Tell The Moths In My Tummy To Relocate, Please

Tell the moths in my tummy to relocate, please

Synopsis: In which 40° weather grants you insight into Satoru’s powers Word Count: 2.0k

Story Content: Female reader, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Seemingly unrequited pining, Idiots in love but they don’t even know it yet, Slow-burn (doesn’t get anywhere), Crackfic, We learn the many ways in which Satoru can use his technique, Reader POV!

A/N: this is a celcius only household (kidding. but not really.) This has been in my drafts for a reaaaally long time im just glad its out honestly

GOJO SATORU is a frigid blast of cold air during a warm summer day. 

It’s surprising, considering his typical characterisation. People, yourself included, likened him to the sun. Bright and blinding. That’s how the pillar of the Jujutsu world should be, they’d say. He’s the epitome of sorcery. The honored one, they’d praise. 

Just to be clear, you thought of him as the sun for entirely different reasons. Reasons that you weren’t about to go into too detail about. But just as a tiny, small little hint: It had to do with his body temperature. And you were currently being quickly betrayed by what you once thought was fact.

“Am I a portable air-con?”

“Yeah,” you spit at him. Half in betrayal and half in fascination, you huff, gripping his elbows to keep him still as you tuck your body against him, forcing his technique over you with your own. 

The chill settles into your bones and makes you sigh sweetly. It almost makes you forget about how the sun was shining a little too brightly into your eyes. 

In the back of your mind, you can’t help but envy him and his thousand dollar shades. Did he bring a spare? Could you have them? 

Keep reading

button ; coriolanus snow. (m)

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; what did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. misshaped. odd. not matching the rest of your buttons. his gift to you. “you’re wearing it,” coriolanus whispered. his voice sounded strained.

words ; 3.4k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, smut

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex (not very explicit), possessiveness, themes of classism, we meet reader's rich parents !! and grandma'am and tigris appear, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a third part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Your home was the very definition of old money—wealth and grace and high status carved into the marble floors, hung up in the large oil paintings, found within the fibers of the expensive carpets leading into grand halls. Snow had to consciously remind himself to appear unphased. He had this sort of life, too, as far as you were concerned.

It was only expected, especially considering your parents’ high positions: with your father being the top admiral of the navy, and your mother a renowned physicist with several awards under her belt. Dozens of rows of medals and framed certifications from both your parents were more than enough for Snow to gauge the mass of their importance.

He shifted the weight of his feet in his too-tight shoes. Anxious. He wore his dress shirt again, though not before asking Tigris to try and rework the buttons. The buttons hewn from his bathroom tiles. Make them look the same, he had told her. They’re uneven. Snow turned away before he could see her mildly crestfallen expression.

It was a special occasion, hence his dressed-up attire. There was a rose pinned to his waistcoat, a deep shade of red, from his Grandma’am’s rooftop garden. Your father had come home today, after months of military work in the districts. And to celebrate such a momentous evening, you invited him to dinner. 

To meet your parents. How utterly fraught.

Though, now that the two of you were officially together (albeit only recently—Sejanus asked if the two of you were a thing and Coryo replied with an instinctive, possessive yes, much to both of your surprise), Coriolanus supposed there was no use in delaying the inevitable.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told him, arm looped around his. The white rose he’d given you upon his arrival was tucked neatly behind your ear, a lovely contrast to your all-black garb. In a light-hearted tone, you added, “Father would be able to smell it on you. The fear.”

Coriolanus shot you an exasperated glance, to which you only smiled. You landed a soft, reassuring kiss onto his cheek, hand sliding down from his elbow to lace with his. 

“You look… breathtaking,” he said, lifting your conjoined palms to brush his lips over your knuckles. Of the many lies that he told you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. 

Your eyes gleamed with the light from the chandelier hanging above you.

“And you look handsome as ever.” A pause. You seemed bashful all of a sudden, averting your gaze to the gold patterns on the marble floors. “I know this is all very new, so I apologize in advance, if my father asks about our, uhm… our future… He’s a very forward man.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and he slotted his free hand beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly over the side of your throat, forcing you to look back at him. “I have no intention of letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You smiled again, all sunlight and warmth, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but steal it away with one last kiss. 

“Ready?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the dining room. 

Snow swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Dinner was quite a pleasant affair. The food was better than anything the academy ever served—Coriolanus wondered how you could willingly go from eating such delicacies at home to basic, run-of-the-mill meals the cafeteria provided. There were courses, tender peppered steaks (his very favorite), rich mushroom soups, iced lemon cakes, and several sorts of breads and butters were offered all throughout.

Your mother was a delight, enchanting him with stories of laboratory mishaps and her dangerous adventures with radioactive material. You looked a lot like her, he realized.

Your father, on the other hand, was pressing at first, grilling Coriolanus with dozens of personal questions. If you hadn’t warned him beforehand that he was a military leader, he most definitely would’ve worked it out for himself then. There were times where you politely but forcefully snapped at him, telling him to lay off the invasive interrogation and to let the poor man eat. But Coriolanus really didn’t mind—he’d spent hours upon hours preparing himself for this. He answered all of the questions with effortless ease.

By the third course, your father was satisfied. Reluctant, but satisfied. By the fourth, he was already asking about marriage, much to your mortification. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, and quietly listened to you lecture your father about privacy and civility.

Yes, dinner was quite enjoyable. Several containers of food from unseen servants were wrapped up for him to take home, at your request, despite his polite protests. It wasn’t a common thing to do in the capitol, but your parents hadn’t batted an eye. 

He was safe. They didn’t know. It was an ongoing mantra the entire night.

He was shown out the door by your father, who clapped a large hand on his shoulder and told him to take care of you, especially while he was gone. Your mother kissed him once on each cheek as farewell, and you did the same, though your kisses strayed far closer to his lips. He caught the mischievous gleam in your eyes. 

The door shut behind him once he strode into the expansive courtyard in front of your mansion of a home. He glanced down at the rose pinned to his coat, wondering if you were still wearing yours behind your ear. A minute later, he jumped out of his reverie when the entrance creaked open once more. You peeked your head back out, eyes alight, pleased to see that he was still there. 

You slid out from the entryway and made your way to him with quick strides, wasting no time to rest your hands upon his chest. To his delight, you were still wearing the rose. “Father and mother left to watch television in the estate’s Northern wing. Didn’t want to kiss you in front of them.”

There were wings to your house? Coriolanus blinked at you, accidentally letting his indifferent mask slip for a few seconds. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly. It took him another moment to gather his wits, before winding his arms about your waist and deepening the kiss, nearly bending you backwards with his vigor.

He could never tire of this, he thought, fingers curling so his nails dug into the expensive black fabric of your top. Kissing you, touching you, entertaining the notion that you were his, and only his. 

When you pulled away, your lips were wonderfully kiss-swollen and your pupils were blown wide, to his amusement. Were his eyes just the same?

“Thank you for being here today,” you mumbled, that smile-frown he was so fond of gracing your features once more. “I’m sorry if my parents were too—”

“They were wonderful. You’re wonderful,” he interrupted, tone soft. His hand lifted from your waist to cup your face. Cold fingers against flushed skin. “I’ll see you at the academy?”

A nod, a grin, and a relieved sigh. “Sleep well, Coryo.”

“You, too.” He pulled away, reluctant, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. “You look good with it, you know. The rose.” With a final nod, he turned on his heel and walked away from your estate, back to his own cold penthouse, where he had to burn newspaper scraps to keep warm.

The months drew by like a lazy stream of water, gliding over a bed of stones, languid and pleasant. Your time with Coriolanus was nothing short of utter bliss. He was a sweet lover, despite his possessive streaks, always making sure you were alright with what he was doing. The two of you went slow and steady, always asking, always gentle. He kissed you as if you were made of sugar glass, and you held onto him as if he was a fragile ceramic vase.

