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paymechildsupport · 16 days

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ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ!Ryomen Sukuna x M!ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ!Reader //“𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲..?”

Request, @zxuii

--- "HI HIII first off, i love your writing style, i actually adore it lol. Second I want to request Teacher!Sukuna x Male!reader that was also a sorcerer from the heian era, a powerful one who gets jealous quite often of the attention Sukuna gets since back in the Heian era the only ones who where close enough to Sukuna was reader and Uraume (Unless Uraume didn't exist in this AU or smth happened) so a lot of fights between them break through since Sukuna isn't good with communication either. You can decide if you want this too be Angst in general or paired with something else i don't mind!! :))"

((I love this <3))

-!! M!Reader (he / him)

-!! Wee bit of angst (he's just a saucy boy) + goofy kinda smut (dunno what kind of style it's called lol)

-!! stuff ain't proofread 🥶

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

･・❥・---------------------------------------------------------------･・❥・

Sukuna remembers you vividly from the past; from that time 1000 years ago. How could he forget? Such a flamboyant character, – power exuded with every step, the earth seeming to shake with every fall of your foot. A wandering swordsman: a rather powerful sorcerer who curiously didn’t belong to any one clan. You’d spend your days traversing the earth, sleeping in the empty shrines near villages, taking commissions and odd jobs from just about everyone– human or not.

Sukuna found it odd how you didn’t align yourself with the standard belief of sorcerers: you were benevolent to cursed spirits like him, you didn’t have the sudden impulse to exorcize, to destroy. Perhaps it was your lack of loyalty to a clan, or the fact that curses could offer prices just as good– if not better, than humans. Either way, it was quite interesting when you crossed paths for the first time; him, the terrifying, all powerful King of Curses, – four arms and two grotesque faces, towering over you, a humble traveler, – and you just stood there, – smiling, at him, – the rumored monster of Ryomen Sukuna.

He was absolutely astounded, – had this guy not an ounce of fear? The singlest shred of self-preservation? You should be screaming– running, – begging at his feet for mercy, – not making small talk

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Excuse me? It’s pouring”

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed 😋”

He could sense a staggering amount of cursed energy from you, much more than the average sorcerer– let alone human.

“Nice jugs btw”

“???”

Bud was flabbergasted – he could only watch you walk away with a big grin on your face. Later that evening he had to bring it up to Uruame, who was cooking up the latest harvest of human bones:

“He said you had a nice chest.”

“Huh, usually one would think to say that to a woman–”

“Perhaps the sorcerer thought you were a woman”

“What.”

Ever since he’s had an affinity for you, a fascination… an obsession. He needed to know everything about you, – your goal, your motives, your desires, your deepest and darkest of fears, – the most depraved of thoughts of this strange sorcerer who had the gaul to compliment his chest like he was some kind of street whore.

He ran into you the next day at the same village, just as you were about to leave. You acted so nonchalant, like he was just another acquaintance, it was truly fascinating and… dare Sukuna say, endearing. He initially went there to kill you for your audacity from yesterday, yet he ended up only shit-talking the village folk wit you, – the old swordsmith who swore there were devils living in his chimney, - the old woman by the creek who was rumored to drown passerbys in the water next to her tiny abode, - the sleezy thug of a priest who thought it was funny to scam you for cleaning his shrine free of charge (whom Sukuna ended up gutting shortly afterwards). The curse was left to, yet again, return back to Uruame with new rantings of you

(just let them cook in peace 😭)

The next day, a band of those pesky Zenin showed up, – and Sukuna thought the opps were on him again. Turns out, not only were you not apart of any specific clan, but you were also quite unpopular with a majority of sorcerer society. After finding out, Sukuna couldn’t help but rush to your aid, determined to cleave the gang of sorcerers in half for trying to harm such an interesting specimen of his. Imagine his utmost surprise to find them not only beat upon his arrival, but diced up and dead on the forest floor, too.

He was beyond impressed: a seeming clanless nobody such as yourself had chopped down about a dozen of one of the most powerful sorcerers of the time. You saw him staring from afar, waving and flashing that stupidly charming smile of yours. Sukuna couldn’t help but invite you back with him, the dozen dead bodies in tow

Uruame cooked up a mighty fine dinner that night, one the three of you enjoyed together (yum, human flesh). From that day on you were part of the gang: you, Sukuna, and Uruame. Most days you would be off for up to months at a time, simply doing your own thing, going town to town. Whenever you’d run into your good pal as he was burning down the latest village you’d make sure to have a nice catch up over a warm meal (cooked by Uruame)

You and Uruame got along, – they liked the fact that you could often cook together, Sukuna– being useless as shit in the kitchen – was barred from helping lest he incinerate everything

But alas, you were mortal, fickle; temporary, – and no sooner did you come into his existence were you cruelly ripped from him, – finally effectively jumped and killed.

Sukuna almost couldn’t believe it: you never lost- you weren’t supposed to lose, but you did. You fought valiantly, taking an impressive number down with you. In the skirmish, Uruame disappeared, Sukuna was reduced almost to dust,-- miraculously he survived, albeit incredibly weak. They sealed a majority of his power away in his severed fingers.

Now, weakened immeasurably and down a pair of arms, – momentarily without his chef and darling sorcerer, Sukuna had a change in heart

No longer did he want to be the bad guy, he wanted to be good, to help others, – to help the future of jujutsu sorcery (nah, that’s some bullshit, he just wanted to continue being fed, and he could only be if he became a teacher in sorcery, lol)

—----

Flash forward to modern day…

—---

Seeing you once again, reborn, was a complete whiplash for Sukuna.

You recognized him immediately, obviously, – he was your man after all <3 (even if he denied it)

Poor baby had to physically restrain himself when he saw you back to kicking ass as a modern day jujutsu sorcerer, having not changed an ounce since he last remembered you

You miss his four arms, – almost more than Sukuna did. It disappointed Sukuna to see you disappointed with his lack of arm power. Still, he only needed two arms to absolutely destroy you--

After the incident with Yuji Itadori accidentally consuming one of his fingers (which made Sukuna livid– blud has been sweating and grinding to get those fingers back, and to find out some random goofy ahh kid decided to munch on one? And they wanna give him MORE??) – Sukuna has been absorbed more than ever into his work.

You adore his students, – especially Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – (much to Sukuna’s dismay) and oftentimes will stop by his lessons just to bug him in front of them

You were still the same insufferable charmer as before, shamelessly batting your eyes and making crude comments to catch him off guard:

“Hey cutie ;) “

“Hell do you want” he sneers, “wish to be my example for today’s lesson?”

“Nah, just passing by, – those pants make your ass look fat by the way”

“What.”

“Toodles !!”

It infuriated him, much to your delight

It was different now, back then it was just you and him, Uruame bearing the only witness to your shenanigans. But when you say those things in front of those brats, – the same brats who were taught to fear and despise his kind, who were suppose to be intimidated by him, – it makes his job of maintaining the tough, snide “King of Curses” just that much harder

Yuji, with all the time he spent with Sukuna as his main mentor, would ask about you frequently: what you were like 1,000 years ago. Whether it was the nostalgia or purely the fact it was you, – talking about it always softened Sukuna’s grueling and harsh belittling. Poor Yuji could only catch a break when Sukuna started saying “Back in my day..”

“Sukuna-sensei?”

“What, brat?” Sukuna paused, casting an unimpressed glare over his shoulder

Yuji propped his head onto a fist, leaning on the desk in front of him. The empty classroom was dimming with the setting sun, the vibrant colors that always made Sukuna wanna barf invaded through the windows from the sunset, painting the empty classroom a colorful ombre,

“You said that odd man who likes to hang around you was around 1,000 years ago, right?”

Sukuna’s eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, “Yes, and?”

“What was he like? Does he act the same as all those years ago? How’d he get reborn? What was your relationship like?” The curse wanted to punt the kid across the room with all his silly questions. Instead, – knowing you’d dislike it if he hurt Yuji, – he opted to take a deep breath, air hissing through his teeth, before answering,

“Mm, you brats are so invasive, – the world doesn’t revolve around you selfish vermin.” sighing, “but fine, I’ll entertain whatever silly fantasy you have about me in your head; he was a sorcerer, a pretty damn strong one, too”

“But you didn’t kill him-” Yuji interjects, confused

“No, I didn’t”

“Why, were you two good friends.?”

