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phoward89 · 11 hours

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Based on this ask

You've been married to President Snow for 25 years now and have 4 children between the ages of 20 & 9. When your 15 year old daughter wants to go on her first date, Coriolanus isn't taking it well. He's an overprotective girl dad.

Takes place in the Anti-Hero Universe

Your daughter, Demeter, was a total daddy's girl. She was spoiled and had Coriolanus wrapped around her little finger. Just like her 3 brothers, your daughter was the spitting image of her father. Platinum blonde curls, cerulean blue eyes, mile long legs, and a prominent nose.

Your daughter inherited your smile and your demeanor. You saw so much of your younger self in your daughter. More so than in your other children.

So, of course, Coriolanus had strict rules for his princess when it came to boys. Well, really it was only one rule. No dating until enrolling in the University.

Meaning Demeter couldn't date until she graduated from the Academy- at 18. But, you're sure that when that time comes a new rule change will come into effect- making her age of dating pushed up by a couple of years.

Demi was a bright girl in her first year at the Academy; she was adhering to her dad’s rule until one day she wasn't.

You, Coriolanus, your first born Cassian, his longtime girlfriend Phoebe (who you stopped the president from poisoning a few times since he couldn't stand the flippant girl), Demeter, and your other sons Caspian and Caelestis were gathered around the large, ornate dining table in the presidential palace for dinner. Despite being kept busy as the President, your husband was very adamant that the family ate together every night. Hell, the family ate breakfast together every morning too- in the sunroom.

Minus Cassian's girlfriend since Coriolanus did not let her live in the Presidential Palace. He's still pouting over the last poisoning attempt that you thwarted. One day, you're certain you won't be able to stop him and he'll succeed.

“Seneca Crane asked me to the Yule Ball and I said yes!” Demeter blurted out, an overjoyed smile on her youthful face, as the Avox served the first course.

You could hear a pin drop. Even the Avox paused in their motions of serving the tomato bisque to watch, wide-eyed, President Snow's reaction. Oh boy, everyone knows the one rule your husband had for your daughter. And Demeter announcing that she was asked out and said yes broke that one rule.

Even if it's for the Yule Ball, the rule of no dating is still being broken. Attending a ball or gala with a boy is considered a date. Or at least it is in the Capitol.

“I’m sorry, Demi, but you'll have to tell the young Mister Crane that you won't be attending the Yule Ball with him.” Coriolanus calmly, but cooly, told your daughter. Then he snapped his fingers and motioned for the Avox to continue serving the soup to the family.

Everyone’s eyes fluttered between Coriolanus and Demeter. Yours included. Would she accept her father's order or would she push back.

You knew exactly what she'd do. Hell, it was the exact same thing you did when your own guardian, your older half-brother, forbid you to see Private Snow anymore. You pushed back and picked Coryo; you're sure that Demi’s going to push back and pick Senaca Crane.

And you're right.

“Daddy, all of my friends are going to the Yule Ball. Everyone's going! And I'm going too, with Seneca Crane, whether you like it or not!” Demeter shrieked, only to loudly push her chair away from the table and storm out of the dining room.

“Demeter Juniper, come right back to the dining room! You haven't been properly dismissed yet!” The President orders in a loud, authoritative tone.

But your daughter didn't come back. In fact, you think she stormed off to her room. Not that you blame her.

You knew that Coryo would let her be; that he wouldn't chase after her. Demeter had him wrapped around her finger. She was daddy's little princess. The President would never make a scene by leaving the dining room to chase after her; he’d wait til after dinner to have a word with her.

Hell, this isn't the first time something like this has happened and it won't be the last.

The President took a deep, calming breath while motioning the Avox over. Once the Avox appeared at his side, he told the Avox, “Have a maid wheel a trolley full of all the supper courses to Demi’s room.”

Of course your husband was having the full course meal sent up to your daughter. Even tho she stormed off during dinner, Coriolanus didn't want her going hungry. He loves his children too much to ever let any of them go hungry.

The Avox nodded and took off to get your daughter's meal sent up to her.

“Now, let's go back to our soup.” The President said, causing everyone to pick up their spoons and begin to eat their tomato bisque.

“Mister President, maybe you should let Demeter go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. It could be the beginning of a sweet relationship.” The teal haired girl sitting next to Cassian has the idiotic nerve to tell your husband.

“Phoebe…” Cassian hissed warningly at his girlfriend while giving her a swift kick under the table.

“Yes, well, my son took you to the Yule Ball his sophomore year of the Academy and you've been a barnacle on the Snow family for years.” Your husband curtly told Phoebe, causing Cassian to cringe in embarrassment. “But unlike my sons, I have stricter rules for my daughter.” Coriolanus explained while pristinely bringing his soup spoon to his mouth.

“Phoebe, perhaps you should just enjoy the tomato bisque and not worry about how my husband and I raise our daughter or, in fact, any of our children.” You told the teal haired girl with a pointed fake smile while placing a supportive hand on your husband's under the table, on his lap.

Phoebe’s eyes went wide, but she silently nodded and went back to her soup. In fact, after your remark, everyone began to engage in light conversation while tentatively sipping on soup.

Coryo squeezed your hand, that was on his- on his lap, only to lean over slightly to tell you, “After dinner I'm going to talk with Demi; explain to her why she's not allowed to attend the ball with Seneca Crane.”

“Don’t be too strict, Coryo. Remember, she's young and likes Seneca.” You knowingly advised your husband.

“Hmph.” Coriolanus huffed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I know she's young. She's 15, my darling, and that's why I need to be strict on her about the subject of dating and boys.”

“Honey, my brother told me it was either you or them; I picked you. Demeter's all you in looks, but all me in personality. So, just don't push her too hard on this.”

“I know, my darling rose. I know.” Coriolanus sighed right as a maid came in to clear out the soup bowls.

As the maid left the dining room with a trolley full of empty soup bowls the Avox appeared with the main course. Time to carry on with dinner. They'll be time to deal with your daughter's dating drama later.

Demeter Snow was sitting on her bedroom floor, back against her bed, while thumbing thru fashion magazines. Since her Auntie Tigris was the most popular stylist and fashion icon Tigris, she was looking thru magazines to get ideas for her Yule Ball dress. A dress that her auntie would no doubt make for her.

The young blonde’s dog-earing a page in the magazine whenever a knock followed by her door cracking open and her father's head popping in with a simple, “Demi, it's dad. I'd like to talk.”, sounded out in the air.

“Come in “ Demeter flatly said while going back to thumbing thru her magazine.

Coriolanus walked into the room, only to frown whenever he saw the untouched food trolley near the door. “Princess, why didn't you eat?” He asked while making his way over to his daughter.

“I'm not hungry.” Demeter shrugged, flipping the page of her magazine.

The President pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a low sigh before sitting down on the floor next to his only daughter. Turning to the platinum blonde girl, he sternly told her, “Demi, don't starve yourself in protest. I refuse to have any of my children go hungry, so I order you to eat your dinner once we're done talking.”

“Fine.” Demi sighed.

Coriolanus snatched the fashion magazine right out of his daughter's hands while telling her, “I don't know why you're looking at dresses for because you're not going to the Yule Ball with Seneca Crane.”

“Why not? Everyone else is going with a date. Why can't I go with a date, dad?”

“Princess, you're not like everyone else. You're the president's daughter; you're not going to the ball with a date because it's just not proper.”

“Not proper my ass.” Demi mutters under her breath.

“Excuse me, young lady, but such language is not permitted in this house.” Coriolanus scolded his favorite child. He was appalled by her actions right now. He expected her to accept his word as law, but it seems that you're right about her. She's pushing back, much like you did as a teenager.

“And you know my rules, no dating until you're 18 and have graduated the Academy. That includes balls and galas, Demeter Juniper.”

“Everyone in the districts is right about you, dad. You're such a tyrant. A damn dictator.” Demeter hatefully spat out, taking the President aback. He never thought that his little princess would say such hurtful things to him, but she did.

Blinking, Coriolanus stood up. The President’s shoulders were shaking with a mix of hurt and anger as he told his daughter, “Since I'm such a tyrant; a dictator, you're grounded, Demeter Juniper Snow, and you're not attending any balls or galas this year. Alone or with a date.”

“That's not fair!” Demeter whined as he dad went over to the door.

“Life isn't fair, princess. Maybe your mom and I have been sheltering you too much, but you don't always get things your way in life.” The president told his daughter before leaving her room.

Your husband was in a sulking mood all night while in the family room with you and the children. He didn't seem like himself and when you asked what was wrong he just waved you off; said everything was fine.

You knew otherwise.

Everything wasn't fine. Your husband was hurting and you have an idea why. Your daughter and him had words; something was said that cut him down.

Wanting to get to the bottom of things, you excused yourself with the intention of checking on Demeter. On seeing if she wanted to come down and join the family. Your husband just nodded while nursing his glass of bourbon whiskey. Your younger sons didn't say a word, being too engrossed in their chess match, while your first born son just kept his nose in his book.

So, that's how you found yourself sitting on your daughters bed, holding her while she picked at her strawberry shortcake and complained about how unfair her dad was being.

“I understand you feel like it's unfair, but your dad has his reasons for his rules. And lashing out on him, saying that the districts are right about him being a tyrant and a dictator, wasn't right, Demeter.” You firmly tell your daughter.

No wonder Coryo's sulking. You can't imagine how badly your daughter’s words have hurt your husband. Coriolanus truly believes that his pro-Capitol and strict District political policies have made Panem thrive. And, honestly, after the bullshit you experienced in the Districts during your youth, well, you side wholeheartedly with the Capitol.

With your husband.

“But-” Your daughter began to protest, only for you to cut her off with a motherly, “No buts, Demi. What you said to your dad hurt him. He only wants to keep you safe.”

As your daughter put her half-eaten dessert plate on the trolley, you told her, “Your father works hard not just to keep us safe, but to keep the Capitol and all of Panem safe. For you to say such hateful things to him isn't called for.”

“Everyone else gets to go to balls and galas with dates; I just want to be able to go too.”

“I know, honey, but it's not that simple. You’re the president's daughter; people might try to take advantage of you for that.”

“Mom, Seneca Crane's really nice. He wouldn't try to take advantage of me.” Demeter told you with such conviction. She truly believes that Seneca was just a nice guy that liked her for her.

Sighing, you told Demeter, “I’ll talk to your dad about letting you go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. But, you need to go down to the family room and apologize to him.”

“Okay.” Your daughter nodded, accepting your terms.

Later that night, you're in your large master bedroom with your husband. You're wearing one of your silky nightgowns while sitting at your vanity, doing your nightly beauty regime. Coryo's lounging on the bed you share, dressed in a pair of silky red pajamas. His platinum curls are in their natural state and he's got gold gel patches on under his eyes to prevent bags. His face is also lathered in facial creams, to keep his skin hydrated and wrinkle free during the night.

You and Coryo are in your early 40’s, have been married for 25 years now, and have 4 children- one who's 20, one who’s 15, and the others that're 11 and 9. And after all of that life experience you still find each other as handsome and beautiful as ever. Even lathered up in your nightly beauty and skincare regimens.

“Now, I've got no doubt that Seneca Crane's a nice boy- after all I knew his aunt and she had a personality to die for, but I'm not letting Demi go to that dance with him.” Coryo told you, watching you with sharp eyes, as he sat against the king-size velvet headboard.

“I thought you said that Arachne was a bitch that got a broken bottle to the throat cause she was teasing her tribute with it?” You asked, brow raised, as you finished applying your body lotion.

“I did say that.” Coryo nodded. Running a hand over his beard (which he began sporting after receiving a scar along his jaw from an attempted mine uprising during a business trip in 12 that occurred about 15 years ago), he sighed, “Maybe if it was Heavensbee’s son I'd reconsider, but a Crane?”

You picked up your silver brush and began to brush your hair. “Coryo, I know how you feel about this, but we need to trust her judgment on this.”

“But-” Coryo began, only for you to cut him off with, “No buts, Coryo. Maybe we need to let her go to the Yule Ball with Seneca. Give her a tiny bit of leeway; show her that we trust her.”

“Fine…” Coryo relented with a defeated sigh. Pointing a finger at you, he declared, “But I’m giving him one hell of a shovel talk when that boy comes to pick her up for the Yule Ball.”

And your husband was true to his word. President Coriolanus Snow gave Senaca Crane the shovel talk of all shovel talks. In fact, Seneca was so nervous after that talk that he barely even looked at Demeter. In fact, after the Yule Ball he never talked to her again; made excuses to not be around her, etc.

Safe to say that President Coriolanus Snow scared away his daughter's first potential boyfriend. It could've been worse. At least he didn't poison the boy.

So, after the Yule Ball and the failed date with Seneca Crane, Demeter Snow went back to worrying about her studies and fashion. She didn't bring up the topic of dating again, much to her dad’s relief.

But in 3 years time President Snow would have to deal with his daughter falling for her tribute, but that's a story for another day.

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anisangeldust · 1 day

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Pretty when you cry 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: feelings are hard.

Pairing: young politician!Coriolanus x Fem!reader

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Coriolanus is stressed and needs you, emotional vulnerability, mentions of parental loss, crying.

A/N: just some heart-achy fluff bc I’m in the mood to coddle someone rn🎀

Masculinity and Bravado were drilled into the brain of Panems president since the day he was born, festering like an infection, multiplying like an invasion, until all he could feel was shame for feeling.

So often he’d find himself teary eyed, chanting soliloquies of “Men don’t cry, you aren’t weak, crying makes you weak.” like mantras around his apartment, such nonsense that those superior used to undermine his naturally empathetic soul.

It wasn’t until many moons later that he crossed your sacred path, your mere presence a soothing compress on his aching heart. Little by little, you cleared his night skies from its once insurmountable peril, the darkness that had consumed his soul was no longer seeping through his core, instead it soaked through his eyes, salty drops of crystalline water flowing down his milky cheeks.

At the moment, he was being comforted by his ever so generous and loving wife. The emotions he buried so desperately were now flowing like a river in front of his own personal Aphrodite, a tsunami of emotions flooding his soul, lapping at the weak spots of his delicate being. Never would anyone describe Coriolanus Snow as vulnerable, but right now he was. Your tenderness akin to the mother he lost so long ago, and his trembling frame that of a little boy. This is love in its rawest form, the ability to express vulnerability without judgement, the thing Coriolanus so clearly craved his whole adolescence.

Heaven was breaking down in your arms, having a rough day and coming home to you, the woman he loved with every ounce of his being, to have you hold his face and tell him it was all going to be okay; your murmured words like a warm compress on his aching heart.

So often he reminded himself that he was allowed to have bad days, being president was draining, and the cracks in his mask were deepening, he could no longer hide from the flood, he had to just make sure he didn’t drown. Luckily you were his life boat. Despite all his hard work, sometimes the darkness prevails, dawning cloaks of false serendipity, only to shed its light and consume your dignity. The darkness that clouds his vision, creeps into the corners of his mind, dampens his thinking, the darkness only you can cut through. He beam of light, his saving grace.

Coriolanus was a blubbering mess, your fingers running in his platinum curls a reminder that he was safe, that he was going to be okay. Slowly, he lifted his head from your chest and sniffled.

“I don’t deserve you..” he murmured, eyes red and puffy from crying so hard.

“Shhh, just lay on me baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you” you cooed, pressing his face back into the soft fat of your chest. As to which he happily complied.

The muscles of his shirtless back were relaxed, melting into you and your warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around your middle and hugged you like you were going to disappear if he let go, you were his most precious gem, a beauty unmatched by the most divine beings, a goddess amongst men, and Coriolanus was your most devoted apostle.

Slowly, his breathing regained stability, his pink lips no longer quivering, chest no longer heaving. You peppered his teary cheeks with kisses as he calmed down slowly. His mind slipping form consciousness as he fell asleep.

“I love you” he croaked gently, voice rough and tone uneven, the most vulnerable state Coriolanus Snow could be in, the one reserved for you.

“I love you too baby boy, so much. Now sleep, it’ll all be okay” you mutter as he flutters his eyes closed and lays on you completely, your own personal weighted blanket.

Coriolanus was truly sculpted by the gods, how else would he be so pretty when he cries?

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slaymitchabernathy · 3 days

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Society Smiles

| this story was inspired by the song 'Good Luck Babe!' by Chappell Roan |

| “when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night, with your head in your hands, you’re nothing more than his wife” |

"The most attractive thing about a woman is her smile."

Those words have been engrained into Soarynn's mind since she heard them one day at school. One of her classmates had asked their male Professor what he deemed the most attractive quality of a woman. The room had filled with snickers as everyone prepared themselves for a somewhat sexist answer. He'd chuckled and paced the front of the room for a moment before coming to a conclusion and uttering those ten words that changed Soarynn's entire perspective.

She remembered looking over her shoulder at Coriolanus Snow who sat in the back of the classroom with his friends. He was slouched in his chair, his legs spread wide as he leaned back. He'd given her a smirk and she'd felt butterflies in her stomach.

Since she was sixteen all Soarynn had thought about was getting married. Some girls didn't. Some girls had large ambitions and wanted to be doctors or politicians, to really change the world.

But not Soarynn.

Her father always supported her dreams, he was pleased to find that his high society daughter had taken a liking to their customs that some deemed "old fashioned." She attended cotillion classes, and learned how to be the perfect upper-class wife, the society darling.

Eyes bright, chins up, smiles on.

Soarynn was quite possibly the most well-mannered girl under the age of twenty-five in the entire Capitol. She laughed at every joke, smiled for every photograph, dressed effortlessly for every occasion, and above all, she knew her place. She never strived to be an overachiever or to be neck and neck with her male classmates.

So it was no surprise when Coriolanus Snow chose her to be his wife.

They began their relationship after graduating from the Academy. That summer before University was the time when Soarynn got properly acquainted with the personality of Coriolanus Snow. She found out exactly how he liked his coffee, how he liked to be addressed, greeted, treated and, above all, respected.

He expected perfection from her in every way. Neither of them could afford to falter, not when they were at the top. They attended galas and banquets together and he proudly showed her off. Coriolanus became a constant source of stability for Soarynn. If she ever had any doubts about how to act, he was quick to correct them.

He was quick to mold her.

Sometimes she wondered what her life would be like if she chose to go in the other direction if she craved more independence. She didn't linger long with those thoughts though, she couldn't afford to, not when there was a husband to make happy and people to please.

Coriolanus proposed a month after they graduated from University. Their wedding had been a high society wedding with all the bells and whistles. Soarynn had been positively glowing at all the praise their wedding received. Several news outlets commented on their wedding and it only fed both of their egos.

'Coriolanus Snow swoops up the Perfect Bride' 'Soarynn Snow was the Picture Perfect Bride' 'The Perfect Example of Capitol Wealth' 'Snow Lands on Top as Coriolanus Snow secures the Perfect Wife'

That type of praise meant everything to Soarynn. She'd clipped out the headlines from the newspapers to frame in their penthouse. If society deemed her perfect then she had to be perfect, right?

Soarynn felt herself questioning that way of thinking as she slipped on her dress for tonight's party. The Heavensbees were throwing an extravagant party to celebrate another year of the Hunger Games so the Snows had of course been invited. Coriolanus was good friends with Hilarius Heavensbee which meant they were always guaranteed an invitation.

Appearances mattered at things like these events so Soarynn had spent the entire day preparing herself to be the perfect society wife she was always meant to be. Her soft blonde hair was perfectly styled, not a hair out of place thanks to her favorite hair stylist. Some might see her getting her hair professionally done once a month as an extravagant expense, one that was not required. But Coriolanus had certain standards that Soarynn had to live up to and he was more than happy to pay for all her beauty treatments as long as he was the one to reap their benefits.

Soarynn got her nails and hair done monthly, not to mention the clothes she had custom-made for her and all the skin treatments she did as well. She was perfect.

Once she sat down in front of her vanity, she carefully applied a bit more powder to her face as the finishing touch for her makeup, not wanting to look like she was trying too hard. Because she wasn't, obviously.

