#district6 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daenysthedreamersblog · 4 months

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STRANGERS

Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love

Freezer bride, your sweet divine

You devour like smoked bovine hide

How funny, I never considered myself tough

summary: you've won the hunger games, and ready to return home in peace, but president snow has other plans for you, and he won't take no for an answer.

pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, heavy drinking, non-con male masturbation, non-con oral sex (m receiving), roses ( pls let me know if i forgot any!)

notes: im new at publishing on tumblr so pls be patient with me! also new at writing in second person POV so sorry for any mistakes! hope u enjoy! there will be more parts coming soon!

Blood splatters onto your face.

"Please," He mouthed underneath you, but the knife was plunging down anyways. You couldn’t hear it.

The crunch of a sternum bone.

Silence. Cold silence rang in your ears and you blinked climbing off of the body a distant boom rupturing around the arena, but you only felt to shake of it, the sudden vibrational change in the air. You looked around the sun blaring down onto you as you turned away from the dead boy, you stumble forward, knee giving out from under you before you collapsed to the ground rolling onto your back staring upward. The blood oozed from the wound on your leg, it stung, it stung harshly, but it was welcomed.

It was over. Everything. It was over and all you were met with was blood stained hands and silence. You could smell the rot forming in your soul.

Boots were pounding into the ground, surrounding you, guns pointing at your body. Hands wrapped around your biceps pulling you, dragging you out of purgatory and into the looming light ahead.

"Congratulations." He whispered placing the small crown on your head, a dainty gold thing, his hands lingering too long on a wisp of your hair. The games had cut off your tongue it seems words never rising to the surface. His hand was under you chin, "Smile. You've won." It felt like a command so the corners of your mouth tugged up as the camera flashed upon you, shaking hands with your esteemed president.

"Thank you." His jaw ticked at your slip, the lack of his title, but he shook your hand anyways as Lucky Flickerman’s crew zoomed in for their close up. The motions were clear, set into place as you read the prepared words off the telecom. If you could get through this then you could return home where it was simple and safe. You would be okay once the Capitol train dropped you off in District 6 where you can happily watch it all disappear forever.

A hand slid to the small of your back, your spine locking up as another photo flashed of the two of you. Your smile stumbled as his shoulder pressed into yours heat pouring off of him where your bodies collided.

You met his eyes, face half turned towards each other, and your cheeks burned with a flush.

The only good thing about winning was finally eating and drinking real food again.

You downed cups and flutes of any alcohol you could find shoved into your hands drowning out the sound of people talking, congratulating you. It was cruel really how when the film of a camera was replaced it sounded like small bones cracking, so your drank more. Why were they so thankful? They arranged for you to be there...they sent you to either die or kill for them. Because some great-great grand-whatever rebelled, so now you had to live with the consequences of someone else actions.

Your brain was beyond heavy, mouth no doubt stained red from the wine. One more day, one more day and you would be going home to die of hopefully natural causes some other time. One more day and you would be out of this hateful city, away from theses entitled, hateful people. You felt it then, the dryness in your throat, the angry water welling in your eyes. You set the empty cup down, stumbling away from the party silent tears beginning to unwarrantedly roll down your cheeks. You gripped the railing as you climbed the stairs towards the mansion doors needing to hide away from the world, and when you reached the top you pushed it open harshly. The heels of your shoes clicked on marble floor in an empty hallway, a door slamming shut behind you as you kept moving. The hallway was spinning like you were stuck in a concrete mixer turning and turning and turning.

You tripped over your foot catching yourself by throwing a hand out to the wall, collapsing onto a small cushioned bench. The groan left your mouth as you slid out of your shoes feet aching, you felt the long gash of the scar the District 2 tribute had given you. It was taking a while to fully close, the wound on you soul would never heal either it seemed.

More tears. More anger.

"You should be celebrating." The cold, calculating voice cut through the air.

You could only roll your head upward, too drunk, too ashamed to be afraid at the surprise. Fresh tears rolled down your cheek. "I did."

Footsteps were coming towards you, slow, like the wolf hunting a doe, and that was when your body alerted, when he had stepped into your space, head snapping towards him. He looked as calm and collected as his tone, a rich black suit fitted to his lean body, a hand lazily in his pocket as his legs bracketed in your knee. "Then why are you in here? I have a whole party out there for you and you hide away in my home.”

