The Snows @mrandmrssnowbaird - Tumblr Blog

synopsis - Coriolanus comes home to his loving wife after a long, hard day.

an extremely whiney needy Coryo, teasing, little bit of taunting, denial, nipple play, fingering, mentions of a sex toy i'm not even sure exists or is possible but it's fanfiction so who gives a fuck(yes i'mma write an actual scene using this toy don't you fuckin worry bbs), dacryphilia, hands free orgasms.

and most importantly, mommyk!nk. i know i said i'd never do it but i lied.

#coriolanus snow #sub coriolanus #sub coryo #coriolanus snow x lucy gray baird #coriolanus x lucy gray #snowbaird #ballad of songbirds and snakes #sub! coryo #sub! coriolanus #sub!character #mommy k!nk #and thats how you do mommyk!nk folks #mommy k!nk coryo #mommy k!nk coriolanus #lucy gray x coriolanus #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow smut #coryo smut

binarisunset

Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus Plinth + the inherent intimacy of betrayal

Abercrombie and Fitch "Back to School" by Slavoj Žižek; Judas's Gift: In Praise of Betrayal by Adam Phillips

mrandmrssnowbaird

♥️

charlunday

At the request of @lucygraysmockingjays , I'm posting a doodle from back in March! Lucy Gray and her Snowflake ❄️🤍

commissions open!

#the hunger games #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #snowbaird #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

what if i told you

"i'm back"

the hospital was a drag

worst sleep that i ever had

[i have a snowbaird and solo coryo in the drafts y'all. missed you. thanks to those of you who stayed and are still liking and reposting, ily so much. i can't explain what this has done for my self esteem as dumb as it sounds.]

#coriolanus snow #sub coriolanus #sub coryo #coriolanus snow x lucy gray baird #snowbaird

praxidikegal

zeglythisms

anakintargaryens

faunshiii

teehee

draculestibae

Star Wars AU!, anyone?

Junior Senator (and Dr. Gaul's sith apprentice) Coryo and singer, part-time trader, Lucy Gray :)

praxidikegal

Snowbaird Week 2024

Day 2: Myths & Folklore

mermaid and pirate au!

Mermaid Lucy Gray and fallen noble-turn-quartermaster Coryo

rookthebird

"lucy gray baird would be snow's sad little caged bird trophy wife if she returned with him to the capitol" personally i think she would be 100% willing to kill him herself if he tried anything and 100% willing to be his most loyal smokescreen if he played along with her ideals.

they are both the snakes actually! they understand each other on a way no one else can and that's what's so fun about them!

sspextkr-deactivated20241111

Sejanus edging coryo and not even tearful eye begging works?

BRO 😩😩

this is filthy so im adding a read more just in case 🤭🤭

sejanus isn't mean or stubborn, but when he gets mean he gets mean, y’know? we all saw the movie, the boy has a temper waiting to be unleashed. so maybe he's just having a hard time with school or the classic capitol bullshit. coriolanus, being the semi decent boyfriend he is, offered some comfort sex.. because what else can he offer? genuine comfort LMFAO this is coriolanus we're talking about.

so sejanus would say yes.. but he definitely had another trick up his sleeve.

mrandmrssnowbaird

skakamsmsjwkw well it's not shit and we need more asap! just delicious.

#sub! coryo #sub! coriolanus #sub coryo #sub coriolanus #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut

does someone out there actually want to rp Snowbaird/Snowbairdplinth? like seriously, I'm dying for more of them and people respond with interest and barely say a word after the initial "I'm interested" or even "you liked my post!"

I'm dyin for something rapid fire, angsty. I wanna rp with someone who's genuinely as passionate as I am. I'm so so so sick of starting a new rp, creating all these brand new headcanons for each, only to have someone post twice.

I write in past tense for rps, anywhere from one paragraph to many many, it just depends. I will play any character or two of the three, idc. I'm very flexible! I prefer discord but tbh idec at this point. I'm 32f bi and a pretty open book tbh.

so if you're interested in Snowbaird/Snowbairdplinth rp, message me or like this!

21+ only please.

ficzhub

A Legacy: A Snowbaird fan fiction.

Chapter 1

Relief doesn't begin to describe what he felt when he realized he was in fact, not a ephebophile. Simply a man still in love with his lost girl. It wasn't easy to find her, the wilds are difficult to navigate even with the most advanced technology available. But persistence is key, he never gave the search a day's rest. The moment he came into enough power to delegate the necessary steps that would go into finding her, he did. My, is he glad he did. He found so much more than he could've imagined. He almost regretted having to eventually pluck her from her prairie. Here she was, perfect little wildflower. Dark curls braided out of her sable face, small sylvester flowers rained on in a crown forshadowing the metaphorical crown she'd soon wear as his darling girl in the capital where they belong.

