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etfrin · 10 months

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⤷❝Jealous, jealous girl | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, toxic relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, fucked up thoughts, toxic! jealous! possessive reader, bondage (eyes and hands), dom sub undertones, face riding, cunnilingus, thigh riding, riding, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), mentions of killing | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young! president Snow x fem! reader

⇢☾Summary: being jelly leads to sexy times!

⇢☾A/N: hope y'all enjoy this!

previous installments of AM au: the study, mine to love, the quiet gift

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

He didn't take account of your possessiveness when he decided to charm some of the elitists of the Capitol. It was his duty to keep them under his pocket whether it be with empty smiles or deadly threats. Though the latter might have been easier with how you were glaring at everyone who made a passing or suggestive comment towards Coriolanus.

Even with his arm around your waist, you pressed against him wasn't enough to satiate you. His presence wasn't enough to calm you down, not when you wanted to burn down everyone in the gala who looked at Snow with lustful eyes. He was taken. He was your husband. Yours.

Coryo didn't realize what was wrong, surely it was obvious that you were in a bad mood but that was no way to behave. He had to talk with his pet.

And he was planning on that when he entered the room, to see you on the phone, a call that you immediately cut and look at him with a smile that cut through his bones because he knew it was fake. It was a smile he had to wear a thousand times and now you were looking at him the same way.

“What was that call?” He asked roughly, his eyebrows furrowing, his fingers twitching, his mind already thinking of locking you up and wondering if you had found a lover. He- he-

“It was just-” You tilt your head, your mind already figuring out his thoughts, your first instinct was to lie. However, you knew better than that.

“I want to fuck someone over,” you said instead, blunt and straight to the point without any riddles so that your husband doesn't overthink it. He.. he felt himself calm down a bit. “Who?” He asked his mind at ease. Has someone hurt you? Insulted you? It was rare for you to take such actions, especially when Coriolanus made sure no one could mistreat you.

You bite your lower lip, wondering if you should lie. Snow hadn't seen your ugly side as much as you have seen him. But… perhaps it's about time he should and you were angry. At him and everyone who dared their lustful eyes and filthy hands on your man (You wanted to claw their eyes out, you wanted to cut their hand off for such a sin). Corio called you his dove, his pet, his property. But he seems to forget that he is also yours, your husband, your lover, your man. It was time to remind him of that.

You walked towards him until he backed up to the door, it was a position that you both knew except he was the one pinned for a change. “A bitch,” you ended up saying, your fingertips grazing his sharp jawline. His eyes widened, a familiar heaviness to his breathing and his pupils began to dilate. “Which bitch?” He said, turning his face away to focus and not kiss your pretty lips. “The one who couldn't take her hands off what's mine,” you whispered, your hands on his customized suit, pushing the fabric away from his shoulder and letting it fall. Then your fingers were busy twisting the buttons so you could see this man's golden skin, but the action was stopped when Corio softly asked, “Yours?”

Even if his tone was soft, you knew better than to believe it. Coriolanus Snow belonging to someone? He couldn't think of a worse joke, that just made you even more frustrated, so frustrated that you don't bother unbuttoning his buttons. You begin to rip them one by one. Coryo allows you to act in this manner, knowing that you need to deal with this in your own way.

“I am not yours,” he said, “I don't belong to you.” You wanted to slap the man. You never had a greater urge too before. You clenched your jaw, “You are.” Your hand goes to the pendant you always wore after your first anniversary. A necklace with his initials.

“It’s a two-way street, Coriolanus Snow. You're my husband, my man, and my lover. I am yours as much as you are mine,” your fingers grip the chain, “Or I can tear this from my neck and walk away.” Coryo was going to punish you for those words, there was no doubt about it. His eyes, those blue ocean eyes had anger in them now. How dare you threaten, Snow?

You waited for an answer, both of your chests heaving with passion waiting to explode. “Threaten to leave again, I'll break those legs of yours and chain you to the bed.” Your breath hitches from his words, the truth ringing in his voice. This insane man… you had no words to say so you didn't. You pressed him to the door, your lips clashing with his. For the first time, you didn't give in to the fight for dominance. Both of your teeth clashing, the tongues fighting in war and neither side winning but becoming a greater mess.

“You're a coward, Coryo,” you whispered as you were pushed back to the bed, neither of you giving up the fight to control the kiss. You refused to be underneath him for him tonight. Coriolanus Snow owned you and you wanted the taste of owning him. You manage to straddle him, saliva covering both of your chins from the messy kiss neither refusing to break.

“You- how dare you let her touch you like this,” you whispered, a hint of insecurity creeping into your sound. “They can look at you all they want, envy all they want but touch is reserved for me only. For me, Coryo. Next time it's brought to my attention that you let yourself be groped like that whether it be for your interests or Panem. Rest assured they won't be seeing the sun again and every inch of your skin that was touched…” You couldn't complete the threat, not when his eyes widened. Coriolanus felt like he was looking in a mirror.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hissed, “There is a reason why we work out, sweetheart. It's not because of whatever formulas you have in your mind to control me, to have me. It's because I am just as insane as you, if not more but I have an infinite amount of control over myself.”

He was thinking, thinking of what you didn't know. You didn't want to know what epiphany had crushed the man from your honest words filled with ugly deep jealousy. You didn't want to let yourself wonder either if he would have preferred someone sane, someone less jealous and possessive. Someone opposite of him in every regard.

But Snow leans forward to kiss you. It's… delicate the kiss. A brush of his soft lips against yours, a grin blessing his face. “What?” You whispered, hesitantly. “You’re perfect,” he said, and those words did things to you, nearly enough to melt away your anger. Nearly.

“And your perfection is aggravating,” you said, with each word a kiss was pressed to his lips. “I love you,” you whispered, a wet kiss pressed to his jaw that went down the path of his neck to his pulse. Your hands shamelessly undress him. “But you truly vex me, Coryo.” you let out as you bite the spot of his pulse, sucking his life from his skin, formatting a bruise, marking him as yours.

“Calm down,” he grunts as he also undresses you, his touch on your heated skin damning you to hell. “I am here, pet.” Finally, both of you were unrestricted by clothes, lips clashing with each other as the hands roamed the body in a hurry. Neither of you was going to disappear, but the desperation as if one of you would slip away like sand clawed at both of your minds.

You didn't reply to his reassurance, you pushed him till his back was pinned on the mattress and he let you. For once you were in control and you had no idea what to do with it. You bite your lip, pondering what should be the next course. You wanted to ride him, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to regret it. But most importantly you wanted him to realize he is addicted to you too, as you are with him.

So you pulled back, ignoring the flash of confusion on his face, and went to the closet to pick out two ties. One red, another black, both gifts from you. Coryo raised his eyebrows but indulged you without saying a word, knowing that he would get you back for it. You let him sit up, as you tied his hands together behind his back and then tied the blindfold around his eyes.

“Let me play with you today, Coryo,” you said, “It will be fun.” Coryo replied with a warning, “Do not cross the line.”

You were never an obedient pet. You placed your cunt on his thigh, your folds soaking with arousal, your walls needing his cock but you ignored the want as you began to grind yourself slowly against the tense muscles of his leg. “Coriolanus Snow, the perfect man, the perfect student, the perfect president. Tell me Coryo, would you consider yourself a perfect husband?” “Sweetheart,” he warns you, not ready to hear whatever criticism you want to spew. He could never be a perfect man, perfect in the sense of good and bad. He couldn't but that doesn't mean he has to face it.

“I think you are,” you whispered to his ear, causing him to relax visibly, it was rather pathetic how quickly your admission of yours made his cock fucking hard, harder than before. Your pussy continues to grind against his thigh, your hips rolling at a relaxed pace as you coat his skin in your juices. “You’re perfect in every sense of the word,” you praised him, your lips set on creating multiple shades of mark on his shoulder and collarbone.

He didn't need your words, he didn't know your praises yet a groan escaped his lips. His breath is heavier than before as your grinding gets faster. “Let me see you,” he whispered, and you wanted to deny him. You did but you knew he wanted to know if you were lying, manipulating him in any manner and you weren't cruel enough to play that game with him. You took off the blindfold from his eyes and the vulnerability that showed in his blue eyes made you so wet, your pussy clenching around nothing and he could feel the spasm on his thigh.

His eyes search yours for a hint of a lie, he doesn't find any. Both of your lips met for a kiss, knocking us breathless as you wrapped your arms around his neck and began to roll your hips faster on his thigh, getting close to a high. Meanwhile, his cock was leaking onto his abs, thick goops of pre-cum that you swipe on your fingertips and lick as you don't give any attention to his length. A sound you couldn't classify leaves Coriolanus's lips as he watches you taste himself.

It felt perfect, you teasing him like this. You are in control, despite Coriolanus' not-so-subtle attempts to get rid of the knot that tied his hands together. ‘I am in control, love,’ you wanted to say but you bite your tongue instead and sucked on the sweet spot of his jaw. “Wanna sit on your face,” you whispered to him.

“Fuck, fuck, dove” he cursed before he nods. You maneuver him into the position, your cunt mere inches from his greedy mouth that had already started teasing your folds with kitten licks that you mewling with need. “Coryo,” you whispered, pleading to be completely honest as you lowered yourself down onto his face. His tied arms above his head, your fingers laced with his (the safe word being three squeezes if you end up suffocating him). Your pussy finally reached its destination, finding his lips and his tongue. The slaughter of your sanity had begun.

He was so messy with this, it surprised your soul. His licks weren't long and calculated per usual but short, teasing like that had you bucking your hips onto his face. You try to be careful, you swear you do but all was lost in your hazy pleasure. You moan his name, again and again, and Coriolanus gets high off it. The power you hand him without realizing, the control you give him of your pleasure.

“Coryo!” you cry out, your movements getting fervent. You were close to snapping from riding his thigh, from the high and adrenaline of the situation. It wasn't hard to shatter, your cunt gushing out juices as your walls began to spasm. The orgasm turns your bones into jelly but you have work to do. You have shattered but you yet hadn't broken Snow.

Coryo hums against your folds, licking all the juices up, nipping and kissing your clit with such attention, it sends shivers down your spine. You pulled yourself off of his face, and your pussy begins to ache again because of how debauched he looks. His mouth gasping, his face shining with your arousal all over his chin, beads of your juices dripping down his skin. You closed your eyes, getting your senses back to you.

You let out a shaky breath yourself and you bring him back to a sitting position, one of your hands on his nape and another finding his cock. He lets out a groan of relief and pleasure as you squeeze his girth with your fist. You stroke his cock several times and coat his length with his pre-cum. “Gonna ride you, baby,” you whispered to him, your lips meeting his, and you moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself.

You placed yourself on his lap, one of your hands going to his tied wrists, playing with the knots unaware that a lot of it has come loose. You don't even realize it as you were too busy sinking on his cock, your other hand in his hair, gripping the blonde curls rather roughly.

Coryo leans forward, pushing his face between your breasts, his tongue licking stripes of your salty skin and his teeth digging into the sides of your supple flesh making you let out a sharp moan. Your hold on his hair gets tighter, as you adjust to his twitching length inside of your sensitive walls. His lips catch the pendant, the only thing you are still wearing. You look down to watch him suck the ‘S’ in his mouth and you whimper from the sight, your pussy clenching around his cock.

By now your fiddling with his tied wrists had completely untied the knots, something you didn't realize as you became drunk on him. You place your head on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips. Snow lets you control the pace, not letting you know he is free of his bounds. He takes and takes whatever you give him even as his balls tighten with the urge to come. He bites his lower lip to stave off the urge. Second by second, minute by minute passes as your bodies get hotter and hotter, waiting to burn the brightest.

“Coryo,” you begin to whisper, “You're mine, right?” This time the insecurity in your voice was clear, something that would make you cringe later. This time Coriolanus takes control.

His hands find themselves kneading the flesh of your hips, stopping you from fucking yourself on his cock. You freeze in surprise, your eyes widening. “It’s our wedding ring I wear every day. If that doesn't hold any value to you. Don't you dare ask me that question again?”

“Now fucking cum on my cock, pet,” he said, his eyes turning into snake-like slits, “Don't think I'll forget of your behavior tonight, baby.” You swallow nervously, but Coryo says he is yours, not in those exact words but it was Coryo, he was never known for straight words anyway.

You begin to ride him again, picking up pace as you keep slamming down on his cock, his cockhead kissing your cervix from this position. Your hands go to his shoulder to use as leverage as you continue to fuck yourself on him. “My love,” you moan as you felt yourself getting close over the edge, from how his dick was throbbing inside your cunt, you could tell he was close too. He wedges a hand between the both of your connecting bodies and his fingers find your puffy oversensitive clit and he begins to play with the bud making you cry out.

“That's it, dove,” he whispered, smirking, “Cum on my cock, you're the only one in this entire universe with that privilege.” You whimper, feeling your pussy spasm on his cock repeatedly as all the tension leaves your body. He shallowly thrusts into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

You turn into jelly on his lap, your cunt twitching occasionally from oversensitivity. He turns you over so you are laid down on the bed, and he hooks up your legs on his shoulders.

He leans down, his hand gripping your jaw as his lips brush against yours and he says, “Time for your punishment, doll. You had your chance to indulge, my pet. It's my turn now.”

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964 @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived

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seduzist · 10 months

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illusion of control.

coriolanus snow x fem! reader

cw: sub/dom dynamics, degradation, manipulation (?), toxic relationships, a little bit of dubcon if you squint, size difference (?)

based on this video (p*rn link).

it was an illusion. just a silly little trick that always worked with you.

coryo kissed you gently when you straddled his lap, caressing your back with his big hands, taking away all your nervousness with his touches, feeling your soft smile against his lips and joking to himself about how much of a silly little thing you were.

and then, the show begins, you fits his cock on your entry, slowly taking inch by inch, hugging his neck while doing so.

“you’re doing so good baby, so good.” he whispers, naturally, like praising your performance was the only thing in his mind, but it wasn’t.

when you finally took all of him, you took a deep breath and started to slightly bounce your body on his lap, that was always one of his favorite parts, see you tries so hard something that for him was so easy, he could easily just hold your waist in place and buck his hips up, fuck you as he pleases, put you under his control.

and it lasted less than 3minutes for him to lose all his patience, get tired of his own little game and embraced your thin waist with his arms.

he started to move you like a rag doll, bringing you up and down on his cock, he was stronger than you, enough to just move your whole body like it was nothing.

“s-slow down, coryo!” you exclaimed, overwhelmed by the sensation.

it was like you couldn’t even fully understand what was happening, and coriolanus always find this the most loving thing about you, like he always said that you were just a “dumb little girl” who needed him to do the thinking for you, so you always lets him uses your body, show you off like a trophy, pick your clothes and the way you do your hair, because he knows what’s best for you.

“shh, shut up and take it, my little whore.” even the harshest words sounded gentle to you, his swearing almost felt like a praise.

so you did as you were told, like you always do, like a good girl, taking whatever he tells you to.

#coriolanus snow x you #coryo x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #x female reader #x fem!reader #fem!reader

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divineidolatry · 8 months

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CONSTANTLY IN THE DARKNESS — CHAPTER 1

— written by june.

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader*

rating: explicit (18+) — mind the tags, see masterlist for disclaimers

summary: against your wishes, you call the curtain on your relationship with coriolanus snow and walk out of his life for good. against your wishes, he waltzes back in like nothing's changed.

tags: exes to lovers, it's complicated, slow burn but they're constantly fucking, manipulation, toxic relationship, power play, unprotected sex, bdsm, dom!coriolanus, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, spit kink, bondage, pearl play, choking, shoe riding, degradation, dirty talk, brat taming, penetrative sex (piv), aftercare

taglist: comment on the masterlist to be added to the taglist.

wordcount: 4,352

just before our love got lost you said "i am as constant as a northern star" and i said "constantly in the darkness, where's that at? if you want me i'll be in the bar."

