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blossomingmoonlight · 4 months ago

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⭑ This is more than a sick love story (Pt.2) ⭑

Masterlist

Part 2 to; "The ballad of the raven and the dragon, Part 1.

Pairing: Benjicot ("Davos") Blackwood x targ!princess!reader

Summary: Returning home after that evening was harder than you thought, the risky letters don't help either. Would it really hurt to meet again?

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, +18, heavy yearning, sexting in medieval times, mastrubation, pillow humping, making out, grinding, handjob, oral both m and f receiving. And some fluff <3.

Word count: 3k

POV: Benjicot Blackwood

A mixture of iron and salt coats his tongue, the clashing of swords and screaming of men fills his ears. Yet another man's blood spraying over his face and garbs. House Bracken wanted revenge for their fallen men and when they heard of the princesses departure they made their move. Even Benjicot could taste the cowardice in their blood. At this point the battle could barely be called a battle anymore as house Bracken had already suffered heavy losses.

Benjicot couldn’t even keep up with the amount of Brackens he killed now, mind in a blur due to the adrenaline and violence. Even the cows didn’t survive. His men killed the remaining of the intruders and the battle was clearly won by house Blackwood. It had only been a week after the princess left and already his heart had a gaping hole which only could be filled by her. She promised she would write secretly, using ravens that would only ever make their way to him.

The sun began to set as they left the sea of bodies behind them, making their way back to Raventree Hall. Upon arrival the gods had clearly answered his prayers because just when he got off his horse and handed him to one of the stable boys a raven flew towards him. Quickly taking the letter he made his way to his only place of privacy, and just like everyday he passed the dining hall. His cock stiffens every time he’s in or passes that room now, memories of the intimacy he shared with the princess flooding his mind. He finally got to his bedchamber and locked the door behind him once inside. Benjicot didn’t even bother to clean himself first, he ripped the unmarked seal off the letter and rolled it open.

Dear B,

I hope you are well, I wrote this as soon as I got home but I suppose the raven will take a bit to get back to you. The whole way back I couldn’t stop thinking about your handsome face, or your hands tracing my body. You are and will be on my mind until I get to see you again, however the idea of maybe never meeting you again strikes fear into my heart. I never thought that that one evening with you would change me so. I was too afraid to tell you this in person but you are the most fearsome, handsome and astounding man I have ever met. We have to meet again, I would not survive without your touch. Even thinking about that evening now sets my chest aflutter and my thighs soaking. You don’t even understand how badly I need you again. I hope you think of me as well. I hope you use my chemise every night to get off to the thought of me. I have thought long and hard about a place we could meet. I think the Whispering Wood is perfect, it is near enough for you to sneak out to and I can easily hide my dragon along the coast of Iron Man Bay. I hope you write back to me soon.

Love, your pretty princess.

His mouth was still agape when there was a knock on his door. “My lord shall I draw a bath for you?” He could hear one of his servants' muffled voice. He rapidly stuffed the letter in his pocket, opened the door and let the servant do her work. Once the bath was drawn he dismissed the servant, he always washed himself since he never liked people just watching him be naked. With the door closing he removed the letter from his pocket and smelled. And like he suspected it smelt of ink, smoke and her perfume oil. Benjicot placed the letter on the small table beside the bath and swiftly removed his clothes. His cock already hard and leaking from reading the letter.

He got in the warm bath with a sigh, he thought for a moment and grabbed the letter from the table next to him. His eyes scanned the words again and he felt his poor weeping cock begging for attention, so he read the letter once again, now grazing his thumb over the leaking slit on the head of his hard member. A mixture of a hiss and groan leaving his lips, he was so horny he didn’t even care if someone heard him. His eyes never leaving the letter he started to roughly jerk off his cock, the words on the paper relighting the memories of their shameful evening.

His perverted mind only added fuel to the fire by imagining new scenarios with you, gods he’d fuck you on his bed, on his chair, on the settee, on the floor, against the wall, fuck even in the bath. The last image really spurred him on, moaning at the thought, he put the letter down for a moment to massage his seed filled balls as well as fisting his cock. Softly chanting your name through the room. “Please- please- fuck me- ride me baby just like that- ah fuck- I can’t-”

Seven Hells even his own dirty little words made the fantasy feel real. Your cunt enveloping his hard sensitive cock, water splashing everywhere as both your moans filled the room. He could feel the familiar knot starting to snap in his belly, he fetched the letter from beside him again, thrusted into his fist a few more times and released ropes of his seed all over your letter. The words blurring as his cum covered them. He panted and shuddered at the sight.

When Benjicot had calmed down from his orgasm he put the letter aside and now actually washed himself, even after he had dried himself off, had hidden the letter, and crawled into bed he still felt aroused. His cock hardening once again he knew his hand wouldn’t do so he threw the sheets of himself, removed his breeches and grabbed his pillow to position it just like he had you bend over the table.

He then grabbed his again leaking precum member and positioned it against the pillow, the texture on his angry red tip feeling like pure bliss, he started humping against the pillow wishing it was you on his bed instead. Fucking the pillow harder and harder he decided it was better to release in his hand instead. So with a cuss and loud moan he spurted his cum in his hand imagining it was your cunt he was filling instead. After having cleaned off his hand in a basin, pulling his breeches back on he could finally fall asleep.

The next morning he immediately fetched paper and ink and started on a letter to write you back, when he was pleased with it he sent it by raven and hoped it would fall into your hands. Afterwards getting on with his duties as lord of Raventree Hall.

Your POV:

A raven flew into the open window of Dragon Stone, the sun had set and you were in your chambers reading a book to your brother Joffrey. It had been two weeks since you sent that letter and you were beginning to get worried but relief washed over you at the sight of the raven. The second the raven landed on your settee you sent Joffrey back to his chambers guided by your handmaiden and told her that she was free for the night. She eyed you suspiciously but has always followed you loyally. When they left you grabbed the letter from the raven which flew away again and opened the unmarked seal, heart beating in your chest, you rolled the letter open.

My dear beloved,

Your raven arrived safely into my hands, I had to open it alone which proved to be needed because of your passionate writing. I am well unless you count the way in which you have plagued my mind. I can’t do any work without thinking, ‘what would my love think of this’ or ‘I wish my love could help me with this’. Seven hells, I can’t even walk in or pass my dining room anymore without my cock growing stiff in my pants. Any thought about you turns sinful, you have perverted me and turned me into a monster. Especially now without your touch. Last night when I read your letter, I read it in my bath. And you know what I did? I fucked my hand imagining it was your sweet cunt instead and when I reached my peak, I came all over your pretty handwriting. Your letter made me so horny I later fucked my pillow in bed too. So it is safe to say I need your touch too. So fucking badly. When you get this letter, try to leave as quickly as possible and head to our location. I will be waiting under the ruse of a solo hunting trip. Don’t make me wait too long my love.

Love your B.

You went to bed with an uncontrollable smile on your face, your skin hot and folds wet at the thought of seeing your Benji again. The next morning you told one of the servants to inform your mother about your “flight to patrol the sea” so you could actually quickly get dressed and leave on dragon back to the Whispering Wood. The entire flight you thought about how meeting him again would go. High above the clouds your mind floods with impure thoughts of Benjicot Blackwood. When you knew you were about to be close to the shore of Iron Man Islands you still stayed high but descended out of the clouds so you could see. And you were right, no one was in sight when you landed with your dragon on the shore.

So you began your pretty short walk to the Whispering Wood, nerves and excitement reeling through your body. Your walk through the Whispering Wood was different, anxiety started to take hold instead. What if he wasn’t able to come? What if someone caught you? However your fears began to ease when you could see the back of Benji’s hair and body who was standing near a small lake in the middle of the forest.

You walked as quietly as possible, wanting to surprise him. When you were near him you cupped your hands over his eyes and heard him laugh. He removed your hands and immediately turned around. He wasted no time crashing his lips on yours making you moan at his roughness. After some time he finally let go. “I have-” “I missed-” You both laughed at both of your attempts to speak first. So he started instead. “I am glad you got my letter, I can’t bear being without your touch and your voice any longer.” You smiled and a blush creeped onto your skin. “I couldn’t wait either. I don’t know what type of spell you casted on me but I don’t ever want to get rid of it.” He grinned at your words and took you in his arms once more.

“I don’t know if I can let you leave again. It would be too painful.” He confessed, holding your head against his chest with one hand and holding your waist with the other. “I don’t ever want to leave you again either but I don’t know how I would ever tell my family about this. And in the middle of a dragon war too.” He held you tighter and kissed the top of your head. “What did you tell them when you left?” Benji asked. “I told one of our servants to tell my mother that I went to patrol the seas, so I hope she bought it. I didn’t want to face her today.” You explained, your hands wrapping around him tighter.

Benji held your chin and made you look at him. He softly licked his lips before devouring yours again like he did mere minutes ago. Except now both of your desires were growing strong. You felt like you were in heat every time he touched you. He kissed you like it was his last day on earth. You had kissed before but this time it was different. Who knew when you would see each other again?

He bit your bottom lip so he could let his tongue enter your mouth. Your feverent kiss turned into a full make out as he sucked and licked your tongue. He couldn’t hold his own groan back and let his hand slide to your ass cheeks, which he gripped harshly to pull you against him just like he did on your special evening. Which earned him a moan from you as you grazed his teeth with your tongue. Never did you think a kiss could turn so ravenous. “Benji-” You gasped against his lips when his hand began to massage your ass harshly.

Making your two fronts grind against each other, his clothed already hard cock hitting your clothed wet cunt just right. He knew exactly what you liked and would do everything in his power to leave you shaking and trembling beneath his touch. “You want this fucking cock baby? You want it that fucking bad?” He pants against your lips, you could only moan a ‘please’ in response.

He removed himself from you and helped you remove your clothes, you had never seen him this touch starved. He was truly acting like an animal. Benji got on his knees in front of you and swung your right leg over his shoulder for better access to where you needed him so badly. Your cunt was throbbing and almost hurting from how aroused Ben made you, your slick already coating your inner thighs. Benji held you steady and began to lap at your soaked folds, moaning at the taste of your sweet arousal.

“Benji- please- I can’t take it-” Your want for him made you more sensitive than normal and all you could think about was how good his tongue was fucking you. It was so warm and wet and the way he used it to lap at your clit made you see stars. He took it a step further and entered a finger into your tight hole. It slipped in with ease and Benji grunted at the feeling, his own cock feeling tight in his breeches.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to take hold of you, with the way he was fingering you and sucking and lapping at your clit, made you dizzy. You could only let out gasps and moans, your entire vocabulary being thrown out the window. With one last scream of his name he let go off you, already removing his pants and breeches ready to fuck you dumb but to his surprise you stopped him. “I want to do to you what you just did to me Benji.” You pleaded already looking up at him with your lashes. He took in a sharp breath and watched you sink to your knees.

Grabbing his leaking cock by the base you decided to lick up the precum and see how he would react. “Fuck- baby do that again. Don’t stop.” He gasped. You did as he commanded and this time sucked at his tip, resulting in him throwing his head back and moaning out of pleasure. The salty precum on your tongue motivated you to swirl your tongue around his tip and continue sucking. His groans and pants and ramblings of your name filled you with need but first you wanted his seed in your mouth again.

You continued to suck on his tip but now took him further in your mouth, earning you quite the explicit and long moan. Finally he looked down at you and softly held your head by your hair, guiding you a bit deeper. “Seven hells, look at you, swallowing my cock like that- You love it don’t you. Me using you as if your a common wench- Fuck- Just like that baby c’mon-” Him talking to you in such a manner made you reach for your clit, which made Benji smile and pant at the sight. Chasing your own release he helped you by guiding your head faster down his cock. Spit and precum drooling down your chin, hair all messed up. How would you even explain that to your family?

“C’mon baby- I’m gonna fucking cum- You want my spent down your throat- Of course you do- Yes- Yes- Fuck!” The view of you cumming rubbing your clit finished him. You basically drank his cum as he filled your throat all while he gasped for air and moaned your name. When he pulled back from you, you licked your lips and smiled up at him. Never had you felt such power over a man. It felt way to fucking good. He pulled you back up and kissed you again. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He laughed breathlessly.

“I think it’s about the same as what you do to me.” You smiled. He kissed your forehead before handing you your clothes again. While you both got dressed that heated, exciting and blissful mood turned quiet and solemn. You both knew you had to get back soon. After you were both dressed he sat down on the ground motioning for you to sit on his lap. You giggled as you joined him on the ground, pushing him back so you could lay on top of him, holding each other close. “I think I love you.” He suddenly blurted out. You looked at him with flushed cheeks and grazed your hand across his, over his lips and through his hair. “I think I love you as well.” He sat back up at your words and kissed you deeply.

“Please, you can’t leave me.” He begged once he removed his lips from yours. “I don’t want to leave you.” You admitted. “You belong to me. You were made for me. I will destroy the world if that’s what it takes to make you my wife.” He rubbed your cheek with his hand as he spoke. “Come with me to Dragon Stone and ask my mother for my hand. If she for some reason refuses, I’ll cut through our guard myself if I have to, and we could run away.” He smiled at that and both of you agreed that he would ask for your hand.

#house of the dragon #hotd #benjicot blackwood x fem reader #benjicot blackwood x reader smut #benjicot blackwood x fem reader smut #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #davos blackwood x reader smut #davos blackwood x fem reader smut #davos blackwood x fem reader

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hitomisuzuya · 1 month ago

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SUZU!!! I wanna say that your writing is so NGHH my go-to scaraspice writers 10/10 Can I request balladeer Scara (Like in the official Genshin universe when he's still in the Fatui) breeding us till he's all sweaty and panting? Like they're trying to see if he can actually produce offspring so they just fuck till they find out one day You're amazing, Suzu. Remember to take breaks and care for yourself! Have a great day/night!! <3

fatui!scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. degradation. multiple creampie. feral!scaramouche.

fatui scara has that extra mmm😳 everyone, feel free to listen to animal by magnolia park while reading. and thank you🥺 i am actually terrified of you all losing interest 😅

scaramouche is a man hell bent on one mission. and one mission only.

to fuck a baby inside of you.

he never even gave a shred of thought to such a weak, human need. until he met you. now the thought consumed him. breeding a baby inside of you would be the biggest fuck you to his..creator. abandoned at birth for crying, thought to be inadequate.

it would scream: look at what i did! he could kill two birds with one stone. giving his mother the middle finger, all while taking care of you and fucking you so good until you were dumb and drooling, his cum dripping from your cunt.

how that for inadequacy?!

he wasn't sure how many times his cock ribboned cum inside of you. panting and breathless, he would just reposition you and stuff his cock back inside of you.

flipping you over, he pulled your hips up and smacked your ass before bullying his cock back inside of you from behind. "i promise i'll fucking show her," he groaned, bottoming out with a languid stroke that made your finger nails claw into the sheets, "i'll fuck you so full, your pretty cunt won't be able to hold it all."

his cock made unholy noises squelching in and out of you. you buried your face in the pillows, pushing back against his cock as drool soaked onto the pillow. you'd been stuck in the same blissful cycle for what felt like hours.

your cervix was bound to be bruised, he is fucking you that keep. but you didn't care. the feeling of him devouring you felt too good. he more than made sure you were cumming hard on his cock before filling you. rinse and repeat.