Exams were drawing nearer with each passing day, and the two of you found yourself studying and cramming more than anything. He would often tell you that there was no need for you to study so hard, especially when you were already at the very top, likely to claim the Plinth prize for yourself, but you always waved him away with a modest laugh. If the two of you weren’t at the library pouring over dozens upon dozens of books, you were finding ways to sneak him into your home: kissing behind stone statues in the gardens, hiding behind velvet curtains, pulling him onto your massive, four-poster bed.

It was only a matter of time until you asked.

His arm was draped over your bare midriff, drawing mindless shapes into your hip. Your head rested back against his chest, mildly sweaty from the lovemaking session the two of you were still dwindling down from. You stared out your window, watching the sun slowly bleed the sky a hazy clementine hue, teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip in thought.

“Why haven’t we ever studied at your home, Coryo?” you asked. “I’ve yet to meet your cousin. You talk about her a lot… she seems wonderful.”

You felt a cold breath billow over the back of your neck. It sent pleasant chills spider down your spinal column. And you could’ve imagined it, but his fingers seemed to flex over your bare flesh. Twitch. Almost antsy. Did your question make him uncomfortable?

Shifting in his grasp, you turned within his arms so you could face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you, or anything. I just… just know that I’d never judge you.”

His expression was near unreadable, the blue of his eyes even paler than usual with the sunset’s light casting a honey-glow over both of your sprawled-out forms. He kissed you again, hungrily, almost as if to distract you. You let him.

Kiss you, touch you, bruise you. Any of it, all of it.

A low groan barreled within his chest when you fisted a handful of his soft blonde waves at the base of his neck, gently tugging. 

“Nothing you could show me would make me love you any less,” you muttered against his lips, nose nudging against his. “Nothing, Coryo.”

And he, in a moment of love-addled weakness, let himself believe you.

Come the next afternoon, you were at the door of the Snows’ penthouse, a basketed batch of warm cookies held in one hand, the other holding a heavy bag full of all your textbooks to study. If the two of you were going to study at all today. Your mother was aghast that you were about to visit his home without some sort of gift, and abruptly shoved the basket of goodies into your arms out of seemingly nowhere, as if materialized out of thin air.

“Coriolanus loves the chocolate chip ones,” she harrumphed whilst ushering you out the door. “Honestly, showing up to someone else’s home empty-handed? Who raised you?”

The irony was not lost on either of you, and you barked out a laugh before kissing her farewell and setting off to visit him. 

You rang the rusted doorbell once—curiously regarding the little button once you realized that it was broken. Then, you knocked the door twice, then another two times for good measure. There was a muffled scuffling behind the door, a woman’s voice echoing from behind.

And when it swung open, you were met with an elderly woman, shrouded in a too-large, black tunic with embroidered flowers on the sleeves, the threads loose and pulled, the once-vibrant colors faded. She wore a turban, covering most of her white hair save for the few thin tendrils framing the sides of her face. 

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus’ classmate,” you greeted, in an ever-so-capitol-esque manner. “You must be his… Grandma’am?”

She appeared confused for a moment, before slow sparks of recognition fired across her blue eyes. Coriolanus had the same eyes, you noted.

“Oh!” she crooned. “Oh, dear me! Coriolanus! It’s your lovely friend!” 

There was a bit of commotion down the hall. The brief moment of pause allowed you to finally take in why Coriolanus hadn’t wanted you to come to his home all this time. The penthouse was still quite lavish, as the Snow estate was one of the most expensive properties in the capitol, but it was clear that the space was diminishing with the weight of its upkeep—flickering lights, dusty floors, tears in the wallpapers, mold on the countertops…

Your attention was drawn away from the view when Tigris and Coryo emerged from the same room, and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break across your features. His cousin was fretting over his lopsided curls, and he discreetly tried to duck out of her way to get to you.

“My, you are just as gorgeous as he said you were!” Grandma’am said in a pitching tone, wrangling your attention back to her. She lifted her hands to lightly pinch at your cheeks. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.” Her fingers fell away and she scuttled off, murmuring something about the Capitol’s First Partner—

Coriolanus breathed out your name and his hand was on your shoulder, apologizing once, twice, three times (what was he even apologizing for?), before Tigris popped up by his side, bumping him out of the way so she could shake your hand vigorously.

“Hi! I’m Tigris—it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You shook the blonde woman’s hand, smile seeming to grow impossibly wider. “It’s nice to meet you, too! I love your dress.”

Her mouth dropped open in a flustered manner and a lovely rose shade dusted over her cheekbones. “Oh, this old thing?” She absentmindedly smoothed a hand down the frills of her pink dress. “Yeah, I… oh, it’s nothing, really, I just made it myself.”

“That’s incredibly impressive! You must be a really talented seamstress.”

A sharp clear of his throat made your eyes snap back to Coriolanus. 

“Coryo,” you greeted warmly. “I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip. Mother sends her regards.”

The two Snows in front of you eyed the basket with large eyes. 

“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the basket from your extended hands and handing it over to his cousin. “Tigris, if you’d excuse us—we’ve got some studying to do.”

Coriolanus began to tug you down the hall, and you waved back to Tigris, telling her that you’d love to see any of her other dresses later. She’d already reached into the basket and had a cookie halfway to her mouth as she nodded at you with a toothy grin.

His room was in around the same state as the rest of the home. Furniture was old, torn, frayed, or simply broken. There were several boarded-up holes in his dresser. There was a box of rat poison below his desk, which was full with all sorts of papers and stacks of yellowing books. You skittered in and dropped your heavy bag down by his bed, allowing him to close the door behind you. You just barely registered the click of a lock.

“So?” he asked, voice sounding much louder in such a confined space. He seemed tense, as if bracing himself for the worst. “Are you disgusted yet?”

“What do you take me for?” you replied easily, having already gathered why he was so afraid of bringing you here in the first place. “I’m not a leech, nor am I vain, Coriolanus. I don’t want more money, and I’m not here to offer you charity to flaunt my wealth. I thought you’d know that by now.”

He stalked closer, observing you like a wolf would its prey. “What is it you want, then?”

When you took a step back closer to his small, rather wiry bed, he would take two longer strides, crowding you back against it. He dipped forward so that his lips were only a hair’s breadth from yours, but just barely not touching.

“You know, I’m sure.”

“I do.” Coriolanus knew that you wanted him just for him, and nothing gave him more pleasure than that simple fact. His nose brushed yours. 

“Would it make me a fool to stay?” you asked, the question fanning over his mouth. Inviting, ever so tantalizing. “You’re not planning on chopping me up and selling my organs for some cash, are you?”

He didn’t laugh at your little joke. Instead, he dove forward, one hand yanking your hips to his, the other winding over to the back of your head. He kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue, hardened lips and his knee slotting between your thighs. 

“No,” he susurrated thickly, as if he’d swallowed honey and soil, pressing you down until you were fully laid down over his rickety bed, back arched. “You’d be mine. All of you, just mine.”

He swallowed any sort of gasp and moan that fell from your mouth. Greedy, lustful, determined to make you pliable. His kisses didn’t slow down whatsoever when he tore himself away from your lips, freckling them down your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. 

What did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. 

Misshaped. Odd. Not matching the rest of your buttons. His gift to you.

“You’re wearing it,” Coriolanus whispered. His voice sounded strained.

“Mmh?” You glanced down at the button. “Oh. Of course, I am. I like how it looks.”

His face hovered above yours once more. His stare was so intense you began to shy away, staring at a moldy patch on the ceiling. The silence felt suffocating as you waited for him to do something. Anything.

“I love you,” he breathed out, finally. Upfront and abrupt. It wasn’t often that he said it. Maybe once or twice before, since you said it more than enough for the both of you. 

You laughed then—your wonderful, wind-chime laughter. It was more out of shock than anything. He kissed you soft and sweet, momentarily quelling your chuckling. But as the afternoon of so-called ‘studying’ drew on, the laughter melded into sighs of pleasure when clothes were shed, shifting towards wanton moans of desperation when heated flesh slid against one another. 

