Latest Posts by tonixe - Page 2

if u saw anything, no you didn't

I HATE TUMBLR GRR

I saw you were looking for The Boys requests. Please I beg of you ANYTHING between Firecracker and reader. She’s so beautiful and I need to be with her so bad! Literally anything you want to write. It’s just that NO ONE has written for her!!

♱ — country girl — ♱

A/N: Thank you for ur request, I also agree, nobody is writing about Firecracker, our country girl needs some love <3.

WARNING: cursing, tw: abortion, firecracker as a person, tw: tek knight, this might be crackfic sorry.

PAIRING: firecracker x reader

WORD COUNTER: 974

It was so boring at the Tek's Knight party, you were mindlessly taking glasses of alcohol served on a platter to guests that attended, mostly the room filled with important, rich, people of America.

Like you want to be here with these superficial assholes and fucking racists, you had better thing than to be here in this party but you were forced to attend. Most of the members of the seven were here, including you. Here you are, in a party filled with old people who controlled the country, you looked up at the seemingly staring Tek Knight portrait that was on display, "Creepy" You muttered, before you gulped down the content in the glass, swiftly placing it on the waltzing waiter passing by.

It was going to be a while till you were able to leave the party. It was an event where people were the best dressed and for you, the best dress was your costume, shut up and stay still while people talked to you, talking about nonsense and political matters you didn't care about.

You just nodded with a smile.

Tap your fingers on your glasses, looking for anything that can occupy your time. It wasn't the worst, free high-quality alcohol was being served, and interesting-looking food was being served around the party. You looked around the room of guests, and your eyes quickly landed on Homelander, Sage, and Neuman. You quirked your eyebrows at the scene, before taking a sip of the champagne in your glass.

"Hm," You exhaled, swirling the liquid in your glass. The sound of heels clicking on the floor took your attention. You looked up from your cup to see Firecracker walking by you, you didn't get to know a lot about her only to know that she was involved in pageants, hate Starfire maybe a pedophile. You kept your eye on her with amusement as she walked toward the group of supes.

You were way too curious about how the interaction was going to play out, especially with her introduction, it was almost comical.

Everyone in the group just stared at her awkwardly, it was all truly funny and made you laugh a bit. Then Sage dismissed her straight, I guessed it was something snarky towards her. You watched her as walked away quickly, it looked like she was upset about what Sage said. "Trailer trash, huh?" You gulped down your maybe 10th glass of the night and placed it on the walking waiter's tray before you strode to the dessert table.

You recognize the greeting butler of the house taking the cake. “Hey, are you going to take that?" You asked the butler holding the chocolate cake in his hand. "Yes, Miss H/N" He stated, “Would you like a slice?” He questioned, “No, actually I’ll take the whole cake” You shot him a smile, grabbing the cake from him. “Thanks for being such an American patriot” you exclaimed before you walked out to follow Firecracker.

You stepped out of the room where the party guests were. You followed Firecracker, you wanted to keep your steps as silent as possible maybe to surprise her a bit, maybe this was a bit creepy, a little at least. You hid behind one of the white columns, hearing the door behind her close with a 'click' sound.

You stepped out into the hallway, with the cake in hand. You paused for a moment when you reached the door. Before putting your ear near the door to hear sniffing coming from her you backed away. You hesitated to knock, so you just waited on the side of the door until she opened up.

Propping yourself up on the wall, it was a couple of minutes until she opened the door. It was evident she was crying with her tear-stained cheek and the reddening of her irises. Bounced off the wall, "God were you crying, you look like shit" You said bluntly, her brows furrowed when she heard the comment escaping you.

"Shit, my bad, cake?" You prominently offered the cake to her, she looked at it and then at you, "Is this a joke?" She said with her strong accent shining through as she spoke.

Narrowed her eyes at you.

"No, actually this was from the good of my heart, I saw the exchange between you and you know sage?' You said you heard her groan as you talked.

"So, are you going to tell me to drink Everclear or SunnyD" She exclaimed.

"Of course not, I was going to tell you to drink some Dr. Pepper and Jack Daniel" You grin at her smugly,

She furrowed her brows more, you got her pissed, "Jokes" You put up your free hand defensively, "But seriously, I saw you upset and what better way to calm down than with cake, especially chocolate cake" You grinned pointing at the chocolate cake in your hands.

"What in god green earth would make you think I would eat cake with you" She crossed her arms, "Geez if you put it that way...I just wanted to support a friend in need, since you are part of the seven, you know..so cake?" You offered her again before she looked at you and the cake.

