A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow X Reader)
A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)
WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque
summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.
~
You thought that it was over when you won.
That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.
Try your best to put him behind you.
So, why were you still being tormented?
When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.
…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.
“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.
His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.
“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.
The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.
…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.
“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.
That was all the confirmation you needed, really.
…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.
Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.
…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.
Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.
“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”
You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.
It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…
You’d die.
A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.
That was all.
You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.
So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.
At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.
“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.
Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.
Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.
“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.
The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.
If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.
You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.
That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.
Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.
You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.
“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.
You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.
“Of course.”
You didn’t know if you believed him.
…and Coriolanus could tell.
You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.
Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.
They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.
Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.
Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.
You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.
“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.
It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.
“…and why not?”
“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”
Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.
For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.
“…and if it does?”
He continued when you frowned.
“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.
Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.
“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”
“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”
“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”
You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.
“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”
The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.
You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.
You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.
“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”
You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.
“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”
His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.
You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.
“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”
You swallowed.
“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”
Another step towards you.
“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.
Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.
“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”
You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.
“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”
You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.
Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.
…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.
Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.
The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.
Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.
Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.
Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.
The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.
This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.
When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.
When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.
You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.
Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.
After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.
“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.
The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.
“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”
You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.
“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.
You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.
“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”
You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.
“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”
Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.
“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.
When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.
It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.
“I want you there with me.”
His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.
That thought did make tears spill over.
It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.
Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.
“I want you there with me,” he repeated.
You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.
“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.
His response was swift and clipped.
“You belong with me.”
When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.
Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.
You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.
When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.
You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.
“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”
You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.
You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.
He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.
When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.
You even thought you saw snow.
More Posts from Tonixe and Others
Omg, this is a definition of a slay.
DCKZ meets Manager Ayato and Ayaka through Thoma
MOTIVE...
a/n: ZOOWEMAMA, NEW CELEBRITY CRUSH UNLOCKED. Yes, I DID JUST WATCH THE NEW HUNGER GAMES, AND THIS is PROBABLY LIKE THE ONLY TIME I WILL SAY, THAT ONLY THE YOUNG CORIOLANUS SNOW IS HOT; the movie was good asf, low-key jealous of the actor who played Lucy like I would love I mean love to just be proximity 5 feet or less like he is just so hot. **
warning: mentions of violence (threats), smut, p in the v, penetration, fingering, bathroom sex, enemy lovers trope...proofread (?).
pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader
word counter: 1.8k
You were perfect, the embodiment of a perfect daughter, student, and personality. You carried yourself with grace, and made yourself known as an individual with class and intelligence.
You have an outstanding academic standing, high grades, good social points, and were popular with your peers. A person with all that must have someone to be rival with or a person trying to one-up them. In this case, it was true for you, the last name Snow, made you snarl. The name Coriolanus Snow, made you grimace even. He was always one step ahead of you, if you were two, he would be one. It made you resent him in every single way.
Today was reaping day...the anniversary of making the district pay for their uprising against capital control and authority. You were wearing a black dress with a scoop necklace and small cut diamonds sowed on your dress, making it look like the night sky, it fell to your knees. Pearls waiting on your neck with matching earrings and a dashing pair of bloody red lips to match the blood that was ready to be spilled in the arena.
The building was busy with students, excited for the games to begin. It was supposedly going to be last, but you knew it was a lie. Why would the capitol stop the games, weren't their enemies not rebelling against them enough? Vigilantly waiting for it to start, holding onto a delicate glass cup with some liquid poured into, it as you sipped from the glass. You were conversing with a few of your peers, not friends. You weren't considered them anywhere near you, there were just walking money bags that socially and economically fueled you.
"Y/N, how would you prophesize this year's hunger game will turn out ?" Festus said, you looked at him. "Well...I, presume that it going to end as fast as it started" You declared, smirking against the glass before you sipped the liquid inside your cup, "I don't expect any of thoses things to survive fast" Felix agreed with your thought, "The same" Arachne added.
You loved basking in the attention of others, made you feel like you had some power, and if people liked you. They would agree, give, gift, allow, and offer anything to you. It was shortly outlived, "Finally, the star pupil," Arachne said, their attention turning to Coriolanus, and yours flickered to him as well.
You bit your lip at the scene, glaring at her before you looked at him. "That's a snazzy shirt, what are those buttons.. tesserae?" Arachne marvels at his shirt, picking out several details, you put your hands covering your mouth to hide your smile.
"Hm..that's why they remind me of the maid's bathroom," Coriolanus remarked, looking at the button, turning his attention towards the group, "Not surprising with the people you associated yourself with, Coriolanus" You commented, taking a sip from your drink, faintly tilting your head to the side, denoting Sejanus's presence from afar.
"How malicious of you, y/n. That was the most humane thing you ever displayed to me" He said, his eyes and yours making contact with each other, making the room oddly tense up. "I'm tender-hearted but not a charity" You affirmed, the grip of your glass getting harder as you spoke to him.
Were you jealous, no, never. Why would you ever be jealous of him? Maybe it was his high intelligence, the way he carried himself, his charm on everyone he talked to? or everything that was neatly wrapped in a silky satin red bow, that was an embodiment of himself. It was funny to you, that you had this 'discreet' loathe for someone, and that person was in less than 6 feet of you, proximity 2 people away.
"Well, I heard this year there is something called the 'Plinth' prize" You turned your attention to Felix talking, "Something about Doctor Gauls' being in the building, Plinth.." Felix turned his head, "I mean just look at his spawn" I turned my attention to Sejanus from afar. "Who knew you could buy your way into the capitol?" Felix finished, "Well, money does control everything" you muttered, cocking your eyebrows.
"Well, you can't buy class, I mean...have you looked at his mother's outfit, Oh sorry, his ma's..." Festus mocked before the group snickering, "Dress a turnip in a ball gown, and it will still be begged to be mashed" Coriolanus joked, flickering his eyes away from Sejanus.
"Don't do that we all know you like him" Arachne commented, " I don't like him, Arachne. I tolerate him. He's District" Coriolanus finished, cutting her off completely, made you amused. "That's a low blow" You mockingly did a sad face at him, "The low blow is being district" Coriolanus muttered, you smirked at his actions.
"Tolerate him, just don't encourage. I heard these games how immoral these hunger games have been, putting him in the arena must—" Festus spoke he cut himself short as Sejanus walked toward the group. The whole thing was funny, snarky remarks being thrown, and your lips were graced with a smile every time.
Your ears heard the ringing of the bell signaling the start of the reaping. You got into your seat, sitting right next to Arachne.
It went delighting, well for you. You got a capable-looking tribute, she looked promising to you, and her name was Hera. Interesting to give a poor girl, a high-class name. You were in the bathroom, powering your nose, fixing up yourself. Puffing the power puff on your face, leaving your face having a matte finish. Applying your signature color on your lips.
Your ears heard the door opening, but your eyes didn't bother to look at the person who came as you were too busy with yourself.