You nearly choked when his length breached your entrance, scratching faint red lines down the expanse of his back as he pushed in, pulled out. Rhythmic. Again and again and again—you couldn’t seem to get enough of him on top of you, inside of you, all around you. Your chest was pressed up against his; could he hear your heart beating through your ribs, yearning to feel his? The coil within your lower abdomen tightened. He read your every microexpression just perfectly.

He’d unbuttoned your entire shirt save for the oddly-shaped one, hands groping all over your bare skin, teeth biting down onto the patch of skin just above the button as he rocked himself into a climax, roping you down into the abyss with him. Ragged groans and broken sighs. 

Coriolanus dragged his tongue up your chest and your neck, leaving a cold trail in his wake, and he sucked in a deep breath. When he pulled back to stare at you—flushed, hair mussed, sweat beaded along your hairline, his pearlescent spend between your thighs, your eyes half-lidded… chest only barely covered by his one button…

“Thank you,” he croaked, kissing the space beside your left eye. “For not running.”

“Don’t make me a fool for it,” you replied, looping your arms over Coriolanus’ neck so he could kiss you properly.

megumi fushiguro x f!reader, 5.9k

THEMES: established relationship, time skip au w aged up characters, non-canon compliant bc they deserve happy endings and canon is merely a guideline, implied smut

SUMMARY: you miss your boyfriend. the way to handle it? dissuade him from his stupid game addiction in a thousand silly ways.

A/N: this is very unserious i’m sorry. also this is a repost of another fic i deleted…... yikes !

GAME START

You wouldn’t call yourself a video game hater.

It would be so hypocritical of you, when you’ve played games here and there. When you were a kid, your mom had bought you one of those Nintendo DS consoles, and you’d been just as obsessed with Cooking Mama like every other kid in your neighborhood. Even in recent years, you’d played some popular ones, like Mario Kart, with your friends.

You’re just not in love with it. Not like Itadori, or Inumaki or Fushiguro were.

There were other things you were more interested in, more relaxing things that didn’t involve so much violence at three in the morning. Like watching Netflix. Online shopping. Peaceful, healthy, productive.

But hey, who were you to judge?

Your lives as jujutsu sorcerers were stressful, taking so much of your free time—if your friends felt like killing pixel monsters on their little PC screens until the sun rose was relaxing, they were absolutely valid for it.

You don't think it’s helping Megumi, though.

Megumi needs sleep. Loves it, even. Despite his cold exterior, Megumi’s actually the opposite; he’s cute and cuddly. Like a cute, cuddly bear. And like a bear, he hibernates too. When you guys get rare, well-earned breaks, Megumi often forgoes going out just so he can sleep the time away. He even takes naps in the afternoon after lunch, and you’ve lost count of how many times Kugisaki has attacked him for taking so long to get up in the mornings and making them late to missions.

And yet, he squanders the time he could be sleeping to play video games.

You don't get it. Video games can be super fun, you know from experience, but to lose sleep over it? How relaxing can a game be, when all it does is leave you tired and grumpy in the morning?

Normally, you like to mind your own business when it comes to the things your friends like to do in their personal time, but you find yourself wanting to convince Megumi against his current methods of de-stressing.

But Megumi is a surprisingly complex creature.

(To others, of course. He is simple to you because you’re well-versed in his silly little ways.)

If you want to dissuade Megumi from video games, you have to be smart about it. You have to play it cool, lest Megumi catches on and becomes stubborn about it. You’ll be smooth about this. You’ll be cooler than cool about it. Chill. Yeah.

Yeah.

RESULT:

YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 0

.

.

.

ROUND ONE

The first part of your fool-proof plan (the fool being Megumi) was to straight up annoy your target into giving up on his video games.

You cooly stand by the threshold of Megumi’s room. Your hands are in your pocket. You’re freshly showered, which you want to emphasise for reasons. Reasons: you’re fresh, relaxed, ready to engage and be annoying.

Megumi hasn’t even noticed you. He’s got those large headphones like a real gamer, and his fingers are angrily typing over his keyboard.

Perfect, you think. He’s already agitated.

You smile to yourself, covering your mouth lest anyone accuses you of being evil. You straighten up and begin your move.

You clear your throat.

Megumi doesn’t acknowledge you. Hmm.

You clear your throat again, this time louder, and still—Megumi doesn’t even give you a single glance. Wow.

You feel your hackles rise at being ignored. It’s kind of rude of Megumi to not even acknowledge you. Is his video game really that important?

Maybe you should scare him.

You don't even need to tiptoe your way to where he’s sitting at his computer desk. You walk up to him and even stand behind him for a good moment without being noticed. You shake yourself, getting ready to give Megumi a good scare—

Megumi screams.

The sudden scream sends you jumping in the air and toppling onto the floor. With your heart pounding in your chest and your whole body lying on the floor, you see Megumi throw his headphones in rage, cussing, “That fucking bastard—“

Megumi stops mid-sentence. His brows raise, and he tilts his head to the side in question, “Hey. What are you doing down there?”

You feel absolutely pathetic and try not to show it as you push yourself up from the ground. “I’ve been calling your name all this time and you were ignoring me.”

Megumi blinks before averting his eyes in embarrassment, “Oh. I had noise-cancelling headphones on.” He turned to look back at you, his mouth puckered like the little carat sign on the keyboard. He extends a hand to you, ”Sorry.”

You exaggerate your pout, “What are you sorry to me for?”

Megumi pouts too, and you think that it’s so unfair how affected you are about it. Like your entire world just shifted, moving to focus on Megumi’s pout and do everything you can to alleviate what’s causing it. Megumi flutters his lashes, swaying your joined hands together, and in a cute voice that you swear never used to affect you before: “For not noticing you. You should have tapped me on the shoulder or something. If I had known—“

God, you swear it’s because you’re newly dating. It’s the honeymoon period that has you cooing, utterly swayed, “And if you had known, what? Would you have stopped gaming for me?”

Megumi smiles so sweetly, you can already tell the answer was going to be—

“You wouldn’t, huh?” you say, the smile dropping from your face. You drop his hand in faux disappointment and ask, “What’s more important, Fushiguro Megumi? Video games or your girlfriend?”

Megumi complains, “Why would you ask me this?”

You close your eyes and feel the disappointment for real this time. “I can’t believe this,” you whine, “My boyfriend would choose gaming over me. I understand. I see—“

“Babe, stop sulking, you know you’re important to me—”you keep your eyes closed, but you can feel Megumi’s arms loop around your neck, “Don’t be mad—”

Okay, you're not that disappointed, and you’re definitely not mad. But still, you don’t let up until Megumi’s pressed you against his bed and given you a thousand and one kisses. Your plan failed today, but it doesn’t mean you have to lose completely.

To be yourself, means to never give up (or something like that). You’ll try another day.

RESULT:

YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 1

.

.

.

ROUND TWO

Okay, take two - the first part of your fool-proof plan (the fool being yourself) was to seduce your target into giving up on video games.

You think this plan is better than the OG one. What were you thinking? Megumi wrote the playbook on being stubborn, and for once, you think you can leave being number one to someone else. You have bigger fish to fry, or however the saying goes.

Anyway - so you stand again at the threshold of Megumi’s room. You’re all cool, with your hands in your pockets. You’re freshly showered, which you want to emphasize for new reasons. Reasons being: you’re fresh, relaxed, ready to sex Megumi up.

Like last time, Megumi hasn’t noticed you standing by the door. He’s too busy, once again, being a real gamer, and his fingers, once again are flying angrily over his keyboard.

Perfect, you think. He’s already so heated.

This time, you forgo subtlety. Megumi loves it when you take charge.

You go over and wrap your arms around his tense shoulders, and Megumi ends up jolting so hard in surprise he uppercuts your chin with his hard head.

Once more, you’re on the floor again. This time, clutching your jaw.

“Babe!” Megumi exclaims in worry, throwing his headphones off in a flurry. He crouches down and cradles your jaw in his careful hands, “Are you okay? Why does this keep happening to you? Do you like being on the floor?”