He growled at the quantity of the questions, causing Yuji to scoot back in his seat slightly,

“No– well, sort of. I’d assume you could say that.”

“No-? Really? Kugisaki thinks you two are dating”

Sukuna’s jaw almost drops to the floor,

“What.”

“Yeah, – Fushiguro says you two were together back then too, with the way you look at each other”

With the way he-?

“Was he your like… private prostitute or something?”

Sukuna has never heard such fuckery before:

“No. – I’d suggest you’d stop wherever you think you’re going with this, brat.”

“Did you bang though?”

That threw him for a loop, and Sukuna couldn’t help but wince at the term. “Banging” was a poor choice of words, – such a word couldn’t possibly do what you two did justice.

No, you didn’t “bang”

Sukuna couldn’t help but be drawn in by you, – your attitude, your carefree-ness, your power, he wanted it all for himself, – which he sometimes did

Those endless nights of pleasure where’d he just lose himself in you, - your affectionate caresses, your sweet nothings whispered into his ear that cast shivers all throughout. Sukuna was used to hearing praise showered upon his name, – his devotees throwing themselves at his feet to worship the ground he walked on. But he didn’t care for their praise, – not like he did yours. Your kind words were treasured, craved. If only you had been a woman: he would’ve made you a concubine, – no, – his wife.

—---

His ego is fragile, witnessing you tearing apart his terrifying image horrifies him.

Unfortunately for Sukuna, you couldn’t stop dotting on your pretty princess :3 It all came to a boiling point when you saw one of his colleagues start to cuddle up just the littlest bit too close: and he just let them. Seeing Mei Mei acting so clingy with the King made something in the pit of your stomach drop. Your envy boiled, sour and ripening into an ugly weed. It was obvious she held no actual affections (because one, – Mei Mei only lives for cold, hard cash, – which Sukuna didn’t really have on him, which was odd— and two, he was way too old for her tastes)

You just couldn’t help yourself, – he was wearing such a tight shirt, it hid nothing.

“Yo, nice tits”

He was done. You were done sullying his name with your filthy words, – you were done humiliating him. And he made sure you knew that too

He had pulled you into his empty classroom, all the students and staff long gone. Sukuna towered over you, cold glare sending a delicious shivering cascading through your body,

“Enough.”

“Eh..?” you wince, your voice sounded all wrong, too high pitch and breathy, “enough of what?”

Your damn smile again.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your humiliation is not appreciated.”

You scoff, “humiliation?”

He glares, “silence, brat” he firmly grabs ahold of your chin, forcing it upwards, making you look him directly in those creepy, maroon eyes.

One moment Sukuna has his emotions underwraps: he’s focused, – locked in, – he’s not going to let something as fickle as human ‘love’ hinder his plans. The more assertive the better, he would not be walked on – but he also didn’t want to accidentally lash out and do something he ends up regretting

The next thing he knows, Sukuna starts spiraling,

“You insist on following me, stalking me for over 1,000 years, – it’s pathetic” wait- what? No, he didn’t mean it like that

“--you mortal brats are as measly as ever, it’s no wonder you died to your own kind” pause, no, no, no, no, no….-- what was he doing? He didn’t actually mean that-

“--killed by fellow sorcerers: pathetic. Dead and reborn, you’re still the desperate mutt crawling back to me..” Stop. Make it stop. Someone stop him. Stop/

“Uruame should be back here instead, seeing you is the biggest disappointment in this millennium”

Oh..

“... fine then.” Your voice is quiet, small. Don’t look at him like that.

Sukuna’s eyes widened, but he couldn't seem to say anything, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Instant dread pools into his stomach

“I see how it is. If that’s truly how you feel…”

“Wait no–” Sukuna starts, immediately tensing up as you lower your eyes onto his. He swallows, hard. He hated the dejected, – the defeated look on your face. You looked so sad, and Sukuna couldn’t bear to see you sad , – something that terrified him to no end, — you terrify him to no end. You elicit the most exotic of feelings within him, reviving his ancient, rotten, worm eaten heart to a thunderous boom. Sukuna is reminded of the times back then: you laying in the field, hand twining in his hair, lightly scraping his scalp, – him sighing in content like an old dog. There would be the half eaten corpse of some unfortunate sorcerer off to the side, and you’d occasionally hand feed one or two limbs to the second mouth on his stomach, tongue out and awaiting like a dog’s for a treat —Such tender moments, the power you have over him makes him feel weak in the knees. Every instinct within him told Sukuna to run, - to protect himself from this threat that was your adoration. The thrill gnawed at him from the inside, – but oh, the ecstasy from it felt so good.

But he was Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses – he couldn’t face having such an open weakness – taking on a lover would feel like he had gutted himself, taking away a fundamental aspect of his existence as a character. You just have to keep stoking the flames. ,

… “nevermind, just go. I could care less”

You do, closing the classroom door behind you, and Sukuna can’t help but feel as if half of his soul leaves with you. This happened every time: he’d push you away, only to immediately regret it, craving deeply for your validation.

Shit, seems like he really did have a lot to learn when it came to such fickle human emotions.

He’d make it up to you, – he always did.

—-------

You were the only one to bring him to his knees, the only deity the King would bring himself to worship , – and what a divine thing you were.

Those nights of infinite passion, – you underneath him, (and occasionally him under you–) he’d take you with the utmost care. Ryomen Sukuna has never been “gentle” with something, – let alone with another living individual, – but with you his touches were always so attentive, so skillful and purposeful. He never wanted to hear you scream in anything but pure pleasure.

On the most precious of those nights, you’d coax the sweetest of noises from his lips. You could’ve sworn he has whimpered, despite his firm denial.

You were his God.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A/N: thank you for the request <3

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illustratus · 2 months

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The Vow of Clovis at the Battle of Tolbiac by Jean Baptiste Morret and Jacques Francois Joseph Swebach

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perlelune · 29 days

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | v.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You flinch as you enter Livia Cardew’s house, the attention drifting towards you causing your stomach to knot.

You suck in a lungful of bravery.

What a strange sight you must make, strolling in with Clemensia Dovecote and Coriolanus Snow of all people, her arm twined with yours while his hand rests on the small of your back. Your heart pounds in your chest, the urge to retreat and run outside radiating from every cell in your body.

You don’t belong here.

They will laugh at you.

Silly girl playing dress-up.

Tendrils of doubt creep alongside the walls of your fretful brain. You feel assessed, and perhaps found to be lacking, with every step you take.

“Don’t look down, angel.”

A sharp exhale flies from your lips as your chin is tilted upwards. You drown in the ocean beneath Coriolanus’ furrowed brow. His intense focus tugs you back to the present.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’ll be fine. You look stunning,” Clemmie assures, bumping your shoulder with hers.

You give a shaky nod. It’s true. After all, Clemmie put so much effort into your appearance. You should at least hold your head high and act normal.

Livia comes up to you. The dim candlelight reflects in her bouncy golden curls. Her bright red lips stretch in a wide smile as she gauges you.

“You guys came together?”

Despite her perky inflection, you don’t miss the slight narrowing of her eyes, or how they track the position of Coriolanus’ hand on your back.

“I drove them,” Coriolanus informs.

“Oh,” she says, nodding. She opens her arms. “You guys should get a drink, make yourselves comfortable.”

“I actually don’t…”

Clemmie flashes you a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. We’ll get you something else.”

They both bring you to a table where an intense game of cards is in progress. You hear Festus curse and bang his fists over the table after seemingly getting a bad hand. The others around him laugh, one of them reshuffling the cards.

Some faces you recognize from the University and others you don’t. You feel their intrigued gazes when Coriolanus pulls a chair for you. As you take a seat, he and Clemmie do the same. Your eyes roam over the table. Piles of chips, row of cards and red dices. Clemensia mentioned games. You supposed she meant card games. And from the looks of it, money appears to be on the line. You suppose when they are not betting on the lives of children, these are the kind of things Capitol kids are up to.

With money and time to spare, it makes sense you suppose. Your head has always been buried so far in your books, you have never stopped to wonder what the future leaders of Panem are up to.

A sliver of fascination flutters through you as you soak in the scene at the table.

“Snow. Clemmie. Took you long enough,” Ivy says.

“You cannot rush perfection,” Clemmie replies, flicking her glossy raven locks above her shoulder.

