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euphemiaamillais · 1 year ago

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money, power, glory - coriolanus snow

on the night of your victory party, president snow decides that he wants a little more than a kiss from his victor—after all, don’t you ought to show your president just how patriotic you are?

cw: 18+//dub-con//age gap (reader is 18+)//abuse of power//mentions of exploitation//objectification//blowjobs//piv sex//coercion//loss of virginity//creampie//district 7 victor!reader and president!coryo

the party is all for you; the gaud and festivity, the fountains of alcohol, the ridiculously clad guests. you won, they tell you—but it’s a reminder of the children you killed as you fought tooth and claw in that arena. it feels wrong, to be put on display like this when twenty-three children lay dead in their districts. the celebration of murder—it’s as if you’re the prize animal at the circus.

you had been primped and preened by your stylist drusilla all afternoon, gritting your teeth as every part of your body was plucked and waxed, as she pulled your hair back into some elaborate hairstyle, the pins now digging into your scalp. that pain—the dull ache of it—ironically served as a reminder of the pain you had to endure in the games. you only survived because you slit the throat of that boy from two, watching the blood trickle out of his neck as you practically limped away.

you’d since been repaired, though many a time you felt that familiar ache in your ankle—the one that had been broken—and supposed it was punishment for the cruelty of your actions. but put twenty-four helpless children in an arena and ask them to fight to the death, and you learn that the ‘inherent goodness�� in human beings is nothing but a thin veil maintained by law and order.

‘enjoying the show?’ you hear the familiar, cut-glass voice of drusilla, who’s currently festooned in a garish purple gown covered in feathers—with a hairpiece to match.

you shrug, taking a sip of the expensive champagne, feeling the bubbles fizz down your throat as you swallow. it’s all so much, the noise, the people—as if you’re being smothered.

‘you’re being awfully quiet,’ she sighs, brushing your shoulder with her perfectly manicured hand. ‘isn’t there anything to tempt you?’

drusilla is more sympathetic than most in the capitol; she’d listened as you’d told her about your family back in seven, the trees that spanned for miles, how you often lay under their green blanket and daydreamed of a world beyond this one. but still, she would never understand what being a victor was like, there were scarce few in panem who did. many turned to morphling or alcohol upon their return home, and you’d heard horror stories whispered about victor’s being sold for certain services.

‘i’m just tired, that’s all,’ you murmur, reaching for another glass of champagne as a waiter walks past.

drusilla cocks a thin brow, a suspicious look glittering in her eyes. the throng of people is dizzying as you down your second champagne, but you feel your nerves ease, and pray that this night will become more bearable.

‘come, they all want to see you—their victor,’ she grins, pearly white teeth glistening under the golden light of the strings of lanterns.

you take her hand, and she pulls you through the crowd. it’s a vertigo-inducing sea of rainbow; hands clasping together in applause, rich cheers from their panted mouths. you feel your own lips twitch into a smile, but your eyes are somewhere else; far away from this. you can smell the soil back home, see the larks that fly through the trees that reach to the heavens. there’s a dreadful pang of homesickness thrumming in your heart.

and yet you cannot return home, not when they’re all watching you, waiting for the pretty victor to make a witty remark, or to make bids on who will get to have her first. you’re acutely aware that your pink dress is practically see-though, it’s gauzy fabric not leaving much to the eye. your feet ache from the heels they’ve put you in, and you know no matter how much they primp and preen at you, you’ll always be district. an outsider among those in wealthy excess.

among the throngs of people, you spot him—president snow. your breath catches between your lips. you’ve seen him before, obviously. his touch has always strayed a little too much when he’s been around you, but of course, you’d never say anything. you wonder how such a young man—he’s only 24 after all—rose to such power. nobody can deny how attractive he is, piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde curls. if he hadn’t put you in these games, maybe you’d even be persuaded to like him.

drusilla pushes you to him, and you stumble a little, the champagne causing a heady, floaty feeling in your body as you make an attempt to make yourself presentable. you hadn’t expect to be thrust towards him so soon, but the way he’s staring at you is as if he’s been expecting this.

‘don’t be so nervous, you look gorgeous,’ drusilla reminds you as you come to a halt before president snow.

he’s wearing one of his finely tailored suits; this one the crimson shade of red you’ve so often seen him wearing. you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and feel the absence of drusilla’s hand from your back. when you crane your neck—only slightly, so as not to seem rude—she’s disappeared into the throng of brightly clad partygoers.

‘my favourite victor,’ president snow reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to it. his lips are strangely cold. not that you knew what to expect, but somehow it makes sense. his demeanour is like ice.

‘president snow,’ you lean back into curtsy, your bad ankle aching as you do so.

he smiles, icy eyes flickering over your form. he can practically make out your undergarments in that dress; they’re a shade of peach and of such a sheer satin that you can nearly see right through, but it leaves enough for the onlooker to be left wondering what lies underneath. your eyes follow him, and you clutch at your arms shyly, as if half of the capitol hasn’t seen you dressed so scantly.

‘shy tonight, are we?’ he inquires, edging close enough to you that you can make out the slight five o’clock shadow on his jaw.

‘i’m tired, that’s all,’ you mutter, flinching as one of his hands grips at your waist.

‘i would’ve thought you’d enjoy this spectacle, seeing as you made quite the circus out of the arena,’ he leaned in close to your ear, in what you assumed was an intimidation tactic. in spite of being hardened by the arena, deep down, president snow terrified you. ‘the way you killed that boy from two—brutal. but you made yourself the star of the capitol…’

his touch strays further, grasping at the thin fabric that surrounds your ass. one blonde brow arches in surprise, and his lips flicker into what you assume to be a smirk. if he was anyone else, you would’ve pushed him away, but he’s your president. one word and you’d be good as dead; and after enduring the games, you’d rather not come face-to-face with that sort of confrontation again.

‘how pretty,’ he muses, fingers tracing lightly against your form. ‘did you wear this just for me?’

your lips purse, but your body propels you to give a swift nod of your head. ‘do you like it?’

president snow smiles, eyes dancing at your quick wittedness. the girls he has are usually stupid whores who he pays to suck his cock—you, on the other hand, are a precious prize. intelligent, obviously, and startlingly beautiful. and you’re the first female victor since mags flannagan, not that he has any say over her because he was still crawling his way up under dr. gaul then.

‘oh yes, i think you know why,’ he drops the fabric, and takes a few steps away, a blasé look crossing his features.

he watches as your cheeks turn a pretty pink, and you cast your gaze to the ground. how charming; you feigning bashfulness. he’d seen you at your most primal, knife dragging along the jugular of that boy. you couldn’t charm your way out of this one.

the silence pierces the air, and you are prompted to speak—anything to change the topic. the stagnancy between you two has wrapped it’s suffocating arms around you—and you don’t want to choke.

‘i must thank you, president snow, for the festivities,’ you gesture to the ridiculous amount of decorations; the blaring music and the light show.

‘i’m glad you like it,’ he remarks, but his eyes are still trained on you. he wants something from you, and you’re not sure what. ‘i had to celebrate my favourite victor, after all.’

you stifle a scoff; his flattery is sickening. he’s never this charming among company. he’s cold, calculating—you can see it in his eyes, still, but he so obviously needs you wrapped around his little finger. and of course, you can’t resist. who would disobey their president, after all?

‘you flatter me, sir,’ he swallows thickly at the appellation. god, he’d love to hear you call him that as he bends you over one of his expensive armchairs. he wonders if you’d beg him to stop, or if you’d take it. he can’t figure out which type you are, just yet.

‘there’s nothing wrong with flattery, don’t you think?’ he is close to you again, breath fanning your cheek. ‘especially when it comes from your president.’

you feel your body freeze up. there’s something so intimidating about him, and although you want to outsmart him, the way he makes your knees buckle turns you into another one of those bumbling capitol fools.

‘now, if you’ll excuse me, sweetheart. i’ve got a few matters to attend to,’ he backs away, leaving in a flourish of red.

you have to blink a few times to register his absence, and reach for another glass of champagne as a waiter holds out a decadent tray to you. why not? you think, taking time to sip elegantly at this one. there’s no harm in imbibing if you have to make it through this hellish night.

—

drusilla taps you on the back as you’re shoving an expensive vol-au-vent past your painted lips. when you turn around, she’s shocked to see your mouth full of the pastry, cheeks rounded out as you attempt to swallow it. the hunger pangs had grown considerably, and when you finally gulped it down, the effects of the champagne made you giggle.

‘oh honey,’ she shakes her head, reaching for a pristine napkin to wipe at the flakes of pastry by your lips.

the night had drawn on, and you’d been left with an anxious feeling after your encounter with president snow. everytime somebody so much as brushes against you, your head had whipped around as you searched for a head of perfectly-set blonde curls and a crimson coat. to your luck, it had only ever been waiters, carting more champagne. you reckoned you were drunk enough now that you didn’t care how you acted.

let them think you were a fool, you’d be heading home tomorrow anyways.

‘how much have you had to drink?’ she inquires, and watches as you furrow your brows in thought.