You’re a little teary eyed and trying to hold it back. This isn’t the crying you were imagining when you came to Megumi’s room. You thought it would be a little sexier than this. A little less pathetic. You moan (in pain, you note sadly), “Why are you lecturing me?”

“Because,” Megumi caresses your jaw, “How could you surprise me like that? And now you’re hurt. You know it hurts me when you’re hurt.” Megumi pouts, “My baby. Should I kiss it better?”

You soak the attention up and point at your jaw. You nod, pouting, “Yes. Kiss it here.”

Megumi presses a kiss against your jaw, “Mwah.” When he pulls back, his eyes are crescents, “There. All good now.”

You make a noise and point to another spot, your chin this time, “This part hurts too.”

“I’ll kiss it too,” Megumi says, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss against your chin too. “Mwah. That one should be healed too.”

It’s a little insane, but you literally feel the pain go away with the touch of his lips. Is this the power of love or some shit? You used to be a non-believer, but damn. Maybe that shit truly heals.

It’s kind of addicting. You point to several parts of your face, and Megumi indulges you, pressing kiss after kiss until heat blooms between you two.

Swallowing your own anticipation, you finally point to your lips. “It hurts,” you say, sadly, “Could you kiss it better too?”

“It really hurts?” Megumi says slowly, biting his lip. His eyes focused solely on your mouth. “Or do you just want a kiss?”

“I always want a kiss from you, Megumi,” you bait, though the words are as honest as an admission. Megumi flushes pink at your words, and you feel your want double, triple knowing you’re the cause of it. “But it really does hurt. And I need you to kiss it. To make it all better—”

Megumi kisses you before you can even finish your sentence. You make a pleased noise, as you hook your arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to get him closer. Megumi moans, and you swallow it with a parted mouth. Megumi’s tongue is still shy as it licks into your mouth, meeting your tongue in tentative strokes. It’s cute. Megumi is so cute, it makes you kinda ill with desire.

You hook your leg around his hip and roll your bodies until it’s Megumi on the ground, looking pretty underneath you. You slide your knee in between his legs and feel heat when it presses against his growing bulge, “What about you, babe? Are you hurting anywhere? Is there anywhere I can kiss better?”

Megumi nods.

Because you can’t help it, you tease further, “Could you show me where?”

Megumi juts his bottom lip as he grinds against you, “You always make me say it.”

“I’m not a mind reader,” you say, tracing the swell of his lip. “You need to say what you want, so I know exactly what to do.”

Megumi looks away from you for a moment, as if unable to handle your gaze. His cheeks are a deepening pink, and you decide you love it over the heated flush he had on earlier when he was gaming. When he turns back, he seems to have gathered his courage. His gaze doesn’t waver as he takes your hand and presses it to his stomach, as he carefully slides your hands together underneath the waistband of his pants.

“Here,” Megumi says, voice low in a way that it rarely ever is, “I want you to kiss me here.”

So you do, and then some.

Later, when you’ve both migrated to his bed, sweaty and sated and close to the cliff of sleep, you feel like a winner. Having Megumi makes you a winner all the same, of course, but today, you triumph over your current enemy. Video games.

Your plan is a success. Finally, you can move on to step two, which is to make this into a routine. Sure, it’s going to be tiring, but you think it’s a sacrifice you’ll be very happy to—wait.

You feel Megumi shift carefully from where he was spooning you. Your little backpack, gone. A hand runs through your hair, lips press against your cheek, and then nothing. The heat you were getting accustomed to disappears. The bed shifts—and you realise he’s getting up. Any hope you have that it’s just him getting water or going to the bathroom disappears when you hear the tell-tale sound of a computer booting up.

God, did you not fuck him properly? Should you have gone for Round 2? What kind of stamina does a guy who just got railed within an inch of their life have, for him to not only stay awake after, but also to go back and log on to their computer to game?

You’re missing something here. You’ve seriously misunderstood the hold video games have on your boyfriend. You need to regroup. You need to rethink this.

But first—you must recuperate.

RESULT:

YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 2

.

.

.

ROUND THREE

You have recovered. Somewhat. Your ego is down bad, but it’s okay. Your war against video games in general is not over. You just need a better strategy, but before you can formulate that, you must first gather intel.

And who better to gather intel from than another gamer?

You stand at the threshold of a room. Another room. This time, it’s Itadori’s.

(Okay, you thought about asking Inumaki, but god knows, if given the choice between a brand new PS5 or his girlfriend, he would definitely choose the former. You’re not being mean. You’re just telling the truth.)

Anyway, you clear your throat, and as expected from the most angelic member of your friend group, Itadori turns to address you immediately.

“Oh, it’s you,” Itadori calls out from his bed. He’s laying against a pile of pillows as he plays on his nintendo switch. “What’s up?”

You shrug, putting your hands in your pocket. You know, for the spirit of nonchalance. You walk on over and casually sit on his bed. Or at least, you try to. It’s rather difficult considering the insane amount of pillows. You feel like you’re going to topple over and fall on the ground. Which has been happening quite often lately. Too often, if somebody were to ask you.

You lean over to take a peek at what he’s playing, “Nothing. Just wanted to see what my bestie is up to.”

Itadori hums, “I’m just playing Stardew Valley. It’s a farming game.”

You watches as Itadori’s character murders a bunch of bats in what looks like a cave. “Kind of violent,” you comment. “I thought you were farming. Aren’t you supposed to be toiling the land? Sowing some seeds? Harvesting?”

“I did that earlier,” Itadori says, as his character drops a bomb and kills a mummy. His fingers move like a real expert. A real gamer. You suppose there is something amazing about gamers. There’s a sense of professionalism in the way he plays, you can see that. “You can do a lot of things. It’s really involved. You can just do a day and then quit. I like it. You can really just do what you want.”

“Oh!” you say with interest. “So it’s not addicting at all. And it’s calming?” Itadori nods. “Can you play it on the PC? Or do you have to play it on the Switch?”

“You can play it on the PC,” Itadori explains, before taking a moment to pause the game. He turns to you, giving his full attention with a teasing grin. “Is this for Fushiguro?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes. It’s Valentine’s soon. I was going to buy him clothes, but I always get him that.” Shyly, you continue, “It’s our first Valentine’s together… so I wanted to do something different.”

“He usually likes those shooting games more though,” Itadori says. “Why don’t you ask Inumaki-san instead for advice?”

You grumble, “I always ask him for advice. Also, I don’t think those violent games are good for Megumi.”

Itadori gasps, a move that’s teasing too, “Wow… I didn’t think you were the controlling type.”

“I’m not!” you bristle at the accusation, “I am just a very concerned girlfriend.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, dubious, and you feel the teasing hit a surprisingly sensitive spot. You frown, “Am I being controlling? I just want him to stop playing so many video games so he can sleep properly.”

Itadori coos, and in a loud cutesy voice, he says, “Really? Really? Fushiguro is so lucky to have a caring girlfriend—”

“Really?” Another voice joins in the teasing. When you look, you see that it’s the man of the hour.

Itadori laughs when he sees who it is, “Oh? Who’s here? It’s our cutest—”

“Shut up,” Megumi grumbles, walking over to you, “What are you two yapping about now? I can hear your voice all the way from the bathroom.”

“You can hear us from the bathroom?” you ask, working hard to keep your voice even. “Megumi, are you sure you closed the door?”

Megumi gives you a betrayed look, but he still attempts to join you in bed, leaning his head onto your lap like a little house cat. He wraps an arm around your waist, just as your fingers move to play with his hair.

Itadori looks at you two with a bright, cheeky smile and you already know he has something to say before he even says it, “You guys are so cute. Making me third wheel on my own bed.”

Megumi rolls his eyes, “What are you guys doing? Are you playing that game again?”

“You know Stardew Valley?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Megumi says, “I’ve seen him play it a couple times. Never did get the appeal though. How are you enjoying just farming every day? Isn’t it repetitive?”