Ivy rolls her eyes while Coriolanus grabs a set of cards from the draw pile. He frowns at them, a look of displeasure spreading on his face. A King, a queen and two aces. You don’t know how this particular game is played but you gather from his expression that he must hold a bad hand.

Dices are thrown. Despite not understanding the rules, you try to follow along. When someone offers you a set of cards, you politely decline.

The dark-haired stranger cocks his head as he scrutinizes you.

“So, you’re her daughter, right?”

Confused, you cast him a puzzled look.

“Gaul,” he specifies.

You shrink. Wherever you are, you cannot escape the overwhelming reach of your mother’s shadow. Twisting your fingers in your lap, you give a mumbled reply.

“Yeah, she’s my mother.”

He shifts in his chair, letting out a quiet whistle.

“Wow. She always gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

Clemmie groans before scolding him.

“Well, she’s nothing like her mother so shut up and play, Octavius.”

Another girl sitting across from him pipes up.

“All those snakes in the arena, just crawling around and climbing over that girl.” She shudders. “I still get nightmares about it.”

The boy turns to Coriolanus.

“What happened to her anyway, that songbird of yours?”A smirk blooms on Octavius’ lips, his eyes locking with the blond’s. “She was yours, wasn’t she, Snow?”

An eerie quiet falls over the table. Even the soft piano notes playing in the background dwindle as every eye travels to Coriolanus. You shift in your chair, curiosity driving your gaze towards him as well.

A tight-lipped smile decorates his handsome features, his icy blue eyes zeroing on Octavius.

Your blood chills as his cool baritone rises.

“It’s your turn to play,” Coriolanus says, completely ignoring the question.

You swallow the lump in your throat. Everyone knows Lucy Gray Baird, the beautiful, sharp-tongued tribute who belonged to Coriolanus Snow, is a subject that should never be brought up in his presence. No one exactly knows what happened between the two. Perhaps they reunited during his time in District 12. Perhaps they did not. Coriolanus wouldn’t speak of it. And the rare times you witnessed him being asked about it, there was a coldness in his blue eyes that unsettled you. Like now.

Whatever happened between him and the singing girl would remain a mystery. The only certainty is that he came back to the Capitol changed, with an aura around him that made everyone wary.

You can only assume he and that Lucy girl did not last. So the subject must still be a sore spot.

Octavius flinches under the blond’s stare, showing his cards for the entire table to see.

The blond’s brow arches. Scoffing, he displays his own hand.

Octavius curses under his breath as laughs erupt. He begrudgingly slides his entire stack of chips towards Coriolanus.

Victory glints in the blond’s cobalt orbs.

“Perhaps you should focus on your game,” he says. “Instead of blathering about ghosts and district rats.”

Slack-jawed, you stare at Coriolanus. His expression before had you believe he drew a terrible set of cards. Obviously it wasn't the case. He somehow fooled you and everyone else at the table.

The game continues. More chips are exchanged. Coriolanus’ pile keeps getting higher. It’s clear he’s an expert at the game. Everyone at the table tries to read him but his collected demeanor concedes very little.

“You must be my good luck charm, angel,” he says, sending you a smile that has your stomach fluttering.

Luck…as you note the staggering amounts of chips he’s collected thus far, you wonder if that’s what this is. If there isn’t more to it. Coriolanus seems terrifyingly adept at luring his opponents with a false sense of comfort. He’ll make a bad hand look like a good one, and a good hand look like a bad one. Set a trap and watch as others confidently walk into it.

Growing overwhelmed, you rise from your chair. The clamor of your heart fills your ears, the weight of others’ attention making your head spin.

Coriolanus’ head slants.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

The words leave your mouth in a breathless heap. “I just need a minute.”

“Is everything alright?” Clemmie inquires, concern scrunching her pretty features.

You shift and scratch your arm.

“I’m just gonna get a drink.”

“I could get you one,” he suggests.

“No, you guys stay and play,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m fine on my own.”

You ignore the way his eyes linger as you walk away, that itchy prickle over your nape that ripples down to your spine.

Swallowing thickly, you shuffle across Livia’s living room. An Avox maid offers you a glass on the way but you turn her down.

You ask for an alcohol-free drink and the maid tosses you an apologetic look. Your shoulders slump.

You peer around and find a spot at the bottom of the stairs. You sit, relieved to finally have a moment of peace. Being around so many people at once is still a novelty. You lean against the wooden railings. Was coming here a mistake? You can’t help but wonder. You noted someone pulling a bottle of morphling earlier and Ivy swallowing a handful of pills. At this point, everyone has imbibed, indulged, or both.

The thrall of oblivion is often strong in the Capitol. Too many things need forgetting. Too many sins. Too many horrors.

In that moment, as laughter from the living room rings inside your ears, you feel acutely out of place.

“Sorry. I only have posca, wine or whiskey.”

You lift your head. Your eyes widen when you realize Livia Cardew’s standing in front of you. “Well. I swiped that last one from my dad’s stash,” she adds with a small giggle.

You shrug. “It’s fine.”

You’ve probably overstayed your welcome anyway. This isn’t your crowd. But Clemmie insisted and you had no idea how to refuse. How do you even refuse something you have painfully yearned for all these years?

Livia scrutinizes you for what seems an eternity before speaking again.

“He’ll throw you away once he’s done with you, you know?”

You blink, dismayed by her abrupt statement. “I’m sorry?”

She lets out a weary sigh, a look grazing sympathy flickering on her face. It vanishes quickly. Her mouth tightens.

“Snow,” she groans, frustration evident in her tone. “He doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself.” Your brows knit. “I’m just trying to warn you.” She chews on her bottom lip, seeming to hesitate before bending closer to whisper, “Just…watch out, okay?”

Stumped by her sudden display of concern, no word leaves your tongue. You fold your arms, shifting on the stairs. Can you even trust any word coming from Livia’s mouth? Without Clemmie’s interjection, you’re fairly sure you wouldn't have been allowed into her home. Ever since she met you, she’s considered you with such blatant disdain. As if you were a stain that won’t let itself be erased.

You struggle picturing her delivering helpful advice.

“Liv, I hope you’re not giving her a hard time again.”

You let your body sag, grateful for Clemmie’s impromptu appearance. You get to your feet. Livia whirls towards the brunette, feigning innocence. “I’m being a gracious host,” she chimes.

Clemmie’s gaze narrows.

All smiles again, she turns to you as Livia stomps away.

“Don’t worry about her.”

You nibble your bottom lip.

“Maybe it’s best if I head out.”

She frowns. “But you just got here.”

“I suppose…” Your mind scrambles for an excuse. You blurt out the first thing that springs inside your head. “I need to go feed Walter anyway.”

Curiosity fills her onyx stare.

“Walter? Who’s Walter?”

“My cat.”

Silence stretches for a long minute before she bursts out in uncontrollable laughter.

Hand draping over her mouth, the brunette says, “Is that your excuse? You need to go feed your cat?”

Heat rushes to your face. Said aloud, you concede it sounds silly. Akin to a lame, hasty excuse. While there are bits of truth in your response, you can’t deny you’re craving for a way out.

Clemmie cradles your face.

“The first time is always a bit awkward. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing, what is even going on…” She beams at you. “But you can’t back out. Not when you’re already here.”

You mull it over.

After all, wasn’t it what you wished for? Being seen, included. For years, longing twisted inside your chest while you watched your classmates form bonds and forge lifelong friendships. Meanwhile, you withered in a corner, making yourself smaller and smaller everyday. Clemmie has been nothing but kind. And Coriolanus…while his presence plucks at your nerves, you have to admit he’s been a gentleman so far. Offering to drive you home, carrying your books, and berating every guy who said something mean to you or brushed you off. No one’s ever stood up for you like that before.

Maybe you ought to try harder to fit in, be normal.

Giving a slow nod, you surrender.

“Alright. I guess I can stay a little longer.”

“You know what you need?” Her eyes twinkle. “Liquid courage.” She grabs two glasses of wine from the Avox maid’s tray. “Let’s just drink. To your first party. One of many, I hope.”

She tries to place one in your hand but you resist.

“Clemmie, I told you I don’t-”

“I know. I know…but don’t you want to mark the occasion?” She tilts her head sideways, sympathy etched on her pretty face. “Come on, do you want to be that girl who finishes Uni and hasn’t tried anything new? The girl who’s never taken a chance?” She holds your gaze, pressing the drink between your fingers. “Sad, alone, not a single experience to reminisce…Is this really what you want?”

