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etfrin · 6 months

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⤷❝Can't be Shared | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | somnophilia, mentions of prostitution (Snow was going to 'share' you) cunnilingus, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), possessive af Snow, impact play (he slaps your thigh once), ruined orgasm (you do cum in the end) | lmk if I forgot anything!

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

⇢☾Summary: Snow was going to share you with the elite of the Capitol but changed his mind halfway through only to have his way with you and make you the First Lady of Panem

⇢☾A/N: hehe, the longest fic I have writing so far, hope y'all enjoy this and reblog ;)

He thought he would be okay with it. He was sure he would be okay with it. But he wasn't. Snow's blood boiled when the rich elitist of the capitol had begun to touch you, whisper you praises, and whatnot. The only thing that was going in his mind was his, his, his.

When had he gotten so attached, he wasn't supposed to be. Letting them touch you, and play with you was a strategic decision to get them hooked and you weren't meant to be his Queen but something had changed. Something snapping in him when the Capitols’ richest eyed you like a meal.

His jaw was clenched and he cleared his throat, “I changed my mind.” He said, “I am not sharing after all.”

You are his. His property. His bird locked in his cage and now his Queen. He pulled you closer, away from prying hands. He glared, memorizing the face of any and everyone displeased, thinking of plans of how to dispose of them quickly because even if briefly they had touched you that was a sin. No one taints the Queen but a King.

He cordially finishes dinner, keeping in mind he was a president, a newly appointed one at that even if he wanted to he couldn't drag you into his room and have his way with you. But he wanted to. His free hand is on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a small bruise. His hold gets tighter the more he has to smile pretty and act polite.

You hadn't said a word, you weren't sure what to say. You were ready to be shared, used, and then discarded. Snow had told you of this beforehand, but he had changed his mind and you were grateful.

Even as he marked you, made you whimper with his grip, giving your thigh a warning squeeze to be quiet. You were relieved that he decided not to share. You were his, you liked that you were his.

Dinner took longer than you would have preferred, but when it finally came to an end, Snow leaned into you and whispered, “Be on my bed wearing my shirt and nothing else, my bird.”

You didn't reply. You get up, walking into his room, heat choking your veins and making your pussy ache and wet. You close the door as you reach the master bedroom of the manor.

Going into his closet you picked on a red shirt, knowing that it would match your skin tone well. You had taken everything else off, your panties and previous clothes on the floor. You were in full display as you didn't even button up the shirt. Your breasts are exposed to the cold air making your nipples harden.

You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come. One minute bleeds into ten and you laid down on the bed. One hour turns to several and your eyes close up. Sleep catches up with you.

You woke up with a gasp. Sleep at the edge of your mind but your mouth lets out a moan wantonly as several things hit you at once.

One. Snow was here.

Two. Snow was between your thighs, his hands keeping your thighs wide and spread for him.

Three. His lips were on your clit, sucking it vigorously making you arch your back and wanting to flinch away from the intensity.

And you tried to move away, your bud sensitive more with pain than in pleasure. How long was Snow like this, sucking at your clit. Your pussy was now impossibly slick and throbbing, wanting to be filled.

A slap was delivered onto your thigh, a hitched moan leaving your lips because of the delicious pain. “Behave,” Snow sneers at you, his blue eyes looking ravenous, his face smeared with your arousal. This was Snow? You thought for a brief second. For once he felt like a man brought down to his knees by a woman instead of something untouched.

“Sorry,” you gasp out as he dives into your cunt. His tongue drew circles onto your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing. You never thought Snow would be sloppy at anything, you thought wrong because his breathing was loud, warn air of his pants grazing your sex. His stubble brushed against your sex as all of his attention was overstimulating your clit.

He finally lost interest as you cried out that you were close just by him playing with your clit for who knows how long. It hurt. It felt good. Perfect, delicious pleasure and pain. You were dizzy, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts of your cunt untouched by his mouth. He was licking every drop of your juices, all the while he made you wetter.

Your hands were fisted into the sheets, your hips subtly moving for friction. A notion that was stopped with a squeeze of his hand on your thigh. You were brought to your high, so close to the edge you would fall in a second as moans spilled from your lips.

Only for that to be snatched away as Snow moved away. You cry out, “No! Please!” But Snow merely raised an unamused eyebrow while his hand wiped his mouth. “Snow, please,” you whispered, feeling the heat and the high of your lost orgasm.

He lets out a scoff as he sees your desperate state. “My meal is finished,” he merely said. His hand takes off the red suit, the same color as your (his) shirt. His fingers unbutton his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. Those same hands now unzipped his pants, his boxer down to the floor revealing a hard cock. The well-rounded tip leaking pre-cum.

“But I am not done with you yet,” he muses, as he moves in closer. You were sitting up now and his hand was on your nape.

“I don't think I'll ever be done with you,” he whispers, the words sealing a promise of forever. “Don't be,” you whispered back, leaning to catch his lips. Your arms around his shoulders to pull him on top of you, to feel his weight, his skin against yours.

Primal instincts take over you both as you kiss. Desperate whimpers and deep groans could be heard and his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Making it bleed and making him suck your blood into his mouth. He pulls back with a gasp, his eyes wide, his lips swollen. His taste was of a dessert you couldn't name. Addictive and delicious.

His left hand was on your cheek, another still on your nape. His thumb brushes your cheek in a manner of caring. “You're the Queen of Panem now,” he announces, making your heart jump in surprise. “The First Lady of Panem.”

With that, he seals his words with a kiss. Soft and ravishing, his tongue explores your mouth. Your hand is in his hair, the blonde locks between your fingers as you kiss back with everything you have.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing with yours, “My bird in a cage. My property.”

“I'll make sure everyone at Capitol knows it,” he said, his eyes looking at you with the ferality of an animal stripped to his bare instincts. “Is that understood, my bird?” He asked.

The answer couldn't be anything but yes. So you replied exactly that and he grins. He looked beautiful in that moment, his charms coming out making you even more needy.

You pulled him in for another kiss, his lips smiling against yours as both of your tongues tangled. His hand lowered itself and cupped your cunt. His fingers trace your entrance and you whimper into his mouth but he doesn't breach in.

He gathers your arousal on his digits, and he pulls back from the kiss to take the digits into his mouth. After sucking his fingers clean, he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.

His hands pushed you down on the bed, your legs on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, taking you in, his bird being such a pretty mess.

He placed a kiss on your thigh that was unbelievably soft that for a moment you didn't believe it was action done by Snow's lip but the harsh bite of his mouth marking the skin of your inner thigh proved otherwise.

He leaned down, his hand in your hand above your head. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, forming crescent marks that made him groan, a choked-off desperate sound that you wanted more of.

All the while he placed his cockhead right at your entrance. You gasp as you feel the tip slip inch by inch into your velvety warmth. You wondered if he was going so slow because he wanted you to adjust to his length. However, one look at his face told you were wrong. His blonde strands clinging to his forehead, his lips parted and letting out hot breaths all the while his eyes closed shut, his eyebrows furrowed as he buried his dick into your cunt with the slow pace.

