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#im once again telling you to check out

ommmmara · 2 years

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they likea da bee

+ some other clingyduo fanart that i'm too lazy to color

#im once again telling you to check out #clingyduopromptweek #on twitter #my art #art #doodle #digital art #myart #illustration #fanart #dream smp #mcyt #tommyinnit #tubbo #clingyduo #clingy duo

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thelilylav · 1 month

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We only see each other at funerals

(On Jason, Thalia, Nico, Bianca, and their parallels/connections)

The Titan's Curse (Rick Riordan), @/anxiousmaya_, Right Now (Gracie Abrams), The Battle of the Labyrinth (Rick Riordan), Joan of Arc (Mary Gordon), The Lost Hero (Rick Riordan), Episodes Toward and Elegy for Halley's Comet (Lindsey Drager), Jason Grace (Riordan Wiki), The Gods Show Up (Michael Kinnucan), The House of Hades (Rick Riordan), What the Living Do (Marie Howe), The House of Hades (Rick Riordan), Planet of Love (Richard Siken), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), Tangerine (Nolune), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), I Bet On Losing Dogs (Mitski), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), @/abhorarchive (Twitter), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), Seventeen (MARINA), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), @/rollercoasterwords, The Tyrant's Tomb (Rick Riordan), @/the-overanalyst, Where Things Come Back (John Corey Whaley), Grit (Silas Denver Martin), Softcore (The Neighbourhood), The Tower of Nero (Rick Riordan), Frost (Mitski), @/moonbends, I'm Your Man (Mitski), Sun Bleached Flies (Ethel Cain), The Tower of Nero (Rick Riordan), Three (Sleeping At Last), My Art

#nono you don't understand it's about the siblings #it's about how thalia lost jason once only to get him back and lose him again #it's how jason and bianca both walked into their deaths with their eyes wide open #it's about zeus trying to kill nico and bianca and him doing nothing to stop jason from dying #it's about thalia being in the hunters and nico hating her but he knows how to grieve with that kind of loss #so he'll help her. for jason. for bianca. because no one deserves to mourn a sibling alone #like these four barely interact but they're soooo connected i could go on forever #i'm so sad thalia and nico never actually got a scene together after the burning maze #and ALSO #it's about the fact that reyna is one of the most (if not the most) important people left in their lives #LIKE #do you think thalia found out how close nico and reyna were and started watching her more closely #because every person the two of them have shared has ended up six feet under #so reyna gets annoyed with how protective thalia is but she doesn't stop her bc part of her can tell thalia needs it #and nico constantly checks to make sure reyna's life force is still strong #bc he never wants to be caught off guard by a death again #ok im done now i promise #the trials of apollo #trials of apollo #nico di angelo #reyna ramirez arellano #reyna avila ramirez arellano #web weaving #fanart #my art tag #thalia grace #jason grace #percy jackson #percy jackson fanart #bianca di angelo

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atrwriting · 4 months

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future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon

this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!

as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda

informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned

anyways… here is future problems:

he never wanted to get married.

he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.

despised them.

however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.

and it would be you.

he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.

it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.

he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.

however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.

at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.

but then… oh, then…

then he saw your smile.

oh, your smile.

your fucking smile.

the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.

no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.

no one.

when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.

and it was… until he was sick.

it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.

however, he did not expect one problem.

and that would be you.

he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.

he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?

so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.

just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.

he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —

but he couldn’t finish the thought.

because you walked in.

smelling like fucking lilacs.

lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.

however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.

he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.

“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”

“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”

you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.

he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.

“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”

you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”

you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.

he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.

however, he didn’t understand why.

he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?

he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.

and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.

however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?

his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.

he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.

he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!

he had to know. he had to.

to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.

as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.

"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."

you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"

"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."

you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?

"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."

why. why. why.

he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.

he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.

the act would drop. it always did.

the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.

and he fucking hated himself for it.

he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.

but you had kept reading for him.

he grew angry.

when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."

your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.

"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."

you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.

"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.

you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."

she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.

the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.

that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.

that would have to be righted immediately.

he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.

they always slip.

the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.

he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.

how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.

you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.

"good evening," you greeted.

"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.

"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.

he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"

your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."

you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."

you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."

he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"

your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”

your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?

so he went with what was natural: manipulation.

“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”

you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.

“what troubles you?” he asked.

your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.

“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”

“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”

there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.

“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”

your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.

“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”

“please,” he answered and nodded.

you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.

this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.

he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.

you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.

you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.

and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.

for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,

to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.

you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.

after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.

how had he not expected this?

his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.

he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.

he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.

he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.

good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.

he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.

so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.

he hated himself for the lilacs.

he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.

however, it didn’t.

all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.

she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.

he knew what he had to do.

he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.

he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.

he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.

you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”

“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.

“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”

you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.

“how do you like his new book?” you asked.

coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”

you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”

he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.

“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”

you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”

“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”

you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”

“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.

you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”

now was the time.

