#jealous!coriolanus

[saturnville]

snow lands on top.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x linnea lowtower warnings: fluff. jealous!coriolanus. allusions to sex. possessiveness. 18+ steam. content: linnea and coriolanus attend a gala in the capitol where she becomes the center of attention, and coriolanus is not pleased with it. feedback is appreciated 🤍

Galas were frequent occurrences in the Capitol. The wealthy and elite sought after ways to flaunt the money that burned their pockets like the arrogant creatures they were. Most of them being the parents of students who attended the Academy. The most recent Gala was to celebrate the Fetsus’ parents on their new partnership with the University. Coriolanus could see through the nonsense like glass cleaner. They bought their son’s way into college. Even a child could see through it.

Regardless, it allowed the students of the Academy to experience such luxury and nauseating arrogance firsthand. A clear example of what their lives were destined to be like. However, unlike them, Coriolanus’ future wasn’t set in stone. Still, he scrambled for food and clothing—speaking of, he hoped no one would notice that the suit he wore was crafted by Tigris’ slender fingers. It was beautiful, but he knew Capitol kids; they were attentive and worked overtime to find something wrong with the next person.

Coriolanus pushed his thoughts to the side as he entered the home. The Creeds had outdone themselves. Music played on overhead speakers as servers waltzed the marble floors carrying drinks and food upon their shoulders. A plate with a slice of chocolate cake caught his eye. In one corner, he saw a group of young women pointing at a girl for her choice of dress, and in another, a group of guys deciding which girl they were trying to take home. Coriolanus’ lip twitched.

Coriolanus prepared to walk toward his friends but was stopped by an arm linking itself with his. He looked to his left and his eyes met hers. She brought her lips to his ear to whisper, “You’ve got to learn how to manage your facial expressions.” His features softened and he smiled.

“I’ll let you teach me,” he said while leading them toward their classmates who were downing flukes of champagne like it was water. He wondered how they would make it to lecture in the morning.

“Coryo, Linnea! Did you get here at the same time?” Clemensia asked with a tilted head. Linnea removed her arm from his and shook her head. Coriolanus fought the urge to frown.

“I got here a few minutes ago. Grabbed him when I was walking by. Oh—“ Linnea grabbed a fluke of champagne from a waiter’s tray and downed it in seconds, which earned a few cheers from the group.

“You came right on time. Cause they—“ Livia pointed at a group of guys behind them. Coriolanus’ eyes followed her finger. Disgust settled within him. Another group of obnoxious Capitol boys who couldn’t tell East from West but managed to have almost every Academy girl on her knees. Except for Linnea, God, he prayed it was never Linnea. “They’ve been looking over here all night. Let’s go!”

Linnea had no time to protest before she was whisked away by Livia and Clemensia. Her eyes caught his and seemed to whisper an apology only he understood. A hand dropped on Coriolanus’ shoulder. Festus and Sejanus. “And then there were three.”

Coriolanus did not want to make it obvious that he sought Linnea like a hawk while she interacted with the group of men. It was a sickening sight to see. She seemed happy with them and he hated her. Her full, red lips were peeled back and her beautiful smile was on display. She even laughed at their jokes. It wasn’t a soft giggle, either. No, it was a laugh that bellowed deep from her being. What could those morons have said that was so funny? The icing on the cake was when one of them touched her waist. His nasty fingers danced along the small of her back like they belonged there. She flinched and pulled away. Coriolanus’ nostrils flared in distaste.

Linnea backed away from the man in attempts to keep his hands away from her, but, in a drunken haste, he proceed with his advances. Livia and Clemensia were in lala land with the jocks and hadn’t noticed. But, Coriolanus did. In the blink of an eye, he stood behind Linnea and pulled her back by her waist. His hand planted firmly on her hip, his thumb close to the seam of where her underwear sat beneath her dress. It was an act of of possession. She could feel his heavy breaths against the crown of her head. “Is there a problem?”

The handsy individual went by the name of Fabio. His parents were of the highest class in the Capitol and his reputation as an asshole proceeded him. Fabio jokingly raised his hands in faux surrender, muttered an apology, and walked away.

“Are you okay?” Coriolanus asked. Linnea turned in his arms and nodded. “I’m fine. I want to leave…my parents are gone for the weekend.”

Music to his ears. Linnea stepped aside to speak with Clemensia and Livia. “I’m not feeling well. Coriolanus will escort me home.” They bid their farewells and Linnea and Corniolanus exited the Creed home swiftly, escorted to a car by the valet service.

The ride to the Lowtower residence was tense. Coriolanus couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in his head. Had she really enjoyed their company? What so fucking funny, and how did that idiot think he could touch her? Nobody could touch her.

Linnea noticed his demeanor but chose not to acknowledge it until they entered her bedroom and the door closed with the lock of the door. Coriolanus unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat on the edge of her bed. His eyes were glued to her as she floated to her vanity, where she began plucking off her jewels one by one. Her dainty fingers pushed her locs away from her ears to unclamp her earrings. She slid off her bracelets one by one.

“Will you take my necklace off please?” She looked over her shoulder at her lover. He stood to his feet and grounded himself behind her. He moved her hair to the side and ran her finger along her shoulder blade. She shivered. His fingertips danced along her neck and the hairs there stood at attention. With one pluck, the necklace slid down the valley of her breasts and into the deep cup of her dress. It was beautiful—made by Capitol designers. A bright red gown covered in sparkles. A slit down the right side and a heart-shaped neckline that plunged just beneath her breasts.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” Coriolanus said lowly. His warm breath fanned her ear. Linnea’s breathing became heavy as she leaned into his embrace. He lowered his head to bring his lips to her neck. Brown and warm. Slowly, he unzipped the dress that covered all his eyes burned to see. It slipped down her waist and fell at her feet. The necklace landed on top.

“Thank you,” she managed to muster.

“It seems I wasn’t the only one who thought so, hm?”

“Coryo…” She had a feeling she knew where he was headed. “They were just being friendly.”

Coriolanus gave a dissatisfied chuckle. Friendly his ass. He was a guy, he knew how they operated. Fabio looked at his girl like he was ready to eat her alive! He wouldn’t stand for her it. And then when he touched her? It ignited a fire deep within his loins.

“Yeah…I didn’t like it. They’ve wanted you for a while, did you know that? Talk about you in the hallways, in the restrooms, wondering what it’d be like to have you pressed against them…to touch you…to hear you cry out…to take yet another thing away from me.” His thumb hooked in the band of her lace underwear and he pulled it back with a pop. Linnea cried out his name and gripped the edge of the vanity. “Take them off.”

Linnea stepped out of her underwear and kicked them to the side. Coriolanus drank in their reflection, drunk off the sight of her bare body on display. Her eyes were closed and her head rest on her shoulder, chest heaving in anticipation of his next move. He could smell her arousal as her body warmed.

“I can take you right here. Mark up that pretty little body of yours and let everyone know you’re mine…” His tongue grazed her neck and he bit it softly. Linnea moaned lowly. His hand cupped her chin and forced her to meet his cold eyes in the mirror. “And that Snow always lands on top.”

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Angst factor for this is thru the roof! And guess what? It's a series! I'm thinking this is going to have at least 3 parts. Masterlist

Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), eventual smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker! Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC.

Chapter 1:

“I'm going home, find some other dumb whore to fuck.” You spat, flipping the blankets off your body and making to get out of the platinum blonde’s bed.

“Darling, don't be rash. Come back to bed.” Coriolanus told you, reaching his long arm out and wrapping his large hand around your wrist before you could truly move away from the bed.

“Come back to bed after you just told me that you're going to marry Livia Cardew?!” You screamed at him, feeling like you wanted to yank his pretty platinum blond curls right out of his head. “Are you nuts, Coriolanus?”

The man, whose beauty rivaled that of the Roman and Greek gods, narrowed his baby blues at you. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he told you, “Stop overreacting, darling. It's an arranged marriage that doesn't mean anything.”

You arched a brow and tilted your head at him. “Oh, so that's supposed to make me feel better? Make everything okay?” You sarcastically asked, yanking your arm out of his grasp and flying out of his bed.

His king sized bed with the luxurious crimson satin sheets that you'll never inhabit again.

“Y/N-” Coriolanus began, only for you to loudly cut him off with a shriek of, “Don't, Coriolanus. Don't say a fucking word to me.” Shaking your head, you ironically scoffed, “I should've seen this coming. After all these years of sneaking around with you, I should've known that you'd pick some rich bitch to marry and have a family with.” Gathering your clothes, that were scattered all over the room, you heartbrokenly spat, “Not your poor neighbor girl that's only good for a good fuck whenever you're bored or need to get some pent up aggression out.”

“You're not-” Coriolanus began, icy blue eyes softening with an unchecked emotion (perhaps guilt?), as he watched you toss your things on the white rose upholstered bench at the foot of his bed.

“I love you, Coriolanus.” You softly sighed, barely loud enough for him to hear, while tossing your ruined lace panties at him. What use were the lacey things all torn to shreds?

Not much.

You grabbed your matching lace bra, quickly putting it on, while muttering, "I foolishly fell in love with you and you don't give a shit about me.” You’re on the verge of tears as you grab your dress. While pulling on your dress, you sadly sighed, “Never did and never will, but I guess I was hoping that maybe you would, but I was such a dumbass.”

Your words hit Coriolanus hard, like a 2x4 in the head hard. He never knew that you felt like this. Crawling over to the end of the bed, causing his pure white silk duvet to pool and crinkle around him, he reached out and took your hand in his before you could turn away to grab your heels. He looked at your face, silently willing you to look into his icy blue eyes (but you refused to give him the satisfaction- that manipulative fuck).

But maybe if you would've looked at his eyes you would've seen that they weren't gleaming or shining. That his icy blue eyes were dead and empty, like those of a shark.

Giving up on you looking at him, the platinum blonde man (who had his political dreams within reach) began to tell you in a velvety tone, “My darling rose, you’re not a dumbass. I'm sorry you're hurt, but-'”

But before he could continue his lies (Are they lies? Who knows, but you think they are.) you cut him off with, “Don't even finish your sentence. Just shut the fuck up and let me leave with whatever little piece of dignity I have left.”, while forcefully yanking your hand out of his.

“I won't shut the fuck up because I don't want you to leave.” Coriolanus told you, scrambling out of the bed, his long legs nearly tripping him as he chased after you.

You’re grabbing your heels as he tries to reason with you. “Announcing my engagement with Livia and marrying her is so I can gain political allies and power. It has nothing to do with love, in fact I hate her.” While sliding on your black kitten heels, a pricey designer pair with red sole bottoms- a gift from him (probably for your services…), he placed one of his large calloused hands on your shoulder. Coriolanus’ baritone was softer than usual as he revealed, “I want to be with you.”

“You don't want to be with me, you just want me as your mistress so you can have your kinky fucks.” You told him, pushing his hand off of your shoulder. Marching over to his dresser and grabbing your bag (some imported designer leather tote bag- dyed a deep shade of crimson- he gave you, most likely because you let him do whatever he wants to you between the sheets), you told him the blunt truth of, “You don't love me and I'm not going to stick by your side as your mistress.” Shouldering your bag, that matched the color of the manicure you just had done (which he insisted on paying for), you declared, “I deserve somebody to love me with their whole heart, not just their dick, so I'm leaving and never coming back.”

“Please, don't leave.” You heard him say as you walked out of his room.

“Please, baby, don't leave me!” He frantically begged, his voice a loud shout, as he followed you down the hall in a run. Barefeet loudly slapping against the marble floor, sounding almost ominous.

Thank goodness his Grandma’am's hearing was starting to go bad, otherwise she'd be waking up and seeing one hell of a show. Also, thank goodness Tigress moved out years ago, otherwise she'd be a witness to a messy breakup.

A breakup that was long overdue.

You ignored him, only to power walk to the main entrance of the penthouse. You were almost to the door whenever you felt his cold, long fingers wrap around your wrist like an octopus’ tentacles.

“Please, stay the night. We can discuss this in the morning, just-just don't leave me, little dove.” You heard him beg, sounding so unlike his confident self.

A part of you wanted to give in; turn around and melt into his arms. But another part of you, the part that has grown up with Coriolanus and has seen him manipulate everyone around him knew that he was just saying whatever he has to in order to pull your puppet strings; make you stay.

You decided not to turn around, not to give into him. Instead you roughly pulled yourself free of his hold and walked out the door.

You knew that the platinum blonde wouldn't dare follow you, since running after you naked with his well hung junk swinging in the wind would be scandalous.

Unknown to you, after you walked out the door and slammed it shut in his face, Coriolanus quickly ran to his room and tossed on his diagarded pants and shirt from the evening. He ran out the door, barefoot and still buttoning up his wrinkled shirt, in hopes of catching you in the lobby.

Since you were in the only elevator the building has, he ran down the 12 flights of exquisite marble stairs to reach the lobby. Nearly slipping and busting his ass a couple of times too.

But when he reached the lobby it was too late, you were getting into the back of a cab you hailed. As Coriolanus ran to the door of the lobby, he felt his cold, dead, black, too small of a heart shatter into a million pieces as he watched you close the cab’s door with tears shining like diamonds in your eyes.

Seeing you crying in the back of the cab while leaving him, something he knew that neither of you wanted, made him determined to get you back.

If he thought that Lucy Gray betraying and leaving him hurt, well you leaving him because you felt that he couldn't reciprocate your feelings of love (because he was going to have an arranged marriage with Livia Cardew for political reasons) gutted him. Made him feel like he wanted to die.

Coriolanus wanted you; he always has. It's why you've been together, on-off, since your freshman year at the Academy.

He has to woo you back. He just has to.