The reason he was going slow was because he wasn't sure if he could last and fuck, that got into your head. Birds are little teasers and you were no different so you clenched around him. His length half pushed in and felt your pulsing cunt wrapping itself tighter around him.

His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His icy eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.

“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Snow. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.

“Gentlemen make their women cum but you're not a woman. You're my property but I am merciful so cum. Cum on my cock untouched, my bird.” He groans into your ear as his pace gets faster, a tad bit of desperation creeping in as his hips slam into you without a care. You could only moan in reply, truth is you didn't need to be touched to cum. His cock, his skin against yours, his mouth sucking your neck, and placing love bites were enough. More than so.

The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Snow shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.

You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, my bird,” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.

His hand ran through his hair, pushing the sweaty strands up. “First lady of Panem,” he stated, looking at you and then your body, his cum falling out of your cunt.

“First Lady…” you whispered, in disbelief and for whatever may come in the future.

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sscorpiiio · 5 months

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wearing the same colors and everything

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months

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M'lady, doth this harlot bother thee?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #yu ziyuan #wang lingjiao #jinzhu #yinzhu #I just want to take a moment to shine a spotlight on YZY's maids.#I fully admit to forgetting about them until I was looking up female characters in mdzs for the Six AU and saw their names.#For characters who play a small role in the story I sure do rotate the little morsels of info we know about them in my head.#We know they came from the Yu sect along with YZY and described as 'young women' so did they likely were young when they left #And we know that YZY favours them immensely (to the point she lets them speak a lot more freely than she does her own children)#And they in turn are extremely loyal to herand very skilled fighters.#So what's up with that dynamic? Who are they to her? Who are they to each other? Who are they as individuals?#My theory is that they were initially servant girls YZY took in and trained (hence the whip proficiency)#I also very much love the idea of this double standard; that YZY has these surrogate 'children' she favours over her own #to shadow JFM's affection for WWX (child who is not his own).#Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli just keep losing!!!#Anyways I just think we should hoist jinzhu and yinzhu up more. I think they have minor character swag and potential.

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munsons-melody · 6 months

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the inspo + the inspired

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your-writing-motivation · 18 days

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The only character questionnaire you'll ever need (works for all characters and genres)

Name:

Role:

Physical description:

Age:

Personality Type:

Distinctive skills and abilities:

Greatest fear:

Misbelief about the world:

What happened to make them believe this lie:

What do they criticize others for:

Love Language:

How do they respond to emotional pain:

Top 3 things they value (physical or abstract):

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why:

Typical outfit:

Method of manipulation:

How are they dissatisfied with life:

What do they think will bring them happiness:

What could they do to make that happen:

How has their fear stopped them from taking this action:

How do they think they can get their goal without doing the thing that makes them afraid:

Answer for each character this character has a direct relationship with

Describe relationship briefly:

Points of conflict in relationship:

What do they agree on:

What do they disagree on:

Any secrets kept from each other and why:

How did they meet and how long did they know each other:

How will their relationship change over the course of the story:

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spicyraeman · 23 days

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If you're headcanoning lae'zel as older than she is, you're missing a fundamental part of her character

#plsplspls this is like one of the few times a female character is young for reasons other than her being conventionally attractive #her being young informs her whole world view and way of thinking #if you change that her whole character changes

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bonebabbles · 2 months

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Uh.... wh?

Honey and Shell are right.

Nightheart was allowed to act out MUCH more strongly and harshly than any other warrior

Squilf herself as deputy was trying her best to help him reconnect to their family, when he was angrily pushing them all away

He interrupted his own name ceremony and was given a new one, no consequence

Was given a huge opportunity to go on a mission to get lifesaving medicine, BECAUSE of Jayfeather, Alderheart, and Squilf, his family. Didn't appreciate this.

Ran away to ShadowClan, and then came back, no consequence again because his family missed him.

Left AGAIN with a StarClan Permission Slip to help Frostpaw, came back, no consequence for vanishing. Even Sunbeam doesn't resent this.

He does get away with shit because he's a descendant of Firestar, he's part of the family that leads ThunderClan. This all would have been treated much more harshly, and he wouldn't have gotten so many opportunities, if these people WEREN'T his family.

And now he's gotten an apprentice before Shell and Honey for it!

This ISN'T "building his own legacy." It IS nepotism.

Even the next handful of cats who get apprentices-- Bayshine, his best friend who he was basically raised with and aids him constantly, just this morning lying to cover Sunbeam, AND Finchlight, sister. Molewhisker is a random senior mentor so they're not ALL completely brand new.

TERRIBLE conclusion to Nightheart's character arc, this execution has earned a fierce, flaming F + See Me After Class

#asc spoilers #MEGA disappointing because I LIKE Nightheart a lot actually!!#I STILL do. He deserved a better arc than this.#Nepotism and the POSITIVE legacy of Firestar is an interesting theme and idea!#I think it fits WC very well and my biggest complaint is that there were female characters who should have had it sooner #Or even concurrently #I LIKE impulsive young adults who make dumb and emotional descisions #But like. This is a horrible conclusion #Aughhhh

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krazieka2 · 16 days

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is there a reason you prefer whichever Alear you prefer most?

if there was an au with both of them how would you do it?

what do you like about both m! And f! Alear respectively?

I hope this is satisfactory

#inbox #2024 art #I base my mc personalities around my personal playthroughs and also Vibes #so uh real quick ig #femlear uses a sword and Marth #malear uses his fists and Byleth #Femlear's closest companions (first A ranks) were Amber Goldmary and Zelkov #Malear's were Pandreo Alcryst and Alfred #so ig Male Alear is a well rounded empathetic young man who wants to protect people #and Female Alear is obnoxious!#mysteriously sassing people in alpaca. the worst? the worst #she gets to be a dragon and male alear gets to be the main character

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ghostfanwriter · 7 months

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✨🥐 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐝 🥐✨

Part two to Pink Velvet.

🥐 Pairing: Single dad, young Joel Miller x Baker! Reader

✨ Setting: No Outbreak Au! Joel's the biological father of Sarah and Ellie.

🥐 Synopsis: Joel starts working on the renovations around your bakery. But he's willing to do more than just fixing your floors for you.

✨ Features: Joel and reader flirting some more, reader being helplessly down for Joel (and Joel eating it UP), a lot bit of a competency thing from reader.

🥐 Word count: 4.2k

✨ About this/Author's note: You guys seemed to really like part one, I can't tell you how happy I got with all the comments on it 🤧 This one is pure fluff and flirtation. I love watching them being all awkward and giggly next to one another. It's cooking, friends, and they know it.

Hope you like it 🩷

You hear a soft sound while you're putting the chairs up so you can sweep the floor. After you don't pay it any mind, you hear a proper knock on your door, and it startles you, making you jump and laugh while you walk towards the door, Joel laughing on the other side.

"Sorry, I tried not to scare you, but you didn't hear it the first time." He says, laughing as you make room for him to walk in.

"Not, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting you to be here early, I was trying to finish cleaning before you arrived." You explain yourself, locking the door back.