"Too noisy." You stared up at him with red rimmed eyes as he towered over, your vision fuzzy at the corners.

His knuckle came up to your cheek collecting the tear freshly traveling down makeup covered skin. "You should be celebrating." He repeated the moisture glistening on his bone. "Not crying."

You sniffed, your voice cracking from crying, "Sorry sir."

"Mr. President." He corrected.

"Sorry, Mr. President sir." You cleared your throat offering him a fake smile.

His hand came under your chin, a pinky resting on your jaw his thumb tracing puffy, wine stained lips, "That's a good girl. Too much wine I suspect hmm?" You only nodded as he held you face, held your life with it too. You might have won his games, but he could still ruin everything, ruin the little family left back home. He had always made that clear to everyone; it wasn’t a shock people started dying soon after they crossed him.

"Yes. Mr. President, sir.” For some reason another tear slipped out with a wide eyed blink.

"You look so pretty when you cry." He traced over your lip one more time gently pushing in until the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. You heard the wet noise of his lips parting, as he took a quiet deep breath your teeth grazing his skin. Then he popped it out, bought it to his mouth, sucking gently on your leftover wine. "Come." He wrapped his arm around your bicep pulling you to your feet in front of him. "Let's get you some food, introduce you to some more friends of mine, and then bed." Two hands stroked down your hair holding your head between his palms. "How does that sounds my little victor?"

A dark gaze lingered in his eyes that there was no way around what he wanted, no telling him no. So you let him bend down and slip your shoes back on keeping your face towards the opposite wall. ”Yes Mr. President, sir.” His hand lingered too long on your bare ankle before he rose.

He smiled, a snake like gleam in it, like he had finished wrapping his body around his victim to suffocate it. One more day, and then you were done. He could introduce you to whoever he liked, feed you whatever he wanted, but come tomorrow on that beautiful train ride home the Capitol, the games would be a distant traumatizing memory, and he would just be a face on a screen come next year.

He plucked the white rose off the front of his suit jacket, took the pin out, and tucked it behind your ear to sit prettily in your hair.

His hand wrapped around your waist causing you to grip his forearm to stumble out into the party once more. Your eyes scanned the party, catching on a young girl, the winner from District 4. Her name started with an M, but you couldn’t find the rest of it in you hazy brain. The only thing you could focus on was the sad frown etched upon her pretty face as President Snow dragged you through his party.

6 months later

You wiped dirt off on your pants standing up to admire the blooming garden spread out in front of you. A smile flittered onto your face for only a moment before it fell staring at the wilting leaves on top of wet soil. They had fallen no doubt during a weeding or pruning or plain decay, but they were there ready for the earth to absorb them for nutrients.

Did the arena absorb their decaying bodies too or were they flown away somewhere else? Did they go back to their families so they could rest in peace?

You shook the thought grabbing gardening tools and the water can heading back to the house. Time was helping, the white noise of the district was helping, the trains going by were helping. The only reminder you had ever been carted away...well that and the large sum you had been gifted upon winning. You decided to ration it, save it but comfortably. It was the only thing truly stopping you from drowning yourself in alcohol or morphling, and the disappointed look your father had given you when they had carried you off the train, too wasted to walk. You took up gardening soon after the initial withdrawing, rotting period needing to keep you hands, your mind busy.

The scent of vanilla hit you as soon as you entered the house your body freezing on the threshold. It was a warm vanilla scent, which meant your mother had made tea, which meant there was company. You set your tools down, peeling off you mud stained boots. Your mother laughed as you slowly continued down the hall, the sound muffled by the kitchen wall you had yet to curve around to enter the kitchen. Alarms shot off in your head, the hair on your neck standing up knowing it wasn't anyone from District 6.

"Mother." You called seeing the outline of her at the table.

"Darling." Your mother smiled as you turned the corner, eyes flitting over to the man across the table from her sipping on his tea. A fresh bouquet of white roses sat in a new vase at the center of the table. "We have a guest."

"Mr. President." Your mouth dried out, feet heavy, gluing you to the middle of the kitchen. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Your mother only stood up rushing towards you, taking your hands to sweetly drag you to the table. "Come sit, my darling bluebell." She forced you into an empty chair around the modest circular table, a plaid green table cloth covering it. You kept eyes on him as she poured tea into the only empty cup. Once the kettle was down she discreetly tried to wipe dirt off your face, "Always covered in something from your little garden."