Coriolanus walked in and tore all her pestering thoughts of out her mind the second she laid eyes on her husband. He was entirely too handsome for his own good and he knew it too. He was charming, sophisticated, hard-working, and above all, he was a Snow.

Being a Snow came with certain privileges that not everyone was given. It elevated your status almost to the one that the President possessed. Soarynn had marveled at how differently she was treated once he slipped that wedding ring on her finger. Coriolanus was used to this type of treatment by now but thought it was adorable how she'd reacted at first.

Soarynn was more than used to her new status by now and always expected to be treated with the utmost respect.

He walks over to his side of the closet, pulling open the drawer that holds all of his neckties. Most men in the Capitol are limited to a certain wardrobe. A nice suit, black leather shoes, and a white button-up to go underneath. But Coriolanus managed to spice such a simple formula up with things like neckties and cufflinks and set off quite the trend amongst the elite men.

“What earrings are you wearing tonight darling?”

Soarynn hears him but doesn’t quite register his question as her thoughts begin to creep back into her mind. Why did they even go to these things? Who cared about things like flaunting one’s wealth?

“Darling?”

Soarynn looks up to find Coriolanus standing right in front of her, a concerned look on his face. “Oh. Um, my earrings? I’m not quite sure yet,” she says, turning to face her vanity mirror again, “is there a certain pair you’d like me to wear?”

Soarynn knew her husband all too well to know that he loved getting to decide what she wore. And it helped that he had relatively good fashion sense. “I was thinking…these,” he says, pulling out a red velvet box from his pocket. Soarynn eyes the box through the mirror and her heart beats a bit faster that premice of a gift. When they were dating Coriolanus showered her with gifts and that’s continued throughout their relationship and into their marriage.

Sometimes it was a new handbag, other times it was a shopping spree. Soarynn’s favorite gift had to be her darling cat, Petunia, who Coriolanus claimed looked just like her when he was choosing which kitten to take home. Petunia had been a gift for their one year wedding anniversary and Soarynn adored the cat with all her heart.

“I assume these earrings will match your cufflinks,” Soarynn says playfully, turning and gently taking the box from his large hand, into her small and dainty one. Coriolanus chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “You know me too well.” She certainly did. Every moment, every breath, every smile and laugh was perfectly curated to please her husband and Soarynn’s husband was always pleased.

Soarynn smiles up at him before opening the box and she lets out a soft gasp. The earrings are beautiful. It looks as if a gold wire has been fashioned around itself over and over again until it was large enough to hold the large-looking pearl that hangs from the gold wiring. It’s stunning, really.

Soarynn runs her fingers over the jewelry, “Oh, it’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful.”

Coriolanus places his hand on the top of her head, smoothing her hair down, “Well I’ve been more than pleased with you lately, and good behavior ought to be rewarded where I’m concerned.” The comment isn’t lost on Soarynn, that she’s been well-behaved. He could’ve said that it was a token of his affection or that he simply thought of her when he saw the earrings but he didn’t.

He bought them because she was well-behaved.

And she knew that her husband loved her. He said it at the altar, in front of friends and family, and he said it when they were alone. But did he mean it? Did she mean it when she said it to him? Perhaps they were more in love with the ideas of each other rather than the actual person.

Still, she can't afford to linger in her pessimistic thoughts right now, not when they have somewhere to be. Coriolanus hates being late.

꧁ ꧂

"I honestly don't know what he expects," Livia says with a sigh, her red-colored lips turned down in a slight frown, "it's not like I don't want children. And yet Urban seems adamant on placing all the blame onto me." Soarynn nods as she listens to one of her good friends speak about her problems with getting pregnant. Livia Cardew married Ubran Canville two months before Soarynn married Coriolanus and they've been trying for a baby for quite some time.

Soarynn knows that Coriolanus wants children, expects children. But not right now. He'd even shut her down when she had asked about removing her birth control implant before their wedding day. "I can't afford any unwanted surprises," he had told her. Still, she'd love to have a child of her own someday and Livia does as well. "It's not your fault Liv," Soarynn says softly, "he's simply upset. You both are."

Her eyes travel along Heavensbee Hall until they settle on her husband, standing tall among the other Capitol elite men. It seems he's already been watching her because her blue-gray eyes meet his piercing blue ones for a moment before he looks back at Festus Creed, a close friend and associate of his.

"Well it's not about him, now is it?" Livia snaps, the alcohol making her tongue all too loose. Soarynn only drank socially and she made sure to keep a watchful eye on the level of her consumption through the night. She wouldn't want to embarrass her husband with a drunken scene.

Soarynn sighs and shakes her head, "No, I suppose it isn't about him. But do be patient, these things take time you know." Livia hummed but didn't seem too convinced, thankfully, the announcement was made that dinner was ready to be served. Soarynn was quick to find Coriolanus who placed a hand on the small of her back as they found their seats and then pulled out her chair for her. "Thank you," she says sweetly, watching as he takes his own seat.

He nods, "Of course darling. And have I told you how wonderful your hair looks tonight?" Soarynn is practically glowing from his words of praise. She'd gotten her hair done three days ago and it looked perfect. It was just the right length, color, and shine for a Capitol lady like her. "No, but you do seem keen on flattering me tonight," she teases, placing a hand on his knee. Coriolanus shoots her a grin before their attention is brought to Hilarius, their gracious host who is standing up to make a toast.

"Family and friends," he says, raising his glass, "tonight serves as another reminder of who we are. The best of Panem." A grumble of agreement passes through the room, everyone in this room is here for a reason. Because they're the elite, on top. "There's no other way I would want to celebrate another successful year of the Hunger Games than with the best company Panem can provide. To the Hunger Games." Soarynn repeats the phrase as she lifts her own glass up although the sentiment is slightly lost on her. She doesn't really care for the Games the way that others do.

Dinner is brought out in several courses and Soarynn remains ever delightful and polite whilst talking to those around her. "Did you see the girl Tribute from District Three?" Clemensia asks Soarynn as she cuts into her food. Soarynn shakes her head, "I don't believe I caught a good glimpse of her. Why? Was she offputting?" Most children from the Districts came to the Capitol covered in dirt and ridden with diseases. That's why they were kept in the money pen at the zoo.

Clemensia scoffs and puts down her fork and knife before she leans towards Soarynn from across the table, "Worse than that. She was actually somewhat attractive! If she was given the proper styling then she could've passed for a middle-class Capitol citizen." Soarynn furrows her eyebrows at that claim, and it's a rather bold claim in her opinion. Soarynn clears her throat, "Well, I'll have to watch back and see what she looked like."

The grin on Festus Creed's face lets Soarynn know that she's in for a rather vulgar set of words about this Tribute. "She made me want to hop into the arena for a few minutes," he jokes, pulling some laughs from the men around them. Including Coriolanus. Soarynn eyes him but says nothing, it's not the right place or time. "She was rather attractive," Coriolanus admits before taking a sip of his wine, "but looking like a heap of bones certainly wasn't helping her chances."

While Soarynn won't say anything, she can always count on Livia to speak up and she does without fail. "You do realize that you're talking about a child right? And one from the Districts no less." Festus rolls his eyes and shoots Urban a look, "Perhaps you aren't used to the way men talk when women aren't present Livia, but this is skimming the surface of the topics we discuss when we're alone." Soarynn frowns and sets down her cutlery, no longer hungry.

Does Coriolanus talk about her this way? Or other women for that matter?

She's done everything right to keep him interested, to keep him happy. Is it not enough?

꧁ ꧂

"You always know how to make my good nights a great night darling," Coriolanus grunts as he thrusts into her again. Soarynn gasps and her back arches off their bed, her nails digging into his shoulders, "Thank you," she whispers. He'd been in a great mood after the party, probably because he spent the majority of it talking about the attractive qualities of other women. Soarynn had smiled through the entire ordeal, her professor's words ringing through her head, "The most attractive thing about a woman is her smile."

She held onto those words like a lifeline tonight, desperately attempting to stay above the water. While the men openly discussed women's bodies, how they wanted them to look, to act, Soarynn was the quiet and obedient wife her husband always expected her to be. She was perfect even though it killed her inside.

She can feel his thrusts beginning to grow more erratic and she knows he's close, "Fuck," he grits out, his hands squeezing her hips tighter than before, "your cunt does it for me every time Soarynn." Soarynn lets out a whimper and it's not from pleasure as he husband finishes inside of her. Normally, she loves it when they have sex, when he finishes inside of her and says all sorts of things to her in the heat of the moment. But not tonight.

Coriolanus pants above her before pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Let me finish you off." Soarynn is quick to shake her head and plaster on another smile, "It's alright," she tells him, "I think I'd rather just wash off and go to bed." Coriolanus has always been a good lover in the bedroom, making sure that she always reached her peak as well but she's not in the mood to be touched and manipulated tonight by his fingers or his cock.

He frowns and gently cups her face in his hand, "Is everything alright? Did I hurt you?" Soarynn sighs and shakes her head again, "No, everything was perfect as always. I'm just a bit tired is all." That seems to be enough to convince him because he nods and helps her into the bathroom where they shower together, washing the day off of them. "Livia certainly has a mouth on her," Coriolanus mumbles as he wraps his arms around Soarynn, resting his head on her shoulder. Soarynn hums and watches the water wash down the drain, "She's just more outspoken than other women." She's dealt with enough beratement of women tonight and she won't see one of her good friends fall victim to it as well.

His hands splay out across her stomach, "Makes me glad you know how to behave. I bet Urban set her straight the second they got into the car. I can't imagine having to deal with that behavior on a daily basis." Soarynn pales at the words he so carelessly uses when talking about another human being. Rarely does Soarynn ever get snippy or bratty with Coriolanus, and when she does he's quick to put her back in her place. "Well it's a good thing we get along so well," Soarynn says softly, her stomach now in knots. Coriolanus presses a kiss to her neck, "My thoughts exactly darling."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn dreams that she's a Tribute in the arena.

It's down to her and that girl from District Three that the men wouldn't stop talking about. Clemensia was right, she's quite pretty all things considered. Both girls are battered and bruised and Soarynn can hear the crowd screaming out for them to finish each other off. She looks up at the crowd and spots Coriolanus along with several of their friends, all their gazes scrutinizing as they look down at her and her current state. Her bottom lip quivers as she realizes that she's been reduced to the likes of a District citizen and all for their entertainment.

"Well," the girl calls out, a spear in her hand, covered in blood, "it's just you and me then." Soarynn frowns and looks back up at Coriolanus. Why isn't he helping her?

The girl notices him in the crowd as well and she laughs. She laughs so hard that she begins to cough up blood, "He...he doesn't care about you," she wheezes. Soarynn shakes her head, her fingers tightening around her own bloody spear, "You're lying. He's my husband." The girl tilts her head and a cruel smile spreads across her dirty face, "Then why are you in here and not up there with him?"

Soarynn feels her mouth drying as she searches for an answer and the girl nods, "See? You're just entertainment for him, something to show off and fuck whenever he's bored." Soarynn shakes her head fervently, "No I'm not. He loves me." The crowd grows louder and louder, eager for bloodshed. "Get on with it!" Someone shouts, "Prove your worth you dirty girl!" Soarynn doesn't know who they're talking to but it spurs her into action and she takes off running towards the girl. Their spears clash against each other as they fight to the death. Soarynn shoves her spear harder and throws the girl off balance.

"KILL HER!" The crowd screams.

Soarynn pulls her spear back and runs it through the girl's abdomen, watching her fall to her knees before she falls over. Soarynn pants as she looks up at the crowd, for Coriolanus and his nod of approval but instead finds him laughing, mocking her. "The winner of the Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow's wife," the announcer's voice booms throughout the arena as the crowd cheers.

Soarynn falls to her knees, was that all she was? His wife? She just won the Hunger Games and yet Coriolanus was given more credit than she was. The girl coughs up some more blood as the life slowly fades from her eyes, "I told you so," she whispers before she takes her last breath.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn wakes up with a gasp, clutching the sheets as she looks around the dark bedroom. Coriolanus is sound asleep next to her, not a care in the world. Soarynn feels sick like she might throw up. She hasn't had a dream like that ever in her life but she feels horrible. It felt so real.

She thinks about waking up Coriolanus, asking for words of comfort and kisses and hugs but she decides against it. He'd only tell her what she wants to hear before rolling over and going back to sleep.

A single tear falls down Soarynn's face as reality begins to hit her. Whether in the Capitol or the arena, she's only of value as long as she belongs to him. As long as she's his wife.

With her head in her hands, she's nothing more than his wife.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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tomblythismyhusband · 4 hours

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not an act [tomblyth x actress!reader]

[summary]: tomblyth x actress!reader|anon request| You and Tom revel true feelings for eachother one day on your movie set and months later you finally decide to hard launch your relationship.

[warnings]: 18+, MDNI, age gap [22+29], language,

[wc]: 2k

[note]: thank you for the request!! it was so fun writing something a bit different! It’s kinda short but wtv :)

You’d been filming this movie for weeks now. Scenes were pretty tame so far, what you’d expect from a romcom. Picnics, breakups, standing out in the rain with nothing but shivering bones and a love confession.

Your co-star wasn’t too bad either. You were working with Tom Blyth, an attractive Britis h actor who had been in a few movies before you. He was much more experienced with this whole thing. While every aspect of the movie making process excited you, Tom was much more accustomed.

You sat in your trailer, sipping hot tea while checking your schedule for the day. The warm liquid slid down and soothed your throat from the scene work of the day prior. Your quiet was soon interrupted by a sharp tapping at the door.

You lifted your head. “Come in.” You called.

The assistant director, Amy walked in, clipboard in hand, hair in a loose knot at the base of her neck. She looked frazzled- but to be fair she always did.

“Good morning, Amy.” You smiled, placing down your tea and coffee on the little kitchenette counter that took up a good portion of the trailer’s interior.

Amy gave you a brief smile, whipping out her clipboard so it was in front of her. She lifted one of the paper’s, reading something then met your gaze again.

“We’re doing the sex scene today.” She said, scribbling a note on one of her papers.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to pick up your schedule again. Your eyes skimmed it quickly, not seeing any words alluding to a sex scene anywhere.

“Amy, I don’t have that on my schedule..” You said looking up from your paper in confusion.

When you looked up Amy was hurriedly typing away on her phone, preoccupied. She didn’t seem to hear you or your concerns.

You cleared your throat. “Amy.”

Amy’s eyes shot to you, wide and attentive. “Yes love?” She said, though you knew her mind was on something else.

You held up your schedule, displaying it for her. “I don’t see that a sex scene is scheduled to film anywhere on here.”

Amy gave you a bored look, almost like she was just remembering how new you were to the movie making process.

“Yes- well, plans change. So get your robe on and get to wardrobe and hair and makeup.” With that her phone rang, so she placed it up to her ear and walked out of your trailer without another word.

You were left speechless, schedule still held up. You put it down, anxiety starting to bubble in your gut. You’d never filmed an explicit scene before. You knew when you auditioned for the film there was a sex scene but you were so eager to have a big break that you agreed to anything.

Your mind then drifted to Tom.

A sex scene. With him.

You couldn’t deny the fact that he was absolutely gorgeous- the way most Hollywood actors were. The director had said you and Tom’s chemistry was impeccable, so working with him was always pretty lax. Sometimes you’d find yourself blushing or giggling with him and realize- you weren’t acting. Tom was the type of guy that could make anything a joke and you liked that about him.

You would totally hit on him more if it weren’t for- well- the age gap. That was the only factor that was constantly bringing you back to reality. While Tom was 29 you were a whopping 22. You didn't even start drinking legally till this year. You doubted that Tom would even want a relationship with someone so young anyways.

You sighed, grabbing the fluffy white robe that hung neatly on the door of the bathroom and slipped it on. This was your job.

You pulled on some shoes as well and opened the creaky door of your trailer, the summer air instantly warming your face.

The romcom took place at a beach house. Two people, Tom and you, find themselves to have had a booking mishap where they mistakenly have to share a beach cottage on vacation. They hate each other at first, but then obviously through sharing a long beach vacation they end up falling in love. You doubted a situation like that could ever occur, but hey- that’s the fun of movies right?

You made it to the wardrobe, where they gave you a nice light blue bikini and a sarong. Next you headed to hair and make up where they styled your hair in waves along with light minimal makeup.

Finally, you stepped down the steep steps of the makeup trailer and walked along the sand to the beach cottage. It was a cute little thing- nice and quaint, full of natural light, secluded. As you walked to the house you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves.

You knew the basic rundown of the scene. Tom’s character sees your character getting ready to go to the beach. Unable to reach her back to lather with sunscreen, she asks Tom’s character to help her. Tom’s character does so- (the tension unbearable at this point) and then boom, what do you know? Now he’s kissing the shit out of her, as she pulls him into bed.

Of course you’d kissed Tom so far throughout this movie but picturing him on top of you was a thought that could make you blush.

You arrived at the house and props were already setting the area. You walked in and made your way to the bedroom where you spotted Tom getting a rundown of the scene from an intimacy coordinator. When you walked in, Tom's eyes flicked to you.

He seemed to be surprised- or was that impressed? You couldn’t read his expression, but all you knew is that the bikini you had to wear definitely flattered you.

“Sorry I’m a bit late- I had no idea we were filming this scene today.” You said breathlessly. The intimacy coordinator waved a dismissive hand.

“You're okay, I just started to go over everything.”

You then stood next to Tom as the intimacy coordinator gave a whole spiel about how the scene would play out. It was simple enough, a lot like how most sex scenes would go.

Towards the end she directed her gaze to you. “Now, in this scene we were thinking of having your breasts exposed, is that alright? I know on your contract you said you were okay with it but I just would like to double check.”

You opened your mouth, thinking. Finally you nodded. “Yes that’s fine.”

“Great!” The coordinator smiled. “Now that you guys are all set I’ll go let the director know we’re ready.” She then walked off leaving Tom and I alone.

You glanced at him, nervous, but reassured at the fact you were both professional.

“Nice bikini.” Tom said, glancing at you. Your cheeks warmed at the compliment.

“Thanks.. nice shorts.” You nodded looking down at the Hawaiian print swim shorts he was sporting at the moment. Tom chuckled, running his hands through his brown hair.

“Do you… wanna practice the scene?” You asked, tilting your head to look up at him. You could’ve sworn you saw a hint of blush in his cheeks.

“Sure.” He gulped, nodding. “The scene starts up against the wall.” He said slowly, taking your hand and guiding you.

“..Like this?” You whispered, as Tom gently pinned your wrists above your head. You dipped your head staring up at him through your lashes, like you would’ve done if the cameras were rolling.

“Perfect.” He responded in a low voice.

“Now I arch… like this.” You said quietly, extending your back, so your torso was pressed against his, wrists still held securely above your head. Tom took a shuttered breath.

“Now what?” You asked innocently looking up at him. You knew damn well what came next, but you wanted to hear it coming from his perfect lips.

“This.” He murmured, pressing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. You couldn’t suppress the feelings of lust in your body as he kissed you. His lips were soft- so soft. Molded perfectly to yours as if they were always meant to be connected. Though the kiss was nice, you could tell he was holding back.

When you broke from the kiss you looked up at him. Feeling bold you slipped your hands out of the light hold he had on them and cupped his face.

“I’m not acting.” You murmured.

Tom’s eyes widened slightly, then softened. His lips pulled into a small smile.

“Thank god- me neither. Now let me do this for real.” He growled.

He pressed up against you, taking his lips onto his own again, kissing you rough and passionate. His tongue slipped into your mouth, meeting your own. Your body felt hot at the sensation. There were definitely sparks, and you knew this was only the beginning.

—— 6 months later ——

“Baby- I’m home.”

You heard the familiar voice of Tom, from your apartment’s front door.

“I’m on the couch!” You called back as you lounged on the plush white sofa that sat in your living room. You lifted your head to see a smiling Tom, his hair all tousled from the outside weather.

He immediately sat down next to you and practically tackled you as he took you into his arms. You laughed as you tried to push him off playfully.