"Did you just close?" He asks, noticing the dirty dishes on top of a few of the tables.

"Well, my closing time is never my closing time, you know? People arrive five minutes before closing and I just can't tell them to leave." You say.

"And they never even ask what time you're closing?" He asks and you laugh.

"Some do. But they stay anyway." You say, and he shakes his head.

"Well, I'mma help you so we can sit down and talk, then." He says and you smile.

"Thank you, Joel." You say as he gives you no time to protest, going to the dirty tables and picking up the dishes, putting them on the counter, then going around and putting the remaining chairs on top of their tables.

"You know what's really unfair?" He asks, and you frown.

"What is really unfair?" You ask.

"You know my name and I don't know yours." He says, and you smile, saying your name.

"Nice to meet you." He says your name, and you love how it sounds on his lips.

"Nice to meet you too." You say, swiping a table so you can sit down.

...

"So, tell me about what needs to be done here." He says, sitting across from you.

"Well, first the floorings." You start. "They're... Not great. There are hollow pieces, uneven parts, it's all scratched and the color's not so nice anymore, the tiles of the bathrooms are stained and gross. So I'd like to change all of them." You say, and he nods, a cute pout on his lips as he keeps his eyes on you while you talk.

"Alright, fully changing the floorings will require a few hours to work on them and then a while of no one walking over them, is that ok?" He asks, leaning down to touch the floor.

"Yeah, no problem. Sundays I only open in the morning, just to sell some bread, but it's always the same people, so I could just let them know I'd be closed on Sunday. Maybe try and deliver them the breads if they want." You say.

"Great. I could start on Saturday night and let it rest until Monday morning." He says.

"You can do the whole flooring in just one night?" You ask, shocked.

"Yeah, my brother helps me out when I need it. I'll just bring him with me and we should be done quick. Maybe in like... Four or five hours" He says.

"Alright, that sounds good. I can work on the bread for delivery while you two do it. Does Saturday night works for you, though?" You ask.

"Yeah, any day that works for you works for me." He says.

"Oh, ok. It's just that, you know, Saturday night. Maybe you'd have something to do." You say.

"Trust me, I don't know what going out at night feels like for a very long time now. I'm always working at night." He laughs.

"I know. I miss it, but since I opened I haven't really been going out much neither." You admit.

"Well, now you're gonna spend the nights here watching me renovate your shop, how exciting is that?" He jokes.

'Oh, watching you be skillful and fix things, carry heavy stuff around and make my bakery look better? That's very exciting.' You think to yourself.

"Can't wait." You say, and he laughs.

"So, floorings we can't do much for at least a week, then. Is it ok if I work in one bathroom at a time? Maybe you keep just one, would people hate that too much?" He asks.

"No, I don't think so. I'm ok with that." You say.

"Alright, so I can work on it before the floorings. But you mentioned the walls and lights too?" He squints his eyes.

"Yeah. I think the old renter used to hang big and heavy stuff on the walls, so they're full of big holes." You say, and he looks around, frowning when he doesn't see anything. "I covered them." You say. "With the paintings."

"Why do you need me then? You're already so good at this." He jokes, and you laugh.

"I'm talented." You shrug, laughing.

"That you are. That cake?" He says, his eyes growing wide as he remembers the taste.

"You liked it?" You ask.

"Oh, I fucking loved it!" He says. "We ate the whole thing in like... Ten minutes." He says.

"Really?" You ask, your smile even bigger, even though you can't help but wonder... Who's we?

"Yeah, I mean, I'm sorry." He says, his tone suddenly getting serious as he leans over the table, touching your forearm, your chest suddenly filling with air. "But we destroyed that beautiful thing you created." He says, laughing.

"Oh, my poor baby." You whine dramatically, making a cry face, and he laughs.

"Do you do it all yourself?" He asks, and you nod.

"I do." You say.

"Well, you're in the right business, that was insane." He says, and you can feel your cheeks on fire. "Is there anything else?"

"What?" You ask, a silly smile stuck on your face, still flustered with his praising.

"Anything else you want to work on?" He asks, laughing.

"Ah, yeah, hum... There's an infiltration on the open patio, on the back." You say, and his eyes grow wide.

"And we're here talking about holes in the wall?" He asks, concerned, his laugh telling how funny he thinks your priorities are.

"I'm sorry!" You say, laughing at yourself. "They just annoy me so much."

"Can I see it?" He asks.

"Sure, it's over there." You point to the patio, getting up, and he follows you.

...

You remove the planter from the corner where the infiltration is and he bends down to take a look at it.

"Well, this is not looking good." He says.

"Is it too bad?"

"Yeah, the concrete is pretty wet, there may be a broken pipe underneath here." He says. "Was it like this when you rented?" He asks.

"Yeah. I asked my landlord about it and he said he'd get a guy over to check on it, but it's been a year and still nothing." You explain.

"He won't fix it." He says, like he's certain of it. "But neither should you." He says.

"But you said it's not looking good." You say, confused.

"Because it isn't." He says, getting up, standing close to you. "But it's not your problem, you shouldn't pay for it."

"I was gonna ask you about that." You say, your voice small as he's towering over you. He smells so good, he's so big, so... "Do you want something to drink?" You ask, your throat dry all of a sudden.

"Yeah. Do you have coffee?" He asks.

"Coffee at night?" You laugh, walking back inside.

"Still got a lot to do when I get home." He says, sitting down as you brew him some coffee.

"So, how much of what I have to do here do you think I should ask him to help me with?" You ask.

"Anything that's structural, permanent or semipermanent." He starts. "The infiltration, the tiles and the floorings, basically. You won't take the floorings with you when you leave, and they seem like they haven't been touched for a long time, so you're gonna up the value of the space. The infiltration is here since before you, so it's not your problem." He says. "He should fully pay for both, as far as I'm concerned."

"Don't know if he's gonna like to hear that." You say. You know the man, unfortunately.

"I can come over if you want. I can bring you a detailed budget and project plan, we sit down and talk to him." He offers.

"When, you think?" You ask, bringing him his coffee, sipping on some water.

"Thank you." He says, drinking it. "I just have to take a look around, take some notes, see what kind of materials you want, maybe in one week we can have it all. Maybe earlier." He says.

"Cool. One week is long enough to decide everything and tell everyone about the Sunday when I'll need to close."

"Alright. So I'll take a look around." He says.

"Ok, I'll be in the kitchen. Just call if you need anything." You say, getting up.

...

You finish what there was still left to do in the kitchen while Joel inspects the place. After you're both done you close everything.

"Do you want a ride?" He asks after you close the door.

"No, it's fine. I gotta run some errands, buy some groceries." You say. "Thank you, though."

"No problem. I'll text you tomorrow so we can talk floorings and tiles." He says.

"Uhum. Thanks, Joel. See ya." You say.

"See ya." He says, waving goodbye before crossing the street, going to his car, and you walk away.

For the next three days he texts you, you send him the type of floorings you want, he explains to you the durability and maintenance costs and efforts of each option, and you ultimately decide everything you want.

You set a meeting with your landlord, and Joel says he'll join you, like he promised he would.

...

