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ichorai · 5 months

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weave ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; there was a rose in his hand, you realized. white, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. but it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for lucy gray. you would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. you’d also brought something for your tribute.

words ; 6.8k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury, lucky flickerman is a close family friend of reader's, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a fourth part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

It was humiliating, how nervous he was. Reaping day. The Plinth prize was just a whisper away—he could nearly taste it: phantom traces of rich chocolate and edible gold on his dry tongue.

The day before the exams, you’d pulled him into the library for one last study session. You whispered that you would botch one of your papers for him—he certainly needed the Plinth prize more than you. And though he knew that you’d be far more deserving of it (your grades were near impeccable, and impossible for him to try and compete with), he also knew that his pride wouldn’t ever recover from such a blow.

Because how could he face you after that? Knowing that he was… inferior?

And so he told you not to squander your own achievements for him—that he’d figure something out. You spared him a hesitant look, before turning back to your books.

Now that the exams were over and done with, Coriolanus briefly wondered if you went ahead and botched it anyway. An irrational sort of anger flared within his chest. Did you think you were better than him? That he was your charity case?

But all those terrible thoughts—the nastiness sweltering in his chest for days after the exams—dissolved almost immediately after seeing you.

You met him in front of the academy, your dress a lovely shade of crimson, angular at your shoulders but tapering down into flowing ripples below your waist. Like fire, almost. You were glowing, he was sure of it, with the way the sun illuminated only the best of your features—the slope of your nose, the curling of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes.

“Coriolanus,” you greeted with faux formality, tilting your head to the side. He was wearing his dress shirt again—the very one you watched Tigris mend and sew and tinker many, many times. Pinned to his waistcoat was another red rose, matching the shade of your own attire.

He mirrored you, sweeping into a low bow and brandishing another rose out of seemingly nowhere. “For you, darling. Grandma’am said she could spare it—special occasion and all.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous pet name. It was what your parents called each other when they thought nobody was around to hear it—it made you feel old. “And tell Grandma’am thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, stepping forward to slot the rose behind your ear. “Ready for your Plinth prize?” he asked, fingers lingering by your face, thumb stroking down your jaw.

You sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s going to be what either of us expect.”

There was a brief pause. Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed. Had you botched your exams for him?

With a pointed glance to the academy halls, you nudged him forward. “Come on. Everyone’s already inside. Clemmie keeps asking for you.”

The two of you made your way in, weaving between red-uniformed academy students (the ones who weren’t at the very top) and professors. Behind another set of double doors were where all the top-ranking students were mingling. Sipping on bubbling glasses of colorful drinks, picking off delicate foods from ceramic plates.

While Snow was stolen away from you by a few other classmate acquaintances, Sejanus was the first to greet you, shaking your hand enthusiastically. His palms were sweating. You didn’t quite mind. “Congratulations on finishing exams, Y/N. I know how hard you’ve been studying.”

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Congrats to you, too. I’m surprised you’re here at all, actually. I know how you feel about the reaping.”

His expression faltered. “Ma made me come. Moral support for my friends, and all.”

Ma. The word sounded foreign and heavy on the tongue. Unfamiliar… but rather inviting. Homely, in a way. Despite your initial silence, you managed to recover just fine. In a lowered voice, you whispered to him, “Well, my mother thinks it’s a rather dreadful affair. A waste of potential talent, sending children to their deaths, she says. I can’t help but agree with her. Father thinks it’s necessary, though.”

Sejanus pursed his lips. No doubt questioning the necessity of watching the people he knew from his childhood in the district getting brutally murdered. It looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, Arachne’s high-pitched voice cut through the two of you. You grimaced, catching Coriolanus’ eyes as he stood right behind her. Judging by his mildly annoyed countenance, he wasn’t having a very good time chatting to her, either.

“Spill it, Sejanus,” she demanded in a prissy tone. “Who won the prize?”

The dark curls on Sejanus’ head shook as he silently scoffed. “Oh, no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him but they do love his money… you know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?”

Her nose wrinkled in part-contempt, part-disgust. “Funny,” she deadpanned.

Coriolanus stepped around her so he could curl an arm over your waist. “We all know who’s going to win it, anyway.” His grip squeezed over the smooth fabric of your dress.

Arachne rolled her eyes and marched away, off to find someone else to bother.

Left with just the two of you, Sejanus dipped his head and muttered, “Look, I know you guys have had high hopes for this but… there’s no prize. Not anymore.”

There was a terse pause. Your head reared back incredulously, searching Sejanus’ expression for any signs of fibbing. Then you looked to Coriolanus, eyes wide.

“What?” he asked, words sharp, looking almost offended.

“I’m so sorry—”

Before Sejanus could finish his sentence, loud trumpets echoed throughout the hall and all the students began making their way to the plush velvet seats laid out in front of the podium. Coriolanus’ hand slipped away from you, balling into a tight, pale fist. You sat down first, Sejanus going on your right, Coriolanus to your left. Clemensia was on his other side, flashing you an attractive smile. You couldn’t find it in you to smile back.

If there was no prize, what were they going to dole out instead? A free holiday, all expenses paid? A new television? A pair of fuzzy socks?

Your rather prickly thoughts were interrupted when a woman stepped up behind the podium. She was dressed in lavish plum robes, intricate beige patterns weaving through the threads. From afar, it looked like there was flesh stitched onto the fabric. Her hair was greyed and a calculated sort of haphazard. One of her eyes was beady and blue, the other dark and large, almost eclipsing any of the white bits.

She tapped the microphone once, earning herself a buzz of feedback, and tittered with unnerving laughter. Volumnia Gaul was what she introduced herself as. Her voice was low and gravelly. When she went on to say that she was the head gamemaker, your and Coriolanus' heads both snapped to Sejanus, but his gaze was fixed onto the ground, face grim.

After a bit more faddering about the future, Dr. Gaul introduced the creator of the games and dean of the academy—Casca Highbottom. He sauntered forward from somewhere within the seats, mind very clearly addled with a drug of some sorts. Morphling, you’d wager.

“I can’t believe they still allow him to speak in public,” Clemensia said to Coriolanus amusedly. He didn’t spare her a response.

He dragged on his little speech, as if he took pleasure in dangling the golden carrot in front of the donkey. Your hands twitched in an antsy fashion, and you neatly folded them over your lap.

“My own twenty-four top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studying in this prestigious institution, eager to know who’s won that Plinth prize, no doubt. And a golden future, with it.” He catered forward with a slurred laugh. “However… I’m here to tell you all that there’s been a change this year.”

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. Coriolanus’ chin lifted higher, back straightening.

“One last assignment to prove your worth,” Highbottom continued on. He began to pace back and forth, reminiscent to that of a caged tiger. “The esteemed citizens of the Capitol simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience, no?”

More murmuring. Your eyes narrowed. Twenty-four top students… twenty-four tributes…

Oh, no.

You sucked in a quiet, barely noticeable inhale with the realization. It was enough for Coriolanus’ eyes to land on you, but you were staring at Sejanus, as if trying to get him to hear your thoughts.

Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we won’t have to play a hand in such a barbaric game.

“Head gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.”

For a moment, Highbottom’s gaze drifted over to you. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Arachne’s affronted, “Excuse me?”

You weren’t quite sure why she was upset. It’s not like she had a chance with the prize if it were grade-based.

“Instead, it will be decided by who is the best mentor in the hunger games.”

Your jaw clenched. Clemensia appeared bewildered. Coriolanus looked shaken. Sejanus was visibly distraught.

“As the reaping begins, I will allocate each one of the top twenty-four Capitol students a district tribute. A figure behind the scenes—one who must persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

This was met by a barrage of questions and protests from the students. Highbottom waved most of them away.

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles. Not survivors… victory in the games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.”

It was a terrible thing to imagine. Two dozen district lives in exchange for a bit of cruel entertainment for the Capitol. You were never fond of it, but you kept quiet on the matter because you had the luxury of turning your head away. Turning the television off and straying away from such brutalities.

But now that you were being forced to look—no, more than that—you were being forced to pull strings, it was altogether a nauseating thought.

“Oh, and I must warn you… anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage…” Highbottom’s spectacled eyes swept over the lot of students. “Well, they’d just have no future at all.”

More trumpets rang throughout the hall.

The Dean clapped his hands together. “Here we go! Let the reaping ceremony begin!”

Two large screens hanging over the podium lit up for the first district—a tall boy on the left, a sallow-faced girl on the right. Dean Highbottom began to list off student names as mentors.

To none of your surprise, Sejanus got the male tribute from district two. Coriolanus shot him a thinly-veiled, wry smile over your shoulder. “You got the pick of the litter.”

Sejanus refused to meet his gaze. “You forget… I’m part of the litter.”

On the names rattled—districts three, four, five, six, and seven all passing by in a blur.

Juno Phipps was called out for district eight’s male tribute. She sat somewhere behind you, and you could hear her puff a sigh of disappointment.

Then your name came straight after.

Your head snapped from Highbottom to the screen, eyes widening.

Wovey, her name was. She was a small little thing—you could see her frail, skeletal figure even through a grainy screen from afar. The striped dress she wore was patchy and frayed, darkened with soot and dirt. How old was she? She was probably one of the youngest tributes yet—you’d guess that she was barely thirteen, maybe even twelve. Something in your stomach jolted. Momentarily, you’d forgotten that this little girl was meant to be your school project.

District eight. The textiles sector. You blinked at the screen and shifted uncomfortably in your expensive-tailored dress—a dress that very likely came from the very same district.

Highbottom called out names for the next district. Clemensia was pleased with her large, burly tribute from the eleventh district. Coriolanus was yet to be mentioned. You glanced over at him, before reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t look at you, but squeezed your palm in what you read to be silent gratitude.

And finally—with only one tribute left, Highbottom coughed out what sounded to be a laugh. “The runt girl from district twelve… she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

The grip he had on your hand tightened until it was bordering on painful. You said nothing about it. Highbottom had always been a grouchy man, but he seemed to have a fixation on making Coriolanus’ life as tormentable as possible.

Lucy Gray Baird.

You watched the screen in fascination when a woman sauntered out from the ranks. Her hair was dark and curly, unruly in a way that suited her perfectly. Upon further scrutiny, you noticed small wildflowers woven through the strands, limp with time. She wore makeup, which wasn’t something you often saw in tributes. A deep blue eyeshadow and slightly-smudged rouge on her cheeks and lips. But what really caught your attention, however, was the dress she was wearing. It was a startling contrast to her name—with its bright, colorful ruffles on her skirt, the front of her corset bearing lovely details of flowers and vines.

She was beautiful.

“What is that dress?” sneered Arachne, in an obvious attempt to rile Coriolanus up. “Is she some sort of clown?”

But suddenly, Lucy Gray stepped out of her path towards the stage and grabbed a girl to her right. Or, more accurately, the girl’s collar. She promptly dropped something down her dress and hurried off. Screams erupted from the screen as the girl writhed with terror, screaming for someone to, “Get it out! Get it out!”

Coriolanus stood abruptly, letting your hand go. You hadn’t noticed just how much feeling you’d lost in your arm, and gingerly shook it back to life.

The grainy screen showed a small snake skitter out of the bottom of her dress.

When Lucy Gray finally made it up on the stage, she was harshly struck across the face by district twelve’s mayor. The blow made her head crack to the side and she went tumbling down. You frowned, but couldn’t take your eyes away.

It took two peacekeepers to haul the furious mayor away. You mutely realized that the girl was the mayor’s daughter.

Lucy Gray laid there, face aching.

And then—singing. A small voice from within the crowd. Five seconds later, another joined. And another, and another. Even through the screen, when Lucy Gray tilted her bruised face up and struggled back onto her feet, you could see the pain in her eyes. Was that her family singing for her?

The woman made her way to the microphone. She began to sing with a quivering lip. Her voice was soft and smooth, silken to your ears.

“She’s singing?” Arachne commented in a pinched tone. “Is she out of her mind?”

“Shut up, Arachne,” you turned to snap at her. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else, to your relief.

Coriolanus watched the screen with unsettled eyes. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Most unpleasant, many rageful, some curious.

And to bring her singing to a sudden halt, Lucy Gray screamed into the microphone.

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!”

The students burst into laughter, incredulous gasps, and scandalized murmurs. Coriolanus glanced around. He met your eyes, and you gave him half an amused smile. His tribute knew how to put on a show, that was for sure.

He smiled back, and turned to the screen once more.

Lucy Gray lowered herself into a deep bow for the audience. District and Capitol alike.

What an intriguing girl, you thought.

“She’s mentally ill,” Arachne buzzed.

It took every bit of your willpower not to turn around and strike her across the face. But you thought back to the furious mayor, and of the little girl you were supposed to mentor, and kept your hands folded neatly over your lap.