‘six, no—seven glasses,’ you admit, and drusilla scolds you with a clucking tongue, her pink curls bobbing as she shakes her head.

‘president snow won’t be very happy with that,’ she remarks.

your mouth turns into a curious pout, watching as her face falters into some sort of cryptic, far-away look. you run the soft fabric of your dress through your fingers as you let the words settle. no, it doesn’t make sense.

‘why would he care?’ you asked, a little piqued by the thought that he’d even be remotely interested in whether you were sober or not.

drusilla’s purple lips are drawn into a thin line, and she bends in close as if she’s ready to tell you a secret. your throat’s gone dry, the anxiety prying at you with it’s cold hands.

‘look, sweetie,’ her golden tone is laced with a little condescension. ‘president snow won’t like that you’re drunk. it won’t make the situation ideal for him.’

your brows quirk into a look of confusion. situation? drusilla sees your loss of words and takes it upon herself to inform you of the events. how naive you are, that you’ve got no idea just what he wants with you.

‘you’ve been asked to stay the night at the mansion,’ her eyes flicker to search for any eavesdroppers, and then she continues. ‘look, i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you earlier, but he’s asked to keep quiet about it. what with the others being jealous—’

‘others?’ your voice falters.

‘well, sweetie, you know how desirable victors are. president snow just wants to make sure nobody else gets their hands on you. that’s why he’s keeping you here, under close guard.’ drusilla bites her lip, revealing that she’s worried for you. she didn’t have much of a choice in your fate, but if she could forewarn you, she would.

you understood now why he’d been so touchy before—clearly he was jealous that somebody was trying to get their hands on his precious victor.

you lose all your words, mouth opening, nothing spilling out. it feels like it’s been filled up with dirt; you can hardly speak. drusilla goes to strike your arm, but is prevented from doing so as she’s whisked away by some blue-haired man harping on about her latest designs. once again, you feel the pangs of loneliness.

you had to reconcile yourself to the fact that the rest of your life—however long that may be—would be a lonely existence. you’d spent the better part of the month on the train, zigzagging back and forth between the districts, reading off prewritten speeches as you had to face the families of the fallen. all those children—their children—dead.

every night, you’d taken those pills prescribed by the doctors, the ones that stopped you from waking up with your hand around your throat as you screamed. you slept a dreamless sleep, but it became hard to not depend on them. what would you do without them tonight?

—

the party draws on long into the night, and you grow bored and overwhelmed. as per drusilla’s advice, and also not wanting to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning, you resorted to drinking the assorted non-alcoholic beverages.

your head is pounding by one am, but the party doesn’t seem to cease by any means. deciding you’ve had enough, and that nobody would really miss you—after all, nobody’s even talked to you for at least two hours—you stumble your way across the marble steps of the mansion. you hazily remember drusilla telling you what door you were meant to enter by, and you find it manned by a singular avox.

without a word, they let you inside, and you trail tipsily after them up a velvet staircase. your ankles roll as you climb the steps, head spinning, but it doesn’t take long to reach your room. your feet are aching, and when the avox leaves you to your own company, you practically tear the shoes off your feet.

you lay back against the white sheets, revelling in the feeling of the thousand-count cotton brushing against your skin. you’d never felt anything like it, and could feel your eyes shutting as you relax into the plush sheets.

you awaken what seems like hours later, but only twenty minutes have passed on the alarm clock by the bed. the sound of footsteps can be heard outside your door, and you’re surprised you can make it out as the party still booms outside the vast windows of the mansion.

you sit up, heart racing, and head throbbing slightly. you’re groggy from the champagne, and the bubbly tipsiness has given way to the absolute misery of sobering up.

the door opens, a small sliver of light giving way to the shadowy figure that progresses into the room. you squint, unable to make out a face, but pray it’s not one of the men you’ve heard were making bids for the victor.

you sigh a breath of relief when you see president snow, not a hair out of place as he stands beside your bed. your dress is up around your thighs, and you can see his blue eyes dancing across your frame.

‘president snow,’ you murmur into the darkness.

you wondered who had turned off the light in the first place—your memory is hazy at best but you don’t remember flicking the switch. an avox must have come past while you were sleeping.

‘i see my favourite victor has taken some respite,’ he muses, one cold hand reaching out to stroke your thigh.

you flinch back reflexively, not used to the icy feeling against your skin. nor are you used to the prying hands of men. the most you’d ever done was kiss a boy, and even then, that was years ago, you weren’t even sure it counted.

‘sorry,’ you spit out, lips trembling with apology. he only laughs, hand still tracing your smooth skin.

‘no need to apologise. i’d rather you doze here than fall asleep on a bench where any of those men could lay a hand on you,’ he makes a sound of disgust, shaking his head at the thought. ‘i couldn’t let them spoil my pretty victor.’

you feel your cheeks warm—did he really think you were pretty? but you remembered who he was; in fact he was the very reason there were even any games at all. he could put a stop to all this if he wanted, and yet he didn’t. you couldn’t let him fool you with his charm.

‘it’s very thoughtful of you, president snow,’ you offer, not wanting to raise suspicion in him.

in the moonlight, you can see a smile flicker across his lips. his hand moved further up to the apex of your thigh, and your breath hitches. what was he doing?

‘do you like that?’ he murmurs, leaning in against your ear, breath hot.

you can’t think of what to say. your thighs tingle a little with the touch, but you don’t want him there. it’s wrong. he’s the president though, and how can you tell him no when he could have you killed?

‘you’re a quiet one, aren’t you?’ he mutters, but wanting to rouse a sound out of you, he moves his hand to press flush against your panties, thumb stroking the area where your clit is.

you let out a breathy gasp; the pleasant warmth flooding your belly. his brows quirk up at your quick response—you’re so willing. he wonders how far he can push you; of course he wants to have you no matter what, after all, it’s his right as president—but he wants to know how much of a whore you are under those pretty clothes.

he knew what district girls were like. lucy gray—though that name made him shudder—bent easily under his guidance. he hoped you’d do the same; obey him. he had more power now, six years after his stint as a mentor and then peacekeeper. he kept that to himself; everybody else simply thought he’d been struck down with a bad bout of the flu, when really he’d been uncovering rebel plots by day and by night was burying his cock deep inside of whatever district slut would have him.

‘please, president snow,’ you beg, head spinning as he rubs at your sensitive nub.

‘please what?’ he inquires, an undercurrent of menace in his voice.

‘i mean—are you sure we should be doing this?’ you furrow your brows with anxiety. ‘aren’t there men who want to pay you good money for this?’

you squeeze your legs together in the hopes that he’ll stop, but this only angers him and he uses his muscular hands to pry your thighs apart. you can’t deny him this; he wants it, and he’ll have it.

‘oh, they’re not going to get you. no, you’re far too precious for the likes of them,’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘when i realised you were going to be sold to some scumbag who’s been divorced three times, well, i couldn’t let that happen.’

your mouth stretches into a perplexed pout, and you let out another soft moan as he rubs diligently at your clit. his other fingers brush over your red lace panties, and he sucks in a breath as he feels how soaked you are. surely you cannot deny him when you’re practically begging for it?

‘but…’ your lips tremble and you are almost deterred from saying what you want to by the scornful look painted across his noble features.

‘surely you don’t want me,’ you scramble to find an excuse.

‘why wouldn’t i? it’s not like you’re a girl anymore, hm? you’re nineteen, and ever so pretty,’ his other hand thumbs your cheek. you didn’t feel it, but you’d been crying. his thumb presses against a droplet.

‘please,’ you plead. ‘you wouldn’t enjoy it—i’m a virgin.’

he laughs, shaking his head at your stupidity. he hasn’t suspected it, what with the way you were dressed; the gown revealing far too much of your body to him—he could see the top of your nipples sticking out of the neckline.

‘oh no,’ he clucked his tongue. ‘then i simply must have you. how could let you i waste your virginity on any of those men when i could have you?’

you shake your head, body trembling as you feel yourself give way to his fingers, which were slowly bringing you to your pleasure. you clutch at the plush sheets and feel yourself gush, your panties growing even more damp.

he can’t believe it, how quickly you came. he wonders if you’d ever even touched yourself before. sure, you’d killed a boy, but you really knew very little about the world, and even less of men. it enthralled him.

his cock strained in his suit pants, and he let out a low grunt. you responded with a shocked look, but sighed as he stood up, letting go of your thighs. the way he’d touched you—it was scandalous. surely he’d be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out?

but your heart fell when you remembered that he was president. it’s not as if you were anything more than a hired whore who had to do her duty by him.

‘you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ he called out, combing a hand over his perfectly styled hair.

your mouth went dry, but you stood up, wanting to be defiant, clawing for anything to make you seem like you had some sense of autonomy. it was a lost cause, however. you forgot how he towered over you now that your heels were discarded. you couldn’t face up against him.

‘i said, you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ his voice was wrought with ire this time, and you nodded.

‘yes sir,’ you respond with a clear tone. you’re surprised you even managed it.

he reaches out to stroke your face again, sighing as your warm cheeks meet the cold pads of his fingers. you tremble a little, knees buckling in fear. anything could happen.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl and show your president how patriotic you are?’ he asks.