“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”

you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.

damn, he thought. didnt bite.

“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.

you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”

he nodded.

“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”

“i don’t understand.”

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”

your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.

“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.

there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”

your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.

“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.

“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”

“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.

“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”

it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.

“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”

“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”

you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed

you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.

there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?

he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.

once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.

when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”

“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”

he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.

oh.

you invited him in to… to…

that he had not expected.

before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.

once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.

you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.

what was he to do?

he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.

the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.

would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?

you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.

he reasoned a reward was in order.

he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.

the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.

then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.

those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.

however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.

he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.

“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”

coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.

coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.

“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”

your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”

his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.

“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“

he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.

he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.

“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.

your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”

“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.

you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.

“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“

coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”

he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.

just this once, you both thought. just this once.

his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.

with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.

corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.

he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”

he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.

he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”

you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”

his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”

“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.

his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”

“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”

bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.

it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.

“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”

he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”

you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.

holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.

he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.

you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.

a low hum filled his chest.

you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.

that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.

maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.

you had to do something.

"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."

he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.

you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.

"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."

your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.

"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.

"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."

you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."

he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"

you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."

he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"

"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."

"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.

you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.

“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”

there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.

he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.

in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.

“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.

your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.

with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.

shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.

his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.

“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”

you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

he cocked an eyebrow.

“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”

corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…

oh… you were done for.

one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.

the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.

“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”

his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.

“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”

“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”

“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”

“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.

the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —

“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”

tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —

“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“

there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.

“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”

“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”

you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.

it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.

tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.

his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.

“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”

you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“

“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.

you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“

he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.

“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”

you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”

he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”

you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."

you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”

“i promise,” you returned.

you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.

everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.

"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"

"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"

you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.

you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.

he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.

you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.

"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."

again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...

that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.

"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."

his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."

your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."

corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.

"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."

"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."

his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"

"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"

corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.

when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.

he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.

"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."

corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"

you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."

he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."

---

love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u

-L xooxoxooxox

#corio smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #corio snow smut #corio fic #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #corio snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fic #coriolanus imagine #corio imagine #the hunger games #lucy gray #sejanus plinth #young coriolanus snow

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leeflms · 4 months

Text

"𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘"

synopsis: claiming you as his prize for tonight.

warnings: suggestive, kinda NSFW???, making out, racer!wriothesley, user is GENDER NEUTRAL

author's note: as soon as I saw the new art of wriothesley I just knew I had to write about him,, I might make another part of this if I feel like it ^^ IM SO SORRY IF THERES ANY MISTAKES WITH THE GRAMMAR I WROTE THIS AT LIKE 1 AM AND FELT TOO LAZY TO CHECK IF THERE'S ANY ERRORS

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Wriothesley was at the garage along with the his team. He had his race suit hanging around his waist, showing off the fireproof top that he has underneath the suit. He watched as his mechanics checked up on his car, to ensure that there won't be any problems once he's on the circuit.

It's clear that he's nervous, he had an anxious frown on his face. And as his lover, of course you'd have to comfort and reassure him before the start of the race. You'd always tell him that if he does well in the race, you'll reward him.. it can be any kind of reward, depends on what he wants. And surprisingly, it always works. Just tell him, "If you place first, I'll reward you." And he will win first place. He reminds you of a dog, the way he's willing to do anything if you mention anything about rewarding him.

"Wrio, what's wrong?" You ask, approaching him.

"Nothing. Just nervous." He muttered.

"Why so nervous? It's just a race, you've done this hundreds of times now."

"I know that.. It's just— anything could happen once I'm on the racetrack."

"Well, how about this," You place a hand on his shoulder, coming close to him to whisper into his ear. "If you win this, then I'm all yours tonight."

As you step back, Wriothesley is left with a flustered expression on his face. He let's out a breathy chuckle. "Archons— All of you? The hair, the lips, the body, it's all mine?"

"All yours, love."

And that was all it took for him to be speeding through the circuit, winning the race with ease. As he drove back to his garage's pitstop, there were already a ton of reporters, journalists, and photographers waiting for him there. He couldn't really care less about how they started to rush over to him, asking him questions as he got out of his car.

Their questions fell on deaf ears, Wriothesley walked back into the garage as he took of his helmet, ruffling his messy hair, ignoring the staff that wanted to congratulate him. Currently, the only thing that was on his mind was you. He wanted to see you, he needed to kiss you, he needed to touch you, he needed you as his reward.

He went inside his waiting room, locking the door behind him while his eyes gaze at you.

It didn't take too long before you found yourself pinned to the door, making out with Wriothesley as he unzips his suit and let's it hang around his waist.

Wriothesley breaks the kiss, leaving the both of you panting. He stays so close to you, forehead pressed against yours, looking into your eyes. "You're driving me so crazy.." He murmured into your mouth.