Feeling a pair of hands on your waist, your eyes flickering to the mirror, looking at the one who was responsible, only to met with the eyes that you so daintily hate. You quickly turn yourself around, "What are you doing here?" You exclaimed, turning your attention to the blonde that came in, Coriolanus. "Do you know what bathroom you're in Coriolanus?" You crossed your arms, glaring at him.
"It didn't bother you then, why now" He walked closer to your awaiting form, "Then, I didn't resent you," You stated, feeling his hands on your bottom, lightly spinning you in a halfway motion. "Are you serious going to this in the bathroom.." Your eyes darted away from him, "What if I said, yes?" He lifted your head up narrowly so that your eyes met his "...what if we get caught?" You really did hate him, how he made you feel, how he controlled you, but it felt natural to be obedient to him, his cold stare meeting yours.
"Let's wait still we do" He leaned towards you and whispered to your ear, before taking you by surprise, taking your body and placing it on the marble of the cold bathroom counter. Making you hiss from the temperature change, his actions were rushed taking your tights off with the motion of matching colored panties, discarding them somewhere else.
His lips latching onto yours, leaning you back to the mirror, your arms holding down for support. Moans trailing down from your lips, groans from his, your hands on your cheeks, feeling his tongue exploring the caverns of your mouth. Opening your eyes slightly from the hungry kiss, catching your gaze at the growing size that was bound to be released from his constricted black pants. You withdraw from the kiss attempting to catch your breath, feeling yourself unravel in front of the blonde gentleman. "Just put 'it' in already" You whispered, hanging your arms that lack strength on his shoulders, "Not yet, my dove" Feeling his fingers dancing under your dress, his finger making contact with the sensitive parts of you, making you shutter.
"Coriolanus....be gentle, you know im sensitive" your lips pouting before feeling the intrusion, making you jump in your skin. Your languid moans being ripped out from your throat, while he pushes you further, pushing the digit further in and taking it out, thrusting in a frantic style.
Your body jolted and bounced back from the force he used. He edges you on, till your skin is covered with a layer of sweat, and everything around you makes you feel hot. You needed to get out of his dress in some way, it was another layer that denied you, the friction you needed.
His slender fingers carved a way into you, reaching into parts of you didn't know you had, your head hung low, feeling embarrassed from the vulgar things you both were doing in the bathroom, the feeling of being caught was only a chance but was never low. Your eyes hesitantly look at the door, feeling your skin pricking, distracting you. "Coryo...I'm close" you whispered, something in him erupted when you said that, that..very nickname. His fingers removed themselves from you, making you quiver, dissatisfied.
"Y/N..I want you to use that name...every time I thrust into you" He spoke, his very words made you wet, if not impossible more attracted. His hands on your upper thigh, pulling you towards him. Propping your hip at the edge of the counter, your cheeks were flushed, knowing what was next.
Next thing you knew his pant were discarded like your panties, and feeling him lining up with your slit. His hand is on your waist massaging the muscle, before he pushes his hips to yours, the intrusion feels better, moans trailing down on your lips. His hip colliding with yours. Your ears hearing him groan in pleasure, your own mind on cloud 9.
Feeling yourself getting needier for a sort of release or satisfaction.
"C-coryo, I'm close" you whimpered, your skin feeling more hot, your dress making you uncomfortable. His cock fucking into you, your body jolting at the frantic push into you. Hooking your arms around, feeling yourself almost unraveling, "Me too, my dove" Coriolanus groans out, his hips snapping back into you. Before you felt a crash of waves coming down on you, your gummy walls clamping down around his cock. Hearing his groans in your ear, as he thrust into you a few more times before pulling out of you, and spilling himself on your stomach.
Heavy breathing was all you heard, no words just your body growing tired from the minute. "You did well" his hands caressing your cheek gently. Your lips parted, as you stared into his icy-like eyes. Your chest heaves out, placing your hands on his, leaning into his embrace.
You hate it, but you can't understand why you love it at the same time...it fills you with confusing thoughts, but every time you look at the same blonde gentleman you thought you were to loathe, but your heart skips a beat.
You gave him back a small smile. Finding yourself surrendering and freezing into the snow and frost—and your heart being held with a lock and key.
Charade...
a/n: Omg, like guys I'm lowkey obsessed with Coriolanus Snow, like obsessed, but I can't like to stop, like I'm literally going crazy for this white boy like lemme just love you like pleaseeeeee. Also, I got heavily influenced to write this after watching the charade movie, this fic will have lyrics connected to it, so you can listen to it or not, the choice is yours. The song I used is Charade by Henry Mancini.
warning: angst, mentions of some sort of cheating, reader being used, yelling. proofread (?) maybe, idk.
pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader
word counter: 1.6k
When we played our charade...
You stood there fitting on your dress, one of the maids tightening up your corset on the back of your dress. You were going to attend an event, being seen by the public of the people of Panem. Well, being the first lady of Panem, organizing, and attending thousands of events in your husband's honor. Your role was to keep a smile, even when it was a good time for you or your country. You served the public and served your husband, looking inside yourself into the mirror in front, as the maid finished fighting your dress up. It was a red, burgundy dress that he personally picked for you, to match your husband's suit.
We were like children posing...
You weren't originally supposed to be in the position, you weren't even supposed to be married to him. You only know if when you were kids, him and his cousin, Tigris. You were familiar, knowing her more than you knew him. But time came to pass by, and you managed to know more about him, his likes, and dislikes, he was always around his grandmother when he stopped by you. It was always a vivid memory for you, playing seek with the younger version of himself and running around the park, you really missed him, but now it didn't feel like him at all.
Playing games..acting out names..guessing the parts we played...
Placing your hand near where your heart lay, staring at the mirror hoping it would break. It was a small world, you both went to the same academy, where you met him again after a little time apart, you still sent letters to him though, hoping he read every last word you marked on the page. You manage to reunite there, spending your time with him, talking, walking to classes, and doing everything together.
Oh, what a hit we made...
You felt your heart pumping when you were near him, his nice demeanor making you feel safe. He was your everything, you didn't think he thought the same but you still kept the feelings to yourself. Remember sitting in the library after hours, studying next to him, feeling yourself getting drowsy, almost falling down on your open textbook. "Are you tired?" You turned to him, he didn't look at you, his eyes looking at the textbook. Your cheeks flushed, before he turned to you. You felt your palm getting sweaty, and the pace of your heart increasing, "No" You lied, turning back to your book, "I know when you lie, Y/N" He tapped his shoulder, your eyes widening, "You sure?" You asked. He nodded. You placed your head on his shoulder trying not to make him uncomfortable or distracted. Smiling to yourself, before closing your eyes, you swore to yourself that you saw a little smile on his solemn face.
We came on next to closing...
You were really satisfied when you were with him, a smile never leaving your face. Spending time with him whenever you can, and he loved it too. A smile is always on his face when he sees you in the hallway, running towards him.