‘yes, mr president,’ you reply blankly. the name sends the blood straight to his cock.

‘then get on your fucking knees,’ he commands.

your head is spinning, but you somehow find your way to the ground, knees aching as you press them into the wooden floorboards. you hear the sound of something unzipping, and when you glance up, you come face to face with his cock.

he’s hard, and huge—not that you’ve ever seen one before—and he lets out a heavy grunt as he sees how pliant you are. he wants nothing more than to fuck that pretty little face of yours and watch how you gag around his length. he hasn’t known he was so big until he’d gotten to district 12 and the stupid district sluts kept choking on his cock. when he’d dressed in academy rouge he’d only ever known his own hand. but now, he knew what power he could exert with all eight inches of himself.

‘good girl,’ he strokes your chin, and when you open your mouth, he slides his thumb over your bottom lip.

your saliva coats his thumb, and you gag a little as he slides it to the back of your mouth. a small grin flickers across his lips; if you’re choking on his thumb, just imagine how bleary-eyed you’ll be as you gag around his cock.

‘god, i don’t want to think about what i would be missing out on if you’d died in that arena,’ he tuts at the thought, and slides his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own saliva at the corner of your lips.

your lipstick is smudged now, and he’s determined to ruin it even more; perhaps even have your mascara running down your cheeks as you take his cock in your mouth.

‘when i’d heard that the victor was to be the eighteen year old girl from district 7, well, i knew i’d be able to have you. especially once i got a look at you, in your victory dress. did they make it that short on purpose? to make my cock hard?’ he laughs, reminiscing how he’d taken a whore that night that looked just like you, pretending it was you that he was fucking from behind.

you shiver, terrified by him, his words. they’re disgusting. the way he viewed you as something to exploit—and it can’t even be considered taboo because you’re nineteen, after all. if the president wants you, he’ll get you.

‘answer me!’ he scowls, tugging at your intricate hairstyle, which hurts because the pins holding it together were already poking at your scalp.

‘no,’ you murmur, because it’s the truth. you wore what they told you to, you didn’t think it was supposed to be for him.

‘no?’ he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘well then, tonight at least—they must’ve known i wanted to have you. wasn’t going to let you get away from me this time.’

you swallow thickly, mouth agape in terror, knees trembling against the cool floor. you can feel the bruises forming on them; the dull ache of kneeling is humiliating.

finally, he presses his cock against your open mouth, a little pleased that it was hanging agape in shock, making it easier for him to slide it right in. you freeze, blinking back tears of mortification, but you can't say no, not when he's your president, not when there's that nagging ache in your core that makes you yearn for his fingers back against you.

you open wider, and he slides himself in, cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. you gag, the tears now dribbling foolishly down your cheeks, and president snow just laughs, the sound mottled with undertones of a soft groan. you wrap your lips around him, and move to bob your head up and down, but he grabs your hair and tugs it towards him.

you cry out, scalp stinging and mouth stuffed full to the brim with his cock. his grip tightens as he begins to thrust into your mouth, grunting as feels your saliva coat his length. he can't even fit himself all in, it's pathetic, but he'll help you learn in time how to deepthroat, so he can watch as your mascara runs while you beg him to push himself further down your throat. you'll become his personal fuckdoll.

'teeth,' he winces as he feels your top teeth make contact with the skin of his cock, and embarrassed, you make sure to push your top lip around them.

his lips stretch around a groan, forcing your nose to meet his pubic bone—the sound of your gags are delightful, and when his eyes flutter shut, you know he's enjoying it. he tosses his head back, cock throbbing as he forces it back and forth in your mouth. when his eyes open again, it's to the sight of your mascara running, thick black streaks painting your cheeks as you choke around him.

'so pretty,' he strokes your cheek, smearing the mascara even more. he wonders if you'll still be crying as he stretches you out, filling your cunt with his big cock. probably; he's forgotten how much whining virgins do.

feeling himself close, his thrusts grow more haggard, and you feel his balls slap against your chin as you attempt to breathe—through your nose, of course. his movements are suffocating, you're grasping at his hips, praying for it to be over—and then it is.

hot sticky spurts of cum slide right down your throat as he gives a loud moan, crying your name in praise. part of you—the part you revile—reddens at his praises, you want nothing more than to please your president. the other part of you tries not to gag as the pearly ropes of his cum slither achingly slow down your throat.

'good girl, swallowing it all—you'd do anything for your president, wouldn't you?' he coos, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

your lips ache, and you're sure the back of your throat is blooming purple with a bruise; but you nod, eyes all fucked out because your cunt is dripping wet, all for him.

'well, i really only want one more thing from my victor...' his voice trails off, lips pursing. you can see the desire in his eyes, icy gaze dripping with lecherous intent.

and yet, you cannot deny the fact that he had already made you cum once, that your body is begging for him. you hate it. you want to scream—if only you weren't so tired and your mouth didn't ache so sorely.

'how about you lay back in the bed, hm?' his voice is soft, laced now with the sweet tone he uses to charm the wives of senators and the little girls that give him roses.

you oblige blindly, and rise, knees black and blue, legs trembling, but somehow you find yourself laid back against the plush sheets once again.

‘can’t believe nobody else has had you,’ he murmurs, removing his shoes carefully, and then undoing his suit. it’s brand new, and he doesn’t want to spoil it.

when he’s undressed to his boxers, you can’t help but admire his form. he’s well-toned, biceps muscular, the slight formation of abs on his stomach, and you can see his cock has once again hardened. you press your thighs together in want, and he watches as you gaze at him, half-terrified, eyes blown wide, and yet half-wanton, body beckoning him to take you and make you his.

‘god, you’re so pretty,’ he muses, crawling across the bed and placing his arms either side of you.

you shiver, suddenly feeling brushed with cold, perhaps it’s from him. how fitting, you think, that his name and touch are both reminiscent of the cold. you can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, a reminder of your helplessness in this situation. the way he’s going to do whatever he wants with you.

he slides his fingers under the straps of your dress, forcing it down your arms. you lie still as a stone, letting him slide the dress down your body, exposing your breasts, watching him sigh as your nipples respond to the frigid temperature radiating from his body.

he takes one breast in his mouth, laving at your nipple until it hardens under his tongue. your hands are urging you to clutch at his perfectly styled hair, but you cannot move; the tears are brimming in your eyes and you’re not sure if they’re out of shame that he’s touching you, or shame that your body is so pliant to his touch.

he pushes the dress down further, and gets on his knees until he’s completely stripped you of it. there you lay, among the pristinely white sheets, the party alive outside of your window; completely bare besides your panties. your skin is pocked with goosebumps as he runs his hands over your bare stomach, fingers latching at the waistband of your panties.

‘god, are you wet for me?’ he chuckled as he removes your soaked panties—still evidence that he’d managed to make you cum.

you are unresponsive until he gives your skin a pinch between his slender fingers, and a soft yelp escapes your lips.

‘talk to me,’ he commands, though there’s an undertone of begging. not that the president should ever have to beg. ‘i can’t have my pretty victor keeping silent, especially not while i fuck her. i want to hear the sweet sounds that are going to come from your lips.’

you give a nod, eyes flickering to glance at the ceiling, watching as the hazy lights from outside dance upon the ornate eaves. one of his hands touches your cheek, the chill bringing you back to meet his gaze.

‘gonna make you mine,’ he groans, reaching down to palm at his cock through his boxers.

you push away the tears at your eyes, and your hands go down to clutch at the sheets. you’re still a little floaty from the champagne, but it can’t seem to take you away from what is occurring right before your eyes.

'look at me!' he snaps, hard cock now pressing against the inside of your thighs.

'sorry,' you manage to get out, lips trembling as you brace yourself—he's big... too big.

'fuck, can't believe i get to have you all for myself...but i suppose it's the least i deserve as president,' a soft laugh plays upon his lips, the sound soon mottled by a low moan.

he eases the tip into your hole, sighing at your tightness. your eyes flutter shut, but strangely, your core only tingles as he slides himself into you. it's the ultimate betrayal—your body is yielding to him, growing wetter as he sheathes himself completely inside of you; at least, most of his eight inches.

'so fucking wet,' he grins devilishly, beginning to buck his hips gently.

you look so angelic, hair sprawled out on the pillow like a halo, the soft lights from the party glowing against your skin. coriolanus wants to take it slow, in spite of how much his cock is throbbing, because you are his prize—he must relish you. he can't let your virginity go to waste, after all. half the capitol has been vying for it, and now he is the one to take it. he imagines the disgruntled looks on the faces of the men who had bid for you when he informs them that you've been spoiled—and if any of them complained, well, he's the president. he could see to their... accidental deaths.

as he stretches out your tight walls, a pretty moan escapes your lips, by accident, but he takes this as a sign that you are surrendering yourself to him. coriolanus smiles a little to himself, and fastens the pace slightly, grunting as your body opens itself to his caresses.