"Shit— We can't do this here.." You saying that served as a reminder for Wriothesley that the two of you are still in the garage, everyone is outside waiting for him, while he's out here desperately kissing you.

"But I want it here, right now." He pressed his lips against yours again, his rough and calloused hands all over your body.

Surely those reporters outside can wait. Wriothesley is still claiming and enjoying his reward, and he's far from done with you.

#leeflms blog #lee's archives #leeflms #genshin impact smut #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley oneshot #oneshot #fanfic #wriothesley fanfic #genshin impact fanfics

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

Note

Hey lady can I request gynecologist Miguel? Tomorrow I’m going to the gynecologist I’m freaking out 😨🥲

fucckkk

i wrote like half of this and then it disappeared so i apologize if it seems lazy or weird it’s cus i hate tumblr

also this is closer to perv!gyno Miguel 😈

ANYWAY!! LETS GET HORNY

“hello. im miguel, i’ll be your doctor today. i know it can be uncomfortable for some women to have a male doctor but we’re understaffed at the moment.”

your nervousness is a part of your bloodstream at this point and the male presence is not helping. “s-so there’s no one else?” you ask timidly, still staring up at the ceiling as you speak, too embarrassed to see the look on his face. you hear a faint chuckle behind you and your nervous sweats start up, sending an uncomfortable shiver through you. “no, sweetheart, i’m sorry. it’s just me.” you nod silently.

his voice is soothing but more nerve wracking at the same time. it’s calming due to how smooth and deep it is but it’s also adding a new worry to your arsenal. he walks around your chair and comes into view. you can’t see his face due the light in your face but you can see how big he is. his broad shoulders almost take up your entire view as he looms over you. you pretend not to feel the way your pushy flutters at his sheer size.

however you’re unable to ignore the way your thighs tense once you can see his features. he has dark curls framing his face, high cheekbones, a defined jaw, dark crimson eyes, and pinkish lips. his eyebrows twitch with a subtle amused smile that makes you feel like he can tell but stays silent.

he turns to his desk, grabs his clipboard, a chair and pulls himself up to the side of your little bed/seat. “so this is just an annual checkup, yes?” you take a deep breath and nod silently before realizing he’s not looking at you. “mhm. yes, yes.” he nods while scribbling something down. he flips one page and his face twitches in confusion. “and—“ he checks another page before flipping back. “and this is your first checkup..?”

his eyes are wide with shock when he looks up at you and you have to avert your gaze to breathe. “uhm… yeah.” his eyes wide even further like he didn’t believe what he was seeing on the papers. “reall—? i mean i- okay.” he shakes his head and takes a deep breath before meeting your eyes again. “i hope you aren’t too nervous” you shrug silently as your stomach churns. he smiles softly and starts the appointment

meow meow meow mini time skip!!

he slides his gloves on and you jump at the snap of the latex. “legs on the stirrups please.” he phrases it like a question but it has the force of a command. you gasp quietly at the cold air on your pussy. he walks around and takes a seat at the edge of the chair, right between your legs. you hear him take a deep breath and fear shoots through you, waiting to be scolded or chastised for something. but he stays silent and just gets to work.

his fingers spread above your pussy, pressing down gently and his thumb covers your clit, immediately starting it’s circling movements. you tense and sit up, about to say something but his face is straight and focused, giving you no signs of foul play.

is this normal? it must be.

you sit back down and he gives a low hum of approval. you try not to squirm or moan as he toys with you. your pussy is suddenly flooding with your slick. you were worried about being too dry in the midst of your nerves and anxiety but now you’re definitely getting too wet.

in truth, miguel doesn’t know what’s come over him. he’s just obsessed with how pretty your pussy is. your soft, plump lips are basically calling to him, your pink nub, pulsing in his face. you’re teasing him. and now— the way your floodgates have opened for him? you’re leaking. so how is it his fault that he has to finger you now?

his gloved hand is prodding at your entrance and pushing in within the minute. you shoot up again but your eyes meet his this time. “is this okay?” he asks with a voice you swear should be in a bedroom setting. you’re breathless, chest is heaving as you stare at him. “w-what?” you ask, baffled by his question. his head tilts and his fingers crook up to press into your g-spot. you yelp and your knees cave in, almost touching as your orgasm builds in your stomach. “are you feeling any… discomfort?”

your eyes almost cross at his teasing tone but instead you shut them and shake your head rigorously. “m-mm. no discomfort.” you let out a whiny breath at the end of your sentence and hold back a beg as you reach the edge.

miguel can see your legs begin to shake, trembling at his sides before tensing and freezing. your eyes are shut tight as you cum on his fingers, squeezing around them rhythmically as your fingers dig into the leather of the seats, leaving little tears from your finger nails. he watches the way your hole clenches around his fingers and pushes out a new load of your essence, making his fingers glisten along with the trail a droplet is leaving on your skin, leading down to your ass and his cover sheet.