You found yourself at the Snow penthouse that night. There was nothing to study, not anymore, so you lounged on a rickety chair and watched Tigris sew together pieces of blue fabric. She wanted to make you a dress, and though you had more than enough of your own, you couldn’t ever say no to her. Being around her took your mind off of the games, even for just a few minutes.

Coriolanus, however, was pacing back and forth in front of the two of you. Muttering angrily under his breath, nose twitching with disdain.

“He’s sabotaging us. That girl’s never going to win the games,” he hissed, plucking the rose off of his waistcoat and tugging at its petals. They fluttered down to the floor. “You saw her, didn’t you? She’s underfed. Unstable.”

Pot, meet kettle.

You pursed your lips. “Highbottom said you’re meant to make a performance out of them. It isn’t just about winning.”

“Everything is about winning!” he asserted, carding a frustrated hand through his flaxen tresses. “If not the games, then the crowd. And Lucy Gray won’t survive a minute inside that arena.”

You sighed. Little Wovey didn’t seem too likely to survive, either. She wasn’t a fighter by any means. Maybe she was a fast runner?

“So that means we have to make every second before then count.” Coriolanus reached out to cup your face, and you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. Tigris shot the two of you a side glance and smiled to herself.

“What’re you planning?” you asked.

“I’ll make her sing again,” he said, sounding so sure of himself.

This made Tigris’ brows cinch together. “I wouldn’t sing a note for you if I was her. I wouldn’t do anything at all… not unless I knew I could trust you.”

Coriolanus regarded his cousin with a cynical stare. “She’s district, Tigris. She knows we hate her and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

“We?” you echoed, shaking your head. “I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her. Do you?”

“I—”

You lifted up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Do you know her, Coriolanus?”

His jaw set with a click. You had your answer.

“How can you hate someone you don’t know? Look, you don’t have to like her. Just convince her that you do.” You crossed your arms, thinking of the little girl you were meant to mentor. It was going to be hard to like her, anyway, knowing that she was going to die soon. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached.

Tigris nodded emphatically. She paused her needlework and looked up at her cousin. “Imagine it was your name they pulled, and you were ripped from your home. I’d just want to know if somebody still cared about me out here. Don’t discount her just because she’s district, Coryo. You might have more in common with her than you think.”

Coriolanus plucked the last rose petal from the stem. You watched him with soft eyes, before drawing yourself up to your feet.

“I think it’s time I head home. My family’s got dinner with the Flickermans tomorrow.” You placed a limp hand on his jaw and kissed his cheek, then drifted down to kiss his shoulder. He smelled distinctly of roses—a fresh sort of musk.

Just as you were about to pull away, he rested his hands on your forearms, rooting you to the same spot. “We should greet them at the station. Show them that they can trust us.”

You searched his face for genuinity. It wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

“You sure?” you asked. It wasn’t a secret just how uncomfortable Coriolanus was around district folk.

“Yeah. We can… get ahead of the other students. You’re way more approachable than me, anyway. Maybe they’ll like you more,” Snow offered. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you said no.

The thought of meeting your assigned tribute made your stomach do somersaults. Finally, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the station, then?”

Snow smiled in a charming manner. He dipped forward to slant his lips over yours, and you melted into his touch, almost forgetting that Tigris was there—until she made a noise of disgust and told the two of you, “Eugh! Do that somewhere else, please!”

Coriolanus was there before you, sticking out like a sore thumb in his academy red against the cold, rusted metals of the train cars. You wore a dark coat over your uniform, trying to look a little more discreet.

“Are they here yet?” you asked, steps quickening to him. He took your hand and squeezed.

“Anytime now.”

The two of you stood shoulder-to-shoulder as you waited, exchanging light conversation. There was a rose in his hand, you realized. White, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. But it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for Lucy Gray. You would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. Still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. You’d also brought something for your tribute.

A juice box. Grape. Still cold, beading with condensation.

You wondered if they had juice boxes out in district eight.

Another train rolled to a grueling halt to the track on your left. The cars were due for a good scrubbing, you thought. They were absurdly filthy—you weren’t even sure what its original color was meant to be.

Peacekeepers stepped up, disregarding the two of you, and began yanking the doors open. There were disgruntled noises coming from inside, and a few minutes later, the grey soldiers were pulling out the tributes.

You searched through the small crowd frantically. The boy from 11th—Reaper, you recalled his name was—caught your eye and just about snarled. You tried your best to ignore him.

When you found the little girl, little Wovey, you slipped away from Coriolanus and stepped forward. In your peripheral vision, you spotted him moving towards Lucy Gray.

Wovey was staring at a particularly uninteresting spot on the ground. She had her skinny arms wound around her midriff as if she was cold, despite the warm temperature that morning. When your shadow fell over her, her large, tearful eyes slid up to meet yours.

“Hello, Wovey,” you whispered in what you hoped was a welcoming, not-at-all-intimidating voice. You told her your name, making sure to enunciate the syllables slowly, so she’d have no problem repeating it back. She didn’t, but perhaps she would later. “I’m your mentor.”

“Mender?” Her voice quaked.

“Mentor. I’ll be helping you in the arena, during the game. Here, I have something for you.” You reached inside your coat, eyeing the peacekeepers warily. Either they didn’t notice, or they were just pretending not to. You wondered how many of them knew your father. “Do you guys have juice boxes back where you live?”

You held out the cold little box for her to take. She blinked at it warily.

“It’s grape,” you said.

She reached out and took it from you. You offered her a gentle smile, and she mirrored you with a shy grin.

“Can I share it?” she croaked. Wovey looked back at the male tribute from the same district—Bobbin. Were they friends?

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly.

Sweetheart? Where’d that come from?

The peacekeepers began rounding up the tributes, shoving them in the direction of a truck. You dipped your head at one of the grey soldiers as he took Wovey’s arm.

“Be gentle with her,” you told the peacekeeper. He met you with a stoic expression, but nodded once, before urging Wovey onward.

It was hard to tear your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to do so, bounding towards Coriolanus and—

“Lucy Gray,” you greeted, just before saying your own name as you moved to stand beside Snow. Her dress looked even brighter in person, even if it was caked in filth. “I hope Coriolanus hasn’t scared you off yet.”

“Who’s this?” she asked, her dark eyes flitting from Snow to you. “Another mentor?”

“Mmh. Not yours though. I’m dedicated to the little girl from district eight,” you replied.

There was something in her eyes that softened.

“You’ll take care of her?” she asked.

You exchanged an uncertain glance with Coriolanus. “I’ll try my best to. Just like my boyfriend here for you.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Y’all make an attractive couple, that’s for sure.” Lucy Gray smiled, wide and genuine. It faded instantaneously once she spotted a peacekeeper approaching. She plucked the rose from Coriolanus’ unsuspecting hands. “Well… good luck with that.”

The soldier grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the direction of the car.

Coriolanus stepped forward. “Wait, no—I, hey, I’d like to escort my tribute—”

They all ignored him. You pursed your lips, before following behind two of the soldiers, peeking around the bend. The truck’s doors were wide open for you to slip into. Snow met your eyes when you beckoned him over.

“We can sneak in,” you whispered. “When they’re not looking.”

“Are you insane? We don’t know where they’re going!” he responded in a lowered voice, taking your arm, not unsimilar to how the peacekeepers grabbed the tributes. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“They won’t hurt me,” you told him. It didn’t dawn on you that Coriolanus was referring to the district tributes, not the peacekeepers. Quick and chaste, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “You coming?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He blew out a frustrated breath, before letting you go and giving you the green light by motioning for you to get a move on. Nerves peaking with adrenaline, you glanced around again, satisfied that no peacekeepers were looking, and rushed into the truck. You felt Coriolanus’ chest brush against your back as he hurried in after you.

You hid in the shadows of the trucks’ slants just as the peacekeepers slammed it shut. A victorious smile stretched your lips thin. You made it.

Oh, your father was going to murder you. Snow first, maybe, and then you. Your mother would probably find the situation all too funny. Though, as you found all the tributes’ eyes locked on you and Coriolanus, you realized that it probably wasn’t funny at all, not in the slightest.

“Hello,” you said in an awfully wavering voice. Coriolanus echoed your sentiment, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy?” Reaper asked him with a scowl. “You in the wrong cage?”

“No,” he responded with a minute shrug. “This cage is delightful.”

The truck practically swayed as Reaper stormed closer to him. You instinctively grabbed his forearm, pulling him back. But clearly not quick enough, seeing as Reaper grabbed the lapels of Snow’s academy uniform, shoving him up against the wall with a loud thud. Coriolanus let out an oomf with the impact, blinking sudden white stars out of his vision.

“I’ll kill you right now!” Reaper hissed.

“He’ll do it, too,” warned Dill. The girl from his same district. “Reaper killed a peacekeeper back in eleven.”

“I say we kill them both!” another tribute from somewhere behind sneered.

“I’m in. Nothing left to lose now.”

You stood frozen, afraid that one wrong move would send Reaper into a frenzy. Instead, you spoke calm and clear, “We’re here to help.” Your eyes found Lucy Gray’s, then traveled over to Wovey, squeezed in the corner. “We want to help you.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy Gray said, “Y’all got family back home? They’ll kill them if you hurt a hair on their pretty Capitol heads. Then you. ‘Sides… the blonde one’s my mentor. I might need him.”

One of the tributes from district four curled her lip in contempt. “How come you get one?”

“You all get one!” Snow told her, which earned him another enraged shove by Reaper.

She guffawed—Coral, yes, that was her name—with incredulity. “What, and we’re just supposed to believe you?”

“Why else would we get in here with you?” you said, exasperated. “We don’t even know where they’re taking you guys.”

Coral cocked a brow so high it nearly disappeared behind her choppy bangs. “Whose mentor are you?”

You limply waved your fingers at Wovey. “District eight’s girl.”

“So how come Skinny and Rainbow get special treatment? Why aren’t my mentors here?” Coral leaned down towards Lucy Gray in a taunting fashion, barely glancing over at Wovey.

Lucy Gray smiled, all toothy. “They just got inspired, I guess.”

A moment later, a loud rumbling came from outside the truck. Had they already arrived? There was a whir, and the whole truck began to tilt downward. The doors swung open and shocked gasps echoed throughout the metal cavern.

Reaper relinquished his grip on Snow to grab hold of Dill, and you launched yourself at Coriolanus, trying your best to grapple onto the grooves in the walls so you wouldn’t slip. Lucy Gray yelled as her foot slipped and she went toppling down—

You grabbed her hand, grunting with the combined weight of two people. Coriolanus’ grip on the wall slipped, and he bumped into you, causing your fingers to fumble.

The three of you went rolling down, out of the truck, back into the blinding sunlight. Your shoulder hit the ground hard, another sharp rock digging painfully into your back. That’d definitely bruise later. Disoriented, you dragged yourself up from the ground, frowning at the stinging sensation in your legs. Coriolanus was next to you the next second, grabbing at your face and arms, asking if you were alright. You nodded a few times, before pushing him away to see if the tributes were okay.

All of them were dizzy and aching, but other than that—seemed just fine. Or, as fine as they could be, given the circumstances.

Only then did you look around your surroundings. Metal fencing, dirt pen, discarded tires—Capitol citizens watching with wide, curious eyes. You caught sight of the Capitol Zoo’s insignia on an ice cream stand just past the fencing.

“Ugh,” Coriolanus muttered, pale blonde hair properly tousled over his forehead. “What are all these people doing, staring at us? Don’t they have anything better to do? Don’t they have jobs? The children should be in school. It’s no wonder this country is in shambles.”

“The kids are on summer break, Coryo,” you deadpanned, shirking off your dark coat to give it a good dusting.

Then, a familiar voice made your head snap towards the crowd.

Cameras. Mustache. Coin flip.

“We’ll just give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath—I do have to admit I’m jealous of that big entrance! I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, a man who needs no introduction.”

Oh, he certainly didn’t. He and your mother were tight-knit buddies when they went to school together, making the Flickermans good family friends. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Guess where I am today, folks! That’s right, the Capitol Zoo, where this year’s tributes will be held here, on display behind these bars for your viewing pleasure! That’s right, all twenty-four of them—” That was when he turned to point, and his eyes landed on you and Coriolanus. His words faltered. “What in Panem—is that academy rouge I see?”

You stiffly waved at the camera. Absent-mindedly, you passed a hand over your head to fix your hair.

“Hey, Mr. Flickerman,” you called out with a grimace.

Lucky’s eyes bugged out of his head. He exclaimed your name in part-confusion, part-shock. “Hey, what’re you doing in there, kiddo? Who’s that dashing young man with you? We’re live!” He jutted a thumb back at the camera, its lens facing straight at you.

You spared him a stiff smile, eye twitching. Oh, your father was going to pop a blood vessel, you were sure.

“Uhm… well, uh—” The words caught in your throat and you lowered your voice so only Coriolanus could hear you. You had to ignore Lucky’s constant calls for your attention. “What do we do?”