“Coriolanus…” You drop the silver cutlery on the fine porcelain, the sound sharp enough that he winces. Good. This should hurt him as much as it hurts you. “What are we even doing anymore?”

His face holds that cold expression you can’t read, beautiful and impossible, a question you saw the first day you met him and you knew you wanted to crack him open.

You always knew he had ambition, and you possessed plenty to match. Power called to you from an early age, you’d just gotten smarter about you grabbed it. Still, he made you better. He made you sharper. And in turn, you could make him look soft enough to please.

But the parts of you that slotted together like perfect gears before had grown jagged and mismatched now. His ambitions mean more than you. They come before you. A part of you thinks it would be okay if he still made room for you at the end of the night, but it’s all perfunctory and dutiful.

“We need to talk. Actually talk.”

It’s not for a lack of trying to understand him, but there’s walls in Coryo that shift position, closing him off when you’re not careful enough. Talking with him turns into talking to him. He never did share much, even when you made it clear that you supported his ambitions, never troubling him with your own. You’re big girl, after all, independent and capable, you can hold your own value and underscore his. You know how to charm the worst of them and flatter the best of them, you are an asset beyond compare and yet he’s losing interest. Galling.

“I’ve been loyal, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I’ve kept clean in public so you can defile me in private. I play your game so well, and yet…” You flick your finger against the crystal wine glass, lipstick stains rimming the edge. You dressed to the nines tonight, giving him a last chance to look at you, at everything you offered him as a partner in every sense of the word. “You make me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

His silence hangs heavy and painful in the air between you two. There’s something so pristine and perfect about the room that itches in your gut, that sometimes makes you want to take the knife and stab him through the back of his hand just to see if he’d even flinch.

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?”

Oh, how icy his gaze is. It cuts right through you, past all your defenses.

These dinners, once bubbling with conversation and excited plans about the next chance you’d have to shift the board, have turned to quiet and perfunctory affairs now. He meets your eyes less and less on the university campus. You spend hours waiting for him in the quiet hallways on the top floor no one goes to, doing your seminar readings in the same hidden alcove where he once liked to make you moan so high a rumor had spread of a ghost haunting.

It doesn’t matter to you that he is busy, it mattered that he stopped including you, that he didn’t even try. And you can’t get through to him. It’s getting sad — worse, stale. On top of that, people are talking. Gossip loud enough that you could hear it from the back rows in lecture halls, of discord between Panem’s golden future and his leading lady. Bad metrics for both of you… and it fucking stings too.

His heart isn’t in your mouth anymore, and you are beginning to starve. And he’d let you.

You fold up the napkin, dropping it on top of the half-finished meal, knowing the waste will irk him. Whatever hook you still have in him you will pull on. You must. You refuse to go down without damages.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? It’s easier this way, me deciding to leave you, that way you won’t have to clean up the mess. That’s why you’ve been so cold, right?”

He doesn’t speak. Pushing the chair out, you get up and walk the length of the table, your heels clicking loud against the marble. You move close to him, press your body against his and feel the heat of his breath on your skin… but his expression does not shift, and you shake your head with a pained noise catching in your throat.

“I don’t think you are this cold,” you whisper, slipping your hand in under his shirt, pressing your fingers against his chest. His heart beats hard and strong. “I hope you realize when I’m gone…” You trail off, struggling with the words.

Silence. Again. He’s leaning back in the chair, watching you try to reconcile this… and he is letting you flounder. Has he allowed you to ask for his time with the intention to give you nothing? The cruelty in that hurts even worse.

“Goodbye, Coriolanus.” You press a soft kiss to his cheek, scraping your nails over his skin, hoping it stings as much as his icy silence does. You gather your bag and coat, and leave his penthouse quietly.

In the elevator, you wipe at an errant tear. The air around you feels crushing but you cannot give in under pressure. You won’t.

For a few days, you don’t cry. You had foreseen this outcome to the conversation after all, made your preparations to leave as little behind as possible, and fortified yourself to understand that no matter how perfect a match you seemingly were for each other, you still actively had to choose one another. Whatever had consumed him also kept him from letting you in as he used to, and it meant he was no longer choosing you.

The barb still lodged itself deep in your chest, leaking poison all the same.

You go through the motions, brushing your hair, washing your face, studying. It’s in one of the lectures, the professor slipping through the lackluster material, that it hits like a fist between the ribs, and you clutch at your side remembering how Coryo would have made this make sense to you. It hits all at once how he’s not there, won’t be, he’s not going to make even the dullest media history class shine bright anymore.

When the tears come, it is Clemensia who wipes them away, lets your head rest in her lap, and offers to fetch the rest of your things. She was his friend first; you’d been a year under them in the Academy. When she comes back she doesn’t say if he reacted, though you doubt he was even at home. She strokes your hair, assuring you she won’t pick a side. Through all her care of you in the weeks to come, she proves her words, not letting you flinch away in public.

“Just because he plays a good game,” she reminds you, “doesn’t mean you can’t make a better move.”

You slowly get back on your feet, keeping her words in mind. She helps with applying your makeup on days when your hands are too shaky, keeping your perfectly crafted mask in place. She glues herself to your side as you attend classes, keeping it cordial with Coriolanus while your gaze slips past him. You forgot how good it felt to be someone’s priority.

“Why are you being so nice about this?” you ask one night, exasperated as she’s getting you ready for a party, squirming in your seat. You don’t feel ready for re-emerging into society, but what choice do you have? Crawl into a hole and vanish? You’d never give him the pleasure.

She rolls her eyes and gets up off the floor to fetch a dusty bottle of posca from the shelves.

“It’s not that different,” she says, handing a glass over to you. “I was in his corner too, and it bit me. Hard.” She grimaces, scratching at her wrist before rolling down the sleeve over her hands.

“Did you two…” You have wondered, after all, jealousy flickering at times like a dangerous question mark.

“Not like that! I just needed him to show up for me, to do this one thing, and he was busy chasing his own greatness.”

It's a relief to hear, mostly because you have an easier time believing her than him. “But you got over it.”

“I can’t fault him. If you’re here, it means something, and it’s not always flattering.” She wrinkles her nose at the posca even as she drinks it down. “When you want something so bad because you need to make sense of the world, to bring some sense of order to the chaos of life… I know you get it. He’s always been this way, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Her words are just a whisper as she pins curls in place on your head, her hand lingering to trace your chin as she examines your face.

Clemensia had taken a liking to doing these little things for you, drawing from a deep well of knowledge she’d amassed. It had become an outlet for her, creativity to couple with her own ambition. She liked to practice different looks on you before paring them down to a more fitting style suitable to current trends, but each flourish of her brush warmed your skin.

You knew that duality well — of wanting to create and struggling to find the time and place. Ever since you were small, your parents had clung to the idea that singing lessons and dance classes were of utmost importance, even keeping them going during the war. They wanted you to excel, rise in standing, and it had honed you.

Unbidden, one of his old comments floats up in your mind, making your breath stutter. ‘You have the prettiest voice of all the girls in Panem, do you know that?’ And while you scoffed then, your ego bloomed under his praise. ‘Tell me more about how much you love my voice, Coryo…’

“Hey… come back to me, you better not ruin the hard work I’ve just done, I don’t do hard work for just anyone, you know?” Clemmie teases, but you can see a stern look in her eyes. You don’t have a lot of time, and she isn’t keen to waste it. “We have somewhere to be soon, okay?”

You nod. She’s right. The Capitol’s numerous galas and grand events throughout the year had kept going despite your broken heart, and tonight is the Rose Ball, an extravagant gala held in the grand conservatory with an orchestra playing and the guest list consisting of only the names of the highest esteem in the Capitol. And your name was still on it. Tonight, you intend to make sure it isn’t the last invite sent your way, no matter what.

Clemensia finishes with a lipstick red as wine, smiling as she puts her hands on your shoulders and turns you to the mirror.

“Look at you,” she says, tilting your chin up so the light catches the pearlescent shimmer dusted on your skin. “Everyone will be falling for you. And he will have no choice but to watch what he lost.”

You shiver in excitement.

You share the ride with some people Clemensia knows, and while they gossip away, you sit alone with your thoughts, the mask wavering for a moment. This is the first formal gathering you’re attending since the split… Several months of picking up the pieces to pretend like everything’s fine, to recoup as much of your image as possible, while still doing him the courtesy to not hurt his. You have been so good, and still people look at you as if you made a mistake and not him.

Tonight would be harder to find a bathroom to tuck away into, an empty study room to make your safe haven. No cover to hide behind, so you needed to don the appropriate armor, to appear unaffected. To tell a tale to outdo his. After all, Clemensia’s right, everyone can be made to want you. You will move on, and you will make him regret it while you do. You will remind him that your heart isn’t a delicate plaything, but a fire furious enough to match his.

You play with the pearls around your neck, the matching gold and pearl earrings bouncing against your cheek as the car passes over cobblestoned streets. They are the very same Coriolanus gifted you on your first anniversary, and weighted with memories. You thought about throwing them away immediately after the break-up, but that would have said something about him winning, and you can’t stand that.

Clemensia, hawk-eyed as ever, notices your nervous fiddling and nudges your foot with hers right as the car pulls up to the entrance. “Shall we then?” Clemensia offers you her arm and you take it gratefully. You revel in the sync of your heels clicking as you ascend the hard steps to your most important battlefield yet.

Past the heavy gilded doors, the gala’s milling crowd slows down as you enter, eyes drawn to you. You hold your head high, gripping Clemensia’s arm tight. No one here will get the pleasure of seeing you flinch. They announce your names, and you smile, brilliant and beautiful. The corset underneath your rose-red dress keeps your back straight, reminiscent of old elegances that has the old garde softening for you.

You think you spot him on the far end of the room, but the shadows are long and the lights dimmed. His gaze feels a certain way though, and there’s a wicked warmth in your chest that only he has ever made you feel.

“I’m going to do reconnaissance,” Clemensia says as she gives your hand a squeeze. “Let me get the lay of the land.”

“Go, go.” You wave her off, confidently stepping into a circle that parts to let you in amongst them, laughing at the right time. If there is one dance you know better than any other, it is this: the social graces and manners expected of you in these cutthroat places, where the marble runs red with lies and blood. Your heels know where to step even when sleepwalking.

While your mask does not waver, you sure feel bare under all the scrutiny, hungry gazes roving over every bared slip of skin on your arms. After what feels like hours of compliments, cruelties and layered comments, you find a brief escape in an alcove on the second floor, rubbing at your sore ankles as you catch your breath, head spinning. Roses weigh in on all sides of you, enchanting and heady. If you had to say something nice, it’s that Coriolanus knows how to work with the best event planners the Capitol has to offer.

You rip off a handful of petals, crushing them until the fragrant oils spill forth, and press them down the front of your dress before you get up to continue mingling.

The night is long: a dance with the Featherpillow boy a year your junior who easily dances circles around most of the men here; a glass of champagne with the Fairweather twins as you chat about the latest fashion trends and they enviously compliment your pearls; Clemensia whisking you away to a polite and stiff conversation with the Ravenstills. The night goes on for some time in this manner, gliding between dances, advances, and gossip. No one can seem to keep you in one place.

And everywhere you go, you feel the constant, unrelenting pierce of eyes on you. Not just the masses… his.

You are showing him up. Everyone knows it. Coming to his event with seemingly no hard feelings, dressed like a classical painting, fielding every conversation with natural ease and charisma. Everyone wants to see you, talk to you, be seen with you. It’s a move that will have lesser men folding their hands.

Coryo isn’t.

There’s no shortage of attention in his corner, the constant requests for a word from important political seats and fellow society greats, and invitations to dance which he only takes when you do. The undertow between you is palpable. He is an inevitability, you can feel it when you draw close during dances, gazes brushing past each other.

He is throwing you off, little by little, his smile blistering bright and dangerous across the room, and he catches you looking. Just once. And once is all he needs.

You swipe a glass of posca from a passing waiter, knocking it back in one go. This wasn’t part of your plan.

It definitely isn’t a part of the plan that Coriolanus appears in front of you, taking the empty glass away from you with a cool smile.

“May I have the next dance?” he asks, voice perfectly warm and polite. Every single eye watches the two of you with rapt attention as he offers his hand out to you.

He knows you can’t turn him down now, and he is relishing in it. His eyes are lit up, a fire in them you have not seen in months. You put your hand in his, beaming up at him.

“It would be my pleasure,” you say, dragging out the last word until it drips like daggers from your lips.

The two of you assume the starting position, you with one hand in his, the other on his shoulder, and you can’t help but notice that it is all too comfortable a role to slip back into: the perfect pair, polished and primed for the show. A lone pianist begins to play, and you recognize the tune as one of your very favorites… one you played for Coriolanus more than once on the grand piano in his penthouse.

Maintaining a polite expression, you shoot him a look. “Did you request this piece?”

“It’s your favorite, is it not?” He keeps it civil. More than civil, he keeps it warm, saccharine sweet even as he continues to lead you without a single misstep while giving the audience a perfect dance.

“I thought you’d forget about me,” you say, testing the waters. “Like you do to everyone who no longer interests you.”

“You think I’d be that cruel?”

“I know you would be.”

A hum rumbles in his chest and you feel it against your body, heating your cheeks. The dance goes on, gliding and spinning, the room growing dizzying either from the drinks or the way he won’t drop eye contact with you.

This much attention from him was not the plan, definitely not the goal, and as the tempo slows for the twinkling end of the piece, you think you might fall over if not for the sheer adrenaline coursing through you… and the firmness of his grip, fingers digging into the back of your corset.

As the music falls quiet, there’s a brief moment where you could hear a pin drop, the tension in the air releasing as the audience applauds. You blush, bowing to him, simmering with the dual-edged feeling of having been made a spectacle of — and a part of you enjoyed it because it was him doing it.

He offers his arm to you and you hesitate, wanting to search out Clemensia in the crowd, but with the expectant eyes still on you, it’s hardly the time to turn him down.

Shit.

You take his arm with trepidation, chewing the inside of your cheek as he leads you to the upper level of the conservatory. As you pass by Clemensia you shoot her a pleading glance, but she cannot save you, and you both know it.

He knows the place like the back of his hand and leads you to a tucked-away alcove crowned with rose arches. The plush settee is comfortable but small, and you wind up pressed against his side when you sit down. Worse still, it’s like he delights in tormenting you as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in.

“Did you enjoy doing that?” With a gentle huff, you finally speak your mind, voice hushed. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath, of his entire body, and yours never forgot how good he could make you feel, aching for him like a traitor. “Did you want to make a fool of me?”

He does nothing to assuage the pained curiosity of your words, tutting as he reaches up to finger one of your earrings. “No need. You and I can both agree you made plenty spectacle of yourself all on your own tonight, darling.”

You hold back from chewing him out, refusing to align his glance to his. It always frustrated him back then and it still does, as he moves his hand to your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Hard time letting go?”

He knows just how to stoke the fire in you. “Of you? Never.”

“As you say.” He rubs the fabric of your skirt between his fingers. “You seemed all too comfortable letting everyone reach out to pull you around tonight, truly playing the belle of the ball, hm?”

“That’s how the Capitol landscape is and you know it. I was not trying to upstage you.”

He tuts at that. “You think that is why I’m upset?”

You furrow your brow. “What else would it be?”

“Because for all your flitting about tonight…” He lowers his voice, and you lean in instinctively. “You wouldn’t have deigned to give me the time had I not put you on the spot.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your mental game board in disarray. “You’re jealous?”

You’ve learned to not cry over him anymore. Even when it hurts, when the three years down the drain remind themself like a splinter under your nail, you’ve learned better control than that. But this time, you feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes. When one slides down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb.

Damn it, damn him, damn it all. You swallow.

“After everything, you are jealous? I didn’t even come here with someone else.”

“You came here with Clemensia.”

“Yes, a friend.”

“She was my friend first.”

“Oh, don’t be a child.”