"my lord, please! fuck me harder!" you cried out, breathless from your next orgasm already knotting intensely inside of you. "i can barely breathe!" you managed behind your moans. your overstimulated walls clutched like a glove around his cock.

scaramouche laughed drunkenly hearing you cry out his rightful title as lord. it made his cock pulse harder between your gummy walls. "shh, it's okay, kitten," he purred, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head up.

outside his tent, he was pretty sure his subordinates could hear how good he was fucking you.

you mewled as your walls squeezed tighter on his cock from the rough treatment. his tongue flicked out along the shell of your ear. "you just keep crying for me like a whore while i fuck you fuller," his hips snapped into yours with a vigor that wasn't going to fade.

his body shuddered in pleasure, wishing he could reach down and caress your stomach, feeling the deep buldge of his cock. he has to be thorough so your belly will swell with child.

he drooled at the thought, smacking his hand across your hair. his bangs clung sweaty to his forehead as he pumped his cock inside of you. his body was burning with the ache to cum inside of you more. "i'll fucking knock you up like i promised. make you my wife. how does that sound, slut?" he moaned, pinching and playing with one of your nipples.

he couldn't believe you and your pretty pussy were tempting him to something as human as marriage. but he never felt so sure of something in his life. he is so fucking in love in hurt. it was almost disgusting to him.

you only moaned louder. "please! please, that's what i want. so so much..." you babbled, reaching down to rub your clit to show how badly you want those things. how badly you want him.

your fierce declaration made his cock spurt cum inside of you, a satisfied groan sounding from him as he curved your back down. he groped around on your stomach, pushing on the buldge.

your orgasm jolted through you, tearing a near scream of pleasure from your throat. your body felt limp, your walls fluttering around his cock as he fucked his cum relentlessly up inside of you. he batted your hand away from your clit.

he delivered a soothing pinch before circling his thumb around the swollen bud. pulling out half way, your toes curled as he slowly pushed himself back in. "another. it isn't enough," he hissed, hastily pulling out and rolling you over onto your back.

you were trembling, and exhausted. lost in a haze of fucked out bliss. you nodded, barely able to sit up and place a few, submissive licks on his mouth. an action that made his cock harder.

you dedicated yourself to pleasing him with every fiber of his being. because he deserves it. he knew he deserved it. that much was evident as he smirked down at you.

rest assured he will have fucked you full five more times before you took that first pregnancy test.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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mygnolia · 3 months ago

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LATE NIGHT WHEN YOU NEED MY LOVE | l. heeseung

୨୧ -› when the distance is long and the fondness too great, you ask your boyfriend, heeseung, for a simple favor.

pair -› idol!heeseung x idol!reader | trope -› established relationship | wc -› 480 | library

you’re lucky he’s on tour not so far away from you, and when he comes back from tonight’s concert, he’s exhausted. while your group was working on recording songs for your upcoming comeback, heeseung had been touring the world with his members, and during your free time, you calculated the best times to call each other, even if it wasn’t every night.

one ring. two rings. “hi, baby,” you murmur, smiling unknowingly when you hear him pick up.

“hello my love.” heeseung finds his heart pounding, as if it were the first time he met you again. “how was your day?”

and you tell him all about the vocal training, about how you love your new song and your concept, and about how some of the photos you took in the studio might be your best ones yet, and how you’d show him when you get the chance.

he chuckles, feeling sleep drag him down as he changes and gets ready for bed. “you’re always beautiful, angel. i’m excited to see them when they come out.” you feel heat rise to your face, never not flattered by your boyfriend’s kind words.

“and you, love? how was the tour?” you can hear the tiredness in his voice, and hope that he catches enough sleep tonight.

“our stop was so energetic,” he gushes, slipping into bed as he tells you all about the fanbase he adores so much. “i was so happy to perform, they always seem to love our songs, but i’m also glad to talk to you now.” and you continue to talk to him about the little things, feeling yourself also grow sleepy as the phone counts minutes upon minutes of your call.

“sleep, baby.” he says, turning over. his heart melts when you whine about wanting to stay on the phone with him longer, until he forces you to tell him about how your schedule looks for tomorrow. “shhh, how could i help from all the way over here, hm?” he responds, laughing quietly when you ask for the impossible task of him showing up to cuddle you to sleep.

“sing for me, yeah?” you ask, a honey-sweet feeling in your voice, and heeseung can’t deny you.

he sings quiet enough to not disturb the other members who are minding their own business before bed, and you feel yourself slipping into dreamland when he starts to sing the unreleased ballad he wrote himself, as well as a few others that ENHYPEN had previously released.

and when the line goes quiet, heeseung smiles to himself, his chest filling with care for you. and although you are hundreds of miles away from each other, he sends his love, even if it’s through the line.

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bonesandchalamet · 1 year ago

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you can’t catch me now — coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: when you want the plinth prize, and so does he, you’ll do anything in your power to make sure snow doesn’t land on top.

warnings: slightly unedited/ minor grammatical errors + snow isn’t that much of an asshole + minor tension between characters + no graphic details of death + SPOILERS TO THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES!

a/n: typically don’t like to write for villains… but that movie has been on my mind since I saw it 😅

when the plinth prize had a minor change in plans the only person you could look towards was him. snow. he had to have an idea, but by the reaction that took place, the way he shifted in his seat, he’d have had no clue. this must have been some sick joke. but the hunger games was all about discipline and viewers, it’s no shock the plinth prize money stakes were upped.

you’d have risen to the top and fought coriolanus snow every moment you could. academics were easy, but this? mentoring someone to win a game? this was a true test.

leaving the capital, leaves crunch beneath your feet as your pace quickens. how was this fair? to throw children in an arena to fight for their lives, that was one unfair choice the capital made, but this? was a cruel punishment.

you can hear his feet against the pavement. his pace was always rather faster than yours, which is why you’re surprised he hadn’t caught up to you now. you’d had booked it out the capital the second you were dismissed, but the dread of the next few days still lingered the air like bad perfume.

“y/n, y/n—“

“corio,” you finally snap. turning on your heel to face him, he stops. the air in his lungs catches when he sees the tears against your blush colored cheeks. you held your fight for the rights of the district close to your chest, similarly to sejanus; but you’d only ever been the one to push snow to the limits and make him fight back. tomorrow, your tribute could die and Coriolanus would win once again. it wasn’t fair how snow seemed to always win.

“you think I’m happy about this?” his question takes you by surprise. nobody was happy about this, but coriolanus’ songbird made quite the impression with viewers. you’d expected him to gloat in your face, a typical action of his, but todays far different. there’s an eery difference to the coriolanus you saw that morning before the plinth prize was changed.

“I’d expect you to be happy about your bird gaining you views and donations—“

“she’ll die by tomorrow, y/n. your guy at least has a chance to win. he’s strong enough to take on the others. you’ve got the money in the bag.” he runs a frustrated hand through his white blond curls. his bright blue eyes stare into your soul the way they normally do. so tempting to swim in, but you fight the current. you’re stronger than that, and after all these years of fierce competition, Coriolanus was not going to get you like this.

“I know your motives, snow. sympathizing with me isn’t going to get you far.” you spit out the words, spinning back in the direction towards home. if it wasn’t for the capital traffic, and coriolanus, you’d be home by now. you’d be in bed dreading sleep while you worry awake about the next morning.

“motives? can’t we be friends for once—“

“you want my alliance so my guy doesn’t kill her. I’m always a step ahead of you.”

he scoffs. he stands inches behind you, watching you eye the traffic circle for a chance to sprint across towards the grass for the home stretch. the comforting walls of your bedroom were waiting for you, but coriolanus and rush hour were adding to your time.

“alliance? if I’d wanted an alliance I’d have asked sejanus for help, since he has the money we both don’t have.”

it’s no secret to the two of you that money was tight. it’s maybe why you both work harder than the others, because college was in their futures, and your futures were determined by the outcome of the hunger games. the first time you met Coriolanus, you knew he was just like you. tight shoes, shirt that was far too big, and an excitement for the amount of food that capital had to offer. staring into each others souls that first lecture was when you knew coriolanus was not going to be your friend.

“so then what do you want from me? because once this is all over,” you snap your head up in his direction, his blue eyes piercing into your own, you can feel his anxiety radiating off him, “you’ll go back to hating me and begging for some of that plinth money.”

—

anxiety sits at the pit of your stomach. his songbird had run to the fans leaving four remaining in the pact on the hunt for her. coriolanus sits two seats away from you, his eyes haven’t left the screen since she’d gone into hiding.

“she’ll have to come out eventually.” you snap your head in his direction for a brief second, but his don’t leave where the four attempt to get her out of the vents.

you’d be lying to say you weren’t nervous for everyone in the arena. you’d hated how they were pitted against each other for punishment, and having to mentor these people made your attachment towards the games far worse. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep, and frankly if you could, you wouldn’t watch.

there was no exact plan when you met your tribute. he’d been shaken up from the past couple of days and just wanted to survive. you couldn’t blame him, and while you worked on some strategies, it was all up to him.

“she can survive—“ his words were a second too late when the clan began to rattle the vents, using pitch forks and other weapons to get her out. the dust was too heavy for the cameras to see anything, but you’d assumed they got her out by the looks of it, and everyone held onto their seats.

she’d appeared from the dusty air in no time. running for another escape, when Dr. Gauls trick up her sleeve rattled the arena. she had a way of twisting the games, and the game seemed to last longer than she intended: enter the tank the drones were dropping off.

“what is she doing.” you move closer to coriolanus, your voice in a hushed tone so the other remaining mentors didn’t hear a thing. he’s focused on the screen, but your eyes find Dr. Gaul and her wicked smile.

“if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you anyway—“

“there’s no point in bluffing, they’ll die anyway with that tank of snakes.” your voice is strained, the words come out slithery on your tongue, coriolanus turns his head in your direction for the first time today.

his blue eyes were a different shimmer. they bleed with anxiety, and as he rises out of the chair, he pulls you closer to his chest. he carefully lowers his head down towards your ear, mouth hovering over it, “I’m so sorry, but it had to be done. I wouldn’t look if I were you.”

slowly moving backwards from his grip, you run towards the doors. time seemed to slow down. you spot Tigris, she’s rising from her seat, a smile stretched across her face as her, and other students, rush to congratulate coriolanus on his victory, you can hear him calling out your name as the doors slam behind you.

your feet carry you. the sounds of the fireworks and the honks of the cars in the traffic circle don’t phase you, but you’re running to the only place that you know. the only place that’ll play fair against coriolanus snow’s twisted games.

MONTHS LATER

“so you do win after all.”

the sound of his shoes scraping against the floor are different. you used to recognize his patterned steps, the way they scuffed the floor because the shoes he wore were too small.

turning around in your chair, you spot the new coriolanus snow. the man who fell off the face of the capital once Dr. Gaul was made aware of his cheating. now, you sit in the University library staring a different snow.

“I didn’t have to cheat for it.”

he rolls his eyes taking the seat across from you at the table. your notes are scattered amongst the table, and you look the same minus the bags you wear under your eyes. university changed you. and district twelve certainly changed him. working through the ranks to move to district two, only to be summoned by Dr. Gaul for a second chance in the capital. he arrived home yesterday, and made it his plans to find you. which wasn’t hard, since you spent all your life in this exact library anyway.

“I learned my lesson. you caught me.” he raises his hands up in defense, you spot the marks against his forearm. leaning forward, you carefully wrap your fingers around his pale skin, “snake bite?”

“they aren’t friendly in the wild.”

a chuckle escapes your lips as you release his arm from your light grip, “they were friendly to Lucy gray.”

“well she’s not so friendly to me anymore.”

“oh corio, you should know cheating for a girl never makes a good impression.” you smile brightly. leaning back into your seat, you get a better look at him. the buzzcut suits him, bringing his bright blue eyes more to the center of his looks.

he exhales a deep sigh nodding in agreement, “I’m a changed man, thanks to you. you taught me a lot.”

“so what are you doing home, snow? I thought you were out of here for twenty years.” at least those were the rumors you heard. nobody spoke of sejanus or coriolanus much anymore, and while you worried if tattling was the right thing to do, you’re happy to see he came back a better version of himself.

“you didn’t hear?” he asks. shaking your head you gesture for him to continue, “I’ll be working closely with Dr. Gaul. I’m back to the capital, and I’m back to mess with you.”

you wish he could’ve seen how far you rolled your eyes back, but he was long gone after that, leaving you alone to study once again. you knew Coriolanus wouldn’t last twenty years away from you. not since he was practically in love with you.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #Coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fic #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader

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peachysunrize · 6 months ago

Text

The Ballad of a Dragon ⥃ Modern!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: after an argument with your husband, you find him playing his frustration away and eventually apologizes to you on top of his piano.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst, fluff, p in v, oral(F!receiving) fingering, Aemond eats pussy like a champ, both parties are so petty, post argument/make up sex, hand kink, body worship, Aemond knows how to work with those fingers, he plays piano👀 tell me if I’ve missed something. English isn’t my first language<3 no beta...

Word count: 3.15k+

A/n: so this pure filth is based on this post, and @barbieaemond motivated me to write it! So thank you, my love, and thanks to Aemond’s long fingers for being a great inspiration to write a hand kink fic. I’m also taking a little break from writing for a month or so<3

“You just came home, Aemond! We had a reservation for tonight that you missed, you arrived at midnight from work and now you are taking a call to go and fix Rhaenyra’s stupid mistakes again?” You groan, pacing around your bedroom with Aemond burying his face in his hands, sitting on the bed in front of you.

“I can’t just turn a blind eye to them when they need help!” He explains, raising his voice a little. He is frustrated beyond words; work has been hectic lately and the company’s responsibility has fallen on his shoulders, forcing him to carry the weight alone.

“You’re already half blind, it wouldn’t hurt to close your other eye and ignore them for once!” You know you shouldn’t have said that, but you’re fed up with all the negligence, nights staying up just for him to either sleep in his office or crawl into bed at four in the morning.

It isn’t his fault mostly, it’s the pressure his father, siblings, and Otto put on him, but you wish he would say something and stand up for himself.

“That was a very low blow, wife,” he says through gritted teeth, glaring at you as he puts his elbows on his knees, “I can’t let her mess up everything we have worked so hard for! This company will be ruined if I don’t fix Rhaenyra’s fuck ups!”

“It’s not your responsibility, Aemond! It’s hers! It’s her mistake, it’s her fucking fault! I shouldn’t be begging my husband to make time for me, his wife, and spend some time home! You reserved the table, you told me to get ready because you wanted to take me out on a date! I’m just glad I didn’t go to the restaurant myself or tomorrow’s headlines would have been worse for your reputation than Rhaenyra’s mistake can ever be.”

“My work is my priority! This is my family’s business, do you know what that is? Family? Because by the way you’re acting, I’m not quite sure you have the slightest idea.” He stands up as well, running his fingers through his hair as each word falls from his lips and you feel the sting of each one in your chest.

“I can’t believe you, Aemond. How can your work be any more important than your wife?! How? I get it, you’re this tough guy, knight in shining armor always trying to get on your father’s good side and want his praises. I get it, you’re desperate for his affection. But what about me? I spent hours getting ready for my husband, just for you to treat me like trash! I left my family because of you, Aemond, and I would do it a thousand times more because I love you. Although I can’t say the same about you.” You know it was a pathetic move to get a rise out of him, but after what he said, it’s only fair to treat him just as he is treating you.

Tears sting your eyes as you look at how red he has gotten, knowing that you’ve woken up the hot-tempered dragon inside him. Good, he needs to feel ashamed and angry for how small he made you feel with each mean word that he said.