His blue eyes, even paler in the bright sunlight, roamed over the onlookers. “We do what Highbottom told us to do,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He nudged you in the direction of Wovey, and began setting off for Lucy Gray. “We put on a show.”

You watched as the two, mentor and tribute, made their way to the fencing. As if there was a flip of a switch inside him, Coriolanus began to charm the onlookers and children, showing off his pearly whites, introducing himself and his rambunctious tribute. The children were enamoured with Lucy Gray, it seemed, judging by the way they bubbled over with questions about the snake, her colorful dress, her singing.

Lucky was having the time of his life interviewing them. If not for the current situation at hand—that being you trapped in a zoo enclosure—you would’ve laughed at his earnest excitement. Being a weatherman, a reporter, and an amateur-magician was apparently growing far too monotonous for someone with as large a personality as Lucretius Flickerman.

After much deliberation and cheek-biting, you turned and made your way toward Wovey, who was sitting down next to Bobbin on a tree stump. You noted the purple juice box, now crumpled and empty, discarded on the ground between them.

“Hey, guys,” you said, lowering down to one knee to speak to Wovey. “Do you want to go introduce yourself, sweetheart? Win over the Capitol citizens’ hearts?”

The young girl screwed up her face. Whether it was from shyness or distaste, you weren’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“I’ll be there with you. I promise,” you told her, holding your palm out for her to take.

Tentative, Wovey slipped off of the stump and clutched onto your hand. The two of you approached the barriers, with her nearly hiding behind you, clutching onto your coat.

Lucy Gray told the growing audience about her Covey family, a group of traveling musicians, and how she wasn’t actually from district twelve. Snow watched her with a somewhat proud, victorious expression.

Lucky noticed you approaching, beckoning for the cameras to follow him as he made his way over to you.

Quickly, he covered the top of the mic to lean forward and whisper, “Is the academy aware of what you’re doing?”

“No. Nobody told us not to, though.”

Lucky regarded you knowingly. “And does your father know about this little escapade of yours?”

“No,” you replied, frown-smiling.

“Ooh. Good luck with that.” He spared you an amused wince. Then, he uncovered the microphone and gave the cameras another brilliant smile, introducing you with a flourish of his hands. “I’m here with a close personal friend of mine, Y/N L/N. And here we have their tribute, yes? Who might you be, young lady?”

You tried your best to encourage Wovey out of her shyness, going so far as to pat her shoulder and to gently push back the thin strands of hair falling in front of her face. She croaked out her name and her district, and Lucky asked her another myriad of overwhelming questions.

Whilst the crowd around the ever-charming Lucy Gray was watching her with curiosity and awe, the audience you were gathering looked upon Wovey with pity and something mildly akin to empathy.

There were perks to getting the youngest tribute, maybe.

She was telling them about how she liked to climb trees back in district eight. Yes, that’d be useful in the games.

You looked over to see Coriolanus observing you with your tribute. He gave you a nod, perhaps a second too late. The man found himself wondering if he could somehow garner the crowd’s sympathy using Lucy Gray, too. How’d you manage to do that?

Before he could spare another thought on the matter, there was a dim buzzing coming from across the enclosure. A door opened, and four peacekeepers marched in.

“Looks like you’re going to get whisked away, kiddo,” Lucky told you, nodding behind. “Tell your mother I said hello. And make sure to take a nice, long shower before dinner tonight. Don’t want the smell of zoo hovering over my steak.”

You rolled your eyes as Lucky chuckled at his own quips, then looked down at Wovey with a far softer expression.

“I’ll be back. I’ll come back with more for you. Just hold on for me, okay?”

The frail girl nodded. She didn’t seem to want to let go of you, even when the peacekeepers began to semi-forcefully lead you away, out of the enclosure. Coriolanus wasn’t far behind, being manhandled far more aggressively than you were.

The soldiers shoved you out the door and shut it with a heavy click of a lock, before marching off to the sides.

Coriolanus reached out for you, hands resting on your elbows. “How was it?”

“Could’ve gone worse.” You studied his features. There was a faint trace of dirt smudged across his jaw—no doubt acquired somewhere in the truck or when everyone came tumbling out.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer, until you shook your head and broke into a smile, accompanied by a breathy laugh.

“Lucky called you a dashing young man.”

“He’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, and tugged you along to start walking. “Do you think either of us have a chance? At winning?”

The smile melted off your expression, and you grew somber once more. “Well… anything can happen in the arena. We just need to be smart about it. Neither of our tributes are fighters.”

Coriolanus stared off into the distance, brows cinched, heavy with thought.

“They’ll need to be,” he said. “Surviving isn’t enough. Not in these games.”

Your lips parted, wondering what in Panem he could mean by that. Did he really expect Lucy Gray to become a killer overnight? Or was he planning for her to do something else? He didn’t seem to notice your perturbed disposition, and kissed the side of your head.

Just as Coriolanus walked you to your doorstep, you gripped his hands, and your tone suddenly became very serious.

“I just wanted to tell you—before Highbottom announced the mentoring change, I was sure one of us would win the Plinth prize. And, well, I was going to give you the money if it came to me because I definitely wouldn’t need it. But now, since there’s a good chance neither of us are getting it…”

Snow’s features twisted with evident dismay.

You squeezed his hands with yours. “I can get my parents to pay your university tuition, if neither of us get that Plinth prize. Please, Coryo, don’t take this as charity. Take it because I care about you. I don’t want you to get caught up in… winning these games. Whatever you’re planning for Lucy Gray… I can’t see it being anything she’d be willing to do.”

It might’ve been a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw an irksome glint flash across his eyes. He bitterly came to the conclusion that you probably did botch one of your exams for him—not that that mattered now. Besides, it was you offering money, not him begging for it. The placating thought made it easier for his features to slip into a reassuring, easy softness.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” Snow said, cradling your face as if you were a fragile piece of china. Yet his touch felt bruising all the same. “But you shouldn’t worry. I don’t think Lucy Gray is going to win. Not on her own, at least. So I’m going to help her—and Highbottom is going to regret ever trying to make an enemy of me.”

He dipped forward, brushed a whisper of a kiss along your cheek, and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip.

And then he was gone.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst

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pureastrologywisdom · 1 month

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ℌ𝔬𝔴 ℑ 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔶

pt.2 - Capricorn & Sagittarius

Capricorn placements - specifically Ascendant, Moon and Venus

Saturn dominant people - Saturn aspecting the Asc

Aspecting MC can have an influence too

Saturn rules over bone structure so these people can have a prominent bone structure. Often very angular or sharp. There is a subtlety, they often aren’t too flashy or in your face but are very charming. There is a sharpness to their looks. If looks could kill. They can be quite intimidating as there is a seriousness to their face, they can be prone to the ‘resting bitch face’ but then again this is a fact that is commonly used on catwalks across the glob in high fashion. A lot of well known models have prominent Capricorn/ Saturn in their chart. You may find you ‘age into your looks’. These people often age like fine wine, the only get better. Or may find that there is a delay to when they feel beautiful or are perceived as good looking.

Examples

Naomi Campbell - Capricorn ascendant

Megan fox - Capricorn ascendant

Austin Butler - Saturn trine ascendant

Emma Watson - Saturn trine ascendant

Sandra bullok - saturn trine ascendant

Sagittarius placements - Ascendant, Moon and Venus

Jupiter dominant people - Jupiter aspecting the Asc

Aspecting the MC can have an influence too

There is a liveliness and vibrancy to these people. There is something so free flowing about them, a dancing flame. There is something warm and infectious about these people. There is a brightness that radiates from them, an inviting glow. Their bodies are usually well formed as they have this ‘active’ look about them. Sagittarius rules over the thighs, so either really long legs or strong legs can be seen with these placements.

Examples

Dakota Johnson - sagittarius moon

Paris Hilton - sagittarius ascendant

Sebastian Stan - sagittarius ascendant

Princess Diana - sagittarius ascendant

Brad Pitt - Sagittarius ascendant

Sorry for my slow uploads this week I have been ill this week!

More parts for this will be up this week, I hope you guys are enjoying so far :)

#astrology #astro notes #astrology blog #astro observations #astroblr #astro community #natal chart #love astrology #astro tumblr #synastry astrology #capricorn #capricorn rising #saturn aspects #sagittarius #sagittarius rising #ascendant aspects #beauty astrology #beauty in astrology #appearance in astrology

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fmhobeus · 4 months

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morning sex! with nanami! it's all i fucking think about!!!!!!!

(arranged marriage au? slight somnophilia?)

he was usually up before you. like wayyy earlier. he's learnt not to bother you even though you can feel his massive weight be lifted of the bed. you know his routine by now. he goes to the gym early, showers and makes himself a cup of coffee by the time you start cooking breakfast. that's the routine, that's one you're aware of. what you don't know is that he's been watching you sleep... for like... everyday you both have lived together.

and it's !!not!! creepy, of course, you are his wife. it's not creepy, the fact that if he looks at you too long he starts to feel his pants getting tighter, a siege of blood flowing south.

it isn't wrong, when he pulls your covers down from your face. of course he just wants you to breathe easier. it's not lust. just an added bonus that he can now see your pretty lips parted, begging for a kiss and your pretty tits squished by your arms as you lay on your side.

if it's not wrong then why does he... why does he feel this way? this guilt? and why does it make him hornier?

so one of these weekends, as he told himself, he'd try his luck. it was all too unbearable for him at this point. you were fogging up his brain with these lewd images. and worst part was... you were oblivious to the effect you had on him.

it's a sunday. his body wakes up at the usual time. wee hours of the morning. you're by his side this time. it's all up to him now.

he tries to be discreet, at first. try lovey-dovey stuff first, as the internet has told him. you feel him shift in the bed and suddenly your husband's massive arms hug you from behind. the muscles tense as he pulls you to his chest. his heart is pounding. and its barely like 5 am.

"you're sleeping in?"

"yeah, weekend."

"no gym?" you ask. you both sleep face opposite sides, this is one of the few times you've had to adjust your body to his frame. you squiggle as you talk, trying to fit the soft curvature of your body with his flatter, harder frame.

"no.. it's uh... closed for maintenance today." he too has a hard time adjusting to you. to your curves, to your proximity, to how you slept in his arms like a fawn. to how he would conceal his erection to spend time like this with you. too much, too unbearable.

"oh, ok." you smiled. "wake me up if you need anything hm?"

you close your eyes once more. now something else woke you up. nanami's face nuzzled in your neck. his hands, this time, toying with your waist. his bulge apparent. it made sense now. you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

nanami kento is the beautiful man you are married to. gorgeous blonde hair. piercing brown eyes, shaped so angular that it's intimidating. perfect jaw structure. and god... that dick. he was caring and responsible too. how could a man this perfect ever love you? you were convinced he didn't. he always looked stoic, removed, disconnected from you an your relationship. he fucked you with care and gentleness and diabetic sweetness. you couldn't feel him want you. but you'd grown to want him. who the fuck has a one sided crush on their own husband?

but this... this felt different. this felt like all those fantasies were gonna come true. those moments you spent doting on him, creating the nastiest scenarios.

oh god, his soft blonde hair, unkempt and messy in bed. his eyes barely open, his body warm. he smelled like himself and not his expensive cologne. it was all so domestic. all so comfortable. how could you miss this side of nanami?

but you continued to be merry with the domesticity of it all to foresee how your perfect husband was about to perfectly split you open with his perfect dick.

#aniya writes ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა #jjk ^ ~#nanami ♡#nanami 😘😘😘😘😘#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #kento nanami #WIP !!!

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shibaraki · 9 months

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KISS IT BETTER ┊ SHINSOU HITOSHI

tags: GN reader, pro hero shinsou, support engineer reader, brief descriptions of blood + injury, tending to wounds, mutual pining, fluff, idiots to lovers, love confessions

wc: 1.9k

“You know I’m not a doctor, Hitoshi,” your voice is a low murmur yet loud in the cramped space of your bathroom. Just you, his shallow breathing and the steady flow of water in the sink. “I wish you would actually go to a hospital, or someone with a healing quirk”.

Hitoshi shrugs in the reflection and immediately appears to regret it as his face twists in discomfort, the movement jostling his wound. The bullet grazed a vivid arc right across the back of his left shoulder; thankfully not deep enough to require stitches or to damage the layers of skin beneath, but given the awkward to reach area and the blood that had been streaming through his fingers upon arrival you can’t say you blame him for waking you.

“You do it better,” he rasps. The soft hair on the back of your neck stands on end as you sense his eyes on you in the mirror. “You’re gentle. And good with your hands”.