Despite the constant frigid temperatures of the wilds beyond the desolation of 13, the sun still shone bright in the early spring. Excellent light but did little to warm anything. Still, watching the bright sun shining off her rich hair and pebbled, freckled skin sheened slightly in sweat from her labor brought him a calm he hadn't experienced anything even close to since he'd been in her presence. He could watch for hours as she went through her morning routine in the tiny cabin she shared. Getting water to boil for their mushroom tea, gathering honey to sweeten it. Wondering if she had to risk getting her nearly onyx eyes or dainty hands stung to obtain it. Eating a few bites of whatever game the traders exchanged with her. The bulk of it being fish, sometimes uncommon sea creatures like octopus or such but as good for sustenance as he could wish for them, explaining the surprising but delightful realization that Lucy Gray looks better fed here than she'd ever looked back in 12.

The changes of her body, though mostly welcome, did confound him briefly. The previous night she'd disrobed before sleeping and he saw the widened flare of her hips, the greater swell of her breasts and darkening of her nipples, the beastly diagonal claw-like marks on her flat but loose abdomen and pert backside. It all made sense when he caught sight of him, Silas Ochre. A boy of eleven, and already much taller and more muscular than he himself had been at that age. Vindicating his theory that if Coriolanus been properly fed, he'd be a much more physically imposing figure. The boy opened the door with his free hand, his left occupied holding basket containing a variety of plants the camera can't completely capture from this angle.

It was agony finding her and knowing it would take a few days before the undetectable cameras would be remotely set up to use. All his men had told him after finding her was that she was living in a cabin with a boy and a woman around her age. He'd figured she'd run into a mother with her son and came together with them but the mother in question had been her all along, and what a mother she's turned out to be. Silas Ochre is an incredibly intelligent, resourceful, capable and beautiful child. His hair is a golden shade of brown with curls that shine blindingly in the sun, clearly his hair had had to have been lighter ages ago, much blonder like himself. His skin is much like that of his mother, the color of strong black tea with a dash of milk and his eyes a dazzling shade of blue, like everything else, darker than that of his father. It's as if the deeper pigment from his mother protected him in a manor his father's lightness couldn't.

Silas Ochre hunts like he was born to it. No cruelty is ever caused with his knife, only quick, merciful deaths the creatures never see coming, so unlike the offspring Coriolanus has produced with Livia who'd relish in the gore. The boy named Calix in his home borderline disgusts him. His petulance grates at his already strained nerves, his entitlement irritating him to the point of near violence. Livia's family would withdraw any support they provide if he ever did anything to properly discipline his miscreant son. The boy is turning nine and still throws tantrums like when he toddled. If his father's legacy is left to him, he'll destroy everything he ached building in a matter of a few short years, squander it like a common fool. At first glance, there's resemblance between he and his son. But Coriolanus knows, Calix's palor is that of his mother's. His shade of blond, the blue of his eyes, the shapes of his nose and mouth, all Livia's.

The likeness between Silas Ochre and his father is more subtle but obvious if one knows what their looking for. The forms of his young son's still developing muscles so like his own, visible after his peacekeeper's duties and thankfully not lost since. The proportions of his body, long arms and legs good for reaching high and running far. His lips are shaped like that of his mother's sweet mouth, but fuller like his own. The slightly downward slant of his eyes is like his father's despite the darker shade of blue inside them, the flare of his nostrils at the end of his long nose completely unlike the button nose his Lucy Gray dawns. The broadness of his shoulders to the tapering of his waist, his hairline, the shape of his strong hands. All obvious indicators of who impregnated his mother.

Coriolanus blazes to see Lucy Gray as she was when she was pregnant with him. Face rounded, arms, legs and tight bottom cushioned for her and his son's comfort. Hips broadening more as each day passes, breasts growing to become fit to feed their child producing a milk he can only imagine was a luscious nectar. Finally, belly growing bloated with their perfect progeny. The need to keep her full of his babies is one of his main purpose for wanting to keep her close to him, here in the capital despite their idyllic lives in the forest. Silas Ochre was a good example of how flawless their children would be.