You roll your eyes, slapping his chest. He holds your hand there, and when the first feeling that runs through your heart is a sliver of hope, you know you’re done for.

“I’ve missed you.”

Check mate.

He wins again.

You try to pull away, but he resists, pressing you closer into him. For all that hurt, all the frustration, when you look into his eyes, when your gaze flits down to his lips, you still want to crush his lips with yours, to slot right into his life like you never left, and that thought gnaws at you. You hate yourself for it. And your mask is not that strong…

“You really could have thought about that earlier, Coriolanus. You had every opportunity.”

He seems content with not elaborating on why he froze you out, left you in the dark, and it frustrates you. His only response, in fact, is to act on the heat of the moment, pulling you into a kiss.

It’s greedy and hungry and he bites at your lower lip, causing you to whine. His lips are soft and taste of sugary pastries and finely aged wines and oh, it would be so easy to fall head first into how good it feels, how much you missed this, to climb on his lap right here…

You lick into his mouth, wanting all you can take before you part from him, unable to forget where you are, that there is no privacy in this place, and that you can’t risk everything for him — however badly you want to. When you pull away, you see the mess you’ve made of him, lipstick on the corners of his mouth, and it thrills to know he’s made one of you too.

“Not here,” you say. But it isn’t a no. It’s hardly a stop. It’s a challenge and you desperately want him to rise to it.

He waves over one of his attendants to assist in making you both presentable, leaving you in the seat once he is taken care of. You hold back a protest, ready to settle back into the shadows of his ambition, but then overhear him whispering about “ready the car” and “make sure they have a good time” before he turns back to you. There’s the fire that could burn the whole of the Capitol down if he wanted it. There’s the hunger that could have you willing to offer him of yourself just to sate him. It leaves you speechless. It leaves you burning.

He whisks you away out the back entrance to the waiting car and once seated in the back, partitions pulled up, you spare no time climbing on top of him, arms wrapping around his neck.

He fingers your earrings again, hand trailing down to your necklace. “Our first anniversary, hmm? Do you remember why I had the rose engraved in the gold?”

You aren’t interested in reminiscing anymore, you want the present moment, you want to burn your mouth on his. You kiss him again, rocking against him as you do, relishing in the way he tightly grabs your hips, helps you keep grinding down as he lifts up the skirt higher, skimming the top of your thigh-high stockings.

“Missed you too.” Your breath is hot and ragged against his skin.

You look over his face, bodies still slowly rocking together, and when your semi-glazed eyes meet his, you see nothing but fire, dangerous and warming, everything you have ever wanted from him. In a craze, you find yourself begging.

“Please… make me yours again.” It’s a romantic notion, and it will haunt you come morning, but now you are nothing but a bundle of nerves and want, all ripe for his picking.

“Patience,” he breathes against your neck, his lips on the pearls. “We’re almost there.”

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #corionlanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games

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littlemissmiller · 3 months

Text

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Pairing: drug dealer!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: (au) Graduation is here and Coriolanus is ready to just get the day over with. After the ceremony, The Plinth’s hold a lunch party at their house and you being there has Coriolanus’s mind in knots. All he can think about is what’s underneath your dress…

Warning: 21+ (smoking, drug uses/ mentions of drug use) eventually smut, mentions of masturbation (m receiving), semi-public, bathroom foreplay, slight dom!reader jealously, slight obsession, possession, toxic relationship, slight stalking

Word count: 5k

A/N: hi! sorry this second ch took so long. i promise the next one will be here quicker tho. this new ch tho really turns up the heat like 🥵 god coriolanus is such a horny little boy in this one and wants it sooooo bad….so enjoy ❣︎

Series Masterlist | Playlist

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Coriolanus dresses himself for graduation. He buttons his crisp, white dress shirt. It had been neatly and freshly ironed that morning by his grandmother. The smell of eggs and bacon waft into his room and Tigris pops in with a plate.

“Hey cus, oh Coryo…” She starts then notices him now fully dressed in his white button up and slacks. She's holding a plate of breakfast and a cup of coffee, but sets it on his desk and rushes to him. She has the overwhelming urge to hug him, but doesn’t want to mess up his attire. Tigris dusts off the tops of his shoulders and grips him lightly.

“Oh look at you. Does it fit right?”

“Of course. Thanks again, now the sleeves fit perfectly.” He remarks, stretching out his arms to show off her own seamstress work to her.

Having Tigris away in New York these days at fashion school came with its own set of challenges. Which is why when she left for college in his sophomore year, he started dealing drugs. Coriolanus had always been pegged as mature and “wiser beyond his years'” by adults and teachers so aside from Sejanus, he really only had Tigris and her friends as company. And they were always around, until they weren’t and Coriolanus realized how empty he felt with no one to tag along with. Her room would sit empty until the summers, and when she returned she was like Persephone. It makes their grandma happier, more lively too, a trait Coriolanus wishes he could emulate. He wishes to have that effect on people, but it seems to fall flat. Usually people seem cautious and wary about him, like a powder keg ready to explode.

Coriolanus smiles back at his cousin, then looking over his shoulder and into his closet mirror. He admires himself, smiling for a moment then looking back at Tigris

“Thanks Ty,” he sighs , hugging her

“Oh! I have something for you. Consider it a pre-graduation gift” she pulls back, rushing into her room.

She scurry’s back and is carrying a small black box, tied together with a single black satin bow. He unties it, letting the ribbon fall to the floor. He opens the box and inside is a bottle of cologne. It was a square black bottle, a luxury brand that he had seen countless times in department stores at the mall.

He picks it up and immediately takes in the scent. It was musky, but fresh and slightly intoxicating. It was masculine, but still had a tinge of something sweet. He looks up at her in awe. The Snows hadn’t been able to afford much since both Coriolanus’ and Tigris' parents had been out of the picture.

Money was tight, and they had shared two cars between the three of them. Coriolanus would usually drive his late grandfather’s old white F250, which only he seems to be able to navigate, so his grandma and Tigris drove a navy 2008 Corellia. On top of that, Tigris always had a job from the moment she was sixteen and Coriolanus made sure to find ways to make money for his family. He would usually do house work for people in the neighborhood and landscaping in the summer. So to have an item of such luxury in his hands, from his cousin, means the world to him at this moment.

“Thank you. This is…you must have worked so hard for this…”

“It really didn’t put me out too much, especially with my intern this July. I have some connections now.” She smiles

“You’re truly a wonder.” Coriolanus admires

“As are you. I know you’ll continue to make this family proud.”

She hugs him one last time before leaving him alone with her gift in his hands. He smells it again, taking it out of the bottle and spraying his neck, and the inside of his wrists. Maybe you’ll come up to him and notice. Notice how good he smells, and want to talk to him. Touch him. He wonders how you’ll look today. What perfume you’ll choose since, he was aware you had many scents you liked to wear. He loved when you would spray yourself with your mini travel size bottle. It had a musky, vanilla scent, like a caramel. It would spin in his nostrils and make him hard. It made him want to taste you.

He shook himself from his thoughts, palming himself through his pants to relieve some tension. He takes the plate of breakfast from his desk and chews on a piece of bacon. He sits on his bed. He sits his plate down and bends down to pull out a small thick mesh bag. Inside was his lighter, grinder, a glass chillum pipe, a wooden dugout with a one hitter, a few pre rolls, and about an ounce of indica. He takes out some of the weed and the grinder. He places it in the teeth of the grinder, pushes down and turns. The smell of the flower wafts in the air and Coriolanus takes his lighter and leans over to light his bedside candle, an item he frequently restocks for this reason.

Tigris was aware that Coriolanus smoked, but unaware that he sold and his grandmother didn’t know either. Not that he dared smoke in his room without at least opening a window and blowing it out, but he didn’t want to have the scent waft and linger for his grandmother’s sake. He didn’t smoke in the house often, and usually sat outside on the back patio. When all the weed is ground up, he unscrews the bottom on the grinder and shakes it into his dugout. He clears out the one hitter and fills it up for a hit. Once it’s all packed, he puts it away, closing the top and sliding the dugout into his pocket for later. He knew that having to be at a school function for so long would mentally take it out of him, plus what would they do if he gets caught, he’ll already be graduated. Additionally, Sejanus was having a post-graduation lunch for the grade at his house and Coriolanus knew he wouldn’t be able to survive both consecutively with being high.

The nice thing about being friends with Sejanus was he lived in your neighborhood. You and him came from wealthy families, and those were the nicest houses in town, so whenever he would head over to Sejanus’s house he got to pass by your own. Sometimes he’d notice your bedroom light was on, and wondered if you were in your room. Your white Audi Q5 was usually parked outside, but if not, he knew where it and you were. Devon’s house. Which he suspected you would both be at the Plinth’s house after graduation. Even though you didn’t explicitly mention it last night, Coriolanus had a feeling you’d be there since your boyfriend was always cozying up to Mr. Plinth to get a job with his energy company, which the Plinths supply half of the county with. It was pathetic really, given how Sejanus was going to inherit the company when his father retires or dies, and then what. God Devon was such an annoying prick he couldn’t stand it.

Coriolanus finishes the rest of his breakfast. He checks himself one last time in the mirror, then grabs his phone, keys, a lighter, and wallet. He grabs his cap and gown and heads downstairs. He heads into the kitchen, placing his empty breakfast plate in the dishwasher and bidding his grandma and Tigris a goodbye until the ceremony. He had promised Sejanus last week to give him a ride to the ceremony to avoid “a headache from his parents.” Which Coriolanus gleefully accepted. Any excuse to pass by your house.

On his way there he turns up some music, enjoying the morning and glad to be done with high school. Lana del Ray’s song Diet Mountain Dew starts to play as he rolls into the nice, polished neighborhood of Governor’s Way. He draws closer to your house and sees your car still parked outside. He smiles to himself and keeps driving. He makes a left turn at the end of the street and Sejanus’s house sits at the end of a cul-de-sac, slightly off center to the right. He pulls up and sits in his car waiting for Sejanus. From his rear view mirror he can see your house and watches. Maybe you’ll come out. Maybe he’ll catch a glimpse of you. He watches and he sees something he detests. Your boyfriend pulls up, his country music roaring. He turns away and texts:

Here

Coming sorry!

Ma wanted pictures

Of course she did. Coriolanus sighs to himself and checks the time. The ceremony isn’t until 10 am, but seniors were expected to arrive at 9 am to ensure they were accounted for and not late. Sejanus comes out the front door, already in his cap and gown walking into Coriolanus’s truck and smiling.

“Are you nervous?” He asks, as they back out

“No” Coriolanus smirks

“I feel weird. I can’t believe it’s all over. And now we are off to college…”

“Hey man, let's enjoy our break, yeah?”

“I will. Oh Ma wants to take us out shopping for bedding and decor for our dorm. She thinks we should shop together so we can try to make our room look like it all flows…”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes. Of course his mother wants matching bedsheets and decorations for them. Of course she’s thinking about it before her son has even received his diploma. It’s so infuriating, but at least he’ll get a free set of bed sheets. The Plinths were always generous with the Snow family. As he starts to pull by your house he sees you come out and greet your boyfriend. You’re in a white dress, your hair down and slightly curled. Even from here you’re stunning. Like a sweet dollop of whipped cream that Coriolanus wants to lick up.

You see his car go by and smile at him as you hug Devon. Coriolanus smiles and your boyfriend notices your attention has been drawn away from him. He looks behind and Coriolanus speeds up. He scowls at the white truck as it rides by and starts to shuffle you inside. Coriolanus turns up the music in frustration and Sejanus looks at him sympathetically. An old Billie Eilish song, my boy, plays and Coriolanus smirks at how fitting it is for the situation. Concerned, Sejanus turns it down to talk to him.

“Maybe they’ll break up before the summer is over…”

“Yeah and then what? She’s still going to Cali in August. I’m staying here. It’s whatever dude…”

“I’m just saying. I know how much you like her.”

“Ok well she doesn’t like me so it doesn’t matter.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Sejanus suggests

“Why?” Coriolanus asks

“Just something she asked me in Art History…”

“What did she say?”

“Just we were talking and she kinda subtly asked if you and I were staying close to home because of anybody. I said no and she asked about you. Wanted to know if there was some girl she didn’t know about…”

Coriolanus’s heart races. You’re asking his best friend about him. If he’s staying near home for a girl and wanting to know if he’s single or not. Why? Are you interested in him? Are you about to leave your boyfriend for him? He could hardly believe it and almost missed the turn.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…” Sejanus remarks

“No. Thanks for telling me it’s just…fuck dude don’t get my fucking hopes up…”

“I’m not, just yeah, I thought you’d at least wanna know that…”

The two boys pull into the school, parking in the back. They walk inside, check in, and are instructed to head into the auditorium, where they would wait. The graduation would be taking place in the gymnasium, the only space big enough to host all the guests and 150 seniors. They walk to the auditorium Meanwhile, Coriolanus puts his gown on, but not fully zipped and he holds his cap to the side. They find a seat and Coriolanus pulls out his phone. He pulls up Snapchat and sees you’ve posted on your story. He taps on it. There you are. A cute mirror selfie, showcasing your makeup with a white cursive caption that said:

graduation look

He loved getting to see little glimpses of you like this. Over the last few years he’d gotten accustomed to these types of photos and to an extend the layout of your room. Sometimes it would fuel his imagination of you. He thought about just how precious you’d look spread out on your plush, pink sheets and comforter. About you laying against your fluffy white pillows, holding them in-between your legs as you playfully roll around your bed, showing off for him.

He closes out your story quickly and taps to show the next one and it’s Devon’s. It’s a picture of you and him. His arm around you in front of your house. His caption reads:

Grad time

Coriolanus swipes away and rolls his eyes. He scoffs and Sejanus looks at him, frowning. He wants to say something, but can’t think of anything to tell Coriolanus to make him feel better. Sejanus then looks around nervously and catches you walking in with Devon. He decides not to say anything and whips around quickly, which only draws Coriolanus’s attention in. He turns around and sees you walk towards the front, cap in hand, gown on. Now that you’re closer to him, he can see your tan heels to go with your dress. He likes how they look and desperately wants to tell you. You give him a small wave as you walk in, and before he can return it, your boyfriend comes into the auditorium. Boisterous and obnoxious, he chats it up with some buddies for a moment, then notices your attention toward Coriolanus. He strides toward you, taking your hand and walking you away from him. Coriolanus is left fuming and feeling embarrassed. Fuck Devon. He fucking hates that prick.

As the last of the students file in, the administrators instruct the seniors to line up in alphabetical order, which took less time than expected given it was a common ask for these types of school events. Coriolanus was in the back of the line, with Sejanus a few people ahead. He turns back, giving Coriolanus a nervous smile, eyes beginning to swell with tears. Coriolanus simply nods and the line moves into the gymnasium. Coriolanus doesn’t think of much as entering the gym, he’s just ready to get this over with. As he walks in, pomp and circumstance plays, and he looks around for his grandma and Tigris, spotting them on the left side of the bleachers in the middle. He waves and they wave back. Tigris holds a bouquet of white roses and their grandma is clearly struggling to take pictures on Tigris’s iPhone. He smiles and shakes his head. He turns back to look in front of him, following the line of students to his seat.

The ceremony goes as he expects. Long, cheesy, too many speeches, and most of all, boring. The only thing that captures his attention is you. Being valedictorian, you were asked to give a speech on the importance of academics and the hope for the future. Coriolanus is sure that the school gave you strict guidance on what to say since he knows that if you had spoken from the heart, it would have upstaged these sad high school admin clowns.

After the ceremony, Coriolanus finds his family. Tigris hands him a bouquet of white roses and the three of them take pictures together. Sejanus’s mom also insists on taking pictures of him and Coriolanus together. Coriolanus smiles and poses for as long as he can take it and thankfully the Plinth’s leave to get ready for the post-graduation lunch at their house. Coriolanus tells his grandma and cousin he’ll meet them at lunch and at the last minute Sejanus decides to ride with him back to his house.