“You're crushing me!” You squealed, trying to wriggle out from underneath him.

“Good.” He laughed. You felt Tom squeeze you again, kissing up your body. Finally he let go, leaning back, a love drunk smile on his face.

“So I’ve been thinking…..” Tom prompted, taking one of your hands.

“That’s not good.” You replied playfully. Tom chuckled and squeezed your hand, enjoying your little jokes.

“Seriously though- so you know how our movie premiere is in a few weeks?” He asked, eyes meeting yours.

You nodded. You’d finished filming almost 3 months ago. Finally the movie was close to its release day. You were both excited and nervous for it to come out. You really hoped that it was received well by the public.

Tom looked down at your hands that were wrapped in his own.

“I really want to be by your side on the carpet.”

You hesitated for a moment. “Tom- that’s very much in public.”

He looked up at you. “I know…”

You sighed. “You know how I feel about this… the media.. I mean- I can already picture the things they would say about you dating someone younger than you..”

“Hey.” Tom said calmly, taking your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks in a calming manner. “I totally get what you're saying, and I’m fine if you don’t want to.. but I just want to let you know, I’m ready. I’m ready for the world to know about how much I adore you.”

Your heart thumped in your chest at his words as heat flooded your face. He always knew what to say.

“I want to Tom.. I do… I love you.” You whispered. You then let out a low sigh. “It’s just.. It seems so scary to drop this news in front of the whole world at the premiere..”

Tom gave you a reassuring smile. “We could post a selfie right now- drop the news.”

Your eyes brightened at the idea. It did seem safer to share the news of your relationship from the comfort of your own home. You nodded and nestled closer to Tom as he pulled out his phone, opening the camera app.

You turned your head to kiss his cheek and he snapped a picture. You looked at the smiling photo of Tom and your pose, feeling more confident about the idea.

“Post it.” You smiled, nestling closer into him.

With a quick click of a few buttons Tom posted the photo to his Instagram story. He then placed his phone down and kissed you.

“I don’t care what anyone says- I love you.” He whispered.

“I’ll love you forever.” You whispered back, kissing him again. You felt nervous of course about the fact that your relationship with Tom was now public, but also excited for all the new experiences to come.

#tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x fem!reader #tom blyth one shot #tom blyth fic #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth smut #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth #tom blyth x yn #billy bonney x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #corio snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #billy the kid

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littlemissmiller · 1 day

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Bad Press (part 1)

Pairing: dark!toxic!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, slight sejanus x fem!reader

Summary: (au) after avoiding getting caught cheating in the games, a hopeful presidential candidate snow is fed up with your slanderous reporting, so he decides put you in your place

Warning: 21+ (drinking), eventually smut, blackmail, threats, dom!snow, sub!reader, slight jealousy, slight misogyny, obsession, power imbalance, porn with a plot

Word count: 2k

A/N: hi :) this is my very first public fanfic soooo please cut me some slack if it sucks, but if it doesn’t i have many many more in the vault so I appreciate the constructive feedback. this first part is just spicy build up which i could have posted as all one story, but it makes more sense to split it up (plus i love a good cliffhanger) anyways enjoy! part 2 is coming soon

Coriolanus is unsatisfied as he turns today’s papers. Today’s headline are insulting.

Presidential candidate’s poll numbers fall like Snow.

He reads the byline and is not surprised. You always write these nasty articles about him. You seem to be no fan of his, article after article all he reads is about how poor his politics are or criticizing his work. In the summer times, when the Hunger Games roll around, you always have something to write about. How boring they are or how as gamemaker, lacks the proper skills to keep the games entertaining. None of which was true, but that’s not what bothers Coriolanus. What bothers him is when people truly think they know more than they do. When they think they are smarter than they are. It’s pathetic and that’s what truly, truly bothers him. The arrogance. He flips the page and clicks his tongue, as he reads the next headline,

Plinth Presidential Potential?

He checks the byline, it’s you, your article. Again. Is this a game to you? A funny joke to be such a fantastic moron as to write such defamation? Once he was president, press would not be so careless in their writing. He sips his tea squinting at the article and the black and white photo of his longtime classmate and friend, Sejanus Plinth. He didn’t even want to run for president, he didn’t care for the privileges of his life. He would much rather be back in the reaping bowl if he could have his way. Nothing more than a little district brat according to Coriolanus. He folds the paper up, rises from his seat, and tucks the paper under his arm. As he leaves the dining room, he tosses the paper into the fireplace, not bothering to watch as the ink melts and the print is reduced to ashes. He storms to his bedroom to finish getting ready before another day at the lab with Dr. Gaul working on new mutants for next years games.

Coriolanus stands in front of his mirror, slicking back his hair, he tries not to let the headlines bother him. He couldn’t let you keep getting away with this slanderous behavior. Then it dawns on him. He knows exactly how to keep you in line. Later that week was The Candidate Gala which, despite the latest publication, Coriolanus would attend with pride and have his poll numbers even higher than they already are. He would…charm you. That’s a nice way to think of it. He would make sure to get you nice and wrapped around his finger then you’d behave. He realizes he’ll to need get leverage with you, use his connections to Dr. Gaul as a scare tactic perhaps? He thinks of what to do as he leaves his penthouse for the lab.

The Gala comes around quickly and Coriolanus was more than ready to attend. On the drive there, he thought about you. He knew you’d be there of course. The Candidate Gala always had invited reporters and he knew you, given your contrarian reporting recently, you would be an attending guest. The car pulls up and Coriolanus exits. He walks into the venue and immediately heads turn. He fakes a few smiles and waves to some familiar faces, but as he stalks the crowd, his eyes only search for your face. He looks around and then, there you are. Your long, silky, black hair as straight as an arrow as it grazes just above the small of your back. And your red dress, which hugs you just right, is hard not to notice as you stand there looking coy and annoyingly sweet. You casually hold a flute of champagne in your hand, it dangles from your fingertips as if it is about to slip out. You’re immersed in conversation with, who Coriolanus recognizes as another journalist. You flip your hair past your shoulder and laugh. You don’t seem to notice him as he stalks towards you. You don’t notice him at all and as he announces himself to you, you flinch slightly.

“Mr. Snow. It’s good to finally make your acquaintance.” You shake his hand

“That’s funny you say that given you seem to have me figured out don’t you?” Coriolanus sneers

At that comment, your friend steps away, excusing herself by acting like she sees someone she knows. You give her a knowing look, then turn your attention back to the handsome young blonde, who you allegedly despise.

“Look Snow, it’s nothing personal, I write fair.” You give him an innocent look, touching your hand delicately to your chest, causing his eyes to glance at the valley of your breasts. He flashes his eyes back at you, rolling them and huffing out a sigh of disgust.

“And your readers really believe Sejanus Plinth wants to announce his run for presidency? This late in the game?”

You shrug your shoulders knowingly.

“Well you never know. I felt that piece wasn’t too unrealistic. I laid out a pretty good case for a President Plinth.” She smirks putting extra emphasis on her P’s as she speaks.

Snow smirks back at you as you bite down on your red stained lip.

“You think you’re such a clever girl don’t you. What’s your game darling?”

“No game.” You shake your head, batting your eyes.

Snow’s eyes dart across the room, making eye contact with the same lost, lonely little boy who you have deemed as the next candidate for president. Sejanus notices and smiles at him, but Snow quickly turns his attention back to you. He leans in close, towering over you.

“You know the press wasn’t always so careless with their stories.” He starts, taking a glass of posca from a waiter as they pass by.

“There was a time where truth and facts held importance. Before the war, then journalists started speaking out of term. Writing lies, slander against their great Capitol.” He nods. You raise an eyebrow at him, beginning to wonder what is point is.

“A lot of scholars would agree that the immense amount of freedom of press is what led to the Rebellion. All the rumors floating around. No one knew what was true, what was merely a tall tale created by some journalist who just wanted to stir things up. You don’t want journalism to divest into some sorta fraud again right? That would be a real shame.” Snow recounts, emphasizing the few last words.

You realize how close he’s standing to you and take a small step back, your eyes never leaving his. You temper your breath, hoping he can’t hear your heartbeat as it races in your chest. His pretty, blue eyes pierce your own, poking at you to respond to him. He gives you a look as if he has just asked you if you like his suit or think the color looks nice on him. You feel caught off guard and slightly threatened. You sip your champagne and gather a newfound confidence.

“Be that as it may, I’m sure that people have learned their lesson. Besides, Capitol news doesn’t even make it to the districts anymore so if anything happens, and you don’t become president…” you pause, pouting at him slightly.

“…well, no one would know you there. Private Snow instead of President Snow would be the greater shame. Don’t you think?” You smirk, touching his shoulder briefly. You bid him a sarcastic farewell and go off to find your friend.

Coriolanus is left alone, his cheeks red hot and his breathing becomes laborious. He’s fuming and will not be made a fool of so easily. He hasn’t felt this small and out of place in a long time. Just then, Sejanus walks towards him with a goofy, unknowing smile.

“Chatting it up?” He asks nervously

“Not really…” Coriolanus huffs

“Oh well that’s a relief.” Sejanus smiles letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Why?” Coriolanus inquires

“Well..” Sejanus leans in “I’ve kinda been seeing her…I thought I should tell you” he whispers

“Oh? Is that why you’re Panem’s next president according to her.” Coriolanus scoffs, hoping to sound sarcastic

Sejanus blushes slightly and rolls his eyes.

“I know. I had no idea until this week, but finding out was..ha..k-kinda a funny story actually...” he starts to stutter.

“I met her at one of my Dad’s business partner’s dinners. I hit it off with her, took her home. S-she had uh spent the night with me and was teasing me the all night, and well I thought it was teasing, anyways she was saying that I would make a good president and then I told her I wouldn’t want to take my chances away from you. Then the next morning she calls me…” Sejanus continues to recall, a goofy boyish smile spreading across his face.

“And I thought that, I mean I thought she was just being sweet you know, after staying over. Well she called me to tell me to look at the papers and yeah…”

Coriolanus soaks the new revelation in, inhaling deeply, trying to remain calm at his friend who had just confessed to him that he’s sleeping with the same journalist that writes absolutely lies and malarkey about him.

“Did you know it was her?”

“You know I didn’t pay attention to the news that much. I didn’t even realize she was the same journalist you complain about until that next morning.”

Coriolanus thought for a moment. Senjanus wouldn’t lie about that. After all he really doesn’t pay any attention to the news and politics which could only mean one thing.

“She’s trying to get to me..” Coriolanus declares. “She knew we were friends and is trying to pit us against each other? Why?” he whispers

“Damn. I need to drop her for sure now. That sucks because she was…I mean…” Sejanus sighs, a slight lustful longing in his eyes

The gears turn in Coriolanus head. Yes! This is the exact leverage he needs with you. And he knows exactly how to charm you now.

“Don’t worry about it” Coriolanus smiles deceitfully patting Sejanus on the shoulder.

As the evening goes on, Coriolanus chats up a few old classmates and a few Senators. All the while, he kept his eye on you, waiting for the perfect moment to give you the attention you apparently seek. Then, he catches you departing. You make your away alone out of the venue and Coriolanus pushes through the crowd to get to you. Once he catches up to you, he slides his fingers around your wrist and tugs. He calls you by your last name, slightly out of breath.

“What do you want Snow?” You scoff, trying to tug your hand away, but he pulls you closer. His breath fans your face and you turn away. “Let go…” you grumble. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

“And let you go write another one of your little stories. I don’t think so princess.”

“Are you threatening a member of the press?”

“No. I want to set the record straight though. Why don’t you interview me?” He smirks

“What? Interview you?”

“Yes, don’t act like you don’t want an interview from me. After all, you seem to be a big fan of mine no? Always writing about me aren’t you? Why don’t you get it straight from the source this time?”

“Well…” you start “it would boost the paper’s rating so…fine. Call our secretary and set up a time with me later this-“ you rush then unexpectedly, he pulls against his chest, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Come home with me” he whispers, grazing his forefinger and thumb across your chin. Your heart flutters slightly. You’re beginning to be charmed by him, you want to resist, but deep down this is what you have been after. His attention. You pout your lips and squint at him.

“What is your game Snow?”

“No game.” He smirks

“Well I’m done drinking for the night so…” you breathe

“I have tea” Coriolanus cuts in and before you know it you’re walking up the steps to the building of his lavish penthouse.

꧁❧✽☙꧂

Part 2 coming soon…

#dark!coriolanus snow #toxic!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus smut #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth #tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #fanfic

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kafkasmuses · 4 months

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innocence — modern ! coriolanus snow + reader : your friends ask you to get some drugs from the local dealer, but you never expect he would take a liking to you.

tags : 18+!!! MDNI!!! drug dealing ! coryo, drugs, praise kink, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, porn with feelings, p in v sex, fingering, special treatment

coriolanus snow hated parties, they were loud, and the people were insufferable— but he needed the money from the things he sold. cocaine, weed, even some ecstasy. whatever the people wanted, whatever helped support his grandmother and cousin. they weren’t living in the most luxury like all the other people who held parties in these neighborhoods, so that’s why coriolanus attended them, they always paid the most.

he typically got douchebags or stuck - up pretty girls, they both always paid him in crumpled up ones that he took forever to straighten out and count— what a bunch of assholes.

what he never expected, though, was you, coming up to the man dressed in a korn shirt and baggy jeans with a bow in your hair as well as wearing a pretty dress. your doe eyes peered up at him when you tapped his shoulder, he turned, eyes slotting down to meet yours, “hey.”

“hi,” you hesitate, cute, “i.. do you sell drugs?”

he clears his throat, “sorry?”

“do you—“

“probably shouldn’t repeat yourself, doll,” he tips his head up, “i do, are you buying?“

“just for my friends, yeah,” you smile shyly at him, and he returns it.

you’re so innocent, had you ever done any drugs before? definitely not the ones he sells, maybe the weed, but cocaine or ecstasy? no, no way. if it were for you, he wouldn’t be selling you it anyway. coriolanus had a certain soft spot, if you will, for the innocent girls that wander up to him at parties with their batting eyelashes and naturally pouted lips.

“alright, let’s go upstairs,” he tips his head to the stairs, chuckling when you move to give a thumbs up to your friends before following after him, “why do they make you ask for them?”

he suddenly moves back to grab your wrist when the halls find themselves crowded, not wanting to lose you in the sea of people, nor you lose him. you were a client, a customer, and he always treats his customer this way.

loud incorrect buzzer.

he doesn’t!

coriolanus never dares to allow himself to sweeten up around his customers, or anyone, but something about your shy, deer like attitude— it had a wolf wanting to protect.

“they say they’re too nervous to do it themselves,” you finally answer when he leads you into the nearest empty room, closing the door behind you.

he finally lets go of your wrist, “that so? what are they askin’ for?”

“cocaine,” you swallow.

“then they’re not nervous,” he chuckles, having to deal with his fair share of cocaine users, none of them are nervous to approach him, “why do you let them push you around?”

he moves to sit on the bed, chopping up the cocaine from his pocket on the nightstand next to him. he typically doesn’t like when his customers stand over him, because he never knows what they will do, and he likes to be in control at all times— but you’re harmless, aren’t you? just a little deer.

you exhale a nervous laugh, “they’re not pushing me around, they’re just asking me for favors.”

he hums, eyes peering up at you as his hands absentmindedly work on the pearl powder, it was muscle memory for him at this point. “you promise you’re not doing this shit, too?”

“i promise,” your lips tip up to a curt smile, “it’s really.. scary, honestly.”

he exhales, eyes trailing over the curves of your face before they meet the nightstand again, swiping the powdered sugar like substance into a little baggie. you watch him, almost admiring, “yeah. it is really scary, dangerous, too— don’t want you doin’ this shit too.”

a warm feeling courses through your veins, you hardly realize he’s holding the baggies out for you until he clears his throat, you blink a few times, quickly trying to grasp the money you had— it wasn’t given to you by your friends to spend for them, it was just your own money. how cruel.

“it’s on the house,” he quickly says, almost unaware of what he was saying himself until it finally passes his lips.

you bat your lashes at him, “what—“

“free, doll, just take it,” he allows himself a faint smile.

you hesitantly reach to take the baggies, “are you sure…?”

he nods, “‘m positive.”

“thank you, snow,” his eyebrows furrow at how sweet his name sounds on your tongue, like nectar delivered by the kindest dove from the gods.

you turn to leave, but he quickly stands, “hey—“ he pauses, eyes sweeping over your figure as he tries to figure out what to say, you probably go to millions of parties with your asshole friends, possibly with other dealers.. “some other dealers are gonna try to rip you off, make you pay a lot for a little bit— so just, come to me and i’ll treat you good as long as you’re staying out of trouble, princess.”

“okay, i will,” you nod quickly.

“good girl.”

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

you don’t see coriolanus for a while after that night, it has been no more than a few days, less than a week but the idea of you is rotting in his brain and eating him whole from the inside out. at every party he went to, every girl with a bow in their hair (he despises that it’s the latest trend) or wearing a baby pink dress reminds him of you. with their fluttering lashes and soft smiles, god, he hates that he sees you in every one of them. he hates that you have completely plagued his entire conscience, but yet he never complains about it, not once.

sometimes, sejanus, one of the other known dealers, though he more so considers himself a look - out when coriolanus is selling, or a promoter for coriolanus’ business— he notices how coriolanus’ eyes linger more than usual on the women at parties, it almost makes him laugh, or tease coriolanus.

isn’t he supposed to be intimidating? not a man easily falling for women.

a lover boy, that’s what he seemed like now.

sejanus swishes around his drink in his cup, eyes falling to coriolanus, “what’s up with you?”

coriolanus blinks once, twice, “what are you talking about?”

“you haven’t blinked in like an hour,” sejanus liked to overexaggerate, “are you okay?”

��of course i am,” he scoffs, “‘m gonna find arachne.”

arachne, sejanus’ best friend, albeit she talks so much shit about him behind his back. sejanus is sweet, passive, and arachne is the complete opposite. some would call arachne a maneater, coriolanus thinks of her as a conceited bitch who needs to be put on a leash. she had a tendency to run off whenever she went to parties with coriolanus and sejanus, so coriolanus always had to run after her to try and find her.

sejanus nods, offering a small i’ll look too.

coriolanus allows sejanus to walk the opposite way as he turns the corner, eyes scanning each room for a brunette with a bold red lip. he doesn’t find her anywhere, god, she better not be having sex in one of the rooms upstairs like how she was last time. coriolanus likes to think opening that door to that sight was something out of a horror movie.

he does find a different brunette, though, with more golden tones and curlier hair.

festus creed, of fucking course creed is here. he was another one of the other well known dealers in the area. he wasn’t that well with his sells, mostly because he acts like he’s above everyone else in the worst way possible, and even allows people to pay with sex.

coriolanus heard his sex is never good.

funny, isn’t it? how someone with a small dick and hardly any skills on pleasing women would offer sex as payment.

coriolanus, at least, thinks it’s hilarious.

what he doesn’t think is hilarious, though, is that festus is talking to someone coriolanus is far too familiar with. glittery eye makeup, a lacy bow in their hair, baby pink dress.. it’s you.

coriolanus’ mouth runs dry when you spot him in the corner of your eye, your lips twisting into a sugar - coated grin as soon as your eyes widen, “snow!”

you immediately move to give him a hug, festus’ searing gaze following your every movement in the creepiest way possible— god, coriolanus hates him. his fingers lace around your waist, tugging you close, “hey, princess.”

“princess?” festus snickers.

coriolanus tries to ignore him, but he finds it near impossible with the words that leave your lips next, “this is festus, my friend, do you know him?”

coriolanus scoffs, does he know him, what a joke, “i know of him.”

festus finds himself chuckling bitterly, “is that right, pretty boy?”

coriolanus takes a step, and you feel a certain mold of metal against your waist when he does, a gun, his cold lips part, “sure is.”

your eyes roam over his features, the curves of his skin when his brows collide, the way his eyes darken with malice, the grit of his sharp teeth, the flush of his jaw against his flesh as he moves it. his muscles flex underneath his baggy band t - shirt, veins pulsing. he was angry.

festus’ lips part, but you speak before him, “snow?”

his head nods in your direction, but he doesn’t say anything.