The gauze dabbed around his wound is saturated red, quickly darkening and taking on a brownish hue. Resolutely avoiding his gaze you toss it beside the molehill of stained swabs already on the counter, reaching for a clean one and running it under the cold water. “I’m good with your equipment,” you stress with a huff, willing the heat crawling up your neck to go away. Years of working with delicate machinery keeps your hands steady. “I fix gadgets, Hitoshi. Not people”.

Hitoshi hums. Rather than contemplative he sounds faintly amused at your strong denial, as though he knows something you don’t. “You fix me just fine,” comes his soft reply as you successfully staunch the bleeding. Following the steps that have become routine for you both, he passes back the usual tub from your med kit—used so often now that the label has worn off—and adds nothing further while you cover the wound with a thin layer of petroleum jelly.

“Bandage,” you say, proffering your hand once more. Hitoshi twists his good arm to give you the non-stick dressings. You mumble an apology at the quiet hiss drawn between gritted teeth as you smooth the covered edges around the wound. “And… there. You’re set. That’s as good as you’ll get from me”.

Hitoshi turns in place before you’ve the chance to step away. You find yourself closer than intended. The white luminescence drapes over his shoulders and glints off the silver studs in each earlobe. You don’t know where to look. His ribs expand as he takes a staggered breath and your chests meet; a brief touch of bare skin but enough to make the sound of your heart flood your ears.

You catch how his throat bobs and entertain the thought that he might be equally affected. “Thanks,” he says. The gentle timbre of his voice settles over you like a cold fog of longing.

Neither of you have moved. You do not address the proximity as you study his upper body. There’s old bruising on his hip that looks a bit like an abstract painting but nothing else of immediate concern. He’s lean and angular, tall enough to cast an impressive shadow; neither of you are children anymore.

“You don’t have any other injuries hidden, do you?” you ask, eyes trailing up the column of his throat and lingering on the healed scar tissue cutting through the right of his mouth. It begins beneath his nose, strikes through the dark scruff along his jaw and ends far beneath his jugular, a paint stroke left by a brush with death. The memory is fresh in your mind and guides your hands to cup his chin, thumb tracing the raised skin. You don’t recall ever being that afraid for anyone, and yet he returned to work the day after as though nothing had happened.

At the very least it gives you ample reason to stare at his mouth. You can feel his gaze on you, peering down through half lidded eyes. There’s warm intensity behind them, like he can see through your poorly strung excuse, but if that is the case then he’s allowing it to happen, and you think that reveals just as much.

“It healed perfectly. You don’t need to worry about it,” he murmurs. There’s almost a breathless quality to it that invites goosebumps. And you freeze, as if caught.

“Not worried,” his lips press thin at the sudden cold tone as you turn to gather the used gauze and throw it in the bin beside the sink. “Your funeral not mine”.

Hitoshi moves when you nudge him aside, blood staining the dispenser as you squeeze some soap into your hands and scrub yourself raw under the running tap. The murky red water gurgles down the drain, rivulets streaking higher up the basin and likely to stain. You’re so lost in the sight that you barely register the larger hand coming to cover your own.

“Stop. Let me,” he says, already prying your entwined fists apart to gently massage the soap along each finger. Body heat seeps through your sleep shirt as he loosely wraps around you. You lean into him a fraction and imagine he’s embracing you like a lover while he cleans the dried blood from beneath your nails.

Silence befalls the small space once the water cuts out. Rather than dry your hands Hitoshi keeps them there, encased in his, his thumbs stroking back and forth over your knuckles. He rests his forehead on the curve of your throat and something shifts. The atmosphere, the ephemeral thing between you that you called friendship, the hips that press closer until he’s shaped perfectly to your back.

“I’m sorry,” you hear him say.

Wild violet hair tickles your cheek. It’s shorter than last time. You stare at your conjoined reflection as you overturn your wrists, threading your wet fingers together until your palms kiss. “For what?” you prompt, watching his head lift while you speak. “For constantly breaking your support equipment? For bursting into my apartment after midnight and bleeding all over my carpet again? For scaring me and making me lose sleep? For this—” your eyes meet in the mirror and your mouth becomes dry. “For this less than professional relationship?”

At that the corner of Hitoshi’s mouth lifts in the suggestion of a smile, and suddenly exasperation and fondness is warring over your expression. He clears his throat, almost shy, and he tightens his grip on your fingers. “I guess I’m sorry for all of that, too. But that’s not what I meant”.

“What else is there?” you tilt your head. In a heart stopping move, he turns his nose into your temple.

“I’m sorry I can’t… shit. That I can’t be normal about this kind of thing,” he admits, jaw shifting as he fights the discomfort that so often accompanies being vulnerable. “I always feel like I need some dire excuse otherwise you’ll see right through me”.

“See through you—?” the clamouring in your mind comes to a standstill. Your tongue sits heavy behind your teeth. You spin in his arms, The sink counter digs into your lower back and your hands, mostly dried by the air, come to rest on his bare chest. A mottled blush spreads across his collarbones. “What, you bled on my carpet because you didn’t want me to know you liked me or something?”

Hitoshi grimaces. His eyes rose to the ceiling to avoid your scrutiny and he hesitates to hold your hips. “Sounds stupid when you put it like that,” he huffs.

“Because it is,” you remark, sliding your hands further up and around his ears. Cradling the back of his head you tip him forward and force him to look at you. “You could’ve just brought me coffee at work or something”.

“You’re missing the point,” he mutters, gaze dropping to your lips and away, staring at the space between your eyebrows. “I did it so you wouldn’t know”.

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no way that you’d…” he blinks. His words lose strength as your nose bumps his. You feel a shaky breath leave his lips.

“No way that I’d like you?” as you finish the sentence for him, unsure if he even hears you behind then far off look in his eyes. Emboldened, you pitch your voice lower, quiet enough to cover the short distance between your mouths. You stroke your thumb over the swell of his cheek and say, “You think I patch up every guy that rolls through my bedroom window?”

“Well. There better not be any other guys coming in through your windows,” he rasps, cautiously tipping forward. A playful furrow has etched into his brow. Hitoshi wets his lips, searching your expression for something—perhaps rejection or anything close to it. “I know you’re a good person. You’re good to me. I figured that’s all it was”.

“Right, I’m good to you,” you nod and hear his breathing hitch as your mouths brush. The blush across his chest has spread fingers up his throat to his cheeks, enough reach to stain his ears pink. Hitoshi sways forward. You collide. He kisses you, finally. It is every bit as solemnly sweet and respectful as the hands at your waist.

You can’t help but smile, and feel his smile in turn. There is something so boyish and coy about it; you would never expect it from a man of his status—a man that sees the worst of humanity and spends his nights both evading and preventing death.

“…Oh,” he breathes dumbly as you pull back, his focus caught on the swipe of your tongue.

“Oh,” you repeat to lightheartedly tease, pushing the heel of your hands to his cheeks together until his mouth juts into an ugly pout. Restlessness grips you seeing it paired with his dazed expression, already wanting more than he can give in his current condition.

You release his cheeks and rub them in apology. “You’re done for the night, yeah?”

“Yeah…?” fingers dig in at your soft waist, drawing you impossibly close, as though he were savouring the last of the moment. You smooth over his shoulders, down the curve of his biceps, along thick forearms to take his wrists.

“Good. You’re coming to bed with me,” you tell him. The stupefied look after tucking a kiss to the corner of his mouth will never get old, you’re sure of it. “We’re going to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll help you clean and redress your injury and then,” you press another kiss on his jaw, nuzzling the coarse stubble there, “then you can take me out for breakfast”.

You almost lose your footing. In one swift motion Hitoshi has swung the bathroom door open and begun corralling you through it toward the bedroom. There’s an echo of soft, near drunken laughter as you navigate the darkness, and you realise, belatedly, that it is coming from you.

The strong arms cinched around your middle unraveled to drop you on top of the covers. Reclining into the plush pillows at the head of your bed, you holdout your arms to welcome Hitoshi into honeyed repose. The mattress yields under his weight. Breath held, he crawls over to you—braces over you and sinks onto his forearms.

Seconds pass. Fingers dance across his back, avoiding his bandages. Your grin is concealed by the darkness but it’s clear in your voice. “Hitoshi,” you whisper. “You can breathe now”.

With an exaggerated exhale, Hitoshi sinks into the crook of your body and smooshes his face into the pillow beside your head. “I’ll try not to bleed on your bedsheets,” he says, muffled. Then quieter, when he’s sure you can’t hear it, “I like you”.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader

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shrubberylogistic · 5 months

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Waking Up Fat

Dawn’s warm light filtered through the curtains, and Lily slowly roused from her slumber. With a sleepy stretch, she lifted an arm, then her back, attempting to sit up. Her body pulsed with a clammy heat, fixed and unresponsive.

Lily tilted her head, mouth dry. Her eyes fluttered open to the ceiling. Something felt funny. Groggy and disoriented, she gently nudged an elbow over the pillow, reaching for her phone. Her arms were heavy.

Too heavy.

Something was up. Lily’s heart raced, her senses ratcheting. Something wasn’t right. She craned her neck, trying to rouse her legs. Gravity strengthened its welcome. The bed creaked beneath her, and it took all of Lily’s strength to crunch her palms, pressing, hoisting a shoulder to the headboard.

Her movements were wearsome, stunted - strapped down, somehow. Lily felt through her bedsheets, under and around. Layers of sloth shifted with her soft, cumbersome frame. She thrust the duvet off, looked down, and froze.

Her body had ballooned, languid and overwhelming. Lily stopped breathing. Her belly loomed - an immense mass that flopped half way to her knees. Her legs creased together where her bedtime shorts had burst open; too tiny to contain her new curves, the few pink scraps left faltering around a snapped, sunken waistband.

A panicked gasp left her lips. Lily shuffled free, kicking her sweaty covers, her hips spilling to the edge of the mattress. She stroked chubby, fidgeting fingers over the contours of vast, foreign curves. Summoning every ounce of strength, she swung her colossal legs over the bedside. The floor trembled as she stood, gripped by arousal, stunned by the pressure on her muscles. She wobbled unsteadily for a moment before grabbing the dresser for support.

Gazing at herself in the mirror, Lily whimpered. Her face, once delicate and angular, was now round and bloated, framed by a cascade of unruly hair. Her pyjama tee was a strap of twisted, fraying threads, banded around her heaving chest. Lily clapped a flat palm to her mouth, blushing. Every movement was an effort. Her breathing came in frantic, laboured wheezes.

She was massive. Not an inch had escaped change. Lily rubbed her eyes, balking at her reflection. Her slender cheekbones had gone. Her neckline had vanished. She had gone to bed slender, shapely, poised and assured. Yet clear as the crisp sky that stretched above the neighbourhood, she’d woken up a quaking, panting blob, shorn of most what she’d been wearing. Her hefty chest hunkered as she peeled off her shirt, casting a marvelling glance at her adopted form. A deep relish, a groundedness, filtered through her stretching, timid skin.

Lily giggled. Tensing her toes, she gingerly made her way to the bathroom, her footsteps resonating throughout the house, thudding on the hardwood floor. She bit her lip at the swing of her gut, quivering at the way it gently kneaded her thighs. The scale was a challenge to see beneath her paunch. Steadying herself with a shaking hand on the sink, she quietly stepped on, scanning the display and confirming her thoughts with a gulp.

350.8 pounds.

Disbelief rallied, engulfing her. Lily let out a moan. A turgid heat took the space between her legs, her mind spinning, her heartbeat soaring, her feet tingling. She was lardy, for the first time in her life. She was a whale. She rested her belly on the sink and let it drop, hanging in a long and lazy curve that filled the bowl to the taps.

Lily crossed her throbbing fingers. Her face was a picture of intense, awestruck wonder. She knew there was more to discover. The simple act of showering felt like a Herculean task. Lifting a huge leg into the tub, she spread her stance, struggling to balance while she twisted the tap. Hot water flowed down her bulky form - a comfort she clung to as she dreamed of the big, wide world outside. She dried her body and towelled her hair, squeezing her arms into a gown that clung to her like a second skin.

Downstairs, preparing the most important meal of the day became an ordeal. The staircase was a heart-stopping descent, knuckles white with every crunching, undercalculated step. The kitchen was a maze of limitations. Wide and ungainly, Lily struggled to stretch for the cupboards - too big-bellied to climb up on the counter like she used to. Every step, every task took longer.

She watched helplessly, beholden to urges as the cereal box slipped out her grip, spilling across the floor. Her ass clipped the cutlery drawer, wobbling as she seized on a knife and fork. Fishing four thick slices of bread from the packet, she was in minutes munching woozily through a clutch of syrup strewn pancakes and slices of peanut butter on toast, smacking her lips, perched precariously on the edge of her old kitchen chair.

Lily took a long draw of milk from the bottle, head in her hand. Even the motion of eating felt different. Her stomach gurgled, and she found herself groaning, turgid and stiff. Lily swallowed a burp, doggedly reducing her breakfast to crusts and crumbs, slurping and inhaling. Sucking her fingers, she gave her belly a friendly pat. She was still so hungry. Reaching for the remnants of the cereal in the box, she took a pudgy fistful, then another, and another, cramming them into her mouth in peals of indulgent bliss.