President Snow mouth quirked up. "Garden?"

You only managed a nod. ”It was a small little thing, something to help…” Her eyes dropped, “Something to keep her busy, and well before you knew it it had taken up most of the lawn." Another discreet pat on the cheek. "I have never been more proud than when I see her out there working on it." She chuckled, "Well besides when you put the tiara on her head." You inwardly cringed at the word tiara, at the reminded of what had been done to earn it.

"My grandmother grew roses." He motioned to the red one he worse pinned to his blue suit. His eyes met yours, "Do you?" A small nod as steam swirled up from the tea that would never be drank, "May I see them?"

Your mother stood up answering, "Of course." Her hands came upon you shoulders, "Go change and show our lovely President." You pushed the chair back using it as an escape for the moment, "Wash your face, and put on that pretty blue sun dress." You didn't answer, only walked back down the hall to your room finally able to breath normally away from his suffocating presence. What was he doing all the way out here? You had figured, had clung, to the fact you would never have to see him, or the Capitol again, and now he was here invading your home.

After washing your shaking hands and face, digging the dirt out of your nails, and braiding your hair back did you put that stupid sundress on and walk back out. Your mother was standing by the door a forced smile on her lips, "Yes sir, no sir." She reminded you, pulling small tendrils of hair loose around your face. "Don't speak unless spoken to."

"I know." You told her, forcing her hands away from your face reciting what your father and mother had both instilled in you. "I am grateful for what you've done for us President Snow."

"Mr. President Snow, sir." She pinched your cheeks to give them color then let you step around her and out of the house.

He was standing near the edge of the garden just before the walkway split separating each sections. "It truly does take up most of the lawn." He smiled holding out his arm for you. You slowly allowed him to hook it under his elbow to lead down the walkway. "It smells divine."

"Thank you." You swallowed, "Mr. President, sir."

He only smirked, "Your mother raised a well mannered woman."

You offered him a shy smile, ”My father and mother always instilled proper etiquette as best as they could. They emphasized respect and dutifulness."

"Important traits to have." He agreed. He was Capitol, he was the president, no doubt relishing in the fact district folks weren't born with those traits, they had to have it beat into them.

His hand clamped around yours, trapping it in his arm. Your breaths shook, don’t stutter. "My roses are just this way." You motioned up the path for him to lead in that direction.

The rose bush could have looked better, but it had always been a work in progress, a difficult flower to manage, and your heart had never truly been fond of roses. Red and yellow seeds were the only color you could acquire so the colors sometimes missed their mark or died all together. “Troublesome for you?” There was no hiding the disappointment in his tone.

“Yes.” An embarrassed response. "I'm tempted to rid myself of them."

"Hmm," He stepped forward fingers running along the soft petals. "I have a garden full of white roses, I brought some for you today."

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I'm sure my mother adores them."

"They're for you, not her." He flatly told you a sneer on his face. "A gift of sorts to my favorite little victor." He smirked down at the bush plucking a perky red rose from its stem. "Or what did she call you?" He turned back towards you, "Her darling bluebell?"

The blush bit at your cheeks, "Thank you. Mr. President sir." He smiled deeply tucking the stem of the rose behind your ear rooting it into the braid. "They are lovely." I lied. The scent of roses overtook the air to the point you felt dizzy with it, felt them swallowing you whole like he did.

"I do hope your mother won’t mind looking after it all.” He sighed his hand running down your arm as blood drained out of you, the question sitting leaden in your mouth. "We're trying something new, something Dr. Gaul believed would bring good publicity to the games." You chewed on your cheek, biting the refusal back. You remembered hearing about her death a year or two ago. "A victory tour of sorts." Both hands were on your arms holding you in front of him, "You'll go district to district letting them celebrate you and then finish at the Capitol. I'm going to throw you another party."

His hand came under your chin tilting your face up to him, "How does that sound my little bluebell?"

"Okay." You whispered because it was what was supposed to be said to him.

He beamed, "Such a good girl." His smile fell, "Since this is the first time we're doing it I'll be going with you of course to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Ice coated you. How long would this be? Would he ever let you remain in peace? Would the garden wither and die in the time you would be gone? Why did he stare like that?

You only nodded the obedience in your spine locking into place.