‘you like that, hm?’ he inquires, one cold hand moving down to rub your clitoris.

you let out another gasp, this time of shock and pleasure, as his thumb presses against your sensitive nub. his eyes dance with delight as you come apart under him, your cunt growing slicker by the second. you’re so beautiful, and he glances down at the part where you two meet—his big cock stretching out your tight walls. a milky ring of your arousal coats his shaft, only driving him more lustful as he fucks you.

‘president snow…’ you cry out, trying to shove his hand away.

you can see the ire returning to his eyes, and when he presses down on your clit harder you stop and allow your body to relax. you realise it’s fruitless to try and fend him off anymore—he’s making you feel good, after all. but that’s the terrible part of it, the fact that you can feel waves of pleasure washing over you again. he’s smiling sickly, groaning as he ruts into you with grunts.

‘you're so fucking tight,’ he moans, watching you moan with pleasure as his fingers bring you to climax.

‘so good…’ you say, barely above a whisper, but the knowing look he cast you makes you admit it—after all, perhaps he’ll be kinder next time. let you decide when you want it.

‘yeah? you like the way my big cock is filling you out? how your president is reminding you who you belong to?’ he grunts, and you give a lazy nod.

the coil in your stomach comes unbound slowly as the combination of his cock stretching you out and his thumb rubbing diligent circles around your clit drives you over the edge. your toes curl sightly, arms moving up to grip at his back. you find the smooth, cold skin is surprisingly toned; hard muscles prominent under your touch.

you feel your pleasure peaking, body dancing with warmth and want. you try to stifle your moan by turning your head into the pillow, but his hand grasps your chin and pulls you back to meet his gaze.

‘don’t turn away from me!’ he scolds, brows knitting into a pained expression.

‘i’m sorry…’ you murmur, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body as his thumb coaxes another orgasm out of you—your second one for the evening. your cheeks fill with warmth as your arousal coats his cock, causing coriolanus to let out a breathy groan.

you pray that it ends soon, but your body continues to dance with pleasure and satisfaction, giving into him, allowing him to make his stake in you. his pretty little victor that he was deflowering—and she came around his cock and everything!

‘fuck,’ coriolanus grunts, hands travelling down to grab at the soft skin of your hips as he pounds into you. ‘all fucking mine. taking me so well…’

when you clench around him, he feels his balls tighten, and cock still for a moment as he reaches his own climax. you’re mewling so prettily—half-begging for him to stop by the way your head roles about in a dissociative reverie shows him that if your heart cannot be persuaded to take him, your body will.

‘shit,’ he spits as he slows his pace, dragging in and out of you at a painfully still speed.

he doesn’t want to finish so quickly, but you’re so fucking tight and your slick coating his cock has set his nerves on fire—his tip is throbbing with desire. coriolanus’ fingers are plunged into the supple skin of your hips, digging far enough that you feel a few bruises forming under the skin.

'so fucking tight,' he curses, sliding himself all the way out before filling you up to the hilt again. the sound of your wet cunt squelching around his big cock reverberates against the walls.

another moan escapes your plump lips, egging coriolanus on—clearly you're enjoying this to some extent; you've come twice tonight. next time he might not be so kind, after all, he's only being so sweet because you're a virgin—you're more like a prize to enjoy than anything else.

'gonna fill you up with my cum,' he sneers, eyes rolling shut as he pushes himself against your g-spot. you contract around him in response. 'you'd like that, wouldn't you? taking your president's cum? so patriotic, aren't you?'

the way he's still squeezing and pinching at your hips urges you to respond, so you cast a groggy nod—the champagne is still making your head swim.

'good girl,' he praises, and you respond with a genuine smile.

coriolanus grunts heavily, his balls tightening, and he feels hot spurts of cum spurt out from the tip of his cock. the relief that washes over him is blissful; watching you take every last drop of him makes him sigh deeply. you can't help but squirm at the sticky feeling as he thrusts his cum back up into you. you're trying not to lurch away in disgust—his hands, now clamping down on your shoulders, are keeping you there, close to him.

when he pulls out, he gazes at your weeping cunt in awe as his cum trickles down your thighs. you’ll always be his—he can see that by the tiny smudge of blood that also coats your inner thigh on one side. he doesn’t know if he can bear to sell you to those other men now; perhaps he’ll just have to lock you up here and keep you all to himself.

‘thank you, mr president,’ you murmur, half on the verge of sleep.

your body is humming with exhaustion, and you begin to curl up into a supine position, trying to force away the uncomfortable combination of his sticky cum and the dull ache between you thighs.

‘i’ll be back tomorrow,’ he presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing a few tendrils of hair out of your half-closed eyes. ‘don’t think you can get away from me now, my pretty victor.’

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julietsbody · 1 year ago

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thirsty — coriolanus + reader : the capitol’s star player, golden boy, coriolanus snow had an odd obsession with the water girl, and what other liquids she could provide for him.

tags : MDNI! 18+!! soccer ! tbosas au, bimbo ! reader, squirtingggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!, fingering, pussy play, nicknames (dollface, various barbies, princess), filthy filthy stuff fr, might be a SLIGHTTTT piss kink fic, princess / special treatment, overstimulation, public sex (semi but still), voyeurism

a / n : AND BOY I I FANTASIZE ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME IF U WERE MINE ID GIVE THIS PUSSY TO U 9-5 5-9

the heat in panem was enough to dehydrate someone who drinks water daily in seconds, coriolanus waves a clipboard he had taken from casca in front of his face, trying to earn some cool air from it. to nobody’s surprise, the water girl had come bouncing in with your pink kitten heels, short white skirt, and pink tank top that your tits were practically spilling out of.

your hair was pulled back into some slick back ponytail, with of course, a ribbon tied around the base of the ponytail. you always looked so perfect, makeup barely budging against the strong heat as you came waltzing in.

you were a fan favorite of the team’s, so sejanus and festus’ heads immediately snap from the soccer ball they they were dribbling to you now. sejanus’ eyes light up immediately, waving to you, “hey!”

you offer him a barbie - like smile, waving back with your freshly manicured nails, “hihi, sejanus! it’s sooooooo hot.”

sejanus smiles sweetly as he approaches you, “made sure the water was cold today?”

he’s teasing you of a time the heat was this bad and you forgot to add ice to the bucket holding the waters. you cried that day, many times. coriolanus found you having a sobbing fit in the hallway, repeating to yourself that you were so stupid. coriolanus was never good with affection, but he gave you a small hug that day, and assured you it didn’t matter at all.

and when festus called you a dumb bitch for it?

coriolanus made it his priority to fuck festus up on that field that day, and good lord, he did.

festus was ushered off with a broken wrist because of a move coriolanus made, and coriolanus was taken off with a red card and a proud smirk on his face. now festus and coriolanus are never allowed on the same field, no matter what. which was good, because festus was a mediocre player, whilst coriolanus has a record for most man of the match’s won.

you pout at him, “not funny, sej.”

he chuckles, eyes softening at you as he tips his head in your vision, “‘m jus’ messing with you, sweet girl, water is water regardless of temperature, yeah?”

sejanus and coriolanus were both always reassuring you, always so sweet with you despite their cold exteriors, despite the fact that they’re the most sought after players, they never let that ego get to them.

well… sejanus didn’t.

coriolanus did sometimes. speak of the devil, snow moves to bump into sejanus’ shoulder, offering him a toothy grin with his sharp canines. sejanus glares at him, like he was interrupting something special, “how are you in such a good mood when you were just whining over the heat?”

coriolanus ignores sejanus’ obvious attempts to embarrass him to impress you, his blue eyes locking onto you with a whistle, “hey, malibu barbie.”

you playfully roll your eyes at him, “you can’t just call me a different barbie every time you see me.”

“yeah?” his jaw ticks, eyeing you up and down, god, he loved the way your short skirt rides up your thighs, the way your tits bounce through that practically see - through tank top, “why not?”

“i don’t like it,” you pout at him.

sejanus nods along, “yeah, snow, she doesn’t like it.”

coriolanus sighs at him, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you’re such a cuck, dude.”

he smirks at your ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ expression due to his words, truly not understanding what he means by calling sejanus a cuck— was he stopping him from something?

you blink dumbly at them, and coriolanus only shrugs, turning to stride past a silent festus.

sejanus scoffs, “can’t believe he gets away with shit like that.”

you frown at him, “he’s probably having a rough day— or like… ‘m not sure, you know how he is, sej.”

“yeah, yeah,” sejanus watches as his cleats sink into the grass, “pretty sure he has a huge crush on you, too.”

ㅤ˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

PANEM 6-2 DISTRICT 2

as soon as the match was over, coriolanus came up to you, sweat causing his platinum hair to stick to his forehead as he takes a cold water bottle from your hands, fingers brushing against yours.

he takes a sip from it before leaning in to tower over you, “you saw that bicycle kick?”

you nod at him excitedly, “i did! you’re soo good, coriolanus.”

he rolls his tongue along his teeth, “yeah? you think so?”

you smile sweetly at him with more nods as he walks past to the locker - room, sejanus moving to wrap his arm around coriolanus’ shoulders, to be honest, sejanus should be thanked for coriolanus’ bicycle kick because he’s the reason the ball was even at a level for coriolanus to kick it— but will coriolanus ever admit that?

of course not!

in fact, coriolanus doesn’t even think of all his achievements this match even when everyone is patting him on the back, dumping their water bottles on him and leaving him even more drenched than he was before. but with all this water, he just can’t stop thinking of you.

that expression on your face earlier, plump lips parted in shock, he wonders how well they would wrap around his cock—

@csnow18 : hey you busy

@csnow18 : ?

you pluck out your phone as soon as it buzzes, only to see a message from coriolanus, on instagram. he had your number.. why didn’t he… honestly, you knew better than to question him at this point.