“Sorr, just dad was starting to get annoyed with mom so I figured I’d let them work it out”

“It’s cool man.” Coriolanus nods, taking off his cap and gown. Sejanus follows his actions before getting in the truck.

“I’m glad the weather is nice. Ma spent all of yesterday morning on the phone with the catering company. I guess more people are coming last minute than expected.”

“Like who?” Coriolanus inquires

Sejanus rattles off a few names of classmates including you and Devon. Coriolanus hitches his breath and glances at his friend.

“Oh yeah?”

Sejanus nods

“Devon wants to suck up to your dad you know. Trying to get a nice cozy salary job doing nothing all day.”

“Yeah, dad doesn’t like him much anyways…”

Coriolanus scoffs in amusement and rolls his eyes. As they pull into the driveway, they realize they are the first to arrive, beating his parents home. They exit the car and head into the backyard. The Plinths had a pool, in addition to plenty of yard space. The space was currently occupied with tall cocktail tables, white tents, seats and tables for dining and plenty of waiters and waitresses running around looking busy, sweaty and stressed. Coriolanus nods around the side of the house, indicating he wants to smoke. Sejanus didn’t smoke often. He claims he didn’t like feeling “out of control and fuzzy.”

He still would hang around Coriolanus when he did, usually nervously looking over his shoulder. Coriolanus takes out his dugout as they head around the side of the house out of sight. He opens it, fills up his one-hitter and takes out a lighter. He holds the lighter and one-hitter to his lips, lighting and inhaling. Coriolanus was never one to make a full of himself when he wasn’t sober. Sometimes too much weed would make him tired or head feel foggy, but mainly he enjoyed the slightly disorienting feeling, the subtle euphoria that ran through his body, and the weightlessness.

He blows the smoke out, fanning Sejanus’s face and he turns away. Coriolanus lets out a few harsh coughs. He offers Sejanus a hit but he refuses. A few more hits and Coriolanus can feel the euphoria rush through his body. His head feels like it’s floating, mind clear. He cleans out his one-hitter, putting it back in the dugout, and into his pocket. Now he's got a good high, he can finally enjoy this day. The two boys walk back to the pool area, trying to stay out of the staff's way as they continue to scramble around. Soon enough, Senjanus’s parents pull up and Coriolanus asks to make sure he doesn’t smell like weed.

“You’re good” Sejanus reassures

As the lunch starts, more and more people pour in. Coriolanus’s family arrives, greets him and goes to find the Plinths. Coriolanus sticks close to Sejanus as the pair head over to get something to snack on. The main course wasn’t ready, but off to a side table was an extravagant charcuterie board, with a variety of different cheeses, meats, fruits and dips. Sejanus grabs a small plate and loads it with a bit of everything.

“Oh this tzatziki is good!” He remarks, dipping a pita chip into the serving on his plate. Coriolanus takes a few pieces of fruit and cheese, snacking on them. They find a cocktail table and stand around it. One of the waiters comes up and offers them water and they both take one.

“Is this like a substitute for your graduation party?”

“I wish, but she insists on having one. Oh that reminds me, she wanted to know if you wanted to do it with me. Like a double celebration?”

“We can’t afford that.” Coriolanus remarks dryly

“You wouldn’t have to pay for any of it.”

“I’ll think about it.” He murmurs

Then, Coriolanus spots you and Devon arrive and heart skips a beat. You flow in gracefully, so pure and perfect. Coriolanus tries to ignore the fact that you are clutching Devon’s arm and looks away. He turns back to Sejanus, who can’t get enough of the mozzarella wrapped in prosciutto.

“This is good with the pesto!”

Coriolanus excuses himself, taking his water with him. He wants to smoke again, the sight of you sobering him up, but makes him hate the way you look on Devon’s arm. He goes inside, sneaking past people and out through the front door. He looks out on the lineup of cars surrounding the driveway. He glances around to make sure no one is coming, then retrieves his dugout from his pocket. He packs and lights his one hitter again, taking a drink of water so he doesn’t cough so much. He takes one more hit before packing it tightly once again. As he blows the smoke out, he thinks about just how much not being able to see you at school is going to pain him. Maybe he can visit you over breaks and holidays? But how would he even pull that off? He curses himself. Why can’t he just be this emotionless asshole whose attention was captivated by more than just one woman. But it wasn’t. He loves you. He needs you more than anything in this life.

He takes one last hit, then packs his one-hitter away and returns back to lunch. He gets to the kitchen and pauses and stands in the doorway leading outside. He watches the crowd, looking for you. He spots you and Devon talking to the Plinths, Devon of course cozying up to Mr. Plinth as usual. Coriolanus simply rolls his eyes. He watches you from across the lawn, Devon’s arm firmly around your waist. As he leans up against the doorway, he sips his water and watches you as you turn your head in his direction. You notice his eyes on you and wave. He clumsily waves back, nearly choking on his water. Devon also notices and draws your attention back to the conversation with him and the Plinths.

God, Coriolanus wants you. So incredibly bad. And you look so beautiful in that white summer dress. He wishes he could take you around the front of Sejanus’s house, out of sight. He would push you up against the white wood, pull down the front of your dress and reveal your perfect tits to him. He bet they were soft, and could tell by your apparent lack of a bra that they would mold to his hand like you were made for him.

Then suddenly, you excuse yourself and begin to stride over to him. Coriolanus tries to casually straighten up, trying not to be so obvious about his excitement as you approach him.

“Hey!” You smile sweetly

“Well I guess you officially don’t ever need my help in an AP class ever again.”

“You said you’d still be available? Change your mind?”

“Not at all. Just feels nice to be done.” He smiles

“It does. I had to get away from all the talk. Devon is ambitious about trying to work for Mr. Plinth.”

“Plinth’s company would look great on any resumé” he remarks “But Sejanus will eventually own it no matter what”

“Yeah, Devon is…” you sigh, turning to look at him “a bit silly sometimes…so you want to keep taking science classes next year? “

“A few, but I really want to get more into politics and government when I get to college. Major in political science maybe…”

“Really? You find that all interesting?”

“I do. Don’t you?” He asks

“I find it all confusing really. And I guess those big ideas like that are a lot to understand sometimes, especially when people just yell their opinions at each other thinking they are the right one and are stubborn about their beliefs. “

“That’s the fun.” He smirks

From this distance he can finally see how well your body fills out the dress. Coriolanus tries to keep his eyes on his own. He can’t help that your breasts are so perky and round, that the material of your dress hugs your stomach just enough to barely show him the outline of your belly button.

“Did you check out the charcuterie board? It has some good things to snack on.”

“I got some fruit, yeah.” He remarks

“That’s all?” You chuckle

“And some cheese.” He smiles back

“Well if it's as good as what they are serving then I’m excited. It kinda makes me want to have a board for me and Devon’s graduation party. But if people are only interested in the fruit and cheese then I’m not sure” you tease

“You should. People like that stuff.”

“I guess so.” Then you pause and look at him curiously. “Umm…you smell nice by the way…”

“Thanks. My cousin got me a new fancy cologne for graduation.”

“She knows her stuff.”

“I guess that’s what being a big time New Yorker does to a person. She’s in fashion school.”

Fuck, you noticed his new cologne, just as he hoped for. He wonders if it makes you turn on. Does it make you wet? The new smell of him, so masculine and bold. He wonders.

Before you can remark on how cool and interesting Tigris is, your boyfriend comes marching over, a stern, stone cold expression on his face.

“Hey, they are starting to serve food. Let’s get in line before it’s too long.” He states, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away. You give Coriolanus a somber look before turning away with Devon. He whispers something in your ear and you look as if you’re trying to plea with him to not make a scene. Coriolanus rolls his eyes and walks over to Sejanus.

“Wanna get in line?” Sejanus asks

The lunch turns out to be exceptionally delicious. The buffet was full of summer foods too. A watermelon, feta salad, and an arugula based salad as starters. Then the main course includes a choice between “off-the-stick” chicken or steak kabob, with onions and peppers. For the sides, grilled corn, grilled zucchini with goat cheese and honey, with cut and seasoned cherry tomatoes. Coriolanus tried not to look greedy when filling up his plate, but he was hungry and didn’t get a chance to have such nice food. He put his pride aside and filled his plate up. Him and Sejanus find a seat with Coriolanus’s family and soon the Plinths join them.

The whole rest of the afternoon Coriolanus is enchanted by your compliment. It practically haunts him. It’s the only sound in his head at the moment, the sound of your sweet voice. He imagines other things you could say to him in that same pleasant voice.

“Mhmm you smell so good Coriolanus. So sexy. Why don’t we take this inside” he imagines you whispering to him, taking his hand and leading him away, inside the Plinth’s house. He thinks about you taking him into their guest bathroom, pushing him up against the white marble sink and unbuckling his belt. He was desperate to feel your soft touch, your small hands pushing on his hips, forcing him to take what you give him. Coriolanus would feel overwhelmed, as if the wind and life had been knocked out of him as you slowly touched his chest and pelvis. He would love it if you ripped his pants down, along with his boxers, exposing yourself to him while gently caressing his face.

“You’re such a smart boy Coriolanus Snow…so smart…” you’d whisper, kissing his neck slowly. “So handsome…”

He’d whimper and whine, softly as to not draw attention to any other guests. You’d take him in your small hands, taking his large length and stroking him. You’d stare directly into his pupils the entire time, whisper how big he was, how bad you want to taste it and have it inside you. You’d jerk him off until he came, quickly getting down on your knees to swallow as to leave no mess on the polished, porcelain tiles…

“Man Ma chose a good catering company this time. Much better than the one we used for New Years!” Sejanus speaks up, breaking Coriolanus’s vision of you.

He looks up and nods and he takes another bite of chicken. He tries to hide his discontent, not only at his friend for interrupting his thoughts, but also the way Sejanus talks about his lifestyle. As if it was normal to hire catering and throw a party for every holiday or important life event. It was something the Plints became known for in addition to their electrical empire. Especially Mrs. Plinth, who usually threw an end of the year pool party but felt as if a lunch was more fitting to “watch our children start the journey as adults.” Frankly, Coriolanus missed the pool party. Not only because it would give him an opportunity to look at you in a bikini, but he hated formal events.

He glances up and watches you take a seat next to Devon. He sighs and eats some more chicken, trying to savor the peppers and onions. Thankfully he was able to hide his slow growing erection under the table and as he finished his food, it died down. Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly shameful. You had no idea though. No idea what the thought of you does to him. He knows there’s only one way to truly conquer his emotions, but knows that as long as Devon was around, it was a hopeless pursuit.

꧁🝮❤︎︎🝮꧂

96 notes · View notes

lovelettersbyj · 8 months

Text

A King and His Queen ❌

Warnings: Kissing, slight man-handling, intense biting, unprotected sex, slight dom!Coriolanus, ejaculation on body.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem Reader(?).

Summary: After a surprise Academy ceremony, Coriolanus Snow is now one of 24 Academy students in charge of a tribute for the 10th Annual Hunger Games ceremony. Pearl Whitegrove, desperate to climb her way to the top in Panem, must try anything and everything she can to keep Coriolanus Snow focused on the big picture. Even if that means, extreme, and potentially seductive measures.

Word Count: 2,192.

A/N: Happy holidays! I know it's been a minute, but I hope everyone had a wonderful winter break. I've been attempting to draft out how I want these events to play out; I really love Pearl and this toxic love affair so I want to make sure I include everything I thought of. Some of the dialogue might be slightly off from the movie since I'm shaping it around to my idea. I hope you all enjoy! Make sure to comment and let me know what you think. 💛

Also a very happy birthday to Tom Blyth! An absolute coincidence I'm finally posting part two today, but a great one nonetheless.

Read Part One here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crowds of students, parents, school staff, and Capitol citizens flooded the ballroom floor; everyone clearly in a mild state of panic. Tributes and mentors? Academy students as mentors? There’s no way they’d be able to train these kids to survive a slaughter in The Games. But that wasn't entirely the point, was it?

I pushed my way through the vibrantly dressed bodies, raising myself up as high as I could in search of Coriolanus’ blonde head. About to admit defeat, a hand wrapped itself around my right bicep and pulled me back. I gasped as I turned around, arms wrapping around me and two familiar blue eyes staring right at me, “Are you alright?”

I nodded warily, “Yes.”

Coriolanus guided us stealthily out of the ballroom, avoiding anyone attempting to approach him and rile up an anger-fueled conversation. We ended up outside by the car loading area, thankfully empty. We stood in between the large concrete columns, attempting to stay relatively hidden from any prying eyes.

“What the hell is going on with Highbottom?” Coriolanus snapped, “Students as tributes? Is he out of his mind?”

I chuckled, “Clearly. Those kids are all going to die anyway; the Games themselves are getting more boring every year. If something doesn’t change they’ll just stop doing them altogether. The Capitol is desperate.”

Coriolanus went silent, his eyes glued to the floor. I watched him a moment, then stepped closer to him, lifting my hands and clutching his pale cheeks in my grasp. “Coryo, look at me.”

His serious expression remained, but his eyes began to soften as he focused on me.

“You’ve got this, Coriolanus Snow. You’re going to show Highbottom and everyone in the Capitol what you’re capable of.”

He chuckled, “But Lucy Gray—” “I don’t care about Lucy Gray. I care about you, and I care about you impressing Dr. Gaul. I know you want to help your family, and I know you want to ultimately work in the Capitol, right?”

He nodded, raising his hands and lightly holding my forearms, “I want to do great things with Panem.” He spoke so softly; a first glimpse at vulnerability. His eyes almost watering, looking at me a bit more desperately now, “I want to be President.”

“And you will, Coryo. I know you will. But you can’t lose sight of what they want out of the games. It’s not just about who survives. It’s about who they remember the most… And they’ve got to remember you.”

Fuck it. Before thinking twice I pulled his face towards me and kissed his warm lips. I felt his hands tense against my arms; fingers pressing a bit harder on the skin. This kiss was so comforting, for both of us. He sighed into the kiss, growing more confident now and pulling me into him. Suddenly a cough followed by someone clearing their throat made us pull away hastily.

Turning around, we both were uncomfortably joined by Dean Highbottom, who leaned against a concrete pillar with his lips draining the last drops of a clear liquid in a tiny glass bottle.

“Always creeping around, aren’t you Highbottom?” I chuckled dryly, turning to face him as Coryo’s nervous hand gripped my wrist, “Don’t you have children to terrorize?”

A ghost of a smile decorated his face; sarcasm dripping from a chuckle as he looked up at me, “Hanging around the Snows, are we Pearl? That’s low, even for you.”

I took a step closer, but Coryo’s hand held me firm and prevented me from getting any closer, “You better watch how you speak about Coriolanus and his family. They’re more powerful than you could ever dream of being.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t crave power… unlike some people. Isn’t that right, Snow?” His gaze darted over towards Coriolanus, who stood silent behind me.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and shaking my head, “You can try to scare the Academy graduates all you want, but Coriolanus is going to win. You’ll see.”

Highbottom chuckled again. “With that little songbird? I don’t think so.” He began to walk away from us, heading back inside to the chaos he had created not long ago. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to face us again, “It’s a good thing Whitegrove is here to stand up for you, huh Snow? But once the Games begin, you’re going to be all alone… Then we’ll see how powerful you really are.”

———————————————————

The sun had set in Panem, everyone holed up in their homes, anxious after the ground-breaking news. I was with Coriolanus in the old Snow mansion, sitting in the living room with my legs crossed and watching the blonde haired man pace back and forth as he explained to Tigris exactly what had happened earlier that day. She was disapproving of the way Snow talked about Lucy Gray Baird, practically chastising him for doing so. She snapped back at him saying that if she was in Lucy’s position, she wouldn’t trust Coryo at all— my blood boiling at the insult.

“What else is he supposed to do then, Tigris? Let her go into the Games knowing full well she’s going to die right away? Let’s be serious for a moment.”

The two of them looked over to me now, Tigris’ eyes narrowed, “So what do you suggest?”