Itadori is passionate as he defends it, “No! I think you would really like it if you give it a chance. You get to help people rebuild the town. You make friends with villagers. You give them gifts. You can do missions for them. You can even romance them—”

“Oh?” For some reason, that is what piques Megumi’s attention. “Can you marry them too?”

Itadori affirms, “Yup! You can choose from 8 different people. If you play it, I recommend you romance Alex.”

“Why?” you blurt out, which has Megumi smiling up at you.

“Because,” Itadori says, as he shows Alex’s character on the Switch. “He’s kinda thick. All beefed up. I think he’d be your type, Fushiguro.”

Megumi’s hand is playing with your fingers as he asks, “And how do you know what my type is?”

Itadori smiles, “Well, because I’m confident you have excellent taste—“

And then he promptly puts a hand on your shoulder and flashes you a little wink.

For a moment, you’re all silent as you try to digest the moment. For a moment, you feel kinda objectified but simultaneously very sexy.

The moment ends with Megumi slapping his hand away. If you’re being honest, you’re a little turned on at the show of possessiveness. This is a side Megumi rarely shows, and you’re kind of super into it.

Megumi clears his throat, trying to clear the air. In a light voice, he says, “Send me the link. I’ll go play.”

RESULT:

YOU: 1 VIDEO GAMES: 2

.

.

.

ROUND FOUR

You end up getting Megumi a Nintendo Switch instead for Valentine’s.

You’d spent the extra money to get it properly gift wrapped too. It was worth it for the way Megumi carefully opened it, trying not to ruin the wrapping paper, even as you told him to just tear through it.

You spent money on this, Megumi pouted as he made sure the tape didn't tear the paper.

You pinched his cheek and teased, Baby, I spent more on the gift.

But you were so endeared that you forgot all about the wrapping paper when Megumi gasped as he finally saw what it was.

Y/N! Megumi said, throwing himself at you and pressing kisses all over your face. I love it. I’ll play it well.

Okay, okay—you know you’ve had this imaginary beef with video games, but Megumi really does love playing them. And you cannot resist the idea of making him happy.

Plus you do have a tiny bit of a hidden agenda with the Nintendo Switch. You thought about how Itadori had been playing his in bed versus how Megumi has to sit at his desk, away from bed, to play his games. You think the Nintendo Switch would be better then, because he could play video games in bed, and you could still hold him.

It feels like a compromise. A win-win situation. You want to pat yourself on the back for thinking of such a smart plan. Actually, you know what, you’re patting your back right now. Yeah!

Reality tells a different story though.

When you join Megumi in his bed for a cuddle, you find Megumi playing Stardew Valley on his Switch. Nothing wrong with that. You actually got him that game to play on the Switch instead.

It’s just that… you want a little attention. It’s been one mission after the other, so you’ve been a little stressed. You’ve all been, and you mentioned it before, how you all have your ways of coping. Megumi’s is playing video games. Yours is usually watching Netflix, listening to calming music, or even aromatherapy.

But you already looked through what Netflix had to offer and nothing. You looked through your usual playlists and nothing. You lit a candle and just blew it out. Right then, you knew what you wanted. Him.

You want him to coddle you a little bit. You want your boyfriend to tell you you did a good job today. You want Megumi to put down the Switch (which you know, you know, is kind of ridiculous because you bought that for him) and kiss you, even for just a moment.

You feel a little ridiculous about it. You’re an adult. You shouldn’t feel this needy for a little kiss from your boyfriend.

So, you push down the feeling and settle for wrapping yourself around him instead. Your cheek pressed against his hair. Your arm wrapped around his waist. Your legs tangled together. A little bit of the tension that’s been growing in your chest escapes.

You sigh, choosing to see what Megumi’s doing on screen.

He’s made a character for himself who’s wearing cute red overalls and a straw farmer hat on his little head. His character is walking around the forest, shaking the trees and collecting blackberries. It’s so cute, you feel yourself relaxing as you watch him play.

That is, until you watch him continually give gifts to this one specific character.

“Who’s that?” you mumble against his hair. “Is it a mission to give them flowers or something?”

“That’s Haley,” Megumi says.

“Oh,” you say, “What about the character Yuuji mentioned? Wasn’t that your type?”

Megumi laughs, “Yeah, but then I saw her and decided she was better. She’s a bit dumb, but she gets sweeter the more you get to know her in the game.”

You hum. Megumi continues happily, “I think I’m going to marry her. Earlier, she told me about how she just wants a family, and I just think I could give it to her. She could make me rich and pancakes in the morning, then I could go on with my day and farm.”

“Mhm,” is the only thing you can respond with. You don't exactly know what to say. You’ve known Megumi for a while now and lived with him for the same amount of time. You know Megumi, who was your best friend before anything else. You’re not quite sure you know him as a boyfriend quite yet, which makes you uncertain sometimes in deciding what type of person you need to be for him.

Right now, all you’re thinking is does he want me to be that kind of girl? Is this what he wants? A sweet vulnerable idiot who cooks for him?

And then, you think about how ridiculous it is that you’re outright placing yourself against a video game character. You must be really out of it.

You should just go back to your room and sleep it off.

You kiss Megumi’s cheek and move to get up, which has him frowning, “Are you going already? You just came here.”

You twiddle with a piece of hair, “Yeah, I think I’m just going to sleep in my room tonight.”

“Oh, you don’t want to…” Megumi trails off, his hand twisting around his sheets.

You smile, a little tired, “Maybe tomorrow. We have an early start anyway, remember?”

“Okay,” Megumi visibly deflates, and you resist the urge to come back to his bed. He quickly brightens up, flashing you a small smile, “Good night.”

It makes you smile, and this time, it feels more sincere. “Good night.”

But when you settle into your bed after, the warmth passes. Regret comes over you, and you wish you had just stayed.

You feel like an absolute loser.

RESULT:

YOU: 1 VIDEO GAMES: 3

.

.

.

ROUND FIVE

It’s been a week since you gifted Megumi the Switch and you feel like you’re losing your mind.

You’re literally jealous, because your boyfriend wants to play video games rather than pay attention to you. You’re sulking, because your boyfriend would rather romance some video game character rather than cuddle his #real girlfriend in #real life. You feel insane.

Okay—you know the stress of the recent missions has been piling up. You’ve been dealing with a lot of Grade 1 curses recently and it’s taking a lot out of you. But the added agitation from seeing Megumi play Stardew Valley, knowing he’s talking to his girlfriend there or something… unreal.

You can’t even tell anyone about this. You’re going to seem like such a loser. You already know how judged you’re going to be. You simply have to meditate this problem away.

Except, the problem never goes away. That’s just how problems work, you conclude. If you ignore them, they never get resolved. You can try sinking it as far deep as you can, but it floats back up again and again.

The thing is, you want attention, and you feel like you’re not getting enough. Between missions, and dealing with Gojo in real life— it’s not enough for you to get fleeting kisses here and there. It’s not enough to work together in missions, shoulders briefly touching.

You’re in the goddamn honeymoon period of your relationship, and you want more. It’s mortifying to admit, but you do and you’re at a place where your focus is narrowing to the point where you only care about getting it.

The only problem is that it includes getting Megumi’s attention, even at the worst of times. Even in the middle of training, when you’re supposed to be paying attention to whatever the hell Gojo is saying.

But you don’t. All you can think about is stupid Megumi, and his stupid addiction to video games, and his stupid cuddles you don’t get and his stupid mouth that hasn’t been giving you enough kisses.

You punch a little more aggressively, using more cursed energy than normal which only comes to fruition when you accidentally send Kugisaki flying into a wall. You mumble out a quick sorry, then proceed to go again.

“Woah, easy there.” Megumi teases, hair sticking up in different places. It looks so soft and fluffy. You want to bite him. “You know this is just practice right?” he asks with so much cheek.