he’ll probably have to cut that part out and take it home with him

FUCK I HOPE I DIDN’T BURN MYSELF OUT AGAIN

IM LITERALLY WRITING THIS AT 12:38AM 😭

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klipkillakai · 2 months

Note

that ony clip gave me so many butterflies omg 😩 it lowk reminded me of a punishment like what if homegirl went out for the first time in a while and missed the curfew only gave her but he see on sasha and historia ig she’s drunk shaking her ass on the car or smthn 😭😭

ouuu girl it gave me butterflies too, but you ate so lemme walk with you rq 🤭

ony was sitting on the couch rolling his second blunt while an episode of breaking bad plays in the background, he doesn’t usually get to watch this show because you usually like to watch love island or your ghetto ass reality shows that he pretends not to be invested in—

he glances at the time on his phone noting that you should be home soon and he leans back and lights his blunt, taking a hit and throwing his lighter back on the coffee table

he ticks a hand in his sweats and mindlessly smokes and watches his show, another hour passes and he checks his phone again sending you a quick text

baby moms 💙

-wya?

he quickly leaves the text and clicks on insta checking your story but seeing it hasn’t been updated for 2hrs, he quickly scrolls and finds sasha’s and clicks through them and stopping on a video of you, drunkenly singing a song and twerking on another one of your ghetto ass homegirls, ony smacks his teeth quickly standing up

“this fucking girl man” he walks towards the door, and grabs his keys, slipping on his slides and getting in his car and speeding off while trynna call you..

“bend that ass over let that coochie breathe” you slur while slowly whining on your friend as she takes a video of you guys, your having a fucking good ass time, you haven’t been out in ages and you miss it, you begged ony to let you go.. and after days acting sweet and a few blow jobs, he let you, but with rules of course.. he gave you a curfew which you gladly accepted but quickly broke as soon as you got a few shots in you—

you were feeling bold, who was he to tell you what you could and couldn’t do, he wasn’t your daddy! well… not all the time anyway—

your standing in your section in your own world, sipping on your drink until, you feel someone behind you, and a chill runs up your spine cause you know exactly who it is, you turn around and look up at him

“didnt i tell you to come come after 12?”

your heart sinks a bit “yea but i was having fu-

“i don’t give a fuck, i told yo lil’ ass that ion fucking trust this club and you still didn’t listen”

you smack your teeth a bit “papa your being so extra right now, nobody is even-

you feel ony’s large hand wrap around your neck and he leans in a whispers in your ear

“im gon tear yo ass up when we get home” you feel tingles bloom in your lower belly and feel your face get hot—

“tell your lil friends your leaving” you softly nod and turn around grabbing your bags and saying soft byes and sorry’s, while your friends give you knowing looks and soft smiles—

ony grabs your hand and drags you out the club as fast as your heels will let you, quickly opening the door for you, and letting you get in before speeding off once again—

“im just trynna get my paper straight” you hear brent sing as ony pounds ya shit, you let out loud moans and choked sobs, “p-please” you whimper out as you reach behind trynna to press against his stomach, running away from the dick—

“nah move ya hand” he roughly says, quickly grabbing your hand and pressing it against your back, pulling your hair, and starting to drill into you—

“oh my god” you whine, pathetically whimpering letting him just man handle you, letting out his frustrations on you…

“take that shit” he grunts, pounding into you “mhm” he whispers, tightening his grip around your hair

“i c-cant” “p-pa-

he hears you he really does, but he can’t get over this shit, not this time, you need to learn, yo lil ass get real disrespectful and he’s tired of it..

“nah tell them all that shit you was saying in the camera, let them hear all this” he lifts you up and pulls you towards the camera, while still pounding into you

“i-im sorry” you sob “im s-so so sorry papa” “pl-please haaa~ ” you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your so overstimulated and he’s so deep inside you.. too deep even, you just need a break

“b-break” you choke out.. “need a break”

“hm baby?” “you need a break” he says mockingly while biting his lips after feeling you tighten around him, “lil ass can’t even handle some dick, you think you finna go out again?” “you crazy mama”

“please!” you moan again, pathetically trying to reach down to rub your clit, to soothe some of the stretch your feeling— god it hurts so good, your eyes nearly roll back into your skull—

“you wanna break?” “here” ony quickly pulls out, breathing heavy, grabbing his phone concluding the punishment he was giving you, you lay on the bed heaving, pussy leaking more slick, your shaking and tired..

ony slaps your ass, and leaves hot kisses down your back “i bet you’ll never do some shit like that again” “right mama?” you just tiredly nod.. he slaps your ass again “let me hear you say it” “p-promise papa” “i won’t do it again” ony nods and slowly slips inside you again, this time giving you slow strokes, and rubbing small circles on your clit.. “mmm~

the rest of the night he takes care of you, ending in mind blowing orgasms, he can never stay mad at you for too long, your still his baby girl..