Because the thought of you moving on with another man just doesn't sit right with him.

It doesn't matter that Coriolanus’ engagement with Livia Cardew will be publicly announced soon, he needs you back.

He can't have another bird of his flying away, can he?

Ending your decade long on-off situationship with the Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow hurt. Oh gods, it hurt so fucking bad! You felt like you’re just going thru the motions everyday after the breakup. Like you’re just surviving, not truly living, since you’re so sad.

So heartbroken.

And what hurts the most was that, even tho you knew you could never truly be with him, you still love him.

And you'll probably always love him in a way, even tho he'll never love you. Because he's your first love; they say you never forget your first love. That you'll always have a special spot on your heart carved out just for them.

So when you saw the engagement announcement for Livia Cardew and Coriolanus Snow in the social pages of the newspaper, you thought you were going to be sick.

The picture used for the announcement was professionally done; made the newly engaged couple look so lovely together. It made you sad to say, but they did make quite a match.

Two golden lions, regal with the world at their feet. Their blonde hair, her's a dirty golden shade and his a near white platinum blonde, styled impeccably set off their beauty. A beauty that was showcased in matching black outfits, hers a black tea dress with flowing sleeves and his a 3-piece suit with a red/black striped tie.

They looked every bit a couple of the old guard. A couple worthy of money, glory, and power. You're positive that Grandma'am’s proud of him.

If only you knew how she really felt. How Grandma'am Snow always thought that it'd be you and her grandson posting an engagement announcement in the social section of the newspaper. How she's so disappointed at Coriolanus for picking a heinous bitch instead of you, a girl who's soul reminds her so much of her beloved late daughter-in-law (Coriolanus' mother).

Then you couldn't help, but think that maybe Livia’s better for Coriolanus. Better than you are for him. Maybe he'd be happier with her than with you. After all, she came with the largest bank of Panem attached to her name and you came with nothing. You had no money or jewels to offer, just yourself.

And you weren't good enough for him.

Coriolanus Snow always craved power, wealth, and prestige. None of which you could offer him. None of which you gave a shit about.

All you wanted was to be loved, but he couldn't do that for you. All the cold hearted schemer could do was buy you fancy, luxurious, expensive things.

You had no idea that gifting was his love language. That he enjoyed seeing your face light up when he presented you with some gift that you'd never be able to afford on your own. He got pleasure out of spoiling you; taking care of you.

Unfortunately for him, you’re tired of being a kept woman. You don't want him to buy you a bunch of high end things. You want him and since he can't give you his love, you left. You decided to move on.

Which is why you blocked his number, because you had to move on and find somebody that you would be more than enough for. And you couldn't do that with him blowing up your phone constantly. You also started looking for a new apartment, because you couldn't keep having him dropping off roses at your doorstep all the time.

And since your mother to lived on the 8th floor of Corso apartment the Snow penthouse was in, it was a chore to avoid Coriolanus. So, to avoid any drama with him, you had to find a new apartment. You mother agreed; told you that to make a clean break you needed to leave the area. Move on from the part of town you were raised in; lived in.

You needed to fly on your own wings.

At least your job on the marketing team for Odair Luxury Cruises was safe from him. And that job did come with a sweet perk of allowing employees the opportunity of affordable housing in a select few luxury apartments near the downtown Capitol office building the company was headquartered in.

So at least your apartment hunting wouldn't be too hard.

You were right, your apartment hunt wasn't hard at all. In fact, due to your employment at Odair Luxury Cruises, you were able to secure yourself a 4th floor apartment at the Luxe, right in the bustling downtown of Capitol City, Panem.

Apartment #455 to be exact.

It was a lovely apartment with a courtyard view. It had 9 foot ceilings and white kitchen cabinetry in what could only be a top of the line kitchen. The open layout of the kitchen and living space has a modern feel to it. The lone bedroom in the apartment was very spacious and even had a walk-in closet; the apartment had a small study as well.

It was definitely an upgrade from your mother's apartment, which was nice due to the Plinths fixing it up after buying the building and moving onto the 11th floor roughly 4 years ago. (Unknown to you, Strabo Plinth did the bare minimum repairs to your mother's apartment and furnished it because Coriolanus asked him -more like nagged him- to.)

You're Luxe apartment wasn't as lavish as the Corso penthouse Coriolanus shares with his Grandma’am (the same penthouse he used to bring you to for all of those booty calls over the years) but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that you thought your new apartment was amazing.

And after moving in, you stopped receiving roses at your doorstep. Thank the gods. But since your new building had a doorman, you knew that was the reason you didn't have any more stalkery type floral arrangements waiting for you at your threshold.

And roughly a week or so after moving into your new place, you met your neighbor from across the hall.

#454

It was a typical morning, you had a travel mug of coffee in your hand and was dressed professionally in a pencil skirt and blouse (of course you're wearing those damn kitten heels he who shall not be named- as your older brother’s girlfriend calls your ex-fling of sorts- got you.) as you stepped out into the hallway of your apartment. Usually you never saw your neighbor across the hall, but this morning he rushed out the door- his shaggy bronze hair rustling around his shoulders- and his stunning sea-green eyes locked onto yours.

“Why, you must be new. I've never seen you before.” The tall and extremely handsome man smiles flirtatiously at you. Crossing the hall, to stand in front of you, he introduced himself. “Name’s Odysseus Odair.” Doing a little bow, he smiled a bit too brightly, “The pleasure’s all mine, my abalone pearl.”

Holy shit, is the heir of Odair Luxury Cruises your neighbor and flirting with you right now? No. No, it couldn't be. This has to be a dream.

Except it's not a dream and the heir to a large cruise company in District 4 that's based in the Capitol is really your flirty and handsome neighbor.

“You're Poseidon Odair’s son, heir to Odair Luxury Cruises?” Was all you could manage to get out.

“Yes, that's me, but your name would've worked better for your part of the introduction.” He laughed, the sound similar to the kree-ar call a seagull makes. Shaking his head, causing his bronze hair to skirt around his collared dress shirt (which has a few of the buttons undone to show off his tan and toned chest) he teased, “Usually that's how introductions work, pretty pearl, cause I already know who I am and want to know who you are.”

“I'm Y/N Halvir; I only know who you are because I work in the marketing department for your father's company.”

“Yes, your name sounds familiar.” Odysseus nods with a bright, closed lip smile that makes his cheeks dimple. “You need a ride to the office? I was heading there myself.”

You shook your head, quickly turning down his offer. “Oh, no, I don't want to bother you.”

“Oh, trust me, you won't be a bother.” He said with a flirty glint in his sea-green eyes. “In fact, we’ll go to the corner cafe; get some coffee, donuts, and call it our first date.”

You couldn't help, but giggle at his proposition. He couldn't be serious, could he?

But the way his sunshine like smile was aimed towards you made you realize that he was serious.

Which is why you smiled back and said, “Okay, let's have our first date before work.”

Holding his arm out, like a gentleman, Odysseus winked. “I'll even take you out tonight for seafood.” A sultry look appeared in his eyes as he told you, “I’ll make sure that the dessert's a mouthwatering, delicious one for our second date.”

Odysseus' innuendo didn't go unnoticed by you. And after everything you've been thru with Coriolanus, along with being single for roughly a month now, you decided that it was time to stop pouting over somebody that doesn't give a shit about you.

That it was time to let somebody new have a chance at loving you.

“That sounds like a plan.” You smiled, walking down the hallway arm in arm with the tall bronze man that was sculpted like a Greek god of old. “I'll make sure to wear a nice dress for the occasion.”

“Yes, please do. Even if I'm not one for dressing up, the place I'm taking you to does have a dress code.”

“A dress code similar to Avelina's?” You asked, assuming that whatever fancy seafood place Odysseus was taking you too would be similar in fashion sense to the restaurant Coriolanus took you to every year for your birthday, once you turned 19. (Would've been nice to go there more than once a year, but you figured your ex was just too embarrassed to be seen out in public with you too much since you weren't off the same pedigree as him).

“Ugh, I hate that place. It's so stuffy; reeks of old money.” Odysseus complained as the elevator came into view. Shaking his head, he explained, “Ocean Prime's not a black tie affair dress code, like Avelina's, but more of a nice cocktail dress and button up type of dress code.” Coming to a stop at the elevator bank, he pressed the call button for it and asked, “Do you own the classic little black dress? If so, it'd be perfect for dinner tonight.”

Nodding, you simply told him, “I own one.”

And you only owned one because all of the cocktail dresses you owned were commissioned by Coriolanus- for his cousin Tigris to design and make- and they were all various shades of white, red, and pink. You only had one little black dress because you had bought it yourself, with your own hard earned money, off of a clearance rack. It wasn't anything fancy and you never wore it, since Coriolanus always wanted you to match him if and when he took you somewhere.

So, tonight your little black dress will finally get worn. Worn for your second date with a man who seems warm like sunshine with sea-green eyes that twinkle dreamily.

It's been nearly a month since you left Coriolanus and he's not taking it too well. He never thought that you'd truly leave him. He always just assumed that you'd be there.

He knows now that he took you for granted. It's something that he regrets everyday, whether he admits it or not.

And what gnaws at Coriolanus is how you ignored every single attempt he made to win you back. Blocking his number and moving to a new apartment, in his opinion, was an extreme way to avoid him.

Your bitch of a mother, who smoked more than a chimney and drank more than a fish, refused to give Coriolanus your new number. She also refused to tell him your new address. He literally had to pay off somebody in the HR department of Odair Luxury Cruises to get him your new info. Which turned out to be useless since the doorman at the Luxe apartments was very strict when it came to adhering to the wishes of the residents when it came to who was and wasn't allowed to visit or leave things for them and wouldn't let him pass the door. Even when he flashed a large wad of cash at the man, he still refused to budge.

Ugh, moral people were the boil on Coriolanus' ass.

Coriolanus was tempted to just show up and corner you at work, but he ended up deciding against it. But only because he had political ambitions and didn't want a scene to be caused (one that he feels you would cause) that could be damning to his image.

He was sacrificing so much for his political dreams. Listening to Strabo Plinth and getting engaged to Livia Cardew, to gain more wealth and some political goals. Because if he couldn't become a Senator and, of course, after that the President of Panem then wouldn't his greatest sacrifice- his loss of you, be all for nothing?

One afternoon Coriolanus was neck deep in work, but he found himself staring at a framed picture on his desk. It was a picture of the two of you. One that was taken at the Yule Ball during Senior year at the University. It was his favorite picture of the two of you, which is why he has it framed on his desk.

But before he could get lost in the memory of that night, a knock sounded at his office door. Tearing his gaze off of the picture frame, he looked up to the door and simply said, “Come in.”

“Sir, your fiance's here to see you.” Coriolanus' personal secretary, a middle-aged woman who's hot pink lipstick matched her pixie cut, informed him while walking into the office.

“About what, Marge?” Asked Coriolanus while blinking his eyes- attempting to soothe the pain in them from the hot pink overload he was experiencing.

His corneas couldn't handle looking at his secretary’s hot pink paisley print dress since it made her hair stand out more. He also tried not to stare at his employee too rudely while noticing her fuchsia dyed eyebrows and matching pink mascara- that oddly framed a natural eyelid.

Averting his eyes back to his computer, (*cough* his framed picture of you *cough*) Coriolanus told Marge, “I'm busy; I don't have time to deal with her petty antics today.”

“I know that, Sir. I even told Miss Cardew that you're very busy planning the upcoming games, but she wouldn't hear it. She's demanding that I buzz her in; let her see you.”

“Well, don't.” Coriolanus told his secretary because the last thing he wanted to do was talk to his fiance, Livia Cardew.

Gods, how he hated that woman.

“What do you want me to tell her then, Sir?” Marge asked.

“That I'm in a meeting and can't see her at the moment.”

“Okay, but what kind of meeting?” The secretary asked, knowing full well that the dirty blonde Tasmanian devil of a woman out in the lobby would ream her out if she didn't have any details to give her. Saying in a meeting wouldn't suffice that shrew.

“Tell her I'm networking with somebody about the mass installation of mandatory TVs in the districts.” The cold, callous, platinum blonde man said without skipping a beat.

“I thought you successfully had that meeting yesterday?” The secretary asked in a tone that implied she knew her boss was a cunning piece of shit.

“I did, but she doesn't know that.” Coriolanus smirked.

“No, I suppose she doesn't.” Marge giggled. A giddy look took over the middle aged woman's face as she told her boss, “I saw Miss Halvir last night at Ocean’s Prime. It's a seafood restaurant.”

“What's she doing there? She can't afford it with what she makes working in the marketing department of that District 4 based cruise line.” Coriolanus scoffed. Giving his personal secretary a curious look, he asked, “And what were you doing there? I know you can't afford a place like that either.”

Marge fought hard to keep herself from rolling her fuschia framed eyes at Mr. Snow's offhand remarks about money. What both she and you couldn't afford. With a fake and forced smile, she told the imposing platinum blonde, “I was there because my daughter and her partner just celebrated their one year anniversary; the reason for Miss Halvir being there was that she was out on a date.”

“A DATE?!” Coriolanus asked in a loud roar.

A date. How dare you go out on a date. You're not supposed to be going out on dates. You're supposed to be his.

Despite being separated for nearly a month, you still belong to him. Hell, he took your virginity when you both were green kids at the Academy. As far as he's concerned, he owns your pussy.

“Yes, a date.” The bright pink-haired secretary confirmed before telling her boss, “With Odysseus Odair, the heir of Odair Luxury Cruises.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Coriolanus loudly cursed, his icy blue eyes blazing with white hot anger.

You went out on a date to some high priced seafood (Since when did you eat seafood, other than those oysters rockefeller appetizers he orders for you two when he takes you to Avelina's for your birthday?) restaurant with Odair- the biggest manwhore in all of the Capitol! 