Best on the bill..lovers until...
He was familiar with your family. Your mom liked him. Your father respected him. You were happy, but happier when he confessed his feelings to you, your cheeks felt hot. Everything felt like a dream to you, this was what you wanted. His hands were on your face gently, as he pulled you into a kiss, you closed your kiss, loving every minute of it. You felt on top of the world, and your crush liked you back, isn't that what you wanted the whole time.
Love left the masquerade...
Everything took a sharp turn when reaping day came, he was in the top 24th of the best students in the academy, pairing in the Hunger Games as a mentor. You were happy for him, hugging him and giving him kisses. Him, laying down on your lap, as you played with his hair, as he voiced his wants to you. You listened to him, enjoying his ribboning voice to your ears, kissing him on his forehead.
Fate seemed to pull the strings...
Until you saw Lucy Gray, on the holographic screen. You never saw her as an opponent, she actually made you curious, about her voice and how she represented herself. She was from District 12, with a voice only found in the country of Panem, and a nice one too. Your eyes seemed to tune on to the TV screen, watching her. She was going to be the ticket for Coriolanus to win, hoping in your heart that she would win the hungry games. Though she physically didn't suit the standards of a fighter. You gave out prayers at night for her to stay alive for Coriolanus.
I turned and you were gone...
Time... when you Coriolanus would hang out was shortening. His time is consumed by the Hunger Games. Most of his time, his thoughts, and mind went to her. You understood why he couldn't talk to as often as you wanted, but a small part of your heart panged from the thought. Many thoughts rushed through your head, thinking that Lucy Gray would replace you as a seal upon his heart, you tried to wash them out, but couldn't. It was irrational to think that of your boyfriend, you wished you didn't believe too.
While from the darkened wing...
You tried to voice your thoughts to him but were met with a quiet stare. Your face was worried, and your heart was slowly crumbling. "Coriolanus, wait..please!' You exclaimed you cried out, but he kept on walking down the halls, before he turned to you, "Y/N, how can I..pay attention to the games, if you distracting me" That was the first time he raised his voice at him, your eyes widen, you felt your eyes getting glossy. It was the first time he ever raised his voice at you, "C-coryo, I'm just worried, please" You begged, he was getting irritated by you, "I just don't want to lose you" Your voice died out, your chest heaving, tears leaking onto your cheeks. Hearing his footsteps coming closer to you, his hands on your cheeks, "There is nothing going on with me and Lucy Gray, alright" He looked at you in the eyes, and your stomach dropped. Before he released it and walked down to the halls where the games were going to resume.
The music box played on...
Your heart beating in your chest, as you collapsed to the floor, Wanting to tear up but couldn't feel anything to let out. Your heart pumps a sad symphony as you place your hand on top of your chest, holding yourself close.
Sad little serenade...
You watched on your TV, your siblings, and your parents peering into the television. As you walked to the parlor room, looked at the television, looking at Lucy Gray being the last one alive in the games. Your heart jumped, feeling elated for Coriolanus and his victory being secured. You wanted to run to him, hug him, give him kisses on his cheeks, but the pang still ringing in your heart. Knowing that the seal of his love was won by another person, though it wasn't official, you still felt it.
Song of my heart's composing...
You went to the academy, going to your classes. You wanted to see Coriolanus, and hug him after his victory, waiting what felt like hours for you to go and run to him. Entering into the classroom and sitting down, looking to the side where Coriolanus was supposed to sit. It was weird, your dear Coryo. Would never missed any days of the academy anything, he always put his education first. You turned to your left, seeing Clemensia. Wasn't he his partner in class, "Um, excuse me. Have you seen Coriolanus" You asked, hoping for answers for yourself. She shook her head... wasn't it strange. The day after his win, he was magically gone. You needed answers...
I hear it still, and I always will...
The news hit you like a truck, Coriolanus volunteering his time in the military. it was odd, his goal, or dreams better to say, was graduating, and then going to a university, it didn't make sense at all why, he would go that route. He wouldn't do anything, he didn't tell you, right.
Best on the Bill...
You wrote letters, though time did pass
you still wrote letters to him, though you didn't send them, not knowing his direct location, but you hoped he was still alive, safe, and sound. Sending some prayers for him to come back, every day and night. Though you didn't give him a proper goodbye, you still felt you were entitled to do it.
A total of three years passed, you counted them. 365 days every year, waiting for him to come, maybe for you. But you just wanted to see him again.
Charade...
You heard a knock on your door and opened the door to see a matured Coriolanus at your door. Your heart dropped. It didn't feel real to you at all. You wanted to cry and hug him, but you kept yourself composed, looking him in the eyes, he didn't say anything. He offered you a dehorned, red rose. His appearance changed, his blond curls shortened, he was wearing a red suit and his face was stern, less gentle than you remembered. You took it, placing it in your heart, "I missed you" You whispered, feeling tears rolling down your cheeks.
But now, you are in his mess. Going out into the hall, as he waited for you, putting your hands around his, he turned to you, whispering into your ear, "You look beautiful" As you both walked into the awaiting people, waiting to see yours and his appearance.
Hearing the symphony die out, as you reached the shining light of the chandelier above.
This is the stuff I wake up to from my brother. And I believe this was posted by the official The Boys and Gen V Facebook groups or smth.
The most accurate one is obviously Love Sausage being Sweetums.
Who want to request some fiyero fics?!
Hi I just wanted to say I think that your writing is magnificent and it brings me so much joy on that note I was wondering if you could do a eddie x reader where eddie has a crush on the reader and people like the basketball team or cheerleaders keep embarrassing him infront of reader so he gets completely humiliated and gos and hides somewhere to cry (you can choose the place) and reader finds him and comforts him and you can tie it all together with a confession or not but I trust you
Sorry if that made no sense or sounds stupid and you can completely ignore this idea if you want to thank you for your time 😊
FREAK'S GOT A STARING PROBLEM ━ imagine!
eddie munson x fem!reader
summary: eddie cannot stop looking at you. not for anything bad! he just thought that you are the most beautiful thing to walk on earth. but will his habit bring fortune or conflict for him? it's terrible that this freak's got a staring problem.
genre: a bit of angst? / fluff
wc: 1. 98k
note/warning: a bit of bullying and lots of curse words lol. and major tw!jason. mfs scary. also, i'm not entirely proud of this one, but i hope you enjoy!
Eddie thought that you were the most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth.
Sure, his porno magazines had some hot chicks in them, and frequently he would see the occasional actress in the movies that he would watch, but you? You seemed to beat all of them so easily with both your personality and beauty.
It physically pained him to have this teeny-tiny crush on you. In the few classes the both of you shared together, Eddie always caught himself looking your way. He didn’t know what overcame him to possess his eyes to draw to you, but he knew the reasons could’ve been either your radiating smile or possibly, that bright light that seemed to be behind you.