“answer your girl, snow,” festus taunts.

“go upstairs,” he mumbles, it’s to you.

so you do.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

coriolanus sighs when he closes the door behind him, coming in mere minutes later. you had been sitting on the bed in the vacant room, fingers playing together, eyes glossed over in fear and pricking with tears. coriolanus wasn’t the only one who carried, but you didn’t hear any shots, fortunately.

“kid’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbles, cracking his bruising knuckles, “he’s not sellin’ you shit, is he?”

“sometimes—“

“don’t buy from him anymore,” coriolanus pauses, swallowing, “he laces his shit sometimes.”

it was true, festus was messy with his work, he didn’t lace the products himself but the people that distributed them to him would, he was just too lazy to even notice.

“i’m sorry,” it comes out hushed, a mere whisper, but coriolanus’ ears pick up on it easily.

his tone is softer now, “why?”

“i didn’t know—“

“then don’t apologize,” his head tips to the side, sniffling the bubbling blood in his nose, he inhales, pupils wide as they roam your features. a glass tear raced down your pliant cheek, and he immediately moved to carefully wipe it away, “don’t cry, doll.”

you don’t say anything, merely melt into his touch. coriolanus isn’t good with affection, he’s hardly had any girlfriend before and if he has, they don’t last long due to his struggles with showing kindness. so it’s obvious the next word that leaves his mouth isn’t one born from honeysuckle, “cocaine?”

your lips move nervously, bottom lip tugging under your teeth as your mascara covered lashes move to his frost - bitten eyes, “do you have.. ecstasy?”

his lips drop to a frown, “why?”

your lips tremble when they part, cheeks heating under his touch, “my friends want to try it.”

“no,” he swallows, jaw ticking, “i’m not selling you that shit.”

“what? why not?”

“that shit is too dangerous,” he chuckles, albeit it’s bitterness, “i don’t want you around that, it’s trouble.”

“i’ve been good,” you reassure, hips swaying when you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“have you, now?” his thumb is gently rubbing against your skin.

“i have, i promise,” you offer, feeling his fingers move so his thumb is now moving against your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth ever so slightly.

you smile around it and his pupils dilate even more, are his eyes blue anymore or merely just sole pupil? “naughty girl.”

then he stops, as if he had realized something, and pulled away. your lips curve downward to a frown, desperate to have his touch again, “snow?”

“don’t,” his molars collide, “i’ll hurt you.”

“that’s okay—“

“—i’m bad news—“

“—i don’t think that—“

“—i’m dangerous, doll.”

you hesitate, inhaling sharply, “but you won’t hurt me.”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute, “so, you want cocaine?”

you give him a careful nod, and he smiles. again, he’s being sweet.

“you know how to chop up cocaine?”

you allow yourself a giggle, “you know i don’t.”

“i’ll show you.”

and he does, his hand is gentle as it guides yours, fingers curling against the curve of your own as he crushes up the cocaine, guiding you to chop it up with the card he gave you. you’re warm underneath his cold touch, his movements experienced whilst yours are new. “how many times have you done this?”

he shrugs, breath fresh against the shell of your ear, “a couple hundred, for sure.”

“i could help you, you know, with the business,” you offer, despite not even really wanting to.

“no,” his fingers are tighter against your skin, but not enough to hurt, “i don’t want you in this business, you being around me is dangerous enough.”

“you’re not dangerous, snow,” you hush out.

he moves closer, and you feel his gun brush against your ass, lips curving into a smile, “you think so?”

you shiver from the touch, it’s loaded, the safety is probably off, “i know so.”

your thighs push together, he feels it, making him chuckle, “you’re so needy, princess.”

“snow,” you breathe out, “this isn’t fair.”

“how so?” he presses a soft kiss behind your ear, “just because you aren’t getting what you want?”

“do you want it?” you pause your movements.

“of course i do, i want it as much as you,” he moves your fingers so you drop the card, guiding them to his bulge, “‘m just not spoiled.”

you frown at his works, fingers curving around his bulge, god, how big was he? “‘m not spoiled either.”

“whatever you say, princess,” he grits out.

you palm him so well, it nearly has him rutting against your hand, breathing getting heavier against your ear. his fingers move to trail down down your back, dipping underneath the hem of your skirt and tracing along the thin material of your lace panties. his jaw shifts, “such a dirty girl, wearing these panties.”

you whimper when his fingers graze along the soaked part of your panties, thick fingers brushing against your clothed clit, “please— snow.”

“please what, princess?” you mumble something in response, but it’s nearly incoherent, more of a whimper, “use your words.”

he moves to pull your panties to the side, now touching your bare clit, making your thighs tremble, “i need— fuck, i need you— inside.”

he nods, pressing kisses along the side of your neck, finding himself already pussy - drunk. it almost felt sacrificial, a sinful man dipping his fingers inside of a goddess, the way you moaned at the feeling of his finger stretching you out— it was as if he could be confessing of his sins at any minute.

to see your hips bucking against his finger, his name hushed on the tip of your delicate tongue. didn’t you know that many people wanted him dead? how many people hated him? how the police could arrest him at any second? yet you didn’t care, a lamb to the slaughter, a deer in between the jaws of a wolf.

yet you were rutting against his hand, begging for more, desiring him to push another finger in— and he did exactly that, prepping your tight cunt for his cock, “you’re so fuckin’ tight, doll, i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“it will— it will, i know it will—,” you’re just babbling nonsense at this point, and coriolanus wanted to be gentle, he really did, but your sweet moans, your sugary whimpers, the way he so easily pushed his fingers inside of you, the way that when you curl, your moans up a few octaves. you were so sensitive, god, were you a virgin?

the thought had coriolanus pulling his fingers out, twirling you around so he can push his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as his other hand undoes the belt holding his baggy jeans up. his eyes are crystalizing the memory of your tongue swirling against his fingers, sucking up every taste of your own cunt— have you thought of this as many times as he has?

he moves his hand to take his gun before it falls, placing it on the counter behind you, his fingers move from your mouth to help him push his jeans down, your lips part, “why do you have a gun?”

he smiles sweetly at your words, nearly chuckling, “why do you think?”

“‘m not sure, that’s why i asked,” you had a certain tinge in your voice that makes him quirk a brow.

“it’s to protect myself, princess,” he pushes his boxers down, finally freeing his cock, “now be a good girl, turn around, and bend over.”

of course you do exactly what he asks, bending over the counter so he can push your skirt up. the feeling of your innocence being stripped away right in front of you was far too good, like a cross ripped from the chain around your neck, or your holy water being unpurified. you were a cupcake with frosting on top, and coriolanus was sinking his teeth into you, rotting his sweet tooth.

his dick slaps against your heat when your legs part with desire, making you whine against nothing, “snow— please..”

“just say it, princess,” he moves to rub his red tip against your clit, making you shudder, knees buckling already.

“fuck me— f..fuck me,” you repeatedly beg.

he moves closer to press a sweet kiss on the back of your neck, bones colliding when his cock finally pushes into your cunt. you were so tight around him, squeezing him around your velvet walls. your jaw falls slack when you gasp at the feeling of him stretching you out, his lips pull tight together in a grunt, “so tight for me, princess— jesus christ..”

his breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. your fingers graze along the gun placed on the counter, right next to the cocaine. his tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the counter with the sheer snap of his hips. your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

it’s so obscene, all of the things that he finds himself spitting out as he harshly bucks into you. so cute, jus’ wanna ruin you, takin’ my cock so well, that feel good princess? he can’t help the way his hands snake up to your hair, tugging at the pretty bow wrapped around it, earning a frosted moan from your glossed lips.

it’s not long until you’re cuming on his cock, with him pulling out to twirl you around and push you to your knees, allowing you to jerk him off until thick white stripes are decorating your face. the white glitter, the sweet scent of your lip - gloss, now accompanied by his cum.

how cute.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbles as he tucks his dick back in his boxers, pulling his jeans back up when your painted nails move to wipe away the cum on your face, lapping it up with your pretty tongue.

you giggle sweetly, “do you do this with all your customers?”

he shakes his head, “no, doll, you’re special, you know that.”

and it’s true, you really were special.

you were a dangerous man’s doll.

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eloves-writes · 4 months

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careful who you’re talking to

[coriolanus snow x reader]

desc: snow hears a conversation with the academy boys about the girl he is secretly seeing and wants them to know who you belong to warnings: snow being snow like fr (toxic, controlling, insane, blah blah blah), smut, exhibitionism, public sex, unwarranted sexual comments about reader behind her back, she/her pronouns used, reader is wearing a dress, if i need to add any other warnings please lmk a/n: hiiiii! i'm back again. this is slightly unhinged and i didn't mean for it to be this unhinged but anyway hope u enjoy, send any and all coriolanus requests my way! mwah mwah mwah ily this work contains mature themes, minors dni

it was a cold night in the capitol, and you were steadily sipping a glass of posca to keep warm in your blood-red dress. the silky material was slit up your leg and cut down to reveal just the right amount of cleavage; you might feel a chill but you looked damn good and everybody knew it.

especially coriolanus snow. the two of you had been spending a lot of time together recently- behind bookshelves in the library, in dark corners of the academy halls, bend over desks in empty classrooms. it had begun as purely physical. stress relief. but after a month or so, you had each caught feelings for the other and were struggling with whether or not to admit it. and in that moment, he was also struggling tremendously to take his eyes off of you.

you stood talking across the room with arachne and livia, unable to concentrate on whatever meaningless gossip they were discussing with the feeling of coriolanus’ ice blue eyes on you; there was an electric thrill passing between you like you were connected with a live wire. to say your relationship so far had been hot and heavy would be an extremely severe understatement, and you found your mind constantly occupied with the thought of him touching you and the need to have him touch you again.

“i think y/n is checking me out,” festus creed smirked to the group of boys around him.

coriolanus almost snorted in amusement. you were obviously looking at him, and only him.

“something funny, snow?” gaius asked sharply. “jealous, perhaps?”

snow reserved his irritation. “not at all, breen.”

“whoever she is looking at,” felix stated earnestly, “i’m certainly jealous of them. i mean, just look at her. she looks fucking hot.”

festus nodded in agreement. “i’d love to rip that dress off of her. she acts so innocent, but you just know she likes it rough.”

coriolanus felt his blood boil. you were his. how dare they talk about you like you were a common whore? perhaps you did like it rough. he would know, he was the one fucking you. not these basic capitol losers. none of them could make you scream the way he did. none of them had scratches down their backs beneath their shirts from your nails. only he did. only he ever would, and he would make sure it stayed that way.

the other boys laughed, agreeing with festus. adding on their own ideas. detailing the ways they’d make you fuck them. describing the times you had supposedly sent them signals. assuming that you did not already belong to snow, that you would even think about going near them. that you would get on your knees for them like you always did for coriolanus.

he couldn’t listen to them any longer. “she’s seeing somebody,” he jeered, fixing the cuffs of his jacket and making definitive, unquestionable eye contact with you and subtly tilting his head towards the exit.

festus laughed incredulously. “is she now? i think we’d have heard.”

oh you’ll hear it alright.

“yes,” coriolanus replied with a chilling calm, watching you make your way to the door. “if you’ll excuse me.”

on the steps outside the ridiculously grand building, you waited patiently for snow to follow you out. it was only a few minutes before you heard the door open again, turning to face corio and immediately sensing anger. you worried, sometimes, about his anger. you knew he wouldn’t seriously harm you, but the same could most certainly not be said for any others who dared cross his path. the future president of panem could only afford so much blood on his hands.

“what’s wrong, coriolanus?” you asked gently.

he inhaled deeply and stared into your eyes in a way that strongly suggested you would be unable to walk the next morning. you waited for him to answer.

“you shouldn’t have worn that dress," he warned.

“what?”

“you heard me.”

either the cold or a fucked up part of you sent shivers down your spine, hairs standing up on your neck. your underwear dampened at his fury.

“i thought you would like it, corio,” you flirted, stepping closer to him. he placed a large, firm hand on your waist.

“i do like it, y/n,” he said before speaking in a low voice. “i would like it better if you took it off.”

you smiled and leaned up to kiss him, but he turned his head. you pulled a face in protest.

“behave,” he spat. “so desperate. do you not want to know why you shouldn’t have worn this?”

“yes, corio,” you replied, doing your best impression of somebody who wasn’t about to throw yourself on top of him. he liked when you were patient.

“because every man in that room wants to see it on their bedroom floor," he attested lowly.

“and you’re jealous,” you smirked.

coriolanus suddenly grabbed a fistful of your hair and roughly pulled your head backwards so that your face was tilted towards his. “and nobody else should be looking at you like that.”

a jolt of excitement ran through you. “corio-”

he gave your hair another tug. “say you’re mine.”

“am i yours?”

he realised instantly the meaning of your question. he didn’t have to think about his reply; he had thought about it every waking moment since the day you met. “you’re mine. say it.”

“i’m yours.”

“good girl,” snow spoke deeply before kissing you like he’d never kissed you before. without breaking apart from your lips, coriolanus guided you around to the side of the building. he counted the windows you passed until finally stopping by one that was cracked open and pushing you against the cold wall. as he removed his jacket and unfastened his belt, he looked inside the hall and you assumed he was checking no one was looking. he wasn’t. he was making sure that festus creed and the other boys were still stood in the same spot; directly in front of this particular window, and far enough from the rest of the partygoers that only the boys would hear you.

you gathered the skirt of your dress at your waist and wrapped your legs around corio’s sturdy form as he reached to move your underwear to the side. he circled your clit until you were practically whimpering, then slid two fingers inside of you.

“corio, feels so good,” you moaned softly.

he kept his same pace with his fingers, fucking you into a state of bliss where he knew you would be uninhibited and so drunk with his stimulation that people would think you’d finished every glass of posca in this stupid party. coriolanus was too good at what he was doing, you were on the edge of release within minutes and still desperately trying to quiet yourself in the name of dignity.

“corio, please, corio, i’m so close,” you whimpered into his neck.

he pulled away his hand, making you whine in displeasure. he liked to do that. liked to know he was in complete control of you, you would only cum when he willed it.

corio looked through the window again, but the boys had yet to hear anything out of the ordinary. they were still laughing amongst themselves. he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, using the slick on from your pussy to stroke himself before he pushed inside of you.

you tried again to stay quiet, but coriolanus began to coax you. “look at you, taking me so well. you wouldn’t let anybody else fuck you like this, would you? who makes you feel this good, huh?”

you couldn’t hold back anymore, his beautiful face spewing such foul things whilst fucking you raw and digging his fingertips into your flushed skin. “you do, corio. fuck,” you moaned, loudly enough that festus turned to look outside.

coriolanus smirked as they made eye contact. the initial confusion about the sounds coming from outside, the look of shock as he realised his classmate was balls deep in a girl he had pushed against the exterior of a building in the damn capitol, his face finally dropping as he realised who corio was fucking by the colour of your messed up hair and the visible strap of your dress, his eyes widening as he heard the things snow was saying to you.

your moans were getting louder too as you got even closer to your orgasm, whimpering corio’s name and repeating “i’m yours,” like a mantra.

snow took his gaze from the boys to you, feeling satisfied that he’d proved his point and starting to performatively enjoy himself, knowing yours weren't the only eyes on him. his pace quickened, driving you over the edge and making you clench around him as you came. he moaned aloud himself as continued to fuck you through your high and the overstimulation that came after until he finished inside of you.

you were completely fucked out, relishing the feeling of snow’s cum beginning to drip down your thighs after he swiftly removed your underwear to fold into his back pocket. he picked his discarded jacket up from the floor and placed it over your shoulders, kissing your head and leading you to the front of the building and helping you into a car which would take you both home. before you walked away from the window though, coriolanus smoothly pulled your lace panties from his pocket and waved them nonchalantly in the night air, catching the attention of the rest of the group. you would never have to know why he fucked you, only that the boys would stop bothering you now they knew who you belonged to.

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yzzart · 5 months

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Love your Tom blyth fics an unhealthy amount!!! I’m picturing reader and Tom being all lovey dovey at the premiers but playing it off as really good bestfriends UNTIL she goes to kiss him on the cheek and in instinct he turns his head to kiss her on the lips so they just say fuck it and hard launch there and then x

"An unplanned situation."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: a small gesture, with a sweet intention, revealed a promising secret.

word count: 1.359!

notes: i started this request in the morning and only had the opportunity to finish it a few minutes ago, forgive me for that, anon! — i hope you like it and of course, feel free to share ideas with me!

"Y/N, look here!"

Another request, among others, screams and countless flashes, was directed to you; being, theoretically, almost impossible to identify who had demanded your image. — There were so many voices mixing, not to mention the music in the background, but, you tried your best to pay attention to most of the cameras.

However, it wasn't anything you weren't used to; something that has already been normalized in your life.— And during the premiere of The ballad of songbirds and snake it was no different, and it was splendid; simply perfect. — Not to mention, the feeling of gratitude that grew in your chest.

Cameras and cell phones captured your every movement, your poses and the way your perfectly chosen dress was valued and highlighted on your body. — And how it matched the color palette of the film. — Everything was being recorded, at the exact moment, posted and commented on all social networks.

You had the opportunity to meet, talk and take photos with some of the cast. — It was so pleasant, the company and unity that everyone developed during the filming of the film was inexplicable and so adorable; you were grateful to have worked with so many talented people. — There were some people who were absent, until now, in your eyes, but you would definitely meet them again on the carpet.

And, of course, your eyes roamed the decorated room, matching the elements of the film, and crowded in search of a specific person. — It wasn't exaggerated words to say that you were starting to feel uncomfortable because he was missed; and the cameras recorded it. — Silent questions, which would be written, formed in the minds of the presenters and photographers.

Your boyfriend had yet to appear on the red carpet; perhaps he is giving a quick and curious interview or greeting someone. — That's what was going on in your head.

You and Tom had a secret relationship, ever since you met behind the scenes, in front of the world and all the cameras that may exist in it; something that was so risky and at the same time adventurous. — And that, as incredible as it might seem, you knew how to disguise it in front of your fans; even though they gradually became suspicious with comments, interactions and behind-the-scenes photos.

They were either smart or you and Tom were too far over the line. — This question was not important or essential for the moment. — And you considered each other best friends for interviews or responses to comments; you tried your best.

And so, Rachel sent countless screenshots of tweets, which talked about or mentioned the relationship between you and Tom, to you. — It's impossible to deny how funny it was.

Persisting in continuing to look for him and for a few seconds, your eyes meet his blue and so charming irises. — Its shade of blue was a magnificent and beautiful combination; something you would never get tired of admiring. —And there was no other thing, or anyone, that could take his eyes off you.

As if the only thing that mattered at that moment was you. — And everything around him simply disappeared.

"There you are!" — Tom walked towards you, easily as there weren't so many people on the carpet, and an enthusiastic smile forming on his lips; also accompanied by cameras and intense flashes. — "And so beautiful!"

Holding a part of your long and dazzling dress so as not to hinder your steps, you met him, and without wasting any time, hugged him. — A common gesture, and not so different or strange, for the spectators; so, you thought. — Tom's arms went around your waist, holding your protectively for a little while, while your arms positioned themselves around his neck.

Tom's fragrance, which you liked so much, filled your nose; it felt so good, and you felt your eyes weaken, contaminated by it. — And the british man was aware of that.

"You look perfect, always." — The older man distanced himself, just a little, and brought his face closer to your ear, wanting only you to hear. — "The most beautiful woman that has ever crossed my eyes." — The lenses probably captured a reddish pigmentation on your cheeks and it was not part of your makeup.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, and looking directly into his eyes; that shone at you, and it wasn't just because of the influence of the lights in your direction. — Tom's gaze was sincere, and passionate, intensely fascinating you. — He conveyed what he felt most with just his eyes.