“No, it’s not. You’re right,” you mutter, your fingers tightening around the glass.

“You came here to be someone else. So be someone else.”

Her words embolden you to take a large swig of the drink. When there’s still some of it left, she encourages you to finish it. Then, she nudges you to have another glass, sliding a tiny yellow pill inside your other hand.

You scowl down at your palm.

“What’s this?”

“Morphling extract. It’ll help you relax.”

You look at Clemmie. Excitement sways in her eyes.

You toss your head back and gulp down the pill. She congratulates you. It catches in your throat and you wash it down with more alcohol.

The effect is near instantaneous.

Your muscles uncoil, your fear melting away. Soft, fluffy clouds replace the foggy cluster of your thoughts. A pleasant buzz spreads through your veins.

“Come on, let’s join the others,” she says, seizing your hand and tugging you along.

You end up on the sofa, wedged between her and Coriolanus.

He drinks you in, a subtle smile blooming on his lips.

“You seem happy.”

“I am happy.”

Your sharp, immediate answer broadens his smile.

“What are you guys doing?” Clemmie asks.

Livia sighs. “It’s a stupid game we haven’t played since the Academy.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid. I like it,” Ivy protests. She grabs a bottle of posca and begins to pour some in everyone’s glass. “You take a drink when there’s something you haven’t done. Simple right?”

The game is indeed easy. It also makes you want to crawl inside a hole and never come out as the night gets further along. A myriad of questions is flung at the group. Each of them grows the well of embarrassment pitting in your stomach.

You’re forced to take a drink when Ivy asks who’s had sex, who has done it with more than one person, who has kissed a boy or girl.

Many times, you are the only one grabbing your glass, exposing your lack of experience to the entire group. You hear a stifled laugh somewhere besides you. Your face ignites.

You bolt upwards, shooting the group an apologetic look.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say.

You stumble away. However after just a few wobbly steps toward the exit, you keel over and almost collide with the marbled tiles.

A pair of strong arms slither around your waist, preventing your collapse.

“Are you alright, angel?” Coriolanus whispers against your temple.

You raise shaky fingers to your face, or what you think is your face. Your fingertips are like cotton, nothing beneath them feeling as it should.

Your brows crumple.

“I can’t feel my legs. I-I can’t feel my face.” Your mind swirls as you look up. The room bends off its axis around you. Panic rushes through you. “I have to go home.”

“I’ll take you then,” he says.

You shake your head. Even that tiny motion makes you want to puke.

You swallow the surge of bile in your throat.

“No. You should return to the party. I couldn’t, I can’t…”

Coriolanus’ brows furrow.

“I’m not letting you go home by yourself at this hour and in this state,” he says, practically carrying you out of Livia’s house as you slump against him.

“What about Clemmie?”

He smiles at you as you hobble alongside him.

“She can find her own way home.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 2 months

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There lived a certain man, a proconsul of Gaul He was lean and sharp and his head was almost bald Most people looked at him with envy and awe But to Cato, he thought himself above the law He had conquered Gaul and asked the Senate For a triumph through their town And to run for consul - he could win it But they said "Stand down."

Ra ra Julie C., Nicomedes' teenage fling There was a man who couldn't let go Ra ra Julie C., really wanted to be king It was a shame how he stole the show

He crossed the Rubicon, invaded his own home But the Pompeians had already fled from Rome With hardly any fights he captured Italy Though Spain and Greece didn't come so easily He got nearly slaughtered by Dyrrhachium And the next four years of strife But he won and had the Senate make him Dictator for life

Ra ra Julie C., Cleopatra's Roman fling There was a man who couldn't let go Ra ra Julie C., really wanted to be king It was a shame how he stole the show

But as his bogus elections and his hunger for power Became known to more and more people The conspiracy to assassinate This man became bigger and bigger

"This Caesar's gotta go," declared his enemies But a new war loomed and he'd soon go overseas No doubt this dictator was difficult to harm And within Rome's walls, they couldn't carry arms Then they thought, a meeting of the Senate Fit just right, for on the Ides He would be alone for just a minute And Caesar would die

Ra ra Julie C., every Roman woman's fling They had him cornered, took out their knives Ra ra Julie C., really wanted to be king He grabbed a pen and fought for his life Ra ra Julie C., emperor foreshadowing They didn't quit, they wanted his head Ra ra Julie C., Brutus jabbed his ding-a-ling And so they stabbed him till he was dead

Oh, those Romans…

#jlrrt speaks #poetry #really bad poetry #filk song?#idk the right term #julius caesar #ides of march #ra ra rasputin #just roman memes #parody #next time someone asks me why i like roman history i'm just gonna show them this

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uzurimisery · 5 months

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chapter 3: the exposition. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

rating: explicit

wc: 8,346

warnings: MDNI, rough sex, he's still insane and possessive, oral sex, not beta read AO3 version | Series Master

As the two of you left the party, sat in the back of his car, you could cut the tension with a knife. Both of you are so high-strung with desire that a simple touch would make you snap.

“Miss Gaul, will I be taking you home?” the driver was unaware of what was happening between you.

Coriolanus decided for you. “No worries, she’ll be staying with us at the Corso.”

A thrill ran through you. The thought of spending the night with him, acting on these feelings, finding release with him, made your skin tingle. And as the car pulled up near the Snow apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. The night was still so young.

He led you up to the top floor without an inappropriate touch. Afraid that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he’d take you in the elevator. You really should commend his restraint.

Once you were inside the foyer, he caught you looking around nervously, like you were afraid of being caught. Like someone would pop out and surprise you both as he led you to his bedroom’s attached sitting room.

You were so cute. “No one’s in tonight.” He closed the door. “It’s just us now.”

You were trapped in there now with him. You could try to run, but he’d always catch you.

The space between you dissolved, replaced by a mess of sensations; the scent of your perfume fills his senses, the rise and fall of your chest against him, the warmth of your body against his. He understood Morphling addiction now. The high of touching you was addicting.

Restraint lost, he grabbed your waist and kissed you. You opened your mouth almost immediately, letting him in. Before the morning broke, he would know every curve, every contour, every inch of you. And you would know the same of him.

He went back to attacking your neck with nips and kisses. You were so sensitive there, moaning and gasping. He needed more. Needed to watch you come undone. He had wanted to take it slow, build you up and tease you, but he needed you now.

Coriolanus grabbed your ass and picked you up, wrapping your legs around him instinctively, and he carried you into his room. It was clean and organised just like his office. A mix of old money and newer trends. It was all very him. Down to the white duvet he put you on in the centre of his king size bed.

You looked so perfect there. Finally, within his reach and willing to let him touch you. Your dress had slipped too, your left breast out for display, nipples pert with arousal.

He fiddled with the front clasp of your dress that connected the two parts, undoing it and letting it fall open, fully exposing you to him. You were so perfect it drove him insane. He watched you like a hawk as you shimmied the dress off, revealing that you had no underwear on underneath. The groan that escaped him was pained. It just wasn’t fair what you did to him.

Your smile beamed, mischief in your eyes. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

Coriolanus Snow had never gotten undressed so quickly in his life before. He climbed onto the bed and settled his hips against yours. Your mouth was so inviting to him, always welcoming him in. His position above you seemed so small, like he could pick you up and use you like a toy.

He leaned back, settling onto his knees. Fuck, you were everything he imagine you to be. He shifted, taking one breast in his mouth. His tongue swirled around it before biting it. Your moan only egged him on, making him pinch and pull at your other nipple.

You squeaked when he bit down hard; the sound going straight to his cock. The noises you made were better than any music he had ever heard before. You wiggled from his actions, jolting around from the pleasure, and he could feel your pussy against him. Soo wet already. You wanted him as badly as he wanted you. To tear each other apart.

He detached from your breast with a wet pop, giving a kiss to the abused nub, before trailing them down your stomach. His tongue dipped into your navel briefly, tasting the salt on your skin. When he finally reached the top of your pussy, he breathed in deeply. If he could bottle the scent, he would.

“You don’t have to.” Were you embarrassed? Afraid that he finds you disgusting?

“I want to.”

With that, he buried his face in you, licking from your hole to your clit. He watched your every reaction, felt your every twitch. He had always been above eating a woman out, finding it pointless. Sex was a means for him to get off. He didn’t care about his partners. But he wanted you to cum on his face and make a mess.