What the hell's wrong with you? You accuse him of not loving you, of just wanting you for kinky sexy, but here you are going out on a date with Odysseus Odair. The biggest fuck ‘em and leave ‘em guy in the Capitol. Hell, probably in all of Panem.

Marge was taken aback by her boss's reaction to finding out that you were on a date with Odysseus Odair the previous night. The middle-aged woman's never seen the cold and collective head gamemaker lose control before. And she didn't know how to deal with it.

All she wanted to do was spread some juicy gossip and to maybe tip him off that the Odair heir might be bringing a plus one to his upcoming engagement party; one that he's well acquainted with. Marge certainly wasn't expecting Coriolanus to start flipping his shit.

But what Marge didn't know was that Coriolanus is pea green with envy. That he wants to destroy Odysseus Odair because he's with you.

The woman that he's in love with, even if he won't allow himself to admit his feelings. Because he vowed to never ever fall in love after everything that transpired between him and Lucy Gray that summer he served as a peacekeeper in 12.

But love is something that can't be controlled. And that's something Coriolanus will learn first hand as he does everything in his power to get you back. To win you away from one Odysseus Odair, the bane of his existence.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover

[devinescribe]

Nicknames

Characters included: Tanner, Treech, Sejanus, Reaper, Jessup, Coriolanus

These are my opinions please don’t hate especially for the district boys we only have a limited time with them so-

Also Coriolanus’s is the shortest bc I can’t write him for shit-

Tanner: I feel like he's kind of awkward with his nicknames. At first he's scared to call you them, sticking with basic ones, but after he gets comfortable he will have some other ones. But he still gets blushy and nervous when he calls you them

Darlin', my sweet girl, baby, gorgeous.

"Hi darlin' I hope I didn't keep you waitin' on me too long...well ain't you just the prettiest thing this side of ten."

Treech: cute nicknames that have to do with more of situations and things you remind him of.

Sunshine, darlin', sweetheart, (N/N), sweet face, angel, and anything else he comes up with. In secret, in his head,calls you goddess.

He does get jealous, but not like Coryo, occasionally adds my in-front.

"Good morning sunshine, this is your daily reminder that you... are quite literally the most beautiful person to walk this earth."

Sejanus: sweet boy calls you anything he can think of, and eventually is like this is too much let me dial it back. He thinks that saying your name is much more intimate than a nickname, but he still calls you them. Just that when he's speaking to you normally he'll more than likely say your name. Nicknames are more special that way because he doesn't use them all the time.

Dearest, beloved, baby, angel.

"You... look amazing angel... I'm so lucky to be considered yours."

Coriolanus: he's very simple with his nicknames. Classical names.

Darling, my love, dear, dearest, doll.

"Hello my dearest, are you ready? You look absolutely ravishing today if I may say so."

Reaper: He might look intimidating but he's a sweetheart, a big teddy bear. And he loves you in quiet ways rather than in big expressive ways. And one of those is nicknames. Has jokingly called you the apple of his eye before just to see you laugh.  He uses simple ones, and a small amount, but it's still sweet.

Doll face, sweetness, and my love.

“Evenin’ sweetness… well aren’t you as pretty as a daisy in the spring.”

Jessup: guys he’s actually so bbg um he only has one nickname for you and one only. He thinks that one fits you well and that is like the perfect match. He’s so sweet with it too.

Angel

Calls you that because he thinks you saved him and added hope back into his life. He’s a hopeless romantic I think. He loves you sooooo much

“You’re too sweet, angel… I’ll get tooth aches just from kissing you if you keep this up.”

[keistance]

bitches hate me for serving cunt. and also my crimes against humanity

[broadway-and-books-love]

The Coriojanus homoeroticism jumped out during the buffer

[julietasgf]

the posts about the plinth family being so immigrant-coded and the districts speaking English as a second language had me thinking about sejarcus reunion. Like imagine sejanus trying so hard to connect with Marcus by speaking d2's native language, but sejanus is rusty because he left when he was 8 and didn't have much practice speaking the language in the capitol. I imagine strabo would try to ban the language in the home after moving to the capitol to force the family to assimilate. and so sejanus can really only speak the language with Ma when strabo isn't around to yell at him for it. And when sejanus speaks to Marcus in d2's language, he's trying to be like, look even though I moved to the capitol, I'm still district at heart! I'll never be capitol and I hate what the capitol is doing! But since it's been so long since he's spoken the language, he's shaky and it comes off more as him forgetting his culture, his roots, his language, and assimilating into the society of the oppressor. just something about sejanus basically being a 1.5 generation immigrant who will never fit into the new country/place nor the old country/district </3 and how people from the native country sometimes look down on the second gen or 1.5 gen for not being fluent in the native language of the country and see them as "not really *insert ethnicity*" because they can't hold a convo about the political and economic state of the world in the native lang. ok I don't think Marcus would be snobby about rusty language skills, but its like a further sign that sejanus isn't really district anymore no matter how hard he tries to present himself as such </3

anonnnnn I love this concept!!

the idea of sejanus going to the zoo that first day, and trying to speak to marcus (even tho coriolanus is giving sejanus side eye stare bc sejanus is basically shouting in whatever the hell he's speaking), but the flow of his speech is not the same, and he ends up switching some verbs, and it sounds a tad bit broken. and now marcus refused to even LOOK at him and sejanus feels horrible because he thinks of how ridiculous it probably was.

a boy from the academy, wearing that red uniform, surrounded by capitol people at the capitol, trying to speak to a district boy in broken district language. it sounds almost like mockery. it sounds like a capitol boy trying to pass as district.

(I don't think marcus would be snobby, but he would definitely be pissed off 😭)

then he comes back home, and begs his ma to help him practice, because he needs to speak with marcus, but he knows he doesn't sound as natural as when he was a child. and his ma helps him practice, and he actually gets less rusty, but it still isn't the same, he still sounds more like a capitol boy trying to pass as district than an actual district kid (the irony that in the capitol, he has a district accent, but speaking the districts' language, he has a capitol accent). and marcus still. doesn't. talk. to him. he refuses to do it, and all sejanus can think is that his language skills got so bad to the point maybe marcus can't even understand him anymore.

(marcus actually can understand him, it's just that there are other reasons)

also, this weighs a lot on the whole thing regarding not being able to fit in one place or another. other mentors would probably be annoyed or jealous that sejanus can actually communicate with his tribute properly. why are they all struggling while sejanus is there speaking effortlessly? but at the same time, for someone from the districts who grew up speaking that language, it's clearly not 100%, it's slow-ish and it doesn't sound completely natural.

he'll never be enough district, but will never be seen as capitol either.

[talkshowboyluvr]

if coriolanus was assigned as treech's mentor instead of lucy grays nothing in the plot would change, he'd just try to romance treech instead

my post for further explanation :)

[mitsuki91]

And once again there are people that mix fiction and reality... Guys... Guys... You can like the villain in a novel I promise... That doesn't make you amoral or bad... It's a fucking piece of media... Not real... And you are you, you are not the characters you like... Also even the "you like this or that characters because you want this or that irl as partner" I promise you it is NOT true.

[titforatat]

oh my god please tell me you’ll make a pt3 to the corio fics,,, i just read the most recent one and i’m not ok, your writing is insane ??!

alright i can’t lie, i’m experimenting with coryo pov and having the time of my life 💀

[adultingproperly]

Sejanus Gets Jealous

The next day, everyone was talking about how they heard someone having sex in the cabin, but no one seemed to know exactly who it was.

"I can't believe they snuck the girl out before anyone saw who it was," Bug grumbled.

"Who here got fucked last night?" Beanpole demanded, scrutinizing each person’s face at the table. "Just tell us!"

“I only wish I had gotten to watch; I was too far away,” someone else said wistfully.

Smiley flushed bright red and choked on his water, and everyone's attention turned to him.

"Oh, so was it Smiley?" Beanpole asked.

"N-no! It wasn't me," he insisted as he coughed.

Bug shook his head. “No way. Smiley doesn’t pull any bitches.”

Everyone laughed and Smiley turned bright red as he tried and failed to defend himself.

Sejanus’ hand lingered on Coryo’s inner thigh underneath the table as he laughed along with them and feigned interest in the discussion; Coryo kept his face blank even when Smiley’s eyes kept meeting his.

*

Almost everyone had left the mess hall and Coryo was waiting for Sejanus to return from the bathroom.

“Gent?”

Coriolanus turned and Smiley stood behind him, rubbing his neck while he gazed at Coryo.

“Smiley,” he replied cooly.

"So, um, last night was really hot…" Smiley trailed off. “You were really hot, actually.”

Coryo felt a slow smile overtake his face.

Oh, this could be fun.

For him and Sejanus; not necessarily for Smiley.

But Coriolanus didn’t really care about him.

"I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Coryo said charmingly as he looked Smiley up and down.

Smiley leaned in, licking his lips nervously. "So you and Sejanus: are you, like exclusive, or…"

Coryo suddenly felt someone's eyes on him, and he turned slightly to confirm his suspicions. Sejanus stared at them from across the mess hell, his cheeks an angry red as he scowled.

"I wouldn't say that we’re exclusive," Coryo replied, a little more loudly than necessary.

"Would you…want to maybe…hook up sometime?" Smiley asked hopefully, and Coryo saw Sejanus stalking towards them from the corner of his eye.

"Maybe," Coryo replied airily, having no intention of ever doing that. Within seconds, he felt Sejanus grip his wrist tightly, and a thrill ran through his body.

"We have to go do drills, remember?" Sejanus said in a low voice, ignoring Smiley completely. "Let's go, Coriolanus."

Sejanus dragged him into an empty shed nearby and closed the door behind them with a little too much force, causing the door hinge to rattle slightly.

Coryo kept his face blank even as he felt his body react to the aggression.

Fuck, it was so hot when Sejanus was angry.

[fancy-whitedwarf]

Am I normal or am I the only jealous bitch who was screaming, crying, throwing up and dying when Lucy x corio scenes came on?

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. DarkCoriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus

Chapter 2:

While Coriolanus is in his office, high up on the top floor of the Citadel, raging and having an internal meltdown about your relationship, you’re walking down a crowded downtown sidewalk, hand in hand with Odysseus. The two of you were heading to a cafe near the office for lunch.

“I'll cook you dinner tonight. How does that sound for a third date?” The bronze-haired man offered, his smile full of sunshine and dimples. Odysseus' smile was contagious: you couldn't help, but to smile widely back at him.

“Last time I had a man cook for me I was 18.” You honestly admitted as a fleeting memory of Coriolanus, all skin and bones, stirring a pot of cabbage popped into your mind.

“I know that it's rude to ask a woman her age, but I must know, how old are you?”

“I’m not offended, Odysseus.” You assured him before revealing your age. “I'm 24, by the way.”

Leaning in, as if he was going to tell you a big secret, he smiled- large and scandalously, and revealed, “I'm 28.” Bumping your shoulder lightly with his, Odysseus teasingly chuckled, “Guess it's time for me to bust out the wheelchair since I'm the Old Man of the Sea in this relationship and you're the youthful mermaid.”

You let out a laugh, a genuine laugh, at your boyfriend's words. You've only known him for a day, but so far he's proven to be nothing, but respectful and kind. He's unlike anyone you've ever met before.

Odysseus was very bubbly and it was refreshing. After being with someone so cold and calloused for so long, being with a warm soul was like a breath of fresh air.

“I don't know much about such things. Is it something common to District 4?”

Odysseus nodded, only to say. “The Old Man of the Sea is the water god, Triton.” instead of leaving it there, he decided to explain the legend of the sea god to you. “He's very wise and it's said that if you can manage to capture him and hold on as he changes into many forms that he can answer any questions that you have, about anything at all.”

“Had anyone ever caught him?” You curiously asked as the cafe came into view.

“Some claim to have caught him, no one really pays them any mind, now do they?” He chuckled.

Odysseus' smile brightly widened as he animatedly explained the lore of mermaids to you, “And a mermaid, according to folklore, is a mythological water spirit that's the most beautiful siren of a woman on the top half, while having a fish tail instead of legs for the bottom half.” Coming to a stop at the cafe, he held the door open for you while continuing his sea creature lecture with, “They can both wreak havoc by causing shipwrecks and can be benevolent by granting boons; some even forgo their own mermen and fall in love with human men.”

Guiding you to one of the bistro tables (since the cafe was on of those seat yourself and someone will be with you in a moment type places), he told you with a faraway look in his sea-green eyes. “My Pops says that my Ma was so beautiful that he's positive that she was a mermaid who struck a deal to gain human form.”

From the way his voice slightly quaked while mentioning his mother, you knew that she was most likely dead. How did you know? Because Coriolanus’ voice did the same thing if and when he ever mentioned his late mother (which was rare and far in-between).

“How old were you when she passed, if you don't mind me asking?” You tentatively asked, knowing that it might be a touchy subject, while taking your.seat at a windowside Odysseus brought you to.

“I don't mind you asking, honey.” The bronze haired man assured you, taking his seat across from you at the table. Grabbing the menus from the display rack on the edge table, near the window, and handing one over to you, he simply said, “I was about 9.” Opening his menu, he sadly explained, “There was a hurricane in 4 that completely flattened the beach side community her family's house was at. Even tho she was a strong swimmer, she drowned.” Staring a hole into his menu, he bitterly spat, “President Ravinstill refused to send help or aid, or to even evacuate that part of District 4 because Panem was in the early days of the war.”

“You and Poseidon were here, in the Capitol, while she was trapped in 4.” You concluded while scanning your own menu.