|a/n|

wait yall!! i’m fucking with this oneeee ouuuu, yall i love me some ony! 🤭

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laiiaaa · 9 months

Text

SARDINES — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen seems a little off when you visit him, and you try to figure out why. For once, you pry him open.

length 3.2k

contents angst, hurt/comfort, he's really an angel even if he's closed off n stubborn, very very emotional, lots of negative self-talk from Carm, he cares so so much, relationship talk, everything resolves in the end dw <3

It takes more than a few knocks for Carmen to open the door. If you counted correctly, it took six tries, plus a phone call. So you shouldn’t be surprised that when he finally does open the door, he barely gives you a kiss on the cheek and mumbles Hey before turning his back to you again, back in the kitchen with his phone face up on the counter. He’s antsy, almost talking to himself, checking his phone every five seconds.

You walk in and lock the door behind you as you take off your shoes, and you drop your bag on the coffee table, which houses little else other than a remote and a day-old mug with coffee staining a ring in the bottom. “…Everything okay?”

He leans into the counter with his weight on his hands and spares you a glance and a haphazard nod. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine—just waitin’ for my guy to call back.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Sitting down on the couch, part of you expects him to join you without being asked. Your back and feet ache, and all you want is for Carmen to lay with you, ease his hands up and down your spine, and watch the first thirty minutes of a random film before falling asleep.

“No, no—he usually answers when I need ‘im.” But he’s working. He’s at home, and you’re waiting on him, but he’s working. He seems to be prioritizing that a lot lately—a lot more than usual, at least. Running a hand through his hair, he watches the screen again, and mutters to himself, “Thirty fuckin’ minutes. Fuck you.”

You peek over the back of the couch. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You sound upset.”

“Yeah, baby, I’m—fuck this—” He derails from answering and instead picks up the phone again, calling and letting the dial tone ring out the second time this hour. He waits with his hand on his hip and his lip tugged between teeth.

You know ‘his guy’ doesn’t pick up when he drops his phone on the counter again with a sigh and another muffled profanity. “Carm?”

His head rests between his hands, but he lifts it to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Can you come sit with me, please?”

God, how you tug on his heart strings when you ask, your voice all sweet and dripping honey, you make it impossible to resist. “‘F course, yeah,” he answers, pocketing his phone and turning off the kitchen light before joining you.

He loops an arm over your shoulder as he presses his lips to your temple, and his heart skips a beat or two when you snuggle into him with your hand splayed against his chest. The two of you stare off at nothing in particular, soaking in the touch of the other. You smell so distinctly like you—like home—he’d be getting lightheaded in the best way if he weren’t so…so caught up in everything you help him escape: work, the fringe family, being so dead tired that in his mind he can’t tell where his kitchen ends and the fire begins. But that phone call he’s waiting on. It’s poking needles in the nape of his neck.

You sit up after a couple minutes, keeping a hand planted over his heart when you look at him. “I can literally feel how anxious you are.” He scoffs, but before he can protest you add, “Seriously, Carm, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—everything’s just…” He looks off into nowhere behind you, his free hand making circles in the air like the words will fall into his palm if he tries hard enough. He stumbles for a few moments until he looks you in the eye again, a bit pained when he tells you, “Everything’s fine, baby.” The arm that was hooked over your shoulder is now curled around your waist, and his fingers, rough and scarred, trace meaningless shapes into your back, teasing beneath the hem of your top. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout it, alright?”

You’re unconvinced. You shuffle your hips around to straddle his, placing your hands on his shoulders with your thumbs carefully massaging the sides of his neck. Like clockwork, his hands take purchase of your waist, and he brings one to slide down over the curve of your ass before smoothing circles into your thigh. He always seems to speak to you in this way—maybe about as much as he tells you he loves you through his food—the physical connection much easier to manage than trying to crack open the rock-hard shell in his chest.

You lean into him a little more, your back arching ever so slightly. “You know I want you to keep me in the loop. What’s the guy for now?”

He sighs. “It’s just—shit with the stoves ‘n it’s messin everyone up, the kitchen’s basically a fire hazard, ‘n I really need him to answer his damn phone before something…” He shrugs. “…Before something just, I dunno, blows up, I guess.”

“Well, nobody’s even in that kitchen right now, so no explosions just yet.” You eye him for a moment, biting at your lip in contemplation when he doesn’t smile quite like he usually does at your drier jokes. “Is there something else bothering you?”

His brows furrow. “No, no—why, why’re you askin’ it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like, like…” He shakes his head as if it pains him to consider it. “Like there’s somethin’ wrong with me, or, or somethin’ I’m hidin’—”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Carm, c’mon.” Your voice goes softer, hands a little gentler as you cradle his jaw in your palms. “I just want you to let me in.”

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “You’re always sayin’ stuff like that,” he mumbles, and you can feel the vibration of his voice through your hands through to your heart.

“Because I mean it.” The AC whirrs nearby, almost muffling your words. “I want you to tell me about the things that bother you. I would never judge you.”