It wasn't horrible. The train was comfy and reminded you of home, the rumbling sound it made, the smell of the smoke and gasoline, the horn blaring through the night. They had written words, of course, to say at every district, reciting from a script how sorry you were for their losses and how thankful you are for the Capitol and their generosity. President Snow talked the most which was ironically a godsend since you didn't want to speak at all.

Mostly, there was food, tons of food...and wine.

You more self-indulgent habit to make the time go by smoother. Even more so now because you could, because it was free, because your parents weren't here to shame you. You would stop once you got home; you had done it before. When the tour was over, you would stop, you would go back home, relish in the normalcy, the garden, where it was safe. Where no one could find you.

Snow wouldn't be on the train ride home.

It unnerved you that he was here simply a few train cars down, eating, sleeping, plotting murder no doubt, planning more games. It only made you swig from the bottle more to shove the anxiety down.

You had crawled in the train car window, a comfy seat under it, curling you feet under you to watch the night blur past. Each bump comforted you, like you were in the older train cars carting people around the district. The moon wasn't out making any outline impossible to see, so you closed your eyes, pretending to hear the bustling square at home. You took another drink of wine savoring the lazy feeling coating your body.

The door slid open no doubt an Avox coming to do some chore, so you didn’t even bother to look. "You didn't come to dinner." Your head snapped up seeing Snow standing in the door a tray of food in his hands, "They said you only grabbed a bottle of wine and left."

"I wasn't hungry." Not a lie, you had felt ill since leaving District 9 the tributes faces beginning to gnaw at you once more. You had survived, and they hadn’t, and it felt wrong. "Mr. President, sir."

He wasn't wearing his normal suit instead a pair of dress pants, and a starched white button up, the top two buttons undone. His immaculate blonde hair was slightly mused a stray curling piece falling onto his forehead. "Come eat with me." You weighed the options before unfolding your legs out and turning to slid off the sill. You tugged at the nightgown they had shoved in the closet for sleep, a soft thin robe covering your shoulders over it. They hadn’t allowed you to bring any clothes from home. His eyes glanced up your body as you pulled it tighter around you.

"Excuse my appearance Mr. President, sir." You sat down across from him.

"No need." He only smiled as he pushed the tray. "Do you like the train?"

You nodded picking at the food, "It reminds me of home. We used to live by the test track before it moved, and it used to rumble the house. I used to hate it growing up, but now it seems to have grown on me."

"I bet it has." You should enjoy the food more, shovel it down until it was nothing. Your family had never suffered too much within the district not like the others, like 10,11,12... but it wasn't exactly always easy. The Capitol was always cramming food down your throat before and after the games, before you had reveled in it, the after...it tasted like dust in my mouth sometimes. You set the fork down pushing the half eaten tray away, but he only pushed it back. "Eat, please." You began to open your mouth in protest, but his jaw ticked. "Eat." A command, "All of it."

You watched his face, bottom lip trembling at the new tone he was using. It was bound to come out, but you had been so kind, always listened. You slowly began eating again forcing each bite until nothing remained, until your chest was tight with a full stomach. You took a sip of water. Always thank him, your mother had whispered on your way out of the door, Even if you are not thankful.’ “Thank you, Mr. President sir."

"You are so good to me, my little bluebell." He leaned forward the darkness engulfing the blue in his eyes. "Can you do something for me?" You made yourself nod even-though fear was trickling down your skin. He motioned with his head, "Go lie down on the bed."

The color drained from your face, "Wh-What?"

Don't stutter.

You cursed inwardly for the slip. ”Be my good girl and go lie down on the bed." His grin widened, “I won’t say it again.”

By the time your knee hit the bed tears had slipped over, you tried to stop them, but they welled anyways as you turned to look at him. He stalked towards you unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them, so you forced your gaze upward taking in the sounds of rustling. His hands pushed the robe down your shoulders letting it pool onto the bed. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to stop him as his fingers trailed along your bare shoulders, along your collarbones, up your neck. "Spit." He held out his hand. You swallowed, pulling the liquid back up and spit into his palm watching him bring it between his legs. You forced yourself to not look down, not look at what his hand was doing with a large length, to not look as he slid his hand along it. His other hand came up to your face, once again dragging across your bottom lip, pushing his finger further in, hooking it onto your bottom teeth. "Suck on it." He growled. You blinked fresh tears out before letting your tongue poke and lick up his finger, swirling around his knuckle listening to his pants. A cry of protest sat in your lungs, but would it matter? Were you always bound to be at his mercy, cursed to obey his whims to exert his power. “You listen so good." His head fell back a little the small groan hiding the sounds of him stroking himself. “Will you take my cock good too?”