Livia is pregnant again with another boy and as much as he knows he's supposed to, he doesn't love the children he has with her. The feelings of obligation and basic familial commitment pale in comparison to the fatherly love and adoration he already feels for the nearly teenaged boy, who likely has no idea who he is and who Coriolanus has never even laid eyes on in the flesh. He knows more clearly than he knows he loved his mother and Tigris, that he'd do anything to protect this child. The ferocity, the potency of his emotions overwhelmed and displeased him. So much like when he fell in love with his Lucy Gray, he knows this boy, like his mother, could get anything they want out of him. He'd relinquish it with a smile on his face as long as it made them happy. That vulnerability frightens him more than any threat any of his enemies have ever made.

The rabbits, squirrels and other animals his more competent son obtains are used in their entirety. He guts and skins them so his still sensitive mother never needs to see such ugliness. He simply presents her with the pelts for her to use as needed and gives the innards to the woman they live with for her to do what she must with them. Lucy Gray treats the fresh skins and furs in their tiny fireplace, cleans them in the river nearby and hoards them until she has enough to make a full article of clothing with them. He's spent days watching them, learning their habits and observing their behaviors. The traders come by twice a week, she'll trade fresh garlic mustard or wild ginger for whatever she and her friend "Holly May" had asked for during their previous visit. Dairy products such as butter or cheeses, salt, even sea shells on occasion are taken in exchange of safe plants to consume and fresh land game and even baby soft fur overcoats to brave the harsh conditions farther north.

Holly May was clearly responsible for teaching his son how to sustain himself. Lucy Gray might've taught him how to tie intricate knots, gather fresh fruits and render oils from any plants they might find but Holly May taught him how to be an efficient killer. A skill not to be overlooked or undertrained in when in these circumstances. The traps they use are expansive and detailed, anything that wanders in will be done away with in a matter of seconds with almost no time to realize they're dying. She taught him how to gut and skin the animals quickly and cleanly, not letting the food become contaminated by any filth by letting the pelt cover everything until every organ is removed and placed in Holly May's hands to be cleaned in boiled, cooled water and coated in salt and spices to preserve for harsher times.

The traders this time traded a small spile for two dark brown coats. Coriolanus couldn't understand why Lucy Gray would make what seems like such a poor exchange, she handed the tool to Holly May and she hammered it into a tree. The cold wood didn't let her penetrate without a fight, bouncing off the metal a few times before finally piercing through to the tenderer wood inside. She instructed Silas Ochre to fetch something and he returned promptly with a bucket and some sort of covering. She placed it beneath the tree and simply left it there. It wasn't until a few hours later he realized it's a maple tree and Lucy Gray was clearly craving some sweetness honey can't provide, given the persistent medicinal taste that lingers after you eat it.

Coriolanus found himself envying their simple lives. The grueling work of finding their food and their warmth daily, knowing the next winter might be harsher than the last and not knowing if the previous harvest will be enough to hold them until it's over. But never having to worry about large scale betrayals, or political intrigue. Never concerning yourself with the competition because there hardly is any. Your competition around the cabin are other animals not nearly as strategic as you are and always good for thicker furs or emergency meat. On the rare occasion that a passerby might make things more difficult for you, you can always dispose of them fairly simply.

He ponders if his son, just beginning pubescence, would be capable of that.

********

The observation period lasts weeks. Coriolanus finishes work and returns home to watch the recordings that have been gathered, sometimes not even bothering to eat or wash up before sitting to watch his distant family go about their business. He's ambivalent about his realization that Lucy Gray was better off without him than he would've guessed. On the one hand, had she not been better off her and their son would've died likely before he was even born and then where would he be? Just a bitter man of nearly thirty living a life with nothing bringing him any genuine happiness the way just watching his amazing son and still gorgeous songbird does. A cousin who raised him but now nearly ignores him, a wife he can't stand who's given him sons that were meant to be a continuation of the Snow line and legacy but one only inspires irritation and resentment in him and the other is yet to be born but he doesn't hold out much hope for. He knows he'll feel little affection for him, too. He'll be too like his insipid mother, and have too much of Coriolanus' most distasteful traits, like Calix.

On the other, he relished in knowing his Lucy Gray needed him. In his most self indulgent and self-aggrandizing fantasies, she always needed him. Either needed him to save her from some kind of evil, a touchy ex-lover, a murderous and petty mean girl with a senseless vendetta against her, an incompetent man with too much power like Mayor Lipp, which he in fact made sure to scrap from office as soon as he had the authority to and place someone more fitting in his place. Someone he knew wouldn’t give The Covey any trouble.