You’re so tender with Carmen, he thinks he could melt into a puddle on the floor, left to seep into the floorboards and through the ceiling of his downstairs neighbor. And he feels the words bubbling to the surface, the emotion pooling, red-hot behind his eyes, an answer burning at the back of his throat and clawing through his chest rough enough that the kisses you scatter from his cheek, to his jaw, to his neck do little to aid his wounds. But when he answers you, it’s tame. “I do tell you about things.”

“You do, but…” You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle into the space between it and his shoulder. “I’m just thinking about this game I used to play when I was a kid, sardines.”

His head tilts back against the back of the couch, and your breath dances along his skin while his hands smooth along the bumps of your spine. “Sardines?”

“Mhm,” you hum, “It’s kinda like…hide and go seek, but reversed. One of us would hide, and when someone found us, they’d squeeze into that spot too. And I remember being terrible at it, because we’d be making faces at one another in our little hiding spot, and I could never stop giggling, and I’d just expose everyone too soon.”

He chuckles quietly to himself. “I can picture that, you laughin’ while shoved in a closet.” His fingertips trace your shoulder blades.

“Pretty much how it went. Always too loud.”

“But I like hearing you laugh. I—I always feel better…gettin’ to see you all happy.” He’s thinking he got a little too caught up in the moment, and before you can say anything back, he asks, “What were you thinkin’ about the game, then?”

“It’s a little stupid to say it out loud,” you start.

“‘S not stupid, promise.”

You pause, hesitant. “…Okay.” One quick kiss to his neck before you continue, eyes closed to sink into him, “I just like to think that, eventually, you’ll let me in like…like it’s a game of sardines, or something. That I’ll just…squeeze in right beside you, and—and you’ll let me be there for you without pushing me away.”

He hums, low and drawn out to give you a beat to breathe.

“Sometimes I just want you to tell me what it is that’s bothering you, just to…make it easier on you a little bit, knowing someone’s in your corner. Just to be there.” Your fingers twirl into his messy curls and scratch at the nape of his neck the way he likes, and his silence drags on long enough to make you anxious.

But Carmen, too, is anxious. His chest is tight, his hands fidgety, and he’s sure—he knows, he feels it in his gut—that he needs to say something, anything. But he can’t find the words. They swirl in the back of his mind, and he can taste them crawling to the tip of his tongue, but they never become clear. They lurk where he can’t see them, and he keeps his thoughts on lockdown for you, because he’s been convinced along the way somehow in his decades of living that it’s easier, for him, if he keeps the softer parts stowed away, never to be seen again. He’s starting to think you’re trouble, that you make him softer where he grew to be tough. So it’s muffled and covered by his palms smoothing up your waist when he asks, “Sit up for me a bit, baby?”

And you listen, of course, because really you’re thankful he didn’t kick you out by now. Your vision is blurry from tears pooling in your eyes, but his hands—so, so gentle, the touch barely there like he thinks you could break—cup your jaw and urge you a little closer, his thumbs stroking your cheeks and wiping away stray tears. The two of you gravitate closer until your noses brush by one another and you exchange breath, until he leans into you and slots his lips against yours. He’s hesitant and careful, he doesn’t know if it’s quite the right thing to do or if it’s says what he needs it to, but when you prop your hands against his chest and kiss him back he knows part of you needs it like he does.

Both of you need it—that silent exchange, emotions spilled between sweet kisses and kind hands. So you stay that way, with Carmen’s hands holding you close to keep you from running away, and yours answer back I’m here, until he pulls away, eyes closed, to rest his forehead against yours.

He keeps himself blind when he whispers, “I know…” You can tell he’s mulling over his thought, so you wait for him to add, “I—I know, that you’re in my corner. An’ I want you there, alright?”

You try to soak in the feeling, so close and seemingly getting closer, a little breathless from his kisses as much as his words. “Alright.”

“I just—I just get so, so stuck in my head that I…” He swallows. “I can’t tell half the time if there’s anything even worth sayin’, I’m just spaced out ‘n…going fuckin’ crazy.” His brows furrow against yours. “I’m not used to stuff like this.”

“I know.”

His hands rest along the curve of your face a little firmer when he suggests, “But I can try—to, to, uh, tell you things, to let you in, or, or however you put it—I—” A deep breath. “I’m so fuckin’ bad at this, I’ve never done this, but—but I’ll try, for you, alright? You tell me, an’ I’ll try for you.”

You nod against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “I just—it’s just—I like this, y’know? Being with you, I like what we have, I—I like doing this, and—I wanna…I wanna make you happy. The same way you do for me…” He goes quiet and shakes his head a little, anticipating his next words. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

You can’t fight the smile that pulls at your lips, even if it is bittersweet. “You aren’t gonna fuck it up, okay? Being with you already makes me happy. I know you’re trying.”