@princess101 : no.. why?

@csnow18 : im really thirsty

@princess101 : just gave u water ‎‎໒꒰ྀི -᷅ ⤙ -᷄ ꒱ྀིა

@csnow18 : festus took it from me

a lie.

@csnow18 : come to the locker room?

@princess101 : rolling my eyes at u rn

@princess101 : u owe me

@princess101 : and stop letting festus take stuff from u!!!!!!!!

this wasn’t the first time he has lied about festus taking his water bottle just to see you, but it was the first he had different intentions for when he saw you.

he already knows you’re coming before you’re even there, mostly because he can hear the click! clack! of your heels, but also because of the whistles of the people passing by you. coriolanus hated how people immediately turned to drooling animals when they saw you, it wasn’t of jealousy but rather possessiveness, because can he really blame them?

his eyes light up when he sees you, pushing his soaked hair back, “tropical splash barbie.”

you pout at him, putting your hands on your hips, “how do you even know so many barbies?”

he shrugs simply, “because i see one every day.”

you sigh, moving to push a water bottle to his chest, “happy?”

“hey,” he leans in closer, fingers wrapping around the bottle, “why’re you actin’ like that?”

“‘m not acting like anything,” you lie, “just don’t get thirsty again.”

as soon as you spin on your heel to walk away, he clicks his tongue disappointedly, “you know… i don’t know if this water is g’na keep me hydrated enough.”

you blink at the floor, what? what… “what?”

you turn back around to meet his eyes, watching his pupils immediately dilate at the way your skirt barely shows your panties whenever you twirl around, “do you just serve water, princess?”

you stare at him dumbly, “i don’t get it—“

“you don’t?” he takes a step closer, “i see the way you look at me, doll, always watching when i make a goal, cheering me on, purposefully bouncing up and down so your panties show and your tits nearly pop out that shirt.”

it was true. all so fucking true. the entire team was so, so attractive, especially coriolanus— you don’t ever wear things for men, but the men of panem’s soccer team? your own dress - code is practically the tightest, most slutty clothes ever!

“i…” you pause, lips shimmering from your lip - gloss, “i do have other juices.”

his tongue rolls along the inside of his teeth, tights curling upwards ever so slightly, “think i might need those, dollface.”

you nod at him, “but— not here.”

he hums, moving to drop the water bottle onto the ground as he leans in closer and closer until his lips are buzzing against your cheek, “yes, here.”

you can’t help but melt into his touch as he peppers kisses along your face, pecking against your lips until his kisses drop down to run along your neck. your nails rake up his arms ever so gently, “people will catch us..”

“mm - mm,” he disagrees, “all showerin’, jus’ let me get hydrated, yeah?”

he’s quick to move to his knees, smiling whenever he catches a glimpse of you looking around to see if anyone’s coming as his fingers trace along your thighs, lips following along after them. you’re so paranoid, god, for such a dumb slut, you really didn’t want to get caught.

he hikes your skirt up to catch a glimpse of your panties, pastel red, to match the team’s colors and oh— oh what’s this? on the right side near your hip, it’s his player number, 18, with a heart surrounding it. he gawks up at you, chuckling at the reason for you always wanting to show off your panties, you had already marked him on them.

you shyly hide your face, trying to ignore him until his finger presses against the wet spot of your panties left by your cunt. you shiver under his touch, “been wet for me all day, hm?”

you nod at him, fingers moving to faintly cover your mouth, “always wanted you, corio..”

he presses a sweet kiss to your inner thigh, before hooking a finger on your delicate panties and tugging them down, “you wrote my number on all your panties?”

you continue nodding, shivering when his fingers lightly graze along your cunt, “mhm.. sej— sej.. is on some, too.”

“that so? maybe i should get him out here to fuck you, too,” he presses his thumb against your clit, watching your hips buck ever so slightly, lashes fluttering.

you shake your head, “n-no.. not now— want.. just you.”

he moves to push your legs apart with his free hand, moving his hand on your clit out of the way so he can finally dive in. his tongue is quick to lick a stripe up your cunt, lips wrapping around your clit and taking it in his mouth to suck on with ease.

your fingers move to his head, nails threading through his wet hair as you bite on the fingers of your free hand, trying so hard to not make any noise but gosh, the feeling of his mouth on you was just too much.

his hand runs up your thigh, holding you stable as his mouth completely devours your cunt, not offering you any remorse as your hips jerk against nothing, teeth sinking past layers of your skin to muffle your whines.

it’s not long before his hand is sliding from your thigh to your cunt as his lips move back up to your clit, ever so slowly sliding two of his fingers inside of your soaked entrance. you took his fingers so well, velvet walls pulsing around flesh and bone, tightening around him like he was a lifeline.

your grip on his hair immediately becomes lethal, babbling nonsense against your finger, “corio— co..corio… ‘ts too much— ‘m gonna..”

that was coriolanus’ cue, his fingers immediately curl into you and he starts moving them back and forth so his fingers are repeatedly penetrating that spongey spot that makes your eyes roll back. you tug at his hair as the sounds of his fingers moving inside of you become wet squelching, a familiar feeling washing over you but with a tinge of something different.

it felt like an orgasm but no— no, it was wetter than an orgasm, because now his hand was completely drenched in your wetness, his lips moved to a part so it could spray into his mouth. it was so, so filthy, the way he gulped it down, and made you squirt again, and again, and again.

you were like a fountain of nectar that he just couldn’t get enough of.

you were so fucked out that you didn’t realize you were cuming again until your body is wracked with another orgasm, gushing all over his fingers and into his mouth once more. you whimper above him, silently begging for mercy as he continues to pump his fingers into your overstimulated pussy, “corio— please.. too much— can’t..”

he licks the remaining juices from his lips as he finally pulls his fingers out, lapping up the cum and other substances dripping off of his skin. he takes a grip of your hips to stabilize you as he stands, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “thank you, dollface, such a good water girl.”

your lips part to speak but you’re interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

your eyes immediately snap to the side, only to find..

“sejanus?”

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gh0stsp1d3r · 1 year ago

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ℱ𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎 ℴ𝒻 𝓅𝒶𝓃ℯ𝓂

Possessiveness, capitol reader, fem!reader , inspiration from the book

Everyone knew the First Lady of Panem was his. The knew the second he had set his eyes on you, they knew the second Coriolanus snow had started to call you his girl all the way back in the academy.

No one could set their filthy eyes on you, they were below you. If they did, no one would hear from them the next day.

You were so sweet, too sweet and innocent for this world in Coriolanus’s eyes. He shielded you from the bad in the world, protecting you, he said.

You always will remember the sweet loving coryo that handed you a little white rose when he first met you.

No one else could see how sweet he treated you, his beautiful, darling wife.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tboas #coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow drabble #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #president coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow

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er1nne · 3 months ago

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(do not copy or plagarize, original work) coriolanus loves when you dress up

“Do you like this?” you asked, turning slowly in front of the mirror. The dress shimmered in the low light, the deep burgundy catching shadows in its folds. You smoothed the fabric over your hips, trying not to glance at Coriolanus’s reflection behind you. He sat in the armchair by the window, the warm glow of the skyline casting faint golden highlights over his sharp features. His pale eyes flickered toward you, but he said nothing at first, his gaze skimming lazily over the silhouette of your dress as he flipped through pages of the book he was reading. You waited, forcing yourself to appear casual as you fiddled with the thin straps.

His silence stretched just long enough to tighten your chest, but then he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips curling into a faint smile. “It’s different,” he said at last, his tone mild. “Unexpected.” His smile deepened as he added, almost as an afterthought, “I suppose that’s what you were going for?”

You blow a signed breath through your lips with an pout at his lack of a response.

“Obviously,” you replied, forcing a laugh. “I mean, not everything has to be so formal, right? A little variety never hurt anyone.” You tugged at the neckline, suddenly self-conscious under his steady gaze. He didn’t respond immediately, just shifted in his chair with that careful, deliberate grace of his, setting his glass of wine down on the table beside him. “Variety,” he repeated slowly, his voice low and contemplative. “It’s an admirable trait, certainly. Though it does make one wonder…” He trailed off, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror. The way he looked at you was unsettling, as though he were appraising you rather than admiring you. “Wonder what?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended. His smile didn’t falter, but something in his eyes glinted, cool and knowing. “Whether variety suits you,” he said simply, as though the words were perfectly harmless.