"So, how do you want to do this?" He asks.

"I don't know." You admit. "What do you think?" You ask.

"I think you should talk to him, and I should just back up what you say." He suggests.

"What if he doesn't listen to me?"

"Then I'll deal with him." He says, his tone almost intimidating.

"Ok." You agree as you watch the man walk inside.

"Alright, now what's this about?" He asks, as sweet as always. His eyes roaming from you to Joel, and Joel hates how the man eyes you up and down.

"Hi, Michael, look, I wanted to do some renovations, like I told you, so I called Joel." You say. "And we talked about the floorings and the infiltration on the back—"

"You're not expecting me to pay for it, are you sweetheart?" He cuts you, his tone condescending, and you see Joel's nostrils widen.

"Those were bad before I got in, you knew about the loose tiles, the worn out floorings, the infiltration was already pretty bad. And you know that." You say, angry. "You even said you'd fix that before it became too much of a problem." You add.

"Don't remember that." He laughs.

"Do you really wanna fucking do this?" Joel asks, his ever so deep voice even deeper, none of the usual softness coating it.

"I'm not here to talk to you, ok? You're just trying to make money out of this situation." Your landlord tries to sound convincing.

"If you don't work on this I'm gonna have you sign this aknowledgement notice saying that you were aware of the infiltration before she rented the space." Joel says, placing a paper on top of the table. "Because if that shit gets worse and she loses equipment, one of her clients or God forbid, she gets hurt... She's gonna sue you and then you're gonna lose a lot more money than you'd spend to fix it now." Joel says firmly, and you take a deep breath in. He's always so sweet to you, but the angry yet somehow professional tone he's using with your landlord makes you almost melt.

"How much is it gonna cost?" He asks, his bravery finding a short end on Joel's dominant presence.

"I made a budget for her. Found the most affordable materials and I separated my labor's cost on each part of what needs to be done here." Joel says, handing him a folder filled with numbers and project details.

"And what else needs to be done?" He asks you.

"Some of the lights are not working, even after I changed the lightbulbs, the floors are terrible, some of the tiles on the restrooms are falling down and the walls are filled with holes." You say. "Now I told Joel I didn't mind paying for part of this. Especially the floors, because I need a specific flooring, and it's a little more costly than other, worse options. So I suggest I pay for Joel's labor in all of these, except the infiltration and split part of the costs of the floorings with you." You add.

...

After some more back and forth you get to an agreement you're all satisfied with. Your landlord ends up paying for all the structural and permanent fixes, and Joel tells you that it's ok for you to pay him a bit per month.

On the first day of the renovations, Joel's working on the infiltration, breaking the old and humid concrete so he can access the pipe and see what's wrong with it.

He wants to make sure he at least changes the pipe today so the leaking stops, so he's outside, focused on finishing it as fast as he can.

But his work is interrupted when you scream from the kitchen.

"Fuck!" You scream, and he comes in running, his eyes and nostrils wide, his protection glasses still on, a cloth on his shoulder, his neck glistening with sweat, his hair slightly stuck on his forehead, his arms so big, his torso and belly slightly outlined on his shirt—

"Are you ok?" He asks, scared, pulling you out of him.

"Me?" You ask, confused, finally finding his eyes.

"Yeah, you!" He says. "You screamed, I thought something happened to you."

"Oh, God, no! No, Joel, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry." You say, starting to laugh. "I'm just used to being here alone, I... I'm sorry, I'm fine." You explain yourself, and he laughs, his shoulders dropping as his body relaxes.

"Jesus, you almost fucking killed me." He says, a little out of breath while he removes his protection glasses.

"No, I'm sorry." You say, laughing, feeling funny for him caring about you.

"What happened?" He asks, leaning on the doorframe, still catching his breath.

"Oh, it was my fucking mixer. It was weird for a while and now it just doesn't wanna work anymore." You say, frustrated, going towards it to grab the dough that's inside it.

"Do you want me to take a look at it?" He offers.

"No, it's fine. You're already busy out there, I can call some technician tomorrow." You say, and he makes a 'tsk' sound, grunting at you.

"I'm already here, I'll see if it's something I can fix. You don't need to spend more money." He says, his look telling you he wouldn't let you say no as he uses the cloth he had on his shoulder to clean his hands.

"Thank you." You say. "Can you take that tray for me, please?" You ask, and he holds it in front of you, so you throw the dough in it and he puts it back on top of the table. "Thanks, gotta finish kneading it now." You say, setting a timer for fifteen minutes and starting to knead it.

He kneels down next to the mixer and uses his flashlight to inspect it.

"Did you smell anything burnt?" He asks, and you frown.

"Don't think so." You say, struggling with the dough.

"What did it do, exactly?" He asks, turning to look at you.

"It started kinda like... bumping, instead of it's constant movement?" You say, trying to see in his face if your words made any sense. "Like, usually it's pretty smooth, but then it started doing like—" you say, moving your arms to mimick it's bumpy and stiff movements. "And then it just stopped."

"Great demonstration, thank you." He says, his face showing pure satisfaction, and you laugh.

"Told ya. Talented." You joke, making him laugh before turning back to the mixer.

"Alright, I think I saw some oxidated parts. You'll probably have to change them, but I can oil them so you can use it until you get the new parts." He says.

"Sure, thank you." You say, and he goes outside, coming back with a can in hand.

He grunts as he kneels down next to the mixer, putting his flashlight in his mouth so he can properly oil the machine.

You watch him as he opens the can, throwing the lid on the floor besides him and wetting a brush, oiling the mixer parts.

His proactivity, his capacity, his availability to help you makes your knees weak, make you want to go to him — jump on him —, kiss him, thank him, fuck him.

Make sure he's well fed, well taken care of, make sure he's happy, he feels loved. Show him just how much you appreciate him.

"You got paper towels?" He asks, already up, startling you.

"Yeah, yeah, hum... They're over there." You point, almost out of breath. Both because of the kneading and your thoughts.

He rips two sheets of the paper and comes back, kneeling back down besides the mixer.

"I made a mess on your floor." He says, sounding apologetic.

"Ugh. How dare you, Joel? Make a mess while you fix my broken mixer for me?" You say, playfully. "How dare you try and not make me knead everything by — grunts — hand?" You say, grunting with the force you're making.

"That's a lot of dough, huh?" He says, standing next to you, watching you knead the dough from behind your shoulder before walking away to throw the paper away.

His smell — God his smell —, so woody and masculine, so strong and so gentle at the same time, the comforting warmth his body emanates, his soft and deep voice, so close to your ears...

All of him making you feel lightheaded, like you're drowning on the man, like you're incapable of peacefully coexisting with him without having him take over you.

"Yep, brioches, rolls, sweet breads." You say before the pause gets too long. "All the same dough." You add, almost jumping when your timer goes off. You look at it, turning your head, confused.

Has it been fifteen minutes already?

"It's this one." Joel says, coming back close to you with another timer in hand. "Croissants." He reads the name written on the tape you put on the timer, and you sigh.