As he circled your clit, your hands flew into his hair, grinding your face against his tongue. He pressed his tongue hard and flat against you. The friction builds you up to an orgasm. He keeps going, increasing with a fervor, the need to make you cum the only thing he could think of, his hips rutting against his bed.

Your fingers tighter in his hair, pulling as you came. Broken moans of his name filling the room. He needed you to cum again. He needed it more than you need water in the desert. The only thing that could quench his thirst is the liquids leaking out of your tight hole.

Coriolanus kept lapping at your clit, ignoring your overstimulation. He didn’t give you a break, a moment to catch your breath. One hand tugged at your waist, pulling your core closer to him while the other circled your hole, teasing the entrance. You sobbed, mixed between telling him to stop and begging him to keep going. Truth be told, he couldn’t stop.

He slipped two fingers inside you. You were so wet, a mix of your cum and his spit, that he slid in so easily. It was so hot inside you. Moving his fingers around to experiment, trying to find your g-spot. He could tell the exact moment he brushed it, feeling your pussy flutter around him. He couldn’t wait to feel that on his cock.

Slowly he began pressing against it, passing over it every time his fingers thrust into you. Your thigh clamped down around his head. Even muffled, he could hear you singing so sweetly for him. Telling him you were so close.

When you came again, he gave you a moment to breathe. He wanted tonight to go on for a while. He couldn’t have you out of commission so early in the night. Your chest heaved, breathless from two back-to-back orgasms, sweat trailing between your breasts.

He licked it up.

Your voice broke as you spoke. “I, oh god Corio.” your eyes were wild and unguarded. He could see the admiration you had for him. The desire. “I need you.”

You were normally so steady and composed.

But the burning hunger that consumed him consumed you, too. The thoughts that had plagued him and made him sick, twisted in his belly, and kept him up at night. The voices of reason in his head lost to the overwhelming desire to have you.

He reached out, fingers tracing the contours of your face, and then parting your lips. His thumb brushed over your teeth, digging in against the tip of your canines. You closed your lips around his thumb. He felt your tongue run over it before you sucked on it.

Fuck you looked so good with it your mouth. He could picture his cock in your mouth, your lips stretched around him. The sensation of hitting the back of your throat was almost palpable. Later, tonight or tomorrow, he’d have you do just that.

“Sweet girl,” he crooned, kissing your face while putting a hand against your pussy again. “You’re so needy. So filthy.”

You gasped as he slipped back inside you, scissoring you, stretching you open. His thumb toying with your clit as he spoke.

“So fucking filthy, making a mess on me. God, you don’t even know what you’ve done to me. My head is a mess because of you, always thinking about you and your pretty pussy. It made me hate you. How am I supposed to be your friend when I just want to bend you over and fuck you until you can’t walk?”

He felt you tighten against his fingers.

“I want to kill every man that looks at you. They’re always thinking of you naked and how they’d like you just like this. But they don’t get to see that. No one gets to see this but me. Do you understand?”

You were so close, stars swimming in your vision. The edge was right there when Coriolanus stopped.

“I said, do you understand? Answer the question, sweet girl.”

The words flew out of your mouth. “I understand. Please, just don’t stop. I’m so close.”

He started back up again. This time he drilled his fingers against your g-spot, a pressuring building up in your abdomen. You were going to cum, and cum hard.

“Corio,” your broken moans making him go faster. “I’m gonna cum.”

“So cum for me.”

Everything in you snapped into place when you came, vision going black. A stream of liquid pouring out of you and onto him, splashing across his front. He had made you squirt. He had wanted to ruin you for other men, but he just ruined other women for himself. If you ever tried to run, tried to leave him, he would lock you up. He’d chain you to the post of the bed, break one of your legs, make you immobile. But you’d keep so well, always wearing the best clothing and eating the best food. It was making him crazy.

He grabbed your hair tightly, yanking your neck back for him to dig his teeth into you. He needed to hold you close, and to tear you fucking apart.

When he let go of your neck, bite marks that clearly defined his every tooth left. Marking you, displaying his ownership of you, he was drunk off it. The intensity of everything heightened. He was going to combust if he wasn’t inside you soon.

Grabbing his dick, he tapped the tip against your clit repeatedly, relishing in the way you whimpered and spasmed. He wanted to carve your pussy into a perfect mould of his cock. Alter you so permanently that he would always be a part of you.

He pushed the tip into you. You were so hot and wet, more than you had been earlier. It felt like you were melting around him. Your insides felt like the softest velvet against him. None of the finest fabrics could ever compare to it.

Your pussy fluttered around him as he pushed in down to the base. You were perfect, sucking him in.

Both of you watched the first few thrusts of his hips, mesmerised by him disappearing inside of you. You had had sex before; you were 24 and one of the most sought after bachelorettes in the Captiol, but you had never had anything like this. It felt like your body was intertwining with Coriolanus. Like he was replacing a part of yourself with him, letting you drink from his fountain.

Settling into a steady rhythm, Coriolanus shifts you both, putting your legs over his shoulders. The new angle had him brushing up against your cervix, a mix of pain and pleasure. When he leaned forward, folding you in half, your breath left your lungs. He was so deep inside you.

He moaned, continuing to thrust into you. “Such a perfect pussy. So good for me. So much better than I even imagined.”

“You’ve been thinking about me, Corio?”

You were so beautiful. Lashes wet with tears, hair sticking to your forehead from the sweat. Your big doe eyes peering up at him, looking at him with so much affection.

His thrusts slowed, becoming gentle taps rather than hard strikes.

“Yes,” he admitted, biting the inside of your thigh near his face. “I’ve been thinking about you constantly.

His words were heavy, something swimming beneath the surface, something intense. You looked down at his hands on your waist, thumbs caressing you. He had been flipping between extremes tonight. One moment he was a cannibal, ready to taste your flesh, and then the next he treated you like you were precious to him. Almost like he loved you.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” the sacrament of penance you took, and he your witness. “I’ve been thinking about you like this. What’d it’d be like.”

You were Eve, and he was Adam, the snake and the apple, the first sin and the atonement.

If Coriolanus could purr he would, the stroking of his ego acting like a balm for his temper. Instead, he bit down on your thigh again and picked up his speed, rutting into you like the animal he felt he was. The slap of his balls against your ass is his mating call.

He felt himself getting close, months of emotion getting to him, bringing him release quicker than normal. Coupled with how tight you felt in this position, he knew he wouldn’t last long. So he took to driving into you and grabbing your face to kiss you. He needed to cum, but he also needed to feel you cum on his cock. The decision was hard to make. He didn’t want to stop pounding into you and risk losing his edge.

It’d be fine. He didn’t have to rush everything and get it all done this round. You didn’t know it yet, but he’d be taking you for many, many, many rounds.

You had expected Coriolanus to be cold and cynical when it came to sex, hating any mess that came with it. You had expected him to pull out and cum on you and force you to clean it up. But when his hips stuttered and warmth filled you, you were surprised.

“Fuck.” he thrust into you a few more times before pulling out, breathless. “Fuck.” he repeated.

It was so warm in the room. You were sweaty, a mix of both his and yours. Your head felt fuzzy from cumming so many times. Blinking hard to stay awake.

Coriolanus nudged your face, making you focus on him, before he picked you up and carried you over to his ensuite.

It screamed luxury and opulence, a show of what he had done after being heir to the Plinth fortune. The walls had mosaics in them depicting bits of ancient history. The floors were laid with polished marble times. A massive tub, carved from a single block, stood centre stage, overlooking a window with a view of the Corso with a few chairs near it. A thick rug sat at its feet, the plush pile just asking you to step on it.

In the far corner, there was a walk-in shower with a number of showerheads. The vanity was across from it, cut from the same marble as the floors. A floor-length mirror tucked next to it. You could see the entrance to his dressing room through the reflection.

He set you down on the chair near the tub and then pressed a few buttons on the wall panel and the tub filled; the water rained in from the top. The vanity had a collection of soaps and bath salts he went between before selecting some and putting them in the bottom of the tub. “It’s magnesium. It’ll help your muscles.”

You nodded, unsure what to say first to him. He was lost on what to say too, just letting the soft patter of water hitting the tub fill the silence. It was a comforting scene, a domestic moment in the backdrop of your mess of emotions.