"Fine"

..

"You know Sage is like a slithering snake, I just should known" Firecracker grumbled, taking a spoonful of cake and shoving it in her mouth, you hummed in agreement.

"The whole thing with the show and live cast with the starlight bullshit, should of fucking know" Firecracker finished,

"How did you...I mean she even gets information about Starlight abortion?" You asked, stabbing your fork in a piece of cake, Firecracker just shrugged it off, "I mean you took those punches like a champ" You said bluntly, Firecracker glared at you.

"Hey Y/N" You turned towards her,

"What?"

"Fuck you"

POV: you try to join the mean girls (you're firecracker)

@everyone:

I'm sorry but why the hell was episode 6 so...𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂?

THE BOYS 4.06 "Dirty Business"

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their stage names, either."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple. Something easy, yet not so simple.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

Did I do this right 🤌

♱ — dolor — ♱

A/N: Hey guys, I'm back with a new fic, yes I was gone for like 5 months or 3 or smth. This idea was inspired by @sinclairdoll, and his idea, here! I#bringbacktheoldnoir

WARNING: angst, sad, tw!new noir.

PAIRING: Black Noir x reader

WORD COUNTER: 865

Life was never normal after he died, you really didn't get it. Tears filled up your lashline, as you started sniffling to yourself. Your eyes staring at the photo in your hand, I mean you two were supposed to be together forever, that is what he wrote to you. Giving you sticky notes with his cute cartoony character drawn on the bottom.

You tried to hide your smile from him and ultimately failed, as your lips spread into a grin. You loved it when he drew you pictures, especially of those old Vought cartoons, you always collected every single note or picture, displaying and saving them away. But it was never the same, on the fateful day, it wasn't like it was raining, or something bad╼or maybe there was.

You would always share your feelings and opinions with Noir, voice out your deepest secrets or what was bothering you. You would have thought you did the same for him, well you tried. He was always quiet around you, I mean I guessed he couldn't help it with everything that happened to him. You thought you would live your life with him, but I guess faith had other things in mind.

There weren't any cards or a funeral for him. It was all under the wraps, just how Vought liked it. I mean being a Vought employee yourself, you would understand, no?

You saw it yourself, no secondhand point of view to see it with you. You watched with horrified, shock maybe in disbelief, watching him die. You weren't supposed to be there, nobody was supposed to be there. But you saw everything, Homelander just viciously ripping out his intestine, it was a nightmare, you wanted it to end, maybe stop him. If you did you would just be another part of the collateral damage, but you kind of wished you did do something, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you were able to be with Noir.

When he died, it felt like something you died with him, maybe your morale, your laughter, your hope...gone, it was all gone.

Time passed by you, days turning into weeks, piecing your life together but all grief consumed you whole, you were in a spiral that you didn't want to come out of, a deep depression, that all you could of though of was your past, what you could do to stop him, maybe if you stopped him from leaving you, leaving your apartment, he would have been here with you.

You looked at the ceiling with a blank stare,

But soon or later you were able to leave that dark place you were in, though the pain was still in your heart and panged. You couldn't wish for him back, it was too painful to even think about him without breaking down.

Walking down the halls of the unforsaken building you worked at, you hated, you didn't really know why you were still here. You grumbled to yourself as you walked, fixing the hems on your shirt cuffs until your eyes set themselves on a familiar person.

You were surprised by the revelation.

You wanted to cry, maybe yell, or just jump. You looked in disbelief as the very man you loved walked by you, no hug, no talking, no..nothing. Your heart yearned for anything from him, you were still shocked at how he was still alive.

You watched Black Noir, Earving die in front of your eyes, maybe it was some time of miracle. You felt your throat getting dry, your eyes watering up, and your mind was torn. By the time you knew it, you were already walking toward him, not running toward him.

"Black Noir" You called, you watched as Noir turned towards you. You felt your tears dripping down your cheeks, and you stopped in front of him. "Do I know you?" Your eyebrows furrowed, as you listened to his voice, no way..he talked. I mean he never talked in front of you or around you, maybe he was healed in some way to start talking again,

But your heart panged at the unfamiliar words he used to greet you, "You..talk?" You stammered, "You know whatever, do you remember me, Y/N" You cracked a smile in the joy that it was really happening, tears welling up in your eyes again.

You heard the man you thought was Noir curse under his breath, which confused you a bit, "Sorry, ma'am I don't think I know you" He stammered, you were able to grab his hand before he was able to walk away from you, "Please, just try to remember" You whispered, your voice breaking, you were already a mess, tears escaping you.