The thought of ordering in struck her like a thunderbolt…

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bengaly · 15 days

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Different layers of a xoy's ornaments. The face is shaved and the fur is trimmed in angular equally leveled cuts. A yellow pigment is used on the face, then red is used to create patterns following the flow of the facial muscles. The horn carvings are painted black and red. Earrings are then added and a neck piece is balanced. The neck piece is tied on the horns, with a heavy long haired knot on the back. This piece is crafted in a way that it resembles wings and the xoy's movement and dance will cause it to move in assymetric ways. The piece relies on the balance and distribuition of different weights to stay in place, which makes it looks like its flying. High res & separate files on patreon Commissions | Patreon | Ko-fi | Other sites

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 7 months

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Helloooooo friend ❤️

For your 500 celebration, I am requesting a non vampire monster fucking fic with any Pedro Boy of your choosing 🙏🏼

(maybe something w tentacles maybe? not required tho whatever you want man love you)

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: Dubcon/noncon, phereomones, tentacles, bondage, mind-fuck, alien sex, alient tentacles, Mind break (if you squint), unprotectred PiV (WRAP IT UP) , anal, DP, sex talk. Let me know if I missed anything!

Taungsdays, am I right?

“Cyar’ika.” A far away voice calls to you but you can’t seem to make it out, the word means something to you. It’s a precious word, but you just don’t remember why.

“Cyar’ika, please. Wake up.” The voice is clearer now, you know it, but it’s weird, not quite right. It’s clearer than you’ve ever heard it, but who? Whose voice is that calling so sweetly to you in the darkness?

Then you hear your name, crystal clear, uninhibited by a modulator, and you squeeze your eyes closed. It’s Din, your Din, your Riduur. But something is wrong, his helmet is off.

“Din?” You try, but your voice comes out in a rasp as you realise how dry your mouth is.

“Praise the Maker, you’re alive.” Din’s unmodulated voice sounds strained, like he’s in pain. You try and move your limbs but you can’t. Panic sets in and you whimper as you keep your eyes shut, you will not breach Din’s creed, not for something as trivial as fear.

Feel for him, feel his energy.

You think to yourself, meditating on the thought, of the essence of your beloved. He’s close, so close, yet there is something else, something writhing in the space between you. You flex your fingers, opening and closing them rhythmically as you try and get some blood flowing through your body. You’re restrained by your ankles and wrists, suspended somehow.

“Din, what’s going on? Where’s your helmet?”

“It was taken, Cyar’ika, look at me.” Din cries out in pain, and the terror that grips your heart forces your eyes open. Your heart catches in your throat as you see him, naked, strung up by maroon vines. They writhe and squirm over his body, coiled around his neck, sliding over his tan skin. You look down to see his cock, erect and weeping as a thick vine slides over his tip, pulling his foreskin back. Din grunts, his beautiful face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and anger.

You feel anguish and hatred deep in your core as you realise you’ve just seen his face for the first time, and dank farrik is he beautiful. The facial hair you had only ever felt in the dark confines of his cot is patchy, but well kept, a strong moustache framing his top lip. His angular nose hooking slightly, and you remember how it feels to have it pressed into your hair as he wraps himself around you.

“Din.” You sob, tears streaming down your face as you meet his sorrowful eyes; deep dark pools of liquid caf, an apology written across them as his grief mirrors your own. This was not how this moment was supposed to play out, you were waiting for the right time. But it’s all wrong, ruined. A precious memory taken from you before it had chance to bloom.

“It’s ok Mesh’la, it’s not your fault.” His tone is soft, none of his usual curt, practiced stoicism. It’s the voice he uses when he makes love to you in the pitch black in his bed. The one for when your bodies wound so tightly it’s hard to know where you stop and he begins.

“What’s happening?” You ask as you look down to see yourself similarly restrained, the thick maroon vines tight around your wrists and ankles. You realise that you were wrong before in your assessment, they aren’t vines, they’re tentacles. They throb occasionally and you feel bile rising in your throat at the idea of being so vulnerable hits you.

“We’ve been ensnared by something, took us both by surprise. It’s been, ah, touching me since I woke a short while ago.”

As if on cue, the tentacles restraining you slither across your skin, hot and wet it almost feels good but you force the intrusive thought out of your mind. A long, bulbous-headed tentacle winds into view and you hear Din shout something but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. The tentacle peels open like a grotesque flower and a puff of silver powder spits into your face.

You splutter as the powder coats your skin, flows through your sinuses and sticks to your windpipe. It’s like being suffocated, the taste of bitter fruit and the smell of Spice drowning you as the tentacle recedes.

“What was that?”

“My guess? An aphrodisiac, they dosed me earlier and I’ve been stiffer than Beskar since.”

“Kriff, what are these things?”

You feel a stir of arousal wash through you and as a pair of tentacles snake up to your breasts, you want to feel disgusted, angry even. But the moment they curl around your stiff, pebbled nipples you cry out in pleasure.

“Din, I’m sorry.” You whimper as the slick, hot, swirling sensation reminds you of Din’s lips. It makes you imagine him on top of you, kneeling between your spread thighs in the dark, worshiping your body with his mouth and hands.

“It’s ok Cyar’ika, I feel it too.” Din’s voice is thick with strain as you watch a pair of tentacles work over Din’s thick length, another rolling over his tight balls. You’re jealous, jealous that it’s not you making him writhe against his restraints.

“Thinking of you, of us.”

“Let’s work through this together, talk to me Cyar’ika, let me know what you’re thinking about.”

“Thinking about how your mouth feels on my breasts, when you take my nipple in your mouth and suck, just right, like that.” You mewl as the tentacle seems to react to your words. It hardens and pinches at your stiff peak and you cry out, mouth agape as you feel slick drip down your legs.

“Yeah? Good, I’m thinking about that smart little mouth of yours, sucking my cock, cradling my balls, fuck, yes,” He groans your name and you whine at the sensation of a tentacle sliding between your legs. The length of it sliding through your slick folds as you twitch at the way it prods at your clit.

“Din, wish I could kiss you.”

“Me too Cyare, me too, just want to feel you, the real you.”

Then something changes in the atmosphere, a vibration ripples through your mind and you feel something sentient brush against your consciousness. You meet Din’s gaze and judging by the look on his face, he felt it too.

“Wait, these tentacles, I’ve seen something like this before.” You think aloud as you try and wrack your brain for information.

Before you can formulate a thought you feel another thrum of energy ripple through the air and the tentacles restraining you loosen and flex, bringing you together before letting go completely. You sob and fall into Din’s strong arms, he pulls you against him with a soft huff. His scent envelops you as your bodies press together desperately.

You feel a tentacle press against the base of your skull before a sharp pinprick of pain on your hairline. Suddenly a consciousness bleeds into your own and you see through the eyes of the creature, watching you and Din embrace, both with tentacles hinged to your spines.

“Din?”

“I’m here, I see it too.”

There’s a feeling ebbing and flowing through your minds, you can hear Din’s thoughts and you feel heat warm your cheeks as you feel like you’re intruding. Then you feel it, his consciousness poking back at yours, asking for entry, and you realise Din must have let you in. Your shame doused, you feel something stir deep in your chest.

You submit to his request and it’s like cold fire burning behind your eyelids, licking at your mind but not burning.

Then you both feel it, the pulsating intent of the creature as it gazes upon you and you think you finally understand what is happening.

“It’s a Marian,” You say without speaking, your thoughts bleeding across the psychic barrier between you, “Sometimes called a Bors.”

“They don’t usually uh, accost people like this though, right?”

“No, this is something strange, and I didn’t think Marian’s existed outside their home world.” Your mind wanders through the soup of three shared minds, wading through the freedom of being joined in such an intimate manner.

“Are you getting the same feeling I am?” Din asks as you absently leave open mouthed kisses against his chest, hands snaking up to dig your nails into the firm muscles of his back.

“It wants to fuck us, but wants us to fuck?”

“Mhm, you want that Cyare? Because I’m happy to go along with it if you are.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice Din.” You huff as Din grinds his hips against you, his hard dick pressed into your stomach.

“No, but I’d much rather this be my choice, our choice, wouldn’t you?” He tilts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. Your chest flutters with emotion as you let yourself gaze upon his face once again. This time there is no tug of shame, no sorrow. There is only joy, euphoria as you watch his cheeks dimple as he smiles down at you.

“Yes, I would, kiss me.” You reach up to cup din’s face with your hands, pulling him down into you as your lips fuse together.

Your mouth opens without prompt as you let him claim your mouth, his tongue hot and heavy as he licks into you. It’s as if you’d never kissed before, every synapse firing at full yolk as you groan into his mouth.

Din hoists you up like you’re featherlight and you wrap your legs around his waist as you thread your fingers through his hair. You tug lightly, causing Din to growl into your open mouth before nipping at your bottom lip. You yelp in pleasure laced with pain as he drops to his knees on the soft jungle floor, laying you down as he settles between your legs.

Tentacles wind around you both and you watch as they latch onto your nipples, curling around the stiff peaks as they pull and tug against them. You watch as a tentacle slides over Din’s body, nestling between his firm, pert ass cheeks. He shudders as the hot, sticky wetness teasing his tight asshole.

“This is new.” He grunts as he lines up at your core as you keep your hands on his face, savouring every moment of his exposed face.

“If you like it, we can try it out ourselves.” You wink at him as you feel a tentacle swirling around your own ass. Din has fucked your ass before so this wasn’t as daunting for you. You feel it breach your hole and you groan as Din follows suit, his cock stretching you out as you let out a strangled moan. You’re so full and you feel Din shake as he tenses up.

“Hey, Din, you’ve gotta relax,” You croon as you pull him down, your foreheads pressed together, you press a soft his to his lips as you rub your thumbs across his cheeks, “Focus on me, let go, fuck me baby, it’s alright.”

“Cyare, I’m sorry I can’t hold back.”

“It’s ok, use me, fill me up and make me scream Din.” You beg, already feeling your mind fogging over with bliss as you’re filled up and a tentacle comes to toy with your clit, the suction blinding as you pull Din down to kiss you as he lets out an animalistic snarl; his teeth clashing with yours as he fucks down into you with a fervour saved for nights where you’re blindfolded and bound to the side of the cargo hold, completely at his mercy.

“I love you Din, love it when you let go like this.” You breathe as you pull away, watching as his pupils dilate, his mouth open and hot breath fanning across your cheeks.

“Kar'taylir darasuum, Cyare.” He grunts as his face drops to your neck, his strong arms pushing your legs up against your chest. His broad palms anchored on the backs of your knees as he fucks deeper inside you. You cry out as the tentacle in your ass matches his pace. His teeth graze your skin before sucking against your sweat-soaked skin.

“Fuck it’s so deep.” Din grunts as his grip tightens on your legs, fucking harder and faster as you watch the tentacle inside him pulse and move in sync with all of your bodies. It’s all consuming, your mind and body unable to parse anything but the feeling of you all entwined.

“Din,” You whimper as your body trembles violently, “Going to come.”

“Come for me Cyare, let me feel you choke my cock.” He grunts, as you feel his hips stuttering as he nears his own release.

The pressure on your clit doubles and you are left mouth agape as your nipples are twisted and lapped at and the tentacle in your ass ripples rhythmically. You lace your hands through Din’s hair once more as you press your forehead to his, your mind going blank as you feel yourself coming hard around Din’s cock.

“Din.” You practically scream as he comes inside your pussy, the tentacle spurts into your ass, and you feel Din shudder as you know his ass is now filled with Mairan come much like your own. Din flops down on top of you, practically crushing you as you wrap yourself around him with all of your limbs.

The tentacles recede into the rainforest around you and the sound of nocturnal birds and insects chorus around you as the ethereal silence is broken.

“Are you ok?” Din breathes into your neck as you both pant heavily.

“Surprisingly, yeah, that was, something else.” You giggle and trace shapes over his bare back.

“That’s one way to put it.” He chuckles into your ear as he nips your lobe tenderly.

That’s when the fatigue hits you, Din falls forwards abruptly, forcing the air out of your lungs but before you can fight back you’re out cold.

----

The sound of the air recyclers wakes you slowly, a familiar, mundane sound that you usually tune out. You jolt upright and assess your surroundings, you’re back on the Gauntlet, in the co-pilot’s chair. You’re fully clothed and you look over to see Din, fully clad in Beskar, seemingly still asleep. You look out of the Transparisteel cockpit to see the rainforest outside, exactly where you had landed before you got ambushed.

Din wakes with a jolt and immediately springs to his feet, drawing his blaster in a swift motion as his visor scours his surroundings before landing firmly on you.

“Din?”