The steam swirled in the air, fogging the mirrors as you watched him mix the salts into the water. He moved with practised ease, like this act of self care was something he gave himself often.

When the tub was full, nearly to the brim, Coriolanus turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and care. You wouldn’t disillusion yourself into thinking that he loved you. Coriolanus Snow didn’t love people. He used them. You knew this; he knew this. The only people that didn’t were the rest of high society. Minus your mother. She liked that side of him.

She had told you all about what he did with Sejanus, how he turned on his friend of years. You didn’t quite understand why people thought they were friends; clear to you that Coriolanus wanted to harm Sejanus every time he was around. But Sejanus was rich, so he acted like he cared.

“It’s ready,” his voice was calm, rolling over you, soothing a level of anxiety.

You nodded, afraid to speak, but you wanted to show him you appreciate his efforts. So you smiled, hoping that it communicated everything that you felt while he picked you up and slid you into the tub.

He stood beside the tub. There was something on the verge of coming out, but he didn’t know what. Maybe he was going to tell you how beautiful he found you, how you’ve grown on him, how you're someone he views as a person now and not a pawn. But he was afraid of breaking the spell.

“Join me?” He nodded and got into the tub behind you, the warm water enveloping you both.

Settled between his legs, you leaned back against his chest. You closed your eyes, letting the warm waters soothe you.

Coriolanus couldn’t believe that he finally had the chance to sleep with you. He had been thinking about it for months and now he finally had. The breaking out of the role proved worth it. He had half hoped that the feeling of needing you would go away, that he could go back to how things used to be before the whole charade started. But you fit so perfectly against him. How far would the act go? Would your mother one day tell him the show was over and to leave you alone? He doubted it.

She would be more likely to let him take you for real, all to see what kind of mind a child between you would have. She’d mould you into the perfect partner for him, a perfect mother for your son. That’d be one way to keep you forever. You were attached to your familial bonds. A baby would be the epitome of that.

He felt you shift, eyes snapping to meet your own.

You had opened your eyes, meeting Coriolanus’s gaze. Tonight was a turning point. Everything between you was new, raw and red, a fresh cut, bleeding freely.

Without saying a word, you leaned in and kissed Coriolanus. His lips were soft and warm. It held him as you turned to face him, water sloshing out the sides of the tub. Your hands grabbed his face, giving you stability, as his hand found the underside of your ass.

The kiss deepened, and your bodies pressed closer together. He was hard again. His erection bobbing against your thigh.

You smirked. “Want to go another round?”

You were out of the bath and back on his bed, bouncing on his dick within minutes.

_____________

The ache between your legs woke you up, the sunlight streaming in from the massive windows of Coriolanus’ room. He was asleep beside you, one hand resting on his chest. He looked so serene, like this, so harmless. You couldn’t help but stare at him. He looked so different from the man you had first met.

You had seen him on the Academy’s campus throughout the years, always so composed and covered. His every action was calculated and shrewd. The question of how no one else could pick up on that besides you was never answered. He was self-imposed, only ever really caring about himself and his family.

Of course, you had witnessed everything with Lucy Gray, being in the lab when he sent the jabber-jay to your mother that condemned Sejanus to death. You had been there when your mother received him back in the Capitol and informed him he’d be studying under her. That was probably why he didn’t like you for the longest time. You were born lucky, a future laid out for you. Similarly to Sejanus, you had someone to get you out of trouble, too. You just didn’t push the envelope like Sejanus had.

The times had changed though, and now the two of you were friends. Friends with great sexual chemistry, it seemed. But you had seen behind the mask the darkness inside him, overshadowing something else. Compassion maybe? It was hard to say.

The question of how last night would impact things still hung in the air while he slept peacefully next to you. As much as you would have liked to keep watching him sleep, continuing your internal monologue on what made you anxious over the future, you were hungry.

So you slipped out of the bed, grabbed his button-up shirt from last night and ventured out of the room in search of the kitchen after washing your face, thankful he had a whole skincare routine for you to use. The smell of the coffee you made was a welcomed distraction and very much needed. The silence of the penthouse was off. Your own house is filled with background noise, be it your father hosting guests, or the radio he always keeps on playing.

You couldn’t deny the attraction you had to Coriolanus. Last night was better than you had imagined. But you also knew how dangerous it was moving forward. You risked getting lost in the passion of it all and thus losing sight of the reality of the situation. Whatever growing feelings you had for him, there was no way he returned them. Coriolanus didn’t feel things for people besides contempt.

How would the two of you go forward? Would sleeping together be a one off? A fluke? Or would it be something the two of you would do whenever you felt like it? You hoped it was the latter. You didn’t think you could get back to just getting off on thoughts of him. It was better to get off on him.

As you sipped on your coffee, the remnants of Copriolanus’ cologne on his shirt, you decided to roll with the tide. Only time could tell what was going to happen between you now.

__________

Coriolanus normally woke up with a start. A jump into an ice bath, a shock to his senses. A habit left over from the war. He never woke slowly and gently, his senses warming up rather than being turned on blast. It made him feel disoriented.

But he was doing just that, rubbing his eyes and looking for you. The side of the bed you had fallen asleep on cold to the touch.

A spark of paranoia lighting in him. Did you run away too? You weren’t allowed to do that. Even if you ran, your mother would hand you back to him with a smile.

“Y/N?” he called out, getting up and putting on his boxer briefs. His shirt was missing, as was your dress.

He padded across the wooden floors, warmed by underfloor heating, going into the bathroom first. His mind was racing, searching for an explanation for your absence rather than you having run from him. The beating of his heart picking up with every moment. Looking over every corner of the room and still not finding you.

So he went into the dressing room. Maybe you were looking for something to wear? But you weren’t there either.

A rage built in him. How dare you run away from him, escape from his grasp, to leave without a word? Did you think you could get away with it, humiliating him like this? Frustration gnawed at him, chewing on his bones like a sick mutt with a bone. You were so stupid. Surely you knew you’d see him later today. You had a press event for the upcoming games to attend. The both of you scheduled to be interviewed by Lucky Flickerman about your work and your relationship.

“Breathe Coriolanus.” he reminded himself, focusing on finding you. What he did when he did is yet to be determined. Maybe he’d embarrass you live on TV.

Leaving the dressing room, he moved into his sitting room. You weren’t there either. But he could smell something. Coffee, freshly made, still hanging in the air.

There you were, sat in the kitchen on the counter staring out of the window defenceless. You were just in his button up, hanging off your shoulder.

“You should have woken me.” you jumped, apparently too lost in your own head to hear him walk into the room. You smiled when you looked at him.

“You looked peaceful. Didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

It was interesting you hadn’t left. It showed him you wanted to be around him, to share space with him. Your feet swung lightly as you sat there, sipping your coffee. “Do you want a cup?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replied, rigid as he stood there, eyes fixated on you.

“Suit yourself.” You shrugged. His loss, really. The coffee was wonderful.

“I’ve been thinking about our press event later.”

“Oh yes! Tigris told me she had made something for the both of us to wear. Something about looking like a unified front.”

You were acting like everything was normal, like he hadn’t made you scream his night last night till your voice was nothing but a whisper. He was still reeling from it. Were you moving on from it entirely? Unphased by it all?

He hummed. “I’m sure whatever it is will be fine.” Tigris was good at what she did.

You began rambling about the press event, what you thought you should do. How you wanted to divvy up talking points. So business focused. He admired that part of you, your ability to compartmentalise and focus on the important things. But he wanted to talk about what had transpired between you, his hunger for you not satisfied.

You, sitting there in his shirt, in his kitchen, drinking his coffee. Hair messily pulled away from your face, bare of any makeup. You were cute like this. It makes you look younger. Less like the imposing figure you really were.

He could still feel your mouth against him as you moaned into it. He wanted to feel it again. To crash against you like the waves did.

“Corio, are you listening?” you snapped at him, trying to get his attention.

The question was like a hot coal in his mouth. “Did you enjoy last night?”

“I did.” you look shocked he asked, like you expected him to never mention it again, putting your coffee down out of the way. “It was good.”

“How good?”

“Good enough.” He didn’t like where this was going. “That I’d do it again. If you want to.” That was the answer he wanted to hear.

He moved towards you, settling in between your legs with his hands on the counter, trapping you between his arms. The air between you two cracking with electricity. “Good.”