He quickly shook his head and took your hands off his arm, before he walked away from you, leaving you a mess on the floor.

It was cruel, a cruel twist of fate, you felt like the ground was ripped out from beneath you, it wasn't fair. You struggled to process everything that led you to this point in life, it was complete utter torment to your mind and your heart.

Your tears dribbled down from your cheek onto the floor, you didn't even process the fact you were crying.

You were alone...

heartbroken,

—and crying on the floor to yourself.

@everyone:

🧿: BYE, why is nobody talking about this scene? LMAO A-TRAIN FACE, HELP THE GIRL IN THE END, LOOKING AT HER DAD IS HILARIOUS. LMAOO I FUCKING LOVE THIS SHIT.

you can’t sit with us

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.

i don't think i will be finishing this one augh 🥺

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

Bye, I just realized I spelt soldier wrong 💀..this is embarrassing. 😭

@everyone:

Who wants to request any 'The Boys' fics from me <3 💫🌠

Freaky ahh a-train 😭💀💀

Ass vs Tits ft. The Boys + The Seven

CW: NSFW no minors/ageless blogs!!! Also The Deep. Light spoilers, no beta

WC: 193

They love your ass, no question about it. They love watching the way your ass recoils from a slap, whether it's while you’re on all fours and arched for them, or if you’re just picking up something from the floor. That quote “hate to say goodbye but love to see you go?” Yeah, these guys are the definition, always watching how your ass moves as you walk. 

BUTCHER, Kimiko, Frenchie, Victoria Neuman, Queen Maeve, Black Noir II, Firecracker, Ashley, Sister Sage. 

Tits. No matter the size, they’re obsessed, always sneaking glances (or just straight-up staring) at your chest whenever they can. The obsession gets worse the lower the neckline and the tighter the fit is. Any time you’re alone, they’re nipping, sucking, and kissing your chest until you're moaning and squirming under them.

Starlight, Hughie, HOMELANDER, The Deep, Black Noir I, Soldier Boy, MM, Ashley (again), Joe Kessler.

Tits again, but they tell you for a different reason. They don’t want to reduce you to physical traits, they are in love with you and your personality. But your heart is right between your tits, right?

MM.

They say tits, but deep down they want someone with gills.

The Deep.

Feet. 

A-Train.

Made some alternative signs ^^ he loves you ALL

@everyone:

Hey guys! I'm not dead...

but it is clear to see that I haven't been posting on Tumblr as of recently, I have been mostly on a03, writing some silly fanfic there and posting there.

So yeah, I'm lowkey back in my stranger things era, isn't that crazy. ( BTW it's season 2/3) but I'll be back posting soon, after finals...hopefully

Anyone else see this art by @/yunonoai on twitter and tiktok

Holy moly, how the heck did this get 1000 reblogs.

@everyone P.s. I'm not dead

Young Cornelius Snow is so hot, like lemme suck ur dick. 😼 **meow meow

Currently watching the movie rn, and so far it's so good. they ate with this one. 🤩🤩

the movie black swan is a masterpiece <3

malignant —- adjective. disposed to cause harm, suffering, or distress deliberately; feeling or showing ill will or hatred.

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 -—- ♱

Coriolanus has a big jealousy problem, every time you talk to other men even the ones he knows, he gets jealous really fast, imagine mid-conversation with a stranger he pulls you and mutters an 'excuse me' as he drags you off.

Starts fighting with you that your cheating on him, calling you a slut and a whore for talking to men other than him. You just say that he's just a friend or someone you knew, and he wouldn't believe you, and drag you off to the washroom.

Coriolanus who really rough on you—when he's fucking you, grabbing your hair, and ripping you out of your dress. Just him hatefucking you, you're not even enjoying it just your screams falling death to his ears. The screams echo throughout the manor, even the maids and Butler hearing your useless pleas.

Coriolanus is cold, He wouldn't even care about your battered body, his hands gripping onto your waist, marking your body. Now, Coriolanus is never rough with you or hits you, but when he's jealous, he can't help it...you just have to brace for impact; His hands harshly gripping your chin, as he lowers his head towards, his blue eyes staring into yours, and tears couldn't help but to fall out from the induced pain you have been through. His cruel words come out of his mouth, calling you a slut or a whore. Your lips are bitten up, and tears dripping down from your cheeks.

If he's really mad at you it's face down, ass up. His hands smack the plush of your ass, as you scream his cock slipping in and out of you. His hands forcefully burying your face into the mattress, making you almost suffocate. He knew that you deserved the punishment, his wife couldn't be whoring herself around. He finishes himself inside of you, just for his cum dripping out of you mixing with your blood.