"Please." You whimpered against his hand finding the smallest resistance in yourself at his words. "Please sir...I'm a virgin. I-I don't-!"

He shoved you back onto the bed with a growl his knees straddling your thigh as he pumped his hand faster and faster groaning into the air as two fingers invaded your mouth thrusting along your tongue. You felt violated, but all you could do was lie there and take it, let him do whatever he was doing because you were good, because he was the president and you had to obey. You closed your eyes tears burning your skin on the way his movements shook your body, until finally he stilled warmth shooting over your skin.

You finally breathed as he removed his fingers and stepped away. You lied there, listening to him straighten his clothes back on. "Don't change. Sleep in that." You glanced down at the white clumps running down your nightgown, some even drying to your exposed chest.

He stared at you expectantly. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President, sir.”

His grin was haunting as he left.

The rest of the tour went unbothered. He only occasionally came back to repeat those events, but each time it got a little easier as you began to know what to expect, each time you dared to look a little bit more. Sometimes even getting lost in the way his hand glided across his glistening cock covered in your spit. On the rare nights, you even gazed upward at him, at his hooded eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead, tongue between his teeth. You even began to listen to the noises he made, the heavy grunts, the soft groans and grit of his jaw, his vulgar words at you when his eyes suddenly met yours making you look away with heat in your cheeks.

And then he would cum over your body.

You threw up after the first night only forcing it to stay on your body because he had said so. After that it became easier to withstand the feeling, the warmth, the smell. You realized after a few times it gave off a scent you had only attributed to him, you only knew that because he often stood so close to you. It was so mild and hidden that you could only tell when you brought some close to your nose, and since it was already there you tasted it and you figured his skin might taste like that too.

It was fine, until you finished the tour of District 2. The boy's face stared down at you, and you remembered how it looked covered in blood.

Please!

The crunch of bone.

You could barely get through the reading, crying halfway through before someone had to usher you to the side. Snow was angry; you could see it in his dark eyes but maybe he could find pity. You had been so kind, so good.

It didn't matter by the time he found you curled into the corner of my room you were covered in smeared make up and tears. You couldn't even take off the stupid pink dress they had given you. He stood there for a moment taking you in then he grabbed you by the hair yanking you up onto the bed. Then he reeled back and slapped you across the face so hard your head snapped to the side. "You were very bad today bluebell."

"I-I..."

Another slap the other way. "Don't stutter."

Your cheek was stinging, "I'm sorry." A pause, and then another hard slap stars split your vision. "I'm sorry Mr. President, sir." You closed your eyes waiting for more but then you heard the familiar noise of his pants unbuttoning and your body began to lay itself back like it had registered before you did. He only darkly chuckled as he pulled you back up and shoved you to your knees in front of him, "I know you didn't mean to break the rules. Right?” You nodded, “And why do I know that?”

"Because I'm your good girl, Mr. President, sir." You stared up at him with red cheeks and pouting lips.

He groaned, his hard length pressing against your mouth. You glanced up at him with furrowed brows not knowing how to do what he was asking. “Open your mouth,” You did. “Don’t bite. I'll do the rest." He pushed past your lips, taking ahold off your face and began rocking his hips into you, his cock sliding along your tongue. "Oh fuck," He shivered shoving himself deeper the tip of him touching the back of your throat. You swallowed the gag as he pulled out to slam back into you bring your throat more tears spilling out, spit running down your chin. You squeezed your eyes as he used your mouth for whatever he wanted as he thrusted his cock into your mouth viciously. "Swirl your tongue around it." He hissed and you obeyed running it along the shaft, around the head feeling him stutter his movements, but pick up speed. His hand was rooted in your scalp yanking your face up, pain bubbling up with each abusing stroke, but something else was there too, and you realized his skin didn't taste bad. "You like that? You like when I fuck your mouth?"

You mumbled out incoherently not even sure what your answer was.