“Cyare?”

You throw yourself against his Beskar breastplate, ignoring the sting of the harsh metal on your skin. Din wraps his arms around you in a crushing embrace but you don’t care. All you care about is that you were together.

“So that wasn’t just a dream then?” Din’s modulated voice is a strange comfort after the events of your tentacle encounter.

“No, are you ok?” You ask, not daring to pull away from Din, you can’t bear being parted for him for even a minute.

“Yeah, was actually pretty liberating,” He chuckles as he rests the chin of his helmet on your head, “What about you?”

“I’m strangely ok, for unintended sexual encounters that was the best of them.”

“And ours isn’t the top of that list?”

“Din, you may have been oblivious to my very obvious advances on you, but I definitely intended to fuck you that night on Corellia.”

“Good point.” Din admits with a hum that rumbles though your chest.

There’s a comfortable silence for some time, the two of you swaying to a silent melody as the light bleeds through the night sky. There’s something unspoken, a deeper connection left as a remnant of the psychic connection with the Mairan which excites you and makes your chest flutter.

“So, that offer, about trying the uh, butt stuff, ourselves, is that still on the table?” Din asks as he lets out a nervous laugh. You lean back, only enough to look up into his visor, pinning his body to yours as you try to discern if he was joking or not.

“I meant what I said.”

“Good, I’ll hold you to that.” Din lets out a soft huff of air as he pulls you back against him. The Beskar is now warm from your body heat and you lean into it.

“But din?”

“Hmm?”

“We need to get some lube.”

He growls affectionately and hoists you over his shoulder before heading towards the crew quarters. You kick and scream with abandon as you feign a struggle against his firm grip.

You smile to yourself as you try and process the bizarre turn of events.

Taungsdays, am I right?

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! @wannab-urs @beefrobeefcal @proxima-writes @beskarandblasters @blackfemalenerd

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tojiswhore-nanamisslut · 3 months

Text

A Short Break

pairing: Nanami x reader (NSFW)

warnings: NSFW, oral (m/f receiving), penetration (p in v), praise (good girl, naughty girl), unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering

synopsis: You're working late with Nanami and you decide you both could use a break.

word count: 3k

a/n: I wrote this in one sitting so it feels kind of rushed but here it is ☠

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

It's another late night at school with Nanami. Neither of you enjoyed overtime, but you both recently finished a particularly difficult mission and now have to fill out the resulting paperwork.

You were also both scheduled to dispatch for another mission in 2 days, so you needed to finish the paperwork and research the curse you were to track down.

The past few hours you've been alternating who does paperwork and who does research, the room mostly silent due to your concentration and the late hour.

Despite the urgency of the task, you can't help but steal glances at Nanami. His blue sleeves were rolled up, revealing his muscular, veiny forearms and his tie was loose. His hair was slightly disheveled from running his hands through it and you couldn't help but think about running your own hands through his hair. How it would feel to have his large, veiny hands on your body as you straddle him and comb his hair with your fingers and look him in the eyes, all desire and need. He had discarded his signature glasses a while ago so you got a rare opportunity to appreciate his brown eyes. It was a shame, really. Nanami was a handsome man already, but his glasses hid his eyes from the world. They were angular and sleek, just like the rest of him. And now they were trained on you, with a slight questioning look.

A blush rose to your cheeks as he caught you staring in the midst of your dirty thoughts.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You looked away, body hot, “Yeah I think I'm just burning out from the non-stop work we've put in and it's kind of warm in here.” It was summer, so it was a believable lie.

“I see. You can take a break if you'd like. Fresh air might help.” He said and went back to looking at the paper he was holding.

You couldn't help the disappointment you felt. You had caught Nanami looking at you on more than one occasion but it never went beyond exchanged glances. You wanted him and you were pretty sure he wanted you too. But how to get him to admit it?

You decided to tease him a bit.

You unbuttoned your shirt a little bit, just enough for some cleavage to show but not enough to be obvious and then you walked over to Nanami. He did a double take as you walked over, hips swaying a little more than they normally do.

“What are you do–”

He was cut off when you leaned over him to open the window, a warm breeze instantly flowing into the room. You stayed like that for a second, closing your eyes and sighing as the breeze moved across your chest and also to give Nanami a few seconds to appreciate how round and plump your ass looked in your skirt and to see the cleavage that was now much more visible due to you being bent over.

When you opened your eyes you saw his were wide and his mouth was partially open, admiring your figure. When you pulled back to stand up he cleared his throat and put his papers on his lap, face red as he looked away from you.

You couldn't help the smirk that painted your face, “Are you okay, Nanami?” repeating the innocent question he asked you earlier.

“Yeah it's just....I think the work and heat are also getting to me.” He still wasn't looking at you and you thought you noticed his legs spread a little wider.

“I see...maybe you should also take a break?” You colored the question with a sultry tone, “here, I can finish the paperwork you're working on.” you bend down, tits directly in his line of sight, to reach for the papers on his lap when he quickly grabs your wrist.

“No, y/n. That's okay. I can finish this. You should go back to the books and see what else you can find about the curse.” He's trying so hard to be a gentleman and not stare directly at your cleavage but you see him steal a couple of glances, his grip tightening on your wrist.

You smile, “Are you sure Nanami? I don't mind helping you.” And your hand lightly travels up his outer thigh as you reach for the papers once more. Before you can grab them or he can further restrain you, a strong breeze blows in, flipping the papers over and blowing some away. It's then that you realize why he was so insistent. He's rock hard.

The bulge in his pants is large. You didn't realize Nanami was so well-endowed. Your pussy immediately pulsed upon seeing it and your mouth watered.

Nanami groaned and threw his head back, hiding his face with his arm and covering his bulge once more with the papers, “I'm sorry y/n. Please forget you saw anything. It's late and I'm tired and–”

You cut him off before he could continue, “I said I don't mind helping you didn't I? And plus,” you got down on your knees as he looked at you with a shocked face, “I think we could both use a break and I can't think of a better way to spend it.”

You were kneeling between his legs as he was seated in his chair, running your hands along his thighs, hungry to taste him in your mouth.

He looked at you for a second before responding, “Are you sure? We don't have to it–”

His words were cut short again by your hands running over his clothed length.

He groaned.

“I'm very very sure Nanami I've been wanting you for a while.”

He looked down at you with those angular brown eyes, “if we're gonna do this then we're gonna do it right.”

At that he picked you up and put you on his lap, so that you were straddling him and looking down into his eyes, just like you were fantasizing about earlier.

He pulled your head to him and kissed you deeply. Tongue licking your bottom lip, asking for entry to explore your mouth, tongue dancing around your own when you opened for him. You kissed each other sloppily, his firm hands kneading the fat of your ass and your fingers brushing through his hair. You couldn't help the moans that came out.

He trailed kisses down your jaw and neck and over your collarbone, traveling further down until he got to the top of your cleavage.

“Did you unbutton your shirt earlier?” He asked.

You giggled, “Yeah. I was hoping you would notice when I walked over to open the window.”

He gave a breathy laugh, “Naughty girl.” And he ripped the rest of the buttons off your shirt, making you gasp as he planted kisses over your breasts and taking your bra off at the same time until your nipples were exposed.

“So beautiful. Just like I imagined.” He massages one with his hand while he put the other in his mouth and twirled his tongue around it.

You gave a breathy sigh as you watched his strong hand play with your breast and his mouth lick circles around your nipple, “like you imagined?” You asked.

He detached himself from your nipple with a pop and moved to the other one, “of course. I've imagined doing this to you plenty of times.”

You knew it.

Your vindication was short-lived as he started grinding you onto his erection. The sudden simulation to your clit sending a jolt of pleasure to your core and causing you to moan.

“Mm your moans are so sweet to hear. I want more.” And he lifts you up, placing you on the table a few feet away. He bends over you to kiss you more. His lips are intoxicating. He moves them so expertly against you, the pulse in your pussy is going faster now and you desperately want some kind of stimulation.

As if Nanami can sense what you need, he starts pulling your skirt and leggings down, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He sees the wet spot and palms himself through his pants, “fuck you're so wet already.”

You don't even have time to respond before he kisses you over your panties, drawing out more moans, “mmm Nanami that feels good.”

“yeah? I can make it feel even better.”

And at that he slips your panties to the side and starts sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in you. His fingers stretch you so deliciously, and the way he moves his tongue in circles on your clit had you moaning even louder, hands squeezing your own tits for more stimulation.

He curled his fingers and hit that sweet spot inside of you, moving them in time with his tongue on your clit and you could feel the pleasure building in you. You started to run your fingers through his hair, holding him to you as you rocked against his tongue.

The sounds of him sucking on your clit filled the room, he was eating you out so eagerly, like he hasn't eaten in days. The ministrations of his fingers inside of you had you clenching your thighs around his head.

“Oh Nanami fuck fuck I'm close oh shit.” you whined.

He continued his pace, palming himself through his pants to relieve some of the pressure. He was so hard it hurt but he wasn't the type to get off before a woman, especially not the first time.

“Cum on my fingers y/n and then I'll give you something bigger.” He moaned into your clit as you began bucking your hips and clenching around his fingers. You couldn't help the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth as you came. It was like a rope snapped in your abdomen and pleasure flooded your veins, feeling the rush and release as juices dripped out of you and covered Nanami’s hand. When he was satisfied you were done he took his fingers out of you and popped them in his mouth, tasting you, “you taste so fucking good y/n.” He was still palming his dick through his pants but it wasn't enough. Seeing you so overcome from your orgasm was making his dick twitch, he could feel the wet spot from his precum sticking to his thigh. He needed you. Now.

“Are you ready for something bigger?” He bent over and looked you in the eyes, his pupils blown so wide you could barely see the beautiful brown that normally outlined them.

“Yes please Nanami. I want you.” You said breathlessly.

“Good girl.” And he undid his belt and zipper to let his cock out. You sat up to look at it, god it was beautiful. Veiny with a slight curve upwards. You decided you needed him in your mouth first.

“Wait let me taste you. Please” you look at him, a hunger in your eyes.

He looked at you and hesitated but eventually gave in, “Go ahead.”

You smile and get on your knees in front of him, once again marveling at his girth and length before you drag your tongue from the base all the way to his tip, making him groan.

You plant light kisses around the top before finally taking him into your mouth, he tastes divine, slightly salty from the precum that had been leaking out of him.

“Ah fuck your pretty little mouth feels so good.” And he tangles his hands in your hair.

You begin to move your head, bobbing back and forth on his dick and swirling your tongue around his tip. His moans above you spur you on, ignoring the way his dick hits the back of your throat and stretches your lips. You moaned on his cock thinking about what it would feel like inside of you.

Before you could do more though he pulled out of you and you looked up.

“I need to fuck you. Now.”

The growl in Nanami’s voice, the authority with which he gave you that command had you up on your feet immediately.

He wasted no time turning you around and bending you over the desk, “spread your legs.” He ordered.

You complied, and with one hand he guided his dick to your folds, rubbing the tip around your slick entrance.

“And you're sure you want this?” He asked.

“God Nanami if you don't fuck me right now I swe–”

Now it was your turn to be cut off with the hard thrust he gave to bottom out in you. Your sentence devolved into a scream of pleasure. The slight pain of him stretching you was eclipsed by the absolute pleasure of how full you felt and from him immediately hitting that spot inside you that had you cumming earlier.

He stayed still for a second to let you adjust.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned.

“Mm. I'm gonna start moving now.” And he slowly rocked his hips in and out, as it got easier he picked up his speed.

“Fuck your pussy feels fucking amazing.” He groaned.

“God yes this feels so good.” You moaned back.

He was fucking you in long thrusts, using his hips to angle himself every time he bottomed out to hit that spot that made you moan loudly.

You could hear his balls slapping against you with each thrust combined with the squelching sound of your pussy. God it felt so fucking good you'd been dreaming about this. About having him. So many nights you wondered what his cock would feel like in you and now you're getting fucked better than you ever have in your life.

Nanami’s thrusts started getting harder and you moaned, “Oh fuck Nanami you're so deep it feels so fucking good.”

He groans in response, “Yeah you're taking me so well. So well.”

He wraps an arm around your hips and leans over, pushing a palm to the middle of your back to arch you even more. At this angle he's fucking right into your sweet spot.

You yell out his name, “Nanami!! Na-na- oh fuck I'm gonn–I’m gonna cum fuck.” Your legs start shaking as he fucks you faster, clearly close to his own climax.

“Oh fuck. Yes. Cum for me y/n.” He grunts out. Trying to keep his own orgasm at bay.

You reach down and start rubbing your clit and it quickly leads to your undoing.

After a few more thrusts you're climaxing. Wave after wave of pleasure rolling through your body and you can't help the pornographic noises you're making. You're clenching and milking his dick as he works you through your orgasm. His name tumbling out of your mouth as your body is wracked and you see stars. He continues fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it and keeping you moaning but his hips start to stutter.