And that was one of the facts about him that you were passionate about and recognized very well.

"Oh, shut up!" — Raising your hand and resting it a little away from your mouth, you laughed a little embarrassed and looked back at the cameras; remembering that they remained there and you knew that later you would see your interaction with Tom on some social media.

Again, a thing and situation you were used to.

"Look at that camera!" — A voice mingled among others, which requested the same request, asking you to take some photos together; something that would feed news, fans and press.

At no point, minute or second, did you and Tom remain distant or apart from each other; always a few steps close, hugging each other for photos and certain looks, completely indiscreet. — Even during brief interviews, as Blyth mentioned you or your character's work, you were silently watching. — One of the interviewers even commented on how cute she thought it was.

Tom's hand was on your waist, holding and almost covering you, making a quick caress in a few seconds and one of your hands was still resting on his chest; and you continued, of course, to be the focus of the cameras.

Quickly, with the intention of changing your pose and trying something new and also to take advantage of the fact that Blyth's face was almost close to yours, you decide to place your pigmented lips on his cheeks. — Such a cute and friendly gesture, and so common. —But, automatically and hastily, Tom turned his face away at the same time, without having in mind what you were, in fact, planning. — God, it was a shock; an absurd and completely intense shock.

For the first time that night, in that place and on those cameras, your lips touched Tom's lips. — It was very quick, good and surprising; and that definitely left a cold, freezing air in your belly accompanied by a desperate feeling in your mind. — Rumor has it that smoke was coming out of his head. — It was a peck, a quick and simple kiss.

When you separated, hurriedly, your eyes met Tom's once again; who were a little wide-eyed, expressing surprise. — Looking for something to say or do, just like you. — And you watched his lips curve into an almost smile, as if he was trapping him.

Shouts of enthusiasm and some possible whistles echoed throughout the immense place, along with some looks and expressions of surprise at what had happened. — And some people were worried if they had recorded the exact moment, of course. — Your fans were probably commenting frantically about what happened.

You really didn't know what to do but at no point did you move away from your boyfriend — now, official to the public — and keep your hand on his chest; as if it were, in fact, planned.

"A nice way to reveal it, huh?" — Tom laughed, relaxed and without a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness, he still had his hand on your waist; and he still squeezed you, then leaving you with another caress. — "I think." — He didn't look at the cameras, his orbits focused only on you.

They have always focused on you, regardless of what is actually happening; and that will never change.

"A nice way to reveal." — You repeated your words, but, as an affirmation and certainty; maybe, seeing how relieved Tom was, and not showing some kind of distress, your chest calmed down and you felt safe.

And soon, you and Tom became one of the most talked about topics on social media.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus #snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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spideyhexx · 2 days

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Taking a nice bubble bath with Coryo, washing his pretty curls as he lays back in your arms and legs

yeah :(

thinking about being in academy and you live in a nice penthouse with a big tub and Coriolanus is always so silently envious of it but he’s never directly angry with you over it, but he will tease you about how nice, how fancy everything is. How excessive it is.

But when you’re naked in the tub with him, massaging his head with your fancy soaps, lathering it in his curls, he’s so truly at peace, he never wants to leave your home.

His back to your chest and he rests his hands on your legs the entire time. Usually he’d be a little more subtle with his touches to you, especially when they start getting more suggestive but he can’t help himself. He has to have a hand on you, even if his grip is tight or it’s very blatant.

#coryoasks #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

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can you do a Tom Blyth x reader fic wherein they're doing a wired autocomplete interview?

Answering the Web’s Most Searched Questions || Tom Blyth x Actress!Reader

A/n: this was so much fun to make! I apologies for this taking a bit to make hahahaha. Keep the Tom Blyth x reader requests coming 🙏

Warnings: nothing but reader n tom being such a wholesome couple

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

“Hi I’m Tom Blyth!” You smile at the camera. “And I’m Y/n Y/l/n” Tom waves to the camera as you both hold in your laughter but fail miserably. “And this is the wired autocomplete interview,” Tom clicks his tongue pointing to the camera.

“Who should go first?” You look to Tom as you see a glint of mischief in his eyes, “let’s paper scissor rock it?” He asks as you turn your body slightly to him. The next sped up montage was of the two of you playing paper scissors rock and not surprise that you won earning a groan from Tom as you are passed your board.

“Okay first one, who is y/n y/l/n……. dating?” You read it as you and Tom chuckle. “Who are you dating, Y/n?” Tom jokes as he looks at you quizzically. “It’s actually a secret,” You shrug, “Do I know this person?” Tom continues, “Yes actually, you are very familiar with this person,”

“Hmm, interesting,” Your boyfriend pretended to think about it as you wink to the camera, discreetly pointing to Tom beside you. “Moving on, Does Y/n Y/l/n have…… a pet?” “Yes I do actually, his name is tchai and he’s a spoodle. I bring him to set all the time and he just comes along and chills with us.” You say as an instagram post of yours pops up on the screen.

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by tomblyth, hunterschaffer, rachelzegler, and 3,837,202 others

My boys 💗

tagged: @tomblyth

“Next one, can y/n y/l/n….. sing and act?” You laugh at this one as Tom does the same, leaning his head against yours. “Unfortunately I cannot sing and act. That’s not me in the tbosas film, that’s actually my stunt double that looks identical to me and it’s actually Tom that sings all of the songs” You give a thumbs up as Tom and the crew start laughing.

“Does y/n y/l/n have any tattoos? Yes! I actually have a matching tattoo with my boyfriend, it’s on my pinky and it’s half of a heart and he has the other half.” You put your hand up and point to it as Tom quickly puts his beside your pinky, his other half connecting with yours.

“Oh my god, Tom has the exact same one. What a coincidence!” You giggle, “Such a coincidence right?” He shakes his head. “What does….. y/n y/l/n look like? Well if you guys didn’t know, I look like this” You point to yourself as Tom places his palm under your chin with a grin.

“What was y/n y/l/n’s…… first acting role? My first acting role was in Billy the Kid that came out in 2022 and Tom here is actually plays the main character Billy.” You nudge his arm as he gives a thumbs up, “And I play Dulcinea which is Billy’s lover at one point.“ You answer before you start to peel off the last one.

“Does y/n y/l/n have… a child?!” Your jaw drops open as Tom laughs out loud. “Do I have a child? No! I’m still very young but I do plan on having children in the future. I do have a younger sister who is 4 so I think people mistake her for my daughter,” You let out a chuckle.

“Grace does very much look like you I do have to say,” Tom points out as you nod in agreement. “Yeah I have to agree with that aswell, probably why people think she is my daughter. Especially when Tom and I are taking care of her for a day, people always say what a lovely family we look,” You giggle.

“Finally my turn,” Tom says in excitement as he’s handed his board. “First one, How….. tall is Tom Blyth? That’s actually a good question uh-“ “For reference, I’m 5’3,” You say as Tom stands up pulling you with him. “There’s quite a height difference,” You laugh as you look up at him.

“I think I’d say around 6ft? Yeah, I’m pretty sure because Hunter is 5’10 and I’m abit taller than her. So yeah, 6ft.” “Next one, What is Tom Blyth’s…. Hidden talent?” Your eyes lock with Tom’s, “It’s not a hidden talent, but I am quite a good whistler.” “Yes! Tom is so good at it,” You nudge him, “Don’t make me do it,” He smiles, biting his lip as you give him a look.

“Do it!” “Okay, fine,” Tom then does the hunger games whistle, three fingers in the air as you watch in amazement. “I was really nervous then,” He chuckles as you laugh to yourself, agreeing.

“Does Tom Blyth…. Have a girlfriend? He says slyly as you look at the camera, “No. I do not have a girlfriend,” Hearing his words, you look at him and find him nodding his head as he says it which makes you smile at his silliness. “What a shame,” You pat his shoulder jokingly as he shakes his head, laughing.

“Lucky last, Is Tom Bltyh… a father? seriously, what is up with these questions?” He says in slight disbelief. “Are you?” You tease him, “Like Y/n, I get mistaken as her little sister’s father but no. I have no children,” “Your children would be so good looking,” You point out before you could really process it in your head.

Tom looks at you in surprise but laughs, “You think?” He maintains eye contact with you as you nod, almost in a trance as you stare into his piercing blue eyes that you could stare in all day. “Hmm, that’s good to know you think that, babe” His pet name for you slips out as your eyes slightly widen.

Tom quickly changes the topic when he realises. “Well that’s it from us today,” He says in a happy tone, “Thank you for watching this video!” “bye!” You both say in sync as you both throw the boards at the camera before it cuts off.

#tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you

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lqveharrington · 4 months

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Winter Gala | C.S.

summary: Coriolanus’ first winter gala as Panem’s President and your first winter gala as First Lady.

pairing: young, president!coriolanus snow x fem, first lady!reader

includes: literally just fluff and kissing. (and some hints to reader being pregnant.)

a/n: some winter love for my favorite (aka coryo bb)

“Don’t you look gorgeous, my First Lady.” Coriolanus wraps his arms around your waist as you clip your earrings on, smiling at him through the mirror.

“You look pretty handsome yourself, Mr. President.” You turn in his arms and lace your own behind his neck, eyes flickering around his face. “First winter gala as the President, Coryo. That’s exciting.”

He lowers his arms down to your hips, placing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Let’s give them a night to remember.”

You let one hand drift to his lips, wiping some of the lipstick off. “Perfect.”

Truly, everything in the Snow Manor was perfect. The help decorated the walls and halls with the lights you deemed the best, and the cooks made the most delicious foods for those to come eat. There were christmas trees present in almost every room, with waiters holding champagne glasses on silver platers. Coriolanus and yourself made sure everything was perfect for the first winter gala as President of Panem.

All of those who held status in the Capitol were invited, along with the past district mentors whom you both attended classes with. There was press inside and unwanted paparazzi outside, immediately becoming the talk of those who arrived to the manor.

As the Snow manor filled with distinguished guests, you were hooked around Coriolanus’ arm like a beautiful trophy, conversing with only those you wanted to.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Livia.” You give her your best smile, removing yourself from your husband to give her a brief hug. “I’m sure Festus has been a pain, as usual.”

“Don’t say that.” She quietly laughed, giving her own husband a glance before looking at the manor in awe and grabbing two champagne glasses of a server’s plate. “Here.”

“Oh no, thank you.” You decline politely, folding your hands together.

“Suit yourself.” She placed one back onto another plater. “The place looks wonderful. The lighting is everything.”

“Thank you. I do love a—“

“Excuse me, ladies, but could I borrow my wife for a bit? It’s time for my speech.” Coriolanus cut in, sneaking an arm around your waist.

Livia nodded, gesturing toward you. “Of course.”

You give her one last smile before following Coriolanus. Sure, you wanted to converse with old classmates, but as the most popular couple in Panem, you had other duties to tend to.

“See Tigris yet?” You murmur in his direction as you ascend the stairs, Coriolanus’ hand placed on the small of your back.

He shook his head, “She didn’t show. She called and said she was busy with work.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to speak to her about an important matter.” You frown and mumble the last bit, your ringed hand lightly moving to your stomach. “Anyway, you must mention how you were delighted to see everyone come here today.”

“Of course, I will. You think I don’t remember that, beautiful?” He kissed your cheek as you reached the balcony looking over the foyer. “Ready?”

“Always.” You lace hands with him.

Coriolanus instructed someone to shut the main lights off and flash the spot light on you both, earning awed noises from the crowd below.

“Thank you all for coming to our first winter gala!” Coriolanus started and got applause from those in the audience.

He went on to thanking everyone who came and spoke about his time as President, calling out those who helped him win the election.

“And of course, I would not have done this all with my lovely wife. Give it up for her, yeah?” He spoke, your name flawlessly living his lips. You flush from the praise but wave to the people below, squeezing Coriolanus’ hand.

“Want to say anything?” He murmured as the applause quieted. You shook your head, resting your hand on your stomach again.

Coriolanus kissed your cheek once more before wrapping up his speech, raising his glass as a final gesture. Everyone else followed suit, your own glass of water being lifted.

“Wonderful speech, my love.” You show your pearly whites as he whisked you away to a hallway.

“That’s because you wrote it, darling.” He met your lips, feeling your grin widen in the kiss.

You let one hand rest on his chest while the other comes around to his neck, Coriolanus’ hands firm on your waist.

“I love you.” You mumble in between kisses, holding your urge to not slide your fingers through his slicked back hair.

He squeezes your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “I love you more.”

read more about coriolanus here !!

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slaymitchabernathy · 2 days

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Coming Home

| a companion to 'His & Hers.' |

Coriolanus anxiously taps his foot on the pavement. Around him is the sound of trains pulling in and out of the station along with the shouts of family and friends reuniting with one another after a trip. Loved ones throw their arms around each other, pressing kisses to cheeks and murmuring words of relief for their safe travels.

His loved one isn’t here yet.

She’ll be here any minute now. Unless the train has gone off the tracks and she’s died a sudden and gruesome death. But that hasn’t happened, he tells himself. Besides, he would have been alerted if such a thing was to happen.

Soarynn and several other Capitol ladies took a luxurious trip to District Four to visit one of the many resorts that the Capitol has. Soarynn had been so excited to see the ocean for the first time. She talked about it for weeks on end once he finally agreed to let her go. And Soarynn didn’t need his permission. Not when the trip was already paid for and she was simply to be an invited guest.

But she cared about his approval. His trust. Coriolanus knew that she wouldn’t go if he hadn’t been okay with it. And he wasn’t okay with it. A million horrible things could happen on this trip. The worst part was that he couldn’t protect her from any of them, not when she was outside the safety of the Capitol, out of his reach.

But all had been well according to Soarynn’s very detailed phone calls he got every night when she called him before going to bed. Soarynn had been nervous in her own way. Mostly because going on this trip meant leaving the most important thing in her entire life behind.

Petunia.

Coriolanus had rolled his eyes at the detailed checklist his girlfriend had written for him. Petunia was a cat, not a human. The list was ridiculous but Coriolanus made sure to follow each thorough instruction. Even if it meant brushing the feline three times a day. He didn’t even brush his own hair three times a day.

Soarynn had also been nervous to her lack of travel experience. She’d never left the Capitol before, not even before the war. Coriolanus hadn’t traveled as extensively as some of their other friends but he knew what lay out there in the Districts. Danger, hunger, desperation. And Soarynn was in the thick of it for the past five days.

A small part of him hoped she’d call him crying, asking for him to get her home immediately because she was scared but it felt as if he was given the opposite reaction from her new experiences.

“Oh, Coryo it’s beautiful! We went swimming today! We’re going to the spa tomorrow! I caught a fish today!” Soarynn had the time of her life.

Coriolanus was happy that she had a good time, that she hadn’t fallen ill or gotten attacked by a psychotic District citizen. He checks his watch again and frowns when he sees that her train is now two minutes late. The Capitol’s train schedule is known for its promptness. Not today it seems.

Coriolanus glances around the platform and pins down a Peacekeeper who looks like he’s doing a whole lot of nothing. He strides over to him, chest puffed out, head held high. “Excuse me, I came to inquire about the train schedules,” he says. The man turns around and grunts, “Of course sir. What train were you inquiring about?” Coriolanus pulls the neatly folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket which has all of the details about Soarynn’s trip written in her neat handwriting.

“It’s the three o’clock train,” he reads, “coming from the District Four Costal Resort.” The Peacekeeper nods and looks down at his own watch, “Hmm. Running late I see. A bit unusual.” Coriolanus nods but the man’s words do nothing to calm his nerves. “Let me go ask,” the Peacekeeper says before walking off to what must be the train control center. Coriolanus leans towards the white line that’s clearly painted along the edge of the platform. There are several large signs around the entire station that read: “Please do not cross the white line for the safety of all passengers.”

He hasn’t really paid it much mind in the past but now it seems to be quite the bother. How can he not cross it once he sees the love of his life? And as much as he loves her, Soarynn can be quite slow when she wants to be and he knows that she’ll take her sweet time getting off that train rather than leaping off and running into his arms.

He’ll just have to be patient.

The past five days have been short of torture. Waking up to an empty bed, to an empty apartment has been the worst. To know that she won’t be there when he gets home, won’t be smiling up at him and giggling. He found himself looking into their closet, expecting her to be getting dressed for the day only to find it dark and empty. Soarynn was his other half, the missing piece.

“It appears there was a weather delay.” The voice pulls Coriolanus from his nagging thoughts and he looks back at the Peacekeeper, “Weather delay?” He repeats, knowing that he’s never heard of such a thing. “Yes, there was some severe weather in Four. The train should be arriving shortly.” The man gives him a curt nod before walking away again and leaves Coriolanus with even more troubling thoughts. He’s definitely going to have a word with Festus Creed who organized and paid for this trip. Festus is dating Aurora Windsnap who’s a good friend of Soarynn’s and Coriolanus highly doubts that Festus has been as concerned as he’s been about his girlfriend’s wellbeing.

Clearly not considering the train station is lacking a certain Festus Creed or any of the other boyfriends for that matter. Once again, Snow lands on top.

He reaches into his pocket once again and feels the stem of the single rose he’s brought for Soarynn, and it gives him some comfort to know that it’ll soon be in her possession.

Then he hears it. The whistle of a train. He looks down the tunnel of the station and watches as the front light of the train gets closer and closer until it’s slowly pulling into the station. He tries to catch a glimpse of Soarynn through the train windows but he can’t see her. He tries to step closer but a sharp whistle prevents him from doing so. He looks in the direction of the whistle to see a train attendant pointing at the white line he just so recklessly crossed.

Coriolanus resists rolling his eyes and takes an exaggerated step back for good measure. Clearly, this train attendant doesn’t understand the severity of the situation. He watches people slowly descend from the train, luggage in hand. People are wrapped in their winter coats and scarves, and women hold onto their hats and gloves.

He holds the rose behind his back.

He can hear the girls before he sees them, shrieking about something that probably isn’t that funny. They’re also bundled up in their winter coats and they oh-so-slowly descend the train steps. Coriolanus is both impressed and somewhat concerned at the amount of luggage they’ve managed to bring for a five day trip. Soarynn is no better though, in fact, he had to put his foot down when she tried to take a sixth trunk of belongings.

“You’re going for five days, not five years darling,” he’d said to her as he took the trunk from her hands.

The girls notice him immediately although he’s hard to miss considering he’s the tallest person at the station. They all whisper and giggle as they point at him, the wonderful, devoted, and doting boyfriend who’s come to collect his girlfriend from the train station. He doesn’t doubt that their boyfriends have sent for cars to take them home but he didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to.

He cranes his neck and tries to see Soarynn but she has yet to make an appearance. Has something happened? Is she not on the train? Did they confiscate her Capitol documents?

Coriolanus had been very adamant about making sure that all of Soarynn’s Capitol documentation was in order before she left for this trip. The documentation included her Capitol citizenship papers, her birth certificate, her proof of residency and her citizens license. Soarynn has teased him about how thoroughly he’d gone about it but he would never forgive himself if for some reason she was detained for not having enough documentation. Better safe than sorry.

Finally, he sees her blonde head of hair. She’s wearing a light pink coat with a matching scarf and cream colors heels. She looks beautiful. She says something to her friends as she gracefully descends from the train, unaware of his presence. Her luggage follows behind her in the arms of a struggling attendant who clearly underestimated the weight of his girlfriend’s belongings. Soarynn is only carrying a small handbag, one he bought her specifically for this trip. Clemensia points in his direction and Soarynn finally sees him.

Her face immediately brightens up and she breaks into a big smile before she begins running towards him. Normally, Coriolanus Snow would behave with decorum and not run across the train platform. But he doesn’t quite give a fuck about manners right now. He takes long strides towards her, and his own smile grows bigger and bigger until she’s flying into his arms. Soarynn’s giggles fill his ears and they’re the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. Her arms are thrown around his neck and he wraps both arms around her waist, slightly lifting her off the ground and spinning them around.