“You think I don’t love you anymore?” He asks, his voice barely above whispering, but you hear him perfectly and see how rapidly his chest is moving with the deep breaths he is trying to take.

“No, but I can’t deny that I’m doubting it. You put work over the family we created together, over your wife, and you want me to accept it without complaining, without telling you how much I miss you and how it hurts to be apart from you while you constantly choose your work over me!” You sob, putting your hands on your hips as you turn away from him. Even the sight of him makes your heart clench.

“I’m working my ass off for you to be content with your life, to have enough money to waste on petty and unnecessary stuff—“

“Don’t you dare guilt trap me, Aemond Targaryen! Don’t you fucking dare make me feel bad for wanting to spend time with my husband!” You nearly scream at him, tears now falling freely from your eyes as you turn around to look at him.

Even at this moment, he looks so beautiful — silver hair shining under the dim light of the room, his white shirt unbuttoned a little and his sleeves rolled up, showing off his toned forearms. If you weren’t so mad at him, you would have jumped on him the second he walked through that door.

“I can not control my siblings! They are idiots, sure but do you have any idea how bad their actions can destroy everything we have worked so hard for? I need to go because my father called.” he tries to reach for you, but you pull your hand away from him, taking a step back because you can’t bear him trying to sweet talk his way out of this like he always does. You shouldn’t let him minimize your feelings.

“Your father or Otto? Did he say if you save Rhaenyra’s ass, you would become Viserys Targaryen’s favorite child? It looks as if his affection is worth more than our marriage.”

“Stop with this nonsense, you know it’s not!” he glares at you, his pupil blown with rage. How could you ever think like that? Did he truly drive himself away from you to the point that you doubted his love for you?

“Do I, Aemond? Do I? Because instead of apologizing to me you are telling me how your work was more important than not showing up for a date you organized! I felt so beautiful, Aemond, so happy that after such a long time my husband was going to come to pick me up and spend the night with me! Now I just… I just feel so fucking stupid for getting my hopes high.”

You watch him take a deep breath, shaking his head as he marches out of the room swiftly, not bothering to spare a glance at you. He is frustrated, you get it, but to leave in the middle of an important argument like a child being denied a candy is pretty immature of him.

You sigh and wipe your tears, walking towards your wardrobe to pull out one of your sheer nightgowns, changing into it to sleep in something comfortable while your husband's side of the bed gets colder by the second.

The sound of music fills the house gradually, taking you by surprise. The last thing you expect is to hear your husband’s favorite classical piano piece echoing within the walls, and you halt in your steps, guilt creeping inside your chest as you listen to the distant sound of the piano before you grab your robe and walk toward the playroom.

You find the door open already — the orange hue of the lights illuminates his silver hair and sharp jawline, his eye is closed while his fingers move in rhythm, each finger pressing the right note on the tempo, and you can see the frustration and tension leaving his shoulders the longer he plays.

Nocturne in C-sharp minor fills the air around you, and you remember how he played this the first time the two of you met; it was filled with so much laughter and excitement as he gushed about his love for classical pieces, how hard he tried to regain his posture and strength while he lost half of his eyesight. You guess you fell in love with him at that very second he sat behind the piano in the instrumental shop.

Your gaze falls on his hand, long denty fingers moving with grace, pressing the keys one by one, and you lean on the doorframe, fidgeting with the hem of your robe while you rub your thighs together, the images of how those same fingers have given you the most blissful orgasms ever flooding your mind.

You watch him pushing the pedals down, his eye following the path of the notes he has memorized on the keys, and you keep admiring his ethereal form. Sometimes it feels unbelievable to be the wife of such a beautiful and otherworldly man, to be this lucky to call yourself Mrs. Targaryen, yet, there are moments you recall how everyone told you that the same name comes with a curse, that Targaryen men are ambitious and cunning. They are right on both matters.

The slickness between your thighs gets worse the more you stare at him and his skillful fingers move as if this is the easiest piece known to mankind with how smoothly he is playing it.

He plays the last note, sighing softly as he retrieves his fingers from the keys, turning around to look at you with an easy smile on his thin lips.

“Thought you had left before I heard you playing,” you say, matching his smile, growing a bit nervous with how his eye drinks the sight of your exposed thighs.

“I had half a mind to do so,” he replies, extending his hand to show he wants you close, “C’mere,”

You push away from the doorframe, walking to where he is sitting before trailing your hand over his extended arm, his large palms coming to rest on your waist. He looks up at you, fingers gently massaging your back.

“I’m sorry, I…”

He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your stomach before placing his chin on the soft flesh, “I should apologize. I didn’t realize how terrible I was treating you. You are my priority, I should have treated you much better.”

“I…I was in the wrong too. It was very pathetic of me to act so desperately, I know how much your work means to you—“

“No, no,” he stands up, caging you between his body and the piano, forcing you to sit a bit on the keys, a not-so-great sound coming out of the instrument, “You aren’t desperate, and even if you are, you do have a great excuse for it. I neglected you for a job that can be done by anyone.”

“It was a petty argument anyway, I’m sorry for being mean. I miss you so much, that’s all,” you say, gasping when he picks you up so effortlessly by the back of your thighs, putting you on top of his royal piano before he takes home between your legs.

“I miss you too, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning down to peck the corner of your lips, “I could see how truly desperate you were when you rubbed your pretty thighs together.”

“Y-you saw that?” You exhale, craning your neck to give him more space to attack the skin of your neck, littering his little bruises and bites all over you.

“I know my wife, I know her weaknesses. I could smell you from here, and I’m sure if I were to touch you down there…” he locks his eye with yours, one of his hands traveling down towards your panties, chuckling darkly, “my my, so wet and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking your essence off them while he holds eye contact, watching how your lips part in desire as you keep your gaze fixed on his lips and tongue.

“Lay down, I need to apologize to my wife properly,” he pulls the strings of your robe, dropping the fabric on the floor, revealing the sheer fabric to his hungry eye, “I’m an idiot for taking you for granted. Fuck, baby, you look so delicious.”

You pant as his words go straight to your core, heat filling your belly and your wetness oozing out of you slowly. He puts his palm on your chest, gently pushing you back on the cold surface of the piano before he spreads your legs properly, humming as his good eye finds your glistening cunt.

He kisses your knee before pulling his chair closer and sit on it, his tall body giving him the advantage of coming to the same height as your body. Aemond preps your inner thighs with kisses, marking his territory with each nibble and bite which are rewarded by gasps and whimpers from you ever here and there.

He kisses your navel sweetly, nuzzling his head into your hand when you reach down to smooth a few wandering strands of his hair out of his face. You keep him close when he finally, after who knows how long, gives into his urges and attaches his lips to your buzzing clit, moaning as your sweet nectar finally roots its taste onto his tongue.

He is starved, and you realize soon with how he keeps his face buried into your cunt, tongue flickering over the bundle of nerves, teeth sinking into your flesh a little. He doesn’t seem to care about how messy he is eating you out, he has set his goal of making you at least come on his tongue twice tonight.

“Aemond!” your moans fill the room, back arching off the piano as he keeps you down by his hands on your hips, the tip of his tongue collecting your wetness happily while you writhe beneath him, feeling the knot in your belly tightening by the second.

He knows you like the back of his hand, so he speeds up a little, focusing on sucking and licking your clit while you buck your hips to his face. He loves how desperate you are for him, all laid out and pretty and ready to come just for him.

“Fuck, love, I’m—” You throw your head back, tangling your fingers through his hair before you explode on his tongue, whines of pleasure making him dizzy. He keeps flickering his tongue until you stop twitching and push his face away from your swollen pussy.

He grins at your breathless form, caressing your thighs as he stands up and kisses a path from your lower belly up to your lips over your nightgown before he pulls you in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his pink bruised lips.

“I could feast on you all day, sweetheart. I should write a ballad in honor of your pretty cunt,” “You are unbelievable!” You giggle, leaning on your elbows to kiss him again, moving until you are at the edge with your husband between your legs, “You said twice, why are you still up here?” You whisper against his lips.

“I saw how you looked at my hands earlier. I think it would be only fair to make sure you forgive me if I fuck you with my fingers, hmm? You love them, I’m sure they can be convincing enough.”

You nod, words failing to come out of your mouth when he pushes the strands of your nightgown down your shoulders, the chilly air of the room hitting your bare breasts. He leans down to kiss the top of your chest, writing the ballad he promised with his lips over your skin.

His hand moves down where he was a few minutes ago, long digits rubbing between your soaked folds slowly. He makes sure you aren’t as sensitive as you were before he pushes one finger in, keeping you close to him with a hand on your back while the other works his finger in and out of you, drowning your moans with passionate kisses.

He adds another one, curving his fingers inside you slightly as he pushes them deeper, reaching your sweet spots effortlessly with how skilled and long his fingers are — courtesy of practicing piano from a young age.

“Aemond, fuck—please!” your desperate whine adds fuel to the fire starting inside him, and he compiles, fucking you faster with his hand while the rock of his palm rubs your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You fall apart again easily, gasping as your thighs start shaking with how good he makes you come, lips forming into an O-shape while he keeps his pace up, making sure that you ride your high gracefully before he pulls you in for another rough kiss, his tongue invading your mouth quickly.

“I need you so much, sweetheart,” he says, unbuckling his belt before he pushes his pants and boxers down enough to pull out his weeping cock, “let me have you, baby, please.” “Yes, yes I need you too. It’s been so so long, Aem,” you reach to stroke him gently, scooting closer to him so he can pull you down a little, keeping you tucked between his firm body and piano while somehow holding you up by his large palms under your ass.

You guide him toward your entrance, gasping in union as soon as the fat tip of his cock breaches past your ring of muscles before he pushes himself deep inside you until there is none to take.

You cling to his shoulders as soon as he settles inside your cunt, his hot breath fanning on your face as he gets adjusted to your warmth. It’s been too long for both of you, but he makes a promise to not make the same mistake again, ever.

“Fuck, love, I missed you so much,” he groans in your ear as he starts thrusting up into you, the angle making him reach the deepest part of your pussy easily.

“Me too, baby…” you gasp, hips snapping into his as he goes faster, less patient and ready to devour you thoroughly. You take what he gives you, deep hard strokes that rock your world and leave you breathless and a moaning mess. He relishes every sound that falls from your lips, thinking to himself how no classical piece can ever come close to how beautiful you sound when he pleasures you, and he silently beats himself for neglecting you so much.

He is close, embarrassingly fast and he can feel you tightening around his girth with each thrust. Aemond hides his face in your neck, quickening his pace as he fucks you roughly, pulling screams of ecstasy out of you with ease.

“Come inside me,” you bite his earlobe, your breasts rubbing against his covered chest as you lean upward a little, “I need you, please, husband.”

“Then come with me, come now so I can give my girl what she wants,” he replies, snapping his hips faster into yours until you crumble in his arms, gushing around his cock a few seconds before he follows you, keeping his hips still as he pumps you full of his warm cum, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

“Don’t you dare put us through that again, Aem, do you hear me?” you ask him, kissing the side of his face lovingly.

“I’d rather die than upset you again, beloved.”

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond fanfiction #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #modern aemond targaryen #rue:smut #rue:angst

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martygraciesversion381 · 15 days ago

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SO LONG MONACO

oscar piastri x reader

masterlist

summary: you are a famous singer who just went through a breakup with charles leclerc.....who knows what will your fans think of your new album and what secrets are hidden behind it?

warnings: none except mention of break up, smau

face claim: olivia rodrigo (love u liv<3)

a/n: this was usually posted on my old account (i changed the pics tho)

yourusername

liked by conangray, taylorswift, sabrinacarpenter and others

yourusername: stay tuned big thing happening tonight at my concert🤭

76,657 comments

username1: OMG NEW ALBUM TONIGHT?!

↳ username2: about charles?!

↳ username1: omg he should fear her

logansargeant: stunning like always but that first pic is amazing

↳ yourusername: stfu logan

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, sabrinacarpenter, taylorswift and others

yourusername: surpise! my brand new album 'loml' (as love of my life) is coming out on july 17th can't wait for all of you to hear it! thanks to sabrina to accepting to work with me!<3

98,678 comments

yourusername: sorry for shitty quality of the second pic😅 here's the tracklist:

loml, drivers license, lacy, the grudge, all i want, all too well (10 minutes version), exile, you're losing me, so long london, the smallest man who ever lived, how did it end?, robin, peter, the black dog, all because i liked a boy (ft. sabrina carpenter) (pinned comment)

sabrinacarpenter: best collab i ever made<3 (liked by yourusername)

logansargeant: so proud of you! (liked by yourusername)

taylorswift: so so proud of you! you deserve everything

↳ yourusername: omg did the one and only taylor swift just comment on my post?!

charlesleclerc: should i be scared?

↳ yourusername: you should 😈

↳ username1: 🤣

username5: I WAS THERE WHEN SHE ANNOUNCED IT!!!

username2: you're soo gorgeous can't wait to hear it<3

yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter, conangray, taylorswift and others

something is coming......

comments are turned off for this post

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, conangray, sabrinacarpenter and others

yourusername: hi! it's me again! so...i felt productive and decided to add some songs to my album<3 (special thanks to conan and oscar and maybe also charles who inspired these songs) enjoy! (still out on july 17th btw) here's the new songs:

deja vu, good 4 u, vampire, get him back!, love is embarassing, now that we don't talk, gorgeous, king of my heart, so american, obsessed, dress, call it what you want, false god, jealousy jealousy, hope ur ok (this one is about conan), ballad of a homeschooled girl, pretty isn't pretty, so american, obsessed and the archer <3

76,657 comments

username1: OMG!!!! can't wait!!!

username2: are you free on july 17...NO!

charlesleclerc: ok now i'm scared

conangray: can't wait!!!! (liked by yourusername)

taylorswift: wait! this is amazing!!! (liked by yourusername)

F1NEWS

liked by f1wags, landonorris and others

f1news: famous singer Y/N Y/LN was spotted today at the miami gp with driver oscar piastri

45,675 comments

username1: NEW WAG?!

landonorris: i'm just gonna leave this here....@/yourusername @/oscarpiastri

username2: i'm sure some songs in her new album are about him

username3: I SHIP!

↳ username4: ME TOO!!

↳ username5: SAME!!!

tap to see more answers

username6: ew he deserves better

username7: how can people like them together?

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter, conangray and others

yourusername: LOML is out now! go listen and enjoy! (ps: yes the last songs are about oscar🤭)

76,657 comments

oscarpiastri: so proud of you baby ❤️

↳ yourusername: love u❤️

taylorswift: my child is growing so quickly i'm a proud mother (liked by yourusername)

conangray: wow! bonan and i are proud of you ❤️🤣 (liked by yourusername)

↳ username3: conan is so real🤣🤣 like he's a conhead himslef🤣

sabrinacarpenter: love this album and u so much❤️ (liked by yourusername)

THE END!

hope you liked this (it's my first time posting a fanfic i'm so happy!) btw if you saw any spelling mistakes no you didn't 🤭

#fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #olivia rodrigo #taylor swift #conan gray #sabrina carpenter

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

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Pure as the Driven Snow || Tom Blyth x Singer!reader

Summary: You surprise Tom as you sing Pure as the Driven Snow at a concert that he watches.

Warnings: none :)

Wc: 678

Tom Blyth x singer!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

You’ve had the idea for quite a while now after watching the new Hunger Games with Tom. Rachel even thought it was a great idea as you practiced the song with her without Tom knowing.