He might forgive you if just take it, but he'll never take his eyes off of you...ever

Coriolanus who needs an heir! Imagine if Coriolanus wants to have a baby, he would make it keen to you, though you didn't feel ready to have a copy of you and Coriolanus running around.

The many sacrifices you would have to make, and Coriolanus just doing the bare minimum...didn't sit right with you. Always saying no, or ignoring it, making him get angry by the second.

One day you were just tending to the manor, fixing your skirt, and then a rushing maid, came up to you with a scared expression on her face, her mouth muttering out words, "Coriolanus, want you at his office, my lady" she looks at you in fear, her body trembling. You nodded, walking down the empty manor, your heels stepping down on the delicate floors, leading to the desolate, ominous-feeling office awaiting your presence to him. Your hands on the golden handle, opening up the Roman panel doors.

With the click of the door, as you opened to Coriolanus already examining you,

You felt like prey to a predator. You didn't want to close the door, feeling an uneasy sensation in your stomach, closing the door. "You called," you remarked, You couldn't help but look away from him. You felt alarms going off in your head, your conscious warning you of what was going to come, and the next thing that happened, was your body on the bare floor, your dress hoisted up as Coriolanus thrust into you, tears staining your vision, "Your going to be a wonderful mother" his haunting words echoing in your head, during the assault.

Coriolanus abused your body with his touch, fucking himself into you and pumping his come right after, making sure you were going to pregnant with his heir. Even if it meant him tracking your cycle and knowing when you ovulate

Coriolanus who wants an heir so badly! making sure he throws out all of your birth control pills, making sure that his sacrifices don't go to waste, and that all your movements are being tracked by the staff and peacekeepers.

Coriolanus's plan worked! looking at your now round and big belly carry his children! He would be so delighted, though you always had a scared expression etched on your beautiful face when you saw him, especially when you delivered the news to him

But you would have never known what he did for this to happen, it wasn't for your pretty little head to think about, no?

That's right it wasn't for your head to think about at all!

I’ve been trying to figure out who your pfp is for days now

I know who she is I am just blanking so hard on a name it’s bothering me😭

It's Caroline Polacek, the photo is from her album, "Desire, I Want to Turn Into You".

Do you ever think you'll do another one shot of Coriolanus? And mistress and government hooker one? Like when the reader is pregnant 🤰

Maybe, im not sure yet but sorry for not answering sooner!

✢ Hot Secretary

A/N: Thank you, guys, for 883 votes, I am so surprised how many votes were cast in the polls. Sorry for the fic taking so long, and also make sure to drink water. <3

WARNING: p in the v, unprotected sex, cheating, oral sex implied, creampie, affairs. [may be deemed as dark content]

PAIRING: President! Coriolanus Snow x secretary! reader

WORD COUNTER: 1.8k

+ TAGS: @wildcatglove13

Working for President Snow wasn't an easy task or job. You had to make sure that the president was on top of his tasks and ran errands for him, after all, he was running a country of Panem. A large population that needed dot be governed by someone with good skills and attributes such as President Snow.

It came with copious amounts of paperwork and documents that needed to be filled, checked, and printed. And aside from the tedious amount of labor, the pay checked out.

But lucky for you, you managed to land the job. It wasn't a brainer to impress your employer with someone of your talent and skill. You were currently sitting at your desk, your well-manicured nails typing down onto the keyboard, reading as you wrote.

Black letter filling out the blank white document in front of you. Along with exceptional skills, you also have the upper hand with your attractiveness, curvaceous silhouette, and beautiful face, though it is always stained with a serious expression. Your eyes were hidden underneath your Bayonetta glasses, reflecting the light of your computer. On top of it, you always wore a prim, proper white collar shirt, that was almost always 'too tight' holding your chest and wrapping perfectly over your stomach.

Leather pants that hugged your ass, and a stiletto on your feet. It was mostly the part that made him hire you, your looks.

Your hair was always perfectly styled and brushed. You were too busy typing away at the computer, the clicking of the keys ringing in your ears. Your beauty tends to seize Coriolanus' attention, his eyes focus on your meticulous form, if it wasn't your face, it was your bosom in your tight shirt. He would always see a strict expression on your face along with a cold demeanor, coming into his office, and delivering important documents with a monotone voice.

You would always catch him looking when you turned yourself around or picked up papers, his eyes getting a better look at your ass in your tight leather pants. You weren't dumb or too oblivious to take account of his actions, you simply disregarded them.