He heard a few whistles and clap but all of their surroundings fade away the second Soarynn pulls away from the embrace and he lays eyes on her beautiful face. She looks even more tan which makes her eyes pop. The weather was clearly warmer than it is now in the Capitol. “Hi,” she says, unable to contain her excitement. Coriolanus chuckles and gently sets her down, “Hello my darling.”

He wastes no time in cupping her face with his hand and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It feels like it’s been an eternity since he’s felt her lips against his. Soarynn sighs into the kiss, her fingers carding into his hair. They stay like that for a moment, re-familiarizing each other before they pull away. “I missed you,” is the first thing that leaves his mouth. He did. He really, really did. Soarynn being gone reminded him of a life before he knew her. When even though he had a place to live, he didn’t have a place to come home to, someone to come home to.

Soarynn was his home.

Soarynn smiles sweetly and nods, “I missed you terribly as well. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire trip.” Her words make his heart swell. To know that he was constantly on her mind is all her needs to know that this is the girl he’s going to marry. He pulls her closer against him, “Then we should never leave one another again,” he decides before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. Soarynn giggles and gives his cheek a playful pinch, “You mean to tell me that you were without anything to do while I was gone?”

Coriolanus thinks back to how he’s spent the last five miserable days without her. Most of his time was spent at work. It had gotten to the point where his boss had to tell him to leave and get some fresh air. Coriolanus felt that work would serve as a good distraction from thinking about Soarynn every minute of every hour until she came back home.

He had dinner with some friends, all of whom were also missing their girlfriends since they were also on the trip. He also spent some time with Petunia which was awkward for the both of them. Soarynn was their common ground and Petunia was constantly pacing the apartment, meowing for Soarynn. She’d be happy to have her home.

He shakes his head, “Absolutely nothing.” They both grin and Soarynn gives his cheek a peck, “Well I’m home my handsome boy. You’ll never be without me again.” If only she knew how much those words meant to him. Coriolanus is quick to present the rose to her and Soarynn softly gasps, “It’s beautiful Coryo. Thank you, it’s the perfect welcome gift.”

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus feels himself teeming with pride for a job well done as they leave the train station. All of Soarynn’s belongings follow behind them on a large cart. Soarynn herself has been collected and is safely pressed to his side as they walk out onto the cold Capitol street. “Are you hungry?” He asks, looking down at his girlfriend who’s looking up at the gray sky. It’ll probably snow tonight. “Hmm? Oh no. We ate on the train,” she says, shaking her head. Coriolanus figures they should just head home then, let Soarynn get settled back in before it gets too dark. Maybe he’ll take her out to a nice dinner tonight to celebrate her homecoming.

He makes sure Soarynn is tucked away in the car before watching two attendants attempt to fit all his girlfriend’s luggage into the trunk. They manage it eventually and Coriolanus rewards their work with a generous tip before getting into the car himself. He nods at their driver, “We’ll be going home.”

Soarynn rests her head on his shoulder as the car pulls away from the curb. “It’s so strange being back home. I feel as though I’m a completely different person than I was when I left.” Coriolanus can’t stop from smiling at her innocent claims of being a completely new person after five days at a Capitol resort. He knows for a fact that she never left the property or interacted with any District citizens for that matter. Still, it was a big journey for her and he listened to her talk about all the things they did on the drive home.

Soarynn is still rambling when the elevator doors open up to the familiar sight of their front doors. “I can’t wait to see Petunia!” She says, bouncing on her toes. Coriolanus hums as he digs through his pockets to locate the keys. “She’s certainly missed you.” Soarynn being gone has to be the closest thing Petunia will ever come to as neglect. Five head scratches instead of ten, heaven forbid!

The moment he unlocks the doors Soarynn darts in, calling out Petunia’s name. Coriolanus brings in all her luggage, setting it down in the foyer before he ventures further into the penthouse to find Soarynn.

He finds her in their bedroom, lying on the bed with a white ball of fluff lying on top of her. “You two are the most dramatic women I have ever met,” he tells them, ignoring the hiss he gets from Petunia.

Soarynn is quick to soothe over any wounds, “Shhh. Don’t pay attention to him my darling. He doesn’t know how hard it’s been for the both of us,” she tells the cat. Coriolanus scoffs and walks into the closet, his coat is beginning to feel too heavy and he doesn’t want to sweat through a good dress shirt.

When he comes out he finds them in the exact same position he left them in. Petunia looks like she’s gloating from his point of view. She looks all too smug as Soarynn showers her with pets and kisses. “You remembered to feed her right?” Soarynn asks, looking up at him, “And to brush her?” Coriolanus hums, “It was quite hard to forget to do anything with that wonderful list you left for me.” He eyes the detailed list that sits on his nightstand. He'd followed the instructions religiously because he just knew that Soarynn would find out if he skipped a step.

Soarynn blushes but nods, "Well there's no harm in being overly prepared. Isn't that right Petunia?"

Coriolanus decides to leave the bedroom since they clearly aren't done with their reunion. Besides, he has a few things to go over in his study that relate to work.

꧁ ꧂

His study is as impressive as his office at work, filled with mahogany furniture, books lining the shelves, and comfortable armchairs. There's a small loveseat pressed against the wall across from his desk, right under the window. Soarynn and Petunia will often curl up on the loveseat, resting their heads on the window seal to watch the people below them. It's moments like that where Coriolanus feels that Soarynn most definitely could be a cat in the way she perches herself on the furniture.

He pulls out the files he's brought home from work and begins to go over them, making notes when needed. He glances at the clock that sits on his desk but his eyes travel to the framed photograph of him and Soarynn from a year ago. He loves the photo, loves how big Soarynn's smile is while he presses a kiss to her neck while she tries to pull away even though she loves neck kisses. He loves the way his large hands wrap around her small waist perfectly. They're perfect together.

A soft knock at the door reminds him of where he is and what he's supposed to be doing and he looks up at the door to find Soarynn peeking her head in, "Come in darling," he says, beckoning her to enter. Another thing he loves about Soarynn, she never enters his space without permission. The last thing he needs is a girlfriend who snoops.

Soarynn changed into some more comfortable clothes, pajamas to put it plainly which lets him know that they won't be going out to dinner tonight. Fine by him, that just means he gets her all to himself. "Are you busy?" She asks, stopping at the side of his desk, her blue-gray eyes scanning the documents that lay before him. He shakes his head, "Not at all. Is there something you need?" Soarynn bites her lip and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment which is a tell that she's going to ask for something she probably shouldn't ask for.

"Well...Clemmie just called and I thought maybe she might have left something behind but it turns out that the girls are already planning another trip, and this time our boyfriends are allowed to join us!"

Coriolanus blinks once, twice. A trip with several Capitol couples sounds like somewhat of a nightmare to him. But he can see how excited Soarynn already is at the prospect of traveling together. "And this time you'd be with me," she quickly adds, "to protect me and keep me out of harm's way." Coriolanus chuckles at her convincing words, she's clearly put some thought into this proposition.

He rubs his temples, "Well I'd have to think about it Soarynn. It might interfere with my work schedule. And you know how I feel about the Districts."

Soarynn slightly slouches but she doesn't lose the smile on her face, "Alright. I just thought I'd bring it up." Coriolanus nods, "Thank you for letting me know." He turns back to his work but Soarynn doesn't make any moves to leave his study.

"Can I sit with you?"

Her question brings a grin to his lips and he pushes back from the desk, baring his lap to her, "Can't get enough hmm?" He teases as Soarynn carefully straddles him, her legs slightly dangling on either side of the chair.

Soarynn scoffs and gives him a knowing look, "I'm not the one who constantly demands physical affection." She's got him there. Coriolanus has always been the more physical one in the relationship. He craves it really, absolutely needs it from her and Soarynn has always given it to him without complaint. He knows she enjoys it too but she's not as forward as he is about it which is why occasions like this can be often rare. He gives her waist a gentle squeeze and presses a soft kiss to her lips, "Well after five days of being apart I wouldn't expect any less from you."

They both settle back down and Soarynn rests her chin on his shoulder while he continues to work. He keeps one hand wrapped around her at all times, even if it makes working a little more difficult. He doesn't mind. The smell of vanilla overwhelms his senses with Soarynn right on top of him. She feels so soft and warm. He really does have the perfect girl. He knows she'll fall asleep soon as she always does when they're in this position.

To have her back in his arms is the greatest gift he can be given, to know that she's safe and loved, all under his watch. Even though he wasn't the one who left, it still feels like coming home.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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keeplcving · 3 months

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art deco.

(young president!coriolanus x young!f!plinth!reader)

summary: the president takes notice of Sejanus’ much younger sister, at one of his galas, and cannot let her go.

cw: plinth!reader, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, sejanus lives (and is still friends with coryo), age-gap (coryo is 28, reader is are 18), strabo is a shitty father, sweet!coryo (but only to you), heavy smut, creampie, soft sex, pet names (little one, little dove, darling, etc), cuddling, lmk if i missed anything!

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the Presidential Mansion, a stark contrast to the still-setting sun outside. Your arm is tightly linked with your brother, Sejanus’ arm, as you make your way to the table. You don’t know anyone at this event, not really.

You’re far too young, the next youngest people at the gala are brother’s age, and even still, Sej is 10 years older than you. It makes you feel queasy, knowing most of these men in attendance are nearly old enough to be your father, and they are all staring at you.

Staring at you like you’re a fine piece of meat, and they’re starving for a taste.

You sit down next to your brother, and quickly survey the other guests seated at your table. Clemensia Dovecoat, Festus Creed, Livia Cardew, Persephone Price. All your brother’s age, no one younger. You want to shrink back into your seat, become invisible.

You have no idea why your brother invited you to attend this Gala with him, but you have a feeling it was not with the purest intentions. As you graduated from the Academy, both your parents and your brother were pushing for you to find a suitor, to further better the Plinth name. Frankly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to give a damn, you were far more worried about being successful at the University to find a husband.

“Hello.” A familiar, yet unfamiliar voice breaks you from your reverie. Coriolanus Snow, or should I say President Snow, you think. You couldn’t lie to yourself, he was a very attractive man. Having been very young when your brother began bringing him around to your family’s manor, you only had some vague memories of Coriolanus, however, he has been a close friend to Sejanus, so he’s been around your vicinity for years.

I wouldn’t mind marrying him, your thoughts betray every fiber of your being, who you are. You are an independent woman, you don’t need a man, you need to do well at the University, and score a job. Not fawn over the President of Panem. Oh well, you think, he wouldn’t want anything to do with someone as young as me.

“Hello, Coriolanus.” Your brother greets him warmly, then lightly touching your arm, “I don’t know if you remember my sister, Y/N, but I’ve invited her as my guest tonight.”

“Hello, Mister President.” You say, wanting to roll your eyes at the pomposity of the statement you just spoke. You quickly scanned Coriolanus, and you were not disappointed. Blonde hair slicked back, beautiful blue eyes, a tight crimson suit that perfectly accented the muscular frame you were sure was underneath it.

“No need for the formalities, Ms. Plinth, just call me Coryo.” He responds, giving you (and your body) a quick glance in return. You want to blush at his actions, but you restrain yourself.

“Then call me Y/N, Coryo, Ms. Plinth is much too formal for me.” You bite back, cracking him a smile. He returns it, before turning to your brother.

“Mind if I borrow your sister for a dance, Sej?” He asks your brother, missing the wicked glare that Livia sends you. You’re not sure why she’s upset with you. You knew the President was a single man, which was a rarity in the politicians in Panem. But, you’re no where near his age range. He wouldn’t want you like that, right? He would want someone like Livia, perfect and his age.

“Of course not, thank you for being so kind to her. She’s a little overwhelmed with the gala, as is to be expected. She’s never been to one this formal before.” Sejanus tells Coryo, and you smile weakly, standing up, wobbling slightly in the heels that were a little too high for you.

Coriolanus rounds the table, grasping your hand lightly in his much larger one, leading you to the dance floor in the center of the room. He circles his arms around your waist easily, and you reach up to circle yours around his neck. He begins swaying you gently in time with the music before opening his mouth to speak.

“I don’t remember Sejanus mentioning that he had such a beautiful sister.” He whispers to you, leaning his head down so you could hear his words. He was well over a half a foot taller than you, even with you in your heels. That thought was dizzying.

You blush in response to his words, ducking your head. But you don’t stay that way for any more than a moment, as he brings two of his fingers under your chin, before lifting your chin up, to meet his gaze. “I mean it, dove. You’re simply stunning.”

The flattery was almost too sickly sweet, but you relished in it. “Thank you, Coryo.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, you had never been in a situation like this. Sure, the boys from the Academy thought you were pretty, but they were nothing compared to the President of Panem.

“You are very welcome, darling. Tell me, how old are you? I cannot remember your dear brother ever mentioning your age.” There it is, you thoughts begin ruining the moment, he will no longer be interested in you once he finds out you are so young.

“I just turned eighteen, I am set to become a student at the University in the fall.” You look into his eyes, expecting to see something, a wavering of interest, anything. But instead, you see nothing.

“I see.” Is all he says, continuing to sway to the music, holding you. His grip tightens lightly, as more people make their way to the dance floor, like he doesn’t want to lose you to someone else, some other man. Like anyone would dare attempt to snatch you away from the President of all people.

“I was expecting you to be a bit older,” He continues, giving you another look, throughly analyzing every part of your body, “Especially when Strabo mentioned to me a potential love match in his darling daughter.”

It’s like a bomb has gone off, shattering your world around you. Of course he wasn’t really interested in you, foolish girl, you think. It was set up, so you could finally find the suitable husband your father had been discussing since it had been deemed socially acceptable to do so.

“A potential… what?” You spat out, not harshly, just in surprise. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Love match, darling. But, you may be just a bit too young for me.” He tells you, shattering your heart just a bit. You knew he was too old for you, no matter the attraction you felt for him. Not to mention that your father was simply trying to better the position of the family name by attempting to marrying you off to him.

You weren’t sure what to feel. You wanted Coriolanus, in ways a woman of your social standing shouldn’t. Especially given the age difference that was present between the two of you, however, there was no denying his pure masculine beauty. There was still that thought in the back of your mind that by engaging yourself with Coriolanus, you would be pleasing your father and his wishes for you. In this moment, you knew everything you felt about Coryo would override the disdain you had for pleasing your father.

“I’m not too young.” You almost whine back at him, a light pout forming on your lips as you stare into his impossibly blue eyes. You didn’t want him to see you as too young, you wanted him to see you as just another woman. Who cares that he was nearly ten years older than you?

“Is that so, princess?” He chastises you jokingly, before continuing, “You said you were eighteen, right?” He waits for you to nod, then resumes, “Well, do the arithmetic, little one. If I am twenty eight, and you are eighteen, that leaves us with a ten year difference.”

“I don’t care about that Coryo.” You find yourself frustrated. You wanted him, especially after all of the praise he had given you. Right now, in this moment, the ten years between the two of you didn’t matter. “I find myself rather attracted to you.” You tell him, honestly.

“Is that so, little one?” He asks, smirking at your words. He knew he could mold you into the perfect little wife, so young, so innocent still, unlike the women his age, who already knew what they wanted and simply wanted him for the money and glory that came along with marrying the President.

“Yes, please. I want you. My father was right, about the potential love match. Please, don’t leave me to marry some other man that isn’t twice the man that you are. I know I am young, but that doesn’t matter. I’m old enough to know what I want. Please, Coryo.”

You beg him, not sure exactly why you wanted him so bad. You had just really met him after all. But he was so attractive, so powerful. Something about him enticed you, and you didn’t want to let it go before anything could even potentially happen, before you could see where it progressed between the two of you.

“If you’re so sure, little one. However, this is a conversation we should have somewhere more private, away from prying eyes.” He tells you, raising your hopes ever so slightly. He wasn’t outwardly telling you no, and that you were absolutely too young for him.

Silently, he seizes swaying instead turning you so that you are pressed tightly to his side, one arm firmly grasped around your back, the other arm falling to his side as he led you out the doors to the ballroom, further into the Mansion, and into what you could only assume was his bedroom, gently closing and locking the door behind him, not unnoticed by you.

He is silent for a moment, before speaking, “You mentioned other men. You are going to be mine, little dove. No other men matter to you. I’ve been aware of your age this whole night, and your father and I have been discussing this chance meeting between us for some time now.”

You want to feel disappointed, or disgusted. Your father and Coriolanus, going behind your back, planning your future without a say from you. Planning when you would meet, when would be the right time. You had so many thoughts swirling in your head, it was overwhelming.

“How. Long.” You spat out at him, visibly upset. You wanted him, sure. But if he had been going behind your back, and truly knew of you well before you knew of him, you weren’t as sure. It felt almost predatory, knowing you were barely legal.

“Just over a year, darling.” His words made you want to vomit. Before you were legal. Your father, planning a marriage to a man ten years your senior, when you weren’t even legally able to be married, or have intercourse. You started to sway on your feet, feeling faint. You couldn’t believe it.

Coriolanus reached out a strong arm, steadying you, before grasping your hand and pulling you to sit on the edge of the bed. With you sitting, and he standing, the height difference became even more pronounced. You had to crane your neck to meet his eyes, even when you did not want to.

“A year.” You started, thinking for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. “My father has been meeting with you for a year, to discuss marriage. When I wasn’t even legal!” You yelled at him from your seated position, not feeling stable enough to attempt standing.

“I know it’s wrong, little one. And I am sorry. I only learned of you not being eighteen last night. This entire time, up until last night, I thought you were already eighteen, or older. Your father never mentioned your exact birthday, only that you were of marriage age.”

Your rage for Coriolanus dissipated, the only anger that remained was for your father. You couldn’t take it out on Coryo, who didn’t know you were underage for most of the planning, not until it didn’t matter. He was just as innocent as you.

“It’s alright.” You kept your statement concise, not sure what else to say, without bursting out into tears. You could already feel them welling in your eyes, and you begged them not to fall.

The tears didn’t do unnoticed by Coriolanus, who looks taken aback at the thought of you crying. “Don’t cry, little one. It’s alright, I assure you. I am going to give you some space, and some time alone. You are to wait here, however. I am not forcing you, but I would prefer we continue this conversation when you are ready.”

He leans down, and presses a small kiss against the crown of your head gently before making his way toward the door, grabbing the knob.

“Wait,” You start, tears starting to fall at the thought of him leaving you alone. “Stay, please.” You beg.

“Sweetheart, I can’t. I need to give you space to think. I don’t want to force this upon you.” He tells you honestly, turning the knob.

“But why?” You state, petulant like a child. The child that you still practically are. “Just stay here, with me. I’ve already made up my mind.” You say, standing back up onto your feet, making the few steps to the door, grasping his upper arm gently.

“I can’t.” He says simply, not moving. He looks almost conflicted on right or wrong in this moment. Your lip begins to wobble, as you think about him leaving you.

“But why, Coryo? I already made up my mind. My father may have hid the truth about my age from you, but I want you. Please.” You plead with him, willing him to stay in this room with you.

“I’m way too old for you, my love.” Coriolanus stops turning the knob, though. Standing, waiting for you to speak again. He had to at least partially hear you out, and he wanted to know your rationale.

“And what if I don’t care if you are far too old for me?” It was your last feeble attempt at getting him to stay. If he wanted to stay, it was up to him now. You weren’t going to plead with him, he was a grown man.

“I can see how much you would prefer it if I stay.” He says with a sigh, pulling you into his arms, his warm embrace surrounding you with a feeling you had never acted upon before.

“Coryo,” You whisper, “I want you. I want you so bad.” His eyes widen in surprise at your words, confused on what exactly you meant by wanting him.

“What do you mean, little one?” He doesn’t get the chance to do anything but whisper back that sentence before you were leaning up on your tiptoes, and your lips pressed against his, hard. He doesn’t fight you, quickly kissing back.

He adjusts you so that your back is up against the door, and your fronts are pressed together tightly, without breaking the kiss. He runs his hand along the curves of your waist, before bringing his hands to cup your ass lightly. You let out a gasp, and he uses that to his advantage and slips his tongue into your mouth, tongues tangling.