“Good.”

It wasn’t clear which one of you made the first move, but you met in the middle, drawn together like magnets. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands once again in his hair. If you didn’t make it clear enough last night that you liked his hair, it was transparent in the morning light.

He snuck his hands under your shirt, his shirt, and tugged you closer by the waist, deepening the kiss. His tongue danced against yours, both of you trying to find dominance in the kiss. But he didn’t play fair, and he picked up you, grinding his growing erection into your exposed pussy. The fabric of his boxers rubbing hard against your already sensitive clit. You moaned, losing the battle.

“Take me to your room.”

______________

Tigris looked surprised when the two of you showed up at her shop together. She expected you each to arrive alone and at different times, Coriolanus had never bothered accepting the joint invitation. Your face flushed, a slight sheen to it, and he was brooding like he normally was.

But she knew not to question her cousin, afraid of his reaction and temper. She was more surprised when she took you into a dressing room and found a wealth of hickies dotting your chest and neck.

“Well,” she spoke. “This complicates what I had in mind for you today.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that. “Trust me, I was just as shocked as you were.” It was 50/50 on how shocking it was. Coriolanus had always been possessive. These marks a manifestation of it, but it was shocking he felt possessive of you.”

“It’s fine. I made something else in case you didn’t want to wear a gown. You had said before that you were more of a pants person.” She went into the attached room to pull pieces for you to wear.

Tigris returned with a black two-piece pantsuit set. The blazer had a piece of red silk that was pinned over the right shoulder that flowed down the back, beyond the length of the blazer, and pinned to the left hip of the piece, crossing over the front. The end of it pulled through the pinning to make it hang parallel to the back part of it.

“Tigris is incredible!” your hands itched to put it on, knowing full well you’d have to wait for the hair and makeup team to get here first.

“Thank you,” she smiled, pleased with your reaction. “I thought you might like it. Corio’s getting something similar. I think you should wear a turtleneck today, though. Given the hickies.”

“Good idea.”

Curiosity got the best of Tigris. “Will Corio be needing one as well?”

“Yes.”

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Obviously she had known you’d slept with your share of Capitol’s men, but Coriolanus? Sleeping together as you implied by that statement meant things had become more serious that she thought. Weren’t the two of you only supposed to be acting as lovers, not being them? Though she corrected herself, Corio didn’t know how to love anymore. Whatever had happened in 12 had changed him, and that scared her. She could hardly recognise the boy she raised.

She is worried about you. Tigris knew you were strong and highly analytical. But Coriolanus was a dark man, willing to use even her to get what he wanted. His own flesh and blood. He was capable of great cruelty and she worried you’d get hurt in the end. She liked you too, considered you her friend.

Tigris needed to speak to Coriolanus. Hair and makeup would be there in a moment, the cares having just pulled in up front, so she could let them in and then go get her cousin ready.

“That’s hair and makeup,” you noticed a shift in her demeanour. “I’ll let them in and then go get Corio ready. See you soon.”

After she let the crew in and directed them to you, she went into the room assigned to Coriolanus. He was scrolling through a communicuff, no doubt plotting something.

“Corio,” she began, voice low and steady, “I need to talk to you.’

Coriolanus looked up from the communicuff, the haunting lack of emotion in his eyes scaring her. “What is it, Tigris?” His voice was cold and detached.

He used to be so kind, so sweet. She had seen so much good in him. But he got close to your mother, and he changed. He went to 13 still her Corio and came back as someone else. Someone cruel and manipulative, a user.

“I’m worried,” she was fearful of his reaction, but Tigris had to try, her voice trembling slightly. “Y/N isn’t someone you can mess with. She’s not a pawn in your games.I won’t let you hurt her.”

Hurt you? Sure, Coriolanus thought about hurting you, but it was becoming less and less. Plus, now he knew if he told you want to do, with an explanation of his reasoning and why, you’d agree. You both were the same, always playing a front and dissecting people. He didn’t know how Tigris didn’t see that about you. That you, though you avoided the violent extremes he’d taken, were sides of the same coin.

Dr. Gaul was right every time she called you the best actor the world will ever know.

“You think I could hurt Y/N?”

“You’ve hurt people.”

He’s annoyed now. “Y/N Gaul, daughter of my mentor who holds my entire future in her hands. Yes, let me just ruin any respect she has for me and hurt her daughter and throw my life away.” The last time someone had hurt you, they had their fingers melted down to the bone and were “relocated” to District 11.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you think me stupid?”

“No.” Tigris’ voice a whimper.

“Then you shouldn’t know that I would never hurt her. She’s useful. Dr. Gaul has been preparing her to be my right hand when I become head gamemaker. She’s just as bad as me, you know?”

There was no arguing with him, Tigris knew this.

“Do you love her?” So many questions from Tigris today.

Did he love you? No. Did he like you? Yes. Coriolanus was not a lover, the only thing he loved was power. But he liked you. You were just as ambitious as him, and you were smart. The near year the two of you had been working together proved that, and then the past 10 months in your “relationship” had only earned you more of his respect. You knew exactly how to meet his needs and make every interaction benefit him.

Now there was the added benefit of him being able to fuck you like he wanted. Just like you wanted to. “No, I don’t love her. I like her though. She’s a friend.”

“A friend?”

“A friend.”

“Friends don’t do the things the two of you do Corio.” he wouldn’t know. You were his first friend. “And besides, love doesn’t have to be a weakness, it can be a strength.”

Coriolanus laughed, a harsh sound in the room. “You’re a dreamer, Tigris,” he spoke. |An idealist unable to let go of naivety.”

She shoved his matching suit into his arms, the turtleneck on top. “I know someone has hurt you, Corio, no matter how much you deny whatever happened to you in 12, it’s clear to me.” Tigris was angry now. “But you can’t let that hurt poison your heart.”

He smiled, taking the clothes. “Thanks for the advice.” His sarcasm cutting.

______________________

“Ladies and Gentleman welcome back to the lead up to the 16th Hunger Games!” Lucretius Flickerman knew how to get the crowd going. The small arena filled with Capitol citizens all excited to be there and watch him interview Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Gaul. “We’re a month and half away from 24 tributes joining us here in the Capitol before they go off to the arena.”

The cheers rang through the hall.

“Tonight we celebrate our gamemakers and the wonderful work that they do. Led by Dr. Gaul, the games have only gotten better and better, and she credits her protégé, the one, the only, the young Coriolanus Snow!” That was Coriolanus’ queue to come out on the stage. “You all know him and we all love him!”

Action.

He threw his hand up, waving to the crowd and camera, smiling widely. Like he was the happiest he’s ever been to be out on the stage. He enjoyed the people screaming his name, his status above them. The frenzy of fans is a deafening crescendo.

With a flourish, he bowed deep and dramatically, then moved to take his seat.

They set the chairs up on a raised platform in the centre of the stage. A small table between them. Lucretius’ side had one chair, while his and yours had two. Behind them was a wall of screens, no doubt for pulling up clips and design schematics from the past games pods.

“Thank you Lucreatius,” his smile never slipping. “And thank you all for being here tonight, and to those of you watching from home. It is always such an honour to be here on this show, to share my work, and to bring you all the most thrilling Hunger Games.”

The crowd roared, the lights of flash photos being taken. He relished in their energy and their enthusiasm.

“I must also extend my deepest gratitude to Dr. Gaul,” a sombre note always played well. “Her guidance and expertise are invaluable in crafting these games we all love.”

Dr. Gaul was in the audience, her face prideful. She didn’t care about the praise, but that people stayed interested in the games.

“And what games they are! Every time I think they can’t get any better, they always do.” Lucretius gave time for the crowd’s cheers before speaking again. “Now your tutelage under Dr. Gaul has always gotten the attention of the Captiol. I mean, how could it not? But there’s another Gaul you’ve been spending a lot of time with.”

Lucretius’ words hung in the air, heavy with implications. The crowd watching with bated breath, curiosity piqued. Even though the two of you had been to many high society events together, there was a large percentage of the Capitol that wasn’t high society.

The screens behind the two switch to a collection of images of Coriolanus and you together. One outside the lab where he was escorting you out of your car. The second the two of you at another gala. He was smiling at you in this one as you were on his arm, smiling back up at him. The third was the two of you kissing on the steps of the president’s mansion. That one staged perfectly for the paparazzi. The last photo was you hidden away in the corner of a restaurant, his hand on your thigh while you kissed. This was the most provocative of them, with his hand being on your bare skin.