I paused for a beat, thinking sincerely. I still had no idea what Coriolanus should do, but there was no way in hell he was about to lose this ridiculous competition. He needed to win… I needed him to win.

“That’s what I thought.” She spat out dryly.

—————

Tigris had abandoned Coriolanus and I in a bubbling rage, closing herself away in her room for the night. I now sat in an old, worn out chair in the corner of Coryo’s small room. He nervously picked some clutter off of the ground, rummaging around in a quick attempt to make everything seem a bit more presentable.

“It’s okay, Coryo.” I assured softly, “Just relax.”

Resting a broken pencil on his desk, he sat himself on the edge of his small bed, directly across from me. We basked awkwardly in a moment of silence, before he exhaled a nervous breath, “I have no idea what I’m going to say to her tomorrow.”

“I think showing up at the train station is a smart idea. I doubt any of the other mentors would ever think about doing something like that, you’re on the right track.”

I stood up, shrugging my coat off of my shoulders and tossing it onto the back of the chair. Stepping closer to Coryo, I delicately lifted a hand onto a stray curly lock that hung over his forehead, tucking it back behind his ear and cupping his face, “You’re a brilliant man, Coriolanus Snow. You’re going to get Lucy Gray Baird to trust you, and you will be King of Panem one day.”

“King?” His eyebrows furrowed.

I chuckled, “King, President. Whatever you prefer.”

“There’s no way I’m going to win with her, she’s not going to last a day—” “She doesn’t need to last a day. She just needs to be remembered; so that you can be remembered.”

Coryo’s features went soft; eyes watering at the thought of how low his chances were. The fate of his future in Panem rested in the arms of a lowly girl from District 12. I cupped his face with both hands now, brushing away a tear that managed to slip down.

“If you can impress Dr. Gaul by the time all of this is over, you won’t need to worry about some District 12 country bum. You hold all the power, Coriolanus. You are powerful.”

Slowly, I lowered myself in between his legs, straddling his right thigh. His eyes darted down to watch the way I pressed down onto him, his mouth letting out a soft gasp.

“Pearl…”

Coryo’s eyes met mine, and our gazes held a moment. Suddenly he wasted no time in kissing me, his hands gripping the back of my neck to hold me in place as his lips tackled mine. I wrapped both arms around his wide shoulders, using his body to steady myself as my energy quickly grew weak under his touch.

Hastily in between kisses, my fingers fumbled with his white shirt buttons in a desperate attempt to pull the material off of his body, Coriolanus doing the same with the zipper of my golden dress. His hands slowly glided up the sides of my body, long fingers taking in what he could as he made his way up to my breasts. An excited spark went up my spine, feeling his cool, pale hands against my warm flesh.

His hands cupped the outer curvature, massaging the breasts slowly. I bit my lip at his intricate touch, closing my eyes and slightly leaning my head back as I swallowed hard. At this notion, Coryo immediately leaned forward and clung his lips onto my fully exposed neck, playfully digging his teeth and swirling his tongue on a single, concentrated spot. Eventually his hands expertly unclasped the bra, and the clothing item also found its way quickly to the floor.

My hand rested on his fully hard cock, pressing aggressively against his tight black slacks. I knead my hand slowly, making sure to guide it along the full length. Coriolanus groaned, his head falling onto my exposed shoulder as he was fully at my mercy. I slipped his earlobe in between my lips, biting it teasingly as I slipped my hand past the pant confines and through the boxer briefs. His cock was rock solid, and at the touch of my hand twitched excitingly. I guided my hand along the length, only slightly cupping his balls before working my way up and beginning a steady pump rhythm.

“Oh my god, fuck,” Coriolanus gasped, one hand wrapped around my wrist as I continued to work my way along his cock. His eyes fluttered closed, and I pressed my lips onto his forehead as his breaths grew short and aggressive; I knew he was close.

Suddenly he pulled my hand out, and in a quick switch in attitude, he was back in charge. Coriolanus ripped my dress down, making sure to include my panties as he left me fully nude. He finished pulling off his pants and boxers, and with both hands on my waist, pulled me on slowly over his fully erect dick.

“Those were some pretty inspiring words,” He spoke in a low growl, guiding my hips as he slowly rocked me back and forth against him, “You just want a man with power, huh?”

“Oh,” I shuddered, completely at a loss of control. My core pulsed as my dripping warmth completely coated onto his entire girth. His hands pressed deeply onto my hip bones, guiding my rhythm as his mouth sucked hard on my exposed collar bone. My hands dug into his soft, blonde hair, looping my fingers in his curls as I held onto him dearly.

He continued his pace, my grinding trying to become a bit more desperate as I felt a tight ball of heat build up in my core. I started to pant, pulling tightly on his hair as I moaned out, “I’m going to c-cum.”

Coriolanus smirked in delight, moving a hand down to my clit and rubbing the sensitive bud vigorously with his thumb as he gave me a long kiss, swirling his tongue on my lower lip before pulling away and whispering, “Cum for me, my queen.”

His deep voice was enough to push me over the edge, and I clung to his broad back as I dropped my head onto his right shoulder, my teeth sinking into his skin as I felt my warm juices release completely onto his lap.

“Coryo,” I gasped out, and I felt his chest rise and fall in a soft chuckle, pleased with the mess I had made on his body. He wrapped his arms around my curves, pulling me close as I continued to slowly ride out my high.

“I can get used to this, sweetheart.” Coriolanus smiled, lifting my chin to look up at him as he left a tender kiss on my lips, “You’re beautiful.”

I chuckled softly, kissing him again on the cheek as he helped lift me up. My legs slightly wobbled as I steadied myself, and he immediately reached over to grab a cloth. We both laughed, slightly embarrassed as we cleaned ourselves up. Coriolanus and I settled in his bed, practically clinging to each other under his bedsheet cover. “You’re going to do great tomorrow, Coriolanus. I believe in you.”

His hand held the side of my face as his thumb repeatedly stroked my cheek softly, “With you by my side, all my doubts are fading away.”

I had him. He trusts me—needs me. He’s mine.

“Is that why you called me your queen?” I giggled, leaning up to kiss him.

He smirked, nodding his head slightly, “As you said, I’m going to be the King of Panem one day. Every King needs a Queen, right?”

104 notes · View notes

coryothesub · 3 months

Note

I became obsessed with Billie Eilish's "the diner" and now I couldn't stop thinking about what Coryo would be like as the stalker described in that piece of musical art.

Although it took me a million years to get around to writing this, I absolutely love this ask because it finally gave me the opportunity to explore a darker side of sub Coryo. I know the boy's unwell but I still love him sm, poor poor baby!!! Also the ending is a bit sad, but it's not as half as tragic as the initial version that I had planned for this story

nsfw / mdni / stalker!sub!coryo / dom!reader / toxic relationship / a bit of violence / nothing more I can think of

Your phone buzzed again and it made you jump a little. You had the late shift at the diner that you were working at so you had to stay after closing time to do some cleaning and deal with the accounting.

You knew you could easily get fired for that but you had already had three shots from the vodka bottle and now you were about to take the fourth. It would be fine. You would replace the missing vodka with water and no one would notice. You really needed this after all. After finding out that he had been released from jail today. Would he actually obey the restraining order? The chance was slim to none.

You had met him right here, six months ago.

“Coriolanus Snow,” he had introduced himself, flashing a big white teeth smile at you.

You would be lying if you said you didn't have a little crush on him when he started coming here. He was tall and handsome, always well dressed, his angelic face was neatly surrounded by his platinum blonde curls and those icy blue eyes, you felt like you could drown in them easily.

He started coming every day, and your coworkers had already nicknamed him “Coryo” on those occasions when they didn't call him your boyfriend. He was always charming and polite, he never overstepped your boundaries. Until he did…

You gave him your number yourself and then the messages started to arrive. Thousands of them. In his mind you two were in a relationship. You were his girlfriend, his fiancee, mother of his future children. He kept asking you about the wedding, had you already chosen the dress, what color it would be, what was your favorite flavor for the cake, whether you preferred a live band or a DJ.

“Coriolanus, this needs to stop!” one morning you hissed through your teeth while taking his breakfast order. He didn't seem to even hear you, he just kept talking about your beautiful life together and how you should stop working at the diner since he was able to provide for you.

You had told your boss numerous times that you couldn't work like this, and after many pleas he finally ordered the security guard not to let Coryo in despite the regular revenues he was bringing to the establishment.

Starting from that day he was just standing outside. Looking sad and confused, large tears running down his cheeks when he managed to catch your look through the window.

Then he was also standing outside your house. Your nearest grocery store. The bar you frequented with your friends. Until one day you found a vase full of fresh white roses. In your bedroom. There was no card, but you knew it was him. It happened again next week, and the week after that…

Why didn't you call the police? You did, numerous times, but the thing was that Coryo had never laid a finger on you. You couldn't prove that it was him who kept leaving the roses in your house. And standing on public land outside someone's property wasn't considered a crime.

The officers just brushed off your concerns and suggested you to change your number. But what about changing your workplace? And your home address? And even if you did all that, what if he found you anyways?

“How’s my queen doing today?” He approached you one day when you were getting inside your car after your shift.

“I just wanted to tell you that our wedding will happen on December 13. Since you didn't respond about the dress, I chose it and ordered it to be delivered to your house.”

“Coryo, please, just stop!” You lashed out at him, not being able to contain your emotions any more.

“We’re not in a relationship! We never have been! Just leave me alone!”

“I don't understand…” he looked puzzled and miserable. “But what about the wedding?”

“The wedding is canceled!” you decided to play along just as much as it would hopefully get to his deranged mind.

“No, wait, you have to explain…” for the first time ever he grabbed you by the hand, his blue eyes cold and filled with primal rage. Cold shivers ran down your spine. Could he actually be able to physically hurt you?

“Are you okay, Miss?” Some guy was just getting out of the car near you. “Is he bothering you?”

You felt too scared to even open your mouth and the stranger could probably sense the dread running through your every bone.

“Hey buddy, just let her go, okay?”

“Is this him?” Coryo yelled at you in jealous rage. “Is this the guy you’re sleeping around with? Is this the reason you're canceling the wedding?”

“Man you have clearly lost your marbles,” the helpful stranger tried to stand between you two. “Just go home and sleep off whatever you're on right now, okay?”

The next few moments were a total blur for you. The sound of a fight, screams, blood, someone calling the police. That poor guy ended up with a broken jaw. He pressed charges and Coryo was finally arrested.

You were still a bit salty that it didn't happen because of your complaints. But at least you got a restraining order. And he was out of your life. Or so you thought.

Earlier that day you had found out he’d got out on bail. Accompanied by an order to get a mandatory psychiatric treatment. But you suspected a psychiatrist wouldn't be the first person he’d look for.

After taking another shot you went to the toilet and messaged one of your friends asking to pick you up. It took all your willpower to ignore the countless messages from an unknown number until the last one came in. It was so short that you managed to see the whole text during the short moment while the notification popped up on your screen.

“I'm here, queen.”

Your heart dropped. What were you supposed to do? Call the police? But what if he was bluffing? What if “here” meant some other place? What if it wasn't even him? You had a new number, he probably did too, you had no proof unless you went out there to check.

You took a deep breath and opened the toilet door. The guest hall was empty and quiet. You couldn't see any people or vehicles outside in the parking lot. You let out a deep sigh of relief. And then you saw it. A single white rose laying on the counter.

Before your panic managed to kick in, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“You look so beautiful, my queen.”

You turned around and faced the man before you. Nothing much had changed, he had got a bit skinnier and apparently they had buzzed off his hair in jail. But his baby blue eyes had that same desperate glow.

“H-how did you get in?” You took a step back almost unknowingly.

“I let myself in through the kitchen door,” Coryo replied, he sounded chillingly calm. “My cellmate was a burglar and he taught me a thing or two about locks.”

He made a few steps closer to you and you could feel his hot, unsteady breath on your face. You just froze in place, afraid to even move.

“They let me out today, you know…”

“Yeah,” you replied in a nervous, high pitched tone, taking a quick look at your phone. “I figured that from the 453 messages you sent me today.”

The corner of Coryo's lip curled up in a small smile.

“Yeah, it was quite a challenge to find out your new number, I had to pay someone and I spent every last dime I had left after paying that 250 000 dollar bail. But I memorized it right away, now I can reach from anywhere any time… I shouldn't have done that you know, but I just couldn't resist. I had to see you one last time.”

That last sentence hit you like a rock. One last time? What the hell did he mean by that? Did he have some insane murder suicide plot in his mind? You realized that you should have called the police when you had the chance, but now it was probably too late. He would just grab that phone right out of your hand.

“C-coryo?” You said, voice trembling. “Are you going to hurt me?”

His eyes widened at your question, making you fear that you had fetched him the idea even if it hadn't been on his mind before.

Suddenly he sank to his knees in front of you, hugging your leg with his cold, slender fingers. His grip wasn't too tight, but you were petrified nonetheless.

“I would never lay a finger on you, my queen,” he looked up at you, his blue eyes clear as day. He sounded so genuine that you felt a pang of embarrassment from your own suspicious thoughts. But could you really blame yourself? He was your stalker who was clearly breaking the law right now.

“What do you want then?” You asked quietly, looking down at the young man at your feet.

“I just want to tell you… I need you to know that now I understand. I know you didn't cancel the wedding because of that guy or anyone else. I know it was my own actions, my own devotion, which didn't let me give you enough space. I have nothing left. No money, no friends, no dignity. My love for you is all that I have…”

You heard his voice cracking and large tears were streaming down his face, falling on the floor beneath you. He looked so defeated, so miserable, so pathetic. It was incredibly sad. But also kinda arousing. You hated your own body for the thoughts that were currently running through your head, but it didn't seem like a taboo any more, it was almost like an act of charity…

“Shhh, Coryo…” you whispered, your hand gently caressing his buzzed head.

He swallowed thickly letting out a few more sobs and you felt his lips touching your knee. His touch was so soft and delicate, the warmth of his lips mixed with the cold tears still running down his face.

“Please,” he looked up at you again, his eyes red and glossy. “Please, I need you. I have completely destroyed myself by falling under your spell, but I still need you so badly…”

Your thumb traveled down his forehead, gently caressing his cheek and somehow you found yourself pushing it into his warm wet mouth, his eyes closing immediately and his lips suckling on your digit blissfully.

He was looking at you with a silent plea and you nodded quietly, giving him the long awaited approval.

Coryo let your thumb out of his mouth with a silent pop and started planting soft kisses above your knee. You let out a small gasp as his lips traveled up your thigh. It was no point denying how much you liked it, the wetness in your panties would eventually give you away.

His buzzed head dove under your uniform dress and you felt his warm soft lips on your inner thighs. Damn it, this felt too good.

Coryo tugged at the waistband of your panties, he seemed to be hesitating for a moment but the way you were pressing your thighs together not to give away your treacherous wetness seemed to convince him and he pulled your panties down slowly, revealing your wet cunt to his eyes.

You heard a soft gasp, the blonde boy sounded as if he had encountered something unspeakably wonderful just before his mouth attacked your pussy with insatiable hunger.

Your whole body shivered as he started planting wet kisses along your folds. Your wetness surely encouraged him and you felt his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hungrily, while his tongue danced around your sensitive bud, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips.

“Oh Coryo,” you moaned his name, desperate for more sensation. “You”re good, so fucking good at this.”

He could hear a mix of surprise and sheer desire in your voice and it encouraged him to try even harder, sliding his tongue inside you and starting steady movements that simply drove you wild.

“Oh fuck, don't stop!” You moaned, grabbing his head instinctively and pushing him against your wet cunt, looking for a deeper contact.

You looked down at his growing bulge, intrigued by how prominent it was. You’d always thought he must have been some creepy incel whose dick probably didn't work, but apparently everything was more than alright there.

Coryo kept tongue-fucking you, humming blissfully against your sensitive area, the soft vibrations sending you into sweet oblivion.