Though he frequently stared at you, however, Eddie Munson was not a perv. He could never look at you in that light, well-
‘No.’ Eddie stops himself. He will not let his mind be dragged to that point. You were an angel graced by God, how the fuck can he even think of you in such a dirty way?
Eddie groans, finally hearing the ringing of the school bell, notifying Hawkins High that it was finally lunch. He heard the class go by around him but didn’t start packing until most of them had left. Sometimes, Eddie imagined what his life would’ve been like if he was in your high school posse.
Athlete, cut hair, spent most of his time in training or parties. Easily having the prettiest girl in his arms. And of course, for that position, it would be you.
Fortunately, life was kind to Eddie. Instead, he was playing one of the most brilliant games ever created, with the best people around him. He would prefer that, over throwing a ball around for an hour. With that thought, he would have to deal with the ridicules that frequented him, and most importantly, holding his feelings and looking at you from a metre away. It was fine. He could live like this.
Eddie’s ears are infiltrated with noise as he walks through the cafeteria doors, seeing that several students have already received their lunch. He began to make his way to the lunch line, expecting to receive the most lacklustre, unappetizing meal of the day.
After receiving a certain look from the lunch lady, Eddie mutters a ‘thanks’ and looks around to see his friends sitting at the usual table. They seem to already be deep in conversation, making Eddie feel a bit inferior because of his absence. He hopes it isn’t too important, because of course, as the leader of Hellfire, Eddie had to be there for every complaint and recommendation.
But first, a small stop past the table he dreaded the most.
No, Eddie wasn’t going to actually stop and talk to anyone at that table, shit, that was blasphemous at whoever cared. All he’s going to do is walk by, and catch a small, small glimpse at you. Hopefully today you were either smiling or laughing because if he was being honest, those expressions look beautiful on you.
As he walks past, he sees you giggling a bit behind your hands, making him fail to notice how his stride begins to slow. Eddie is entranced by your laugh and smile, feeling as though a higher power somewhat blessed him today.
Unfortunately, the devil seemed to curse him as well, seeing as he captured the attention of the prick sitting at the head of the table.
At first, Jason was going to say something, either ‘get out of here freak’ or whatever. Until, he looks at where Eddie’s gaze was caught, tracing it back to you. An alarm goes off in his head.
“Hey, freak!” Eddie’s head snaps to Jason, who slams his hands down on the table and stands up. Eddie’s heart begins to race.
‘Shit!’ He thought he was being so slick!
“You fuckin’ need somethin’?” Jason starts to make his way to him.
“No Jason-”
“Then why are you looking at Y/N? Got a starin’ problem you need help taking care of?” The blond jams his finger into Eddie’s chest, prompting him to almost drop the lunch tray in his hands. Eddie steadies himself, almost losing his temper at the bullshit Jason was trying to pull.
In the corner of his eye, he can see that your head was turned to him, making him a bit nervous under your gaze.
“Listen, Jason, I don’t want anything to happen. I was just walking by.”
‘Yup, yup. Keep your cool. Gotta look swift for her.’
“Yeah Jason, he doesn’t want anything to happen,”
‘God fuck! Why do his goons have to get involved?!’
The basketball player, whom Eddie remembers to be Andy, laughs under his breath, “he doesn’t want anything to happen, to interrupt his serial killer plans. He’s probably planning to kill our whole fucking table just to be with Y/N. What a fucking creep.”
“Yeah, we hit the jackpot? Is that what you want to do? Order your little cult to kidnap Y/N so you could use her in your cult sacrifices?” The cafeteria gets silent at the statements of Jason and Andy. Eddie’s face feels warm, not because he was particularly embarrassed, but because of his anger.
He just wanted to look at you is all, what’s wrong with that?!
“Hey Jason-” Eddie hears a soft voice,
“No. We need to fucking expose this freak before he terrorizes Hawkins. Shit, maybe tomorrow night we might just see that club of his dancing around a fire. That’s what you do Eddie? Dance around the fire like a couple of pussy bitches?”
“Why don’t you fucking push your head up Andy’s ass Jason. You’re being a fucking prick.” Eddie sneers at Jason. Of course, Jason expected this kind of reaction from him, prompting him to threateningly step closer.
“Yeah, you freak-”
“Jason, I fuckin’ said, shut,” he pushes the cafeteria tray into his chest, “the fuck, up!” Eddie turns his tray over, knocking some potato mixture onto Jason’s varsity jacket. The cafeteria gasps, but before Jason could give him some kind of comeback, Eddie leaves the room. Not forgetting to give him the middle finger before he made his exit.
Slightly turning around, Eddie still makes the effort to look for you, catching your shocked face switching between him and Jason.
“Get back here you freak!” The door shuts behind him.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Eddie runs through the school, trying to find an empty classroom he could hide in for the time being. He definitely didn’t want to get caught by Jason and his goblins.
He wasn’t prepared for whatever they were gonna give him.
“Eddie?” His heart stops. Eddie hears a voice in the hallway, not wanting to turn around and witness his murderer.
‘FUCK.’ Pushing open the door right next to him, he finds it to be the restroom. Not sure if it was girls or boys, but regardless, he didn’t care. Eddie rushes into the last stall, pulling close the door and sitting on the toilet seat, pushing his legs up to hide from whoever was looking for him.
The door swings open.
‘SHIT! Ozzy, please, I’m begging you. Please save me from whatever they’re gonna do to me, I’ll listen to Black Sabbath extra hard tonight. I promise!’
Eddie rocks back and forth, biting onto his rings to stop his heavy breathing. Slow footsteps echo throughout the small room, before finally stopping in front of him.
‘Well. Praying didn’t do shit. Ozzy! You bi-’
“Eddie? It’s me, Y/N.” His heart stops, again.
‘Oh no. You’re probably here to fucking expose him. Jason is gonna come in here in any second-’
“I know, you probably don’t want to talk to me. But I’m not gonna call for Jason or any of his groupies. If it helps you, Chrissy is trying her best to calm him down…and I think that she’s doing an okay job.” Silence ensues. “Eddie? I just want to talk to you.”
His heart hurts. Why does your voice have to sound so pretty as well?
Eddie puts his feet down. Slowly unlocking the door, he pulls it towards him and faces you.
‘Shit, so pretty.’ Earlier, when he said that there seemed to be a light radiating behind you, he didn’t mean literally. But now?
The lights above the restroom mirrors flicker a little, but still manage to enhance your beauty. Eddie almost crumbles to the ground, but instead just keeps his gaze locked onto your eyes…trying not to look anywhere else.
“May I help you?” Shit, that sounded rude.
“Hey! Um, I just wanted to talk about what Jason was saying earlier. I’m sorry about whatever he said, y’know, about Hellfire and you.”
‘Fuck! She knows about Hellfire?!’