He shoved your head back, neck craned against the mattress his hips pinning you as he blatantly fucked into your mouth. ”I wonder what pretty sounds you would make if I fucked you hmm?” His hand bobbed your head against him as you gripped his thighs to hold yourself up as saliva dripped across your chest. "I can't though...too many others want it."

Your eyes shot open just as his thrust turned sporadic and warm liquid shot down your throat. Your face was covered in fluids, covered in drool and cum, dribbling down your chin as he slowly removed himself. ”What?" Your throat was raw and torn.

"I was going to wait to tell you." He sighed tucking himself back in. "But you are very desirable as a Victor, and once you told me you were a virgin...well it made you a lot more desirable." He patted your tears and cum stained cheek, "But you have been so good to me despite this slip up, so I will try to pick someone you will like. Hmm?” You were too stunned to respond. He was selling you to people, selling you to the highest bidder because you had killed a boy. You weren’t even supposed to win everyone had let you know how the tribute from 10 was slated to win, but he got taken out while you were hiding, and they had lost money. Because your life was a bet for them.

"I want to go home." You cried softly his hand cradling your face.

He cocked his head to the side, "Oh bluebell. You can't leave me yet." He stood up and began to walk to the door, "I might just have to keep you."

He left you there on your knees. No he didn't quite taste bad, in fact, you thought maybe you enjoyed the pool of him on your tongue. You cried even harder.

PART TWO here!

(if you care)

#coriolanus snow #fanfic #dark fanfic #dark coriolanus snow #president snow #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo smut #coriolanus smut #coryo x you #dark fanfiction #smut #coriolanus x y/n #tom blyth #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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daenysthedreamersblog · 4 months

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STRANGERS III - 'THANK YOU MR. PRESIDENT, SIR'

I’m happier here cause he told me i should be

You’re so handsome when i’m all over your mouth

part one & two here

summary: you hate president snow, hate him and his stupid ugly roses, but he might be the only one who can save you from the man buying your virtue.

pairing: president!snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!! swearing, slapping, choking, manipulation/coercion, power imbalance, slight dubcon, smut, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, BLOOD!, slight somophilia, breeding kink, let me know if i forgot anything!

notes: alexa play 'stockholm syndrome' by one direction. (jk strangers by ethel cain)

He didn't come at night, nor the rest of the week. He left you alone in the large guest room to sit frightened in a queen size bed. After a few days you walked the grounds, the gardens and greenhouse once more, no sign you had ever been in there. You walked around his large empty home, no children, no wife. So quiet. Except for the servants flittering through occasionally.

You assumed he had finally forgotten about you, time had moved on and so had he.

Until the stylist came.

You were crying before they even started working on you knowing what this meant. Knowing what was awaiting you downstairs.

"It will be over quickly my dear," They hushed you trying to put the makeup on. "Just hush no-!"

"Just get her a damn drink!" The other snapped.

Soon enough a small glass appeared in front of you with brown liquid filling half the cup. You drained it peering up at them with blurry eyes and burning lungs, "Will it hurt?” You knew it would, you were stalling.

She smiled, it was fake. "No." A lie. You only held out your glass for them to fill finally letting them prepare you for slaughter. They allowed you one more drink before getting you ready

It was another white floor length gown. Thin straps covered your shoulders, the skirt was covered in a sheer tulle material littered with white roses. They had done your hair up stray pieces falling prettily across your face. A neutral shade on your lids, a pretty pink gloss on your lips. They sprayed a heavy scented perfume across your body, spread some sort of glitter onto parts of you skin.

No underwear. They had refused to let you put them on per the president's orders.

"Tigris." You pleaded. "Where is she? May I see her before you take me?" She wanted to help you before, maybe not enough, but she had tried to talk to him.

They shared a look, the middle one speaking, "She's not allowed to work on you anymore." Your heart sank.

Then they were walking you out of the room.

You wondered who would be punished if you fought back, if the peacekeepers would gun you down as you sprinted across his lawn. You dug your nails into your palms as they walked you to the dinning room basically pushing you through the door. You stumbled slightly inside catching yourself on the large door before glancing up. He was slightly upset, but his eyes softened just a little when they took you in. His picture of innocence and beauty, his perfect white rose in a thorny garden.

He looked handsome, beautiful even in a deep red suit, white rose pinned to the front. His perfect blond hair sat styled atop his head, no stray piece in sight, piercing blue eyes gazing down to your morrow. He sat straight, commanding the room simply by existing in it. Your heart thumped roughly as if you were staring at a saving grace and you longed to be near him if only to stay away from the other man in the room.