“Yes, that's how I ended up living a privileged life in Capitol City while my mother and her family’s beach house was swept off of its foundation; lost to the depths of Davy Jones' locker.”

“My father was an officer in 12 during the war. His commander helped him smuggle my mother, older brother, and me here, to the Capitol, during the Dark Days.”

“He was found swinging in the trees outside of 12 with General Snow, wasn't he?”

“Yea.” You nodded, only to change the subject by announcing what you thought looked appetizing on the menu.

Coriolanus was barely holding it together whenever he walked into his penthouse. As he went to hang up his coat and place his leather briefcase on the side table by the coat rack, he felt his Grandma'am’s eyes on him.

Her stare was scrutinizing, making him feel as if he was a little boy again- getting scolded. He hates that feeling. The feeling of not being perfect, of failing. He strives to be the best, at everything he does, so Grandma'am staring him down with thoughts of shame unnerved him.

Grandma'am didn't have to say it, he just knew that she was disappointed in him. But why? He's successful as the Head Gamemaker, he's going to announce his run for Senate, and he's engaged to be married to a young lady from a very prestigious banking family. He's well on his way to success.

On his way to becoming the President of Panem in a few years time. Something that Grandma'am has always wanted for Coriolanus. Shouldn't she be proud of him, not staring him down with shame?

“How have I disappointed you, Grandma’am?” Coriolanus asked the old woman, keeping his voice cold and even, as he shrugged out of his favorite maroon trench coat; hanging it up on the corner rack after placing his briefcase on the nearby sphere shaped side table. Made out of mahogany, of course. Only the best for the Snow family.

Which is why you feel like you're not a fixture in the penthouse anymore. You're not good enough to be a part of the Snow family; to be with Coriolanus. There's something better out there for him, but you've come to accept it and move on.

Coriolanus hasn't moved on, but he won't allow himself to admit that he's fucking up his life by listening to Strabo Plinth when it came to the affairs of his heart. Oh, yes, that's right, the platinum blonde man turned into a cold creature that destroyed his own heart; refuses to acknowledge love. All he knows now is hate, indifference, and lust.

Truthfully, he's in denial when it comes to you and his feelings. He just chalks it up to being possessive and lustful over you, but honestly it's love. A dark, twisted take on love since he's a broken man and doesn't know how to love, but it's love none the less that he feels for you.

“Your father would be ashamed of you, Coriolanus. I know that I am; so is your cousin, Tigris.” The white haired woman, dressed in all her fineries, told her grandson. “Most of all, your mother would be heartbroken knowing that her son turned his back on the love of his life.”

Grandma'am’s words cut Coriolanus deep as he walked over to the sitting area in the main room. Her words cut so deep, it felt like a long double edged sword piercing through the spot where his black, cold, dead heart is locked up in his chest.

His jaw clenched painfully as he stormed gracefully, thanks to his long legs, over to the open sitting chair across from his Grandma’am. He felt his soul bleeding in his chest as he sat down. The old Snow family matriarch’s words burned Coriolanus worse than if he bathed in gasoline and lit himself on fire with a match.

But Coriolanus Snow’s a very proud man; he won't admit that Grandma'am's words hurt him. That they rang true; made his conscious berate him. Made him feel a pang of self loathing and guilt.

No…

Coriolanus will act like he didn't do anything wrong, even tho he did.

“I didn't turn my back on the love of my life because I don't have one.” Coriolanus denied in a flat out lie.

Lie, lie, lie!

You're the love of his life and he knows it, but he's just too goddamn afraid to admit it. So fucking scared of being hurt, used, manipulated, and weakened by love. He’d rather deny his feelings for you then face them.

Coriolanus can face anything headon, except for his feelings. The man didn't do feelings. And that was such a shame, because he truly did love you.

Too bad he was too focused on his political ambitions; couldn't see how much you loved him and vice versa.

Grandma'am blanched at Coriolanus’ words. Those words hurt her deeply. She loves you, as if you were one of her own, and knew how large of a role you played in her grandson's life. And to hear Coriolanus write the love you too share so easily, as if it was nothing, made her wonder where she went wrong with him? Tigress turned out fine, so why was Coriolanus so…so cold and dead towards the girl that he's loved his entire life?

Watching Coriolanus as he reached forward to grab a piece of candy from the large 3-tier candy dish set in the middle of the glass coffee table, Grandma'am sadly wondered, “I didn't raise you to be like this, Coriolanus. How can you be so cold when it comes to Y/N, your sweetheart?”

“She was never my sweetheart, Grandma'am.” Coriolanus retorted coldly. The frostiness in his baritone even sent a chill down his own spine, but it was too late to take it back now. The glacial sharp sentence was now in the universe, floating around; sure to manifest and take hold.

The remark and the attitude that accompanied it would surely come back to bite Coriolanus in the ass; to haunt him. There's no way on earth, in heaven, or in hell those cruel and icy words won't find their way back to you. Because they will…

“I see.” Was Grandma’am’s clipped response. Those two words held so much sadness and disappointment in them. The old woman's wrinkled face turned sour as she informed her grandson, “I just hope that she didn't ruin her life sitting around; waiting for your love. She turned down quite a few wealthy suitors, even a General’s son, as I understand from Tigress- who felt that Y/N was wasting her time on you because you've changed- turned hateful and cold.”

What? You turned down opportunity after opportunity to get out of poverty; all because of your silly notion of being in love with him? Of wanting more than what he can offer you?

You willingly choose to work for scraps, having your ideas used by your boss- to be claimed by them as theirs instead- for advertisements and marketing plots, instead of being pampered on and made a socialite by a rich man. What’s wrong with you? Were you truly foolish enough to believe that love could pay the bills; could be more than enough for you? Were you foolish enough to want the insecurity of love over the security of wealth?

Coriolanus never took you for a foolish girl, but now…well he doesn't know what to think. Why would you hold out hope for him to love you, to pick you, to give you things he's incapable of if you weren't foolish. You knew as well as he did that he has to do certain things to climb to the top, to reach his political goals, and that entering a union of love with you isn't one of those things.

“Waiting around for me to love her; to propose a marriage that would only hinder my political aspirations, makes her one of the biggest fools in Panem, Grandma'am.” Heartlessly shot out of Coriolanus’ mouth before he could think twice. He didn't even recognize his voice, but it truly was his.

“I don't know what happened to you, grandson, to make you so hateful. That girl's loved you ever since the Dark Days and you seemed to love her back, but I now see that you were just using her. Using her like that little songbird of 12 used you up years ago during the 10th Hunger Games.” Grandma’am spat at Coriolanus, causing the hardened young man to just flash her a deadly look. A look that would make most people cower in fear. But, Grandma'am Snow wasn't like most people. She did raise General Crassus Snow after all and he had some of the most hateful pale blue eyes in the Capitol.

Coriolanus' face was cold as stone, his eyes flashing with fury, as he seethed, “Don't you bring up that dead district whore to me, you old bitch. I'll take any of your other ramblings, but not talk about that songbird.”

The disrespect and loathing in her grandson’s tone worried Grandma'am. She's never seen Coriolanus in such a light, but she didn't like it.

Her grandson was nothing like his father. No, Coriolanus was worse than Crassus. Despite being a strict man that believed in totalitarian rulership, Crassus Snow was capable of love. He loved his wife dearly and unconditionally. But his son, well, it seems like Coriolanus has closed himself off to love.

And that scares Grandma'am.

“I think, since you're newly engaged, that it's time for you to find your own penthouse to live in.” The Snow matriarch told her iciscle of a grandson while watching him lean forward to grab another piece of candy from the extravagant candy dish.

Popping the piece of candy into his mouth, Coriolanus simply said, “If that's what you want, then I'll move out.” Standing up, he said, “I'll go call the Plinths' realtor, see if there's any penthouses available in one of the new Luxe buildings downtown.”

No, Coriolanus wasn't going to see if there was a penthouse available in any of the new Luxe buildings, but in your specific building. Because, by living in your building, he'll be able to give you gifts without being stopped by that troublesome doorman with high morals. He'll also be able to fix things with you, get you to see his logic and agree to come back to him. Coriolanus will be able to break you and Odysseus Odair, the Capitol’s biggest manwhore, up before you become too enthralled by him. Before he loses you to him.

Despite denying his feelings for you and calling you a foolish girl for loving him, the thought of you possibly falling in love with somebody else terrifies him. It eats away at his soul, knowing that right know you're probably thinking about the date Odysseus took you on last night.

Coriolanus is jealous that you're moving on (after a damn month!) with somebody that he views unworthy of you. And he's going to put an end to things, make you return to his side.

And the perfect way to do that is living in your building. So, hopefully, Coriolanus can purchase the penthouse in your Luxe complex.

After a long day at work, you went home and got changed into something comfortable before going across the hall to Odysseus’. You felt a bit nervous knocking on his door. Yes, he did invite you over and said he'd cook dinner for a third date, but it's been a while since you've been invited to a man's apartment. In fact, the last time you went to a man's apartment was the night that you ended things with your ex.

When the door opened, revealing Odysseus in the doorway dressed in a simple tank and shorts, you felt your mouth go dry. His tan skin was glowing, bronze hair effortlessly framing his shoulders in waves. But it was the face splitting smile, brighter than the sun, that took your breath away.

How is it that he can always flash you that smile every time he's around you? Can he truly be that happy to see you? You last saw him a few hours ago for lunch, he couldn't have missed you that much- could he?

“Come on in.” Odysseus urged you, pulling you into the apartment with an excited look on dimples face. “I got shrimp and asparagus risotto on the stove.” He told you, gently closing the door as you walked into his place; taking in the decor.

The decor was nothing like how you expected a modern, upscale apartment to look like. The walls, instead of being the standard white, cream, or light grey that's standard in the building, were different shades of blue and green. Also, you noticed how a pair of hammock-like chairs made up entirely of rope and nets hung from the ceiling. Instead of a sofa, like most people had in their apartments, Odysseus had floor cushions that were shaped to resemble a couch. The coffee table was a chunk of driftwood with glass on it, while the TV was set on a table painted various shades of blue to resemble waves. And the wall decorations of various shells really set off the beachy vibe of the apartment.

“Is this how houses are decorated in District 4?” You asked, standing in the middle of the mainroom- taking everything in.

“Yea.” Odysseus nodded. “Wait until you see the kitchen, you'll love it.” He told you, only to grab your hand and drag you into the kitchen.

The kitchen, that was decorated with mounted fish all over the walls. The beautiful white cabinets had all of their doors taken off. The back walls of the cabinets were painted teal, creating a contrast with the white shelves and frame. And the once white marble countertops were painted (Yes, he painted over marble!) seafoam green. The kitchen island stools looked to be made out of a mix of driftwood and rope, which made you wonder how sturdy they were.

“Sit down, honey. The risotto’s almost done.” Your new boyfriend beamed, guiding you to sit down on one of the stools (that you were iffy about). “You're going to love this risotto; recipe’s a simple one from 4, but it's delicious.” Odysseus told yoy, going over to the stove and stirring the contents in the pan so it wouldn't burn.

“Do you eat anything other than seafood?” You asked, hoping that he did. Honestly, you didn't eat seafood religiously, so if Odysseus did then…well…guess you'll have to deal with it.

“Fish’s healthy for you, Y/N.” The heir to the largest luxury cruiseline out of District 4 told you while taking the risotto pan off of the stove and placing it onto the countertop.

Which was bad, because without a trivet to rest on the heat from the pan can ruin the counter. Does he not give a shit about ruining his counter? Hell, Coriolanus would be having a stroke if you pulled that shit- placing a hot pan on his marble counter without using a trivet.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute, wait a goddamn minute! Why the fuck are you thinking about Coriolanus, your ex, when you're about to have a nice home cooked meal with Odysseus, your current boyfriend? What the hell's wrong with you?

What? Are you going to be that girl that compares apples to oranges in bed too?

Odysseus’ warm hands skirt across your body as his mouth leaves feather soft kisses all over your skin, but it feels foreign to you. Honestly, you're not used to soft caresses and lightly peppered kisses. Of lips pressing against yours firmly, but faintly. You weren't used to a man swiping the tip of his tongue along your lower lip in a way that was both sensual and questioning all at the same time.

No.

You're used to hungry, sloppy butterfly kisses which turn into bruising bites all over your skin. You're used to cold, rough hands squeezing and grabbing at you. You're used to lips harshly clashing against yours in hungry desperate kisses. Kisses that seemed to be from a man starved and he shoved his tongue down your throat without warning. Desperate kisses that turned into opened mouth ones, complete with spit swallowing, tongue sucking, and bottom lip biting.

You're not used to softness. Instead, you're used to roughness. But perhaps you could get used to softness.

Or at least you tell yourself you'll get used to softness as you lay naked underneath Odysseus, splayed out on the floor cushions, as he languidly rolls his hips against yours. His movements are reminiscent of ocean waves crashing against the shore. His thrusts were slow, but powerful.

You felt like you're going to explode as Odysseus’ mellow movements slowly worked passion into you. Your pussy begged to be pounded, craved for his cock to bruise against the spongy spot inside of it. But instead of brute force, your cunt got gently caressed by Odysseus’ large cock (well, he had the length, but not the girth you're used too. Oh god, are you really comparing your boyfriend's cock to your ex’s cock? Yes, yes you are and you'll probably go to hell for it.) evertime he dragged it against your tight walls, only to push back into you again.

You bucked your hips, whining out, “Faster, Odysseus. Harder, please.”

Odysseus just smiled lazily, making his dimples protrude deeply in his cheeks. Bringing one of his hands up to stroke your cheek, he said, “I see you're not used to making love, honey. But, you'll get used to being worshiped like the goddess you are.”