Simply minding your business as you made yourself busy. You worked for the Snows for about a few months now, knowing the marital problems faced by President Snow and the First Lady were hidden from the public. You learned and noted the habits of Mr.Snow cheating on the first lady, Livia Cardew. She knew as well too, but you only ignored it, it wasn't a surprise knowing that the whole marriage was arranged, but you couldn't help to have a little altruism when you overheard her crying.

But you minded your business walking away, the sounds of your heels clicking on the delicate tile floor. After all, it wasn't your job to know or advise... You were a secretary, not a therapist.

It was a regular day, clocking into the Snow's household, walking around and checking in the employees, with a clipboard in your hand, making note of certain things. Coriolanus from afar gazed at you, ignoring the wedding band on his finger, which he carelessly wore, examining at your body in the skirt you wore. The thoughts of temptation ran through his mind.

Hearing the sound of shoes on the floor, looking to the side, "Mr.President" You greeted formally, "L/N " he responded back, before stopping at your side, "Are there any updates?" He asked, "No, Sir" You looked up at him, before looking down at the clipboard. He leaned towards your ears, "I need you in my office" he whispered, and you nodded, your eyes flickering back at the emoplyees you were once speaking to. Before putting the clipboard between your arms, and following him.

Your heels clicked on the flooring as you walked into the office, standing near his desk, and you watched him close the door behind him, sitting down in front of you. "You called, Sir?" you questioned, "Yes, I did" He respond, "I just wanted to congratulate you— ..and your work here" he began talking, "Thank you, sir" you responded to the compliments nonchalantly.

"Y/N" he glance at your standing figure, "Yes, sir?" you answered,

"Do you have a significant other" he questioned, you felt your cheeks getting red at the personal question making Coriolanus chuckle from your antics. You cleared your throat, "No sir, why?"

He got up and circled around you, you watched.

"I was just wondering—the way you dressed seemed like you had someone you were waiting for" he mumbled, you pursed your lips.

Standing in the center of the office, before feeling his body leaning over your backside, feeling his hard-on on your ass. Parting your lips, you eyed as his hand covered yours, his breath tickling your ears.

"Did you think I wouldn't get distracted with you in that skirt" He whispered, he started grinding himself on your ass. "Sir-" you mumbled, his hands fondling your body, his teeth nipping your skin, slowly bending you over on the desk.

"President Snow-" you panted, feeling yourself getting wet underneath your clothing. His finger was dangerous getting closer to your panties, "Get on the desk" He said, before withdrawing, feeling the weight of him off your body. As you obeyed getting on top of the desk, your skirt hiking up your thighs. His hands splayed on your thighs, before pushing you down onto the desk, raising your legs up in the air.

You felt the weight of his eyes on your body, your ears ringing out the sounds of your tights tearing, revealing your damp panties. Before he yanked it off, the cool air of the office hit your cunt, a moan slipping out from your lips.

"President-" you whimpered, "Call me Coriolanus, dove" the sound of his belt unbuckling made you weak. You peek down at the bulge in his boxers. "Coriolanus, please" You mewl, "I didn't know the secretary was a little slut" He teased, rubbing the back of your thighs, pushing them against your chest. Before taking out his cock from his boxer, looking away from the lewd scene.

Slapping his cock on your pussylips, you whimpered. "Your fucking desperate aren't you" he laughed at your miserable display, your cheeks red, your hands on the backside of your thighs, raising your legs up into the air. He wanted to take a picture of your erotic display. He slid his cock into you, pushing himself deep into your pussy. You bent your back at the pain recoiling in your system. His cock stretches you open, biting your lip at the pain.

His hips smacked into yours, his cock massaging your inner walls, his animalistic pace, as his cock bullies itself into your cunt. God, the way you looked underneath him looked like it was straight from porno, it made Coriolanus smile at the sight.

A once serious and reserved women, crumbling under his touch.

Coriolanus fingers popping the buttons of your collar shirt, revealing your black bra underneath the light layer. His hands massaging your mounds, the very ones that tempt him underneath your tight collar shirt. Moaning from the single touch as he rubs your peaks harshly, forcing his cock into as he snapped his hips into you.

His hands gripping on your jaw, forcing you into a kiss. Feeling his tongue exploring your wet cavern, moaning against his assault.

Locking your legs around his waist, feeling yourself slipping into the pleasure. Your eyes heavy, the temperature of your body rising. Gripping your fingers on the edge of the wooden desk, feeling yourself coming undone. Your ears perking up at the groans slipping from his lips, his hands holding the sides of your stomach, snapping his hips into you.