You were almost there, but it didn't feel right. You had already come this far and now you needed him all. You stepped back, making him whine at the loss of contact and tilted his chin up, pulling him back to his feet.

The boy looked simply delicious, desperately catching his breath, his face glistening with your juices. You grabbed his chin and looked deeply into his icy blue eyes.

“I need you to fuck me!”

Coryo was staring at you in disbelief, his brain clearly trying to process what you were asking. He was taken over by fear. Afraid to deceive that one person that he unconditionally adored.

“N-now?” He stuttered. “I don't know, I-I…”

“C’mon,” you gazed upon him with a shit eating grin, sitting back on one of the tables and opening your legs for him, putting your hungry little cunt on full display.

“I thought this was what you always dreamed of… Now don't be a little coward that throws it all away just when we've come so far huh…”

Coryo seemed to be waking up from his stupor, lustful glimmer filling his eyes as he glanced down upon you. It almost seemed like his baby blues had got a few tones darker while he was taking in the tempting sight.

He exhaled nervously and stepped closer to you, scrambling to undo his belt.

“C’mon, baby boy,” you leaned closer, grabbing at the outline of his rock hard cock and palming it through his jeans. “Mommy needs you so badly.”

He pulled out his dick, making you bite your lip at the sight. The boy was way above average, his cock was so long and handsome. Your pussy clenched around the empty nothingness from the sight alone.

Coryo lined himself at your entrance and slowly pushed himself in, watching your reaction carefully. You were almost touched by the caring expression on his face.

“Oh, Coryo, you're so big,” you moaned out, feeling his massive cock stretching you out.

“Are you comfortable?” The blonde man asked, securing your waist in a tight grip.

“Uh-uh, just keep going!” You instructed, watching his face filling with amazement at how easily your impossibly wet cunt took his impressive length.

Coryo kept moving at a steady pace, watching you with sheer adoration. He couldn't believe that he was actually fucking you right now and it made you feel so damn good.

You enjoyed each and every of his thrusts, throwing your head back and letting out a series of small moans and whimpers.

“Faster!” You commanded breathlessly, pushing your hips towards his pelvis, desperate for more friction. Coryo's lips radiated a blissful smile as he kept watching you, his look wide-eyed and full of adoration.

He was now pounding you relentlessly enjoying the sounds you were making and the feeling of your tight wet walls clenching around him.

“Oh my goodness, such a good boy!” Your praises sounded like music to his ears as you rolled your eyes back feeling the velvety tip of his hard member hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

Coryo groaned deeply lost in his own immense pleasure, lewd sounds you both were making filled the empty room.

“You're so perfect,” Coryo mumbled between moans and gasps, while you were meeting each and every of his thrusts eagerly, aching for your release.

“I love you,” he whispered, looking so damn genuine and vulnerable that you pulled him close instinctively, pressing your lips together in a passionate kiss.

He kissed you with pure hunger and despair, whispering ridiculous love confessions against your lips. Along with his relentless thrusts it brought you over the edge and you came all over his cock with a desperate moan, your cunt clenching around him.

It almost seemed like it was too much for him to take and he exploded in an earth shattering orgasm, filling your cunt with a load of hot cum. His eyes bursted into tears, his whole body was trembling in your arms.

You pulled him in a tight hug, pressing his head to your chest as you felt his movements slowing down gradually..

“I love you, I need you, fuck, this was so perfect,” Coryo’s fragile frame was shaking as he sobbed into your uniform dress, completely dazed by his own pleasure.

“It's alright baby,” you hummed. “I'm here, I'm holding you, it's okay.”

It took a good minute until he calmed down and wiped his nose with his hand. You watched him zip up his jeans as kept glancing over at you with a teary look. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but there was an eerie feeling lingering in the air.

“Thank you, my queen!” Coryo pressed another soft kiss to your lips.

“I guess you're truly mine now,” a weird little smile crossed his face.

You nodded faintly, starting to realize what you’d just gotten yourself into.

“And I'm always yours,” he said, caressing your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, basking in his unconditional adoration.

Coryo took a few steps back, then walked over to the front door and let himself out. You watched him as he walked under the dim lights of the parking lot and then disappeared into the darkness.

You pulled your panties back up and grabbed your things, picking up the white rose from the counter almost instinctively and breathing in its alluring scent. You started to realize that you had probably just made the biggest mistake of your life. But for some reason it didn't feel wrong at all.

You grabbed your keys and decided that you were gonna think this through tomorrow. Or at least after you’d receive an overjoyed text from Coryo.

But that text never arrived. You didn't hear from him again. And so did no one else in your town. Rumors started circulating after a while and you heard all kinds of stuff. That he had moved away. That he had taken his own life at a remote place and his body would never be found. Maybe he had found another object for his obsession. Or maybe he was finally happy somewhere far away, at least you hoped so.

You had no idea. But sometimes under the cover of darkness you opened your journal and looked at the single white rose that you had dried almost like a weird talisman. And then you couldn't help but think about that strange night at the diner. And about the young blonde man with icy blue eyes, secretly hoping that someday somehow you would see him again.

#thank you for the ask #coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #thg #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg tbosas #oneshot #cts ask

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gladiatorcunt · 7 months

Text

key: 💐 = connected 🎀 = sfw 👙 = nsfw 🕊️ = non dc ⚰️ = dc

⚰️👙💐 modern!coryo & virgin reader’s first time (soon to be a full fic)

⚰️👙💐 modern!coryo recording you fucking

⚰️👙💐 modern!coryo manipulating you

⚰️👙 yan sej

⚰️👙 toxic sej & s/o reader + using obsessed coryo like a toy

⚰️🎀 modern!coryo x pregnant reader (not canon to main au)

⚰️👙💐 modern!coryo & mutual obsession (kind of not canon)

⚰️🎀 modern!coryo x singer reader (not canon to main au)

⚰️👙 modern!coryo x baby trapping (not(?) canon to main au)

⚰️👙 coryo x sej’s past s/o reader

⚰️🎀💐 “you’re so mysterious”

⚰️🎀 modern!coryo breakup fantasy (not canon to main au) (II.)

⚰️👙💐 modern!coryo’s kinks/type

⚰️👙 feral anakin

🕊️👙 anakin being an ass man

⚰️👙 modern boxer!feyd x hello kitty fan reader

⚰️👙 modern boxer!feyd x hello kitty fan reader who puts stickers on his bike

⚰️👙 dom tashi cheating on patrick with reader

🕊️👙 tired loser bf patrick

🕊️👙 patrick probably whines when you bounce on his cock

🕊️👙 super munch art

🕊️👙 sub stanford era art

⚰️👙 roommate gojo & male reader

#🥩.faq #title and fandom dividers made by me #others by anitalenia and animatedglittergraphics #navigation #masterlist #scenarios #pink theme

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etfrin · 10 months

Text

The Reward — Coriolanus Snow ♡

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | pinv sex, mirror sex-ish if you squint, dub con if you squint, overstimulation if you squint, face riding, creampie, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), snow is his own warming, dom sub undertones, reader has ear piercings, degradation, hints of a toxic relationship, impact play (spanks your ass a few times), dumbfication if you squint, low-key soft! Snow in the beginning | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow! x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Coriolanus Snow gives you a reward by being gentle af and then by being a mean animal (kinda) dnsjsk🤭

⇢☾A/N: it's 3:00 am and i need to sleep, i thought about Snow taking off my heels after a gala and this was born <3

< arranged marriage m.list > < tag list > < masterlist >

Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman but he wasn't gentle. Perhaps this was an alternative universe, a fever dream but you couldn't believe what was happening right now in front of your eyes. Your pupils were in shock, your palms were sweating as you continued to take in the sight.

The sight of Snow being on his knees as he unclasps the belts of your uncomfortable heels. You swallow, “Coryo, you don't have to” but his head tilts up and his eyes are still his. Blue, cold, empty, and never ending like the ocean. A calmness washed over you, the look in his eyes proof enough that this was one of his many tricks to keep you satisfied and happy and you have to indulge him in it.

So you let him gently take off your shoes and set them aside. You await his further actions and let out a soft, small moan as his lips pressed to one of your knees. His mouth keeps pressing wet kisses up to your upper thigh, leaving behind a trail of his saliva on your skin.

This was a reward. Coriolanus was so proud of his pretty and smart wife today. You behaved accordingly in the gala tonight, letting him take the credit for your ideas. You understood your duties and that's why this is one of the few times Coryo will ever kneel for or be this gentle. It's a thank you he can't voice so he does it by his actions.

His lips find themselves kissing inside your inner thigh now, gently nipping the skin as you let out needy mewls. He could see the wet spot forming in your panties and felt the usual pride in his mind bloom. Only he could have you wet so easily and damn, if that didn't skyrocket his ego.

He kissed the wet spot, the juices now glistening onto his pink lips and he pulled back. You whimper as he does, and he wants to coo at you and tease you for being a greedy pet. But he doesn't, it's a reward after all.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to your forehead before his hand grabbed the box of make-up wipes. You still hadn't said a word, letting him do his thing. He gently wiped the makeup off your face, clearing you of the chemicals he hated but you had to apply them to stay in fashion.

His fingers then gently take off the earrings you had worn, and then one by one all the rings you had except the wedding ring of course. His touch had lingered during all of those actions, making your body heat up and your panties soaked. Soft sighs escape you as he continues to adore you in such a gentle manner. As if you're made of the most precious diamond but easily breakable without care.

That's what he might have thought of you. So damn important to his sanity but any action of yours can damn him to hell. A risk, a liability to everything he has. But in his mind, you're worth it all and he has done every single scenario where things can go wrong, so many sleepless nights dedicated to these thoughts.

Snow lands on top.

Nothing you can do can mess him up, nothing. He makes sure of it with his every living breath. It's the reason he can spoil you like this, be a deserving man to his wife otherwise Coriolanus Snow is a monster (and you know that and accept him anyway).

He unzips your dress, his lips now pressing a heated kiss to your nape as his fingertips trace your bare skin. His touch was cold as ice, the heat of your body cooling down to his touch. It gave you relief momentarily but it was clear that you wanted more. The whimper that left your mind as he unclasped your bra was enough proof of that.

With your breasts set free from their confines, Corio’s hands begin to knead your soft tits. His eyes look into the mirror as he watches himself message your soft breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples making the sensitive pebbles hard. He rolls the buds, playing with them until you moan, your body flushing with lust in your veins. You begin to rub your thighs, getting desperate for any sort of friction but you force yourself to stop as he tsks near your ear.

“Don't, doll,” he whispered as one of his hands began the journey of going down on your body, the heat of his palm onto your tummy and then so close to your clothed pussy. “Spread,” he commands and you follow without embarrassment or hesitation.

Your soaked panties come into your view through the mirror and you want to look away from the shyness you still had but didn't. Instead, a whine escapes your lips that makes Coriolanus chuckle. “Such a needy pet. I will take care of you, darling. No need to worry.”

You moan as he refers to you as darling for the first time. Your cunt clenching desperately around nothing as your mind gets dizzy. There was something about how he had said it. Soft and warm, his voice dipping a bit lower as he pronounced the letters and it was tinged with a feeling he wouldn't associate himself with.

Love.

You whimper, “Please” and he hushes you as his fingers snap the band of your panties before he dips a single finger onto your wet folds. He smirks, his face looking into the mirror to gaze into your glazed eyes. “Pathetic,” he muttered and you didn't bother to take offense, his words turning you on as much as his finger circling on your clit was.

A broken moan escapes as his fingers decide to pinch the sensitive nub, and he coats his fingers with your juices. A string of sticky white cream on his digits as he takes his hand out of your panties and places his covered fingers inside the wet carven of his mouth. He expertly sucks clean of his fingers, popping them out of his mouth with an obscene sound.

He smirks to himself as he relishes the taste of you. His. Just his you were. He leaves you there, alone on the chair as he walks to the bed. He wasn't wearing anything except for his pants. His suit and shirt were taken off earlier.

You waited for his further command as he got himself comfortable on the bed. “Come here,” he said and you listen. You take off your wet panties and let them stay ruined on the floor as you practically crawl to Coryo. You straddle him and wait some more.

He doesn't say anything, his face blank but his sky-blue eyes heated. His hands were on your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there, making sure to grip you tight enough to mark you.

His tongue comes out to wet his rather dried lips. Your breath hitches as you see it and the sight of you being so affected by such a simple action made him feel like a. . . Lord.

He doesn't say anything, but did he need to? You knew him all too well, so you don't question yourself as you begin to move. The new position had you gripping the headboard while his hands shamelessly groped your ass, even occasionally giving small sharp slaps onto the flesh, making it red. It was simply another way of marking you.

Meanwhile, your eyes were closed, your mind forgetting about the existence of reality as his hot breath hit your glistening folds and made you quiver. “Go ahead,” he permits you.

Not even a second later, you begin to ride his face. He groans as his lips meet with your cunt. His tongue begins with broad, messy strokes of your pussy, gathering as much as your juices possible. All the while your eyes roll back and you moan. A sharp slap on the flesh of your ass has you grinding yourself onto his face. His nose nudged your sensitive, swollen clit perfectly as his tongue continued to swirl and flick around your cunt with calculated broad strokes that made you whine his name.

Soon his mouth finds your clit and begins to relentlessly suck your bundle of nerves. You cry out, pleading that this is too much and you can't- can't take it! But your begging was unheard and your pleas turned into louder moans, whimpers for pleas, and more. His sucking gets harsher and the overstimulation makes your mind reel. The warmth that was gathering in your lower body begins to spread all over, turning your bones to jelly and your mind to nothing as you cum onto his face. The rolls of your hips slowly as he continues to lap at all the cream released and your pussy keeps on spasming.

Your mind wanted more so you decided to take more. You had understood this was a reward for being good. So you can be a bit bad for now. So despite his grunt of displeasure as you get off his face, you quickly find yourself getting rid of his remaining clothes.

His cock was hard, the red tip angry and gleaming with pre-cum that coated most of his length. The sight had you salivating. Coryo knew you were nothing more than a cockdrunk slut and he called you that, you feel yourself glow from his words, not finding the word even a little bit degrading.

“I love you,” you mumbled as you lowered yourself onto his cock with a wanton moan echoing through the room. He groans, “Fuck yourself good, pet. You're in charge of your pleasure tonight. Go ahead, dove.”

“Yes, Coryo,” you whine as you feel yourself full of his cock. You felt yourself squeezing his thick length, a gasp escaping you as you tried to get used to his cock without being prepped. A groan could be heard as he felt his dick getting squeezed by your wet, tight cunt.

He wants to fuck into you and he almost does. But Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman and a gentleman kept his word. Especially when he can see his wife looking so fucking pretty being fucked out from his cock merely twitching inside her walls.

“Begin,” he demands, his voice haughty and filled with lust but you weren't ready. However, you couldn't bring yourself to care. You begin to rock your hips, slowly at first, you let yourself savor the action of his cock grinding against every hidden pleasure spot inside of your cunt. You moan as your pussy takes his cock deeper until his tip is pressed right against your g-spot making you see stars. You begin to grind back and forth so he keeps hitting that spot, you begin to sweat, your thighs clenching, and you couldn't keep focus as pleasure feels your every vein and his cock making you dumb. Simple actions seemed impossible to you and you wanted to beg him to take over, to make you cum again and again until you were broken.

He was unaware of your turmoil, his eyes onto the sight where his cock meets with your cunt, the combined fluid of his pre-cum and your slick dripping down onto his skin. The sight was filthy and he loved it. He clenched his jaw, trying so hard to be a patient gentleman to his wife.

He treated this like a test against himself because he knew what you did to his self-control. You aren't going to win this, he's not going to let go. He will not fuck into you like an animal, he refused to.

But was it losing when you were out of it like this? As if you were truly nothing but a dumb slut who just needs to cum. He decided that this wasn't a loss, but a win. He was doing you a favor when his hips began to snap upwards, his cock thrusting inside of you faster than the pace you had set. It was a pity that he felt so that's why he went back to his words. He was in control of your pleasure and he always will be. Self-control had nothing to do with it, he told himself.