Your buyer was smiling at you once you took your seat. The room was larger than the other, a long table stretched out filled with empty plate settings and various floral arrangements (mostly hideous white roses that filled the room with their stench). A large chandelier and various wall lights illuminated the room in a warm glow. "You look exquisite." The man held up his glass.

You smiled gently raising your own glass and downing it. You expected to be reprimanded, but maybe they thought it best if you were wasted and willing. Did Snow tell him? No that would ruin the image he was trying to present to his bidders. You held out your glass for a refill.

Dinner was four courses and once again no body spoke to you thankfully. They let you drown in you cups as they spoke about politics, the games, the animals in the districts. Music was playing softly in the background and you drowned them out while pushing food around your plate.

"Eat." Snow's voice cut through your dissociating. It was the third course and you were already borderline stuffed opting to fill yourself with wine instead of substance and you were consuming more than normal not feeling the effects of it just yet. You opened your mouth to explain, but he narrowed his eyes at you.

So, you ate. The man chuckled, "You've got that one trained well Snow."

Snow chuckled as well, "I can't take all the credit, she came that way." Like you had arrived in a crate just for him.

He glanced across at you, “How did you learn those manners out in 6?”

You looked at Snow, then back to the man, setting your utensils down to let your hands fall in your lap. “My parents.” He furrowed his brows at you. You forget sometimes, how lowly they viewed people from the districts, how confusing it must be to learn they aren’t all savages…for the most part. “My grandfather ran a tight ship, so did my father.” It was the simplest form of the story.

“Hmm.” He chewed on his food, swallowed, and spoke again. “And your father? What does he do?”

You fought the quivering sigh, “He's a mechanic of sorts, helps put together anything that comes back broken or malfunctioning.”

The man chuckled, “And he likes what he does?”

“I think so,” Your face burned feeling as if he was mocking you somehow, looking down at you.

He only smirked swirling around his drink as his attention turned to President Snow, “I heard they have a huge morphling problem out in 6.” You knew that, had seen it when you turned down a wrong street. You stopped listening as the conversation turned away from you. You missed your father, missed the smell of oil on him when he came home, missed how he used to put you on his shoulder when you were little to see the hovercrafts take off. You were forgetting that smell, smoke and oil that coated the air sometimes, now the air sat thick with the scent of roses.

That life was gone now, killed in the arena.

You drank more, you forced yourself to eat to avoid them talking to you anymore and when the man had thrown his napkin down letting you know the dinner was finished you wanted to puke everything up again.

You had your hands folded in my lap picking at your cuticles until pain pricked, blood blossoming up like a rose. You brought it to your mouth hearing Snow's chair screech backwards, "If I may?" He held out his hand for you which you took greedily, “How does a nightcap sound.” He wasn’t talking to you.

“Always Snow.” So informal. “What’s mine is yours.” He joked standing up to follow as Snow led the three of you wherever he wanted to go.

You glanced up at him, and he met you half-way with a sidelong stare. You wanted to beg him, plead with him to not go through with this. You hoped he could see the worry in your eyes, but he looked away. He stopped at a door down the hall pushing it open and pulling you inside. It seemed to be an office or study. A large dark wooden desk, books lining shelves against one wall, a small hearth, two armchairs and small table between them with a love-seat across it, and a makeshift bar with various colored liquor in glass decanters.

He sat you on the elegant love seat and went to the bar. You sat up straight, sucking the blood off your finger again before it got on your dress as you watched the man take up one of the armchair seats. He handed the man a drink, one in his hand, and sat down next to you. He didn’t give an explanation to why you didn’t get one, probably thought it best after drinking so much through dinner despite the fact you felt completely sober. You blamed all the food he forced you to eat.

“She’s not going to kill me once we’re alone right?” The man lowered his voice as if you weren't in the room.

“No,” Snow chuckled. “She’s completely docile.” He reached over to grab your hand. “Would you like me to be in the room just in case?” You involuntarily squeezed his hand feeling his thumb caress your knuckles in response.

The man shook his head unaware of the movement. “That’s alright. Will there be ways to…subdue her if it comes to it?”