"Wait—" you yelped, feeling him emptying himself inside you, the warm liquid painting your walls white. Before he pulled out of you, his cock coated mixed cum.

You cringe at the sticky sensation between your thighs, as his cum dripping from you. Looking between your legs at the sticky mess, "Fuck" Coriolanus muttered, his eyes flickering to your limp display as he tucked himself into his briefs. He smoothed out his hair, before throwing you a was of cash. "Buy some birth control pills, I don't want another one running around" he groans.

You weren't lying if you said you were shocked but only nodded to his words, and got up from the desk. The cum leaks out as you slip your panties on and your skirt. You wondered how many women he did that to, not just you, fixing up the buttons to your top and walking out of his office. Though days from the incident, you still worked and completed papers, still typing away on the screen in front of you, but time again it happened.

More times than he buried himself into you, fucking you on his desk or between his legs sucking on his cock with your plump lips.

He would leave little gifts on top of your desk, with expensive jewelry inside, with a letter from him. Opening a letter with your manicured nails with dainty words from him and faux promises inside, even if you were to accept his words, it wouldn't be possible because of his wife. Putting the letter face down and staring at the gift bag with the luxurious brand etch on it.

You plainly ignored it, going back to daily tasks. And time again when you went out with Coriolanus to satisfy his pleasure, it would be meeting at one of his expensive penthouses or a lavish hotel, it was the same thing, time and time again, with him on you and touching you in places a married man shouldn't do to other women. It wasn't a surprise being Coriolanus's little secretary and him screwing up during hours or after. The affair wasn't hidden from the employees inside the Snow's manor, and it wouldn't be a surprise that the First Lady knows it.

But more of a surprise if she confronts her husband about his infidelity.

Looking at the computer screen you typed away, your ears perking up at the sound of heels on the tile floors, the steps echoing and bouncing around the walls of the west side of the manor. Looking up at the sound, you weren't surprised by the appearance of the First Lady. "Mrs Snow " you greeted blankly. An expression of fear, anger, and disgust printed on her face, "Where is the president?" She asked holding her hands to herself, "He's in a meeting" You answered, the answer seemed like something she wasn't looking for.

"I'll tell him that you came to see him—"

"No..he isn't in a meeting is he?" you heard her voice getting louder and enraged at every word that came out of her lips, "The President doesn't like anyone knowing where he is, he enjoys his privacy" You answered her coolly,

"He probably fucking one of his whores—and you are one too, aren't you, Y/N" You finally stopped typing and lifted your eyes from the computer screen, "Like I said, Mrs Snow, the president like his privacy.." you fully looked at the teary women in front of you,

"-And I prefer not to tell you about mine—I'll tell him that you stopped by, Mrs. Snow" The sentence leaving your lips was the final nail of the coffin for her, as she broke down onto the floor, her wails echoing around the manor. You stared at her weepy form before you called maids to escort her away, you wouldn't lie to say you did feel bad for her.

But you are just Coriolanus's little secretary nothing else, not a counselor, or an advisor just a cumdump for him and only him.

You squeezed your thighs feeling his warm cum leaking out from you as you stared at the First Lady getting escorted in front of you.

only his cumdump...and nothing else

ok this may be a dumb question but do u mind explaining what a mudpie is? I looked on urban dictionary but I’m still not super sure 🩷

It is another word for a creampie.

Hiya babes hope you’re doing well I’ve had this idea for a young Coriolanus Snow where he’s fresh into his presidency and runs into a maid in his room putting his clothes away. He thinks it’s just some avox but it turns out to be and old classmate (she was in the grade a year younger than but he’d seen her passing in the halls and she came from quite a respectable lineage). He becomes infatuated by her and why she’s working for him and not living some life of luxury, it becomes months worth of cat and mouse where Coryo tries to buy her love with gifts and she tries to stay strong. But finally she gives in and they start an affair (he isn’t married it’s just he wouldn’t want to be caught dead having a relationship with a servant girl). Normal he just tells her he wants to see her and that night they do an assortment of nefarious things, but one night he asked her to say instead of kicking her out like he usually does. She thrown off by this and after a little hesitancy she agrees.

So that’s all I really have feel free to make the rest up, but also don’t feel obligated to write about this it’s just something that’s come to my mind. I didn’t mean for this to be so long sorry. Love you loads hope you have the best of days and I hope you’ll find inspiration from this prompt. Okay kisses and hugs this is me signing off.