You scream out in pleasure as several spanks are delivered onto your ass, turning the flesh red. It was clear that you liked the sting because of how tightly your pussy suffocated his dick after each slap. ‘Fucking whore of a wife’, he thought. He doesn't voice his thoughts but merely grins at the sight of tears filling your eyes. His dick twitched, an indication of being close.

However, he had to make you cum on his cock first. His hips begin to rut in faster into you, his hands holding you down as he thrusts in faster and harder. His dick kissing all of your hidden spots you didn't even know existed, his cock was perfect.

All you could do was take and take the reward he was giving you. Tears of satisfaction fell down your cheeks and it nourished his pride. You begin to ramble as you get closer to the edge. You ramble about how perfect he is, how much you love him, and fuck you can't think- you can't think. He is perfect, perfect, perfect.

Each of your praises makes him fuck you harder, deeper, a thrust so deep that his cockhead kissed your cervix making you gasp from a hint of pain and a hundredfold of pleasure. You begin to cum, and he shallowly thrusts into your cunt as you ride out your high. Your pussy spasms continuously around his cock as you cry out from being overwhelmed.

“That's a good girl,” he coos at you, “that's my girl.” You whine, your mind unable to process his words. You couldn't even sit up anymore, your body falling onto his. He wraps his arms around you, caging you to him. “My perfect wife,” he whispered as he continues to fuck into you despite your protests of being too much.

He doesn't listen to your pleas, his reward for you ultimately was his cum. Now he can't stop until he finds release himself, otherwise, how would you get your gift, right?

So he continues and it doesn't take more than a few minutes to fuck his thick, hot load into your womb. You whimper as his cock slips out and sighs in relief. You were in his arms and will be so for the rest of the night.

Coriolanus Snow wondered briefly if you liked your reward if not, well you have full access to his credit cards.

@skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea @daughter-of-the-stars11 @blippys-blog @iguanagwen @moonlight-by-the-sea @snowlandstop @badbleep88 @hobireasns @floswife @weeeoosworld @ludasgf

@sushirolliee @poppyflower-22 @dilucpegg3r

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divineidolatry · 7 months

Text

CONSTANTLY IN THE DARKNESS — CHAPTER TWO

— written by june.

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader*

rating: explicit (18+) — mind the tags, see masterlist for disclaimers

summary: against your wishes, you call the curtain on your relationship with coriolanus snow and walk out of his life for good. against your wishes, he waltzes back in like nothing's changed.

taglist: comment on the masterlist to be added to the taglist.

wordcount: 6,747

index: previous chapter

Coryo, ever good at playing the gentleman, gets out first and offers you a hand, which you take gratefully. It’s comforting, being able to lean on him for stability as you cross the pristine and empty lobby to the elevator. It’s all familiar. Nothing has changed. Even the staff remembers your name. It’s like you never left.

He puts a hand over yours, looking at you with that cool expression of his that you know so well, full of poise and elegance, but there is an unmistakable pull in the air between you. The elevator doors open and he bows his head to the neighbors coming out, exchanging a brief pleasantry, and you put on a pleasant face. Part of you wants him to see you still hold the value you promised: perfect at his side, controlled to the very end.

When the elevator doors slide shut and the gears begin pulling it up, he releases a sigh and pushes you up against the gilded walls, hand dropping down to your hips.

“I missed the scent of your perfume in here,” he whispers in your ear, and it’s hard to trust him, hard to believe he means any sweetness he says — but what’s the harm? He buries his nose under your ear and inhales deep, his breath hot and humid against your skin.

You swallow, licking your lips, watching the floors pass by. 10, 11…

“I missed the scent of you.” His lips graze your earlobe and you can’t hold it back anymore — you missed this, you missed him, you missed his skin pressed to yours, his touch. You moan, and as the elevator slows down as it gets to his floor, you feel him smile against your neck.

The board is all his.

He wastes no time scooping you up to carry you to the bedroom, tossing your fur shawl off to the side somewhere between entrance and bedroom. Setting you down on his bed, he pauses for a moment, looking at you like he has discovered a piece of priceless art thought to be lost to time. You stare back, pulse quick, blinking too much, wondering when the bubble will burst. This is delicate, too delicate, you were supposed to be clashing, ripping clothing off one another, begging for release — and instead there’s a tender fondness lurking in the room, offsetting your balance.

“Coriolanus…” Your voice is barely more than a breath. He stiffens a little, annoyed that you’d dare disrupt his reverie.

And that’s the thing. Even though you are here, there is that tug in your heart that nothing has truly been resolved. You’re just a moth to the flame, likely to get burned.

You squirm under his gaze, wanting him to take you, touch you, tease you, anything. Instead, he just looks you over, inch by inch, his eyes roving and hungry. The fire in him is rising and you tremble, eager to be consumed, and you part your lips a little, wetting them. It catches his eyes and he comes closer, leaning over you toy with the pearls on the gown’s bodice. He tugs a little on them, not bothering to look up at you.

What game is he getting at now?

“Stay still.”

Ah, there it is. The command in his voice, something sharp entering his gaze. A terrible and pleasant shiver passes through you, your body knowing what’s coming before your mind catches up.

He pulls a butterfly knife out from his coat pocket, flicking it against the pearls of your dress, tearing them off and ruining the design. You pout, but he gently traces the knife along the velvet, cutting at the straps, his brow furrowed with intense focus. This is simply meant to debase you, to ruin you, to claim you. And when he pulls up your skirt, he will find you soaking through the silk and lace of your lingerie.

“Coryo…” Your whine brings his eyes back to your face. He looks entirely unamused.

“You know better than that, doll.”

“I liked this dress, sir.” You are huffy and indignant, and you know what that does to him, how it irks him to have you pushing back. It’s easy to read on his face, how he wants nothing more than to lift you up, shove you against a wall, and put you in your place, you begging and blubbering all the while.

And it is exactly where you want to be.

“I know. Stand up.”

No more room for debate. You do as told, turning your back to him as he slices the knife through the ties of your bodice. The sensation of cool air touching your skin makes you whimper, and he presses himself to your backside, letting you bask in the heat of him, a taste of what’s to come.

The wet heat of his breath against the nape of your neck sends goosebumps down your arms, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Do you remember your safe word, darling?”

You nod and he sighs. Is it relief? Is it joy? You aren’t quite sure, and he doesn’t let you linger on it before he turns you around and gives your ruined dress the gentlest of tugs, watching intently as your breasts spill out.

“There you are… starting to look like the slut you are.” His words are unforgving, and he smirks at the whine catching in your throat.

“Oh? Do you disagree? Good girls don’t usually give their exes fuck me eyes at a high society balls, or beg to be taken by them in the back of a car, now do they?” He sounds like a right prick, and you’ve never been more attracted to him in your life.

You shake your head, feeling the warm, salty sting of tears, and he steps close, pressing himself to you as he twists your chin upwards to lick at the wet trail running down your cheek.

“Crawling back to me like this, grinding against me like a common whore… just look at you.” He drags a hand up from your waist to grasp at your breast, pinching the nipple, appraising you in a way that has you pressing your thighs together, something he does not fail to note.

“I’d strip you bare now and give you exactly what you want if I were a better man.” His eyes flash cruel and dark, and he’s so dangerously beautiful like this. Like he wants to watch you turn to cinders in his hands if you’d let him — and you would. “But I don’t think you need that, no. You need to be debased. You need be used. Isn’t that right, darling?”

He wants you to admit it, beg for him to tease you, treat you like a whore, use and degrade you, and you are burning up with want for him to do exactly that.

You only hesitate for a moment before you nod, swallowing thickly. “Mhm. Please put me in my place, sir.”

He laughs at you, harsh and oppressive, but you can feel the growing hardness pressing against your lower belly. As easy as you are, he’s no better for when you drip ’sir’ from your lips like honey for his ego.

“Oh darling…” He runs a thumb over your kiss-swollen lower lip. “You can ask me much better than that. Remember, I’ve seen how low you’ll go to debase yourself for me, so let’s not play dumb, hmm?”

You swallow again and it feels like rocks. He has begun fondling your other breast, letting its weight feel some relief from the way he massages it, watching as your mouth goes agape when he toys with the nipple. Everything is betraying you, any argument you might make faltering in your head.

You close your eyes, jaw quaking with poorly contained need, an intense blush bleeding over your cheeks.

“Sir, I want you to treat me like the whore that I am. Please, punish and use me as you see fit, for I want nothing more than to serve as your slut.”

You sound so desperate and you hate how humiliating that is, but he steps back and pushes you back onto the bed, kneeling down to lift the hem of your dress and bunch it up around your waist.

“Let me see if your words hold any meaning,” he murmurs against the tender skin of your inner thigh. Like a starved man, he bends his head down and sucks at the gusset of your underwear, the sound so loud in your ears that you feel dizzy. It’s obscenely filthy, and you can feel his wet tongue through the soaked fabric, licking at the edges. When it makes contact with your skin, it feels like a bolt of electricity crackling through your nerves.

You lift a gloved hand to thread through his hair, holding him there and bucking into his mouth, stealing a moment of this. When he comes up, your hand falls away, surrendering to the dark and primal in his eyes.

“You’re soaked through, desperate, and what I give you still isn’t enough, mm?”

There’s a shred of defiance in you, and you cling to it like a weapon, leveraging it to egg him on. “I need more.”

He retrieves the knife from his pocket and trails it with a feather-light touch over your underwear. “Look,” he commands as he grabs one side, slicing the knife through, then repeats on the other, peeling the tattered garment away and throwing it to the side.

He sits back, smirking, smugly satisfied with himself. “Look at you. A fallen grace.” He shifts to the side, allowing you to look in the mirror across from his bed, and oh, you know what he means, you’ve seen the marble statues on show from the old world. Your ruined dress pools around your waist, tits hanging out, cunt dripping and accessible: there’s no other way to put it, he’s reduced you to a simple whore.

“You can dress yourself up in your finest, parade yourself around like the queen of high society, and charm the masses with your wit, but I know who you really are.”

Your eyes meet his, knowing he is watching your uneven breath, the minute movements of your body in response to his words. There is a cruel glint in his gaze as he continues to undo you with nothing more than his voice, the words dripping like honeyed poison from his lips.

“You’re nothing more than a greedy little girl who wants to be made to submit, to take cock in each and every hole until you forget yourself, to cum until you’re stupid and no one else in the world would want you… no one but me.”

He reaches down and cups a hand over your cunt, running a finger through all your slick, and there’s a twisted delight on his face.

“You’re dripping, darling. And I’ve barely touched you… what do you have to say for yourself?”

You writhe, bucking your hips against his hand only to find emptiness as he swiftly moves away, clicking his tongue at your greed.

“Ah, ah. Where are your manners?”

You hate him for it, the bastard, but he knows how to wring it from you. “Please, sir,” you whimper, clutching the bedsheets around you so hard you feel the nails tearing the fine fabric. “Please. Touch me. Spit on me. Do anything to me.”

You need him. You are under his thumb.

And he always knows what you want. For his cruel touch, you’d walk through any blaze — it’s the only thing that stirs you anymore, the only thing that feels real in this society of masks and charades.

Deep down, you hope that is what he sees in you too…

He pulls you off the bed and pushes your trembling body down on your knees. He sneers down at you with disdain, running a hand through your hair before he tugs at it to crane your neck up, causing you to let out a whining cry.

“What am I to do with such a filthy whore but use her for her intended purpose, right?”

You watch him, desperate with need. He releases your hair and slaps your cheek.

“You know when I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Do you think you can do that for me, hmm?”

You nod, thrilling at the touch even as it stings.

“Yes, sir.” You wince at how pathetic you sound.

“Good girl.” The words are a purr from his lips. “Now, I believe you know how to service me with that mouth. So show me what you’re best used for.”

Consumed with want as you are, you hastily undo his belt and unzip his trousers, licking the hard curve through his underwear. Your saliva hangs in thick strings between the fabric and your mouth, and he groans above you, fingers tightening in your hair. It spurns you on as you free his cock. You tongue at the tip, messy and wet, saliva already dripping down over your chin before taking it into your mouth, stabilizing yourself with a hand at his thigh. The hand in your hair softens its grip and he runs his fingers through your hair. You sigh around him, the touch so gentle, so pleasantly encouraging as you slowly take more of him in. His length and girth fills your mouth, and you push it as far back as you can take, and he lets out a hitched groan as you begin to bob your head at a languid but steady pace.

“That’s a good fucking girl.” His voice is low, heated. You’re already getting to him, and that’s good, but the praise gets to you too, leaving you whimpering around his cock and bucking your hips, wanting just a little touch, anything…

“You’re not really sucking like a proper whore though, are you?”

His other hand comes up to your hair and you feel his fingers comb through to establish a firm grip. You stutter a little, but pick up the pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him as deep as possible, relaxing your throat — if you just breathe a little deeper, maybe you can take him to the root, maybe…

“That’s it, that’s it, good little whore.”

And you can tell he means it by the laboured breathing. Your increased pace is met with him starting to thrust into your mouth, leaving you to choke and slobber around his cock, drooling and making a mess of yourself that drips down over your chin, spilling over your breasts. As you descend further to your place beneath him, you can tell he is doing the same, getting lost in the way he wants to take you, ravish you, own you. No role comes as easy as this to you — and he’s the one who could get you there with a snap of his fingers.

So you give him bite, just like when you first met. The slightest bit of teeth as he fucks your face, and you hear him moan shortly before he cums down your throat. You’ve surprised him, taken that from him, and it is a victory. Credit where it is due, however, he’s quick to pull out and let some of his cum hit your chest, turning you into an even worse mess. Even as you look more the part he wants you in, you can tell he is frustrated, and you’re thrilled to find out what comes next.

You watch — not without a little disappointed whine — him tuck himself back into his underwear, zip his trousers back up, and it isn’t long before he has a cruel grip at your chin.

“Open your mouth. Tongue out.”

He sounds furious and his expression leaves no room for doubt. You obey, and you know it’s coming before his cool saliva hits your tongue as he spits in your mouth.

“Close your mouth and swallow, cunt.”

You swallow, loudly, humiliatingly, and there’s tears welling in the corners of your eyes again, hot and shameful. You open it again without him asking, showing your clean tongue, showing how good you can be.

“Please, sir… I want to cum…”

He laughs at you. There are tears streaming down your face, you know he sees how desperate you are and all he does is stick the toe of his dress shoe against your cunt.

“If you want to cum, darling, you can rut against my shoe.”

You wish you had shame left, but he has ripped it clean out of you with how badly you need him. There’s no hesitation as you cling to his thigh, rocking your hips as you finally find an angle that has your swollen clit pressing against the smooth leather of his shoe, smearing the polished dark with your wetness. You’re close, you hate how close you are, rutting against his shoe, but the moans betray you, everything betrays you, and you look up to find him smirking down at you.

“You continue to impress me with how desperate you are for me. Your first orgasm of the night, and it’s going to be had clinging to my shoe like dirt.”

Sobbing, you rut harder, more desperate, because you need this. You need to cum, you need him to see you like this, pathetic with your need for him so that maybe he might take you, cruelty and all. You know he wants to, know he is as desperate as you from how he just came, he just wants you to play his games, debase yourself, and you’ve never had a problem with that before. The guilt of tonight only makes it sweeter.

“You’re close, aren’t you, whore?”

You nod, your body taut and trembling. “I’m so close, sir, please.”

And he denies you.

He pulls you up, your shaky legs made worse by the heels still on your feet, and he scoops you up to bring you over to his desk, plopping you down on it. The blubbery crying escalates, thick in your throat, vicious and demeaning. You were so damn close.

“Did you really think I’d let you?” He leans over you, grabbing your face. “You truly are a stupid brat.”