"Shit." You say under your breath.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"The croissant dough is chilling, and it's good to roll out and shape now, but I still got ten minutes on this one." You say, and he catches the distress and tiredness on your tone.

"Can I help you?" He asks, his voice soft and gentle.

"Don't tell me you know how to shape croissants?" You joke sweetly, looking up at him and laughing.

That'd be too much to ask.

"No, that's not I'm my book, sorry." He laughs, his own tone sweet and playful. "But I know how to squeeze things." He says, almost suggestively, you could swear. "I mean, how hard can this be?" He says, pointing at the dough with his palm.

"Oh, yeah? Go wash your hands." You say, and he goes, smiling.

He comes back, his sleeves rolled up, forearms looking obscene almost, his strong hands looking like they would feel so good, like they'd squeeze and hold you so nice...

"What do I do?" He asks, pulling you out of him again.

"You're gonna knead it like this. You lift it, then slap it down, then turn it and do the same. As soon as it gets less sticky you can start doing more like, pressing down and rolling it motions." You say, showing him how to do it.

"Alright, cute, thank you. Let the professional work now." He jokes, pushing you aside with his body.

"Ten minutes, huh? Professional." You say, and he gives you a desperate smile.

You grab your dough on the fridge and come back. Then you take the rolling pin and smack the dough a few times, startling Joel on the first one.

"Love for the craft, right?" He jokes, noticing the lack of delicacy on your movements.

"I like to think about some clients when I do this part." You say before thinking, and he laughs.

"Sounds therapeutic." He responds.

"The butter is actually pretty hard. Gotta break it a bit so I can roll it out." You explain, and he smiles.

He could listen to you talk about baking for as long as you wanted.

You start rolling the dough out, and he focuses back on his own dough.

"Look." He calls your attention. "Not sticking anymore."

"Now you can press and roll it." You say. "If you stand on your tiptoes you can put more force into it."

You set the a ruler at the top of your dough and start cutting it in long and thin triangles. But then your sight escapes from it, finding Joel at the other edge of the table.

His arms muscles flexing as he kneads the dough, his thick fingers piercing into it, his nostrils widening as he uses all his force and body weight — he learned so fucking fast — to work the dough. You're completely lost in him. Lost until you hear...

Your name?

You look at up at his face, a cocky smile on his lips.

"If you told me croissants we're about measurements I'd have done it." He jokes, his smile getting larger as your eyes widen. "Did you mess up your measurements? 'Cause I wouldn't have messed mine up." He teases, his puffy and red cheeks showing how hard he was holding his laughter back.

"No. No, I'm just—I'm just thinking here." You say, embarrassed to be caught mid daydream.

"Thinking, huh?" He asks, panting. "How much longer, again?" He asks, turning his head to look at the timer in front of him.

"Five more minutes." You say, laughing, and he shakes his head.

"Fuck— alright, I take it back. This is hard, Jesus Christ." He admits, stopping as his muscles give up with his laughter.

"To think that I used to wake up at four in the morning to make these everyday." You say, and he shakes his head.

"That's what you were thinking about?" He asks, smirking.

"Kinda." You admit.

You weren't... But he doesn't have to know that.

"You always did it all by yourself?" He asks.

"Pretty much. At first I had my mom help me, but then I realized that overnight proofing and simplifying my menu was better than working all day everyday, and now it's just me." You explain. "Well, me and my mixer." You say, pitifully looking at it.

"I'll fix it, don't worry about it. It needs some rest too." He says. "And well, you have me while it's broken, so that's not perfect but... At least you're not alone." He says, smiling sweetly at you.

"It feels good. Having someone to talk to." You admit. "Though I'm starting to really worry about how many rolls I'm gonna have to make you to pay you for this." You say, and he laughs.

"Never enough." He says, going back to knead the dough.

As the renovations progress, Joel spends each day more and more time in the kitchen with you. Even after he fixed your mixer, he still found reasons to spend some time there talking to you.

And it's not like you didn't escape your own chores to go talk to him. Your favorite thing to do was using him as a beta tester for new or improved recipes.

...

"Do you like raspberries?" You ask, coming close to him while he's applying the new tiles to the bathroom.

"I do." He answers, smiling. His smile sweeter everytime he looks at you.

"Try this." You hand him a small spoon with a raspberry custard. "Is it a bit too sweet?" You ask.

"Just a little, but yeah." He agrees. "Is it for a cake?" He asks.

"Donuts." You say, and he pouts, closing his eyes like you've hurt him.

"Get away from me." He says, handing you the spoon, gently pushing, and you walk away, laughing.

...

"Joel, catch." You say on another day, coming under his stairs and throwing him a pesto roll.

"Fucking amazing." He says with a mouthful after taking a big bite.

"Thank you. I'm testing them." You respond, almost skipping on your way back to the kitchen.

"Make some garlic ones!" He shouts.

"No!" You respond from the kitchen.

"Why not?" He yells, almost disappointed, his voice chocked on the rest of the roll he shoved in his mouth, and you come out of the kitchen.

"Because people come on dates here all the time!" You yell. "I don't want them kissing each other with garlic mouths." You say, already closer to him.

"Hmm. Is the atmosphere here romantic?" He asks, screwing a lightbulb.

"Very romantic." You say, smiling up at him. "Don't you think?" You ask him, and he finishes with the light, that starts brightening all of his best features as he climbs down the stairs, stopping close to your body.

"The only way to know is having a date here." He agrees, his eyes scanning your face, a sweet and adoringly smile on his lips. "You—"

When he opens them, one of your times goes off.

"My donuts." You say quietly, and he smiles, watching as you walk back into the kitchen.

...

"Are you ok with my brother coming over tomorrow?" He asks, throwing his equipment on the back of his truck.

"Yeah, sure. I don't want you going through the whole floor by yourself if you can have some help." You say, smiling.

He nods and stands near you, awkwardly shifting on his feet.

"Can I... Ask you something? And it's ok if you don't want to, I mean..." He stutters.

"What is it?" You ask.

"Is it ok if I bring us something to drink tomorrow?" He asks.

"Sure, I was already gonna bake you some rolls anyway." You say. "But is it to give you energy or to celebrate after you're done?" You ask with a smile, and he frowns, making you tilt your head to the side.

"No." He laughs, scrunching his eyes, gathering the courage to just say it. "I just — laughs — It's not for me and my brother... I wanted to ask you out, but we're already gonna be here tomorrow, so I was thinking of asking if we can hang out here, since we're already gonna be... here." He says, speaking fast so he doesn't have time to second guess himself.

"So you're asking me out... But in?" You ask, playfully, trying not to sound too excited.

"Yeah." He laughs. "Exactly." He says, his cheeks puffy and red as he looks down at you. "But I mean, I get it if you don't want to, if you want to keep it professional, you know?"

"Hmm, professionalism is kind overrated." You say.

"Alright, tomorrow night then." He's quick to say, not giving you time to second guess yourself. "We kick my brother out and hang out." He says, sighing, all of his stress leaving his body at once.

"Sure." You agree, laughing.

"Don't bake any garlic rolls, though." He adds, that sweet smile back on his lips.