“Yeah…it’s not okay. I mean, he’s a fucking child so I don’t really care. The fact that you’re apologizing for him says a lot.” You sigh, rocking back and forth.
“Well, our varsity basketball captain has a massive stick up his ass, so…I’m here. Apologizing for him because he is, like you said, a fucking child.” Eddie laughs a bit and you join him as well. He didn’t really expect you to criticise Jason like that, especially since the both of you ran in the same social circle. “Um, but that isn’t really what I came to talk to you about Eddie.”
‘Oh shit.’ This was it. The moment when you were going to ask him to stop looking at you.
“About what Jason was saying…were you really looking at me or was Jason just imagining things?” Eddie swallows his spit. He really was debating on whether or not he should tell you the truth.
“Well, um, uh,” fuck it, “yeah. I was looking at you. I just think that you…you know, are- shit.” He wipes his eyes with his hands to avoid looking at you. For some reason, you were getting too fucking bright.
“No! Eddie, um…” you grab his hands from his face, surprising him a bit, “I think, I think I like you looking at me.” Eddie pauses, internally screaming.
‘...what?’
“I mean! I like you looking at me, as in, you know, I like that you take the time out of your day! I appreciate it! I also notice too in class, you looking at me, cause I look at you too- fuck! I mean, sorry, shit…I think your tattoos are cool!” You blurt that all out, shaking his hands as you spoke to him. You didn’t seem to notice that you were moving his hands along with yours, but he didn’t mind it.
“You think my tattoos are cool?” Your eyes widen.
“Of course! Who doesn’t? I love the bat one it’s so metal. I want to get a tattoo for my eighteenth, but I’m not sure what to get!” Eddie goes through some more pausing.
‘Did you just say ‘metal’?’
“Did you just say metal?” Eddie repeats, standing up from the toilet, and you finally realize that his hands were in yours. Frantically pulling them away at the realization, Eddie immediately grabs them back.
He was not getting rid of this opportunity!
“I did…? Did it sound right? I just started listening to metal, so I hope it’s okay to use the term.” His smile grows wider on his face.
“Yes, yes you did say it right.” You smile right back and Eddie was starting to gain his confidence. “Listen, if you need any help coming up with ideas for a tattoo…I could always help you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, totally.” His thumbs rub your hands,
‘Way to go Eddie!’
“Then,” you step closer to him, “can I request that you also be there when I get it? Y’know, to comfort me and what not.”
‘Ozzy? Praying to you has got to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.’
“Just give me the time and place sweetheart.”
TAGS:
@crunchcake @buckwbarnz @bookobsessedfreak
pink goes good with green ₊˚⊹
favourite crime - coriolanus snow
coriolanus snow loves you… but when he learns that he’s being sent back to the capitol—well, he can’t have any loose ends left back in district 12.
dark possessive!coriolanus snow x district 12!reader
cw: 18+//dead dove do not eat!!!//snuff//mentions of loss of virginity//mentions of murder//coriolanus snow’s disgusting inner monologue//murder//strangulation//piv sex//mentions of guns
viewer discretion advised!! i do not condone any of these themes, this is merely a work of fiction
IB: @shellxrls
when you’d first laid eyes on private snow at the hob, you never would’ve thought you’d end the night with your lips wrapped around his cock. no, you were a good girl. you didn’t do things like that, and certainly not with strange men in darkened corners. but coriolanus was different. he made your core burn with desire, and your heart skip a beat every time his icy eyes flicked over you.
you spent many evenings with him—friday nights especially—legs spread, letting him touch you in ways you’d never known before. he liked that you had been a virgin; the thought of corrupting this stupid little district girl and turning her into his whore. you belonged to him now, and he’d have you whenever he pleased. you were nothing more than a hole to fill his desire with.
you were head over heels for him—so when he told you he’d been given a discharge to return to the capitol, he’d thought his pretty little doll would be delighted for him. you’d had fat tears streaming down your cheeks, mascara running—you’d worn it just for him, to look pretty—clutching at his arms and begging him to stay.
you couldn’t leave district 12, no. you didn’t belong in a place like the capitol.
the way you were begging was so pathetic; getting on your knees, weeping, voice strained with frustration. he couldn’t believe how he’d done this to a girl—lucy gray was never like this. when he’d left her for you she’d simply resigned herself to singing not-so-subtle tunes about how much of an asshole he was. well, at least before he killed her.
you were different. you were his little doll. his and his only. that’s why you had to return to the capitol with him—he’d have packed you into his bag if there had been enough room. it was a shame they didn’t allow for pretty whores to travel with the peacekeepers.
‘please, coryo,’ you cried out, hands clutching at his trousers. ‘don’t leave me, i- i love you!’
your attempts at flattery were ridiculous, but in a way he knew that you did love him. he didn’t love you, exactly. he loved knowing that he possessed you, that your heart entirely belonged to him. but he could never love a whore from the districts—especially not 12 at that.
‘is my bunny sad that i’ll be going home?’ he cooed, clutching your chin with his large hand. you were so small. he could break you if he wanted to…
‘mhm. gonna miss you so bad, coryo,’ you gazed up at him with wide-eyes—they looked so innocent as they glistened with the tears of your upset.
‘gonna miss your cock, and your tongue…’ you sighed wistfully. ‘gonna miss riding you and having you fuck me full of your cum.’
your lips are turned into a pretty pout, and he wonders then and there whether or not he should get his cock out and shove it past them. make you drink up his seed one last time. or perhaps he could bend you over his bunk and put a baby in you—then you’d always have something to remember him by.
no—that would make you a loose end. and he can’t have loose ends. you can’t know that he shot the mayor’s daughter because she pissed him off too much—or that his songbird, lucy gray, now lay somewhere at the bottom of the lake by the cabin.
he decides he can spend one last night with his little bunny. just one night. but then he’s clearing up loose ends. you’d never assume what he had been planning, no, you’re far too dumb to understand that. you see the good in everyone; and that made his chest burn with fury. how could you be so fucking innocent?
‘bunny…’ his voice trailed off. you nod, awaiting him to tell you something, anything—did he love you too?
‘i’ve got an idea. one last special night, just the two of us, hm? down at that cabin by the lake,’ he stroked your cheek. how sweet you looked like this, all red in the face. ‘i’ll give you a night worth remembering. let you sit on my face.’
you gave him an eager smile, and he knew his little bunny was just too stupid to know she was falling into his trap.