It’s a victory, you think, because he’s still upset you made him cum already, but it’s not a terribly sweet one all things considered.

“Stupid little whore thought she’d get to cum just like that?” He punctuates his words with gentle but firm slaps against your cheek, leaving the skin burning hot. “You’re the one who begged me to treat you like this. While you’re crying over that lost orgasm, remember all the ways you’ve debased yourself for me already. And yet you still think you have a say when you cum. Don’t be a fool. It doesn’t become you.”

You glare at him for that, pained from your need and furious for his words. He’s punishing you for leaving, you’re far too intelligent to miss that even at this stage and he knows as much.

He circles the desk where you are sat, seeming to think. The moment drags out, silent and unnerving, your sticky breasts cold in the chill air. It’s getting harder to predict his moves — and a part of you no longer wants to. You want him to wash over you with the ruthlessness of the ocean, drag you under into waves of pleasure. Anything his calculating mind concocts is a treat, however harsh it feels in the moment.

He nudges you into a standing up after a while, tugging your dress down and off, letting it pool around your feet. The gloves go with it, and now all you have on are heels that have become far too wobbly, and the pearl jewelry.

“Don’t move. Heels stay on for the night.”

Ah. You’ve played together like this before, he likes how they look on you and they act as their own sort of punishment, painful and demanding. He arranges you so that you sit straight up, hands splayed out on the dark wood surface on either side — and he makes you wait like that as he steps away to the drawers where he keeps his collection of tools and toys.

Looking around the room as you wait, you note little has changed; it’s as familiar as when you were sleeping here every night, spacious but well decorated, including touches you’d suggested to him. You figured he might have replaced certain things, things you were certain were just him entertaining your vision, but no, the room remains as much yours as it was his… It’s a strange feeling.

He stands before you again, snapping you out of your drifting thoughts as he sets a few things down on the desk behind you, and there’s a bit of an unreadable glint in his eyes. But it’s nothing good, it never is. He palms your breasts again, gaze focused on them as a smirk crosses his features.

“Sometimes I think I should fuck you up against a window so the entirety of the Capitol can see how gorgeous your breasts are, and know that they’re all mine.” He sounds serious, but as much as he would delight in everyone knowing how much he owned you, you knew he was far too possessive to ever let anyone else actually see you like that.

“But no matter, I can treat myself to an even better view, isn’t that right?”

It’s infuriating how smug he is, but you nod. He loves when you surrender to his judgement, accept your place with affirmations, reminding him just how much you want what he doles out.

He picks up a clover clamp, and as he pinches one of your nipples to attach the clamp you let out a whine. It pinches, it aches, and it’s going straight to your cunt, feeling so good and vicious all at once. He retrieves another, repeating the process, and then you see a tiny strand of pearls in his hand and at the center of it: a little weight. He loops one end into one of the clamps and you whimper pathetically as it tugs heavily at your nipple. The other end is attached and you want to cry, but refuse him the satisfaction, biting back.

“Now, I think a trade is in order.”

You don’t comprehend what he means until he reaches behind you to unclasp the double strand of pearls from your neck, pocketing it. You want to pull them back, they’re yours, he gave them to you, but you resist, pressing your palms down hard against the table. He’s pushing you, and you will snap… but not in this moment. You want him to put in the work.

He takes the last items from behind you into his hands, and pushes you back until you’re lying down on the desk. Circling you, he ties your wrists together in silk. It’s slippery and delicate, and you could break loose easily; it’s a test — of willingness? Loyalty? Weakness?

“You’re breathtaking.” It’s like a revelation from his lips, and far too emotional for you right now.

“Don’t—” Your protest is short lived as he puts his hand over your mouth, a warning.

“Do you want me to gag you too?”

When you shake your head, he releases you.

“I’ll say it again, then. You are breathtaking, always, and absolutely beautiful when you submit to me like this.” He is speaking softer, it’s a moment of vulnerability that kind of pisses you off, and on the other hand makes you want to sob. It’s unfair that he knows how to pull at you like this, knows just when to go so soft that it throws off your balance. It shouldn’t make you whimper and rub your legs together, but it does. His mask comes back up.

“Legs apart, slut.”

You don’t hesitate to do as you’re told now, watching with a held breath as he comes to stand between your legs. He sees the eager expectation on your face and quick as a flash, he slaps your cunt with a few light strokes, smiling wide as you cry out and try to press your legs together. He won’t let you.

“Ah ah. Not this time. You’re not getting away from this.”

Pulling the pearls, your pearls, from his pocket, he leans over you and runs them over your wet cunt, coating them in your slick. For a minute, he teases like this, lightly running them along your clit in fleeting touches, a brush of the smooth pearls and nothing more. You let out quiet moans, breathy little things, and he chuckles.

“You’re so filthy, do you know that?”

He takes the pearls and twists them until they encircle your clit, pushing on both sides to create pressure. It draws a ragged moan from you as you dig your nails into your palms, twisting in the soft silk ties.

Removing the pearls for a moment, he gives the weight connected to your nipple clamps a firm tug, leading to a keening wail from you, pulling it until you whimper and whine, your jaw quaking from how good and awful it feels.

He drops it back down on your tummy as if losing interest in it, and continues to drag the pearls around, every so often circling and pressing into your clit, giving you want you want only to yank it away moments later. When he does, he hooks a finger into the chain connecting your nipples and tugs, hard enough to remind you: pain and pleasure go hand in hand. It leaves you breathing heavy, silent tears running down your cheeks and onto the desk. You need release badly, worsened from the earlier denial.

“Remember, you don’t cum without permission.” It’s a stern reminder, and you know the weight of disobeying.

“Please, sir, please, I need to cum, please make me cum, please…” You cry and blubber and whimper, but he merely tuts at you.

There’s no relenting from tormenting your clit, then easing up or ceasing entirely while he toys with your sore nipples, the chain a cruel reminder of all you’ve surrendered to him tonight. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come close from this, you worry your palms may begin to bleed, and you don’t know how much longer you can withstand this. Theres a sheen of sweat across your body when he seemingly stops entirely and you watch with hooded, cautious eyes as he comes around the desk. You expect him to put the necklace around your neck again where it belongs, where he’s fastened it so many times, and instead he shoves the the wet, slippery pearls into your mouth. You whimper around them, tasting yourself, and he runs a gentle hand through your hair as you notice him straining against his trousers again.

“I’m going to fuck you now, doll. You’re allowed to cum when I do.”

You whine in relief.

Circling back to the other end of the desk, he undoes his trousers, freeing his cock of his underwear, and lines it up with your greedy cunt. He teases the tip along your wet folds, groaning as you buck your hips, trying to get him inside of you already. He pinches your clit until you still, your breathing twisted through with moans and whines, and when he finally pushes in, you swear you see stars as he stretches you open. It’s so good, it’s so filling, you have felt so hollow and empty all night and now he’s filling you to the brim with his cock.

“You’re so wet,” he groans. “Drenching my cock like this… you feel so good.”

It’s the sweetest praise you’ve heard all night.

He starts moving agonizingly slow and the tears continue to come against your will — it’s so much, how your cunt clenches around him, how badly you need him. You want relief and you want him deep inside, you want him to hit that spot and you want him buried inside you until you feel your clit rubbing against his skin.

His pace picks up steadily, and you can feel the weight between your breasts rolling and tugging, making you whimper from the tenderness. He reaches up to remove the clamps, each one eliciting a pained cry from you as the blood begins to rush back, leaving them even more tender and sensitive than before.

Everything in your body is alight from the stimulation and edging, and you feel every inch of his girth stretching you open. You haven’t been fucked in months and your body can’t get enough of his.

He grabs your hips, nails digging in as he picks up the pace, the thrusts growing erratic as he leans over you.

“Look at me,” he groans, and you do.

For a moment, you can’t see anything but him: he fills up all your senses, his words command your absolute attention, and his cock, it’s pushing you to breaking. Though your body is aware, your mind is a haze, and before you realize it you are clenching and fluttering against him, squirting and making a mess of the desk, of his suit, and biting down on the pearls so hard they break apart, spilling all over and making soft noises as they roll over the desk and onto the floor. You’re shaking and trembling and he’s still fucking you, chasing his own need, moaning as he does.

“Such a sweet, tight cunt for me,” he murmurs, licking a long stripe on your cheek were tears have rolled down. “I know you can cum again.”

Your whimpers are desperate, the sensation of him continuing to fuck you is verging on too much, but you cum again, and again, or rather you really never stop cumming. He delights in the mess he’s made of you, working one hand between your sweaty bodies to play with your clit. The sensation snaps the last strings in you, and you begin sobbing, reduced to nothing in the palm of his hand. He’s so cruel, his touch is horrid, and you want him, you need him, you can never get enough of him.

You hear him groan above you, his hips snapping against yours sharply, and you feel him cum inside you. He thrusts deep one final time and you both moan, the mess spilling between you as his mask breaks. He’s spent, and he’s vulnerable, and even though you’re shaking and trembling, you know you have him as much as he has you.

He stands there for a moment, staring down at you with adoration and something you cannot read. You’re sagged against the desk, spent, and you whine as he pulls out, cunt gaping empty. Some of his cum drips out of you and pools on the desk below.

“Messy, my cum leaking out of you like that.”

Your cheeks flush with shame, his gaze feeling too hot now as he gently strokes your clit again, pushing some of his cum back in. It’s obscene, the sound, the feeling, and you’re relieved when he undoes your heels before he unties your hands.

The game is over. You’re not sure who won, only how good and wrecked you feel, thoroughly fucked by the only man that has ever drawn out this side in you.

“You did so well, darling.” His voice is soft, but filled with the same heat you heard from him at the ball.

Your eyes land on some of the pearls scattered on the desk, a tired hand absently playing with one. You’re pretty upset they ended up ruined like that, but if he catches the sullen look on your face he doesn’t say anything, and you won’t be bringing it up. Some losses are inevitable in war. You can take it. The pearls had been like a collar, a profession that you were his. You taunted him with that at the ball but this wasn’t love, not anymore.

The complexity of it all settles back into you, and you blink rapidly a few times, trying to bite down on the mixed feelings. You’re broken up, and yet… You’re here. With him. And now?

He scoops you up silently, watching your face carefully as you look up at him. Neither of you speak as he carries you to the ensuite, easing you into the tub as he turns on the hot water, the level of luxury indulgences he could enjoy knowing no bounds.

You wince a little for the heat against some of your more sensitive areas, but you sink into the feeling, letting yourself finally relax after a long night. Though your eyes are heavy, you watch him, head in hand, as he undresses completely. A sight for sore eyes at least: his body is just as beautiful and firm as you remember it, a surprise to find under his handsome suits.

Gently, he helps you scoot forward, giving him enough room to slide in behind you, putting his legs around yours. He presses a kiss to the nape of your neck and your breath hitches. You kind of want to shout at him for being so tender with you, so romantic, but you’re still a little gone, and there isn’t much room for you to escape as you are. So you try to ease up, let him take care of you. You can try to quell whatever possessive notions he has later. Harder with the ones burning a hole in your gut, but you breathe in deep, leaning into his touch.

He doesn’t speak as he fixates on taking care of you, and you listen to his even breathing and the sounds of the bath, the clink of a glass cup being picked up, filled with water, then poured over your hair. Herbal shampoo that you know costs more than what some citizens spend on a nice dinner, massaged into your scalp. You feel like a prized possession as he rinses it out thoroughly before following it up with conditioner, gently run through the locks of your hair.

Slowly you feel yourself coming back up from the space you sank into as he washes your body, slowly and tenderly, cleaning of the sweat and grime of the evening. You sink further into him, resting your head back on his shoulder, and when he reaches down to help clean off your cunt, you sigh.

“Feels good,” you murmur. Shit. You didn’t mean to.

He chuckles and you feel the rumble against your back, but either he is too concentrated on his task, or he is pocketing that to use against you later. Maybe it is just a mercy he is offering you this once but… no, you know him better than that.

When he is satisfied with his work on you, he lets you both just sit there, bask in the ease of the moment. Surely he knows you won’t let it drift on forever, but it would be so easy to. He places a kiss to your temple and you would cry if you had it in you. He shushes you, as if he knows the inside of your head already, as if he knows each crevice of your mind… and maybe you can’t put it past him.

“We can fight in the morning,” he says, “just relax. You’ve had a long night.”

Well, at least he knows you won’t go down easy.

When the bath has run its course, he helps you towel off and carries you back to bed. Moments like these always make you almost mistake him for a gentleman. Almost. You don’t know all that lurks underneath, but the shadow flickers across him now and again, an abyss you could fall into. Maybe you want to.

When the two of you are tucked under the duvet, he lays a kiss to your shoulder blade and pulls you close.

“Are you alright?” His voice is nothing more than a whisper, and you know he is just checking in with you about the scene. Everything else is too complicated for such a question.

“Mmm, ‘m good.” The words are slurred and messy this close to sleep, and pressed against his body, his arm holding you close, you finally fall away from waking, dreaming of nothing.

Sunlight isn’t supposed to be this harsh this early. Still, as it starts to pour in through the tall windows of the penthouse bedroom, you rub your eyes and wince at how bright it illuminates your shame. You should not be here. It pounds like a depraved headache in your mind.

Despite the way he let your relationship fall by the wayside before, Coriolanus Snow is a possessive fucking bastard and you just played right into his need to keep you. You’re right back to where he likes to keep you, and you let your guard down and let it happen. Foolish. Greedy. Slutty.

He’s still sleeping next to you, arm draped over his face to blot out the sunlight. As quietly and swiftly as possible, you look around for something you can wear home as only your gloves and fur shawl wouldn’t exactly cut it. Not without causing a scene worthy of exile.

You’re not sneaking out, you fully intend to make good on his promise last night and get a few meaningful barbs in before you walk out of his life for good, but it would be best if you could do so fully dressed. Pretty certain you must have left a thing or two behind, you scamper over to the walk-in and peruse your options. Lingerie, a few pairs of heels, and a couple silk slips… not your first choice but it will have to do. With the shawl, it might be just chic enough for stepping out when your chauffeur arrives.

When you step out, his eyes are on you immediately, sat up in bed as he is. He’s watching you with a bemused grin.

“Leaving so soon? I was going to offer you a round two.” Bastard. He looks so fucking self-assured.

“How generous,” you say, flashing him a brilliant smile. “I’m pretty confident in telling you that won’t be happening in this lifetime, Coriolanus.”

“You sure? Last night you were cockdrunk like an addict. If I remember correctly, you even cried over how good it felt.”

He’s not wrong, the words are a blow because yes, part of you does want to stay but in the harsh light of day, your desire to play a better game rears its vicious head. He can’t get everything he wants with just a cocky snap of his fingers.

As you take another step toward the door, you watch his face drop, and you pause, looking back at him.

“Ah, I see how it is now,” you say, the words a dagger you can finally twist back in him. “You’re the one who doesn’t want me to go. If anyone is the addict here, it’s you.”

You leave the room, heading towards the elevator and grabbing your shawl on the way. You hear footsteps behind you but attempt to pay it no mind, waiting for the ding of the lift, but it’s taking too long and you feel his hands on you, shoving you against the wall before you realize it’s happening.

He kisses you hungry, a man possessed, pushing the slip up, dragging his fingertips over your mound. He’s desperate, he wants you to stay, he wants you and it’s a weakness. How rare to see him like this. You know you should push him away, but you melt into it for just a moment — and he breaks the moment as he bites your lower lip, too hungry for his own good.

Fuck. You let him open you up, push in and possess you. Again. You need to get out of here.

The elevator dings. Finally.

You bite him back, harder than he bit you, and when he pulls back in surprise, you push him off you. His lips are red with blood. His, you hope.

“Goodbye, Coriolanus.”

He watches you with a furious fire in his eyes as you wait for the doors to close — but there is a fire in your eyes too this time. A warning. You will burn him just as bright as he does you.

And despite it all, you know this is just the start. There’s no escaping unscathed.

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