You were at a concert in London, Tom slightly to the side of the crowd as he watches you like the supportive boyfriend he is. The crowd screamed the second you stepped on stage as you performed your songs with them, Tom singing along as he takes videos and photos of you.

Just as everyone thought the concert was going to end, Tom included, you speak up. “I have a little surprise for everyone,” You smile as you hear cheers, “I’m going to sing one final song,” You say as you grab your guitar.

You look directly at Tom as you start playing the tunes to the song as the crowd erupts in screams, immediately recognising the tune you were playing. Tom stood there stunned.

“Everyone’s born as clean as a whistle,” You sing into the mic as you close your eyes, really feeling the music. Tom’s eyes never left you. He watched with a smile during the entirety of the song as he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

“I’ve taken some hits, so no wonder I’m wary, It’s why, I need you,” You direct your gaze at Tom who looks at you with so much love in his eyes. Fans catch the interactions between the two lovers as they record it and take photos, going absolutely crazy. “You’re as pure as the driven snow,”

Tom takes a moment to feel his cheeks, they were hot as he smiles like a silly man at you. He had no idea that you were going to sing this at all. “This world goes blind when children are dying, I turn into dust but you never stop trying,”

You were an incredibly talented singer, everyone knew that. Your voice was perfection, perfect for this song as if it was made for you to sing. Your singing entranced everyone in the crowd, including Tom. “It’s why, I love you,” You once again direct your entire body towards Tom. “you’re as pure as the driven snow,”

You couldn’t help but slightly let out a laugh as you sing when Tom blows kisses at you. Fans caught this on camera as they screamed, finding the two of you so wholesome. The moment you finish the song, Tom wastes no time on running up on stage and sweeping you up from your feet, you giggle in pure bliss.

“I loved it,” He says in your ear over the loudness of the crowd. “I love you,” You take either side of his face in your hands as you stare at each other before he kisses you deeply. You almost got carried away until you remembered you had a crowd of hundreds watching the both of you.

“Tom, everyone knows how your girlfriend, Y/n Abrams sang one of the songs from the movie, Pure as the Driven Snow was it? At her latest concert, can you tell us a little more about it?” Tom rubs his jawline as a smile makes it to his face, the memory of you singing that song to him still fresh on his mind.

“Yes uh well first of all, caught me by surprise that’s for sure,” He chuckles. “I’m a lucky man, she made me fall even more in love with her if that is even possible,” He admits as the interviewer smiles at him.

“Made you fall in love with me even more?” Was the first thing you say when Tom picks up the call. You hear silence on the other end before you hear his laugh, making you smile. “It’s true what I said darling,” Tom huskily says as you play with the ring he gave you on your finger.

“When are you coming back home, I miss you,” Tom could hear the pout through your voice as he chuckles. “On my way home right now, sweetheart.”

#tom blyth #fanfiction #tomblythfluff #tom blyth x singer!reader #tom blyth x gf!reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #tom blyth x reader #hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #gracie abrams #Spotify

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year ago

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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 11: hate/angry sex with scaramouche from genshin impact

warnings: rough sex, degrading, choking, cockstepping, cock-strap traditions, bondage, hair pulling, belly bulging

notes: i mean scaramouche guys not wanderer!!!! scaramouche when he was a fatui harbinger!!!!

“f-fuck! you think… you can just appear out of nowhere so suddenly — guhhg! and take the seat of the eighth?” the short puppet tries to muffle his groans and whines, bucking his hips up into your feet the more you step down on his crotch.

how did it get here again? right. scaramouche and his mouth running all over the place, saying how you were a nobody who appeared out of nowhere and took the seat of the eighth harbinger with nothing to prove. at first, you just ignored him. he was known to be crude and loves to run his mouth all over the place after all. but over time, the constant jabs and threats to your title became a little bit too annoying.

which lead to here. his hands tied up behind his back, kneeling in front of you on the rug covered floor of your office as you step on his tiny cock all the while reading some work papers like it was nothing. of course, someone must teach the puppet some manners, yes?

paying no mind to his hissing and venom covered words, you only continue to keep your foot in place on his crotch. how much time had passed by now? who knows.

you were just skimming through some much needed paperwork while using the sixth’s cock as a makeshift footrest. he had already came in his shorts already and the sheer embarrassment of coming untouched was eating scaramouche up inside.

after finishing up the stacks of documents in your hand, you finally decided to pay some attention to the poor whining thing kneeling before you. cheeks flushed red, slight drool slipping down his chin mixed with his own blood as he bites down on his lip. there was a cute growing stain in his dark shorts.

what an amusing sight. perhaps this newfound pet of yours could be given a reward.

reaching a hand down, you pat his head gently. that snapped him out of his momentary daze as he looks up at you, confused yet also slightly relieved. but his relief doesn’t last long when your hand fists at his purple hair, pulling him up before bending him over your desk. this new position had balladeer’s mind reeling with all sorts of imaginations.

he had always wanted you to just bend him over your desk, taking him in any way or form you desired as he cries in your hands about how big you were. or how you were fucking him so good. or how your assistant could hear you two. call it whatever you will, but balladeer wasn’t as sharp and strong as his tongue.

he wanted to be used by you. and this new position you thrown him into was making him reel with excitement.

“such dirty mouth you have, balladeer. no one ever taught you a lesson, huh? but that’s okay. i’ll be sure to teach you a good lesson, you filthy slut” you hiss in a low voice, making quick work of his shorts as the fabrics pool down to his ankles. the warmth of the fireplace providing heat into the office still doesn’t stop the short man from shivering. excitement? probably. but also mixed with a hint of eagerness and enthusiasm as his hips twitch back to you.

“h-hah?! what did you just call me? i’m your superior, eighth. you’re nothing but just a replacement. if anyone should be taught a lesson, it’s you!” scaramouche yells, trying to keep up the facade of the ever-angry harbinger lord. yet the slight quiver in his voice sways from his words.

he was excited. more so when he hears your belt unbuckle and pants unzip as the wet sounds of lube follows. he could feel your hand spreading his asscheeks apart before your tip presses against his puckering hole. fuck, just put it in already. he even prepped himself for you just so he can be used, so hurry it up!

almost as if sensing his inner thoughts, you let out a chuckle. his hope was already prepped as the remains of the lube he used still glistening around his pink rim.

“such a filthy slut” with that, you bottom out inside him in one thrust, making scaramouche choke on his scream of pleasure.

ah, you felt so good inside him! so big and girthy, mushroom tip kissing his stomach and causing a belly bulge in his tiny form. you easily grazed against his prostate and he was so sure that you were fucking him full of your fat cock, rearranging his insides. you felt even better than those stupid small toys he used!

wasting no time and giving him no moment to collect himself, your hand sneaks up behind him, wrapping around his slim throat. putting just enough pressure to remind him of his place to the sides of his neck, you start to move your hips. the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and scaramouche’s choked up whines and punched out shrill moans fill up the confined space of your office.

briefly, when pulling him up and making him arch his back against your chest, you could see a cute bulge appear and disappear into his stomach. a result of the size of your strap. just seeing that was enough to make you proud. you were fucking his stomach and he loved that feeling.

“you love that? you love having me inside you, balladeer? look down here. my cock is fucking your tummy” you hum softly to his ear, free hand tapping a finger against his smooth skin. just as he was told, scaramouche looks down to where your finger was tapping.

oh archons, have mercy. just as you said, there was a bulge in his stomach. appearing and disappearing whenever your hips would pull back before meeting his own again and again. seeing that, the small puppet lets out a weak mewl as he comes all over your desk, leaving his thighs shaking.

seeing that some of your work papers got dirtied, you tighten your hold around his slim neck, making the puppet whine deliriously as he drools.

“no good. can’t have my slut dirtying my papers. but it’s okay. i’ll make sure to discipline you well until you learn to ask me for permission before you cum” all scaramouche could do was nod over and over. feeling the familiar feeling of orgasm tightening in his core again.

you would have to teach him well.

#nobu.writes #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub!genshin #sub!genshin impact #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche #sub fatui #sub!character #sub character #x dom reader #dom reader #dom!reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin smut #scaramouche smut #nobu’s kinktober 2023

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mingtinys · 6 months ago

Text

lost for words

pairing : lee jihoon x gn!reader

fluff , drabble , ultimate simp jihoon

warnings : none

word count : 0.6 k

requested ? no

a/n : this is what i imagine it would sound like if woozi wrote his own "shall i compare thee to a summers day"

Jihoon is nothing short of talented. A maestro amongst artists and a musical prodigy to his peers.

He can pluck strings until they sing and make his fingertips fly across piano keys in a way that makes them melt together into a symphony. He can breathe life into a school child's recorder that could charm a brewing storm and he can fit together words like a jigsaw to reveal a lyrical masterpiece worthy of the Louvre. Trust, Jihoon has no qualms over his musical competence.

But how is it that he struggles to find any combination of words suitable to the occasion? Why now does his brain falter when it thinks of ways to encompass just how much he loves you? Not a dictionary in the world would be adequate enough to measure that of which he feels.

Because what he feels for you could not possibly be contained to ink on paper, you're much too special for something as archaic as that. Everything about you is so breathtaking. An enigma he's simply been blessed to experience in this lifetime. Jihoon could carve your likeness into crystal under the moonlight and it wouldn't be nearly as mesmerizing as the real thing.

Jihoon believes you outshine even the brightest stars against a jet-black sky. He'd choose the ones in your eyes to stare at for hours over the Milky Way in a heartbeat. Your voice sings a sweeter melody than Apollo's harp on a warm summer day. One he wishes he could capture and play on a loop for all of eternity. If all of history's greatest composers put their minds to one piece, still, they could not conduct a symphony worthy of your essence.

And, oh, how you call his name has him hearing bells. You light a fire inside him like flint dragged across steel— like a bow across strings. Your hand fits into his palm like the bout of a violin and he can't get enough of the harmony you bring to his life. Just your presence alone grounds him in ways he never knew possible.

When he kisses your lips, Jihoon can taste a song so decedent it leaves him full for days. Soft and delicate touches that crescendo into passion personified pluck at the strings of his heart in the late hours. The feeling of his arms around your waist as you sleep provides an indomitable security. Your even breaths fan against his collarbone like a lullaby, easing him to sleep. Then, when he wakes, you're still there, greeting him like a songbird.

You are his muse, his life, and everything more.

Jihoon understands now why so many of history's greatest ballads are written for lovers. Because the human language is a fickle thing. Always changing, never quite perfect, unsatisfactory in the eyes of man. Music lives on for centuries beyond their composers. It is, by all definitions of the word, immortal. There will always be someone to enjoy its tune and pass it down for years to come.

A song is but a time capsule of the memories that brought it to life. And Jihoon is not a man selfish enough to deny future generations of your beauty. He would write a song a day if it meant cementing your memory in history.

If only he could find the words.

"Are you ready?" Seungcheol's deep voice pierces through the thin silence.

"Not at all." Jihoon inhales as deeply as he can in his suit that feels one away thread from being too tight, then exhales slowly. The parchment with his vows crinkles and folds at the bend between his fingers.

The words in his palm are no soliloquy, but his heart bled them with every ounce of love he could muster through shaky hands. And the gold band on his finger is a gentle reminder he has a lifetime to spend writing ballads in your honor. There are only two words he needs to worry about right now.

I do.

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lxnarmoons · 6 months ago

Text

imagining your relationship with ateez!

a/n: i apologize this is so long..... i like to imagine!! i hope you enjoy :3

KIM HONGJOONG→ - this man will write you love songs - ballads, raps, hiphop, yada yada, he'll write songs about you in his freetime - you're on his mind 24/7 so he expresses his ideas with his writing! - depending on your native language, he'll learn it just for you. i def can see him wanting to learn every little thing about you because he loves you - he'll paint your nails for you :D - you once told him you were interested in starting fashion, so he began designing clothes with you - watching him work is amazing, he's kind of a workaholic - when hongjoong is exhausted from working in the studio, you'll sit with him, either sitting in his lap or just being there with him - your presence seems to wipe all the stress off of him - he loves compliments but gets so flustered when you compliment him back - "you're so cute, y/n..." "you're cuter, joongie!" "ohmygody/nstopit" - music brought you two together and it'll keep you two bonded - after he's done working on a few songs, he'll take you to the recording studio so you both can make demos for them!

PARK SEONGHWA→ - seonghwa is lowkey the prince of your dreams. - i know i know i KNOW if you're having a bad day, he'll hold you tight and sing to you, maybe your favorite songs - forehead kisses, making sure you're alright - i feel like out of all the members, he knows how to listen and comfort you - he will do anything that makes you happy. trust me. - "hi, lovey!" he is such a lovey-dovey man.... - bro is HEAD OVER HEELS in love with you!!! and isn't afraid to show it!!!!! - i know he's a sucker for when you call him "hwa," it makes him feel giggly or osmething - if seonghwa's away on tour, he always makes it a priority to call you every night - "dude, not right now, i'm trying to call y/n..." - he just wants to hear your voice, it helps him fall asleep.... you're just so comforting to him - tbh i see him as a little shy when he's with you because he sees you as this really really cool person - especially in front of the other members and they like to tease him - but (I WOULD HOPE) you're really sweet and always know how to make him feel better!

JEONG YUNHO→ - do dog cafes exist? because if so, that would be where you and him left - yunho would LITERALLY wake you up by singing that one song uhhh what's it called - "you are my sunshine / my only sunshine" idk - because yunho is so damn tall, he's kinda like your cuddle buddy - literally he will trap you in his chest while you two are together (big broad chest) - he's soft and gentle; head pats, small kisses everywhere and anywhere - maybe more likely on your neck??/ if that makes you uncomfy, he loves kissing your knuckles - OMG and that cringey thing like kissing your knuckles everytime he sees you - "good morning, princess" - princess treatment princess treatment princess treatment all from mr. jeong yunho!! - mingi finds it incredibly cringey but it's so funny.... he tells yunho to shut up but it never works in the end because yunho will simply kiss your lips to be quiet while you laugh - he loves pda and isn't afraid to show you off to the other members :) always will make you known, no matter what - "guys, this is my partner, y/n. say hi!"