“Ah fuck y/n I'm going to cum. In or out?” Nanami's breath is heavy and fast, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tries his best to wait for your answer.

You're still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm but in your dazed state you tell him to cum inside you.

“Oh fuck that's a good girl.” And with a few more sporadic thrusts you feel Nanami tense behind you, his grip on your hips tightening as he shoots his load directly into you, a mix of both of your orgasms threatening to leak out of you.

You both stay like that for a second. Nanami's arm around you is the only thing keeping you up right now otherwise you'd surely keel over. Once he's caught his breath he slowly pulls out, the smell of sex and sweat is thick in the air.

Your head is still laying on the table, drool running from your mouth. You've never been this fucked out in your life.

“Y/n, are you okay?” He asks gently.

You can't help but giggle. That question is what got you into this situation.

You hum, “yeah I'm fucking fantastic actually.”

He laughs. “Here.” And he gently pulls you both back into the chair so you're sitting on his lap, head against his chest.

His face is flushed and sweaty and his hair is a mess. You're sure you look no better. It's the first time you've ever seen Nanami look disheveled, he's always so formal and put together. It's a nice side of him to see.

He once again catches you looking at him, “you sure you're okay?” He asks again.

You laugh, “yes I'm fine. I was just thinking it's nice to see this side of you. You don't usually let your hair down very much.” To emphasize your point you run your hands through his hair.

He's quiet for a second, “Yeah. I mean being a jujutsu sorcerer is a job and I treat it as such.”

“Mm. I suppose. But it is nice to see you without your glasses on. You should take them off more often.”

He gives you a quizzical look, “My glasses? Why?”

“You have pretty eyes. It's nice to see them.” You state matter of factly.

All you hear him say is a quiet, oh but the blush that rises to his cheeks doesn't escape you.

“Well,” you sigh and make to get off his lap, “break time is over, we should get back to work. I know how much you hate working overtime so the sooner we finish the better.”

You're putting your close back on and Nanami gets off the chair.

“We should get back to work but, I don't mind working overtime if it's with you.”

At his words you look at him, and his brown eyes are gazing at you fondly.

“Oh.” You couldn't help the blush that painted your cheeks even though you just got fucked senseless by this man.

“Maybe tomorrow if we finish up early, we could go to dinner.” He suggested.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” You smile at him.

“Good. And even if we don't finish early we could still take a...break to have dinner.” and you can sense the double meaning in his words.

“Ooh I would like that very much Mr. Nanami.” And you grab his tie to pull him in for a kiss before walking back over to your work, swaying your hips just a little more than usual.

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decayedgloria · 8 months

Text

jailhouse rock

ft. Wriothesley

You land behind the bars of the Fortress of Meropide once again, and Wriothesley isn’t too keen on letting you off the hook this time.

Tags: Wriothesley x afab!reader, fwb-ish relationship, inspired by The Sin by Henreich Lassow, might be ooc/not canon, hate sex?, rough sex, oral m!receiving, degradation, copious amounts of swearing from Wriothesley, nsfw under cut, mdni

Word count: ~1.8k words, not really proofread lmao

One might call you stupid. Others might call you opportunistic. But as you sat in a dark, damp cell in the infamous Fortress of Meropide, you couldn’t help but grin.

You were a repeat offender. Petty theft, fraud, and money laundering were your specialties- roaming the streets of Fontaine having every intention of being an inconvenience to everyone who crosses paths with you. You’ve landed in prison on numerous occasions, with the Gardes already being on a first-name basis with you given how frequently you seemed to be thrown there.

But those weren’t the ones you came for. No, the prize you were after was much, much sweeter. You perk up as you hear the familiar heavy footsteps trudging closer to your cell, adrenaline and excitement flowing through your veins. The clanging of the metal doors opening and closing occupied the otherwise empty cell block as he neared, only stopping once he was directly in front of you.

Tall, looming, and dangerous- Wriothesley’s sharp eyes bore down on your hunched figure like a hawk examining its prey. You share his stare in response, a cheeky grin replacing your grimace at the sight of the man. Something inside you stirred- and it desperately needed to be quelled by him.

“Hello, Duke.” The nickname rolled off your tongue smoothly, a hint of mischief in your honeyed words. Wriothesley narrowed his eyes, brows furrowed as he huffed deeply.

“Don’t you get tired of this?” He draws closer to you, his large figure mere inches away from your smaller one with only the cell bars keeping him from coming closer. The moonlight seeped through a small window, illuminating his domineering figure and angular features. All you could do was smile, standing up and sauntering towards him.

“Not if it means seeing you…” Your eyes trail from his face to his chest, appreciating how his suit made his body look without his fur coat. Arousal stirred in your lower abdomen as he brought a firm hand to your jaw, forcing you to look at him once more. “Oh? And what now, my dear Wriothesley?”

“You’re such a fucking whore.”

Bringing you in between the gaps of the bars, he leaned in and began kissing you roughly- which you returned in earnest. His large hand was still on your jaw, while his other hastily unbuttoned your shirt, squeezing your mounds as you moaned into his lips. Your own hands made their way to his tie, easily tugging it off like you had countless times before.

You and Wriothesley’s relationship- if it could even be called that, at this point- was a complicated notion. On one hand, you were on drastically different sides of society; you, a feeble criminal, and him, the one who is responsible for punishing said criminals. Yet, no matter how much he tried to keep you as far away as possible, both of you always seemed to land in the same predicament.

Wriothesley dragged his teeth down your jawline, making its way to your neck and latching on your skin, leaving dark bruises where his lips were. Moans and groans bounced off the stone walls as you writhed against him, your cunt growing ever so needy with the way he practically manhandled you through the bars. Your clothes had long been discarded, and the last of his were finally thrown on the floor.

“This isn’t very responsible of you, Duke.” Your voice, despite its teasing tone, was breathy and weak. Wriothesley looked to you once again, uttering a tsk sound before shoving you down on your knees, rather easily, and had you face to face with his hard, angry cock. Licking your lips, you began languidly stroking him, almost instinctively as your eyes scanned his face, stricken with passion and lust.

Wriothesley’s half-lidded eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as your mouth enveloped him, a guttural groan escaping his throat. His hands gripped your hair tightly as you bobbed up and down, making sure to swirl your tongue on his tip as he practically facefucks you. You only grinned as he continued, sighing and growling while he used your head like a toy for his own pleasure. The thought of him being so rough and uncaring for you excited you more than you’d like to admit, feeling your panties getting wetter by the second as you took him in your mouth over and over again.

“You couldn’t get enough of my cock?” He said through gritted teeth, gazing down on you pleasuring him through the bars. “Fuck- you couldn’t last one week without my dick being shoved- shit, down your fucking throat?”

In response, you only took him in deeper, letting the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat in one long, agonizing motion. To this he cursed, moaning your name as his hands tried moving your head to bury himself deeper. His cock, girthy and long, almost didn't fit in your mouth- but it would be nothing compared to how it would stretch your pussy when he fucks you.

You pick up your pace as you slobber on his cock, matching the rhythm of his arms as he nears his release. Your eyes gaze up at the man standing over you, panting and moaning your name as if he were the whore that he always called you. Drinking in the rare sight of the Lord of Meropide coming undone by you, a criminal of all people- it turned you on in more ways that you could imagine.

By the trembling of his thighs and the careless groans coming from him, you could tell he was nearing his high. Just to tease him once more (and to make your inevitable punishment sweeter) you pulled yourself away from his grasp, slipping his cock out of your mouth as you grin up at him innocently. Wriothesley gasped at the sensation, eyes snapping open to look back at you, brows furrowed in frustration.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Can't have you cum right now, Duke. We're not even at the best part." Your wicked grin only served to aggravate him further, gloved hands yanking you up to your feet and connecting your lips once more, roughly shedding what clothing you had on left, fingers grasping and kneading at any flesh he could. A bruising grip found its way on to your hips as he spun you around, catching you off-guard.

"What are you-" Your resolve faltered when you found your bare ass rubbing against his slick cock. "Wriothesley-"

His large hand lands on the small of your back, pushing your upper body down to bend over so your cunt was easier for him to access. Not a second later, the same hand comes down hard on your ass, eliciting a delicious mewl from your lips as you get wetter and wetter.

His fingers ran up and down your already sopping cunt, making sure you were prepared to take him before suddenly plowing his hard cock into you. "The least you can do is take my cock, slut." he scoffed, deep voice filled with arousal as he stretched your hole open.

You moaned and whined at the sudden intrusion, arching your back as you threw your head back in pleasure. Your hands braced themselves on the bars behind you as Wriothesley began his slow, but deep thrusts in and out of you, hands firmly gripping your hips as he does so.

The rattling of the bars as Wriothesley pounds into you and your sinful noises were the only sounds in the otherwise silent cell block. His pace was becoming ruthless, rutting into you as if his life depended on it while his hands landed smack after smack on your plush ass.

"Your pussy belongs to me-" He pants, "Fuck- you're so fucking tight…" Another slap across your cheeks, "Take it, whore. Let the entire prison know who you belong to."

"Wriothesley-!" You were reduced to a blubbering mess, singing praises of him and his cock as your mind was consumed by endless pleasure from the way he drilled himself into your pussy repeatedly. "Your cock's s'big! Ah, fuck! More, more please more!" You could hear him chuckle at how pathetic you sounded.

"Yeah? Getting enough of this cock?" He grunts, well aware that the sounds coming out of your mouth were nothing more than slurred words as you helplessly writhe, body twisting and contorting in pleasure. He brings another hand to your ass, forcing you to reply to him.

"Y-yes! Oh yes- m'god yes!" You managed to whine out, voice shaking with each thrust. "Cock's so good- ngh, yes! 'Thesley-" Wriothesley's pace had become more and more erratic, breathing ragged and muscles tensing as he finally reached his high, spilling his cum inside your cunt as you shudder trying to chase your own.

The glow of the moonlight had now occupied much of the cell block, shedding light on just how much of a mess Wriothesley made of you as he pulled himself out of your stuffed cunt. Your shaky legs gave out, nearly collapsing until Wriothesley held your waist to gently pull you up; a stark contrast to how his touch was moments before.

Trying to catch your breath, you try your best to turn to face him, ready to tease the officer- but to your surprise he was already dressed, merely fixing his sweat-beaded forehead while he turned to look at you. You grimaced, a part of you wanting to spend some more time with the ever-so elusive man.

"It's best you get dressed." Wriothesley stated, casting a brief glance at your naked form. "I don't want anyone to see you like this tomorrow."

"Jealous?" You grin, trying to dress yourself with trembling arms. He focused his gaze on you once more, before sighing and reaching a hand through the bars to fix your hair. An unfamiliar gesture, one that had you stopping your actions to look at the tall man.

"The next time you want to see me, be a normal person and ask me on a date or something." Giving your cheek a gentle caress with his thumb, he gives you a small smile before finally walking away, tall strides echoing throughout the empty block once more.

You sit there and ponder the suggestion a little. Yes, that was always an option, but… isn't playing cop and thief much more fun?

im gonna be totally honest i lost interest in this fic like halfway through lowk and like begrudgingly finished it for yall

just started school so i might not upload as much, still trying tho

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #afab reader

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indieyuugure · 8 months

Note

Your comic series is the first Rottmnt comic Iv ever read! It was an amazing first impression to the Rottmnt fandom! Could you teach me how to draw the turtle boys ( rise turtles)?

Also love the new update!

Aw! I’m so glad my comic made on good impression on you! ^v^

Of course! I’d love to help you!

So first thing’s first, here’s the boys the best I can draw them. The most important thing when learning to draw new characters is identifying what makes them look like them. We’ll start with the faces since that’s, in most cases, the point of focus.

Leo’s face is a pretty tall and vaguely pentagonal. His face is also very angular, the corners of his cheeks and top of his head are very sharp. Leo has the traditional style mask with tails that drop down to about his waist.

Donnie has that smart boi forehead and majestic eyebrows. His forehead often has a soft curve to it while, similarly to Leo, his cheeks and jaw use sharp angles. Remember too that the top of his head is flat, there’s no curve. His mask is that newer pirate style that wraps over the top of his head, with the tails looking like curvy squares.

Mikey’s face is a combination of a rounded square and a circle. The top of his head, while much rounder than Donnie’s, is somewhat square. The bottom of his face is a curve. Sometimes I draw the curve in line segments, but it’s not a requirement and won’t impact the way he looks. In general though, Mikey has a very circular face. His mask is the traditional TMNT style with the rounded bouncing tails on the back.

Raph is arguably the hardest to get right for some odd reason. Really though Raph’s face is just a shorter version of Leo’s face with slightly more exaggerated angles. His face is like a fat pentagon. Also tip: Raph’s eyes are always just a little smaller then you think they’re going to be. Trace some scenes from the ROTTMNT movie, you’ll see what I mean. Raph’s mask is the same style as Donnie’s where it covers the whole top of his head. There’s a small nick on the edge above his right cheek and the tails are tattered.