You don’t mean to snap. You truly don’t. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes you snap on the inside. The teasing grin he’s giving you makes you wanna go absolutely batshit insane.

Which are the reasons you’ll cite later when Itadori and Gojo give you flack for asking, point black, in a voice low and serious, “Who would you choose, me or that stupid Haley from the game?”

You think Megumi can tell you weren’t playing around with the question, considering how flustered he gets. Unfortunately, the moment is cut short when Kugisaki nails an uppercut to your face as payback for throwing her against the wall. Talk about unfortunate timing.

The disappointment you feel from the lack of an answer makes you forget about the fact that everyone else is watching.

And then— you do remember and you’re absolutely fucking mortified. You’re supposed to be professional.

At the end, you all go to eat a nice meal together. And you can’t even find anything to really regret at the end of the day. I haven’t even cried about it, you think proudly to yourself.

It’s only when you’re freshly showered and happily under the covers of your bed that you remember the stupid moment. You hope Megumi forgets about it. You’re definitely going to try to tonight.

Except, you don't even get the chance to.

Your door creaks open, and you hear soft, muted footsteps across the wooden floor.

And then, someone’s climbing into your bed, settling in between you and the wall your bed is flushed against. Even in the dark, you know. It’s him.

“Hey,” Megumi says, voice tiny, “You didn’t come to my room.”

“I always come to your room,” you quietly say. You don't know if you’re saying it as an excuse.

Megumi hums, a sound as soft as light in the dark, “But you didn’t and I missed you. I want my girlfriend tonight.”

You snort, slapping whatever part of him you can reach, which lucky for him is his ass. “Stop teasing me about that already.”

“No,” Megumi agrees. You think you can hear a smile through his voice. “But you were sulking all night. Especially when I didn’t answer—”

You groan, “I don’t want to talk about it—”

Megumi makes a displeased noise, “I want to talk about it. You’re acting weird. Did I do something?”

“No!” you answer immediately.

“I don’t believe you,” Megumi stubbornly says, “Is it because I got married to Ha—“

“No.” you say with so much finality, it kills your conversation just like that, like the air has been sucked out, suffocating it. You can feel him falter, restless against you, and god, you really, really don’t want to ruin today. But you can feel his brain turning, thinking of what he did wrong, and you don't think you can end it right here. It feels like a fight that needs to be resolved now, lest it festers overnight.

You sigh, loudly. The sound is harsh in the dark. “It’s just—you always choose video games over me.”

“Huh?”

It’s out of the bag, so you think you might as well get it all out: “Sometimes, I feel like you’d rather play video games than hang out with me. Which is kind of stupid, because we spend almost all our time together. But when I’m stressed, I just want to hang out with you, but you’re busy playing video games. Or like that one time, after we had sex, you left the bed to go play video games instead. And I feel so stupid, but I’m even jealous that you’re romancing some stupid video game character, when I’m right here—”

You cut yourself off, because you sound ridiculous. “Oh my god. What the hell am I saying? Kill me. Kill me—“

“Hey!” Megumi says, grabbing your cheeks. “It’s okay. Calm down. Don’t be embarrassed. Please? Please?”

You’re pretty sure your cheeks are warm in his hands. You’re thankful for the dark, because you’re certain they would look red in the light. “Okay.”

“I hear you,” Megumi says in the most gentle voice. He always manages to take your racing mind and quiet it down. You don't know how he does it. “I hear you. But babe, why didn’t you just tell me?”

You pout, “Because. I hate feeling needy. And I don’t want to seem like some controlling asshole that wants to monopolise your time, when you probably want to relax too. The time we have together feels so small, and I find myself so greedy over it. Megumi, I think I really, really like you.”

He laughs, but it’s gentle too. “Well, I sure hope so.”

“No,” you say, “I mean, I think I like you more than I thought I did before, which is crazy because you know I like you so much already.”

“You’re so cute,” Megumi smiles and then gives you a kiss so sweet, you think the taste of honey won’t even compare to it. When you both pull away, he says, “It’s not greedy to want me. Don’t say it like that. I like that you want me. I like it when you tell me. Because you know I’ve liked you for so long, and I’m trying to do this right and not be so clingy and not be so crazy about you—”

“Be crazy about me,” you say. You’re not even thinking right now. You don't think you can when your heart is pounding so loud against your chest. “Don’t even hold back, babe. I like it so much too.”

Megumi makes a distressed noise, “Okay, don’t call me babe when we’re having a serious conversation. You know how that makes me feel. And I know you’re too tired to have sex—”

“Megumi,” you say, absolutely serious, “I have a separate energy storage for that. It’s like me with food and dessert. I have a second stomach that lets me eat more. It works exactly the same way.”

Megumi laughs, and you feel yourself fully relax. You cuddle him in your arms and sigh happily.

You feel him stroke your hair. In the end, Megumi says, “Promise me. You’ll just tell me next time, okay? Don’t feel weird, okay? I want to be a good boyfriend to you.”

“Okay,” you say, “I promise.”

RESULT:

YOU: 1,000,000 VIDEO GAMES: 3

.

.

.

BONUS ROUND

“Um,” you say, “If it’s your birthday, then how come I’m the one receiving a gift?”

“Because,” Megumi says, handing you your very own Nintendo Switch, “The gift I want from you is to play Stardew Valley with me.”

You scratch your head, “I don’t know how much I’m going to play. Megumi, I feel like this is a waste of money. You should save it and buy something you like instead—”

You shut up immediately when Megumi pouts at you so hard, you feel like you might get sent to hell for causing it. Megumi vehemently disagrees, “It’s not a waste of money! I know you’re going to love Stardew Valley. I’ll explain everything. You’re going to love toiling the land and watering crops—”

“Can’t we just make out when I’m stressed?” you argue.

“No,” Megumi says, glaring at you like an angry baby kitten. “You are not going to seduce me out of this. We are going to have a farm together. And we can even get married on this, isn’t that cute?”

Well. Why didn’t he start with that?

You clear your throat and try not to seem too excited at the idea. Instead, you choose to say, “I thought you were going to marry Haley in your little game.”

Megumi waves his hand, “I dumped her. I only wanted to pursue her anyway, because she was rich. But truly, she had nothing on you.”

Okay, it really doesn’t matter in the overall scheme of things—but you’re both a sore loser and a sore winner.

Everyone will just have to excuse you when you say: Fuck you, video games.

You have Megumi.

RESULT:

FINAL WINNER: YOU

❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ higher with my lover — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞

☆　Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, handjob, mentions of blood & blood sucking, Capitol! Reader, reader is mentioned to be a virgin, mentions of poison and death, district+lucy gray slander (necessary to the plot), mention of Sejanus, degradation & praise kink if you squint, dry humping | lmk if I missed anything!

☆　Pairing: fem! Reader x young! peacekeeper! Coriolanus Snow

☆　Summary: Lucy Gray left but you find him in the forest instead and shit goes down

☆　A/N: this fic is inspired by the fact that i imagined myself to be the one sucking the 'poisoned bite' and be like now we both die and i like you lmao, i hope you guys like it!

Ps. This is the official canon ending :D

Ps². Listened to this song mainly to write the smut, so i am just gonna leave it here. . .

| masterlist | taglist | bc: @cafekitsune |

“Lucy Gray! Are you trying to kill me!?”

Coriolanus Snow yelled as he kept pointing the gun in random directions. It wasn't long after that he began shooting in the sky causing the murder of numerous mockingjays up in the air.

He had found the necklace, he had found the scarf. She left. She was a loose end. She needs to die, fucking die so Snow could have the life he deserved. The life he worked for, the life he was entitled to since birth. The life of a Snow.

“Lucy Gray! We can talk about this!” He yells out, “Just come out!” But Lucy Gray was nowhere to be found, as if she was a ghost. As if she was the Lucy Gray from the song, a mystery to never be found.

He pointed his gun in the direction where he heard the sound of a twig snapping. It wasn't Lucy Gray but you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving as you slowly walked towards him with your hands raised. “Coryo,” you whispered, scared, your feet walking towards him with hesitation but never flattering.