KANG YEOSANG→ - depending on if you like to talk or not, you and yeosang will always be a pair, he listens to you and you listen to him :3 - he's also a little oblivious but it's kind of funny n cute - HELP he's def the most overprotective in terms of your safety - "Y/N, LOVE, I SWEAR-- DO NOT EAT THAT." - you and yeo would be the dumb/dumber duo (IM SORRY THIS IS JUST HOW I THINK OF IT) - you two can be roblox buddies!! - blind leading the blind.... - he likes to run his hands through your hair, maybe braid it (probably really badly.) - he will force you to watch the goofiest cartoons ever. - "y/n-y/n-y/n-y/n-y/n i wanna watch my little pony" or something (mlp is so good) 😭 - rainy day dates!!! - he def has the most atrocious .5s of you in his camera roll.... and vice versa - he's usually really quiet with you.... most of the time it'll just be you and him listening to music - yeosang is your biggest fan boy!! - profession or not, he'll always be cheering you on - "you're doing so good, baby!" and "i love you sososososo much"

CHOI SAN→ - babe. trust me. babe. - he likes to call you babe no matter the time, setting, blah blah blah. he over uses it so much that the members begin to like gag.... - babe and baby !! the other members dont mind baby as much but wooyoung will kick his balls if he says it too much - he loves hand placement. hand on the waist, hand on thighs, hands on butt COUGH COUGH COUGH - san always strives for your comfort! hes the kinda guy who knows what you like and dont like, so when he sees you're uncomfy, it's like a zap and boom- - "baby, you okay?" and if you aren't, "let's get outta here. it's not important." - he could be in the most important meeting of your life and would be more concerned about you!! - imagine late nights with san: romance, horror, comedy movies, whatever they might be, he just wants to stay up late - after the movie's over, you'll either watch another one or you'll simply talk about everything and nothing - cuddles. head on his chest, both of you maybe scrolling on your phones, sorta ignoring each other but enjoying each other's presence - he's very overprotective.... like touch her wrong and i'll beat u up idk - like yeosang, he likes rainy days. dates will involve just watching the rain and giggling stupidly

SONG MINGI→ - NOW IMAGINE THIS MAN MAKING YOU BREAKFAST IN BED - stumbling out of the kitchen in the morning, seeing mingi in the kitchen with his smile - "hi bubba, you hungry?" - I CAN SEE HIM AS BUBBA BECAUSE LIKE he thinks its funny - (me personally) calling him bubba back and pinching his cheeks which makes him giggle - mingi's definitely likes to keep your relationship more private - it'd probably be out there but i feel like he mostly keeps your activities to yourselves (unlike wooyoung.....) - he likes to press his forehead to yours and hold you close to him, mostly because he feels the connection... he likes listening to your heartbeat - so he likes laying on your chest!! he's often dozing off there..... - mingi likes to tease you a lot but always knows your limits, making sure that he doesn't cross any boundaries and accidentally hurting you - IF you have any sort of trauma and/or bad experiences in the past, he likes to listen and just let you vent - when he's writing songs for ateez, he likes to take you with him on the journey - especially if he's recording any new demos!! he'll take you to the recording studio, like hongjoong!!

JUNG WOOYOUNG→ - jung wooyoung is the goddamn most obnoxious person ever - like san, he likes to make it known that you n him are a thing, just not in that overprotective way - arm around your waist or shoulders, yapping to whoever - "hey guys have you met my lovely lovely partner...." - i personally don't see him as a nick/petname kinda guy but if i haddd to guess i would say probably one of those really cringey ones like cupcake..... oh he would def text like that - "hi cupcake" "open your door pls" LMAO - but most of the time he uses your name because he likes it ! - "Y-NNNNN!!" - i see him as a very good listener and somehow always giving the best advice when you need it - he loves spooning you because he gets worried you'd just vanish (idk i see it) but would lowk hold u tightly 😭 - one time he tried to cook for you but ended up setting the ateez stove on fire (hongjoong beat his ass) he wouldn't stop pouting so you forced him to cuddle!!! - yap sessions 24/7, especially if you like to yap - it'd be going back and forth LOL - he also learned how to braid hair for you!! depending if youre fem, masc, or anything else, he likes to braid hair and learned especially for you :)

CHOI JONGHO→ - i just know this man would call you honey - maybe even sweetie but i feel like he would call you honey more - "sweetie, have you eaten today?" jsjgdljklgjksdLJJLKGSADLJ - he would definitely be shy about using it in public, he's not too big on pda, but i think he would warm up to calling you honey/sweetie in front of the others - they lowk tease him and he gets flustered (what a cutueiiee) - even though he might not like touching, i have a feeling he would like cuddling in private - he loves those moments between just you and him - genuinely i can see his favorite date being the photobooths..... like imagine putting bear ears on him and that gummy smile of his jklldsgds :c - he loves to see you smile and laugh, so even if he despises the ears or whatever accessories you force on him, he can't help but laugh along because he loves to see you happy - if you're sad, he'll do all this goofy stuff just to make you smile - jongho, like all members, is constantly making sure you're okay, like "how did you sleep?" n "are you feeling okay?" - GENTLEMANnnNNN - karaoke nights are just filled with him singing you love songs - help i cant remember if he likes to cook but if he does he would cook (like mingi!!) - he likes forehead kisses. case closed.

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lis-likes-fics · 9 months ago

Text

Poison

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x district!Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon, swearing, post-ballad, mentions of killing and death, violence, technically prostitution, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, sadistic tendencies, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coriolanus snow is NOT a good person. A/N: I started this a bit ago but writer's block hits hard. Reader did not remember who the enemy was...but she also kinda did. ANYWAy, I wrote this based around a song from Hazbin Hotel called Poison. All credit for the song goes to Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

PART ONE: The Deal

The knocks which echo off the walls of your house are loud, firm, assertive. You jump at the sound, watching the door like it would fly off its hinges. For far too long, you stare at the door, debating whether or not you should open it.

Who could it be? You don't get many visitors… You don't get visitors.

You stand slowly, the hairs along your arms and the back of your neck on edge. You swear that you can feel your hands shaking. You hold your breath just so you can actually hear what's going on around you.

Another firm knock is given, and you snap out of your haze.

Your feet carry you across the length of the living room. Your fingers brush the cold knob of the door, and you hesitate before pulling it open, just enough to peek through the crack to see who could possibly be visiting you.

Your eyes widen and you fight the urge to step back, both of pure shock and a modicum of fear. “Mr. Snow.”

The sight of Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your door was not one you ever thought you'd see. There are two Peacekeepers behind him, holding their guns tight in offense against you.

You clear your throat, looking upon his expensive suit, his white-blonde hair, the single rose in his breast pocket. You force yourself to look him in the eye, afraid to antagonize him and risk any violence, before remembering who he was. He wouldn't get violent, but you would pay for it if you angered him.

He smiles when you finally meet his gaze, but he doesn't bother to tilt his chin down to level it. “Hello,” he greets politely.

You straighten your posture slightly, opening the door a bit more out of obligation more than a desire to welcome him in. Seeing that he is the man who designed the Games that put you through hell, you would rather keep him out.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, keeping your voice as non-confrontational as possible. “Sir.”

He shrugs, pulling his hands from the pocket of his jacket and holding them behind his back. He almost seems taller this way.

“Checking up on our latest Victor,” he smiles. He motions toward your living room, “May I come in?”

You don't have much of a choice now. With a sigh, you take a reluctant step to the side and grant his invitation. When he takes his first step forward and the Peacekeepers begin to move, he stops immediately and holds up a hand. They stand firmly in their place. Snow turns back to you, smiles, and then walks inside.

He takes the time to examine the place before he ever speaks, and you close the door behind him to shut the grunts out. Snow clasps his hands behind his back once more and glances around the room like it's speaking to him. He nods slowly, humming to himself.

“How are you?” he finally asks after you've both spent far too long in uncomfortable silence. “How is the life of a champion suiting you?”

You try not to scoff, bowing your head and crossing your arms over your chest, making yourself as small as you feel.

“Well enough, I guess,” you mumble.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “You guess?” he wonders, raising a curious brow.

You clench your jaw once, “Mr. Snow respectfully, why are you here?”

He shrugs. “As I said…checking on our Victor.”

You hum. “And you do this with all your Victors?”

The corner of his lip kicks, barely perceptible if you aren't paying attention. But you are. It would cost you a lot not to pay attention.

“That's the routine,” he says. His eyes wander around the room once more, falling back on you with a cold expression. His eyes are like frost, and you shudder at the sight of them. He tilts his head.

“You don't seem quite happy with your turnout,” he suggests, his eyes narrowing slightly in a questioning manner. You feel like your blood has just run cold. The anxiety seeps into your skin. “Why is that?”

You clench your jaw nervously, clearing your throat as you shrug. You tear your eyes away from him for just a moment and force yourself to look back immediately after.

Your voice is small and your attempt at lying fails because of it. “Why wouldn't I be happy?” you ask. “I have…” You glance around, trying to find something to point out before you seem too suspicious—uselessly, you already know you've been caught red-handed. “I have...a new house and—and prize money. And fans, apparently.”

You try not to be too disgusted by that—fans gained with the useless slaughter of children. A few months you've been out of that arena. And you still see the faces of all those children in your head wherever you go, the sounds of regret and their deaths deafened by the screaming cheers of the mindless crowd that celebrated you for it.

“I'm…” you take a breath, “all set.”

He doesn't believe you. Why would he?

“Yet you've barely moved in,” he points out, making a small circle in the place where he stands. He holds his arms out, as if to emphasize his point. “No pictures, little to no personal belongings. This house looks exactly as it did when you first moved in.��

You furrow your brows, tilting your head slightly. “You know what it looked like?” you question, a gentle and hopefully empty challenge.

He raises a brow. “I was the one who approved everything here. For your comfort, of course.”

Ah.

“No one lives here with you?” he wonders.

You shake your head tentatively. “No one to live with.”

His brows raise slightly. “No family? Friends?”

You clear your throat and shake your head once more.

He hums. “A little lonely, don't you think?”

You shrug, your arms crossing tighter over your chest as you turn slightly away. “I'm used to being alone.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “That's quite sad.”

You swallow thickly. “Doesn't matter to me.”

“Here you are all alone in your little District 7,” he says. The way he looks at you, his predatory gaze, it makes you feel so small. But his voice is soft, not as mocking as it should sound compared to his diction. “No friends, no family, and no care about the way it all is.”

You want him to leave, leave you alone to your loneliness, your quiet misery. If he is just going to stand there and call you an outcast, you don't see any reason that he should stay.

“Yeah. Your point?” You don't mean to sound so hostile but you couldn't help it.

He seems to smirk. “How would you like to change that?”

You could have gotten whiplash. You blink rapidly, licking your lip as you try to figure out if you heard him correctly. “What?” you ask.

“How would you like to change that?” So you had heard him right. “Be a little less lonely, You'd have money, friends, all of your needs would be taken care of.”

You don't trust him. Why should you? Why would Coriolanus Snow offer you all of this? Comfort and stability, a life of luxury?

At what cost?

“And you're offering this to me, why?” Attempting a little boldness, you uncross your arms and straighten your spine a bit. “What did I do? I mean…” you scoff, “I won, sure, but only by the skin of my teeth. And I'm sure you don't go around offering this to all your other Victors. What's so special about me, huh?”

There's a long silence where he just…stares at you. His face is completely unreadable, devoid of any type of emotion as he watches your face too closely.

Then a smile begins to curl his lips and he tilts his chin up just a slight. “You're right,” he says simply. Then his eyes look you up and down. “Truth is, I lied.”

You don't like the change in demeanor. It's a different kind of superiority than the one he displayed before. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying not to lose your confidence, though your voice does become a little quieter. “So what do you want? Why are you here?”

He tilts his head and steps toward you. You take an instinctive step back. “You're special,” he says. You scoff but he just shakes his head. “I can feel it. I wasn't lying about my offer. I came to give you more than…” he looks around and sighs, “an empty house with no pictures on the walls. As I said…all your needs would be taken care of.” The smallest shrug raises his shoulders. “With a price.”

There it is.

Again, you scoff. You cross your arms and roll your eyes and plop down on the couch. “Have I not paid enough?”

He walks toward you, and suddenly you regret putting yourself in such a physically vulnerable situation. “You're right,” he hums. “You have. I'm not asking much. Truth is…all I need is an assistant.”

You furrow your brow. “And you're choosing someone from District instead of Capitol?”

He takes a slow breath in, shrugging. “You suit my interests. Capitol does not.”

“So I have to, what, follow you around? Take orders from you?” You lick your lip. “And I get what exactly?”

He takes his hands from his pockets. “Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. Anything you could ever need or want.” He stops a moment, thinking to himself with a light hum. “You'd have to sign a contract, of course.”

You sigh, a million thoughts rushing through your head as you actually consider his offer. This is the man who literally designed your hell. He is one of the very people who forced you to fight for survival, to kill for it. For months, you've lived with nightmares full of slaughter and regret.

But for years, you've lived with isolation and solitude. He would give you everything. Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. A chance to start over, a chance to be a little less lonely.

But you are all too aware of the chance that this could all blow up in your face. This is Coriolanus Snow. He's not to be trusted, surely.

“And if I say no?”

He stands still for a moment, so still you wonder if he'd frozen in time. You have to urge yourself to hold his gaze. You can't seem afraid of him, you just can't.

Finally, Snow lets out a long sigh. He steps close, before turning and sitting next to you on the couch. He leans back, getting comfortable as he crosses his legs and sets his hands in his lap.

“Then you stay here,” he says plainly, shrugging before letting his gaze wander around the living room of this hollow home. “In this big…empty house.”

This big empty house. Your grand solitude.

Knowing the things you know now, you wish you could say that you would go back and change your decision. You wish you could say you'd go back and choose your loneliness over the dark nights you'd sucked yourself into.

You made a deal with the Devil. And you know that if you had the choice…you'd do it again.

I'm not above a love to cash in…

PART TWO: Paradise

A week later, you found yourself standing in the Capitol, in Coriolanus Snow’s office, with a contract and a pen in front of you. You scanned over the words, took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and signed your name on the dotted line at the bottom.

Snow gave you a large smile and sent an escort to show you to your new living quarters. In his house. Down the hall from his room.

And for the next couple of weeks, you've been to two separate welcome parties, two other Capitol parties, and six meetings as Snow’s new assistant. You've handled messages, documents, scheduling, and a variety of appointed tasks that have put you in positions so far above so many Capitol members, you briefly wonder if you've signed into a scam.

At first, there was…resistance among the people. There were insults that you were an animal, a bottom feeder, a whore, a parasite. But every person who had dared to insult you had gone missing the next day. No one made any questions, or remarks, after so many people mysteriously disappeared.

And, soon, you got comfortable. Because Snow held up his end of the bargain. You were comfortable, wealthy, made some friends who had taken a moment to get used to you (you suspect they're trying to be nice to you to earn favor from Snow, but at least you aren't being insulted anymore). You don't go hungry every night, you always have fresh clothes. Sure, your schedule was a bit stressful, but that was an adjustment that could be made. Asking for more would be selfish—and insane, what more could you want?

You were, on the levels that counted…happy, content.

In just a few weeks, you had settled in like you belonged. Well…maybe not to that extent, but the work became easy and the needless parties were much appreciated.

When someone knocks on your door, you're pulling your robe over your body as you walk over to answer it. One of the servants stands on the other side, looking tired from the day's work.

“Yes, Charlotta?”

“Mr. Snow has requested your presence in his study, ma'am,” she says.

You glance behind you at the clock in your room. “Now? It's so late.” You hum, “Alright, thank you. Go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

She nods thankfully and turns away. You're quick to pull your slippers on, pulling your robe tight around your nightgown before rushing down the hall. You don't want to be late to him.

You reach his door down the hall, taking in a breath and raising your fist. Your knuckles meet the door four times.

“Come in,” His muffled reply comes.

You turn the knob, opening the door. Peaking into the room, you slowly walk inside, standing by the door. “You called?” you speak gently.

Snow is slouched over his desk, his pen scrawling away at a file of papers in front of him. “I did,” he nods. There's a moment of silence between you as he finishes up the last part of his work.

He sets his pen down and sits up, his back straight as he sets his clasped hand over his lap and turns his full attention to you. “I have an urgent matter I need you to take care of.”

You close the door behind you, establishing some privacy. It must be important if he's asking you this late. He probably needs you to run some important documents to someone, or schedule another meeting with one of the ambassadors that came to one of his meetings today.

“Yes, sir?” you ask.

“Come here,” he says, making a come hither movement with his fingers. Clasping your hands behind your back, you walk toward his desk and stop in front of him. He clarifies, “Behind the desk.”

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you hesitate. You begin to take your first step, pause, and then make your way behind the desk.

He turns his chair as you come to stand in front of him, your hands held tightly in front of you. He sits there, staring up at you as his eyes rake over your body.