His words were sweet and sent your heart fluttering a mile a minute. And the smoldering look he gave you as he snapped his hips just a little bit deeper, a little bit harder, for you and your head spinning.

And soon, before you knew it, your cunt’s clamping down around his cock and your nails (no longer crimson, but now a simple French manicure) are digging into his shoulder while you whimper, “Odysseus.” over and over as you cum.

Odysseus after feeling you cum around his cock, coating it in your stick juices, quickly pulled out of you. The feeling of emptiness crashed into you harder than any storm wave hitting a pier ever could as Odysseus knelt between your legs, quickly pumping his cock until he cum with your name on his lips. The feeling of his warm cum spurting out onto your belly made you twitch in surprise. 

You weren't used to having hot cum shoot onto your body, you were used to being filled up with it. Was there a reason why your boyfriend didn't want to cum inside of you?

But before you could ask him, he was pushing himself to stand while announcing, “I'll get you a towel so you can clean up.”

“Okay.” You simply nodded, laying on the floor cushions while spent with white pearl like seed slowly sliding down your stomach.

After a few minutes, Odysseus came back with a towel. He gave it to you, before collecting his shorts and pulling them on. As you cleaned his cum off of your stomach, he gathered your clothes- which you thought was odd.

Coriolanus never gathered your clothes for you after fucking you. No, he used to pull you into his arms; pressing you to lay into his side, while carding his fingers thru your hair. Some times, after a particularly rough and hard fucking, he'd draw a bath for the two of you or he'd hold you in bed while telling you that you did so well; that he was proud of you for not using the safeword- only to remind you that next time if you need to use the safe word (red) that you can and he won't think any less of you.

But you're not with the platinum blonde man (who doesn't give a shit about you, who's engaged to the heir of Panem's biggest bank now) anymore, you're now with a bronze haired man who’s habits you'll just have to learn. Have to get used to.

Flopping down on the seat cushions, Odysseus handed you over your clothes. “I thought you might want to get dressed so you won't be could while we watch tv.”

“You want to watch tv?” You asked, finding it strange that he brought up tv instead of cuddling.

“Yea, there's supposed to be a fishing documentary on soon and I don't wanna miss it.”

A fishing documentary…Of course, he wants to watch something about District 4. Well, you can't fault him for that. He has a tie in a way to the district and just wants to learn all he can about it, since he resides in the Capitol.

Plus, you suppose that you can cuddle with him while watching the documentary together.

Coriolanus walked behind the realtor (a middle-aged man that Strabo Plinth had on speed dial) as he opened the door to the penthouse suite of the Luxe apartment building that you reside in. “You're in luck, Mr. Snow, that nobody's applied for this unit; that I was able to fit you in for an after hours showing as well.”

“Yes, Mr. Grand, it seems that I'm very lucky that I'm the only one inquiring about this penthouse.” Coriolanus told the realtor, a calculating line of a smile on his face, as he took in the vast space of the main room. 

It was twice as big as the Corso penthouse; surely you'd be impressed by it. This was your building, even if you did live on a lower floor (where the working-poor of the Capitol were), so Coriolanus knew that you’d like his new penthouse once he convinced you to see it. And, despite just starting the tour with the realtor, it was his place.

The platinum blonde master manipulator was going to move in as soon as possible, because it was the only way to get you back. He had to get you away from that peacock Odair before you did something stupid, like let him seduce you and get knocked up. You're not allowed to get knocked up by anyone, other than Coriolanus that is.

Yes, Coriolanus feels that he's the only one that can give you children. Nobody else better put a baby in you, unless they have a death wish.

But unknown to Coriolanus, Odysseus isn't ready for children yet (He may or may not have a few baby mamas and paternity test disputes floating around that his rich daddy Poseidon’s taking care of) which is why he practiced the pull out method with you while ‘making love’ on his floor cushions.

If only Coriolanus knew…well…he'd be having a coronary.

Not about the pullout method (no, that's something he'd be thankful for cause he's the only one allowed to cum inside of you), but about you making love to Odysseus on the floor. That fact right there would make Coriolanus made enough to kill. He's already jealous that you went to dinner with Odair, but if he ever found out that you fucked him…oh boy…it'd be like a throat punch to his ego.

It'd also be a dagger through his cold, dead, black, too small heart that secretly holds love for you. 

But what Coriolanus doesn’t know won't hurt him. Besides, he's engaged to Livia Cardew and should be worried about her, not you. But, no matter what, he'll always worry about you because you're the one he wants in his life- despite driving you away by entering an arranged match for money, power, and glory.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @twinkletwinklenotastar @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @shellybellysstuff @zombicupcake3

[devinescribe]

Letters and Poems in the Drawer

Ch.9 of “My Sunshine” [TreechxReader]

Ok, so most of these are super cute and sweet. Some can be interpreted as a bit… lewd in a way. And I guess they kind of are? So I guess;

Warnings: some mildly risqué poems. And Treech being a simp-

The boy I shouldn't miss

Because he was never mine. But I can't stop myself from imagining myself in his strong arms. Wearing the stupid hat he wears everyday cause I stole it. Can't stop my stupid lovesick thoughts of kissing him soon as he steps off that damn train. He's the boy I shouldn't miss, but I do. He's the boy I shouldn't be writing poetry about, but I do. He's the boy I shouldn't love, but I do.

———

I love like a dog. Not the cute puppy way, with eyes that plead for you to love me... but in the mutt way. Begging for even a scrap. Loyal to the bitter end. I love like a dog. Staying even when I know there's nothing but hurt ahead, I'll lay in my bed without so much as a whimper, hopin' you'll look at me with the scrap of love I beg for. I love like a dog.

Treech softly played with the corner of the paper and considered burning the piece, something about how vulnerable the piece was. He glared at the paper, as if it was the paper’s fault he wrote all that. He put his head in his hands, and remembered how much you loved reading poetry. Especially the poetry that gave off so many feelings. He softly put it into the drawer.

——

Dear Treech,

You are not going to believe the audacity of this man. I mean, he's always been an asshole, but it pissed me off today. Festus Creed has been a pain in my ass since I moved here. He's always poked fun at me for being district, but I never paid him mind. Suddenly, I'm back in the class after summer break and he's flirting with me!!! Can you believe it, I mean seriously. Does he think I'm dumb? He plays with my hair in class and passes me notes I don't read. His hand writing and spelling are absolutely atrocious, so I wouldn't even be able to read it even if I wanted to. Anyway, I hope your day was great. Mine was. I got to punch Festus Creed in the face. It was during stage hitting practice, and I took the opportunity. I mean I started the waterworks and they all fell for it. Even Creed. I think Dean Highbottom knows... but he likes me, says I’m his favorite student, isn’t that silly? I mean with powers like these? Life is crazy.

Sincerely, your friend,

(N/N)

——-

There's a fine line between jealousy and obsession. I think I'm on the edge of it. I don't really know why. I mean I know you have friends. That doesn't bother me. It's... the way people look at you like they own you. Like you're already theirs. I might say that you're 'mine' but I know that you aren't something to own. I think... what upsets me the most is that you look like they've sucked any joy out of your life. You smile... but it's not real... I guess I'm just... I don't even know at this point.

Fuck

He scribbled on the page and groaned in frustration, upset that his words didn't string together the way they usually did. He crumpled it up and threw it in the small bin he had before sighing. He picked it out and smoothed the paper, folding it and placing it in the drawer.

——

Dear sweet sunshine,

I've been holding the necklace a lot more recently. I have it hidden usually. Firstly so it doesn't get damaged, and secondly because I don't want anyone to try and take it.

I look at it and wonder if you look at yours. You know, that ring was my grandfather's. My grandma gave it to him as a proposal. Isn't that so cool of her? Said she wasn't going to wait forever for him to propose and did it herself. Well, grandpa gave it to me because dad didn't want to have the ring. He said I was to give it to my special someone when the time came. And even though it definitely won't fit you, I think it's cute. I mean, I'll give you your ring back and maybe it will count as that. We were much too young to be thinking of all that, I still think no one deserves it more than you. When you come back I'm making sure it's perfect and shined up.

Much love,

Treech /\

         

——

Dearest Treech,

Yeah yeah it's the first time I actually use your name in one of these. Suck it up buttercup.

You won't believe what some kids tried to do today. I mean I know Capitol kids aren't the nicest, but this goes too far. With all the fine things they have, they tried to take my necklace! Some of them tried to stop the others. Like Pup Harrington. He ain't mean I guess... never says much but doesn't step in. Until today. Asked them why they wanted my necklace when they had nicer things. I mean I guess that was supposed to be insult? I don’t know. Hate Clemensia. She’s so mean. Said that it might be nicer, but mine was one of a kind. Coriolanus, his name is a mouth full, said she was acting no better than a district kid. Was it mean? Yeah. Insulting? Above else. But it made everyone stop. Sejanus scoffed a sarcastic sentence about us district kids acting better than the Capitol kids. I mean the teacher stood there! She didn’t do anything! I’m glad it’s my last year with her. Next year, we start the last four years of Academy.

Anyway, just needed to rant about them. Love you!

Sincerely,

(Y/N) ♡

——

I think about you. All the time. I try not to, you distract me. I mean, your dad makes so many public appearances, it’s hard not to stare at you on the screen. You’re gorgeous. So fucking pretty. Sometimes you talk, and your voice is so sweet… And I have to stop myself from thinking to much about it. I work alone most days, so I try not to get distracted. At night, when I’m alone in my room I can finally let my mind run and wander across everything. I mean it’s stupid. I sit at my desk and try to write but end up fantasizing about you and I. What kind of life would we have? Together, I mean.

——

There’s lots of things I’ve written I will avoid giving you. I don’t want you to know that I’ve been thinking about you in any way that might scare you off. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Love poems are one thing, no matter how embarrassing it is a guy like me writes them. The rest are thoughts and things I kept for fear of anyone reading them. If you asked me, I bet all it would take is one look from your pretty begging eyes, and I’d give in. Staring at the ceiling is pointless so I close my eyes and imagine you’re here with me.

——

Oh my darling, I will never find anyone as wonderful as you. The things I wrote poems about will come to fruition with you. You are now and have always been the subject of my poetry. You make me swoon, and my heart race. Your words are saccharine sweet when I hear them in my head. Butterflies flutter in my stomach and you made it easy to talk to you. I am completely comfortable around you I want to give you all of me all that I am…

You blushed writing the last lines, hiding your face in your hands. Was it even right thinking of him like this? Did he ever think of you like that? Were you both thinking of each other at the same time when your eyes flutter shut?

——

I’d beg till my voice goes hoarse, if you told me to

I’d drop everything, if you told me to

I’d fall to my knees in second, if you told me to

I’d take anything. All the pain, all the pleasure whatever it might be, if you told me to

I’d listen to every command, every wish, every fantasy, and make it come true. If you told me to.

Because I want to be just yours. All that to say I want to be yours. Your darling, your sweetheart, your beau, whatever you want to call me.

Your boy, only yours

How could I ever want anyone else?

Hehehe imagine simping that hard couldn’t be me anywayyyyy-

[etfrin]

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

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

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

⇢☾Summary: being jelly leads to sexy times!

⇢☾A/N: hope y'all enjoy this!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[perlelune]

Hunger | Coriolanus Snow

From the moment your husband introduces to President Snow, you're untethered, as if the very floor was ripped from underneath you.

Warnings: NON-CON, District 12! Reader, Covey! Reader, Housewife Kink, Manipulation, Somnophilia, Breeding Kink, Chasing

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

Nervousness wrenches your insides as you peer at the proceedings from afar. Another gala to raise funds in order to quell a budding rebellion in the Districts. The second one this year. 

They always leave you feeling sour. It’s not like the Districts have no reason to start an uprising. The next reaping is fastly approaching and you’d rage too if your family was to go through that again.

You take a tiny sip from your glass of posca, mindful not to overindulge. The diluted, aromatic wine is far stronger than one would imagine. But a slight dash of intoxication is the only way you can see yourself getting through the night. Crowds always made you anxious, but a gathering of Capitol citizens stirs a particular discomfort in you. 

You’re not one of them and you often wonder if they can tell, sense a whiff of District 12 on you. The foul stench of unbelonging. Perhaps in the manner you speak or your stance. You’ve never managed to perfectly mimic the way Capitol ladies carry themselves, born from a lifetime of practicing poise and etiquette. After all, you are an outsider, and always will be.

Regardless of how many galas you attend, fashionable dresses you order to match the quickly changing trends of the Capitol, effort you exert to erase your thick Covey accent…it seems someone can always tell there’s more to you.

It’s in that mocking glint in their eyes, that sneering lilt in their voice.

To them, you’ll never be more than District rabble. 

Which is exactly why you despise these events. But your husband insisted. He’s working hard to impress his boss, the most important man in all of Panem, and you can’t let him down.

You must be the picture of charm. Laugh at every joke, nod your head when a serious topic is being broached, display interest when personal stories are being shared.

You place a hand on your roaring stomach, a frown creasing your brow. You haven’t swallowed a bite the entire day, too anxious about how tonight would go.

Your gaze darts about the room. The tantalizing spread of appetizers in the middle of the room seems to be calling your name. Your mouth waters.

Without a thought, your feet glide across the marble tiles. A little self-conscious, hesitation tingles at your fingertips as they drum by one of the silver platters. Another pang of hunger pierces your insides at the sight of the food. You cave in, picking up a tiny sandwich from a plate. Your eyes close, angels singing in your mouth as delicious aromas trickle on your tongue. 

“Sweetie, there’s someone you must meet,” your husband chimes at your back.

Still chewing on a mouthful of meat and bread, you whirl. Your eyes bulge. Startled, you nearly suffocate on your food.