—
this was where he’d killed lucy gray, too. that had been a cold, rainy day. just like this one. you’d been so easy to lure into his trap; meeting him by the hanging tree in your prettiest dress—one with tiny pink flowers that came just above the knee. you’d even tucked a flower behind your ear. how sweet.
you couldn’t wait to spend your last night with coryo. you’d been singing all day, and practically skipped to meet him with a little bag full of some food and your toothbrush. you’d flung yourself into his arms, not caring about the consequences of being caught with a peacekeeper. he’d be gone by tomorrow morning anyways.
the walk to the cabin had tired you out considerably, and so you clung to coryo like a pathetic little bunny, letting him lead the way. you’d miss clutching his biceps, feeling the taut muscle beneath his shirt, the way his dog tags slapped against your face as he pounded your cunt raw.
he delighted in the way he’d get to have you one last time, tonight. that at some point, the only thing warm in your body would be his cum, leaking out of that tight cunt of yours. even though you were stupid, he did have to admit that your willingness was something he adored. the way he could just fill you up at any time, and in any hole—you never complained.
he’d corrupted you, watched you bleed as his big cock stretched you out that first time. he loved the way your eyes swelled up with tears and you begged him to stop—‘it hurts, coryo!’ you had clawed your nails into his back. ‘too big!’—but he didn’t stop. he knew you had to learn to take it, and that you did. you had such low self-esteem, you would practically grovel at his feet everytime you so much as made him frown. you’d do anything for him, and that was the way he liked it.
complete control.
the cabin was warmer than the tender breeze outside, and you were so grateful to get in there, shivering in your little dress. coryo had dressed more appropriately, in his day clothes, and he watched as you shivered. god, you were so helpless.
he set his things down, and when you had laid down on the bed to rest your eyes for a while, bundled up in the ratty old blanket, he checked under the floorboards. there it was—one last gun, wrapped in a green cloth. if you tried to run, he’d use it on you. he’d deliberated over which way to kill you, which way wouldn’t damage that pretty little face of yours.
he thought that one simple shot to the chest would do it—it would be instant too. but he wanted to watch the life drain out of you, watch as you whined and begged for him to save you. watch how your brows would furrow and your eyes would grow wide with fear and realisation that you were just another loose end to him. he’d never loved you. he’d loved the control.
but coriolanus had also debated choking you out—maybe he wouldn’t remove his cock from your throat while he fucked it, and pinch the tip of your nose so you’d stop breathing. how pretty you’d look, trying to take his cock and at the same time, fight for your life. he’d shoot his hot load down your dead little throat once you’d stopped breathing. a reminder that you were his, and no one else’s.
no, he couldn’t let you live.
he shut the floorboards when he heard you stirring—you must’ve fallen asleep. how sweet. in a few hours you’d go to sleep one last time—but it would be an eternal slumber. he wanted nothing more than to bring you back to the capitol and make you his little whore—you couldn’t be his wife; think of the shame and embarrassment that would bring. but you could be at his every beck and call, be there to relieve any tension he had. it was just so unfortunate that he wasn’t allowed.
he’d put your body to rest with lucy gray’s, down in the lake to let your pearly white bones be the fishes’ dinner. he couldn’t bury you out in the woods; they’d find you there, one way or another. instead, he’d let them think you’d just disappeared. people disappeared out in the districts all the time. especially stupid little girls. who would care if a pathetic runt who took peacekeeper cock vanished? he doubted you had many friends, and your parents were both dead.
you wouldn’t be missed.
it was some time later that you woke, and your stomach grumbled. coriolanus was sitting in the rickety old armchair, carving what looked to be a spear with his pocketknife. you watched his muscular arms move back and forth as he stripped the stick of its bark. something about his strength made your thighs burn.
you got up, bare feet cold against the wooden floorboards, and peered into your bag. you’d made enough food for the evening; you had even splurged and gotten yourself a precious block of cheese. you figured it was only appropriate, what with it being your last night together and all.
he looked up from his makeshift weapon—though it wasn’t all that, really—and gave you an award-winning smile. your heart leapt at his sweetness. you couldn’t believe he wanted to spend one last night with you.
‘you’re so pretty, bunny,’ he remarked, watching as you laid out the food.
there was bread, a few flimsy butter knifes—you’d not be able to defend yourself with those; besides you were just so weak. you’d even snuck a bottle of wine at the market when the peacekeepers weren’t looking. you wanted it to be special, to send him off happy and thinking of you.
your chest twinged with a heavy sadness. you wished you could go with him, follow him to the capitol and maybe, stupidly, marry him. you wanted to be his forever. you’d give him lots of children and they’d have white-blonde hair and icy blue eyes. you’d make sure he was satisfied every day, and cook and clean and whatever he required of you.
but you were to remain here, in district 12. marry a man covered in coal who worked himself to the bone in the mines. have skinny little babies who starved from the lack of food, struggle tooth and claw just to put dinner on the table every night. your time with coriolanus had been your only taste of luxury, of richness. he’d told you how in the capitol, there were buildings that reached the sky, and that every night people would feast on the finest food from the districts. you were reminded, with your own hunger pangs, the sacrifice that you had to make.
no, you’d never be good enough for him. future president of panem.
‘coryo, come eat,’ you said, standing proudly beside your food which you’d laid out neatly on the table.
he obliged—he was hungry, after all. he’d not eaten since last night. the food looked tolerable too, and the bottle of wine tempted him to be more considerate. just so his little bunny wouldn’t be suspicious. he doubted you were clever enough to figure out his intentions anyways.
‘i hope you like it,’ you remarked meekly, sitting down beside him and beginning to devour the food.
he opened the bottle of wine, and although it was completely uncivilised, he took a large swig. it was terribly sour, not like the good stuff they had in the capitol. he reckoned you’d never even tasted real wine. how pathetic.
‘how lucky did i get, with my little bunny,’ he smiled, stroking your head fondly.
‘i’m the lucky one,’ you said in your saccharine tone. he wanted to roll his eyes—you were so sickeningly sweet. ‘you’ve been so good to me, coryo.’
‘yeah?’ he asked. he liked how much you sought to stroke his ego. it made his cock hard the way you were just so utterly desperate to please him in every manner.
‘mhm,’ you said, chewing on a piece of bread. the cheese made it taste so delicious; sweet and creamy.
‘does bunny like the way i always give her whatever she wants? fill her up with my cum just like she asks?’ he watched as your cheeks burned red with abashed shame.
‘coryo…’ you whined, pressing your thighs together.
he loved the way you were already squirming, just from the mention of being fucked. what a fucking slut. he bet you had soaked through your panties, just waiting from him to bury his cock deep inside you as you whined for him to go harder. he’d show you harder. perhaps he’d wrap his big hands around your tiny, little neck, and squeeze too hard. god, you’d look so pretty with the air sucked out of your lungs, gasping and panting as he filled you up one last time.
‘oh bunny, don’t tell me you’re wet already?’ he cooed, standing up from his chair.
whatever, he didn’t really need to eat anyways. he couldn’t possibly be hungry when he’d been feeding himself with the own sick ideas in his head. food could wait—he’d need to tend to his little bunny first.
you nodded dumbly, clenching your thighs as the slickness pooled in your panties. you couldn’t help it, it was your last night with coryo. you wanted him more than anything else, more than you ever had done before.
‘p-please,’ you whimpered pathetically.