Your smile faltered for just a second before you recovered, brushing off the unease creeping into your chest. “Well, I like it,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest in mock defiance. “And I think it’s nice to mix things up every once in a while. You don’t always have to play it safe, you know.” You turned back to the mirror, hoping to reclaim the confidence you’d felt when you first put the dress on. But Coriolanus’s reflection loomed behind yours, his gaze heavy and unyielding. “Playing it safe,” he murmured, as though tasting the words. He rose from his chair, his movements slow and unhurried, and approached you with the quiet authority that seemed to follow him everywhere. “There’s nothing wrong with taking risks,” he said as he came to stand behind you, his presence towering over your smaller frame. “But not all risks are worth taking. Some… detract more than they add.”

You frowned, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. “It’s just a dress, Coriolanus,” you said, your voice tinged with exasperation. “You make it sound like I’m committing some kind of crime against fashion.” He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a faint shiver down your spine. “Not at all,” he replied, his tone warm but measured. “It’s just that you’ve always had a certain… natural elegance. Something others could never hope to replicate. I’d hate to see that overshadowed by something that doesn’t do you justice.” His words were laced with praise, but there was an undercurrent to them, a subtle weight that made your stomach twist. “It’s not about the dress,” he continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “It’s about how it reflects you. And you, my dear, deserve nothing but the best.”

The way he said it—soft, persuasive, almost reverent—made your heart stutter in your chest. You didn’t know whether to feel flattered or uneasy. “Well,” you said lightly, hoping to dispel the tension that seemed to coil around you. “I guess I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” You tried to step away, but his hands found your shoulders, holding you in place with a grip that was firm yet gentle enough to seem innocuous. “There doesn’t need to be a next time,” he said softly, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re perfect as you are. I only want you to see it the way I do.” The words should have been reassuring, but they felt like a thread tightening around you, binding you to him in ways you couldn’t quite name.

You laughed nervously, brushing a hand through your hair as his fingers lingered on your shoulders. “You always know how to make me feel special,” you said, your voice wavering just enough for you to notice. His smile returned, soft and enigmatic, as though he’d won some unspoken argument. “It’s because you are special,” he murmured. “More than you realize.” He stepped back then, releasing you, and the absence of his touch was almost as unsettling as the weight of it. You turned to face him, searching his face for some sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable, his pale eyes as impenetrable as ever. And though you smiled at him, forcing the unease to the back of your mind, a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that his words had slipped beneath your skin, rooting themselves deeper than you intended to let them.

AN: if it's not clear, i am madly in love with this man (and drew starkey)

#drabble #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #coryo x reader #the hunger games #writtenbyerin #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus snow x you #୨୧ written by erin ୨୧

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tonixe · 1 year ago

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malignant —- adjective. disposed to cause harm, suffering, or distress deliberately; feeling or showing ill will or hatred.

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 �� 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 -—- ♱

Coriolanus has a big jealousy problem, every time you talk to other men even the ones he knows, he gets jealous really fast, imagine mid-conversation with a stranger he pulls you and mutters an 'excuse me' as he drags you off.

Starts fighting with you that your cheating on him, calling you a slut and a whore for talking to men other than him. You just say that he's just a friend or someone you knew, and he wouldn't believe you, and drag you off to the washroom.

Coriolanus who really rough on you—when he's fucking you, grabbing your hair, and ripping you out of your dress. Just him hatefucking you, you're not even enjoying it just your screams falling death to his ears. The screams echo throughout the manor, even the maids and Butler hearing your useless pleas.

Coriolanus is cold, He wouldn't even care about your battered body, his hands gripping onto your waist, marking your body. Now, Coriolanus is never rough with you or hits you, but when he's jealous, he can't help it...you just have to brace for impact; His hands harshly gripping your chin, as he lowers his head towards, his blue eyes staring into yours, and tears couldn't help but to fall out from the induced pain you have been through. His cruel words come out of his mouth, calling you a slut or a whore. Your lips are bitten up, and tears dripping down from your cheeks.

If he's really mad at you it's face down, ass up. His hands smack the plush of your ass, as you scream his cock slipping in and out of you. His hands forcefully burying your face into the mattress, making you almost suffocate. He knew that you deserved the punishment, his wife couldn't be whoring herself around. He finishes himself inside of you, just for his cum dripping out of you mixing with your blood.

He might forgive you if just take it, but he'll never take his eyes off of you...ever

Coriolanus who needs an heir! Imagine if Coriolanus wants to have a baby, he would make it keen to you, though you didn't feel ready to have a copy of you and Coriolanus running around.

The many sacrifices you would have to make, and Coriolanus just doing the bare minimum...didn't sit right with you. Always saying no, or ignoring it, making him get angry by the second.

One day you were just tending to the manor, fixing your skirt, and then a rushing maid, came up to you with a scared expression on her face, her mouth muttering out words, "Coriolanus, want you at his office, my lady" she looks at you in fear, her body trembling. You nodded, walking down the empty manor, your heels stepping down on the delicate floors, leading to the desolate, ominous-feeling office awaiting your presence to him. Your hands on the golden handle, opening up the Roman panel doors.

With the click of the door, as you opened to Coriolanus already examining you,

You felt like prey to a predator. You didn't want to close the door, feeling an uneasy sensation in your stomach, closing the door. "You called," you remarked, You couldn't help but look away from him. You felt alarms going off in your head, your conscious warning you of what was going to come, and the next thing that happened, was your body on the bare floor, your dress hoisted up as Coriolanus thrust into you, tears staining your vision, "Your going to be a wonderful mother" his haunting words echoing in your head, during the assault.

Coriolanus abused your body with his touch, fucking himself into you and pumping his come right after, making sure you were going to pregnant with his heir. Even if it meant him tracking your cycle and knowing when you ovulate

Coriolanus who wants an heir so badly! making sure he throws out all of your birth control pills, making sure that his sacrifices don't go to waste, and that all your movements are being tracked by the staff and peacekeepers.

Coriolanus's plan worked! looking at your now round and big belly carry his children! He would be so delighted, though you always had a scared expression etched on your beautiful face when you saw him, especially when you delivered the news to him

But you would have never known what he did for this to happen, it wasn't for your pretty little head to think about, no?

That's right it wasn't for your head to think about at all!

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melminli · 11 months ago

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drabble w/ modern bf coryo

"Let's get married."

Your boyfriend looked up kinda skeptical from his cell phone and didn't know what exactly to answer to your out of the blue question. Kind of weird since Coriolanus was usually so quick-witted, but well, it was already 11 pm, and he was probably tired. His reaction time was not at its best. "What makes you think that now? Is this another one of your trends that I don't know about?" He asked, taking a very critical approach. That question felt like a trap to him, and he definitely didn't want to step into it.

You just crossed your arms. "So you don't want to marry me?" You accused him and found it a little funny to see how stressed the usually calm Coriolanus Snow was.

He sighed. "...that's not what I said. Don't put words in my mouth." He said, somewhat exhausted, and tried to collect himself. "I just want to know where the idea came from. You never seemed interested in that sort of thing."

Your actual plan wasn't to turn everything he said around, but it was kind of fun. "Wow, so you don't think I'm serious about our relationship?" You threw into the room with a disappointed look on your face. "We've been together for 5 years Coryo, doesn't that mean anything to you?"

The accused moved his hands around nervously, searching for the right words for a few seconds. "Of course it does! I was just - I mean - I thought that - " he bubbled nervously until he realized what kind of situation he was in. This wasn't one of those conversations. Coriolanus rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Wait, what is this? What are you doing?" He asked, confused when he saw a grin spread across your face. "...you're fucking with me, aren't you?"

You playfully punched him on the shoulder. "I am. I wanted to see how you'd react." You finally admitted. "But why were you so careful? You don't have to be afraid of spending a lifetime with me, you know?" You pouted a little, whereupon he pulled you into a hug.

"I'm not afraid of it." He comforted you. "But the way you said it sounded like a threat, so don't hold it against me."

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spideyhexx · 1 year ago

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mdni

tw dark coriolanus? dom/sub dynamics.

Coriolanus cocks his head, studying your expression as he answers your question.

You joked about how easy it is for him to get hard around you. How he must always be horny and without a beat he said those words and you felt any confidence you had left in you start to diminish.

“Or, to correct that, I always wanna fuck you, bunny.”

There it is. His lips curl as it rolls off his tongue and he's about to roll his eyes at how quickly you're on your knees in front him, pawing at his thighs, waiting for any sort of permission.

Coriolanus crouches down to your level, his icy eyes searching yours. His hair is fixed to perfection and you long to mess it up, deprave him of this clean cut look he's trying on.

You have no idea what's running through his head and it's killing you.

"Do you need your mouth filled?" You tell him yes and Coriolanus' gaze darts to your neck as you swallow. He tsks.

He stands back up and walks over to his desk. When he sits down in his padded chair, he sees you're still in the same spot.

"Are you coming?"

You go to stand and he holds his hand up to signal you to stop. Coriolanus needs to say nothing. He's trained you well and your mind flashes back to his sweet little name for you. You always used those as a means to tell you exactly what mood he's in.