You quickly wipe your mouth as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You’ve seen his face before. The murky screens do not do justice to his dashing looks.

“President Snow. It’s a pleasure. Apologies, I was…”

A smile ghosts over his lips as he drinks you in, his cerulean gaze dragging over your frame. “No apologies,” he answers silkily. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the food. At least someone is.”

He picks up your hand and presses an ephemeral peck on the back of it. You turn to Henry. The shock adorning your husband’s face mirrors yours.

President Snow’s lips curl skywards.

He lets go of your hand and adds, “It’s nice putting a face to your name. Henry is always raving about you.”

You shake your head, eyes bashfully finding the floor. “Oh, I’m sure he isn’t,” you mumble.

The blonde hums as if to disagree. He bends close to your ear.

“He’s always lauding what a wonderful wife you are, dutiful, sweet…”

…Makes me almost jealous.

Your head whips up.

You blink at the whispered words, barely above a breath. Maybe you heard wrong. It’s hard to tell, the way Snow gauges you, that subtle smile still decorating his handsome face.

He asks you trivial questions about how you’re settling in and how you’re enjoying your life in the Capitol. You answer every time, ignoring the chill dancing at the base of your spine.

His scrutiny swells your unease.

So as soon as the conversation veers away from you and towards the topics of lawmaking and taxes, you snatch the opportunity to excuse yourself.

You give an apologetic smile to your husband.

“Henry, maybe I should go. I’m not feeling too hot.”

He scowls at you. “You want us to leave already?” Disappointment bleeds in his tone. A thick layer of shame settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re being a bad wife.

“You can stay, even if I go,” you try to offer.

“There’s still so many people we haven’t talked to…” Henry argues.

You deflate. You suppose it would be uncouth to leave too early.

To your surprise, President Snow’s smooth lilt interjects, “If your wife is unwell, you both should go.”

You gape at him. A strange glint bounces in his cerulean orbs and unease flutters through you once more. 

Henry sighs, grabbing your hand.

“Alright. I’ll go fetch the car.” 

He gives the blond a formal salute before dragging you away.

As the two of you leave, the heat of Snow’s attention prickles along your spine.

“Did he say something to you?”

Gasping, you turn to your husband. He pointedly looks at you and you shift awkwardly in the passenger seat. 

“What?” you say, taken aback by his sudden question. 

He studies you for a while before his gaze drifts back to the road.

“Snow. He said something to you, didn’t he?”

Your chest clenches. Faking nonchalance, you shrug and reply lightly, “Just a joke but I didn’t understand it.”

The days soar by, humdrum and uneventful. You file away the strange moment at the gala and return to your everyday life. Henry occupies most of your time but when you’re not catering to him, you tend to the house and read. And during stolen moments…you play and sing. Henry doesn’t know, of course. It’s a life you left behind, or are supposed to at least. 

You’re the wife of a Capitol official, not some District balladeer peddling song for coin.

But you can’t help it. 

Singing reminds you of home. Of endless green meadows and lazy afternoons by the river. Your life from before may have been uncertain but you find yourself missing it at times. Missing the freedom to do and act as you pleased.

An orphan like so many others, the Covey were the only family you ever knew. Then you met Henry. Henry who spoke so sweetly to you and gazed at you with warm brown eyes. And he became your family. He didn’t care that you were from a District or that your manners were lacking. He embraced you.

And now you wish to support him in all that he does. Even if it means tossing away parts of yourself.

The front door cracks open, halting the path of the needle between your fingers. A smile blooms on your lips as you place Henry’s shirt on a nearby table. You can resume fixing the buttons on it later. You rise from the armchair and make your way to him. You help him out of his coat, noting the excitement radiating off his frame.

He’s not usually this ecstatic after a day of work. You tilt your head in puzzlement.

He hugs you before announcing, “We have a guest tomorrow, a very important guest.”

“Oh,” you reply, tamping down your concern. The apartment isn’t exactly ready for guests, much less important ones. The fridge needs to be stocked and the furniture requires thorough dusting.

“Yes, I was mentioning what a wonderful cook you are and he said he hasn’t had a home cooked meal in a while.”

“Who?” you ask, your curiosity peaking.

“President Snow,” Henry replies with a victorious grin.

Dread and confusion collide inside you. Why would President Snow visit you and your husband of all people? While Henry’s been rising in ranks quite fast, you can’t picture the leader of the country making time for people like you.

But you don’t voice these thoughts, instead you inquire, “Are you sure my cooking will be enough for him? His palate is used to those fancy meals at the Capitol.”

He cradles your face and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t doubt yourself, honey. You’re an amazing cook.”

“I just don’t want to let you down,” you confess, anxiously chewing on your lip.

“You won’t,” he assures. His chestnut gaze dives into yours. “This could be a great opportunity for us. Imagine what being close to Snow could do for our lives. He could promote me. We could even move to a bigger place.”

Your brows knit. “I love our place.”

Henry laughs. “Yes but the day we expand our family, you have to admit it’ll be a little small.”

You peer at your surroundings. Every corner of the little house harbors a beloved memory. You’d hate leaving it behind, but you suppose he’s right. You might outgrow it one day.

Henry frames your chin to draw your focus back to him.

“Just be yourself,” he says. “Your kind, sweet, wonderful self and all will be well.”

Nodding, you give a feeble smile.

“Understood.”

The next day is spent meticulously cleaning every inch of the house. For hours you’re anxious, wondering what to say or do, how to behave. You don’t have the natural wit and charm to impress someone like Coriolanus Snow. You keep worrying you’ll speak out of turn and embarrass Henry. Preparing dinner is the only time your mind is at rest. You stir the vegetables in the stew, smiling as the delectable scent fills your nostrils. It’s simmered for hours to create a rich flavor. It’s only your second time trying this recipe so you’re a bit nervous. Henry adored it but he’s your husband. You don’t know if President Snow’s delicate taste buds will find your meals to his liking.

You’re slightly more confident about your strawberry cake. While you struggled with it at first, the frosting never quite coming out the way you wanted, it’s now turned into one of your specialties.

The doorbell rings and you freeze. You glance up at the clock hanging near the stove. Already? Time has flown and you didn’t notice.

As you approach the door, you smooth out the wrinkles in your apron and straighten your spine. You take a deep breath before opening the door. 

A wobbly smile cants your lips upwards. 

“President Snow, it’s an honor,” you greet cheerfully.

The tall blond crosses the threshold after your husband. You take him in, trying to girdle your apprehension. He casts an imposing figure with his slicked back silver locks and tailored purple suit, the signature white rose pinned to his left breast pocket as always.

An aura of authority seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“Please, the honor is mine,” Snow says. His sky gaze roams across the living room. His expression is unreadable and you feel a bit self-conscious. It’s likely not as luxurious as what he’s used to. But to your surprise, he looks right at you and says, “What a lovely abode.”

His nose twitches as he hums, “I smell something heavenly, for me perhaps?”

You nod.

“I made beef stew.”

“Wonderful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. 

“Shall we sit?” Henry says, escorting him to the dining room.

You rush to the kitchen and throw your apron on a chair. Inhaling a lungful of nerve, you slip on gloves and grab the pot from the stove. Slowly, you bring out the food. Your skin tingles with the weight of Snow’s eyes on you. 

You ladle out the stew on each plate. When you circle the table to serve Snow, you feel the faintest brush of fingertips over your hip. You flinch.

When you look at him, an almost imperceptible smile hovers on his lips. You blink and it almost seems like it’s gone, as if you dreamt the entire instant. The ladle wavers in your hand.

Did he mean to do that? Once again, you question your own senses, your sanity. It was a fleeting touch, the accidental kind that occurs everyday. But somehow your nerves are agitated with this mere, insignificant second.

Quickly, you round the table and plop down in the chair next to your husband. He squeezes your hand beneath the table, his brown gaze spelling “good job”. Relief sits inside you. You spent all day agonizing over every aspect of tonight so it’s nice to know Henry appreciates your efforts at least.

Everyone starts eating, your husband and Snow engaging in topics you only listen to with half an ear. Instead you focus on your plate, swallowing tiny bites of the stew. 

The flavor is nice and rich, just like you hoped, and pride trickles inside you.

“You’re so silent. Are we boring you?”

Snow’s abrupt statement yanks a sharp gasp from you. Your head snaps up. You realize both he and Henry are staring at you. Your face warms.

“N-No, I just don’t have anything interesting to contribute,” you stammer, your head dipping. 

“My wife has no mind for politics, I’m afraid,” Henry chuckles. 

Your mouth screws shut, your fingers tightening around your spoon. It’s more that your opinions differ vastly and there are things Henry prefers you don’t say aloud.

A crooked smirk blooms on Snow’s lips.

“Ah, a pretty, silent one. I believe you lucked out with this one, Henry.”

Your teeth grind as your brows twitch. Pretty and silent. You don’t know why the words chafe you, cutting into you as deep as a knife. 

You rise from your chair and grab your near empty plate. 

“I should go clean the kitchen,” you announce with a terse smile.

You don’t look back as you walk away, berating yourself with every step.

This isn’t how one should behave in front of him. But you also don’t think you can spend another second in his presence.

You rub the sponge over the top of the stove, satisfaction trickling inside you as the grease and sauce stains are wiped away. You bask in the calm, concentrated on your task. 

A warm breath tickles the shell of your ear.

“You seemed peeved before.”

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl on your heels. Your hand spreads over your chest as your vision is filled with the towering frame of President Snow. His stance is relaxed as he peers at you curiously.

“You scared me…President.”

He ignores your reaction, continuing his statement from before, “When we were discussing the next reaping.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t peeved.”

“Your face, it did that thing.” Your forehead creases. He inches closer. The scent of roses, thick and heady, coats your senses. Your head starts spinning. “Like now. It bothered you.”

Panic flutters through you. This is a man who could have you hanged or jailed for saying the wrong thing. But something about his expression tells you he won’t relent, that he'll only take the truth and nothing else.

So your heart spills out of you.

“In an ideal world, we wouldn’t need the Hunger Games. They are…” You trail off, remembering yourself, who you’re speaking to. You bite down your feelings and go quiet.

But Snow bends over you, crowding your space as your back hits the edge of the stove.

“What? Barbaric? Cruel?” He chuckles and goosebumps rise on your flesh. “But we do need them, dove. Every single year. So the districts never forget their place, and most importantly ours.”

Your lip quakes. Snow’s gaze follows the motion, his lips slanting lopsidedly.

“Such a sweet soul,” he whispers.

He suddenly backs away from you. Air rushes back to your lungs.

“It’s late. I should take my leave. Thank you for a most…enlightening dinner.”

You resume your life and, for a while, everything is normal. Henry doesn’t talk about that night again and neither do you, the both of you bonded by that silent agreement. Maybe he saw Snow talking to you in the kitchen, maybe he didn’t. You’ll never know as he keeps his thoughts to himself, throwing himself into his work and acting like his usual self. 

And if there’s a bit more distance between the two of you in the marital bed, you try not to let it bother you. With time, the strangeness will fade and you and Henry will be back on track, trying for a child and enjoying marital bliss.

Though one evening, things are anything but normal. In fact, the world all but ends.

Your husband peruses the notice letter for rent once more. The blood seems to leave his face.

He runs his fingers through his dark curls.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands resting on his shoulders, your heart skips a beat as you read the neat printed letters.

Rent in your building has doubled overnight. If you and your husband do not pay up by next week, you will be evicted. Houseless.

Hell, you might even be sent back to your district. Your heart plummets to your feet. Your knees buckle underneath you. Henry catches you before you fall, leading you to the sofa as panicked breaths rush through your lungs.

He hunkers in front of you and holds your hands.

“I promise you I’ll find a way. Take out a loan or-”

“A loan we won’t be able to pay back?”

His jaw clenches. “Just let me handle it, okay?”

Though doubts creep inside you, you nod.

The days race along, tension growing each day as the deadline is approaching. Only three days. In just three days, you and your husband will be evicted unless a miracle happens.

And you conclude from the dark circles under Henry’s eyes and the way he barely answers when you speak to him, that he’s as clueless as you are.

There is no solution. Once again, the Capitol and its arbitrary rules strike.

So you come to a decision.

A decision that leads you in front of the biggest mansion in the entire Capitol. President Coriolanus Snow’s house. You suck in a wide lungful, quelling a shudder at the sight of the blue-clad peacekeepers lining the walls.

You stride towards the massive entrance gates. White roses twine around the wrought iron, their thorns seeming as sharp as knives. 

You gather your nerves and lift a tremulous hand towards the intercom.

Before you can even state your matter, a disembodied, feminine voice rises from the device.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks stiffly.

Hasty words pour out of you. “No, but I just need a minute-”

“President Snow doesn’t accept any visitors,” she responds harshly.

Your heart sinks. Of course he doesn’t. It was naive of you to cling to the illusory hope he’d see you anyway. Just for one dinner he likely forgot about. He’s the president. There are crucial matters that perpetually call for his attention. A myriad of things bigger and more important than a single Capitol citizen’s rent issues.

Still, you elect to try again, remembering the imminent deadline.

“Please,” you beg. “It’s very important.”

A distorted sigh ripples from the intercom.

“If you do not leave the premises, we will be compelled to remove you from the property, miss.”

One of the peacekeepers posted at the gates looks straight at you, his hand tightening over the rear of his machine gun. A wave of ice spreads through your veins.

You swallow and step back, accepting your defeat. Burning with shame, you start walking away from the mansion.

But you’re hardly a feet away, as the same voice from before erupts again, much softer this time. 

“My apologies, miss. I didn’t realize you were a close friend of President Snow.”

Your jaw hangs slack as you turn.

A woman with long dark hair appears through the open gates.