— Dirty little secret

WARNING: Unprotected sex, implied mudpie, fingering, implied affair, groping.

PAIRING: President!Coriolanus Snow x maid!reader

WORD COUNTER: 1.8k

Days for Coriolanus seemed to tick on longer than he bargained after getting elected and inaugurated to the office of Panem. Being the President of Panem wasn't a joke, nor did it have any time to just sit around, he was a busy man with a country behind him and leading the future of his people and generations. It was tiring for him, sometimes he would just accidentally sleep in his office rather than go to his bedroom. After piles of documents and papers were placed on his desk, finding more time to complete them if he locked himself away in his office.

On top of that, he had to make speeches and host future events. He just didn't have any time for self-pleasure with all the work on his desk, but he was dutiful and a studious worker. He did his usual routine after finalizing some paperwork and handing it off to his secretary to press. Dragging his feet against the delicate and pleasant tiles, tiredness drowned his vision, as he opened the door of his chamber spotting a dainty maid in his room. Your eyes widen at the sight of the President in front of you, immediately bowing down, before lifting your head slightly up. "Mr. President, I was just delivering your clothes" You curtsy at him, Coriolanus originally thought you were just an avox until you spoke, but now a mere maid hired by his secretary but once he got a glimpse of your face, a flash of simple memory ran through his mind. You started taking steps away from him trying to get away from the brewing tension, "Stop" You turned your body to him, looking at him with your full attention.

The sounds of the heel of his shoes on the bedroom flooring, feeling his soft hands on your jaw, slowly lifting your head up, taking in the scene of you. You held your breath as he simply inspected you, feeling your heart pumping against your chest. His azure eyes stared into your own, for a moment..before he withdrew his hands away from you. "You may go" he finished, you watched as he turned his body away from you before you scurried out of the bedroom.

But Coriolanus couldn't help but look back at you as you ran away, the sense of familiarity when he saw you was haunting his head. He pondered about it, putting his hand underneath his chin as he thought about you. The passing days were just Coriolanus watching you as you worked around the manor, his eyes never leaving your form. He managed to gather some information on you, by looking through your files, after all, he is the President of Panem it's his job to know everything, right?

His hands flipped through the dainty white pages, your headshot on the first page as he read through the private information, finding out that you were from Capitol blood, and ended up in the depths of middle class maybe even lower instead of luxury. Curiosity filled his mind about you, questions flowing through his mind with no answer to them. "What really are you..Y/N" he whispered under his breath, examining the photo of you. Most of these days were now mostly spent with him staring at you doing chores around the household, hanging up laundry, washing clothes, and cleaning the floors.

He likes how you laugh and smile when talking to your co-workers while you work. Every time he sees your smile, it makes some of his problems melt away, if he is stressed, he completely forgets what he was stressed about. He would purposely order you to his room to clean or arrange something in his office. Over a few months passing, he would continue asking for you, so adding little gifts and necklaces. For you, it was a surprise, certainly. Who expects the President of Panem to gift a simple maid a luxurious, expensive necklace, priced at a high price, more than you get paid. So you would send them off, at first you were confused thinking it was a mistake he sent the luxurious package to you, then it was sent back to you, this time a different gift, more beautiful and elegant. So you sent it back again, he began to be more curious and furious why you didn't keep and accept the gifts he sent, were they too ugly, an eyesore or indifferent to you.

So he orders you to his room...

It was the middle of the night, being pulled out of the servant quarters by the headmistress, ordering you to serve Coriolanus, and you obeyed. Your body is still engulfed in your flimsy nightgown and your flats on the floor of the manor, as you walk down the hallways. You opened the door to Coriolanus still in his attire, leaning on the bedframe. His eyes darted at you. "Mr. President, you requested of me" You held your hands together, looking him in the eyes. You hear his footsteps inching closer to you, his hands on his hips, "Do you hate them?" he asked, his eyes never leaving your frame, cocking your eyebrow, confused about what he was asking you.