So you crawl over to him. He's not that far, but with every move you make, your insides are burning with a humiliation so deep and you're glad Coriolanus is the only one who gets to experience it.

Once you're on your knees beside his chair, he's presenting his fingers in front of your face, the tip of this thumb brushing your lips.

"Drool around these until I'm finished working, bunny. I'll stuff your mouth with something bigger later," he says, without another glance to you as he focuses on whatever work he needs to get done.

You hold his wrist gently, taking two, maybe three of his fingers into your mouth. You'd try to tease him, lolling your tongue around them, sucking on them, anything, but Coriolanus has the most self control you've ever seen.

And you'd sit there, his fingers stuffed into your mouth, your hand caressing his wrist and Coriolanus would ignore you the entire time.

He'd work slower just cause he knows you're waiting for more. But regardless of his teasing, when he does finally let you have his cock in your mouth despite the ache in your jaw your mouth and chin covered in your own spit, he's oddly gentle and caring. He helps you slowly bob your head on him, cooing about how he knows you love his cock, thick and heavy in your mouth. He relishes in your little whimpers and the way he can see you drool from the corners of your mouth. Coriolanus loves that you're sloppy with it. It's something that only he gets the pleasure to witness and isn't that one of his most powerful turn ons?

But Coriolanus still likes to be mean.

He doesn't let you swallow his cum, despite your cute little protests and the way you lap up any pre cum beading from his tip as he takes his cock out of your mouth.

Coriolanus makes you take it in your cunt, laying you on your tummy, his weight almost completely on you as he fucks you from behind. He's reciting back his words from earlier as he pounds into you, his hand snaking to hold onto your throat, his lips ghosting at your ear.

"I always wanna fuck you, bunny. Cause this? This is all mine," and he makes sure you know that every single time his length twitches inside of you. "Your pussy, your mouth, your love, your life is all mine," he'd growl and make you repeat it to him before he finally lets you have all of him.

let's chat about coryo, here :)

#listen #dont question me #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #coryo snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow drabble #coryo x reader #coriolanus x y/n

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bluemerakis · 5 months ago

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────────────────────────

𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚜 𝜗𝜚

who i write for ─ currently, I have been writing for young!coriolanus snow, but I can expand into other characters

requests ─ open

◜ 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙶!𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙰𝙽𝚄𝚂 𝚂𝙽𝙾𝚆 ◝

𝙵𝙸𝙲𝚂

ོ young!coriolanus snow x district!reader

i. paper trails

ii. ─

𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚃𝚂

ོ i’m the guy mothers warn you about

𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙻𝙴𝚂

ོ

「 BACK TO NAVIGATION 」

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slaymitchabernathy · 13 days ago

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HIS SLUTYYY AS WAIST ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

#slaymitchabernathy #coriolanus snow #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus fanfiction #soarynn snow #the hunger games #ao3 fanfic #wattpad #coriolanus x sejanus #coryo snow #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus drabble #coriolanus oneshot #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fic #coriolanus smut #presidentssnow

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cloudywriting05 · 1 year ago

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i love your coryo one shot. can u do like a drabble about what coryo would be like in bed? is he kinky, rough, weird? dont hold back! THANK YOUU

MY FIRST-EVER SUGGESTION I'M GETTING EMOTIONAL, idk if this is a drabble but lol I tried.

Coriolanus would be an intense lover, but also a selfish one. Taking all his stress out on you at the end of the day. He channeled all the pressure surrounding making sure his family name succeeds into fucking you, making sure his strokes were deep and slow. He never failed to make you have body-shaking orgasms, he thought it was emasculating to leave without making sure you had finished.

He would get rough with you a lot, silently punishing you for hanging around the other boys in front of him; you just thought he was kinky. He would smack your ass so much to the point it would hurt to sit for a while, constantly grabbing your jaw with one hand to admire you, and then spitting in your mouth. You still remember the first time he’d slapped you across your face, it was so confusing. You felt the slap but couldn’t register it as painful, it felt good. The dirty talk was your favourite part. The caressing of your hair while he spat profanities at you, degrading your intelligence, calling you his little slut.

#coriolanus smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #young coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x sejanus #coryo #reader x character #smut #oneshot #drabble

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risingoftime · 1 year ago

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can i call you rose?

⤷ peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!reader: coriolanus and you celebrate your anniversary, slow dancing as you reminisce about the time you met.

The Covey sang softly, a sweet ballad that Coriolanus had written for your anniversary with Coriolanus. It had been a year since you’d met here in the hub, and every moment since then had felt like a dream.

You met Coryo on a drunken night and remember dancing wildly and letting loose on a hot Saturday night. Not a care in a world, as the music moved you. Amid your festivities, a body crashed into you, causing moonshine to spill on your shirt and the stranger who stood before you. Despite the mishap, his eyes captivated you like a bright pool of water, drawing you in. It was the first thing that caught your attention, even before you noticed his distinct accent, unlike any you had heard from District 12.

"Watch your step, pretty lady," he said with a charming smile, his voice conveying mystery and allure. Coriolanus didn’t have the twang in his voice that the locals had. Your palms began to sweat at the realization that you had spilled your drink on a Peacekeeper. But Coriolanus kept his hands steady on your waist with his alluring smile.

“Shit! I didn’t mean to-. I’m so sorry, sir,” you stuttered.

Coriolanus had been nothing but a gentleman and laughed softly at how quickly you transformed into such a timid thing.

He ignored your apology and replied, “May I have this dance?”

Coriolanus pulled you out of your trance when he peppered small kisses along your jawline down to your neck as he swayed with you along with the melody.

“Coryo-“

“Shhh, listen to the lyrics. I wrote them special for you.” Coryo held you close to him, and you could feel his steady heartbeat against your chest. Remaining in the moment, you focused on the words that The Covey sang.

“Can I call you Rose?

Cause you're sweet like a flower in blue

Can I call you Rose?

Cause your fragrance takes over the room

Darling, I wanna plant you in my heart, oh

So love can grow

Can I call you Rose?

Cause your thorns won't let blood in too soon

Can I call you Rose?

Cause your roots have the power to consume me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as the euphemism within the song hit its poignant note. Speechless, you watched as Coriolanus gingerly pulled away, his piercing crystal blue eyes locking with yours—two souls connected in a wordless exchange, foreheads pressed in a tender moment of silent understanding.

“I love you,” he whispered. Coriolanus slid down onto one knee and took out the silver compact with an engraved rose on it. Revealing the prettiest ring that you had ever seen.

“Will you marry me?”

navigation

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the covey #coriolanus snow x black fem reader #coriolanus snow x black reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #corio snow #coryo snow #⟢DRABBLE #catching fire #mockingjay

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euphemiaamillais · 1 year ago

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modern!buzzcut coryo teaching innocent!reader how to suck his cock the way he likes it :(. and he’s all cocky cause reader’s never seen a dick irl and she praises it like “ur so big, coryo :((“ “it’s so pretty”

coryo is reader’s tutor in university and she’s always had a bit of a crush on him cause he’s so handsome, smart and confident

UGHHH need a little blurb about this pleasee

🎀 anon this is insane tysm for this prompt

mdni | coryo teaches you to suck him off

you’d had the biggest crush on coryo since he’d been assigned to you as your tutor—he was probably the hottest guy you’d ever seen; icy blue eyes, toned arms and a blonde buzzcut. normally you went for the more quiet, boy-next-door type; but you couldn’t help but be attracted to him, there was something about his more dangerous nature that tempted you—that made your core burn.

you two had gotten considerably close compared to the other students he tutored, and one evening he asked you for a private study session at his apartment. you were nervous, but also brimming with excitement. you were only nervous because you really liked him, but you were a virgin and if he tried anything, you were worried you’d be clumsy.

you made sure to look extra nice—and put on your tightest shirt and a tiny mini skirt, hoping he’d catch sight of your lacy underwear if you had to bend over. you even put on a little lipgloss, one that smelled like strawberries.

when you knocked on his door, he was dressed in a white shirt that stretched across his muscular arms and toned chest, and the look he gave you when he cast his gaze over your body made your heart thump. he couldn’t stop looking at your thighs, the way your mini skirt barely stopped past your ass. fuck, were you doing this on purpose?

‘hi coryo,’ you greeted him with a hug, and he got a whiff of your apple shampoo as you wrapped your arms around him.

he had to draw in a deep breath as he felt your boobs pressing against his torso; afraid that the blood would rush to his cock from the way you were being so touchy.

‘i thought we’d work on some political theory,’ he said, trying to distract himself from how fucking good you looked.

you nodded shyly, too consumed by the thought of how big his arms felt around you, how his hands brushed against your waist. you couldn’t believe he was hot and smart—to be honest you didn’t really care much for your political science class but seeing him made you work harder.

as you bounded down the hall to the living room, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the way your little skirt swished against your ass—revealing the pair of lace panties you were wearing. he decided you were definitely trying to do this on purpose.

it was boring, going over different democratic processes, and you felt yourself yawning as he droned on and on. all you could think about was how much you wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss him… or perhaps do more. you’d never seen a cock before, but you wanted to know what it felt like—to suck one, perhaps…

‘are you listening to me?’ you heard the voice of coryo call out, bringing you back to earth.

