a 5 month early surprise party?” Inko asks, slapping All Might with her handbag. He makes an exaggerated pained sound, as though she knocked the wind out of him and she laughs, linking arms with him before they leave.

“Thank you again for dinner,” they say and the two of you beam.

“Our pleasure,” you say in unison then laugh.

—

It takes the changing of clothes into bare skin and soft lingerie, gentle necking between satin sheets and far too many rose petals to completely distract the two of you from the events of earlier today. You are comfortably nestled in Izuku’s arms, legs tangled with his and face pressed into his bare chest until he stirs suddenly.

“Oh my God.”

Izuku shoots up straight like a board and you can practically feel the sudden sharp panic run through his entire body. He’s muttering something unintelligible under his breath and you give him a look of confusion until he finally speaks.

“What if he Plus Ultras my mom?”

“… What?” You repeat, incredulously.

He clutches his head dramatically.

“H-he’s going to have sex…with my…” his mouth falters.

You gasp when you finally realize what he means, then pause for a moment before bursting into genuine rip-roaring laughter. Izuku stares at you in continued distress as you end up in tears, covering your face with a pillow, peeking up at him, then laughing even harder at the pallor in his features.

“You have to be kidding me?! This just occurred to you now???” You crumble into another fit, kicking your legs this time into the  mattress while Izuku is frozen as still as a statue.

He might as well be shell-shocked.

A few moments pass as you try to recollect yourself, and maybe acceptance has finally set in because he mutters under his breath something about this whole ordeal possibly being a mistake, but nevertheless pulls you to face him, cupping your face in his large hands.

“Just don’t think too hard about it,” you whisper, pushing your hand through his locks, gently rubbing the back of his head.

He sighs into your touch.

“If I do, I’ll probably lose my boner,” he says, pursing his lips to the side. You laugh again and he eventually melts into a smile, and kisses you on the nose.

As he pulls back, his demeanor changes into something more smug, a tease. It’s the type of look he has when he’s about to be lewd and it’s a sudden shift but you welcome it.

“What?”

His eyes lower to your lips again, and he bites your lower one, then pulls back slowly.

“You know how I got in trouble for saying you were pregnant?”

“For lying,” you corrected him, with a raised eyebrow. He dips down and bites your upper lip, slower and more sensual this time. The sting of the bite has you wanting for a little more than just kisses, and he’s well aware of it.

He trails a finger up the curve of your thigh then rests his hand on your hip. Rubbing gently, he whispers, tone low and rich.

“What if we made it true tonight?”

Your throat dries and you swallow hard. He takes it as a yes and hooks a finger around the crotch of your panties, then another finger rubs up and down your slit. He stops right at the entrance to your pussy and presses inward. You wince. 

A thumb finds your clit and his lips find yours again. There’s a deeper kiss this time, and he pulls back once again.

“What do you think?” He asks, and the fact that he is starting to take more strained breaths is not lost on you. 

“Are you sure you can guarantee that in one night?” He’s far too confident, and you do like to shake it teasingly, once in a while.

“It’s not like I didn’t do the math,” he says. “You should be right around ovulation based on the last time I did a tampon and ice cream run for you,” he insists.

His fingers are still working and you gasp as he adds another.

“Izuku…,” you moan.

“I just need to cum inside you,” he insists, and with that he shifts so that he’s on top of you, hissing into your ear as your back arches and his hands pump.

“Once, twice… maybe ten times,” he says, with extra emphasis on the word ‘ten’, his fingers freeing themselves from the hold of your walls. You already miss the sensation of him inside you, and you grip his shoulders tightly.

“How’s that sound?” He asks, watching the lowering of your eyelids and the parting of your lips,  your green lights.

You tense as he dips down to take a breast in his mouth, then relax, wrapping your arms around the expanse of his muscled back.

You don’t mind giving birth to a Scorpio.

“Let’s make an honest man out of you,” you murmur into his neck, bracing yourself for his first glide in.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku smut #all might x inko #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: izuku #mimi's valentines #mimi's notes