He then drops his hands to below your knees, sweeping you into his arms, and carrying you back to the bed. He disconnects the kiss, with a whine falling from your lips, lightly setting you down on the bed.

“Are you sure, little dove? I can stop if you aren’t sure.” You appreciated his concern in this moment, but all you wanted was him. You vocalized that to him, and he smiled. He pulled you, so that your feet were dangling off the edge of the bed, where he was still standing. Getting down on his knees at your feet, he gently unbuckled the heel, and removed it from your foot, one foot at a time. As he removed the shoe, he ran a hand over the soft skin, before pressing a kiss to the sole of your foot.

He kissed his way up your legs, up to your thighs, being met with the skirt of your dress. He flipped the skirt up, over your hips, and met your eyes again as his hands made their way to the edge of your underwear.

“Still alright, little one?” He asked, thumbs in the band of the underwear, waiting for permission to pull them down. You nodded at him, with a weak grin. Coriolanus smiled back at you, before pulling the panties down your legs, over your ankles.

He spread your legs, so that your wet heat was visible to him. He grinned, before leaning down and licking a teasing stripe up your pussy, You moaned lewdly, legs closing around his head, locking him in place. He continued his broad licks, eventually moving to circle your clit until you were twitching. He stuck his tongue inside of your hole a few times, and that was enough. You gushed around his tongue, quickly becoming overstimulated and pushing his head away.

As he brought his head out from between your thighs, you noticed his face was covered in your juices, and you laughed. He cracked a smile at you, allowing you to breathe for a few moments together. He gently helped you to your feet, to your confusion for a moment, until he spun you so that he could unzip your dress.

Once you were fully bared to him, dress gently placed on a chair in the corner, he began to undress for you. The suit jacket first, then the button up, revealing his pale yet well formed chest that had you licking your lips in anticipation. His shoes were toed off, and socks removed too. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly before removing his slacks and boxers, cock springing up, very obviously hard, the tip nearly purple as he looked at you.

You felt intimidated. You were a virgin, and his cock was so long, and so thick. You knew it was going to hurt, and you hoped he wouldn’t let it hurt you too bad.

“Coryo,” You whispered, “I’m a virgin.” He stopped, and looked you directly in the eyes.

“That’s alright, little one. I’ll be careful, so so gentle. I promise.” He tells you earnestly, and you smile at him, nodding. You trusted him, he had never lied to you before, not willingly.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, before climbing on top of you, his strong forearms next to your head. He grabbed his cock, positioning it with your hole, before gently beginning to push in.

You flinched at the intrusion, body wincing at the pain from his cock splitting you open. Tears sprung back into your eyes, and he stopped pushing in, giving you a moment to adjust. He kissed you, making out lightly for a moment.

“You can keep going.” You said, breaking the kiss. You hissed as he kept pushing, but eventually, he was fully sheathed inside of you, and the sting had dulled down to a pressure inside of you. You looked down, and you could see a faint outline of his cock on your stomach and you smirked.

“Look, darling.” You directed him to where you were looking and he smirked back at you.

“Look at you, little one. Your body is taking me so beautifully.” He responded beginning slow, thrusts in and out, keeping tempo.

“Please, Coryo. More!” You begged him, and he began thrusting faster, pressing into a spot inside of you that made you see stars. You moaned loudly at that feeling, his cock slamming into it every time he thrust back in. You couldn’t stop letting out little noises of pleasure, it felt too good. He let out little grunts too, praising you for taking him so well, being such a good little girl.

“Rub your clit for me, darling.” He directed you, breathing becoming heavier, thrusts more erratic. You could tell he was close, but you wanted to orgasm with him. You rubbed your clit harshly, moaning, and tightening around his cock.

“I’m so close!” You cried out, circling faster as he continued to pound in and out of you.

“As am I, little one.” He grunted back. “Come for me, darling. I’ll come for you.”

You allowed yourself to come, soaking his cock with his juices, and he spurted deep inside of you. He groaned as he pulled out, immediately missing the tight warmth of your cunt.

“You did fantastic, love.” He tells you, falling nearly on top of you, worn from the excursion. You gently scratch his scalp with your fingers, soothing him.

“I should be telling you that,” You laugh, continuing to massage his head.

“You are mine now, darling.” He grunts, completely blissed out, resting his head on your chest. “Age does not matter to me, little one.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.” You rolled your eyes, smiling at him. “I am to be yours, forever.”

“Mine.” He agrees. You don’t say anything back, basking in the afterglow. After tonight, you know that your future plans have shifted, and you couldn’t find it in you to care. You still had that independent woman in you, but now, with a powerful man by your side. You’d found yourself a wonderful man in the President of Panem, and you didn’t plan on letting him go.

#coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n

1K notes · View notes

phoward89 · 3 months

Text

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: You're the winner of the First Quarter Quell and you awaken in the hospital to Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your bedside.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Mentions of death, Mentions of planning murder, Mentions of cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Mentions of poison, Large age gap/difference (Coriolanus is 33 while reader is 18), Manipulation, um...trying to think of anything else.

Story Masterlist

Chapter 1:

When the Head Gamemaker’s baritone blared out overhead, naming you the victor of the First Quarter Quell, you literally collapsed into a heap on the blood soaked ground from a mix of exhaustion and happiness. Your eyelids drooped and the last thing you saw before you passed out was a pair of peacekeepers coming towards you.

When you woke up, you were in a sterile white room. A hospital room. You had drips and IVs connected to you along with some monitor that made beeping noises. Blinking to readjust your eyes to the brightness of the artificial light, you surveyed the room only to notice that sitting in a chair right next to your bed was none other then the head gamemaker himself. Coriolanus Snow.

“What are you doing here, Head Gamemaker Snow?” You curiously asked. Surely he had better things to do then be at your bedside. Like being home with his wife. Oh and you knew he was married because 1.) He was wearing a gold band on his ring finger and 2.) You've seen a dirty blonde woman his age on his arm in a few pictures of Victor's balls and such in the cheap Capitol rag mags that get circulated around District 12 to be used as tp by the poor and destitute.

Staring you down with his icy blue eyes, he said, “I'm making sure that District 12’s first victor in 15 years survives.”

His words made a shiver run up your spine. It was common knowledge that District 12’s first and only victor (until now) had mysteriously vanished into thin air a few months after winning her games and returning home. Nobody dared talk about her. Her name was lost to the wind; she was a ghost that nobody paid any mind too. The fact that the head gamemaker wanted to make sure that you didn't die unnerved you.

Surely you weren't in that bad of shape, were you? Swallowing a lump in your dry throat, you croaked out, “How bad of shape am I in, Head Gamemaker Snow?”

“Please, darling, call me Coriolanus or Coryo, if you'd like.” The platinum blonde, who looked a bit sleep deprived in his wrinkled button up (as if he'd slept in it) told you. “I insist.” He smiled.

Him calling you darling and insisting that you call him Coriolanus or Coryo made your insides churn. It wasn't right. Why would he be so informal with you. He was the head gamemaker, a 33-year-old man from the Capitol, and you were just a victor, an 18-year-old girl from District 12. You two shouldn't be informal with each other.

“Oh, where are my manners? You must be thirsty. Let me get you some water.” Corio- no Head Gamemaker Snow lightly chastised himself while rising from his chair.

Crossing the room to a counter where a tray with a pitcher and glass were, he explained, “When the peacekeepers pulled you out of the arena you had collapsed from dehydration.” Pouring you a glass of water, he further explained, “Your vitals were very low and, in fact, you died once on your way here, but the medics brought you back.”

“What the hell? I died?...” You gasped, struggling to comprehend what you just heard.

Head Gamemaker Snow appeared by your side and placed the water glass into your hand. A hand much smaller and weaker than his large calloused one. “Yea, but you were revived.” Sitting on the edge of your bed, causing it to dip, he motioned for you to drink. “I must have my Victor alive and well, so that's why I've been keeping watch over you, Y/N.”

His words should've made you see a red flag waving in the air, but it didn't. Maybe you were too young and naive to catch onto the true meaning of his words. Maybe they went right over your head because you were still weak, or maybe since you had a stalker back in 12 that you had convinced yourself was just a weird neighbor boy you didn't realize the true possessive meaning of Coriolanus’ words.

“Are you going to stay here now that I'm awake or?...”

“Unfortunately, I have to leave you here and go home.” He pouted. What the hell, he actually pouted? You had to admit that his plush lips looked very kissable when he pouted. Petting your hair, he gave you a reassuring smile. “Don't worry, darling, I've made sure that you'll be well taken care of by the best nurses that money can buy in the Capitol.”

What he didn't tell you was that he threatened the lives of the nursing staff’s loved ones if you so much as had a hair out of place. That was something you didn't need to know. Just like you didn't need to know that when he first laid eyes on you, in your best cotton floral dress; your hair pulled back with a ribbon for Reaping Day, he found you the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on and just had to claim you as his. Reason why, as the head gamemaker, he might or might not have screwed around with other tributes’ sponsor gifts and made sure you got a few things here and there that would ensure your survival. You had an innocence to you that he had the primal urge to consume. An innocence that was absent in the Capitol. An innocence and a beauty that he carved to have all to himself.

You just being you consumed him with a passionate obsession. One that he would act on soon. Very, very soon. He just needed to take care of his wife, Livia, so that he'd be free to make you his forever. But that wouldn't be hard, considering he was a master at making people drop dead from sudden food poisoning.

Pressing a kiss to your hair, Corio- no Head Gamemaker Snow, promised, “I'll be back in the morning to check up on you before I'm needed at the Citadel.”

“You have to wrap up the game stuff don't you, Head Gamemaker Snow?” You asked, even though you were sure he'd say yes. In fact you didn't even know why you asked that. Maybe as a replacement for goodbye since you hated that word.

Last time you said goodbye to somebody it was your mother and she took off with some officer, leaving you with your older half-brother Rein to take care of you both. He was 15 at the time and you were 5. Safe to say, you never used the word goodbye again in your life.

“I told you, call me Coriolanus or Coryo.” He reminded you, not liking that you were still calling him by his title. “Yes, my darling rose, I must make sure that all the paperwork is in proper order for your prize money and the construction of your house in Victor's Village.” The platinum blonde man, who you just noticed has bags under his eyes, tiredly told you before pressing another kiss to your hair. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he said, “You need to be a good girl and rest for me.”

You blinked at him. What? Be a good girl? And rest for him? Say what? Your brain was short circuiting at his words. Not just his words, but the way his baritone was both dominant and soft as he spoke them.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he simply said, “We'll talk more tomorrow. I promise.”

“Okay.” You nodded numbly, unable to comprehend what the hell was happening. You went like your head was spinning, as if you had too much moonshine. Hell, what had your time in the arena done to you?

Coriolanus gave you a pleased smile before rising from his spot on your bed and walking out of your room; making sure to close the door behind him. It was only after he was gone that you realized you were in a private room.

Coriolanus was fucking exhausted when he got home. He could barely keep his eyes open as he stepped out of his black sedan. After you were admitted to the hospital, he dismissed his driver and drove himself there. He didn't want the man to be waiting around on him while he stayed steadfast at your bedside, plus he was more than capable of driving himself home once he saw you open your beautiful eyes. What he wasn't expecting was for you to be asleep for over 24-hours.

So, sleep deprived, Coriolanus walked into the townhouse he shared with his wife, Livia. The townhouse was a gift he received from Strabo and Ma Plinth once he announced his engagement, but he planned on putting it up on the market once he took care of Livia. He didn't want to bring you to this house that held nothing but hatred and misery in it.

No, he was going to bring you to his penthouse on the Corso. Now that's a proper place for you to live with him. In fact, he'd be telling you about your new residence tomorrow morning during your visit. Oh, he was so excited to tell you that you'd be staying in the Capitol with him. Of course, he'd use the excuse that since District 12 doesn't have a Victor’s Village and it must be constructed that he's arranged for you to use his Corso penthouse during the construction period.

It was a great plan. One that was foolproof. He just knew that you, being so young and innocent, would view his offer as one of help instead of one of ownership. Or, dare he say, love? Yes, love. He was sure that he was obsessively in love with you. It was a feeling he swore to never feel again, but yet again one just can't help who they fall in love with.

He always thought that marrying for hate instead of love or even tolerability would give him power, but truthfully all it gave him was a headache and a bad case of blueballs. Livia was a heinous bitch and was a cold fish in bed. She didn't like to fuck. What the fuck? Who doesn't like to fuck? Coriolanus thought that was absurd, unnatural even.

That's why he had to have affairs here and there; then turn the whores into avoxes to keep their mouths shut when he was done with them. What? He was a man after all and had needs. Needs that he knew you'd fulfill without any problems. With you he'd be faithful because you'd be his mind, body, and soul and would do anything for his love since you were so young. All he had to do was show you how in love *cough* obsessed *cough* he was with you and you'd be his forever.

Unknown to Coriolanus, the object of his marital hatred (Livia) was having an ongoing affair with one of the male avoxes in their household. An avox that had once been an equal of theirs in the Academy and the University, but crossed Snow the wrong way with a question about the songbird from 12.

Coriolanus wasn't even to the stairs yet when he heard Livia’s screeching coming from the front sitting room. Great…seems like the bitch was waiting up for him.

“Coriolanus, where have you been? The games ended and you never came home!” Livia demanded in a high pitch scream as her fuzzy heeled skippers clicked loudly against the hardwood floor as she ran out of the sitting room and into the main hall.

“Don't worry about where I was, Livia.” Coriolanus venomously gritted out as he made his way to the staircase.

“You're my husband, Coriolanus. I'm supposed to worry about where you've been.” Livia shrieked while following her husband.

“I'm your husband when I don't come home, but when I'm home we have separate bedrooms and you come up with every excuse under the sun not to fuck me.” Coriolanus spat back as he tiredly trudged upstairs, feeling a migraine coming on from his wife's nagging. Oh, how he needed to poison that bitch yesterday.

“Your tastes in bed are not the same as mine, husband.” Livia said, placing special emphasis on the word husband, while following him upstairs. “You're too harsh for my taste, but that doesn't mean you can stay out for days on end with some whore.”

All Coriolanus could see was red, like a raging bull, after hearing her remark. How dare she insult his prowess in bed? He knew how to fuck a woman and how to fuck her good; he never had any complaints either until he tied the knot with Livia. Damn bitch, won't fuck him and then insults his ability to fuck. Oh, yes, it was time for her to go.

She outlived her usefulness. Livia couldn't give him the one thing he most desperately needed. An heir. What use did Coriolanus have for a woman that refuses to have his child? After a decade of hell with his wife, he was ready to cut his losses. He had control of her family's bank and the Plinths fortune, plus his status as Head Gamemaker and Senator along with his position on the War Council was more then enough to make him a successful candidate for president once the elder President Ravenstill kicked the bucket. He didn't need her for an heir anymore, not when he had you (you were young and fertile enough to give him litters of heirs).

Oh, Coriolanus knew exactly how to make up for never coming home after the games ended with Livia. Oh, yes, he did.

“The victor, Y/N, from 12 was in bad shape and I had extra paperwork to do.” He smoothly lied to his dirty blonde wife as he set foot onto the second floor of his townhouse. Turning to look at her, he gave her a fake smile full of fake sympathy and offered, “How about I take you out to your favorite restaurant for dinner? The one that has that red wine you can't get enough of.”

“Yes, I accept your apology and dinner invitation. Just don't do this to me again, Coriolanus. We might hate each other, but I'm still your wife and deserve respect.” Livia told Coriolanus before taking off to her room, her robe billowing behind her.

Coriolanus smiled wickedly as he retired to his room. Oh, after tomorrow night he'd never have to deal with Livia ever again. He'd be free to have you all to himself, forever and always.

You were walking in the plains, tall prairie grass blowing in the wind. The deeper you walked in it, the more dread you felt. You couldn't describe the feeling, but you just knew that something was wrong. Then, suddenly, you heard a crunching sound behind you. Turning around, you saw the last tribute, a girl from 2, with a knife in her hand running towards you.

You were exhausted and thirsty. The water you had been gifted from a sponsor had run out nearly a day ago, so you were feeling the effects of dehydration. You didn't know if you either didn't have a lot of sponsors or weren't getting any more water bottles because a water source was nearby somewhere, but you did know that it sucked you were dying of thirst.

But your thirst didn't matter now. Surviving the girl from District 2 did and you knew you wouldn't be able to fight her in the tall grasses. So you ran. You ran as hard and fast as your lightheaded feet would carry you.

It didn't take long until you were out of the tall grasses and on a barren field of cracked soil. You had a small pocket knife that was gifted to you, something you were sure cost a hefty penny since sponsor weapons were always pricey according to Lucky Flickerman’s game commentary.

Flipping the switchblade open, you turned around and headed straight towards the girl that had tripped and fell at the edge of the plains grasses and the dry bed of field soil. Lifting up your knife, you made to plunge it into her, only for her to look up at you with a sinister smirk and plunge her knife right into your neck.

Your eyes flew open as you screamed bloody murder. You died! You had died in your nightmare instead of being victorious. That nightmare shook you to your core. It frightened you so much that you screamed yourself hoarse, until your vocal cords were stripped. You were so frightened that you huddled in the corner of your room in a fetal position.

Nurses and other hospital staff tried to tend to you; get you out of the corner, but you just struggled and fought with them. You couldn't let them near you. What if they wanted to kill you? What if they hurt you? Your dream had shaken you up so bad that you weren't quite with it yet. You weren't in reality, you were stuck in your own head and afraid that somebody or something was going to get you. You were scared out of your wits. You were so scared that you cried. You weren't aware that you were crying, but the tear stains marred your hollowed cheeks like scars.

Coriolanus had only been asleep for an hour or so whenever he was awakened by a call from Capitol General Hospital. What the charge nurse told him made his heart clutch painfully. His victor, his darling rose, woke up terrified out of her mind and curled herself into a corner, screaming and crying her head off.

“She's having a nightmare about her time in the arena. Aren't you giving her anything to calm her down?” Coriolanus asked the nurse he was on the phone with as he sat up in bed, flipping on his bedside lamp to softly illuminate his pitch black room in a golden glow of light.

“She won't let anyone near her and you did say to call you with any updates on her condition, sir “ The nurse hesitantly told him.

“I’ll be right there to sign her out since your hospital staff are incompetent and can't properly take care of a victor.” He told the nurse before hanging up on her.

It only took a few minutes for Coriolanus to dress and rush to the hospital. Despite being exhausted, you needed him and he wasn't going to let you down. You were his and he was going to take good care of you. He always took good care of his things. He did like his things to be perfect and if they weren't then he'd make sure that his favorite things were mended until they were perfect. You were his and he'd make sure that he made you perfect once more. Perfect for him, to be by his side as not just his Victor, but as his First Lady. His darling rose.

Dressed simply in a fitted white shirt and black pants, Coriolanus ran up the stairs to your floor and rushed into your room. The site of you curled up, tear tracks staining your cheeks, wide-eyed and afraid pulled at what little heartstrings were in his too small blackened heart. You looked like a wounded animal and he hates it. You were his victor, his darling rose, his future First Lady and he wanted you to recover your senses so that you could regain your strength; be all that he knew you were to him.

He slowly approached you with his hands out in a show of peace. “It's me, my darling rose. It's Coryo.” Coriolanus softy told you in an attempt to let him near you.

Your eyes blinked at hearing his nickname and for some reason you nodded at him. As he crouched down next to you, placing a tentative hand on your shoulder, you clutched the middle of his pristine white shit and sobbed, “I died, Coryo. I dreamed that I died instead of her.”

Your words gutted him. A world without you was no world at all. Wrapping his arms around you: letting you bury your head in his chest, he strokes your hair while offering you the comforting words of, “Oh, my darling, you're alive. You're alive and I won't let anything bad ever happen to you again, Y/N.” You shook in his arms, causing him to simply ask, “You hear me, my darling rose?”