“But trying isn’t…it’s not always enough, an’ I know in some ways—in a lotta ways, probably, I’m not…I—I’m not the best at saying things, an’—shit, am I—am I saying too much—?”

“No, Carm, no. I want you to keep talking.” You take his lips in another gentle kiss, your stomach whirring warm and content.

“I don’t really know what to say, or—”

“It’s okay,” you coo. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but…if there was something else bothering you earlier…you can tell me.” You pull back a little to really look at him, running your fingers through his curls and making him gently close his eyes. “And I’ll just say okay, and then we can move on. I won’t say anything unless you want me to.”

He hums with his eyes still closed, his mouth in a smirk. “Mm, like sardines.” It’s a little snarky when he says it, but when his thumbs brush beneath your top, you know he’s just thinking over his options.

“Yes, like sardines.” You’re a little embarrassed, but also a little thankful that he followed the bit.

He waits for a few moments, just breathing, letting you smooth your hands through his hair and over his shoulders and down his chest. It’s calming, he realizes—simply existing in the same space, careful touches and brief kisses. He runs his palms from the back of your waistband to the plane between your shoulder blades and presses gently, urging you to lean against him once again. When your head rests against his chest, he takes in a deep breath through the nose and out the mouth. He watches the ceiling.

“There’s…” Another pause. “It’s not just the stove that’s botherin’ me.”

You don’t answer him, not even a hum to acknowledge he’s said anything, and he realizes that you were serious about the whole ‘not saying anything’ bit.

“I…fuck, I don’t even know how to say any ‘f this. I think…I think I’m just freakin’ out about…about everything. The restaurant…you…” There’s a long, heavy pause, a shaky breath. “An’—an’ that’s it, really, besides family I guess—which is really fuckin’ pathetic when I say it out loud.” A sniffle. “Real pathetic. But all I’ve had is fuckin’…fuckin’ cooking, an’ working, an’ dealin’ with my family ‘n fuckin’ Richie all my life—” His chest gets, tight, a hand leaves your back to run over his mouth. “God, an’ I am so fucked up,” he laughs.

You were already crying before, and the tears keep coming, streaming from your eyes to your cheeks and staining Carmen’s shirt. You’re not sure whether he even realizes.

“I’m fucked up, and you’re just—you’re so perfect, compared t’me, ‘cause you’re all smart, an’ you always know the right thing to say ‘n how to say it, an’ you’re just in a completely different world sometimes, an’ I want in—I wanna be able to do things for you, all of it, but—” He needs to catch his breath. He needs water. He needs sleep. His throat is sore and scratchy, he feels his pulse pounding in his forehead. “I’m just…scared…that—that I could fuck you up, too.”

His chest expands beneath you, and you’re shaking, biting at your lips to stifle sobs. Part of you wants to sit up and hold him close, tell him that he’s the perfect one and you’re anything but, that all he’s ever been is made for you, that maybe he is fucked up, but you don’t care because you love him all the same—you love him.

Carmen isn’t used to this reaction. He’s used to explosions, yelling, screaming, pointing fingers with hot tears, saying what he shouldn’t, saying what hurts, guilt smacking him across the face for years to come. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels your trembling and holds you that much gentler.

“Baby,” he starts, “Hey, lemme see you, you’re shaking—” He tries to peel you from his torso, prodding at your sides until you wipe at your eyes and sit yourself up. His hands reach to hold your wet face. “What—what’s wrong?”

You push his arms away. “Sardines, Carm.” You try to stay true to your word—that you’d take what he says, and only store it away—but you’d be lying if you said you’re not struggling to keep more tears at bay.

“I want you to talk to me. You said you’d talk if I wanted you to, I—I need you to talk to me, c’mon, please—”

“This is so wrong—I’m the one who should be comforting you—”

“Hey, hey hey hey—” He smooths a hand over your hair and presses kisses to the tear stains on your cheeks. “That doesn’t matter to me. That doesn’t matter to me, alright?” He holds you steady, waits for you to meet his eyes, and when you look at him, it’s like he can see right through you. His thumbs brush away your tears, and your breathing settles.

You sigh, your hands moving from his chest to his shoulders. “We’re such a mess.”

Carmen shakes his head, mind full of you as his eyes trail the contours of your face, the plush of your lips when your teeth bite at them. “Wouldn’t wanna be with anyone else.” His hands touch your waist again and ease you into him, buzzing with your soft curves in his grasp. It’s more than therapeutic, he thinks. Life-sustaining might be more accurate.

You nod, and your fingertips graze along his cheekbones before you plant a soft, yearning kiss to his mouth.

He kisses you again because he can’t help himself, and he might be too scared to look you in the eye when he says it, but eyes closed or not, he means it. “You’re so good to me.” His arms wrap around you again, addicted to feeling your weight beneath his skin, and he presses his lips to your jaw. “So fuckin’ good to me,” he repeats, lower than a whisper like it slipped by without thinking.

You card your hands through his hair, messily beautiful, and answer, “You deserve someone good,” just as quiet as he is.