‘does bunny want me to fuck her? make her cum?’ he laughed, stroking your smooth arm. you were so warm. so full of life.
‘mhm, yes,’ you moaned, slipping one hand between your thighs to rub at your aching clit.
seeing this, coriolanus yanked your hair, causing you to gasp and sputter. how dare you touch yourself? you were his! his to have and do as he pleased with! you felt a few tears spring to your eyes, and he laughed, seeing how stupid you looked, weeping because he pulled your hair. he wondered how much you’d cry when he squeezed at your airways; watching them constrict between his big hands.
‘you know my rules, bunny,’ he clucked his tongue in disapproval. you glanced up at him, his icy eyes singed with coolness.
‘i’m sorry, sir,’ you replied. that name made his cock stir. he couldn’t keep himself from devouring you for much longer.
he dragged you from the chair and shoved you down against the bed. you were giggling and gasping like a little fool—it made his blood boil. you wouldn’t be laughing when your heart pumped with its last beat and your legs went still.
‘be a good girl, bunny,’ he commanded, trapping one leg between your thighs to stop you from grinding against the mattress.
you watched as he unbuckled his pants—he was never one for dawdling, preferring to get straight to the point—and eyed his bulge hungrily. you wanted to use your mouth on him, feel him stretch your lips out and fuck your throat as you gagged on his length. you’d miss how big he was—so big that you often ached for days after he fucked you.
he cupped your chin in his hand again, and pressed a kiss to the corner of your jaw. he had no intention of being gentle with you, this final time. you were merely his to use for pleasure. a little fuckdoll to fill up with his cum.
you moaned as he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprang free. you would never get used to the sight of it—the huge, throbbing thing. you couldn’t wait to have him bury it inside of you, feeling it nudge against your most sensitive spots.
‘need you, coryo,’ you panted. ‘need you in me.’
you pulled your panties off, feeling your own slickness pressing at your inner thighs. coriolanus grabbed the base of his cock with one hand, and pushed you down against the bed with the other. he wanted to take you like this, so he could watch the life drain out of your eyes, one last time.
‘gonna fuck you so good, bunny,’ he mused, hiking your dress up and sighing at the sight of your wet cunt. he would miss it, he did have to admit. what a shame it wouldn’t get wet for him anymore in a few hours. but if he couldn’t have you, nobody could.
‘mhm,’ you gasped as he pressed the tip of his cock at your sopping entrance.
god, you were so pathetic. so wet for him, so fucking desperate for his cock. he knew you probably wouldn’t have even let anyone have you, after he left. but he couldn’t bear the thought that somebody could take advantage of you, coax you into their bed and let them bury their cock in you. no, your cunt was his only. nobody else could dare touch his bunny.
he groaned as he pushed himself all the way in, feeling your walls stretch around him. you were still so tight, even after all the abuse to your hole with his big cock, the way he stretched you out, you were still tight as the first time he’d had you. you didn’t complain as much anymore though, not like you had that first time—weeping for days after with the dull ache of being fucked.
coriolanus began to thrust, grabbing your hips with firm hands, bucking into you with lusty vigour. your tits bounced in your dress, and you couldn’t help but gasp and mewl each time his cock bucked into your tight hole. his cock throbbed, feeling you clench around him, the way you sucked him in with your slick want.
he’d never forget this night. the last time he’d have you. the way you were so utterly perfect.
‘taking me so well,’ he grunted, watching as you moaned at the pleasant feeling of his big cock burying itself deep inside you, brushing against your cervix.
‘harder,’ you gasped, clutching at the sheets. you wanted to know you were his.
coriolanus couldn’t resist this, of course. he wrapped your legs around his waist, and plunged himself deeper into you. his balls were slapping against your perineum now, and the cabin filled with the reverberation of skin against skin.
you kept gasping and begging as he drove himself into you. you could feel yourself edging closer—you’d been so wet the whole way here, you were soaking at the thought of him having you one last time.
it was beginning to piss him off, though, the way you were being so loud. normally, he loved it, your moans letting everybody know how well he was fucking you, branding you as his own with his cum. he wondered what you’d do if he choked you right now—would you attempt to run? if you did, he’d get that rifle and shoot you. he couldn’t risk having you running about district 12 when somebody else could get their hands on you.
no more loose ends, he reminded himself.
he reached his free hand out, caressing your cheek, and then trailing them down to your neck. you giggled as he wrapped his fingers around your neck—it was so little that his whole hand could fit you inside of it. he’d choked you before, and so you didn’t assume anything of it. he pressed lightly, and you let out a sigh, body humming with want.
‘good girl,’ he mused, pounding you with his cock at the same time.
you let out a pretty moan, pussy clenching just right around him; he couldn’t help but grunt at how pleasant it was. you’d probably still be tight for a few hours after he kills you. maybe he’d fuck you again, but you wouldn’t be warm, or wet. just cold. he decided against it. he’d fill you up with his cum just as the life drained out of your eyes.
he pressed harder, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. it hurts, and you glance up at him with a worried look, eyes stretching wide. he doesn’t pay heed to this, and merely keeps thrusting, moving your hips closer to his to hit at a new angle.
he saw your breathing go rapid, and your eyes dart about the room in panic. poor bunny. he really didn’t want to have to kill you, but you can’t be his forever, and how can he accept that? if you’re dead, you’re nobody’s but his. especially since he’ll fuck his cum deep into your stiffening body; you’ll have part of him in you forever.
he could hear the sounds of your vocal chords straining as he clasped tighter at your throat. it would be a shame that you’d be left with a rosy imprint of his fingers around your neck, but it made him smile a little, that you’d be branded with his mark until you rotted.
‘coryo!’ you whimpered, clawing at his chest.
‘shhh, be quiet, bunny. take my cock like a good girl,’ he murmured, slamming into you.
it hurt—the way he was crushing your neck, your tendons beginning to strain around his touch. it felt like there was no air left in the world; you were beginning to grow tired, your breaths haggard.
‘p-please,’ you felt tears spring to your eyes, and watched as he laughed, a maniacal grin creeping across his lips.
he shook his head, grunting as your walls contracted around his cock. he was so close, but you were being a bitch and taking too long to die. he clamped down on you harder, causing a gasp to escape your lips. you couldn’t speak—your hands were clawing about desperately, legs flailing about.
you were terrified—what was he doing?! why did he want to hurt you? just minutes ago he was telling you how much he wished you could come back to the capitol with him and be his wife. he wanted to dress you up like a pretty doll and make you grow fat with his children.
‘don’t cry, bunny,’ he laughed, watching as your legs stilled.
you were so tired. it felt like there was no blood in your legs; they grew stiff and numb. your head spun.