“Mhm…” You mumbled out, too afraid to talk for fear that you'd start crying again.

“Shh…” Coriolanus shushed you like one would do a small, frightened child. “I'm here. Your Coryo’s here and you're safe. You'll always be safe with me, darling.”

If you were of sound mind instead of scared out of it (from the horrors he designed and put into the damn games) you would've ran far far away from Coriolanus. But, sadly, you were too scared and on the verge of a mental breakdown to understand how twisted the man holding you really was. How obsessessive he was; how wrong letting him hold you was. No, you were too afraid to realize that you were letting the creator of your nightmares comfort you.

Once your sobs subsided and you quieted down, Coriolanus pulled back from you so that he could tilt your chin up in order to have your eyes on his. “I was going to wait til morning to tell you this, but you’ll be staying in a luxurious penthouse while the Victor’s Village is constructed in your district.”

You nodded, only to squeakily ask, “How long am I staying here?”

“Oh, just long enough to build your victor's house. I suppose it'll be done by time your victory tour rolls around; maybe even sooner.” He smoothly lied. He had no intentions whatsoever to let you go back to District 12. You deserved more then the mud and poverty stained streets of the coal district. You deserved to be bathed in rose scented oils and salts, dressed in the finest fashions, fed the best foods, and fucked on the best silk sheets that his money could buy.

“Okay.” You nodded, naively believing the lies of the head gamemaker.

“How about we get you out of here and over to the penthouse? Hmm? I'll even call Tigris to come over and spend the day with you, how'd you like that?”

“I like Tigris. She’s nice and was my stylist. Always talked to me like she cared.”

Coriolanus knew that his cousin was your stylist. He's the one that assigned her to you after all. But neither you nor her needed to know that. No…. It wasn't important. What was important was that you two got along, especially since in a short while you'll be family.

“Tigris is my cousin; I'm glad to hear that you like her.” Coriolanus told you while helping you to stand up. “And she does care about you, Y/N.” He told you while leading you over to your bed. “Never forget that the Snows care about you. And that snow lands on top.” He whispered into your ear while helping you sit on your bed.

You just blinked at him, trying to process what he meant. You were so tired and mentally weak from your nightmare that you had no idea that his remark was one of possession. Your throat hurts from all the crying and screaming that you did, so you weren't thinking straight. Infact, your throat hurts so much that you grab the glass of water from your bedside table, quickly gulping it down.

“Be careful, you don't want to make yourself sick.” Coriolanus warned, much like a parent would to a child, while snatching the glass away from you.

“My throat’s dry and hurts. I need water.” You said in a pained whisper, side eying the glass in Coriolanus’ hand.

“Yes, well, that tends to happen when you scream and cry yourself hoarse.” He stated a bit coldly before lifting the glass to your lips and ordering, “Be a good girl and take small sips for me.”

You obeyed since your throat was aching. The small sips of the cool water seemed to soothe your damaged throat just enough to keep your mind off the pain. When Coriolanus felt you had enough to drink, he put the glass down on your side table.

Petting your hair, he said, “I need to go sign you out at the front desk, but I'll be back soon to take you with me to the penthouse. Where you'll be safe.”

“Thank you.” You weakly smiled at the man that was now both your salvation and your damnation.

If only you knew what life awaited for you at that penthouse. Would you still be thanking him if you did?

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kafkasmuses · 4 months

Text

lace garters

words : 3,903

tags : 18+!!! mdni! escorts , sex work , reader ! sex worker , vaginal sex , finger fucking , finger sucking , porn with feelings , brothels , oral sex , save a horse ride a whattt

p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!! ( divider by siren4u & gif by drewstarkrs )

billy was a virgin, surprisingly, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend, and the quick fucks from the escorts never enticed him much. many offered, when he would stop quick at towns for a simple beer or to take care of things— he would typically get stopped by the escorts dressed in their gorgeous silks, tight corsets, and sleeves that fall off their shoulders so easily it has your fingers itching with desire to fix it. it would make even the most sane man turn mad, and somehow billy never allowed himself to fall for it.

not until now, an escort stops him before he walks in a bar, “how old are you, dear?”

“19, ‘bout to turn 20,” his voice is smooth and sweet, southern drawl sweeping out with ease.

the girl hums out, tipping out of the way to allow his eyes to another girl standing far behind her, you, “you’re too young for me, dear, you should talk to her. she can show you a good time.”

typically billy would say no, offer a few coins for their efforts and simply walk into the bar like nobody had offered. but something was different when his eyes fell on you, you weren’t like the other escorts, quick to talk to the men and get some money for the events that take within the confines of the motel walls. you were rather looking off in the distance, your position more reserved rather than comfortable. it had him wanting to know more.

to be fair, billy was bored these days, all he did was travel and go from town to town, never leaving a mark on those behind. other than his wanted posters, which by the way, had an awful drawing on it. how the hell was he ever supposed to get a girlfriend with drawings like that made about him? each step is slow, calculated, as he moves over to you. he notices that mid way, your attention seems forced away from him.

are you afraid of him? he tips his head in your peripheral, easily looming over you, “darling.”

your eyes snap to him almost immediately, widening as if you didn’t think it would truly be him, yet you mumble out a, “honey.”

“lady over there told me to talk to you,” his head tips up, blue eyes piercing into you, even through the deepest of the night.

“i don’t want trouble,” you finally turn to him, the smell of musk and gunsmoke filling your nose as he bites through the toothpick in his mouth, “i hear you’re wanted.”

“wanted, but not trouble,” he corrects, smirk tugging at his right lip, “you don’t gotta tell anyone.”

“wasn’t plannin’ on it,” your voice is so sweet, it nearly has him doubling over. you’re teasing him, clearly, but billy has never backed down to a challenge once in his life, he can bet on that.

his eyebrow twitches upright slightly, “how much for thirty minutes, beautiful?”

“you can satisfy me in thirty minutes?” you tease, smile widening at your own joke.

his head cocks to the side, and he can’t help the way he licks his lips, cockiness coursing through his veins, “i probably could in ten.”

you can’t help the way your flesh feels like rubber over molten, cheeks flaring to a new maroon that you hadn’t expected. your eyes dare to match his, the lust unsheathed in the teal of his eyes, “thirty will be just a few coins.”

his hand moves to your jaw, tipping your head up further to look at him with ease, now you have no choice of looking away, “you don’t think i can in ten?”

“i doubt it,” your skin is hot underneath his touch, despite your bold demeanor.

“we’ll see.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the motel carried the same smell as it always did, the mix of mustiness, smoke from cigars, and whiskey. billy’s gut churned as you led him to the room that you always rented, surely, he was cocky at first— then he began to worry if he would even be good enough. he was a virgin, after all, and he’s sure you’d been with mostly experienced men. he doesn’t say anything once the door opens, seemingly every worry dissipates as you look back at him with a different look, your lashes flutter over your eyes with ease, the look is more seductive, siren like.

if you were a siren, consider him the sailors in those tales, lost in the tides and addicted to the song that oozed out your vocals.

he allows you to guide him to the bed, sitting him down on the thin, firm mattress with your hands lingering on his shoulders, “what would you like me to do?”

“i’d like for you,” he trails off, eyes tracing down your body, “to get on your knees.”

your hands leave his shoulders as you ever so slowly kneel down, every movement is well thought out, calculated, your body flowing in the most seductive ways. despite your lowered body, your eyes still remained up at him, the sudden doe look in your eyes making his legs spread ever so slightly. his hand is gentle when it touches your cheek again, pinky lining underneath your jawline as his thumb threatens against your lips.

it’s dangerous, the way you look at him, like your gun is being drawn to him with your finger teasing the trigger.

“and?” you add, his thumb teasing your now open lips. he tried not to flinch when your mouth encased his thumb, the warmth wetness of your mouth enveloping the skin. he finds himself unable to speak, unable to wonder whatever he wants— he wants to be stuck in this moment forever, it was greater than any other treasure he had come across. you were so good at your job, it made him want to know the lengths of your skills.

“suck me off,” he finally speaks, gentle to remove his thumb from your mouth.

it was a statement that you were used to, the firm tone, the expectation to get to it immediately— yet you are somehow surprised when it comes from him, it’s less firm, not like a demand but rather an offer, and there wasn’t a feeling of being rushed. for a man who seemingly had no time for women, he surely had a way to talk to them, to be gentler with them, unlike the other men. it was always cowboys who had the better ways of treating women, respectful with every word, or touch. his eyes are heavy on you, the curtains of your eyelashes blinking up to him, your lips tinted a sweet rouge due to a patted on lipstick, and he finds himself pushing his thumb across your lips, smudging the burgundy ever so slightly.

your hands smooth over the fabric of his pants, fingertips teasing the leather of his belt which accompanied his gun holster as you palmed him through his slacks. the touch of the leather was rich, sturdy and every loop was clean cut, rather than loose and falling apart like many belts you had undone before. you hear him groan as your hand gently pushes against his clothed cock, his back stiffening ever so slightly as a chill runs up it.

he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as you undo his belt, your fingertips threateningly close to his gun holster as you pull the leather from the metal to loosen it. a chuckle vibrates from his chest, voice lower than usual, “careful, princess.”

he lifts his hips as you tug down his pants, boxers following soon after to slip down to his ankles with ease. a hiss escapes him as soon as his hard dick is released to the cold air, with the opposing blow of your warm air on his tip. he was already so hard, as if he had been aching for a day like this. his hand moves to wrap around his base, hips scooting closer ever so slightly.

“open,” his voice is husky, yet velvety, like the thorn of a rose to the petals.

you’re quick to allow your jaw to fall slack, tongue smoothing out past the burgundy that coats your lips, as if you expected his next command. he taps his tip against your tongue, biting back the groan that thunders inside his every limb at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle. he allows you to take the lead, your tongue following the underside of his dick, memorizing each vein. when you reach his tip, you press a few sloppy kisses to it that has his breathing roughen, allowing you to open your mouth once more and take his length inside.

he sucks in a deep breath, a hoarse groan escaping past his lips when he exhales, allowing his teeth clench on the thin wooden toothpick that still remained in his mouth. his head tips back when you hollow your cheeks only mere seconds into sucking him off, his hat slipping off his head and falling onto the plush of the bedsheets.

his breath becomes ragged with the more you bob your head, allowing the tip to reach the back of your mouth, to the throat. his free hand moves to pass through your hairline, gripping at the beginning of your hair, even through your updo, loosening the tightening of the strands. the muscle in his arms flex underneath his short-sleeved button up, veins popping out every time you reach the base.

“good girl,” he breathes out, the whimper that vibrates around his cock making his release come quicker than expected, hand bunching up your hair as he has to move you back, off his dick to stop his orgasm. he heaves, noticing the way strips of saliva connect your mouth to his dick. he moves his hand from your hair down to your lips, watching the way your mouth instinctively opens then closes around his fingers, sucking them in with pure ease.

he allows you to wet them with your saliva until he pulls them out and mumbles a soft, “come.”

he helps you up onto his lap, the metal of his gun is a cooling sensation on his heated skin as he moves back, reaching under to toss his gun elsewhere. he had his guard down now, despite the large bounties on his head, he was too focused on you, and giving you the pleasure that you deserved. as you straddle him, his fingers dared to touch the bottom of your dress, threatening to raise, “may i?”

your eyes are tantalizing when they meet his, like the threatens of the deepest lust lie within them, and billy is willing to dive in, “you may.”

his hair is messy now, like he never took off that damn hat, and when he did— he didn’t bother to fix the hair underneath.

every movement is careful, meant to be more meaningful than a quick fuck, he raises your skirt until his eyes catch on to a white lace garter that’s propped around your upper thigh. so sweet, the purposeful placement of it all, it’s like a prize for whoever gets to raise your skirt. as you sit on his lap, your arms rest on his shoulders, a hand threatening the skin on the back of his neck as his hands move back around your waist, through the silk of the corset to the strings that hold it together on the back. his eyes are stuck onto you as his fingers begin to tug at the tie of the strings, they were in a harsh knot, but billy always knew his way around things.

kissing clients was typically a line many of the women wouldn’t dare to cross, sometimes not even you, but the way his eyes kept tipping down to your lips had you threateningly close to the now faded line. as the laces of your corset loosen, your head tips down to where your lips barely brush him, you can smell the mint already before even getting a chance. your lips move to close around the toothpick that he kept in his mouth, moving to spit it out and he was quick to chase your lips. as soon as you had spit out the toothpick, his lips finally pressed against yours, allowing your freshly manicured hands to curl through his brunette hair.

the fresh smell of your rose and jasmine was quick to his nose as he inhaled you up close, tongue teasing against your lower lip ever so carefully. there was a certain thirst that billy found himself feeling as he moves to spread your mouth open with his own, allowing your tongues to both clash, the mix of spit and remnants of mint and a cigarette becoming prominent to the taste. he wanted to drink every word from your lips, to suck in your siren song like his life depended on it.

when your hips bucked up against him, needy to feel a form of friction, it had encouraged him to finally free you from the confines of your corset. your lips part when he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down to your jaw, throughout until he meets your neck, the softness of his kisses making it feel as though doves were flying through the confines of your body. when his lips begin to move to suck on the delicate skin, you hiss, “dear, dear, you can’t leave marks.”

“your rules or brothel rules?” he murmurs against your skin, moving to toss away your corset onto the floor.

“brothel rules,” you hush out, and you feel his lips curl onto your neck.

“then ‘m gonna leave as many marks as i want,” he falls back into your skin, lips taking in the skin between his teeth as he moved to mark you as his own. the desire to have a prostitute as your own was a dangerous game, but billy had been a part of many dangerous games before, and now he was pulling all his money in with the unluckiest of cards— yet he still finds himself with the pride of feeling he will win. his lips pause at one of the pulse points on your neck, noticing how your heat beat quickens, and flutters, was this typical?

he wasn’t sure, but he finds himself praying it’s a good thing. he chuckles as your hands are desperate to unbutton his shirt, pushing each wooden button through the loops with ease, you had done this a million times before, this is the only time your heart is thumping in your chest when you do, though. he moves his hand down to take a hold of one of your wrists, “easy, girl, easy.”

“you said ten minutes,” you remind him, smile dripping on your lips.

“mm, i want longer than that,” he helps you unbutton the last few before taking off his shirt, noticing how your eyes trail down his figure.

“just sayin’ that because you can’t make me cum,” you break into a soft laugh against him, and he can’t help the way a small smile curves his lips as he takes off the dress that you were wearing. your body is alike to the statues you could only dream of seeing in those beautiful stories about gods and women who ruled. women who were worshipped, even as billy knew you for mere minutes, he found himself wanting to kneel at your altar, to worship the ground you walk on. to make you cum would mean more than he imagined at first, he wanted to be that man, to pleasure you in ways others haven’t.

his fingers slip underneath the hem of your panties, immediately exposed to the wetness underneath as it coats his fingers, “can’t make you cum yet you’re so wet for me, hm?”

you bite your lip, allowing your hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelopes your every thought almost immediately. though billy wasn’t quite sure about what exactly to do, he had heard the other cowboys speak of this, and he hoped it delivered as much pleasure as they said when he dips a finger inside of you. you’re loose around him, wet, yet sucking him in so easily. he’s quick to add another, finding his rhythm almost immediately and getting cocky with it. he dares to let his thumb tease the edges of your clit, as if he didn’t know it was there and he was merely looking for somewhere to place it.

he notices the way your nails dig in to his scalp, biting your tongue so hard that crimson may bleed from it with ease.

billy had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, and yet none have reacted the ways in which you do. they were quick to show how they react, every emotion not blanketed behind a curtain of embarrassment but now, despite it being your job to over exaggerate the pleasure, you found yourself shy to make noise. he moves to allow another finger to push inside of you, the pink velvet of your insides encasing his fingers with ease. he hears you gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. his thumb moves to your clit again, and that’s when your grip becomes lethal, biting your lip no longer becoming a guard for your moans.

“please,” you mumble out, whimpering.

“please what, princess?” you’re putty in his hands, and he’s kneading you with ease.

“i.. i need you,” you moan out, to be saying this to a wanted man, one who has killed, and committed theft, as well as escaped from prison— it was something you swore to never do. yet you were having sex with him and his touch felt so gentle it was as if it never happened, how could a man so dangerous be so kind? you feel a vein pulse from his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes following yours as he moves his hand up to his mouth, allowing his fingers to move in between his lips and the taste of you to savor his tastebuds.

your pupils dilate at the sight of him tasting you, skin warming before you can even realize that you’re moving to take his fingers out, replacing them with your tongue as your mouth presses against his again. his hand falls on your waist, other hand guiding his dick to your cunt as he deepens the kiss to feel you moan against his mouth. your tongues fight for dominance, each movement a hunger of it’s own but yours falls submissive as soon as his dick slides into you with ease. your velvet is tighter around him than he expected, and he feels the vibrations of your whines against his tongue, mumbling a small, “you’re so big—“ against his lips.

once you reach his base, you pull away from his lips, a mere string of saliva connecting you both like a lifeline.

now you have the lead to take, your lips connecting with his neck to leave marks on him, you wonder how the other cowboys will react as your hips start swaying on his dick, riding him with ease. will they laugh at him for all the prominent hickeys? there’s no way he could hide it, you’ve heard billy had girlfriends all around in many different towns and parts of the state, what if he went back to them and they saw all the marks? it would trace back to you, you’re sure of it, but something about that fills you with a sense of pride rather than fear. you’ve always adored the outlaws, even though you were raised to be a good christian woman, a good girl. the outlaws were always the sweet talkers, as you were told from the other girls at the brothel. you were told stories about how well they treated the women, their touch being better than most the regulars, their words so dirty you’d only dream of being told it until you had finally heard it.

now you found yourself in love with the idea of trouble, as you wrap yourself in the silks of his touch and the pleasure he gave you. his head tilts back to allow you more access to the free canvas of his neck, his hand raises, then immediately smacks onto the flesh of your ass. the slap tore a cry from your throat, into the skin that coats his neck, and a plain redness forms around the mark of his hand, branding you.

somehow, this was more intimate than your previous affairs, even despite the roughness of the sex. it felt like a wild play of ballet, an opera you would only dream of seeing, the gracefulness of each movement and the sweetness that drips like honey off each sound, even the sounds of skin slapping as you ride him. you taste the bitterness of his cologne as you reach the sides of his neck, sucking the pale skin with a need to create marks that last. he’s fascinated by your every movement, if this truly was a ballet, he would find himself in the crowd, watching the dancer move with such purity even during such a lewd act.

you felt yourself curl as your orgasm builds again, and it seems he is too in the way his hips begin to rock. every movement feels like being coated in molasses, trying to swim through it, the orgasms scorching through your inner thighs to your core until it wracks your body, hitting you harder than it had any other time. you don’t know what it was about him, but you were quick to flutter around him, and that had him pulling out, stroking himself for mere seconds until white stripes fall in messy streaks across your skin.

he pulls you closer when your lips move so your head tilts onto his shoulder, both of your guys’ chests heaving as if you had just been working out, as if you were running towards danger and felt the warmth of it’s embrace reel you in. it was billy’s arms, his eyes closing for a mere second before they open again, “thought i couldn’t make you cum.”

you hate the way you smile so easily at anything he says, the way you melt into his touch, the way even though you were merely a one night stand it felt like you wanted this to be an eternity, you wanted him to be a regular.

“mm, i faked it,” you say with a smile, so clearly a lie.

you move so he slips out of you, your cunt clamping around nothing as it missed the feeling of him inside of you. soon, you reassure yourself as you stand, convinced he will be returning. poor, poor girl, you were just another victim of the sweet talkers with pretty faces. it worsens as your legs become jelly, and he’s quick to stand, hands fastening to your waist and holding it to keep you balanced. his chuckle turns to a laugh, a deep, hearty laugh, “you sure, doll?”

you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, somehow your lipstick remained and it kept the mark staining his cheek as you left your kiss there. then you moved, taking your clothes and putting them on, “goodnight, billy.”

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