He swears his heart stops, and his lips trail from your jaw down to your neck. “You’re too good to me,” he says again, with a bit more honesty in the change. He knows you, so he already knows what you’re going to say, and that any other time he’d deny it.

You hum, a warm smile curling the corners of your mouth as you pull him closer to your chest, grazing your lips by his hairline for a gentle kiss. “No such thing.”

And for the first time, with his arms wrapped tight around your waist with a gentleness reserved only for you, and with your body slotted against his, he really starts to believe it.

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nightmare-niko · 5 months

Text

Welcome Home [Childhoodbestfriend!Coryo x reader]

Warnings: TBOSAS spoilers, angst, two idiots in love, too cute for your own good tbh, no use of Y/n

A/n: Im still getting back in the swing of fanfic writing but if you have any other characters from The Hunger Games universe you want me to write for just lmk!!!!

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

Childhoodbestfriend!coryo who searches for your face in the crowded train station, and when he finally sees you, his knees almost gave in.

The two of you didn’t leave off on the best of terms (he blew you off the second he met Lucy Gray) and Coriolanus didn’t think you’d show up to welcome him home.

But there you were.

There in the crowd you stood, nervously playing with the end of your hair just like you always did. You looked through the sea of faces for your best friend, at first you couldn’t see him. Perhaps you missed him? Surely not… But then, there he was. Coriolanus Snow, Your Coryo.

Before you could register what was happening you were barreling towards him. Engulfing him in a bone crushing hug that he doesn’t hesitate to return.

“Oh Coryo!” You exclaim, pulling back from the hug to get a better look at him. “Oh my goodness! Your hair! What did they do to your hair? You’re bald!” You rub your hands in his head, savoring the strange new sensation.

He laughs gently, taking your wrists in his hands and holding them close. “I am not bald! it’ll grow back before you even realize, a swear.” He pauses for a moment, staring deeply into your eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more than you can know, Coryo”

“I’m sure i missed you more,” he paused again. “Where’s Tigris?”

“Don’t worry, she’s at work, she wishes she could be here but you know how her boss is.” Coryo hums in acknowledgment, “and I talked to grandma’am earlier today and she gave me strict instructions to keep you away from your house tonight.” You take his hand and start walking your way through the platform.

“What? Why?” The grip on your hand tight, as if he’s scared to lose you.

“Oh she wouldn’t tell me, she knew I was just gonna end up telling you anyway.” Your arms brush together as you walk, to anyone else, the two of you look like the loveliest couple. “But that just means you get to spend your first day back your favorite person!”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way~”

•

“Are you sure your parents are going to be okay with me staying over?" Your parents were never the biggest fan of Coriolanus Snow, they werent fans of the Snow family at all, and when they saw him on to with that District girl they deemed him no good.

"Oh they moved out, I have the place all to myself,” as you approach us your penthouse door you pat at your pockets for the key. "I Prepared the spare room for you for. When you come over, even though you always insist on taking up my whole bed...”

"Your bed is just the most comfortable bed, ever." He raises his hands in defeate. "Your bed is big enough for the both of us."

“It’s only big enough when you sleep normally which you never do. Ever,” the two of laugh as you enter your home.

When he walks through the door of your lavish capitol penthouse, he couldn’t stop himself from crying. The house didnt look the same from when he was last here. When he was last in your penthouse, it was right after his and Clemensia Dovecoats run in with Dr. Gaul. The once colourless decor of your house was now full of life, full of you.

As the tears fell down his pale check, you turned back to look at him. You were at his side in a second, "Coryo, what’s wrong?" You wipe his tears away with the cuff of your Sleeve.

"Nothing - It's nothing really, I just missed this, You." His voice just above a whisper.

“I missed you too, more than you can know.” You smush his cheeks in between your hand.

He swats your hand away, “I’m not a kid anymore, you can’t treat me like it,” a light pink flush blooms on his ears.

“Oh nonsense! I’m your best friend, and I’m older than you so I’ll always treat you like a kid!”

“You can’t treat me like a kid when I’m president,” he jokes through quiet sobs.

"I’m never going to stop, Coryo, I’m your best friend, it’s my job to annoy you," You run your fingers through his hair.

"You’re never annoying...”

As the two of you make your way into your room. It was the same as he remembered.

"It's the same," he points out.

"What is?" you question,

"The room, you didnt change it...”

"Why would I change it? I love my room, and when my parents moved away and left me the house, I figured: Why not just make the whole place my own?"

You take off your sweater and shoes before climbing into your bed. Your eyes follow Coryo as he walks around your room, making himself at home. After taking off his shoes he joins you on your bed, tackling you in a hug, knocking you over.

“Woah!”

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, basking in his warmth. Neither of you feel the need to say anything. Sure you were curious about his time away, but you knew Coryo was tired and all you wanted was for him to be comfortable.

Oh how you’ve missed this.