You shift from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the way he's looking at you. And again…silence.

“Get on your knees.”

All the heat escapes your body at the same time. A chill rushes up your spine. And once the initial shock has dissipated, a fire spreads across your flesh and you're burning up. You feel like your hands have begun shaking, so you shift them behind your back.

You have to find your voice again, clearing your throat timidly. “Sir?” you nearly stutter, clearing your throat again.

He shakes his head, amused by the timid look on your face. “I didn't stutter.”

You don't move, shocked to stillness. Snow sighs, standing to his feet and moving in front of you. He holds his chin up, looking down his nose at you to emphasize his superiority. You shrink underneath him.

“You're my assistant. You signed a contract,” he explains. “I take care of your needs, you take care of mine. No matter the request.”

You really should have read the fine print.

“Right now,” he continues, raising a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek. Your eyes flutter lightly at the contact, holding your breath, afraid to breathe wrong and upset him. “My needs are for you to get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use. Then I'll do the same for you.”

Another shudder rushes through your spine. He pretends not to notice, but his smirk does deepen. Your lips part as you try to speak, unsure of what you'll say. “I…”

He drops his hand, lifting a brow expectantly. “Is there a problem?”

You clear your throat one more time, shaking your head and glancing away from his eyes, his intense, cutting blue eyes. “No, sir.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You glance up at him. His hand reaches up and grasps your chin. In the next moment, he's pulling you in as his lips crash down against yours. It's a possessive kiss, deep and devouring—controlling.

You have no choice but to kiss him back, letting your hands fall at your sides and lifting them up to his arms. You don't know where you're supposed to put them.

Just as you're leaning into the kiss, he pulls away from you and takes a step back. His lips, still parted and smiling, are wicked. He lowers himself into his seat, his legs wide open and his hands clasped in front of him. “As you were.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Taking an unsteady step forward, you slowly kneel to the floor. You hold your breath, avoiding his gaze as your shaky hands reach for his belt.

You undo it, pulling open his button and unzipping his pants. Exhaling, you nervously dip your hand into his pants and feel the warmth of his length against the pad of your fingers. You shudder, braving him as you pull him out of his pants.

And he doesn't disappoint.

Your eyes widen and you don't feel like it's real as you hold him in one hand. He's long with a nice enough girth that he will stretch you a bit. You curse under your breath, licking your lips as you glance up at Snow.

He smiles, watching you closely. Suddenly you feel naked. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, not cruelly.

You tear your gaze away from him, looking back down at the pink tip of his cock. You let your lips part and let your tongue fall to the edge of your lip…

The soft red light of Coryo’s lamp glows dimly on your skin as his strong hand cards through your hair, balling into a fist to grip your locks at his own need. Your moans stutter deep in your throat where his cock sits, the tears spring to your eyes.

His tongue plunges inside of you, licking the honey from your folds as you arch your back and moan his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans into you at the sting of his scalp from your insistent grasp.

His lips press kisses to your back as you white-knuckle the headboard of his bed. His fingers dig into your hips, creating crescents in your flesh that crater your skin. He fucks you in long, hard strokes of his cock. His teeth are bared like a beast, his hair falls over his forehead, his groans are rough with lust.

The crashing of waves drowns you, explosions are set off deep within your body. His liquor fills your mouth, your throat, your belly. It's warm and sating, and he pulls you close to make sure you never stray from his hold.

And through the night, his arms never leave your body, his claws never leave your flesh…

It wasn't hard to get cocky after that. The Capitol was lavish, and it had a way of turning people to bathe in the lap of luxury. You slowly began to learn what kind of position you truly held here, and after months of being high-seated in the Capitol, you had begun to sink into your role.

Snow is the Head Gamemaker, you are his assistant. Everyone had to listen to you if they wanted to make it back home safe to their families. With a whisper in your boss’ ear, you could ensure no one ever spoke badly about you again.

Not that you have exercised that power yet, but you could. And Snow was happy to oblige.

After that first night in his room, your lips around his cock, his hand tangled in your hair, the pleasure didn't end. No, it's normal to find yourself tangled in his sheets, to find your head buried between his thighs (or vice versa), to have his name falling from your lips like you were praying to the gods that men had killed years and years ago.

You've become addicted to the taste of Snow, the smell of Snow, the feeling of Snow. It's an easy thing to overdose on.

Should you have been more careful?

Yes. Yes, you should have.

But Snow is an easy thing to get high on.

Katri spots you through the luscious crowd of one of the Capitol’s many needless parties with ease. Surrounded by nobles and benefactors, you brought your flute of champagne to your lips with a smile. A giggle erupts from your throat at one of the party-goers’ jokes—one that you didn't find particularly funny, but you've gotten really good at pretending.

Katri walks up to you, a tray of champagne in hand as she does. “Ma'am?” You turn toward her, smiling and grabbing a fresh flute from her tray with thanks. She clears her throat, “Mr. Snow has requested your presence.”

You hum gratefully. “Alright, I'll be there in a moment.”

You begin to turn around again but she insists. “He says it's urgent. He wants you immediately.”

Ah, then he's pent up. You wave a hand dismissively, sticking to your response. “Well, tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.” She gives you a hesitant look, and you smile. “He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it. Okay?”

She scoffs lightly, turning away. “Whatever you say.”

The anxiety in the air around her is palpable with the fact that she would have to return this news to Snow. She finds him in the same place she left him, surrounded by diplomats with his own—now empty—flute of champagne.

As she approaches him, he smiles politely. “Where is my little assistant?” he asks.

Katri clears her throat as she switches his glass out for a fresh one. “She said she'll be here in a moment.”

The shift in his attitude is so slight, it's easy to miss. But she notices the slight clench of his jaw, the faintest clutch of his fingers. “Did she now?” he questions, his head tilting a bit to the side.

She nods slowly, switching her tray to her other hand. “Her exact words were…” She clears her throat once more, not wanting to recite your words back to him. You must have been out of your mind. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.’ ”

He seems to know there's more to it because he bids her to continue. Her eyes glance away from him as she does. “She said, ‘He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’”

She can tell there's something else he wants to say but chooses not to as his smile becomes tight. “Thank you,” he says simply, politely.

She nods. “Yes, sir.” She walks away.

PART THREE: Reality

You smile a bit when you feel Coryo’s hand land on the side of your arm, grazing up the length of it to reach your shoulder. You look up at him, immediately noticing the stiffness of his grin.

I shoulda guessed that this would happen…

“Coryo,” you greet with a smile. He nods toward the people surrounding you, greeting them politely. He doesn't look at you, just begins to lead you away from them as he ducks his head nearer to your ear.

“My office.” His words are firm, with no room to refuse.

Still, like a fool, you say, “In a moment please? I–”

His smile does not falter, but his voice is a demand as he speaks through his teeth. His grip on your shoulder becomes tight. “Now.”

You clear your throat, your smile still intact but not as professionally kept as his own. You nod once, “Yes, sir.”

He walks away, but not in the direction of his office. You watch him leave, clearing your throat discreetly and dismissing yourself from those who try to speak to you. You go straight to his office, not daring to refuse him again.

When you're there, you find yourself pacing the length of the room uneasily, waiting for him to join you. But he doesn't join you, not immediately. He makes you wait, he makes you stir. You stew in your own anxieties, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to tell him to wait.

Him.

Coriolanus Snow.

He interrupts your thoughts ten minutes later—you know, you counted—opening the door and shutting it gently behind him. He doesn't meet your gaze as he walks past you dismissively. He rounds his desk, pulling open a drawer that holds his personal scotch.

In silence, he pours himself a glass. In silence, he takes a sip. In silence, he savors the taste on his tongue and refuses to look your way for even a second.

You bow your head as you wait for him to say something, anything.

And when he does speak, you suddenly wish he hadn't.

“You're ‘busy’?” he questions.

“Sir?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He smiles, turning to finally look at you. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’ ” He licks his bottom lip, scoffing as he shakes his head at your audacity. “You let those words come out of your mouth?”

You clear your throat as quietly as possible. “I…didn't think it was a big deal… I was on my way.”

He stares at you, unblinking. Then he takes another sip of his drink and sets it down again. He walks from behind his desk, rounding to the front and leaning against it.

“Do you think you're special or something?” He furrows his brow, as though he's confused. You want to sink into the floor, to let the world swallow you whole, to disappear. “What, because I fuck you, you can talk to me any way you want?”

He puts venom behind the word, enough force to ensure you felt it. You swallow thickly, wanting to step away but knowing that if you did that, you would only make matters worse.

“Look at me,” he demands. And immediately, you obey.

You speak quickly, trying to fix your mistake before it can get worse. “Coryo, I'm sorry. I–”

“You're not special,” he cuts you off, advancing toward you. He grabs your wrist, pulling it up sharp and pulling you close to his face, inches away. You can feel his breath on your cheeks. “I own you. You belong to me.” His voice is low, dangerous.

But you've still got some pride left over. And that would be your downfall…

“I don't ‘belong’ to an–”

“You're mine!” he exclaims, though he doesn't shout. There's force behind his words, and his voice raises to a more stern, more possessive growl as he shoves you back. You stumble to the floor, grunting from the pain that shoots up your arm from landing on your elbow. You look up at him, your eyes wide with fear.

I shoulda known it when I looked in your red hot eyes…

“That's what it says in your contract, or do you not remember?” He takes a step closer, standing over you. His voice is low and dangerous, but he has no use for yelling anymore as he speaks to you. “You take care of all my needs—no protests, no complaints. Those words say that you do whatever I want, whenever I want it, however I want it. And if you complain, I take away everything you know, drop you back in your sad little district, and put your name back in the raffle one hundred times over.”

You should have known it from the beginning. A deal so good had to come with a hell of a lot of strings. From the very beginning, he had been lying to you with the idea of a shiny new life.

Spewing all your red hot lies…

He stares at you, his jaw clenched, his breath slowing to a gentler seethe. He lifts his chin, collecting himself as he takes a steadying breath. He kneels in front of you, resting his elbow on his knee.

His voice is a whisper. “You belong to me.” His tone is final, definite. “If I say speak, you say?”

Your breath trembles with a mix of anger and fear as you look up at him, tears threatening to well in your eyes but refusing to breach the surface and give him the satisfaction. Your lips part, though you hardly give yourself space to speak.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“If I say jump, you say?”

“Yes, Coryo.”

His hand wraps around your throat, pulling you forward enough so that your faces are once again only inches apart. “And if I say open your mouth, you get on your knees and drop your jaw.”

You stare at him, your gaze so close to blurring as you sigh, choked up from his suddenly poor treatment of you. “Yes, Coryo.”

The smallest smirk creeps over his lips and threatens the rest of your already weak composure. He pulls you in and his lips press hungrily against yours. It's all teeth and tongue, biting your bottom lip and licking the top of your mouth. You want to resist, but you can't. His touch, however wrong, however killing, is addictive.

When he pulls away from your lips, you nearly seek him out, releasing a breath like he'd filled your lungs with smoke. Your skin picks with red hot spite at the tiny moan that slips through your lips.

He holds your throat a little tighter, not enough to stop your breath but enough to make the tips of your ears tingle. Enough to make the heat in your core grow.

“I own you,” he whispers. “You belong to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips part and shallow breaths pass pathetically through them before you finally respond, a whisper of your own. “Yes, Coryo.”

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes…Coryo.”

His grip loosens. “Good.”

He lets you go, standing to his full height once more as you take in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as your hand flies to your throat.

You watch his hands find his belt, undoing it with deft hands. “Now open your mouth,” he commands.

You swallow thickly, slowly adjusting yourself to sit on your knees. You glance away as you drop your jaw and stick your tongue out over your teeth.

“Look me in the eyes.”

You do, immediately. His blue eyes, hiding so many lies behind them that they brim with color. “Good girl.”

Your jaw ticks as you raise your hands to pull his cock from his pants, already hard from the power he holds over you.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself.

You wrap your lips around the tip, laving your tongue against the head before slipping it underneath him. Stroking the rest of you, you take special care in providing his pleasure as you let your lips suckle around him.

Up and down his length, you go, giving him your hot, wet mouth as he likes it—as he needs it. His hand tangles in your hair and grips it tight, guiding you just a bit to take him deeper down your throat. And you do. You take him as far as he'll go, keeping the gag awaiting at bay as you swallow around him.

I know you're poison. You're feeding me poison.

And when you think you've gone far enough, he holds you down and shoves the rest of him farther inside. Your lungs are tight, they burn with the lack of air. But you just hold onto his thighs and hope he grants you enough mercy for breath.

And when he pulls out enough for you to snatch that merciful breath, you can taste his precum on your tongue. And you waste no time in taking him again, up and down and up and down. Just like he likes it—just like he needs it.

He curses under his breath, holding you tighter as his desperation grows and grows. “Fuck, just like that,” he huffs, fighting to keep his eyes open as your tongue caresses the vein along the bottom of his cock.

His lips part, his eyes shut. He shoves you farther down on his cock as your good work pushes him over the edge. The warmth fills your mouth, down your throat in generous amounts of pent up stress. And you drink it up. Every drop. Like liquor.

Addicted to this feeling I can't help but swallow up…

You catch your breath as he collects himself once more, his chest heavy with the lust simmering down in his belly. He tucks himself away, back into his pants. And as he watches you, you lick your lips free of his poison.

He smiles wickedly, cupping your chin in his hand. “Good girl,” he praises again. You stare at him and say nothing else. He inhales, exhales, and straightens his back. “Come. We have a party to re-attend.”

You stand on unsteady feet, wiping your face clean just to ensure you aren't going back to the party with Snow’s cum on your lips.

He pulls his arm around your waist and leads you back.

At the first sight of you and Snow, the vultures swarm. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming back down,” one of them jokes.

Snow smiles, “Of course not. I just had some business to take care of. Isn't that right?” He turns to you expectantly.

You let your smile widen across your lips as you nod. “Yes, Coryo,” you say.

You can see the wicked beast glint happily in his eyes. Pleased, he turns away from you again to look at his hand, realizing it lacks the champagne flutes each of his guests hold in their hands. He smiles at you once more.

“Would you mind getting drinks for me and my guests?” he requests.

You avoid the clench of your jaw that you long to grant him, instead deciding to pull your smile into a wider grin and nod.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Thank you,” he grins. He lifts a crooked finger to the underside of your chin, tapping it lightly. “And cheer up… It's a party.”

You give him a tight smile and walk away in the direction of the kitchens, which is currently bustling with people making another batch of the well-loved appetizers and refilling more glasses for the guests.

You pass by the champagne entirely to get to the, quite large, liquor cabinet. You pour yourself a hefty glass of scotch and gulp it down, braving the burn of your throat as you finish it with a sigh.

You replace the scotch, claim a tray, and walk out with the requested beverages. You hand them to Snow and his guest, a glorified waitress.

Taking your own flute, you hand the tray to a passing server and let the effects of the scotch sink into your bones.

You wouldn't call the rest of the night a blur, especially because you are completely aware of what was happening as you continued to mingle with the guests. You kept a hold of your wobbling tongue, and you remained civil and polite. Snow could tell there was something off—and of course he knew what it was—but you hadn't embarrassed him yet, so he let it slide.

And that night, when the guests took their leave and the party came to a close, you met Snow in his bedroom once more so he could more thoroughly remind you of who you belonged to.

And like the addict you are, you happily obliged.