"Hate, what, Sir?" you questioned, "The gifts" he walked closer to you, "Do you hate them, Y/N?" he looked at you, his eyes attentively staring at your own e/c. You felt sweat pending up on the palm of your hand as you began to clear your throat, "No—I just thought you sent them by mistake, sir" You said, you looked away from him, feeling flustered at how close he was to you. 'Y/n, do you think I'm an idiot to send something three things to the same person?" He gently lifted up your chin, making direct eye contact with you. "N-no, sir!" You exclaimed, "Then why, my sweet dove?' he questioned, "What have I done to deserve them" You mumbled,

"Every time I saw you, you have been pulling the strings to my heart..." He whispered, his deep voice resonating through your body, sending chills down your spine, you were hesitant to respond to him. The few moments of silence were unbearable, it felt like his eyes were tracking your every move. "Would it, not be improper for you to date a servant woman like me?" You murmur, and he immediately takes your face into his hands, "I will trade all of Panem just to have you in my arms" You parted your lips, staring at him in shock. Before he took your lips, kissing you. His hands touched against your skin, making you whine, his fingers slowly taking off the strings of your sheer nightgown. Immediately the cold air hits your bare skin making you moan, his hand trailing against your sides. He withdrew from your lips, his eyes clouded with lust, his pupils dilated. "W-we can't", looking away from him in embarrassment, trying to cover yourself up from his gaze.

He picked you up by your thighs, immediately putting your arms around his neck. He carried you towards the bed, dropping you onto the mattress, you instantly tried to cover yourself until he ripped your hands away as he stared at you beneath him. He took off your panties, slowly, his eyes staring at your slick coating your panties off, making you flustered. He started taking off his belt, you watched as he took his trousers off along with his boxers. His length springs out, pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock, feeling yourself getting wet underneath him. His eyes were heavy with lust, impatiently to have you, taste you, and fuck you.

He slowly inserts himself into you, a moan being ripped out of your throat, holding him by his biceps. "Itis' too big" you groaned. You tried to adjust yourself around his cock, you bit the bottom of your lip simmering the pain. Before he started moving, his pelvis smacked into your cunt as your breast bounced in impact.

You pushed your head back in pleasure as he forced himself into you, he groaned into your ear. "You're taking me so well, dove" he whispered, kissing your collarbone. The sound of wet skin clapping resonating around the bedroom, his hands moving around your body, rubbing the nipples of your breast, moaning in response. "Your so warm" he groaned, moving his hips against you, you felt yourself inching near your release.

He place your leg onto his shoulder, moving your body to the side as he thrusted inside, feeling his cock deeper inside you.

His hand groped your breast, abusing your nipples as he plunged into you deeper. Before feeling yourself coming undone, squeezing down on his cock. "Fuck" he groaned, pushing himself into you. His fingers trailing down onto your pelvis, he rubbed your clit, making you whine. Breathy moans echoed from your lips, and you looked through your lashes at him. Your walls massaging his cock, his thrust getting faster and into an animalistic pace.

His groans became frantic, as he fucked himself into you, before he pulled out and cummed onto your stomach, the white sticky load coating your body. Feeling your legs shaking, and your chest heaving. Staring at him, tiredness in your eyes.

"You did so good, dove," he said, kissing the corner of your neck.

Soon this moment happened time and time again, mostly during the nights when everyone was gone or sleeping away. He would call for you, knowing what would happen at the end of every night, you on his bed either coated with his cum or filled with it. Usually leaving before anyone can get suspicious of you and Coriolanus. Always wearing a nightgown, Coriolanus purchase for you. Looking into the mirror with the rich, satin fabric on your body, hugging your curves and bosom.

He would surprise you with special things mostly material things but you were grateful for them.

He would buy luxurious lingerie and jewelry for you. You were getting ready to meet Coriolanus as he called for you again, wearing the special red lingerie underneath nightgown, you obeyed. Walking down to his chambers, in the end, the precious lingerie was ripped and your nightgown on the floor stained with cum. His hands on your waist as he thrusted into you, he was close and you were already done and tired. His hands explored you, before he spilled himself into you. Pulling himself out of you, your legs were shaking, holding yourself up. Feeling him leaving a kiss on your cheek, he put himself into his pants.

You walked towards your discarded nightgown, taking ahold of the material, and slipping it on. There was a moment of silence between you and Coriolanus. Getting yourself busy, fixing the fabric of the nightgown, pulling it down carefully.

"Wait, Y/N" you turned around at him, "Yes, Corio" you responded, he loved it when you used that nickname with him, he walked forward to you, "Stay" he paused for a minute, "Stay with me for the night" He finishes, your eyes slightly widen. "What if, we were caught?" You whispered, "Nobody could come in without my permission, Y/N" he pushed a strand of your loose hair over your ear, "Just stay" he whispered, his hands trailing down to your waist, rubbing them in reassurance. You cleared your throat, putting your hands on his chest, and parting your lips.

"Alright—I will..."

@everyone: FOR ALL MY MUTUALS AND MY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE YOU!!

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.