He had no idea how you had found him. He wasn't sure why you were either here. It was already too much for him that Sejanus came (and now he is dead, dead, dead. The third person he had killed). And you followed him too, pulling in favors, deciding to be a medic along with Sejanus, serving time with your best friends (not his, he never considered you or Sej as his friend).

“Where's Lucy Gray!?” He yelled, walking towards you, gun still pointed. It makes you walk backward until your back hits the hard bark of a tree. The rough texture of the bark is uncomfortable due to your thin shirt. You scrunch your nose at the mention of her. You never liked her much. He didn't know why but perhaps it was all a ruse just for this very moment. This very betrayal from her.

“How would I know?” You scoffed, the haughty attitude of a Capitol citizen coming through despite having a gun pointed at you. He pressed the end of the gun at your chest. “Tell me the truth,” he growled. “That girl tried to poison me. Tell me where she is!”

“I don't know,” you hiss back, your eyes ablaze. “And get the gun out of my face. You should be heading to a fucking medic right now. Are you sure she poisoned you?” Your voice was now laced with concern, eyes softening as you looked at him, his t-shirt clinging to him with sweat, his cheeks flushed, eyes so wide that the blues were hidden with black instead.

Coryo gets the gun away from you to put his arm forward. Showing you his snake bite, the puncture wound oozing out beads of red blood on his snow-like skin. “It's probably non-poisonous,” you said, trying to sound optimistic.

“No, it's not!” He growls, and anger fills in every movement and word of his. “She's trying to kill me. She's district! I shouldn't have- shouldn't have-” You hold his arm, your fingers around his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“It's fine,” you whispered, trying your best that the tone you use with him is soft and gentle. You want to shake him out of the mental breakdown that was happening. He shakes his head and you press your fingertips into the wound.

“It's fine,” you whispered, “let's get you back. Come on.” You try to urge him forward, only for him to pull himself out of your grasp. “No! I need to find her. She's a loose end. She will tell. She's a snake, not a songbird,” he rambles.

Despite the confusion you felt with his words, you grit your teeth. “Come on, Coryo! We need to head back,” you said, your hand on his wrist, trying to drag him out of the middle of the green forest.

“No! We need to find her out before the poison works” he yells, pulling you back and pushing you. Pinning you effectively between him and a tree.

You glare at him before a moment of impulsivity takes over you. You take his arm, your mouth around the bleeding wound and you suck letting whatever ‘poisoned blood’ onto your tongue. His eyes widen as he sees the redness of his blood now painting your lips. “Now can we go back?” You said as you licked the blood clean. “Because if it's poison, we will both die.”

“Why would-” he visibly freezes. He doesn't want your blood on his hands. No- it would be on Lucy's hands. It's her fault. Everything is her fault. “Why would you do that?” He whispered, leaning closer to you, his face now mere inches away from yours. It was like he was seeing you for the first time. Like he never saw you for you until now. Someone like him. Unhinged (not that he's willing to admit it).

He hooks his fingers under your chin, holding your jaw and tilting your lips towards his. His eyes were searching for sanity but seemed to have found none as a smile (filled with insanity) spread on his face. “You're crazy,” he whispered, “Are you that desperate?”

“Desperate for your well-being, Coryo,” you whispered, hating the fact that your gaze fell on his soft-looking lips. “I don't know what's wrong, Coriolanus. But come with me, let's go back. Lucy Gray isn't worth anything.”

“Lucy Gray is worth everything!” He yelled, pressing his body with yours, pain in your bones flaring as he without noticing crushed you.

“I am sure she will have poison for you too. I am sure she will come back then,” you spit out. You felt outrageous at his behavior. “She ran, didn't she? To the North. You gonna go there too, Coryo?” you questioned, your eyes now meeting his. You try to find an answer but find something deeply tangled instead, neither a yes or a no.

You never felt such pity for Coriolanus Snow before as you did now. You put your palm on his cheek. “Come with me,” you said, softening your voice. “Back to the peacekeepers, the general told me about District 2 and I can put in favors so we can be back in the Capitol in no time.”

“You didn't choose Sejanus,” you whispered, the mention of Sej causing him to freeze. “Choose me,” you plead, feeling pathetic for being reduced to this. But it was for your Coryo so it was worth it. Wasn't it?

A chip from the bird makes him look away but you use your hand to make him face you again. Tears begin to pool in your eyes. You find your heart preparing itself for a rejection. “Choose me,” you choke out, a sob in your throat ready to come out when he says no, no, no Lucy Gray it is, never you.

You wait and wait for the rejection, your eyelids closing themselves so he doesn't see himself (or the way you looked at him with love) in the reflective tears. “Look at me,” he whispered, feeling his hot breath on your lips now. And you didn't want to listen but your eyes opened back up, light coming in and he's in your sight.

All glorious as you always thought of Snow.

Snow lands on top.

Haven't every Capitol child learned that from history? You were no exception. And you never planned to be. Even after finding out the truth about his situation, you never thought less of him, if anything everything you felt about him increased tenfold without your consent. Oh, how you should hate him. Oh, but how much you love him.

He leaned in and you didn't move. He stops for a mere second as if reconsidering his decision. But then decided to fuck it because the next thing you know his lips against yours.

He tasted like cheap alcohol, he tasted like ruin and danger. You ate it all up by parting your lips so his tongue could slip in. You let out a moan as his teeth bite into your lips. For a moment you think he's a snake and that he's the one poisoning you. His poison is more potent than an actual snake’s ever could be.

You were simple prey, that's it. Instead of a bullet, he was shooting your heart with a kiss. And it was working because in the future he will be the end of you. A slow, slow poison, he controlled the kiss despite the way his tongue slid against yours was clumsy but so perfect.

You kissed him back to the best of your abilities, wondering briefly if you tasted like the pastry you had in the morning. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth to suck and bite however he wants. Your hands find his buzz cut instead of his golden curls and a whine leaves your lips from the frustration of the loss.

Your hand is on his nape and another is still on his cheek as neither of you breaks the kiss. It didn't matter that you were getting lightheaded. It didn't matter that you could feel your heartbeat increasing due to lack of oxygen. He was everything, you would be damned if you broke the kiss.

You gasp as the kiss is broken. You stare into his eyes, searching for something, anything. But you find nothing but ice blue. It sent chills down your spine but at least he had calmed down now. “Feeling better?” You asked and you got a rough nod as a reply.

“Come on, we have work to do,” he whispered as he pulled back. His dog tag dangles as he begins to walk towards the cabin again, navigating the path with his father's compass.

You find the cabin and the guns. Coriolanus looks at you waiting for a protest, disgust, expecting you to run away just like Lucy Gray. You didn't do anything except sigh, your shoulder wearing down as you realized the truth of it all. You didn't say a word but your hand finds his. He doesn't say anything either but squeezes your hand back. An unspoken promise. He had chosen you. You had chosen him. You were in this together now.

There's no going back.

Both of you row the boat and let the guns sink into the river, never to be found again. You find your way back to the cabin, the rain pouring down again. You sit beside Snow- no, no, still Coryo. Always Coryo. Your head on his shoulder, your knees pressed to your chest as you hear the tip tap of rain outside.

Not a single sound is made. But as time passes and the rain doesn't stop, you begin to crave his lips again. As if that one kiss was morphine, and you needed more to heal the ache of your soul. “Coriolanus,” you whispered.

“Coryo,” he reprimanded softly, his tone enticing as if he was trying to bewitch. You feel your palms sweat as embarrassment begins to nag your mind. You blurt it out before you can think about how pathetic you sound.

“Can I have another kiss, Coryo?”

The next few moments were a blur. Lips on lips. Clumsily tongues meeting each other and whining into each other's mouths. You were shamelessly grinding on Coryo's lap as your lips continued to stay locked with his. “I want you so bad,” you admit as you feel his cock harden underneath you.