‘you’re all mine bunny, forever,’ he smiled as your body grew limp.
you were terrified—eyes beginning to lose their shine, lips trembling with fear. you couldn’t feel your arms now, or the way he was bucking into you. his thrusts were slower now—he was close. watching the life drain out of you made his blood course through his veins with a delicious speed.
you mouthed out a ‘why’ as your body went completely frail. in one last act of betrayal, your cunt gushed around him as he squeezed your neck; airways completely constricted. your lips were beginning to blue now, and he frowned—he had really liked how plump and red they were as you sucked him off.
coriolanus felt himself finish; cock shooting thick loads into your still-wet cunt. he couldn’t help but grunt as he spurted himself into your pretty hole. the way you’d finished just as your heart had stopped beating and your airways had given out. your final breath wasted on cumming. you really were a whore.
he ran his hands over your body, frowning at the ugly ring around your neck. at least he didn’t have to deal with your blood. that would’ve been so fucking messy. having to mop it up, and the way you would’ve screamed. at least you couldn’t scream when his hand was clamped around your neck.
when he pulled out, he watched with sick delight as his cum spilled out of your pussy. the thick, pearly loads trickled down your thighs. your limbs would be pliable and floppy for another two hours, but he couldn’t bring himself to fuck you again. that was too far, even for him.
he looked at your face, which was stretched into one of fear. your eyes were still, but wet with the tears. so were your cheeks—they still retained that innocent rosiness which he so loved.
he wished lucy gray had looked so pretty when he’d killed her. she’d screamed when his bullet pierced her chest cavity, and she’d bled all over his jeans as he’d held her. you were so docile, even in death. you’d given him one last thank you when you’d came, and he knew you’d be his forever.
darling, dearest, dead. the words rang clear in his head. he’d read them in an old novel. they were fittingly appropriate for the situation. it was so sad that he had to kill you, but it was a bitter and necessary pill to swallow. he had to return home to the capitol, marry that bitch livia cardew, and set his sights on what mattered most.
you were just a little doll he’d had his fun with on his summer vacation—you were just a poor district girl. what did you matter? nobody would miss you, and when he became president, nobody would know that he’d watched the life drain out of three pathetic girls.
that would be terrible for his image. he did what needed to be done. his pretty bunny would be his forever, and he’d secure his place in the world.
no more loose ends.
Our two Ariel’s ❤️
Eddie with black dancer s/o Hip Hop , Modern ect. And her struggles of being a black dancer
"Knock them dead."
Eddie Munson x Black!Reader
Author note: Hopefully, you enjoyed this, and sorry if this wasn't what you wanted also; I didn't know what you mean by modern, so my bad, I gave it a little bit of a twist yk; hopefully, this to your liking. (sorry for the long wait)
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞: Fluff and bits of angst(?)
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 936
*ೃ༄ You danced for hours, and your feet became sore, blisters forming on your feet; practicing for your debut show, you couldn't mess it up, not with the chance you got from the table.
Sweat poured from your body; you refused to give up; it wasn't in your will; you were going to master it and not even caring that your legs were going to collapse on you.
Your coils bouncing from your sudden moveth,
Your reflection bounced off the mirrors, mimicking your moveth, music booming from the boombox, and your shoes were almost worn out.
This was your chance to enter stardom, and you let anyone take that light from you, not on your watch, dreaming of being an idol of girls like you, of looking up to you as an inspiration, breaking the wall and barriers of socially and racial segregation.
Tired..that was the only thing in your mind, but you weren't going to rest; you heard the door open, and that was the only time you stopped and looked to see who it was in the studio.
You turned off the music and went to the door.
Eddie; he was standing there holding the water bottle you accidentally left while rushing to the studio.
"What are you doing here, ed?" you walked to him; even though your legs might just stop, you endured it.
"I'm here to give this back to you, Y/N." Eddie handed back your water bottle; you took it from his hand.
"Thanks!" there was a pause; it was a bit awkward, "Well, uh, it seems that you worked up a sweat," Eddie said; you chuckled at his comment, "I guess so,"
Another pause came in, "Well, uh, I going to head back-" you reached for his hand.
"N-no, please stay, Eddie, with me here in the studio." you pulled him back.
"Is everything okay, Y/N" Eddie gently cupped your face; when he said that to you, you tried to keep yourself composed, but even you those words hit something inside of you, some sort of vulnerable, turned you into a crying mess.
Tears stained your face, rolling down your cheeks; you couldn't keep them in anymore; you couldn't hide your problems, especially when you were in them.
"I-I'm sorry," you muttered; Eddie didn't even respond to you; he hugged you, your face gently hitting his face, your salty tears staining his shirt.
Your heavy breathing echoed the room; Eddie hugged you tightly and kissed your head, "You know, can talk me, Y/N,"
"It's just I don't feel good enough and don't I'm strong enough to endure everything that is going on, E-Eddie, I'm sorry-" your sentence was cut off by Eddie kissing you with reassurance, "I know you're trying your best, Y/N, but don't over exert yourself trying, okay... your too important to me" Eddie hugged you tightly.
After that was a comfortable silence, "You should rest; you look like you are tired, babe."
"No, I have to," Eddie's finger pressed to your lips to motion you to stop talking, "Nonsense, some rest won't hurt you, Y/N."
"I guess so," you muttered.
You left the studio with Eddie and went to his trailer; you were currently on his bed laying on his lay, him playing with your hair, as you voiced your problems to him; he was a really understanding guy, and you were thanking god that you met him, and he was your own boyfriend, people were wrong about him being a freak, he's just a guy getting through life.
"I-i feel like I won't do good at all." you looked up to see his face.
"Babe, you're the Y/N Sinclair, you can do anything you want, and I believe in what you do" Eddie held your face and nuzzled it.
"Thank you, Ed, for being with me" you got up from his lap and hugged him enjoying his warmth and presence, wishing you could stay like that together with him.
╰┈➤ A Few days later
It is the day of your recital. The day you were practicing your ass for, the day to show them all what you can do.
You were in your costume, breathing in and out, a bit hesitant about the outcome.
Fiddling your thumbs, thinking about everything, your heart was beating out of your chest, butterflies in your stomach.
You opened the curtain slightly, looking at the people in the crowd and the judges; seeing your family made you feel better, but you were still anxious.
You felt a sudden tap on your shoulders; you flinched to see it was Eddie, but how did he get backstage.
"Eddie, you scared me" you rush to hug him; you were glad he was here, there to support you.
"You thought I would miss your dance performance, princess" he hugged you back and kissed your face.
"I'm so glad you're here, Ed!" you smiled with glee.
"2 mins to showtime, Y/N," one of the directors yelled.
With Eddie here, you were less anxious than before, but you had to perform; you were tense.
Eddie held your face; you were looking at him, "Y/n, you're going to do great, and I know you're going to do great, and rock that fucking dance floor." Eddie kissed you on the forehead and looked at you.
You looked at him with awe, taken back at his words, "I will," before you walk to your position.
"..And Y/N," he yelled at you; you glanced back at him
"Knock them dead," he smiled; it seems you just needed that boost to surge your confidence.
This was definitely going to be a core memory.
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