Other fantasies have more masturbatory wishes. She needs him because he’s fed her, needs him because he’s given her water to drink when she was deathly thirsty. She needs him because she’s horribly sore and he can do away with her aches and pains. Because she needs him to satiate her desire for closeness and pleasure when in reality it’s him that needs satiating. He that feels a desperate longing to touch her again because nothing and no one else feels as good.

Every day he gets to watch as she fetches water from the river that runs near her shoddy, unprotected home, brings it back to boil clean on her fireplace in a large metal pot. She collects the water in a separate container and lets any debris settle at the bottom, carefully brings it outside and waits for it to cool. She takes out a soap either she traded for or made on her own and undresses. He feasts his eyes on her, angry that any of his men might’ve seen this footage before he did. Notices her dark nipples puckering in the cold, thankfully there’s not much wind. He’d hate for her to get sick. He laments the camera quality isn’t fine enough to zoom in on her, to see her tender flesh develop goosebumps. She slowly pours the purified, hot water over herself and starts scrubbing her skin with the soap and an old, filthy looking rag.

He wonders what the soap smells like, if it’ll interfere with the aroma he remembers her having. The wild rose and fresh, ripe peach that no amount of synthesis has been able to replicate to his liking. Either it smells too manufactured or the rose scent is too clean, or the peach fragrance is too saccharine, or they don’t quite match the slightly musky trail she always had. According to the perfumers, it has a great deal to do with the pheromones one produces and picks up in another’s. Biology dictates that unless you’re wearing a strong perfume or cologne, the way you smell is subjective to whomever may be smelling you. Sometimes it permeates through even the strongest of artificial fragrances. He knows there’s no way Lucy Gray ever made enough money through her performances to buy a perfume of any kind, despite her immense talent. Much less a strong, manufactured fragrance that even in The Capital, people struggle to afford. No, of course not. Her hygiene perhaps, some rustic soap much like the one she uses now, purchased at The Hob is what she used, and a rag with any water she could find was used to keep herself clean. The scent Coriolanus remembers so fondly is all their own, produced by her and to be inhaled by him.

He ponders what he might’ve smelled like to her, if she enjoyed his scent even half as much as he delighted in hers. If his resulted in the same warm sensation in her groin that grew in his whenever he inhaled by her neck, slick with the day’s sweat.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

mrandmrssnowbaird

ummm this is incredible

i'm baaaaack 🌹

very submissive kept-boy coryo, but you're a soft dom and you just wanna take care of him forever when you realize how badly he needs you. dacryphilia, begging, coryo on his knees and loving it.

Your heart skips a beat, and you sigh. "Come here." Coriolanus does, not bothering to get up off of his knees and instead shuffling forward towards you til he's right in front of you, hands still clasped. When he reaches you, you place your hands on his shoulders. The second you touch him, his tears start to fall. He starts to lower his head to hide, but you won't let him, placing your fingers under his chin for a moment. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest you think he might be able to hear it, and the sight of his tears falling sends a rush of heat through you. "Please...please just tell me what I can do." He continues, definitely whining now. It's sweet, you think. Maybe you're making a mistake trying to end things. "Well...this is a good start." You say, a little breathless. "I like you on your knees.” Coriolanus blinks, and looks around a bit, up at you, down at himself, as if he just notices now that he's on his knees. He swallows hard, a few more tears falling. He nods. He'll stay on his knees, if that's what you want. And it is what you want. You still want him - you just want him to crawl on his knees for you, give himself more fully. Til he has nothing left. That's what's missing. Coriolanus was still holding back, sweet as he was to you these past weeks. You're beyond aroused. The tension had been building between you these last weeks, but nothing had been done about it. Coriolanus has been a near perfect gentleman, and you’re starting to understand why. You don’t necessarily know what you’re doing, but with Coriolanus on his knees in front of you, it seems nearly instinctual. You touch his cheek. Tears are still coming, though slowly. Your thumb brushes along his wet skin, not wiping the tears away but rather caressing them into his pale skin. “It’s okay,” You tell him softly. “Y-you’re not gunna leave me?” Coriolanus asks, looking up into your face, his own full of hope. “No…I’m not gonna leave you.” You tell him, and he releases almost a dramatically relieved sigh, tilting his cheek into your hand, eyes closed. “Not when you asked so nicely.” You add, watching his face for a reaction. Coriolanus sighs again, enjoying the compliments.

boarwinds

“Ma do my hair like auntie Tigris”

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