PART FOUR: Lap Dog

You made sure not to forget your place again.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and you were still seated at Snow's right hand as he climbed the ladder, dragging you along through the journey. You did everything for him, anything for him. That was your job. Whatever he asks of you is considered done as soon as the request passes his lips. Whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. No matter what.

You sold your soul to the Devil, and you were addicted to the madness of your deal.

“I need you to give this to Snow.”

You're stopped in the middle of the hall by some woman with a stack of files in her arms. She's got a smug face, and you immediately don't like her as she grabs the file at the top of her stack and thrusts it out toward you.

You sigh, taking it as you begin to flip it open. “What is it?”

She pinches the top corner closed, shaking her head. “It's not your business to know, is it?”

You scoff, smiling as you tilt your chin up. The same way Snow does when he wants to stress his rank over another person's head. “Actually,” you wave her hand away from you, “as President Snow's assistant, it is my job to know anything and everything about what goes to and from his desk.” You take a step toward her, looking down on her just as he would. “So I ask again, what is it?”

There's a long pause as she stares at you, her eyes dark with the hatred and prejudice that bleeds from her gaze. Capitol taking orders from District? It's unheard of…

You would think, since you've been here so long, that they'd learn that you rank higher than they ever will. They don't have to like you, but whether they like it or not, they have to listen to you.

It wasn't hard to become cocky, but cocky was something you learned. This woman, whoever she was, was born with it. And that was a plague that would be the end of her.

She huffs quietly. “It's the request he made for some documents.” Your brow furrows slightly. A mistake. Now she believes she knows something you don't. Now she believes she has the upper hand. Her tone betrays her. “Something about the Games’ Victors.”

You don't know what this is. You've heard nothing of the sort.

But she keeps saying “something”. You want specifics. Does she not have it? “You don't know?”

“Of course I know,” she lays a delicate hand over her delicate chest. For a moment, you wonder if she's ever had to do any kind of work (you know she hasn't). She wouldn't last a second…

“And I'd elaborate,” she continues, pulling you from your thoughts, “but I, quite frankly, don't want to tell you, and you probably couldn't read it to figure it out for yourself.” Your jaw tenses at her unfounded insult. You don't respond. “I mean, that's why you want me to explain it to you, isn't it?”

I got so good at being untrue.

You sigh forcefully, a long, deep sigh to try and control yourself. “Excuse me?” Does she truly dare to challenge you in such a way?

“You heard me,” she replies, unblinking.

Clearly, she thinks you're an idiot. A stupid, incompetent idiot. You want to take her words and shove them back down her throat. You want to grab her by the hair and drag her around like the dog she seems to think you are.

But you can't. You must remain civil, so the only way you can try to hurt her is through your words.

You don't need trouble with Snow for embarrassing him…

“Ah,” you scoff, lifting your chin again to keep your superiority. “So you're stupid?”

The blatant insult has her clutching her pearls. Obviously, she wasn't expecting that kind of bluntness from you.

You smirk at her reaction, no longer collected. You have the upper hand once more.

“You really think it's a good idea to talk to me like that? Me? President Snow's second hand?” You don't love playing that card, but it's a play that will almost always work for you.

No one would dare object to President Snow.

She hums, trying to seem unphased. “You're right,” she says, “I probably shouldn’t speak to Coriolanus Snow’s little pup like that.” Her face contorts into one of mocking sorrow, her lip jutting out and her brows furrowing. “She might get sad and go tell her master on me.”

Little pup. Little pup.

Flashes of late nights spent in Coryo’s room, nights where his stress gets the better of him and he decides to take it out on you, nights where he spanks you and calls you names and takes you hard and rough, cross behind your eyes. “My dumb little girl, my pathetic little whore, my pitiful little pup.”

And you would let him, you would encourage him. You would moan and writhe and bend to his will. And your fists tighten at the memory. They clench with rage and regret and the desire to be more than an animal.

You aren't an animal, you are a human fucking being.

I got so good at telling you what you wanna hear. I disassociate, disappear.

Baring your teeth and losing composure, you huff. You're seething as you speak. “I am not his pup.”

She chuckles, finally striking a nerve as she lifts her brows. “Aren't you? His little lap dog.” She puts emphasis on each word, ensuring the ‘G’ hurts. She walks toward you, but you don't move. You stand your ground. You aren't scared of her.

You're going to fucking kill her.

Foolishly, she continues on. “You think just because you won the Games and he decided to take pity on you, that gives you any real power?”

You scoff. Pity. He doesn't know the meaning of the word.

“You're his whore,” she spits. It doesn't anger you because it's true, it angers you because no one even knows about that part of your deal, and she's accusing you of being a whore because of who you are.

Her face is inches from yours, her voice trying to be lower, though it's so naturally snooty that it's hard to reach that threatening level. She sounds like a child. And her sneer makes you want to treat her like one.

“You're a fucking slut. Just a little District animal who got lucky.”

Your anger flares. You grit your teeth. You lower your voice, successfully, and nearly growl.

“You wanna say that again?”

She smirks wickedly. “You are a whore.”

You walk toward her. She's standing so close that she is forced to step back with the stutter of her heels scraping the floor.

“You forget,” your lips turn in a venomous smile, fueled by rage and violent tendencies you're trying your best to hold back, “I fucking won the Games. I killed tributes with my bare hands, and you want to challenge me?”

And you see the flash of fear behind her eyes at the reminder, though she tries to hide it. But you know fear. You've felt it slice your flesh, you've used it to slice other's flesh. You know the biting and the tearing and the clawing of fear, and you can see it clear in her eyes even as she tries so hard to hide it.

Being afraid is the smartest thing she's done since she decided to open her mouth.

“You aren't going to do anything,” she says, as a defense more than an accusation, a reassurance for herself more than a taunt for you. “You'll just tuck tail and run to master–”

You're done being civil. You're done rolling over and showing your belly. You're done bowing your head and taking orders.

If they are going to treat you like an animal, you'll behave like one.

And she meets the blunt end of your rage with a fist to the face. Stacks of files smack loudly in a pile on the floor. You clip her cheek with the ring on your finger, and you huff at the pleasure that comes with defending yourself.

Her face whips to the side. It's a full body reaction. She staggers, crying out as her hand flies to her face, unable to take the heat of your violence. She looks back at you, her eyes wide with fear, too much to have room for anger.

You don't give her the chance to make room for it either. You punch her again on the same side, this time letting your fist connect with her brow. And when she stumbles again, you shove her back so she falls to the floor.

The sounds of her pain are loud and evident. But the bliss you gain from them is only so perfect because she deserves it.

And as you straddle her body, you can smell her fear just as well as you can see it. You can taste it like the blood she tastes on her tongue as you hit her again, and again, and again.

“What is going on here?”

You're off of her in an instant—and it's no scramble. You maneuver off of her with ease and scoop up your files once more, straightening your spine as you stand back and join Snow's side with one hand behind your back, bloodied knuckles and all. You sniff, the rueful look on your face taking a moment to dissipate as you replace it with civility.

You are a human being.

You don't look at Coryo’s face. You know it's covered with anger and disappointment. It's worse if he's stone cold. You can salvage this…

The woman rolls over onto her side, holding her nose delicately as she struggles to her feet. Tiny gasps and painful moans slip from her lips. She got what she deserves.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, obviously lying.

Suddenly, you feel like you should have punched her one more time. Because she begins to laugh. It's a bubbling laugh that you're sure is hurting her.

You can't do anything now. Not while Snow is here.

She shakes her head, licking her split lip and wincing through her laugh. Snow finds that more offensive than your empty apology, more offensive than even your savage display of violence.

“What's your name?” he demands.

She straightens up just a bit more. She also doesn't seem to understand the situation because she has a snarky grin on her face that says that she believes she's coming out of here on top. But those odds are not in her favor.

“Ellyn Halper,” she says.

“Ms. Halper.” He watches her, looking her up and down, his eyes strict and cold. He makes her squirm, even as she looks confidently at him. “You're fired.”

The news hits her like a train. She steps back, faltering, the horror crossing her face. “What?” She scoffs, glancing between the two of you as she shakes her head. “She attacked me!”

“And she wouldn't have attacked someone unprovoked,” he raises a brow. You try not to smile at him taking your side—and it's easy, because they talk about you like a misbehaved pet. “She must have had good reason. Clean out your desk and get out of my sight.”

She lingers, disbelief painting her features and mixing with her anger. When she doesn't move, Snow tilts his chin down and glares.

“Now.”

It's here that her rage outweighs her sense. She loses it. “You're going to protect this animal over Capitol?” she yells, pointing at you.

Still riding the high of your violence, you bare your teeth. “I'm not–”

“Quiet,” Snow snaps.

You shut your mouth.

Ellyn shakes her head, her lips twitching. She looks straight at you, sighing. She steps forward, stopped by Snow's warning hand. She leans in, “You're a disgrace.”

Snow can't have such blatant disrespect.

“Pack your bags, Ms. Halper,” he says. “I'm sending you to the districts.” Her horror is palpable. “We'll see who the animal is. I'm sure they would love to get their hands on Capitol.”

Snow doesn't give her any more attention. He turns and walks away, your impending punishment terrifying as you listen to his steps. You huff gently at her, slowly allowing your lips to split into your triumphant grin.

Snow calls your name. Your lips fall. You turn.

“Lap dog,” she spits.

Your jaw ticks. You turn again, and watch her step back. Your lips part, but before any sound can actually breach your lips, Snow calls your name again, firmer this time.

You huff, harder this time, and leave. You try to wipe the sight of that terrible smile on her bloodied face from your memory.

“What was that?”

He's pissed. His jaw ticks as he sets his hands on his hips.

But there's enough anger to go around.

Smacking the files on the desk, just as loudly as before as you jut your finger out towards them in accusation, you counter, “What is this?”

He dismisses you carelessly. “That's my business. Not yours.”

Before he can speak again, you cut him off, speaking quickly and concisely. “In my contract, it says I take care of your needs. It also says that I am your secretary and personal assistant. I handle your accounts, your documents, everything—so that means this is my business.” Stepping close to his desk, you lean forward toward him and lower your voice. “What is this about?”

Instead of answering you, he straightens his back and lifts his chin. With an amused scoff, he smirks lightly. “You actually read your contract.”

You don't appreciate his taunts. You read the full extent of your contract years ago, and you make sure to reread it every month to ensure you've memorized every detail. If he's got you on a tight leash, you need to know how much room you actually have to move.

“Coriolanus,” you huff. You wish you could say you won't say it again, but he'd make you repeat a million times if he felt like it. And you would have to obey. “What is it about?”

He's silent as he thinks to himself, contemplating. How does he answer your question without giving you the power and the luxury of a response?

But it's easy for him to remember that he will always have the power. He will always have the upper hand.

He breathes in, and you watch his lips curve. “The Victors.”

“I heard that,” you say. “What about them?”

His smile grows. The mischief and cunning lights up in his eyes. He places his hands in his pockets, rounding his desk as he leans back on it, crossing his ankles as he does. “This deal between you and I works pretty well, I'd say.”

You clench your jaw, unhappy with where this conversation is leading. You shake your head, “And?”

“And,” he shrugs, “there are and will be plenty more victors out there fit to do the same.”

You lose some of your bravado, your anger and confidence replaced by hesitant disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sometimes you forget that Snow was, in truth, an evil man. Between your nights of passion and unnecessary gifts, it's easy to forget about the monster underneath his façade of fancy suits and beautiful roses.

He circles your body, like predator to prey…as always.

“I make sure people stay interested in the Games. And people like to keep up with our Victors,” he turns toward you suddenly. “I mean, they seem to take plenty of interest in you.”

You shake your head, your voice weak, “Coryo.”

He ignores you, continuing on. “These Victors are interesting. And some are considered to be quite…attractive in some senses.” He stops in front of you, smiling evilly. “A contract here and a signature there–”

“Coryo,” you try again, your voice trembling this time.

“–and these rich cats can have a Victor all to themselves.”

“Coriolanus.”

He stops, watching you expectantly as you try to wrap your head around his vile proposal.

They didn't deserve this. These Victors have already been through so much and he wants to add more grief and misery to their lives?

You were already lost the moment he stepped foot in your house, the moment you signed that contract, the moment you fell to your knees in his office and had your first taste of him. There was no hope for you now.

He'd gotten you addicted a long time ago…

“These are people,” you all but beg, clasping your hands together in hopes of persuading him away from his sadistic plans, “they're human beings. They aren't animals for you to sell.”

He makes a face, smiling wide as he leans in. “They are animals.” You expected this response, but it still hurts for him to say it so indisputably. “And they're for me to do whatever I want with.”

You clench your teeth and watch him turn away again, reclaiming the file and dropping it into a drawer he pulls open. “And besides, they won't be sold indefinitely.” He looks up at you with that sly grin of his. “The Capitol should be able to have their fill…”

You scoff. “Oh, so they're not just your slaves, they're your prostitutes.” You can't believe him, though you know you should.

He’d done it to you. What was stopping him from doing it to the rest?

Hopefully, you.

“They're my pets,” he counters. He leans forward onto his desk. And he's so tall, that he manages to lean in so much that he can see each little fleck of your irises as you stare unblinkingly at him. “Just like you.”

You nod, pursing your lips. “Okay, then I'm your pet.” You lean in as well, this time. You lean in so close that he has no choice but to shift away from you. “Not them.” You lick your lip and round the desk, wanting so desperately for him to hear your voice for once.

You plead, because it's the only thing you can do. Your voice is quiet, desperate, weak. Just the way he likes it.

“Let them go. You do enough to them, they don't deserve this.”

He doesn't hear you. He doesn't care.

“They deserve whatever I decide.”

Your jaw tenses, your thoughts scrambling to figure out a solution. Any solution. You just need to persuade him, to change his mind. This doesn't need to happen.

But his eyes are so cold, so stoney, so lying. There's no sympathy there and there will never be sympathy there. So you try to sway him in the way you know best.

You drop to your knees, skilled and shaky hands grasping his belt as you begin to undo it quickly. “What are you doing?”

The metal clinks as you work at it, pulling it free from the first loop as you begin to take the latch from its adjusted position. “Changing your mind,” you answer plainly. As you loosen the belt, tugging on it to remove it from the loops of his pants. “This is what you want, isn't it? You're just trying to rile me up to get me to do what you want. I'll do it–”

“Get the fuck off me.”

He pushes you away, shoving you onto the floor like you're nothing. And to him, you are. Nothing.

He doesn't seem angry, just annoyed at your audacity… And then he seems amused. His face lifts and he begins to smile. His smile turns to a chuckle, and he shakes his head as he looks down at you, purely amused by your attempt at persuasion.

“Oh, I get it,” he laughs, walking toward you to properly tower over your meek body. “You think that because I fuck you that I actually care about what you want.” He pronounces the F to hurt, punching it while also saying it with such disregard that it truly shows how little it means to him… Nothing.

He kneels down, resting his arm on his knee and watching you with those taunting eyes. “This isn't about you,” he whispers. Though his voice is soft, it cuts like a knife. Your hands tremble as they lift you up.

He spews his poison without restraint. “You are an animal. And yes, you are my lap dog.”

He feigns sympathy and remorse that he isn't capable of. “You think I swooped in earlier and punished that stupid girl because she talked down to you? I punished her because you're mine, and if I let someone get away with disrespecting my things, no one will respect me.”

He spews all his hatred, and you take it all. “I couldn't care less that she called you an animal or a whore or whatever the fuck else because you are.” It's a slap in the face each time as his voice becomes more and more hateful. “You're my pet, and you're my whore. You belong to me.”