"Oh, I'll exclusively bake them." You joke, and he smiles.

"See ya." He says.

"See ya." You say, walking away from him as he gets on his truck.

You're trying not to get your hopes too high. You are.

You're telling yourself there must me something about him that'll shatter the man you know. He can't be this charming, funny and good person he seems to be.

Or maybe you got lucky. Maybe he is all that.

Maybe tomorrow you're gonna have a great time, maybe you're gonna kiss him tomorrow.

You can't wait for tomorrow.

Hope you liked it 🩷

I wrote it right after finishing Pink Velvet, and spend the last week editing it. This series is so warming and comfortable for me that it hurts, I'm so happy you seemed to like it as much as I do 🩷🫶🏻

My Masterlist 🩷

#joel miller x reader #ghostfanwriter #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #fanfic #pedro pascal's characters #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #young joel miller #no outbreak!joel miller

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artfoold00k · 1 year

Text

OC Martia.

This is Martia Herrera Arroyo. Mexico-origin young marine ecologist trainee living in Rio de Janeiro.

She is quite ordinary compared to a crazy-fantasy-supernatural-universe-destroyer, but, hey, I love it this way as well.

I want to talk about her more but will put it under the cut + time-lapse process video.

So yesterday I worked spontaneously on one new character. The plan was a cell-shaded quick portrait for warm-up before focusing on complex commission work, but I zoned out completely.

Well, I HAVE NO BRAKES in art, ppl. I need to install them somewhere. Any ideas?

Martia is inspired by this picrew image I composed,

which, as you noticed, have blue eyebrows and no freckles.

Drawing the portrait took me around 4 hours total and mind ride on the thought-train-merry-go-round-style. Means, I was an inspiration-driven, lore-processing mess. ~(-◎y◎)

I'd be happy to share her lore after I'll write it down and filter. Till then, here is the time-lapse for the artwork

❔ Want to know about the CSP brushes I used for this portrait?

Feel free to ask me via contact here on Tumblr. It'll take time, but I'll do my best to answer.

🌮 Also, I'd appreciate it if you can advise me to integrate something genuine from Mexican culture/folklore into her image and lore.

#original character #mexicana #young female character #cute girl art #brazilian artists #digital artwork #professional artist #oc art #character design #tumblr radar #female oc #Adoops design

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etfrin · 6 months

Text

⤷❝ The Quiet Gift | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | squirting, Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, possessiveness, fingering (f. receiving), bathroom sex, mirror sex, semi-public sex (there was a gala), pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), dumbfication if you squint, dom sub undertones, degradation, ownership kink, breath play with a twist | lmk if I forgot anything!

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

⇢☾Summary: continuation of the arranged marriage au, this is your one year anniversary with him with a gala held in place to celebrate, you get insecure because of some bitches and Coryo fucks you in the bathroom with sprinkles of your daily life with him.

⇢☾Request: this is a request (idk if i’m writing it in the write place im new to tumblr i usually use wattpad) young coriolanus snow bathroom mirror sex like him making u watch ur self come undone in the mirror

⇢☾A/N: enjoy everyone! And to one who requested, hope you like this! :) this might be my last post of this theme btw, i am getting sick of the blue :/

arranged marriage au: the study, mine to love

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

A year had passed of your marriage, a bond between two souls which wasn't much of a lie as before. Things with Coryo were better than you could ever expect. You thought he would isolate himself from you after your confession but so much had changed. He had gotten softer but more possessive. His edges are sharp yet he makes sure it's a shield for you, not something that would make you bleed.

Among his actions include changing your entire wardrobe (not without your opinion first), a library that connects to his office (his office is something you have access to at all times now), his room was now yours both (your favorite change), and last but not least a poison taster was included so that no attempts of assassination at the First Lady could be taken.

At first, you thought it to be extra, but knowing that it would put his paranoid mind at peace you allow it without much to say. He picked out your outfit every day, and sometimes you did the same for Coriolanus. He would frown as you decide what to wear or not for him for the day, knowing that some of the pieces don't match his style but when he sees your smile as you pick out the clothes. He smooths his frown and takes whatever horrible fashion statement you created for him and wears it with pride.

If anyone dared to speak up about it, he proudly said that his wife picked it out and everyone knew better than to speak a single ill word of the unspoken Queen of Panem.

Today was one of those days when you decided to pick his outfit. Today was something special after all. One year had passed since you had become Mrs. Snow, and a gala was to be held tonight to celebrate the union.

So yes, you were going to pick his outfit. You had even woken up early because of it. You giggled as you opened your eyes, your arm around Coryo whose hair looked impossibly messy, sticking out everywhere. It made him look years younger than he was. You chuckled at the sight, your heart clenching with the love you have for this man. You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. You whispered, not expecting him to wake up until his alarm rang, “Good morning, Coryo”

You quietly slipped away from the bed and tiptoeed to the closet. The closet you both shared now. One side carrying every single piece of your clothing and the other side his. You wanted to pick out something different for your husband once, sick of seeing him in his white shirts and black vest. That's how you picked out a black suit with a white vest and a red silk shirt. You could imagine unbuttoning this off of him tonight and the thought made your body heat up and a giggle escaped your lips.

“What are you laughing about, doll?” A voice, his deep sleepy voice startling you. “Nothing!” You quickly said, turning to look at Snow, your breath hitching as his eyes were half closed and his hair turned into a mess of curls. Sometimes you wonder if this was all a fever dream and if you truly have the privilege of seeing him like this. You placed the clothes into a corner and went to him.

You pulled him down, your hand on his nape and another on his cheek as you guided him to your lips. Morning breath be damned. His actions were reflexive with how his arms pulled you in closer as his lips pressed into yours. He smiles against your lips and soon both of your tongues tangle in an uncoordinated sleepy manner and you whimper into his mouth.

This was real. This was your reality and you would do everything to keep it as it is. You pulled back and he whispered, “What was that for, doll?”

“Just needed to make sure this was real,” you answered him. Your words make him crack a real smile, something even you saw rarely and it would only be possible in moments like this. Moments when you have shocked the man with your actions and words and made him fall harder for you.

“Well it is,” he grins. Before his expression clears up he focuses on the clothes you have set aside. “Outfit for today?” He asked. You nod and smile at him, gesturing at the clothes. “You would look handsome in them,” you said. “Don't I always look handsome?” He smirks, you laugh, “I am not falling for that trap, dear husband. I'll be in the shower, choose something for me.” You press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the closet.

After showering and wearing the red dress he had decided, both of you go on for your respective duties. The gala would start early in the day and there were a few hours left before it formally started as guests were already coming in.

The mansion was set up beautifully, no words could have possibly explained the amount of work and dedication to make this the event of the year, valued higher than the Hunger Games itself. In another universe, it may not have been possible, in this one however you somehow managed to crack into his heart and made yourself a higher priority.

You were doing finishing touches of your makeup when Corio came in, his hair slicked back but his body tense, his eyes unable to hide the shakiness in them. You don't say anything, letting the man have his moment of vulnerability. You knew you would mess him up even more if you pointed it out, so you continued your task.