“Please, follow me,” she says as she approaches you. “The president will see you right away.”

Still steeped in utter shock, you acquiesce. You trail behind her. You can’t help but allow your eyes to wander as the woman escorts you through a dizzying series of hallways. While the front of the mansion is impressive with its lavish gardens and striking architecture, the inside is just as grandiose. You feel small as your gaze rests on all the sculptures and paintings decorating every corner of the house. Everywhere you look, there is something beautiful and eye-catching. The entire house is like a museum, meant to be admired rather than lived in.

Eventually the woman halts in front of a mahogany door. She tugs on the brass handles and stands to the side, making room for you to walk in. You mumble ‘thank you’ under your breath as you stumble inside the office.

President Snow’s blue eyes crinkle when they rest on you.

“Hello, dove. Why don’t you have a seat?” he offers, pointing at the chair before his desk. 

Licking your lips, you do as he says. Despite the softness of the plush upholstery you sit on, your nerves flare up. You had an entire speech ready, one you practiced on the way here. 

But now that you’re here, his intense focus pinned on you, you’re at a loss. 

Shaky words trickle out of your mouth.

“President Snow. I know you must be so busy…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupts, leaning back in his leather chair. “I always find time for my friends.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“T-That’s a relief to hear,” you stammer.

A maid brings a kettle and biscuits on a silver platter. 

“Tea?” Snow asks as he picks up the kettle.

“No, thank you.”

As Snow pours himself a cup, you ponder your next words. You don’t want to seem greedy but you can’t think of an elegant way to state your purpose.

So you settle for the truth.

“I came because…my husband and I are in a bit of trouble.”

Snow scrutinizes you for a while. Your stomach tightens. 

He then gives a sluggish nod, bending forwards as his fingers lace together.

“Do tell me everything, dove.”

You do exactly that. Snow is silent as your trembling voice fills his office. No word leaves his mouth while he listens. You don’t skip out a single detail, making a point to emphasize what consequences could befall upon you and your husband should you fail to meet the deadline. 

When you’re done, he sips from his tea cup and hums, “How unfortunate.”

“Can’t it be undone? I mean, couldn’t you…”

He chuckles along the porcelain rim of his cup. “I’m not responsible for every law and charter. I approve them, of course, but there are committees, councils. Each law serves the betterment of Panem as a whole. I can’t undo what has been done. I mean, how would this look to the rest of the Capitol? Like I have a different set of rules for my friends? I have to look impartial.” Heaving out a deep sigh, he sets his cup down.  “Apologies, dove, my hands are tied.”

The world seems to collapse around you. Your stomach sinks.

You surmise it was too big an ask, even for the President of Panem. You can’t expect special treatment. It was silly of you to even come hoping for anything resembling that.

You were foolish. Now you must collect the pathetic remnants of your dignity and take your leave.

Gulping down the tears pressing at the back of your eyes, you nod. 

“I’m sorry I asked,” you croak, already beginning to rise from your chair.

His deep lilt pauses your motion.

“But I suppose…there could be a solution. An alternative.”

Your brow furrows as you drop back on the chair.

“An alternative?”

“I could cover the difference.”

Your mouth nearly hits the floor. Snow using his own funds to help? It could be the very miracle you and your husband waited for. You would have to pay him back over time, of course. But for now, it would allow you and Henry to keep the apartment.

It’s a godsend.

“You would do that for us?” you mutter, shock stealing your air.

His reply is nonchalant. “Yes. I’d simply file it under my own personal investments.” Slanting his head sideways, he studies you. “I’d just ask for a small favor in exchange.”

“A favor?”

You wonder what kind of favor you could do for someone like Coriolanus Snow, the man who has everything and more. Gaping at him, you wait for him to elaborate.

He leans forward, crossing his arms over his desk.

“It’s not much but it would mean the world to me. The house needs some upkeep. Just a few light chores here and there. No cleaning, of course; I have an entire staff in charge of that. But the garden needs tending.” His inflection softens as he takes you in. “A home cooked meal every now and then would be nice, and I might sometimes ask you to join me for tea and conversation…” Mirth sways in his cerulean orbs. “As dreadful as that may sound.”

You move your head in assent.

“I think I can do that. But w-why me?”

He gives a long exhale, resting his jaw in his hand.

“Honestly dove? You’d be the one doing me a favor. All day, I’m surrounded by vultures.” Snow rolls his eyes skyward. “Sycophants who placate me with false smiles and honeyed lies.” His tone warms when his gaze falls back on you. “I simply wish to return home to someone genuine, someone who would never lie to me. And you wouldn’t, would you?”

“W-What?”

“Lie to me.”

Your skin heats under his scrutiny. 

Trying not to squirm, you sputter, “Never, sir.”

“Music to my ears,” the young president croons.

It’s not sounding like more work than what you do at home. You can already hear Henry’s discontent echoing in your head. You won’t have as much time for him. That too will be yet another adjustment.

But what other option is there? Even the family of four above yours had to move, unable to keep up with the sudden rent increase. You and Henry could be next.

“I…W-When do I start?”

The corners of Snow’s lips tug upwards.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“You’re going to work for him?”

Henry’s displeasure ripples through you. You twine your hands and cast him an apologetic look. He despises that you went behind his back; you know that. But Henry ran himself ragged trying to come up with a solution. You didn’t want him to carry the burden on his own. That is not what a marriage is.

“He needs a housekeeper, of sorts. And he paid this month’s rent and the next upfront.”

Henry’s brows crumple. “Still, that’s…” Shoulders sagging, he crashes onto the sofa. The built-up exhaustion of the last few days seems to return all at once. You know he hasn’t slept a wink this whole week. Heart squeezing, you join his side and cradle his hand in your lap. Henry’s voice is dripping with shame and regret. “The entire reason I moved us here is so you never have to want for anything, so you wouldn’t have to work or suffer another day in this life.” His head dips. “I failed you.”

You cup his face, plunging your eyes into his.

“You didn’t fail me. And I won’t suffer. Sometimes life throws you lemons and you just have to squeeze those suckers dry.”

A hollow chuckle slips through his lips.

You run your thumbs over his growing beard.

"Listen, I know this wasn’t in our plans, but it’s just for now. In time, we’ll figure something out but I have to do this.” You lean your forehead against his. “For us.”

“Okay,” he belatedly concedes. He pulls your hands to his chest, kissing your knuckles.

“Just come home when you’re done.”

“I will,” you promise. 

The first day slogs forth without a hitch. A car picks you up in the morning and drops you off at President Snow’s estate. The dark-haired woman from before welcomes you, introduces you to the staff and walks you through your duties. You learn her name is Ariadne. 

You spend most of the day busy in the garden and library. Snow’s garden of roses might be one of the hidden treasures of Panem. Taking care of it is a pleasure and you even give yourself some minutes to bask in the sun’s warmth. 

The library shelves need dusting and you tend to this task as well, humming familiar tunes to yourself while working. It is no harm if no one is around to hear you sing. 

You don’t get bored as there’s always a task requiring your attention in the massive house. 

When stars begin to dust the darkening sky, you rush to the kitchen. You get started on dinner. Staff members give you space to work and you’re grateful. You don’t like being ogled while you cook. You marvel at the gold, high-end appliances as you knead your dough. The kitchen is pristine, like everything else in the house. You settle for something simple, hearty and warm. There is no point in pretending you’re some fancy chef when you’re not. If it’s what Snow desired, he’d have hired one. There’s a plethora of them in the Capitol for him to choose from after all. And they’d all line up outside his house in a heartbeat if he requested it.

You stand nervous, hands folded in your lap as the meal you prepared is brought out onto silver plates. You spent hours on it. Hopefully he likes it.

“This smells like heaven,” Snow purrs.

He then points at the chair next to his on the long table.

“Have a seat.”

Your eyes bulge. Not only are you stunned by his request, as there are so many other chairs on the gigantic dinner table, but you were hoping to return home to Henry once dinner was served.

 “Oh, I thought…”

He smiles at you. “I hate dining alone.”

You consider arguing. But as you remember all that you owe him, your mouth squeezes shut. You give a meek nod and drag your feet to the chair.

“Of course.”

You pick up your knife and fork…one of the knives and forks. You choose at random, unsure what purpose each of the cutlery items serves.

A smile waltzes upon Snow’s lips as he watches you. Shame pools in your gut. You feel like you’re making a fool of yourself.

He takes a bite of food and hums low in his throat, his eyes closing.

“Your cooking never fails to amaze, dove,” he lauds. Blue eyes search your face. “Are you hiding other talents from me?”

Your eyes lock onto your napkin, following the swirl of the flower patterns sewn in the corners. “I don’t think so,” you mumble.

Dinner continues in silence, only occasionally shattered by Snow’s sounds of delight and words of praise. Your own bites are small. While you’re glad it turned out the way you wanted, you’d rather save your appetite for home.

When a maid brings tea after the meal, Snow raises a dismissive hand.

“We’ll have tea and cakes in the study,” he announces.

Your face scrunches. “But it’s getting late. I should-”

“I must insist,” he interrupts. He rises from his seat and offers you his outstretched hand. 

His smile broadens.

“You would rob me of your company so swiftly, dove? How cruel of you.”

Reluctantly, you accept the hand he gives you. He helps you out of your chair and motions at you to follow him.

The both of you end up in his study, sitting by the fire. Tea is placed on the small table between you. Coriolanus takes a slow sip while you fiddle with your hands.

His cerulean gaze locks with yours.

“That song you were humming earlier.”

Your chest seizes.

The loud thudding of your heart fills your ears. You swallow thickly. 

“A song?”

“Yes,” he says absently, adding another spoonful of sugar to his cup. He gives a small stir before bringing it to his lips again. “I heard it as I walked by the library.”

You try not to let your panic show, cloaking yourself in false nonchalance. You thought you were discreet, quiet almost.

“Ah, that. It’s nothing,” you elude.

“No, it was lovely. You have the voice of an angel.” 

The compliment leaves you speechless.

But his next words tie your stomach in knots.

“I want to hear it again.”

“I don’t really…perform for audiences.”

“You mean since you left the Covey?”

Mouth agape, you stare at him. How did he find out? You don’t remember ever bringing it up. In fact, you wouldn’t. You expend great effort to hide your past on a daily basis.

Your reaction draws a snort from him. Amusement bounces in his orbs.

“Come on, dove, that accent…It might fool others but not me.”

“I don’t sing anymore,” you state firmly. 

Even if you did, you wouldn’t do it for Coriolanus Snow. Not of your own free will.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His inflection becomes sharp, all softness evanescing. “Remember when I told you that I hated lies?” His pointed gaze sends chills through your body. “Sing for me, dove.”

Your mouth goes dry as sand. 

You understand his words for what they are. An order from your president. A strange order…but an order nonetheless.

You don’t get to refuse. You’re to sing for him, whether it pleases you or not.

Like a bird in a cage.

So you do it. Your lips fall open and clear, soft notes rise out of you. A traditional song your mother taught you. It tells the story of a girl who meets a boy with ocean eyes, how she drowns in them but the fall is like rising to heaven. 

As your voice fills his office, Snow’s scorching gaze doesn’t leave you.

When the song is done, he doesn’t applaud or praise you.

Instead, his eyes bear into you for what feels like an eternity. You try not to move, though your heart thunders in your chest. 

“See, was that so hard?” he asks, that cocky smile still adorning his lips. You don’t reply, your throat ablaze. It felt as if you didn’t belong to yourself just then. And it terrifies you. He slides your untouched cup towards you. “Drink your tea before it gets cold. Then, you can go home.”

Without a protest, you lift the cup to your mouth. One measly cup of tea and you’ll get to go home. Then this uncomfortable evening can end. Finally.

But as the liquid trickles inside your mouth, tendrils of darkness lurk in your vision. Your body gets heavier. So heavy you can’t hold the cup anymore, or even yourself. The porcelain dish vanishes from your hands. You sag into your chair.

Progressively, colors dim around you. 

Then sleep drags you down into a rabbit hole of utter oblivion. And all is blackness.

Softness like you’ve never felt before greets you when you awake. Like being embraced by fluffy clouds. For a while, you linger in the comfortable sensation, humming against the plush blankets. But as your eyes land on the thin slice of sunlight spilling from the window, you unleash an audible gasp. 

You bolt in a sitting position. 

Your eyes widen as you find Ariadne observing you between the velvet curtains at the end of the bed.

Gripping the side of your head, you glance at your surroundings. Clearly, you’re in a room. But how did you wind up here? No matter how hard you try, you can’t summon a single memory from last night.

“Ariadne? What happened?” 

She circles the bed to take a seat next to you. Her gentle tone alleviates your rising panic.

“You fell asleep,” she explains. “Master Snow brought you here so you can get some proper rest.” 

You sigh. It does make sense. Though you can’t stamp out the trickle of embarrassment sitting inside you with that knowledge. You dozed off on the job, on your first day. Hopefully, Snow isn’t too offended. 

“I must have been more tired than I thought,” you mutter, looking down.

“He’s gone now; he had urgent business at the Justice Building. But he insisted you eat a proper meal before you go.” She points at the golden food cart near the bed, every tray brimming with pastries, fruits, meats and cheeses. Way more than you could eat in a single meal.

The kind of decadent abundance the Capitol likes to indulge in. 

You politely decline. 

“I can’t…I have to return to my husband. He must be worried sick.”

Ariadne puts a hand on your arm.

“Word has been sent to him that you were simply tending to Master Snow’s needs last night.”

You purse your lips. It’s not ideal but at least he knows you were working. 

“Good,” you reply, nodding.

You yank the blanket off your body, determined to stand up and leave. But as soon as you’re on your feet, you crash back down on the bed, a strange ache awakening in your limbs.