So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp.

You stare at him, your face fallen as you seem to learn your lesson for the thousandth time. You're nothing to him. You're just property, and you mean nothing.

He smirks, standing to his full height once more as you remain tossed to the floor. You stare at him, your fight diminished.

“Speak.”

Like a dog.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Obedient.

“Smile.”

It looks like a sneer.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Well-trained.

Your lips part as you open your mouth, dropping your jaw as you've been doing for years.

And though that satisfies him beyond all belief, that satisfaction is all he needs. “Close your mouth.”

Nothing.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Your monotonous tone falls silent as you await his next command, a dog waiting for orders from her master.

He bends down, grasping the front of your shirt in his fist and pulling close. His face is inches from his. You don't fight him, you don't resist in any way. You let him move you as he pleases, staring blankly at him.

He looks about the length of your face. His smile is wholly evil. “Don't forget what you are.”

Quiet, broken, weak is your voice. Just the way he likes it.

“Yes, Coryo.”

He hums, letting you go. “Good girl.”

PART SIX: Addiction

You hear the footsteps coming down the hall and ignore them all the same. Flipping the next page in your book, you sigh gently and pull your legs closer toward you. Just a couple more sentences is all you ask…

Your door opens without a knock, and you aren't surprised. This is his home, you are his pet. Why ask permission for something which belongs to him?

You force yourself to meet Coryo’s gaze, the exhaustion in your eyes clear. He's in the same clothes as before, though his hair is more relaxed and his shirt is looser, the top few buttons undone to let his chest peek from its hiding spot. With one last sigh, you close your book.

You slip off the bed, easing down to your knees. Letting your hands rest in your lap, you allow your jaw to drop open wide, ready to receive him as you push your tongue out over your bottom teeth.

He smirks lightly, his chuckle even lighter. “Down girl.” You close your mouth.

“How do you want me?”

He sighs gently, closing the door behind him and slowly walking inside. “Believe it or not,” he says, his voice gentle, “I'm not here for me, I'm here for you.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed and suspicious. “Why?”

Your attitude amuses him. He shrugs, taking a seat at the edge of your bed and looking down at you. It doesn't feel as condescending as it usually does. “Making up.”

Foolish hope sparks in your chest, but you don't let it show. “So you're not going through with it.”

“No, I am.” He hums, “But I can't have my pet neglected, now can I?”

You sigh, turning away from him. You don't know why you asked.

He pats the spot next to him. “Get back on the bed, my flower.”

You look down at your hands as you rub at your pinky. “Yes, Coryo.”

As you sit up, taking the spot next to him, he tuts gently. “Now, now. No need for that tonight,” he says, closing the gap between the both of you.

You look up at him, your attitude fully present still. “Yes, Coryo.”

He sighs. Coryo sets a hand on your knee, turning toward you. “You're upset,” he says. You scoff. “That's understandable. I upset you.”

You want to say something snarky, but you're on thin ice from today, and you don't need to make it thinner. You turn away, but he catches your gaze as he takes your chin with his crooked finger and turns you to face him again.

And you hate yourself for feeling cared for.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You hate the way you nearly melt. “You can make it up to me by letting them go.”

He hums, shrugging. “Or I can eat you out.” You feel like you might shake at the idea. When you don't speak, he raises his brows. “Unless you just want me to leave…”

He's manipulating you. You know he is. He's been doing it since the beginning. You'd think you had some sort of defense against him at this point, but he's had years of practice in bending you to his will, in getting you hooked on him.

He knows. He knows what you are.

You're feeding me poison.

And you give in. Because you've never been strong against him, not even for a moment. You give in because you're so addicted to him that you'd die without the taste of him on your tongue…

With a long sigh, you lay back against your pillows and spread your legs. His smile spread across his face in such a wicked way, self-satisfied and fully amused.

He sets a hand on your knee and shifts himself to kneel in front of you. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and pushes your nightgown away, teasing you and increasing your still-there frustrations.

Yes, you've lost the ability to resist this man and his sexual prowess, but that doesn't mean you want to draw this out. It's shameful enough…

He knows this. That's why he does it.

His lips press to the inside of your knee, then further down your thigh, and then right back up. You huff silently, annoyed with his antics.

He gives you a disarming smile. “Come now, my flower,” he tuts. “I may be spoiling you but that doesn't mean we don't still have our manners.”

You lay your head back, sighing as you let your eyes shut. You lick your bottom lip. “Please, Coryo.”

He hums. “I am sure you can do far better than that.”

Maybe you should cry. Maybe if you cry, he'll think you're ugly and leave you to live back in your lonely home at Seven. He'll think you're too worthless to go back into the Games. You could sober up the hard way… He'll leave you be.

But you know Coriolanus, which means you know that would never happen. He'd tsk, tsk, tsk and tell you how perfect you look crying. He'd hold you down and fuck you and tell you to be a good girl and keep crying for him. And you would. You know would.

Besides, if he did cast you out, he would just choose someone else to take your place. Then he would do this to them.

Better you than someone else.

You look up at him, screwing your face into a self-pitying expression. Your voice is small and meek when you open your mouth.

“Please, Coryo,” you whisper, “I'm yours.”

Just the way he likes it.

Pleased, he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then lets the flat of his tongue lick along the seam of your pussy. A whimper slips from your lips at the feeling, and you let yourself fade into the pleasure.

You forget that this man is your captor, your master. You forget that he's the reason for your nightmares. You forget that he's dark, cruel, sadistic, that he does not truly care for you.

You lose yourself in the fantasy that he is a loving man who only wants to see you happy.

“Coryo,” you moan as he suckles eagerly at your clit, a man starved of his sweet wine. Coryo. Not Coriolanus. Not Snow. Your Coryo. Your gentle, loving Coryo. The man who held you when he wasn't forcing you to your knees and bidding you to be his good girl.

His fingers stroke inside of you, two long fingers curling with you as his tongue flicks at your clit. The stretch of his fingers is welcome, and you look down at his head nestled between your thighs. You whine at the feeling of his tongue, hungry and searching.

His dull nails dig into the flesh of your thigh. As his tongue delves inside of you with his lips suckling around you, you feel his nose press deliciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves, which aches for release.

Circling his head, your legs wrap around him and squeeze, the tension tightening in your belly as he works eagerly at your pleasure. You're helpless to him as sounds rise from your throat like a gentle hum. Again, you whisper his name, lost to the feeling of him. He grunts into you, your body warm with the vibration, with the warmth of his mouth, with the warmth of his hands on your thighs.

“Coryo,” you whimper as you feel your pleasure rising within you, tingling in your legs and in your toes. Your open-mouthed breaths make your throat dry, but it’s hard to focus on that when each breath you take fills your chest with more and more desire. “I’m so close,” you gasp. “Please, can I cum?”

Instead of answering, he just sucks harder on your clit, prying your thighs further apart as he licks you up. As that coil tightens in your belly, your legs tremble and almost fight against his grip keeping them apart. You grind your hips up to meet his face, he holds you down.

You know how he likes it—the grinding, the moaning, the pleading, the strength. And when the pleasure crashes down on you, your clit pulsing against each lick of his tongue as he continues to work you, you shut your eyes and let out the breathy moans he loves so much. Your chest is full of warmth.

I’m choking on this feeling I can’t help but swallow up.

“C-Coryo,” you mutter, the sensitivity becoming too much as your legs continue to tremble. You arch away from him, but he holds you tight and pulls you closer. He forces your legs apart still, not quite finished as he continues to suckle around your sensitive bud.

You gasp when he finally pulls away, satisfied with the taste of you. “What a good girl you are,” he murmurs, smiling almost wickedly—though you replace it with one full of love and care. One can only dream.

He crawls up your body, stalking like a predator as he leans in, his face inches from yours. You bring your hands up to his cheeks and pull him down to meet your lips, kissing him with all the passion you can muster. He cares, he cares, he cares.

He cares as he traces his tongue along the seam of your lips. He cares as he smooths his hand along your soft thigh. He cares as he brings your leg up against his side and grinds his hips against you. He cares as he digs his dull nails into your flesh like the claws of a lion. He cares as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip like the fangs of a wolf.

He definitely cares as he brings a strong hand to your hair and tangles his fingers there with every intention of tugging you back to see your face. You whimper lightly, sinking into it and pretending the burn of your scalp is just the heat of your desire.

I made my choice and every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, and you fully understand the unspoken “like this” that follows his words but you choose to ignore it.

He kisses you again, this primal, devouring kiss you gladly mistake for ardor. He takes the bottom of your nightgown in his hand and pulls it up and over your head. You let him take it off of you. You let him strip you bare as his greedy hands smooth along the length of your body. Tentatively, not fully committed (you would be perfectly content with his lips on yours, kissing him forever under the illusion of simple intimacy), you pull at his belt. He undoes it and pulls it off entirely. You think he’ll toss it away, but it doesn’t.

“Open your mouth.”

Obediently, you do. He wraps the belt around your head, fitting it in your mouth as he loops it behind and pulls it tight. You nearly wince at the feeling, but he’s done worse. He unbuttons his pants, leaning down as he presses his lips to your neck. He kisses and sucks and nips at your throat, and you both let out deep moans that rumble in your chest when he presses inside of you.

You lean your head back, giving him more space to paint your neck in his claim. The taste of leather is strong on your tongue. Each breath you take is full of the earthy scent of his belt. You set your hands on his waist as he braces his fists on either side of your head. His thrusts are deep and rough. You feel his hips as he moves, his slender waist fits perfectly between your legs.

Your moans are muffled by his belt. As you dig your heels into his back, encouraging each thrust as he gives them, he grunts at the way you tighten around his cock. His hips snap into you with a greed that makes you crazy, that drives him wild. Taken by the pleasure, he grabbed the belt behind your head and pulled it in a way that made you look up at him.

His lips are plump from kissing you so roughly, his hair is loose and falling in delicate locks across his forehead, his breath fans gently across your own face. He looks pretty like this. Even with the predatory gaze in his eyes, he looks pretty. You want to kiss him but you don’t. You can’t.

He breath stutters in his throat after a particular thrust, and your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling. He continues to fuck into you, like it’s the last time. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing sweet or nice or careful. He fucks you to his own need, but knows you well enough that it would fill you with so much pleasure that it doesn’t matter if he does it for him.

And he knows you well enough that the lack of care he has in his thrusts fills you with so much longing that he doesn’t need physical pain to be sadistic.

He pulls out of you suddenly, his breath coming out in hot puffs as he leans back on his haunches. “Turn around,” he orders, though his voice is quieter—there’s no real need to bark with you.

Anyway you want me, baby, that’s the way you got me.

You do as you’re told, ignoring the discomfort in the loss of him inside of you as you sit up and move as quickly as you can with the sluggish nature of your desire for him mixing with your depletion. As soon as you’ve turned around, he doesn’t care to give you time to adjust to the new position before he’s grabbing the belt again, wrapping it around his fist, and taking your hip in his other hand as he shoves his cock into you once again.

You go to hang your head, the feeling too great, but you’re stopped by his grip of the belt. Setting the quickened pace at the beginning, he fucks into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin smacking against yours fills the room. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out. His name is muffled on your lips, but his grunts are clear in the air.

His hand on your waist circles around as he presses his fingers to your still-sensitive clit. He rubs fast circles against it, building you up, up, up. You can’t help but whine, you can’t help but feed his hunger as he fills you with pleasure. Your legs tremble, and with his skill, it isn’t long until he hurls you into your second orgasm.

You throw your head back and moan, the sound rough with your desperation. But he doesn’t stop. He isn’t finished. He fucks your sensitive cunt. His eyes flutter at the tightening of your cunt.

You feel so weak, tired from the exertion but not fully satisfied until you’ve given him all that he needs. You’ve been with this man for years and the conditioning settled in a long time ago.

I’ll be yours.

So, yes, he keeps going and keeps going and keeps going. He takes you on your back, he takes you on your hands and knees, he takes you against the wall (front and back), he takes you in his lap, and he never stops each time until you’ve come apart in his hands. Pent up with so much stress and spurred on by the fatigue in your eyes, he lasts through it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going by this point. All you know is the rhythm of his hips thrusting in and out and in and out as he pushes you down into the bed with your ass pulled up against his hips and your face buried in a pillow. His hands push against your back, keeping you down still. You can hear his breath, heavy with his own nearing exertion. His thrusts are beginning to lose their rhythm, becoming more and more desperate with his nearing release.

You can hardly keep your eyes open. All your breaths have been reduced to shallow whimpers, and as his finger presses against your clit again, a mewl slips from your throat as it pleads for relief and release alike. You hear him begin to curse under his breath, his thrusts rougher though not as steady. And he presses you further still as he moves closer, seeking his relief as it gets so close, he can taste it.

And, because you know him just as well as he knows you, you tip him over the edge as you let your lips part. Your voice is small and meek and whiny, a needy little cry that he hears because he craves it. “Coryo.”

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you hard in the first few seconds that he spills into you, his cum hot and plentiful as he moves himself farther against you as if he could go deeper still. And as his fingers flick at your clit, you accompany his needy moan with your own as you cum as well. You’re blinded by the feeling, left mewling as your eyes well with tired tears. It’s almost uncomfortable and you wince slightly when he presses a little too deep into you.

Coryo lingers there, his breath evening into a steadier rhythm as he eases off of you. You take in a full breath as he pulls out of you, closing your eyes and going limp against the sheets. Your body is so heavy, full of the exhaustion that has haunted you for years, exhaustion that comes with belonging to Coriolanus Snow. You wish you could slow down, take a breath, but whatever Snow wants, Snow gets.

My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison.

Coryo runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. He picks your nightgown up from the floor and wipes the both of you clean with the smallest modicum of care. You feel his knuckles brush against your shoulder and you shiver as he lets it graze gently along your spine. He stops it at the dip of your back.

Coryo turns off your bedside lamp, crawling into the bed as he shifts behind you, a gentle hand falling to your side as he pulls you into his body. And you actually find comfort in his arms as he pulls you closely to his body. His head rests in the crook of your neck, your body is pulled flush against his. His warmth seeps into your skin and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pulls the covers over your bodies.

And for a moment, everything is perfect. For a moment, you trick yourself into believing that this man can be capable of love.

But you feel his arms tightening around you until your lungs are so tight that it’s nearly impossible to breathe. You feel his nails, eager and greedy, digging into your flesh, and you wince at the terrible sting of them. He pulls you closer, not just seeking your warmth, but seeking full control and possession over something that already belongs to him. You silence your whimper.

I’m drowning in poison. I keep fillin’ my glass but it’s always hollow, full of poison.

When you can get past the pain of his embrace, you manage to lull yourself to sleep. You rest in his clutch and indulge in the false security of his empty arms.

But your rest is short-lived. Because halfway through the night, he wakes. Coryo opens his eyes and loosens his hold on you. You rouse from your own sleep but you stay perfectly still with closed eyes and steady breath. He lets go of you completely, getting out of the bed and leaving the room with silent steps. He has work to do.

I’m sick of the poison.

Once the door is closed, you’re left cold and alone. You curl up in on yourself, turning your head into the pillow as you feel the dam break. And like an idiot, you cry into your pillow. Your chest stutters with all the pain and weariness and hopelessness you carry with you through the day, through the night. You let it out, but it never seems to fade. And as the fatigue takes over once more, you let it take you into a sleepless kind of sleep where your nightmare of holding love in your hands plays in your mind over and over and over again.

Wish I had something to live for tomorrow.

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