Coriolanus laughed. “Now, how’d you get all these?” They both knew that those photos were handpicked.

“A good host never reveals their sources, Mr. Snow.” Lucretius teased. “Now those looks, stolen glances, the way you touch each other, the not so public displays of affection, and not to mention the clandestine rendezvous…it’s clear there’s something special there isn’t there?” The crowd oohed.

He looked down at his shoes, trying to play bashful. “There is, yes.” he put a hand up to his face like he was trying to cover for him blushing. “She’s what keeps me going when the going gets tough. She’s my strength.”

You were more of a distraction to him than anything else, messing up his train of thought. No matter what he was doing, his thought came back to you. But every word he spoke carefully chosen, writing the story of a devoted lover, a man utterly in love with you. And the crow lapped it up, a golden couple growing as every second passed.

“Well Mr. Snow, how about we reunite you with your lady love?” Lucretius stood throwing an arm to the side stage, motioning for you. “Ladies and gentlemen let’s welcome Miss Y/N Gaul!”

Coriolanus hadn’t seen you since you had entered Tigris’ shop. It shocked him when you walked out wearing nearly the same thing as him. Your version was slightly more opulent, the silk much longer than his own. It was an impressive display of unity and purpose. Your every step measured and graceful, your shoulders back with confidence. Your hair was interesting today, half up and half down. The back half was pin straight and shiny while they divided the top half down the middle and put into two braids that were there circled up and laid flat against your head. Your make up was the usual cat eye eyeliner and red lipstick the same shade as the silk on your blazer.

You had done the same as him when entering, raising a hand and waving. But instead of making your way to the seats you inched towards the front of the stage, bending down and touching the hands of the kids lining the front, blowing kisses at them before making your way to the stage and hugging Flickerman before sitting down next to Coriolanus and holding his hand as you sat.

You were far better than him at working a crowd. It went against his persona to be so personal and sociable.

“Thank you for joining us here tonight, Miss Gaul.”

“Oh please Lucretius, just call me Y/N.”

“Well, who am I to deny the woman!” He laughed, leaning forward, arms wide, before crossing his legs, an ankle on his knee. “Now, Y/N, as you just saw, we’re talking about your relationship with Mr. Snow here. Tell me, when did the two of you first notice sparks?”

You hummed. “How cheesy am I allowed to be?” The crowd laughed.

“As cheesy as you can. I think I speak for everyone when I say that I want to know every juicy detail.”

“Well,” you started squeezing Coriolanus’ hand. “We have sort of always known each other, having gone to the Academy, but it wasn’t really until the lead up of the last games that we ever spoke.”

A hush fell over the crowd as you paused, letting the moment linger, your eyes sparkling. “They paired us to work on something, I don’t even remember what, but there was a night where everyone else had left the lab and it was just the two of us. My family car was tied up and so he offered to walk me home.”

The crowd gasped, imaginations running wild. Your smile widened. Seizing the moment, Coriolanus pulled your hand up to him, giving it a kiss before setting it down. “It was a beautiful night,” your tone dreamy. “The stars were out in full force and when we got to my family estate, we sat on the steps and talked for hours, just really getting to know each other.”

The two of you locked eyes, smiling. You were always so pretty when you lied about this, posing cutely, biting your lip like you were shy. “And that’s when I realised it.” Your voice was soft, like it was a confession only for Coriolanus to hear. “Realised that there was something special between us.”

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause, cheers echoing in the space. Your mother looked pleased with the performance so far. Everyone loved a good love story, and this was the perfect front of one.

“Your turn Mr. Snow.”

“I must confess, Mr. Flickerman. Ever since I laid eyes on her, it was like she was a magnet. She was also so calm and composed at the lab. Her beauty intimidated me and her mind. She’s always so eager to learn and explore new ideas.”

Everyone in the room was eating this up.

“But it was her compassion,” Corilanus continued, softening up his delivery. “That’s what truly won me over. She has a heart of gold, always going the extra mile for the people of Panem. And it was when I saw her at the university library reading to a group of children impacted by those vile rebel attacks that I fell for her.”

A murmur of agreement swept over the crowd. They knew you for being daring, independent, and breaking out of the mould of a traditional Captiol woman. There wasn’t anyone who could truly tell you what to do, except your mother, but she was hardly involved.

But they also knew you for how kind you were to the citizens of Panem. You never had a bad word to say about anyone. At least in public. Coriolanus had now become your go to for complaining about the people that were around.

“She’s not only a brilliant game maker,” he declared, full of pride. “She’s an exceptional human being. I am honoured to call her the love of my life.”

The volume of the crowd had to be peaking the mics of the television stream as Coriolanus stood up, grabbing you and spinning you around before placing you down with a kiss. You had practised the move a few times, ensuring that it’d be perfect for display and it was.

Your story is a tale of two brilliant minds drawn together by shared passion. But when the cameras were off, what the two of you were was messy. It felt easier to say his admiration of you like this than when you were alone. The display and act gives him an excuse to praise you.

“So, what does the future hold for you two, Mr. Snow and Miss Gaul?” Lucretius inquired mischievously. “Will we witness a grand proposal, a lavish wedding, a brood of adorable children? The possibilities are endless!”

Coriolanus had never really thought about a future with you, beyond one where he possessed you. He had never thought of one that still was this loving act you two had in public. But he could see that clearly in his mind. You, standing by his side, while taking his inauguration photos. on the steps of the presidential mansion. The third year of his term you’d have a baby, and his state of the union address would revolve on making Panem a better place for children. The baby, a boy obviously, would have your curls but his blonde hair. He’d prefer if your son had your eyes. They were better than his own.

Your little family would be the pride of Panem, and every child you had after a testament to how strong the Capitol was. There’d be a minimum of three. Two boys and a girl. He’d go as far as four, but three was the ideal number.

He spoke before he could stop himself. “That’s the plan.”

Lucretius’ grin widened. “Well, well, well,” anticipation dripped from his voice, “it seems we’ve just gotten the biggest scoop of the season.”

Coriolanus Snow just made a mistake. He wasn’t meant to answer like that. He was supposed to play it off, say that you were too young to be thinking about that. That the two of you were inseparable, and it’d be something you talked about when you got there. This admission of his own personal feelings.

That he’d be perfectly content with the act never ending and forever having you be a part of his life. To make you his co-conspirator.

“Oh Corio…” god you were good. You drew your hands to your face, tears dotting your lash line. The perfect image of a woman hearing that her partner wants to marry her. You knew he was so off script here, so you had to assist him.

The crowd swooned, hearts captivated by the tender exchange. It was a confirmation of your unwavering love in front of them all.

Coriolanus was caught off by his own fumble and then your reaction. If he could pretend that for just a moment you actually felt that way, his stomach wouldn’t be turning.

“I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that,” his confession is truthful on all fronts. “But it’s true. I can’t imagine a life without you, Y/N.”

“I can’t picture it either.”

How far should he take this? Dr. Gaul had an eyebrow raised, giving him no hint of what to do. You were just responding to whatever he did right now. Should he propose, here and now, on the stage in front of a crow of thousands, on broadcast for millions? It made for great press, made him look so human. A man so full of love he can’t stop himself from ruining a surprise.

He could, in fact, he should. An engagement made his claim on you that much more real. Maybe he could even convince Dr. Gaul to tell you to marry him. Then he’d have you. Now and always.

Coriolanus dropped to a knee in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Y/N,” the payoff if this went well was going to be so worth you being upset with him after.

“You are the light of my life, guiding me home when the night is darkest. You inspire me to be a better game maker, and a better man. These past months have been the best of my life. You’ve shown me what love can truly be.”

You sniffled, and he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe your tears.

“I meant to take my time with this. I don’t even have the ring on me, but I have one. You make me rush into things.” Now that was true. He’d become incredibly rash about you.

“So, Y/N Gaul, will you do me the incredible honour of being my wife?”

“Yes,” your smile blinded him. He really wanted this to be your honest reaction to him proposing. That you wanted to be owned by him, and he was owned by you. “Oh, my god, yes!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, our two capitol sweethearts, the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Snow!”

This was not how things were meant to go.

“Now let’s get Dr. Gaul up here to tell you all about the pods from the last game.”

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