“Since the academy,” you whispered against his lips, a moan escaping your lips when he held your hips and began to guide them to grind on his completely hard bulge.

“Oh, yeah?” He mocks, “It's pretty fucking obvious.” He choked off a groan coming out of his mouth, “You're willing to let go of the fact that I am a murderer, huh?” You let out a whimper as he mentioned that. But both of you knew the answer to that, a part of you knew what kind of predator he was. Ever since you knew about how he killed a tribute, you just called it. It never mattered to you how horrible he could be or in this case, is.

“Yes, yes,” you moan into his mouth. Was it an answer or a mere whine about how perfect the friction felt against your pantie-soaked pussy? You didn't know but Coriolanus thought of it as the former. “You gonna be my girl, then? A capitol princess being a peacekeepers’ doll to fuck,” he whispered, his tongue licking a strip of skin on your neck.

You moan as his teeth begin to harshly assault your skin, covering your neck with marks. “Yes,” you gasp, “as long as it's you.” God, how much more pathetic could you be? But it didn't matter, it got him higher and fed his ego after everything that had happened. He loved it and perhaps, he could grow to love you.

Not in the way, Coryo loved Lucy Gray but in the way Snow would love his First Lady.

Your hands tug off his wet t-shirt and throw it on the floor. His hands do the same with your peacekeeper's uniform. He grabs your hips, squeezing the plump of flesh there, his mouth panting into you and he looks at you with dilated eyes.

Time seems to have slowed down as you touch his dog tag, your fingers tracing the name carved into the metal. “I want this. You, right now, right here,” you whispered like it was the biggest secret of your life. “Do you?” You ask as your hands go lower to fiddle with the zipper of his pants.

He doesn't give you a verbal answer, only pulling you into another kiss with his fingers woven into your hair in a fist as his free hand goes down below to free his cock from the confines of his trousers.

You grip his length, stroking it and squeezing out pearly pre-cum from the tip. You savor the deep groan that leaves his lips. “Fuck… just like that, doll,” he instructed and you obey. Your strokes get faster and his pre becomes natural lube as you continue. He lets out a hiss when you twist your wrist and his hand snares around your wrist. “Wanna cum in your cunt first,” he said, breathless from the ecstasy of having your hands on him.

Within moments the remaining clothes on both of you were scattered around the cabin. You moan into his mouth, your fingers desperately clawing at his shoulders as you begin to grind your soaking wet pussy against his hard cock. You gasp, elated by how your folds pressed against his length, his cockhead being teased by your slit but unable to breach the threshold.

The kisses you shared with him were sloppy. Saliva coating his chin as neither of you was willing to separate your lips for a single unnecessary moment. You knew your lips would hurt by the end of this, that they were swollen and the inside of it bleeding because of how insistently his teeth loved to bite your lower lip. He was no better either. You tasted more blood from the kisses now than anything, and it didn't matter to you because somehow the salty, rusty taste felt like just him.

You let out a sound unfitting of a Capitol-raised woman when his cockhead slips inside your gummy walls. His tip now profusely leaks pre-cum inside your gummy walls. You pulled back, biting your lower lip to stop the whimper as you feel his cockhead stretching out your virgin walls.

“That's it, dove,” he lets out, all needy and heated. His hands squeeze your hips to be encouraging as you let yourself down on his cock slowly. “Take it all in. You can do it, doll,” he whispered, as his eyes were down looking at his length entering you, being surrounded by the wicked, addicting warmth of your tight cunt.

“I can?” You let out a whine, as the pain bleeds into the pleasure, the ratio of it throwing you off the dizzy full lust. He hums in encouragement as you finally fill yourself with his dick to the hilt. Your slick walls pulsate around his length.

“Atta girl,” he smiles at you, his eyes brightening up from how well you took him and without any complaints whatsoever. “That's a good slut,” he whispered and smirked when he felt your walls clench around him deliciously.

You tried to move your hips but gave up when the burn made your eyes water. He coos at you encouragingly, telling you to adjust to his girth first. He wasn't going to rut into you like a dog, you're a Capitol girl, not a district whore. He wasn't going to disrespect you like that, no matter how much he wanted you to begin rolling your hips.

So your lips latch onto his neck, while your arms are around him and your legs around his waist. You were clinging to him, as if afraid that if you ease up in your grip he will fade away from your life, from this moment and your reality together. The smell of sex and sweat begins to become stronger than the smell of gunpowder as you continue to give him hickeys in various places on his skin.

Coriolanus doesn't complain that you're marking him like this, not when he's doing the same task with his tongue tracing the love bites his teeth left. And you suspect he rather enjoys when you bite, as his cock twitches whenever your teeth dig into his flesh as if you're eating and your wet tongue licks over the bite as if you're tasting the flavor of his skin.

When you're finally comfortable with his cock being inside the most intimate part of you. You slowly but surely begin to make small, shallow thrusts that have you gasping, your eyes rolling back with how good it feels already because he was fucking into your g-spot with every roll of your hips. The thrusts were teasing, it had him groaning praises of you being a good girl and his hold tightening over your hips, surely leaving bruises.

You begin to relish the feeling of being stuffed, his cockhead kissing your cervix when you get the angle just right. Your folds coat him with your creamy juices, a ring of white forming on his base with how wet you were. Slowly but surely the pleasure begins to build up, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to put up force with the way you rock back and forth on his cock.

You pant into his mouth, your lips letting out sharp moans when his dick strokes your walls just right. He lets you control the pace, his mouth busy latching onto your nipple to suck. His tongue swirls around the bud, hardening it inside his mouth and he nips your nipple just to have you jolt from the bite and squeeze down on his cock.

One of his hands now kneads the other breast he wasn't giving much attention to, his fingers rolling the nipple, pinching the bud, and playing with it. His other hand goes between your bodies and finds your clit. You soon realize he was working with a pattern that was driving you insane, turning your cunt into a hotter slicker mess.

When he swirled his tongue around your nipple, his fingers did roll the other bud. Meanwhile, his thumb would drive small, rapid circles onto your swollen bundle of nerves. When he bit into your nipple, his fingers pinched your clit making you gasp with thunderous pleasure filling your veins.

He continues at this and tension begins to build up in your tummy. You close your eyes as animalistic instincts begin to take over your body. The need to cum overrides everything else as you begin to roll your hips faster and harder. Desperate to cum around his cock for the first time of many times in your life. He feels the same way because he encourages you with his hips bucking into you, thrusting perfectly inside of your slick walls.

“So close, Coryo!” You moan, your nails leaving red lines in their path on his shoulders. He latches off your breasts to whisper, “Cum then, my slut. Let me feel you milk my cock like a good cockwhore would.” You let out a louder moan at his words. His condescending tone snaps the tension that had formed in your tummy, you begin to cum.

Your pussy spasming around his cock, triggering his orgasm. He empties his balls inside of you without any hesitation, filling you up with his thick, hot cum. “That's a good girl. Look how well you took me. Look at the cum leaking out, dove,” his tone teasing, like many times he has teased in classes but the context of this was entirely different.

You look down, your pussy clenching around his cock again when you see his seed ooze out of you. Your body slumps into him, tired from all of this. Both mentally and physically. The storm was still going on. You lay in his arms, his cum now coating the insides of your thighs.

“You're smarter than Lucy Gray,” he said, “I pray you know better than to run. I won't miss the next time.”

You shake your head, trying to hide the smile forming on your face. Others would have run from his words, anyone sane would. Lucy Gray did after all. But you were just you.

“If I wanted to run, I wouldn't have found you in the first place,” you whispered, sealing your words with a soft kiss on his lips.

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

@skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea @daughter-of-the-stars11 @blippys-blog @iguanagwen @moonlight-by-the-sea @snowlandstop @badbleep88 @hobireasns @floswife @weeeoosworld @ludasgf

@sushirolliee @poppyflower-22 @dilucpegg3r @sleepysongbirdsings @cupids-scream-queen @fyhhuu

then vs. now