‘sorry,’ you pursed your lips, casting an apologetic look.

coryo shook his head, but decided to let you off—after all, there were more interesting things he could be doing this evening. your skirt had hiked up around your thighs, and you could see him staring. your cheeks turned pink, embarrassment flooding to them.

‘are you bored?’ he inquired, and you tilted your head ever so slightly.

‘y-yes,’ you admitted, eyes glancing down at your feet.

being aware that he was looking at you had made you nervous—suddenly you felt very conscious of the fact that you were wearing a tiny skirt, and that your shirt was stretching against your breasts. coryo leaned in closer to you, breath brushing against your cheek. you could see desire brimming in his icy gaze, and felt one of his hands snake to your lower back.

‘what do you want to do instead?’ he murmured.

your lip trembled, he was so close to you, his hand moved down to cup your ass—you were so innocent, the way you were bashfully gazing up at him.

‘um…’ a giggle escaped your lips. ‘i don’t know…’

he cocked a brow, smirk crossing his lips. he didn’t believe that, not with the way you were dressed, not with how you didn’t try to push him away when he squeezed your ass.

‘you sure about that?’ you shook your head in response, pretty eyes filled with nervousness. you were waiting for him to say something.

coryo felt his cock hardening as you shifted a little, hand accidentally brushing against his crotch. his lips parted, and he brought your own against them, enveloping you in a kiss. you opened your mouth, letting your tongue brush against his, making pretty noises as he kissed you hotly.

you’d never gone further than a few drunken makeouts with boys, so when you moved into coryo’s lap you were quite surprised at the feeling of something hard poking against your thigh. when you pulled away, cheeks flushed, chest heaving from your pounding heart, he had a lustful look drawn upon his face.

‘look at that, you’ve made me hard,’ coryo whispered against your ear, his hand still pawing at your ass.

‘sorry,’ you were still red, but you felt a wetness beginning to form between your thighs.

‘mhm, i don’t think you’re very sorry, are you princess?’ he teased, nipping at the soft skin of your neck. he wondered if you’d ever been given a hickey before.

‘no…’ you admitted, lashes fluttering.

how cute. the way you were all rosy-cheeked and nervous at the sight of him being hard. he let out a low groan as you moved your hips down against him—unconscious of what you were doing, of course. you only realised what you were doing when you felt his boner pressing right against your cunt.

‘you know… i could get you some extra credit if you do something for me.’ he offered. you perked up at the thought of that—extra credit. you really hated your political science class.

‘what do you want me to do?’ your brows were furrowed, an innocent look painted upon your features.

‘you know how to suck cock?’ he asked, and you shook your head, drawing your lips into a thin line.

you wanted to do it, though. you wanted him so bad that your panties were soaked, and you were sure he could feel it. the way you were moving your hips ever-so-slightly and clenching your thighs to ease the tension.

'course you don't...' he thumbed the flushed skin of your cheeks, a smile creeping upon his lips at the thought of corrupting you. 'gonna teach you how, yeah? i'm your tutor for a reason.'

your eyes widened, and he couldn't help but sigh at how fucking innocent you were. but he saw a level of desperation inside of you too, a need for him and his cock.

'now, princess, you're going to get on your knees, yeah?' his voice was soft as he directed you, pulling you off his lap so you could kneel before him.

when you'd obliged him, you gazed up at him, dumbfounded, and he took your hand and guided it to his bulge. he was so hard—painfully so—and the way you were looking at him, so eager to please, only made him throb all the more.

'see how fucking hard you've made me?' you nodded, giggling with delight as you palmed his clothed cock.

'i wanna suck it now,' you said, a little demanding.

he smirked, and moved your hand to the waistband of his jeans, directing you to unbutton them. you obeyed, and slid his jeans down to reveal his black calvin klein boxers—a man with taste, obviously. he looked even bigger now through his underwear, and you audibly gasped, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth with a hunger.

'is it gonna fit?' you asked anxiously, brows arching.

'course it will, princess,' he remarked, thinking about how much he'd love to see you gagging around him with those pretty pink lips of yours—he loved how they'd tasted of strawberries when you'd kissed him; so deliciously innocent.

you tugged at the waist and of his boxers, and when his cock sprang out your mouth stretched open in shock. he was so big. like, unbelievably big. not that you’d ever seen a cock before but you couldn’t fathom how it was supposed to fit in your mouth. the tip was red and leaning against his shirt until you reached out to grab it with your hand.

‘it’s so pretty,’ you smiled up at him, singing praises.

‘yeah? you wanna put it in your mouth?’ he suggested, and you gnawed nervously at your glossy lips.

‘what exactly do i have to do?’ you inquired, furrowing your brows. you looked so cute and confused that he had to clench his thighs to stop himself coming at the sight of you. that would be humiliating.

‘give the tip a lick, princess,’ he guided, and so you obliged.

you moved your head down, one hand gripping the base. you liked how it felt in your hand, warm and pulsing. you could almost giggle at the feeling, you wanted to take it all the way down your throat so bad but he was just too big. you stuck your tongue out, and gave the tip an experimental lick, licking up all the precum that coated it.

coryo let out a soft groan, moving his hand to smooth your hair as a gesture that you were going well. you licked the tip again, and then gazed up at him, eager to see his response. his mouth was stretched around another sound of pleasure, and his hips twitched ever so slightly at the feeling of your wet tongue.

‘it’s like a lollipop,’ you giggled, and he felt himself throb at your innocence. you just couldn’t help being so cute, could you? so fucking naive that you were in university and you’d never even sucked cock before!

‘now, i want you to take me properly,’ he begun, and you watched as he instructed you. ‘wrap your lips around me, yeah? see how far you can go.’

you obliged, making sure to push your top lip behind your teeth, realising that would probably hurt the sensitive skin of his shaft. you moved your head as far down as you could go, and when he hit the back of your throat you gagged and your eyes welled up with tears automatically.

his cock twitched in your mouth. you’d barely taken in two inches of him and already your mouth was full, lips stretched wide, pretty eyes watering. he watched you attempt to push yourself further, but it was too much, and you gagged again.

‘too big,’ you whined, a few tears trickling down your cheek.

he swiped them away with his thumb, and shook his head.

‘you gotta move your head up and down, princess,’ he guided you back to wrap your lips back around the tip. ‘try use your tongue too, laying it flat against the shaft as you bob your head.’

you moved your tongue against his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down, and watched as he let out a breathy moan. you attempted to take him further again, this time you reached about half way before gagging and having to pull him out.

‘i’m sorry,’ you whimpered, but he simply stroked your cheek and beamed down at you.

‘you’re doing so well, princess. you can use your hand if the rest won’t fit,’ he murmured, and you gave a nod of understanding.

you used one hand to grip the base while the other stroked him up and down, and wrapped your lips back around his cock. it was easier now, you didn’t have to worry about taking the other half—and it was a big half—down your throat, so you laved at him as much as you could, saliva coating his veiny cock.

‘fuck,’ he groaned, feeling his balls tighten as your tongue slid over a particularly sensitive vein.

your eyes rolled back as you pushed him to the back of your throat, hollowing out your cheeks so as much of him could fit. your core flooded with heat, you loved having his cock in your mouth so much. you adjusted your hips a little to try and ease the tension, but it was no use, so you just had to put up with the dull ache as you continued to suck him off.

coryo moved your hand at the base of his cock, and guided it to his balls. you fondled them gently, watching as his features were dancing with satisfaction, eyes fluttering prettily.

‘good girl,’ he said between groans. ‘taking my cock so well, so good…’

you smiled best you could, though it was hard with his cock down your throat. you felt him throbbing in your mouth, and pulled him out for a brief second so you could move your tongue up and down his shaft.

‘want you to come in my mouth,’ you informed him with an impish grin, moving to slide your tongue down the underside of his cock.

‘wasn’t planning on coming anywhere else… yet,’ he laughed softly, threading his fingers through your hair as you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock.

he was close, hips bucking into your palm as one hand massaged his balls. you were a quick learner, which was surprising considering you were quite the opposite when it came to political science. perhaps he’d just have to tutor you in this, instead.

‘mhm, gonna…’ his mouth stretched around another groan. ‘come.’

your lips were wrapped around him once again, and with an elegant thrust he emptied himself in your mouth. hot spurts of cum trickled onto your tongue and down your throat, the pearly stuff tasting slightly salty.

you giggled, pulling him out and watching the excess dribble from his tip. you opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out, showing him all the cum that pooled on it.

‘swallow it,’ he commanded.

you obliged, feeling it trickle down your throat. you poked your tongue out again and took the head—which was now extremely sensitive—licking up the rest of the stuff from his leaky tip.

‘so good,’ you moaned, swallowing it all down.

he couldn’t believe how hot you were, plump lips wet with saliva, your eyes gazing at him as you swallowed every last drop of his cum.

‘i’ll make sure you get an A on this assignment,’ he smiled, pulling you up to sit in his lap.

‘of course, that’s after i tutor you in something else…’

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