Your forehead creases. You hug your stomach, a vicious cramp creeping there too.

Ariadne’s immediately at your side, placing her hands over your arms.

“Take it easy, miss,” she warns. “You exerted yourself a great deal yesterday.” She beams brightly. “In fact, Master Snow has given you a few days off. He was very satisfied with your work and expects you in three days’ time.”

Your brows rise. “Oh, that’s very generous.”

Her grin expands.

“He is exceedingly pleased with your performance.”

Over the next few weeks, Snow keeps summoning you sporadically. The days you work for him are pretty much the same. You attend to your daily tasks, you cook for him and then the two of you have tea in his study. He has you sing for him sometimes. You’ve learnt to swallow your feelings and perform according to his whim. You don’t even sing to yourself anymore, the exultation you drew from it all but gone. It was a way to stay connected to your Covey roots, to keep your family close to your heart. Now you can’t do it without his icy gaze invading your thoughts.

You often end up incredibly tired on those days, your body aching and sore for hours afterwards. You never imagined working for Coriolanus Snow would drain you so much. Falling asleep in his house even turns into a regular occurrence, happening almost every time you show up for work.

Naturally, Henry isn’t thrilled with that. Every time you come back home, too tired to wait on him hand and foot like you used to, his displeasure grows.

But he’s also yet to find a way to fix the issue, so the two of you must keep working. You’ve already sold everything that you could, clothes, any belonging of slight value. 

The gap is still too vast. 

And the city won’t allow you to apply for another place to live, claiming the waitlist is already sky-high.

Though you resent it, Coriolanus Snow is your only hope.

“You’re not in charge of dinner tonight,” Ariadne announces one night as you fire the stove.

You turn the burners off, your eyes rounding.

“I’m not?” 

A bright smile blooms on the brunette’s face.

“Master Snow is inviting you to dine with him as his guest, to express gratitude for your outstanding work.”

Your lips part in surprise. In the many weeks you’ve worked for President Snow, this has never happened. You have shared meals, of course, but you’ve never received such a formal invitation.

You suppose it’s all a game to Snow, and he simply changes the rules whenever he feels it.

She astonishes you further when she urges you to follow her to one of the guest bedrooms.

Utter dismay fills you.

A white dress lies atop the bed. The sleeveless evening gown looks more expensive than any dress you’ve ever laid eyes on. The delicate white silk flares at the waist, the gigantic, fluffy layered skirt making your head spin already. You imagine how hard it'd be to move in such a dress. Though you surmise it won’t be too much of a concern as you only need to sit through dinner with it.

“Master Snow expects you to wear this tonight,” Ariadne chimes.

She helps you slip on the dress, a task you undoubtedly would have struggled to complete on your own, the many layers of tulle, silk and lace of the huge skirt alone their own challenge.

Eventually, you’re dressed. 

She escorts you to the dinner room. Curious eyes dart about the halls, noting their unusual emptiness. Not a single footman, maid or Avox in sight. 

You’re alone.

“The house is very quiet,” you point out.

Ariadne beams at you from above her shoulder.

“The entire staff’s been sent home. Master Snow wants to wait on you himself tonight.”

Your stomach knots, a foreboding feeling swelling within you.

Still, you glide forward. It’s a little late to turn back.

When you enter the diner room, Snow’s face lights up. He makes his way to you. As usual, he’s dashing, his platinum blonde locks neatly combed back and his crimson suit highlighting his tall frame.

His gaze twinkles as he drinks you in. 

“You’re a vision, dove.” He lifts your hand and brushes his lips over your knuckles. His eyes slam into yours. Time seems to hang still for a few seconds. “As I know you would be.”

Keeping your hand in his, he escorts you to your seat. He pulls your chair for you and you fumble with your skirt a little before finding a comfortable way to sit. 

“So…no maids today?” you say lightly. 

His lips slant. He removes the lid off one of the pots. The mouthwatering smell instantly reaches you. 

“I thought it’d be nicer to enjoy a quiet, private dinner together, as a way to celebrate.”

Your face contorts into a puzzled expression. 

“Celebrate?”

“Your last day as my housekeeper,” he replies cheerfully.

Your heart misses a beat. Is he firing you?

You attempt to tamp down the quake in your voice. You fail miserably.

“Really?”

He gauges you and his smile grows.

“Yes. In fact, you and your husband will never have to worry about rent anymore. Him  especially. Everything’s settled.”

An audible exhale slips through your mouth. 

“This is…I don’t know what to say.”

“You can say thank you.”

“Thank you, President Snow.”

His laugh resonates in the near empty dining room.

“Please, call me Coriolanus.” He ladles soup onto your plate before bending close. You tense as his warm breath ghosts over your temple. “We’re quite…close now, aren’t we, dove?”

You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“I suppose we are…Coriolanus.”

You wince. Uttering his name feels wrong, forbidden almost.

Satisfaction doesn’t part from his handsome features as he regains his seat. He gestures for you to start eating. You feel a bit self-conscious as he observes you intently. 

Still, you do as he heeds, not needing to be told twice. 

The quicker you eat, the quicker you’ll get to be home and out of the uncomfortable dress. 

You groan as your lids flutter, a blurry shape rocking back and forth in your vision. Fatigue tugs at your heavy limbs as you stir. Your forehead scrunches. Your body’s hot, like a furnace, like you’re burning from the inside out. Tingles spark somewhere in you and you keen sharply, leaning into the sensation. Feverish whispers surround you, words you don’t comprehend in your daze.

The pull and tear. The pleasure mingling with the pain. You’re in a strange dream, maybe a nightmare.

Deep-chested grunts land in your ears. You awake further. It’s a voice you recognize, from somewhere…but not like this. Never like this. Something’s wong. Your forehead wrinkles. Something’s wrong but you’re so tired. So so tired. Your mind’s like cotton. Your limbs are as rocks.

As your lids sag, something slams into you. Fast, hard and vicious.

Your heart bounces. Your eyes snap open.

Your stomach drops.

A sinister smile you know too well by now welcomes you.

“Hello, dove. Awake, finally,” Snow whispers, his hips snapping into yours. Your breath catches as his cock grazes against your sweet spots. You clench around him and he chuckles darkly. “That angle always does it for you.” Smugness oozes off his hoarse timbre.

You look up at him. Sweat dots his brow, his tousled blonde locks clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes are cloudy with lust. His white shirt is half open, revealing a glimpse of the bare, glistening muscles underneath.

And as your gaze travels lower, horror flares inside you.

You gape with wide eyes as his veiny length disappears inside you. Again and again. The fluffy white shirt is bunched around your waist, your panties torn, exposing your lower body to President Snow’s lewd scrutiny entirely. His large hands dig into your hips, trailing crescent bruises in the shape of his fingernails.

Your shocked gaze finds his.

His smile expands.

“P-President Snow, what are you doing?” 

You know it’s a stupid question…but you have to make sense of this. Because none of this can be real. Maybe it’s a nightmare and you’re still sleeping.

You gasp as he pushes you into the mattress, piledriving into you at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“Taking what’s mine, of course,” he says matter-of-factly, hooking his arm under your thigh.

He lifts you and spreads you even more. His darkened gaze follows the motion of his cock as he pounds into you, an insatiable look twisting his handsome features. 

Reaching between your tangled bodies, he pinches your tender heap of nerves. He rubs against it, teasing it with maddening circles until your legs quake. You come apart beneath him, crying out as your back arches against the soft sheets.

“Please, stop,” you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes.

Snow’s pace quickens. Ragged moans tear from your throat. Your vision flickers.

He bends over you to lick one of your tears, humming in satisfaction at the taste. 

His lips drag against yours as he asks, “Is it truly what you want? Because it’s kind of hard to tell the way your pussy hugs my cock.” His mouth curves upward against your cheek. “Like it does every time.”

A wave of ice spreads through you. 

Every time? Realization hits you, knife-like as it pierces through the veil of denial. 

Every time…

The pieces fall into place as you remember all those times you fell asleep, unable to recall how you ended up in bed. Tired, confused…sore.

A shudder shoots through your frame.

You twist your body as panic seizes you.

Coriolanus growls when you clamber away from him, heading for the edge of the bed. You curse the pesky gown and the way it hinders your movements.

He yanks you back with ease, gripping the back of your head and shoving you down into the mattress.

Lips graze your earshell as he snarls, “Where are you going? We’re not done. We have to make sure you carry the next Snow heir.” In one stroke, he sinks into you from behind. You choke on your breath, the pain snatching your air. With one hand cinched around the back of your neck, he starts rutting into you. Your bruised folds ache at the blunt invasion. Still, your core clings to him in a way that stirs shame in your gut. “Although after all these times…” You hear the smile in his conceited inflection “It’s a given, isn’t it?”

Your eyes swell with tears. Your lips part in a silent scream. The sick song of flesh against flesh fills the room, mingling with his feral moans. 

Each time your walls tighten around him, bile rises up your throat. 

“What have you done to me?” you sob against the drenched silk sheets.

“Oh, I think you know,” he purrs. His warm breath fans over your scalp. “You can feel it, can’t you? How well your body knows me now, dove.”

His hips stutter, his thrusts getting sloppier. His cock twitches inside you. As warmth trickles alongside your walls, you feel sick again. He remains nestled inside you a while, panting above you and shoving the excess back in as you remain still.

As you feel his digits poke and prod, a chill runs through you. 

You can’t let him touch you again.

You keel over the edge of the bed, heading straight towards the floor. Pain ripples through your knees as they hit the carpet. You’re forced to ignore the crack resounding through your bones, awkwardly getting to your feet and dashing to the wooden swing doors.

Coriolanus’ wicked laugh echoes behind you. 

“Oh, dove, if you wanted to play hide and seek, all you needed to do was to ask,” he taunts.

Terror grips your throat. You ignore it alongside everything else. Alongside the pain, alongside the uncertainty, alongside the fact that you can still feel him inside you. Like you never left the bed. Like you’re still caged in his embrace.

Your legs carry you, barefoot and panicked, as you run through the palatial hallways as fast as the bothersome white dress will allow.

The president’s deep voice bounces against the ornate walls.

“Ready or not, here I come, my darling.”

The blood rushes to your feet. Your head spins and your feet tangle. You trip. Immediately, you gather yourself. You lift the skirt and dive hastily towards the living room. You duck behind a sofa. 

It’s a pathetic place to hide; you know it. But the lavish mansion is nothing but open spaces doused in sunlight. 

There is nowhere to hide.

The clamor of your heart is deafening in your ears as you hear objects crash to the floor a few feet away from you. Hand over your mouth to keep every sound in, you jerk every time the racket grows on the other side of the sofa. 

His frustration coats the air.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, dove,” he calls, his tone icier than before.

You freeze, holding your breath and wishing he doesn’t think to look where you are.

The minutes pass, agonizingly slow. The flimsy hope that he may have left even begins to bloom inside you.

Hot air suddenly breezes over your nape.

“Found you.” 

Your heart leaps to your throat. You go still. Coriolanus hauls you from the floor, half-carrying you and half-lugging you across the living room. You try to bite and claw any part of him you can reach but his hand locks around your throat.

He slams you harshly against a wall. Your head rings, the lines of his face momentarily doubling in your vision. You bite his hand. Cursing under his breath, he bangs your head against the wall again. You go limp.

Through your hazy sight, you note the scarlet trail streaking the back of his hand. You drew blood. Even if you’re lost, you bask in the ephemeral second of victory.

He carries your unmoving form the rest of the way back to his bedroom. You loathe yourself for your stillness. You want to put up a fight. You want to claw. You want to bite. You want to kill him with your bare hands. 

But all you can do is simmer in helplessness as he brings you right back to the very place you tried to escape.

He gently releases you on the bed then climbs over you. Goosebumps erect on your flesh as he caresses the side of your face, a strangely fond gesture considering everything he put you through.

“Please,” you mumble weakly. “You can have anyone you want. I have a husband.”

His face contorts into an expression of pure mockery, as if what you said was beyond ludicrous.

“I don’t want just anyone.” He lifts your chin, scorching blue gaze diving into yours. “I want you.”

“As for your husband…” His voice trails off as he traces your trembling bottom lip with his thumb. A crooked smirk drags his lips skyward. He leans over you to whisper, “Well I did say he’ll never have to worry about rent ever again, didn’t I?”

Your heart sinks. You can’t believe you trusted Coriolanus Snow. A foolish mistake. A dangerous mistake. One you’re now paying dearly. He not only trapped you…he also hurt Henry.

All because of you.

You will never forgive yourself.

“What did you do to him?” you ask, anger and heartbreak making your voice wobble.

A chill-inducing glint dances in his orbs.

“I haven’t done anything.” He cocks his head. “Rebels are criminals of the state and shall be sentenced as such.”

The world collapses around you.

A chasm of despair swallows you whole as quiet tears stream down your face.

As sobs shake your frame, President Snow plants soft kisses on your wet cheeks. You feel him grow hard against your belly as he hums, as if the taste of your hopelessness was ambrosia to him. Heavenly sweet.

He cups your face.

“Do not fret, dove. I’ll make sure you don’t miss a second of his execution.” The emptiness of his blue eyes staggers you, their depths as icy as a frozen lake. “It’s important for all citizens of Panem to learn from watching.”

The expression on his face turns downright diabolical. His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek.

“And I want you to learn as you watch the light go out in his eyes, dove, that this was inevitable, that I always win.”

His tone softens as his hands drag over your hips.

“I wonder how many children you’ll give me. Will they all sing as pretty as you?” The hurried rustle of his pants as he frees his cock freezes your blood. He bites his lip, lust already misting his gaze as he prods impatiently at your entrance.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out,” he croons.

[eloves-writes]

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.