note from author: all works are 18+ ; ☽ indicates explicit sexual content ; home

includes ... CORIOLANUS SNOW; SEJANUS PLINTH; FINNICK ODAIR

but he shuts you up anyway. he offers what you want—him, his dick—after your tantrum. but just when you think you've won, when you're grinning and laying back to slide your panties off, he stops you. he changes positions, taking your spot, making you straddle over his lap.

and the sight is fucking amusing. your pout, your incredulous expression, the way he swears he can see your big eyes start to well up with tears threatening to spill over.

he can't help but taunt you.

"what's the matter, doll? is this not what you wanted? you wanted my dick, right?"

you nod, playing with your nails, adjusting your position to hover more over his cock.

"yes, but–" he interrupts you.

"'but'? there is no but."

there's no room for argument in his tone. no room for discussion, either. you either take what he's giving you or you get nothing at all. you either fuck yourself on his cock, something he knows you don't prefer at all, or you continue sulking around the apartment with a greedy and empty cunt.

coriolanus knows you're not a quitter. so he's left with a front row seat to you struggling to pleasure yourself in ways only he knows how. you're lacking skills because of him, a problem of his creation. he's spoiled you, giving you what you wanted whenever you wanted, treating you with orgasm after orgasm in whatever position could reach the deepest.

like this, he's deep within you, but not deep enough. and even so, you barely know what to do with it.

and while he doesn’t necessarily fall for you, not in the way he did as a teenager, he finds himself drawn to you.

he finds himself liking the quickness of your tongue. the confidence in your words and in your body.

he finds himself enjoying the push and pull between you two. both pretending not to need nor want the other, only to find each other in the late night with raw desire driving your actions.

his favorite part is the game of it all. the false pretenses in words with hidden meanings. the constant teasing, both in and out of the bedroom. the jealousy that clouds both of your judgements, leading to you using other capitol patrons for personal gain.

sending glances to each other while on the arm of someone else. hidden smirks when foreign hands trail to places only each other are allowed to touch. even letting the others get almost completely there, solely to rile each other up. to see which one of you will break first.

and almost always, it’s coriolanus coming over to you with seething blue eyes, a trait only you can recognize. “excuse us,” spoken a little too harsh, a little too clipped, as he takes you away from the event and pushes you into the car.

sometimes he doesn’t even make it home before he has his fingers inside of you in the car. other times, he doesn’t even bother trying to get home, instead pulling you into an empty room and making you drop to your knees for him.

he's addicted to consuming you. it seems to be all that's on his mind. every time he sees you, it's like he's reminded of the things you could be doing.

instead of staring at each other from across the room he could be pining you to the bed.

instead of having small talk over a cup of mediocre tea he could be grabbing you by the hair as he forces you down his cock.

instead of being forced to listen to your classmates drone on and on about who knows what, he could be losing himself in the presses of your soft skin against his, something that feels so right to him.

he likes to imagine tearing you apart when he fucks you, doing so from the inside out. breaking you down to your wits end and until you're nothing but a shell of who you were when you started.

my question for u is where do u think those spots on his body are?? i’m feeling neck in general, but smth about his vibe gives me sensitive nipple energy👀

first of all oh my god ??? "word of god" ... so lets kiss rn

second, you're absolutely right about the nipples. an accidental discovery for both of you for sure, as you were teasing him by kissing down his body, making your way to the tent in his briefs, and your hand grazed his nipple and he twitched into you instead of away. that was the first sign, and then there was the time you were smoothing out his button up shirt, staring up at him admiringly and not noticing your hands gliding over his pecs. he shuddered, stopped, and you both Knew what had happened.

he's being so shameless. he can't handle his liquor, and everyone around you knew it.

you still have posca in your cup, not nearly good enough for you to keep sipping but you need to keep your hands busy because if they weren't, they would be all over coriolanus just like his are all over you.

trailing up and down your sides, pressing into knots in your shoulders or along your lower back, trailing over your ass in your new jeans, trying to subtly slip between your thighs from behind when no one's looking (and even when eyes are on you both). you try to ignore him, but he's restless, pressing his crotch into your ass and begging in your ear.

"please, can we go somewhere else? everyone here is boring anyway." you can hear the pout in his words, you don't even have to see him to know it's there.

his curls tickle your cheeks, his lips do the same with your earlobe, and it's harder and harder for you to resist.

but it's certainly not hard for you to keep teasing him when you are alone. occupying one of the many guest rooms of arachne's flashy home. your legs crossed at the knee, coriolanus' weak and shaky hands attempting to push them apart to no avail, his voice getting whinier each time.

"baby," the nickname shocks you. your eyebrows shoot up, you adjust your elbow which presses into the mattress, you sip from your cup with a hum.

"please?"

you let the drink sit on your tongue, shrug, swallow. your legs spread just a little, enough to make coriolanus' eyes widen.

you pity him just enough, letting your legs fall open and coriolanus is instantly between them. his hands go for your panties, but you tut and close your legs, both hands unfortunately occupied.

he stares up at you, eyes looking so pitiful that it hurts you a little. "what?" he asks, shock in the singular word. but you don't back down.

thinking about coriolanus who treats your body like an experiment.

as much as he tried to resist the effect, working under doctor gaul has started to impact his perception about the human body. he stops seeing it as a machine designed to work almost self sufficiently, and starts to wonder just how much the human body can take. he spends more time in gaul's laboratory, gazing at the sight of the human mutations which still make his stomach turn, flipping through the collections of notes created by the head gamemaker herself, and he suddenly starts to want to conduct his own research.

just on a much smaller caliber, one that will make his stomach turn in excitement instead of disgust.

it's easy enough to get you to agree, especially whenever he doesn't tell you exactly what he's doing. instead, he coerces you. he kisses you dumb and sweet talks your pretty little head off until you're left with nothing to do but let him work you however he wanted to.

anytime you start to protest, if your body starts to recoil and reach a false limit, he lays it on thick, praising you when you haven't even done anything special, kissing your inner thighs and letting your nails trail in his hair. (he doesn't complain about you messing it up even when something in him wants to)

it's rare that he'll get as bare as you. he likes to keep everything in tact, wearing trousers and a button up, only his outerwear and cuff links gone so he can roll his sleeves up to his elbows. while he stays pristine, he doesn't mind when you coat his clothing in your fluids, especially if you squirt on him. it's nothing but an ego boost for him, a visual display that he'd made a new breakthrough.