You didn't pay him any attention despite the itch to turn to him. You force yourself to stare straight into the mirror, applying your lipstick for the night. That was until he came behind you, his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest, his head propped on your shoulder as you felt him take deep breaths.

You don't ask if anything is wrong, accepting the rare form of intimacy he initiated. Usually, you're the ones for the hugs, the genuine ones anyway. You knew despite everything you were like a math equation to Snow. His mind figured out the formulas to keep you to him forever, you doubted if he saw anyone as his equal but you were perhaps the closest thing to it.

You had accepted it long before, but moments like this when Coriolanus allowed himself to be a human meant everything to you. You fell for every version of him, the one that is an untouchable deity who could kill you without guilt, and the human he was, obsession filling in veins making you the sole objective of his mind as he already achieved Panem.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths with him. In the end, you were human too and you broke. “What's wrong?” You asked, as softly as possible yet breaking the bubble that had formed.

He smirks through the mirror, his eyes meeting yours, a sense of superiority in the blue hues. “Nothing’s wrong, my doll,” he whispered to you, pressing a ghost-like kiss to your bare shoulder. His arms cage you tighter, making a small gasp on your lips. “Okay,” you smile at him.

“Ready to start the gala then?” You asked, “Snows are born ready,” he replied, his tone smug.

One of his arms was kept wrapped around his waist while the other opened a drawer to take out a small box. “For you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck. You opened the box, and in it was a gold necklace with the initial ‘S’. You blush, and leave it to Corio to give you a necklace with his initials for an anniversary gift. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your head turning back and you gave him the brightest smile. “Help me wear it?” You mumbled as you handed him the box.

And so he did, and now a necklace was on your neck, the letter ‘S’ sitting perfectly on your skin. It scratched an innate itch for Snow to see you wear this. A part of him had expected you to fight, and be disgusted by this action, his mind thinking of several ways to make (force) you to wear the necklace. But as always you surprised him with your acceptance, as if you knew that wearing this would help him with his possessiveness. You were truly the right woman for him.

With his arm around your waist, you walk into the celebration. Countless people, the top elites of the Capitol were attending the gala. Everything had to be perfect.

Alas, fate is nothing but fickle.

The rumors didn't catch your ears at first before slowly the whispers caught up to you. Too busy with your life in the mansion and with Coriolanus, you rarely were social. You never had many friends from the capitols' elites. And those who knew were merely allies for the future. So the gossip never reached your ears.

Gossip you knew better to believe. Words change when they travel mouth to mouth. It can be easily manipulated too, your husband was a living proof of that. The snake tongue of all of Panem. But when the words seemed to get louder and louder, you couldn't help but feel maybe it's tinged with truth.

Snow was busy talking to diplomats while you were politely having a conversation with the ladies. That's when the questions began about some things they had heard about Snow. Each worse than the other but nothing you didn't already know. You make sure to change their perspective whenever something new comes up. Coriolanus was still new at this position, anything could snatch the power away if either of you weren't careful.

Feeling like you have finished the job, you begin to move away, only to stop when you hear, “...even wearing a pendant with his initial, she's nothing more than a whore who was pushed up to play the role of the First Lady. A woman of her standing would never deserve such a title.”

It was true, when Snow asked you to marry you, it was sudden and he gained nothing from it. Nothing, no money, power, and just a few connections you had but he had already impressed them all beforehand so there was no need for you. Your history in the academy wasn't all that great either, you were never the best but wholly average. A man like Snow deserved the best.

Insecurity claws at your heart and even so with recent events you knew their words were wrong. Tears burned your eyes. Your hand goes to the necklace you had on, your fingers twirling the pendant. Meanwhile, despite Coriolanus' focus being mainly on talking sweet to the guests and gathering sponsors, his eyes were on you, your every moment, and each person you spoke to. He notices you walking away from the gala and into the hallways. He followed you.

You were in one of the many bathrooms the manor had to offer. You stared at the mirror, the necklace you were wearing, and your hands traveled to the back ready to take it off. That's when Coriolanus enters the bathroom, his footsteps stopping midtrack as you freeze too.

“Coryo,” you begin to speak, your hand at your side now. “I was just-” “Why were you going to take it off?” He interrupted you, his face twisted in a glare you never thought would be directed at you. You shrugged, trying to play casual, “It doesn't feel appropriate.” “Why?” He questioned his tone icy calm, spreading chills down your spine. “Because-” because you didn't feel worthy of it. “Because you're ashamed of me,” he scoffs, walking closer to you. His eyes now fully glaring at you.

You frown, “What? Coryo, no-” He tilts your chin up, as he leans in, his expression twisted in fury, “Then what? There's no other appropriate reason for you to take it off then.” In truth, something was getting lost in translation, the women you were talking to earlier were going to be accused of treason in a few days. The cause? The rumors (some truth mixed in as well) they had spread about Snow. They were invited out of courtesy and after this, they had signed their death certificate.

“It's nothing like-” “Then what?” He hissed, “Did you finally come to your senses? Did they tell you how much of a horrible monster I am? And a horrible president?” You knew some sort of major miscommunication had happened but you had no idea how to deal with it. Not when Snow pressed a harsh, hard kiss to your lips, teeth clashing and his tongue seemingly fighting with yours for dominance that you easily gave over.

“You can't escape me, doll. No matter how horrible you realize I am. Think about running away and it's your dead body that will be leaving this mansion.” he whispered against your lips, his hands on your waist, your body flushed against his as your back hit the counter.

You chuckled at his words, knowing that would never be your end. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and it makes you giggle even further. “Dove, I am not joking,” he said, looking straight in your eyes. “I know,” you smile at him, “You…” you shake your head, smiling, you were surely crazier than him. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Those women said something… mean and it made me realize I may not be worthy of this necklace…” you begin to explain, hoping the explanation would calm him down.

You thought wrong. “You don't think I can decide who deserves to be my property, pet. Whom I let to be my queen,” he said, his tone deeper than before. He whispered, “I decided it's you. It's been a year since that decision and I haven't regretted it once.”

He manovaroued you so you were facing the mirror. He was right behind you, his eyes hard. “The woman you're looking at right now is mine. My pet. My wife. How dare you try to take off a mark of my ownership, doll?” You opened your mouth to apologize, but a moan escaped instead as he bit into your shoulder. He begins to press you against the counter, your body bending over as he continues to press wet kisses on your nape.

“You need a reminder about whom you belong to,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin making you shiver, heat spreading to your body as his hands unzipped your dress from behind, letting the fabric fall on the floor. “I am yours,” you moan to him as his palms knead your breasts through the bra. “Then you should have known better, my stupid bird.”

“You look away from the mirror even once…,” he said, his hands squeezing your breasts roughly, his head propped up to your shoulder, his face set in a smirk, “and that group of women dies.” They were going to die either way but you didn't know that.

You gasp, “Snow- '' His hands squeeze your breasts harder, bordering on pain. “It’s Coryo for you, dove,” he said, slowly yet firmly as if talking to a child. His hands move downwards, one moves to your hip, and for the other, his fingers slip inside your panties. You whimper when his fingertip touches your clit. At any other time, he would have been slow, and gentle when he was rubbing the bud but now? His touch was fast and unconcerned, his sole goal was to inflict punishment with pleasure.