Okay, next are their markings! They play a lot in how easily identifiable they are.

I figured these diagrams should help as a little map as to what spots go where.

Alright, now we’ll look at their shells. There are many amazing diagrams and explanations for drawing their shells on Pinterest I’ve found, but I’ll sum it up here as best I can.

Leo’s shell is very sleek in design making his is profile look the thinnest of his brothers. Many people describe his general body shape as being an inverted triangle.

Donnie’s shell is very straight with hardly any curves. I didn’t include his battle shell in this since that qualifies as “gear” in my opinion, so you get to see what Donnie’s shell looks like! You’ll notice that the sides of his shell are very wide, which I’m guessing is because the curve of his carapace is so shallow.

Mikey’s shell is very similar to Leo’s but is a lot thicker and boxier(haha get it? Cause he’s like, a Box Turtle? :D I’m so lame…). He’s also much rounder and the distance between his plastron and carapace is pretty big.

Raph’s shell is probably the most complex of the boys because of all the spikes. Good things to keep in mind are that the spikes on the top of his plastron angle out, and spikes on his carapace flow up. In general think of Raph as a pentagon, he’s got big broad shoulders and arms and almost comically short legs. (And yes, I’m aware that I didn’t include the side of his shell here, it was too big to fit on the diagram. But just to give you an idea of where it should be, around the “w” in “flow” is where it should connect to his carapace.

Okay! So now that we’ve covered what the boys look like, let’s apply it to their bodies!

Here’s a quick sketch of Leo. “Oh, but Indie” I hear people say, “I can only draw basic shapes and stick figures!” Well to that I say good because that’s what I’m doing too!

For drawing action, it’s crucial to capture the energy of the character. And in a style like Rise’s energy is an iconic trait. So I’ve re-invented this “shape method” to actually be useful. The number one thing is that these shapes are loose guides as to the positioning of the body. Don’t think of these shapes as “well chests are like cubes and arms are like rectangles.” These shapes are place holders. I could replace those circles with stars and it wouldn’t change anything. I just use circles because they’re faster to scribble and stand out against the hard angles of everything else.

Here’s a picture of the shapes overlayed on the image, as you see, these shapes are guides to help comprehend a complex angle in 3D space. Sadly I don’t have much I can assist with on proportions, since I learned purely by studying total uncreepily real life people and myself (I swear I’m posing in the mirror for purely educational reasons! Okay!?).

But anyway, for this kind of thing, practice is the only remedy. Just draw action pose after action pose. Trace scenes from ROTTMNT and the movie to teach your eye to see what things should look like and to train your brain to recognize patterns of shapes and angles.

I hope you found this at all helpful. I’m not really sure how great of a teacher I am but people keep asking questions like these so I guess I’m okay. Glad you liked ROTP so much and I’m glad it made such a good impression on you! ^v^

Good question! :]

And of course if you have more questions, feel free to ask. Here are some previous asks about drawing I’ve gotten that you might also find interesting:

Tricks for Drawing Extra Expressive Faces

More Tricks for Drawing Expressions

Tips and Tricks to Drawing Non-Graphic Wounds

Basic Guide and Tips for Drawing the 2012 and Rise Turtles

How to Draw 2012 Raph’s Fire Ninpo

Nailing The 2012 TMNT Style in 2D

Important Concepts in Drawing Female Characters

#q&a #tmnt #ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #art #art tips #drawing #drawing tips #drawing stuff #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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potato-lord-but-not · 3 months

Note

hi hi hi hi i absolutely love your art and i love how everything is just so JAJXJEJFJSJ, so you have any tips on how to make an art piece more skrunkly??

very sharp angular lineart n shapes but mixed with flowing soft shapes also. Like angular hands and face and body shape but soft hair and clothing and round eyes. or vice versa give em a round body and hands and sharp hair and hard facial features. For sketches pencil texture is everything, don’t do much shading just “color in” the sketch in grey scale based on character colors. Also extra lines on face and skin to give more texture and interest. Idk idk here’s some pics

I never know how to actually give good art advice so please. be nice to me

#ALSO just go crazy yk don’t worry about making pretty lines just as long as they’re legible and convey their purpose #have fun girlies that’s the most important part #ask

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marauderverse · 4 months

Text

Maybe it was then//J.P x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: He wasn’t sure when it had started. But sometime between then and now, he had fallen for y/n.

A/n: I am posting this from my phone so sorry if the formatting is weird.

He wasn't sure when it had started.

Probably somewhere between the charms classes he had shared with her since first year and the Gryffindor party, she had somehow snuck into.

Somewhere between then and now, James Potter fell for y/n.

She stood on the other side of the common room, dancing with Lily Evans to Dancing Queen, which Mary had all but threatened Sirius’ life to let her play.

An odd warmth crept up Jame’s neck as he watched her.

The long sleeves of her shirt flowed like water down her arms as she spun lily around; he felt like a creep looking at the knot in the centre of her chest where the two halves of the shirt met. The pattern of her skirt matched that of her top; a belt with a daisy belt buckle sat at her waist. The outfit was finished with white boots that sat just below her knees.

She looked hot.

Her hair was out, something he had only seen her with probably three times in the seven years he had known her.

“What are you staring at?”

James jumped, prying his eyes away from the girls grinning face to look at Sirius.

Sirius moved forward slightly to put his face beside James, looking over in the same direction.

“Evans?” The boy questioned, downing the rest of the drink he had in his hand, “I thought you got over her?”

James sighed slightly, sipping his lukewarm drink.

“I wasn’t staring at Evans; I am over her,”

Sirius looked at his friend, a look of annoyance and confusion set of his angular features. His grey eyes flittered back to the group of girls.

It took him a few seconds of staring before he realised.

“Y/N!” he yelled.

James scrambled to turn his attention away from the girls to his friend, slapping a hand up to his mouth to shush him.

“Shut up,” He whispered-yelled.

“Y/n?” Sirius whispered back this time.

James rolled his eyes; it was obvious his friend was drunk, and perhaps spilling his secrets to him at a Gryffindor Quidditch party wasn’t his brightest idea.

“When did this happen?” Sirius asked.

That was a great question.

When did it start?

It could be in the third year when she had made reserve beater of the Ravenclaw team.

The sun was high in the sky as the captains shook hands in the middle of the pitch.

With a shrill blow of her whistle, the teams mounted their brooms and kicked off.

The game was in full swing within minutes; the crowd cheered and booed as the Gryffindor team scored three goals in the first ten minutes.

Things got better from there.

The Ravenclaw team was wholly unprepared for this match.

An hour in, Gryffindor was ahead by sixty points and the beater had fallen from his broom and they had to use their reserve player.

Y/n.

As soon as she entered the pitch, so did an entirely new team.

Gryffindor couldn’t seem to keep the quaffle; as soon as it so much as grazed the fingertips of a Gryffindor team member, a bludger was already on its way.

And it seemed the Ravenclaw players repelled the bludgers; as soon as one was sent toward a Ravenclaw, it was immediately redirected.

She was fantastic.

Even though Gryffindor caught the snitch, Ravenclaw won the match by a landslide.

Needless to say, she was a permanent part of the team from that point on.

Maybe it was then.

Or maybe he had fallen for her last year when she and Lily became best friends.

It seemed she had made a home in the Gryffindor tower.

Anytime he would enter, she would be lounging on one of the squishy sofas, toasting something over the fire or sitting in the corner pouring over some essay that hurt James' head to look at.

Perhaps it was the proximity that sparked it, the way she would smile shyly when he accidentally caught her eye, or how she seemed to get along with all his friends so easily.

Maybe it was then.

Or maybe it was earlier today when Ravenclaw lost the Quidditch cup to Gryffindor.

He knew how hard she pushed her team for this game. He had seen the Ravenclaw’s schedule for the quidditch pitch and caught a glimpse of the plays she spent hours on in the library.

She had been devastated, throwing her broom down in defeat as the Gryffindor seeker was hoisted up on the team's shoulders after the game.

He watched as she returned to the changing room, far ahead of her team.

If it hadn’t been Gryffindor they were playing, maybe James would have felt bad for her. Maybe he would feel bad tomorrow morning after the euphoria of the win and the excitement from the Gryffindors died down, maybe he would feel bad.

She caught him on his way up to the castle, now changed out of her quidditch robes and impeccably polished broom over her shoulder.

“Hey, James,” He stopped, turning around to look at her.

He saw Lily, Mary and Marlene a few steps behind her, Marlene still in her quidditch robes. There were amused looks on the girl's faces, an almost mischievous look.

“Uh, you guys did well out there today,”

The girls were giggling that high-pitched giggle they do.

“Uh, thanks, you did great as well,”

She smiled, turning on her heel quickly and running back to her friends.

They were giggling like maniacs and whispering to one another.

“Sometime between third year and now,” James admitted.

“Wow, so this is like. Super serious,” Sirius said before pausing, “Super Sirius,” He said, laughing at his stupid joke.

There was a pause between them.

“You should ask her out,” Sirius said as if this was some kind of life-changing advice he had just offered his best friend.

James rolled his eyes, finishing the last little bit of his drink.

“I would, but I just don't think she’s into me,” He confessed.

“C’mon Jamie, you’re a total catch; what naked do you think she's not into you?”

James Cringed at the nickname that seemed only to come out when his friends wanted to get on his nerves or when they were drunk.

James thought back on the last few years.

The time he had attempted to be charms partners with her, only for Y/n to barely contribute to the conversation and simply write her thoughts down instead of talking to him.

Or the time she had traded seats with Mary so they wouldn’t be beside each other in transfiguration.

Or the time he had attempted to talk to her after one of Ravenclaws quidditch practice sessions, and she had slipped out the back of the changing rooms to avoid him.

James shook his head.

He didn’t know why, what he had done, or what she had heard.

But James Potter knew that Y/n L/n didn’t like him.

“She just doesn’t like me the way I like her,” He brushed Sirius off, tuning to the refreshments table to pour himself another cup of mystery liquid.

Sirius scoffed.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,”

James paused, turning to look at his friend.

“What does that mean?” James prodded.

Sirius shook his head, his long black hair bouncing around as he did so.

“No can do; I’ve been sworn to secrecy by Evans,”

“You heard something from Lily?”

Sirius took a shot of fire whiskey from the table, his face screwing up slightly as the liquid burned all the way down.

“Yeah we were talking the other day about her massive crush on you,” He stated.

“Lily has a crush on me?” James asked.

Sirius shook his head again.

“No, Y/N's massive crush on you. But I promised Evans I wouldn’t tell you,” He explained, taking yet another shot of alcohol “Apparently, she’s super shy and awkward about this stuff and doesn’t want us making fun of her or something.”

James was gobsmacked.

This whole time.

This whole time she’s liked him back, and it took a drunk Sirius to tell him.

“So if I go ask her out now, she’s not gonna yell at me?”

Sirius laughed loudly.

“Mate, from what Evans told me,” Sirius began, lowering his voice slightly, “all you would have to do is say please, and she’d be under you in a second.”

James felt a flush at the comment.

“Shouldn’t you be annoying moony or something?” James asked, attempting to turn his friend's attention away.

Sirius lit up, a grin forming on his face.

“Oh yeah, I haven’t seen him in fifteen minutes; he's probably worried,”

James watched as his friend bounced away.

He downed the liquor in his cup before going over to the group of girls.

Mary was the first to see him coming and nudged Lily, who whispered to Marlene, who then told Dorcas, who told Y/n.

She turned, a wide grin on her face.

“Hey ladies,” he said, using all hos will power to keep his confident persona on, “Mind if i steal Y/n for a moment?’

The girls giggled, sending /n knowing looks. Marlene, before she left, stopped to whisper something in Y/ns ear.

James couldn’t hear what it was, but by the scandalised expression on her face, the way she hit her arm, and Marlenes grin, he could guess what it was about.

James turned to Y/n, her face was already red and she was avoiding eye contact.

“So, Sirius said he was talking to Lily the other day,”

Y/n blushed deeper, if that was even possible.

“Oh god,” She moaned, covering her reddened face with her hands and giggling awkwardly, “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing bad,” He hurried to say, “Well, I guess it depends on your definition of bad,” he was losing his grip.

She hadn’t moved her hands away from her face yet.

“Do you want to go on a date?” He asked quickly.

She finally dropped her hands and looked at him.

“Right now?” she asked, confusion evident on her features.

“Yeah, why not?”

James reached forward and pulled her hand into his own, leading her out of the common room.

The girls whooped and cheered as they walked past.

“Where are we going?” She asked, coming to walk in stride with him, their hands still connected.

“Just trust me,”

#james potter #james Potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction

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