He rubbed at your clit relentlessly, making you soak your panties with your juices. His other hand squeezes your hips. You whine, your eyes closing and he pinches your clit making you moan louder than you should, your eyes opening immediately to meet his gaze.

“Only warning, pet,” he whispered, his finger now playing with the clit even more relentlessly. Back and forth, up and down with no mercy, making the bud swollen and your pussy clench around nothing. “Yes, Coryo,” you gasp.

“My dumb pet can learn after all,” he whispered to your ear and then his lips kissed the clasp of your necklace. His fingers abandon your clit to swipe at your folds to gather your wetness. He chuckles as he continues to tease you like this, his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Coryo,” you whispered and your eyes connected with his and you knew his fingers could feel the flex of your cunt around nothing. “That's it. Look at me, doll.”

He slipped his fingers one by one into your slit, the stretch making you gasp. “It's too much,” you managed to get out, your voice shaky. “You can take it,” he tuts. His fingers begin to message your wall, hitting every crook and canny you never knew existed. He twisted his fingers thrusting right at your g-spot making you moan loudly, your body was now completely bent over in front of the mirror and your hands gripped the counter for life. Snow continues to playfully stretch you out, scissoring your pussy with his long fingers.

When he finally deemed you loose enough, he pulled his fingers out without a warning making you whimper. He pulls down your panties around your knees, and then his hand unzipped his pant to take his cock out. Something in you liked how he was composed and fully clothed while having you like this, primal and debauched. It showcased Coriolanus perfectly, no matter how prim and proper the man was outside in the end he was as much of a mess.

His impatient was clear with his clenched jaw, one of his hands traveling upwards your body to grip your breast like a handle as his free hand guides his leaking, hard cock into your entrance. “I was going to fuck you good tonight, on a bed properly like a wife deserves,” he begins to say as he pushed in with a single stroke. Your mouth lets out a small scream as your pussy adjusts to his dick. “Instead I have to treat you like a whore, bending your ass over a counter and fuck you while there are people all over the mansion.” He shakes his head disappointed, he meets your gaze, “I expected better, doll.”

“Then why keep a disappointment around,” you snapped at him, making him raise his eyebrows at your tone, his cock twitching inside your walls. “I wonder that myself too,” he grunts, his face buried in your shoulder, his tongue licking your salty skin. “You’re my everything,” he whispered, “Don't you forget that, dove.”

It was a confession that made you turn your back and made you catch his lips. He groans into your mouth as both of your tongues play with each other, expressing words the others cannot say. His free hand went to grip your necklace chain, making you gasp as he fisted the chain and pulled at it, knocking at your breath in one go.

His hips had begun to pound into you, short, hard thrusts that made his cockhead press against your g-spot while his remaining length messaged your walls perfectly. “You don't have to think, doll. I am here to think for you. You don't have to think about deserving me, or Panem. You don't have to think at all, just be my bird. My bird only,” he grunts.

Your eyes had begun to see spots from the lack of air, he hadn't seemed to care as your pussy keeps squeezing around him because of it. He lets go of the chain, making you gasp and you take the air you desperately need as his thrusts begin to get sloppier. Coryo was too impatient, too worked up, too mad at you to care about your pleasure. You were a pet getting used and you loved every second of it.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and he groaned in response, as his thrusts got slower. He was edging himself to last longer, for this not to end. He bites your nape, not hard as he does usually to make sure the mark fades in a few seconds. His hips continue to rock into you, both of his hands now kneading at your clothed breast. He makes your round flesh spill from the bra and cups them with a groan escaping his lips.

“You’re mine,” he said as he pressed wet kisses all over your neck and shoulders, “Mine.” Your pussy clenched around him, making his pace get even slower, frustration begins to claw your mind as your body tethers to the edge. “Yours,” you agreed. “Fuck me faster,” you plead.

He lets out a laugh, “No. You'll take what I'll give.” “Coryo, my love please!” You begged. His hips stutter, making you feel confused, before realizing why he had stopped. You hadn't called him that since that night and you realized you had leverage on the man.

“My love, please! Fuck me harder,” you spill, “Baby, please!” He clenched his jaw trying so hard not to give in to the instinct of rutting into you like an animal. Knowing that he was near the edge, you continue, “Cum in me and make me walk around the gala with your cum inside, please. Please, mark me!”

That did the trick rather perfectly. His hand wraps around your throat, not choking you but staying there as a comforting presence that shouldn't have been comforting at all. “My dumb pet has ways with words. Gotta fuck that out of you, my dove,” he smirked.

His hips begin to roll into you again, making you gasp and squeeze his dick with your slick walls. The start of it was slow and cautious before Coriolanus decided to throw it all in the wind. He takes half of his length out before slamming it back to you. The sound of hips snapping echoed into the air along with his grunts and your moans. He kept fucking into you, with no care about anything.

Both of your sights were obscene in the mirror and it turned you not to end. Your body had begun to heat, your pussy aching to cum after being played with for so long. The tension in your body was close to snapping, and he knew it too. Knew it the way your cunt kept sucking his cock in so well. His head was on your shoulder, his mouth breathing out hot air onto your skin.

“Look at me,” you whispered, and his eyes snap at you and not even a second later he spills into your cunt, fucking his cum into you as he lets out a whine for the first time. You gasp, feeling your build-up fading without snapping but Snow was never to disappoint. He pulled his cock out, just to stuff you with his fingers. You whimper, your sensitive walls twitching around his fingers, so close to breaking.

Coriolanus doesn't waste a second to thrust into your sopping cunt, your folds covered in his cum, and fucking that into you with his fingers. He crooks his fingers perfectly, hitting your g-spot and making you black out for a second as his fingers keep assaulting your insides without a care.

You gasp, your body starting to give up. Snow has to wrap an arm around you to help you stay balanced. “That's it, doll. Cum on my fingers. I will make you cum on my cock later,” he promised to you. You cry out as his fingers continue their fast pace of thrusting. And finally, finally, your orgasm builds up again. A single graze from his fingertip onto your spongy spot has you not only cumming but squirting too.

Even Coriolanus eyes widen in surprise as you spill your juices onto the floor, ruining your dress and everything. You begin to feel ashamed of losing control in such a manner, but Coryo curses, “Fuck, doll. Fuck, that was…” He couldn't even finish the sentence.

You close your eyes, feeling yourself close to losing balance, only for Snow to swipe your legs from the floor and carry you to the bathtub.

“I’ll take care of you, doll,” he said, “I’ll bring in a new set of clothes, wait.” “What about the gala?” You asked. He kissed your temple before he replied, “I told everyone to leave the moment you walked away. Told everyone you were sick and as your husband, I shall be taking care of you.”

You let out a raspy chuckle, it was rather amazing how Coriolanus Snow always turned everything in his favor. Even this would help his image of being a president who took such good care of his wife and would surely take the country to great lengths.

“Snow lands on top,” you whispered to him with a smile.

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