“Yes of course,” Snow smiled. You body went cold. “I’ve prepared a room for the two of you…with supplies, and we’ll have guards close by.” You glanced at the man watching you, finding solace in Snow's warmth radiating onto you.

He seemed suspicious of you, “Are you sure she’s a virgin?”

“Yes.” You wanted cry out that you weren’t just to make him leave. But then he may find someone worse, someone perhaps crueler than this man could be. Snow had promised to pick out someone you would like, but you weren’t sure what the criteria had truly been. You didn’t realize you were crying until water landed on your wrist.

"Please don't let him do this to me." You whispered.

Snow’s blue eyes met yours satisfied with your emotions, and then he reached out to stroke a palm down your cheek. You nearly leaned into the touch if it meant you could get away from another, “She’s a good girl.” He looked at the man, “She’ll behave.” Blood ran down your finger from the small cut and he brought it up to his mouth sucking it slightly, “Isn’t that right?”

The man set down his glass loudly. “Well, thank you for the lovely meal President Snow.” He was standing up, and you were gripping Snow’s hand even tighter.

He shook it off, patted your thigh, and stood up as well. “A toast first, for a wonderful evening, and another successful game.” He walked passed the man, who was looking at you, while you stared after Snow. Your heart was thumping loudly in your throat, bile rising with each short breath.

His back went straighter as he glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes narrowed in on your face, at the water welled in your eyes, at the blood still slowly dripping from the tip of your finger. Then he turned back to pour the drinks. He handed one to the man, "To victory." He clinked their glasses watching with dark eyes over the rim of his glass as they drank.

The man took a deep breath as he finished and handed his glass back offering Snow a polite smile, "I think we will retire for the rest of the night.”

“Of course,” Snow nodded. He motioned to the door, “Your room is right down the hall.”

The man’s hand wrapped around your bicep. "Please." You begged. "Please Mr. President!" He only watched you with cold eyes. "I'll be good! I'll be good for you!” Your buyer gripped you harder, dragging you away a litter rougher this time. You stumbled over your shoes, the dress, feeling him grapple with you to keep moving.

“Behave,” He hissed. “Like he told you.”

You wrangled within his grip. What had Tigris called him that day, what did she say; you squeezed your eyes trying to remember, losing your footing completely and letting the man drag you through the door.

He's possessive.

Your eyes snapped open meeting his, "Coriolanus." The room stopped moving, nobody breathed as your eyes widened with the plea, as your other hand outstretched for him. "I'm your good girl, don't let him take me from you."

The door closed in your face as he dragged you down the hall. It was quiet now all you could hear were your ragged breaths, his grunts as he dragged your fighting body to the room. He pushed open the door and you realized they truly had set it up so nicely for him. There were candles and atrocious red rose petals, a white silk nightgown to put you in if he wished. “Put it on.” His voice was cold and distant. You stared at him watching him glance up and down at you, and then he sighed. “I paid a lot of money for you. Don’t make me hurt you.”

You shook your head.

He shoved you onto the bed. “You’re so fucking sweet to him.” He began to unbuckle his belt. “Probably lap him up like he's sweet fucking cream.” This was it, you thought for a second staring at the ceiling. Then you fought back. You clawed at him feeling his skin breaking, you bit and kicked as he rustled with the skirt of your dress until you slashed him across the face with sharp painted nails. “Ugh!" He groaned gripping his bleeding face. “Do I have to fucking go get him so you stop fighting me!” You stilled, giving yourself away completely, and he straightened on top of you. “He’s a fucking liar.” His eyes grew vicious. “And you’re a fucking whore! I knew it, I thought I saw something strange going on. He’s fucking you isn’t he? Isn’t he!” He slapped you across the face, your head snapping to the side, cheek stinging with the blow. “You probably want him to come in, save you, con me out of my money.” He pinned down your hands as he pushed up your dress. “Tell him I want it back. I paid for a virgin, not his slut.”

One moment he was planting himself between your legs, the next, blood dripped onto your face. One drop, then a splatter as his nose leaked red liquid. He reached up to touch it, confused, and then he collapsed on top of you. He wasn't breathing, he wasn't moving, dead weight atop of you. Your hands were up, too shocked to scream out for someone, too confused at the dead man lying on top of you.

Weight was soon lifted off of you and a loud thud hit the floor, but you couldn't look, couldn't look as you heard them dragging his body out of the room. You couldn't look at anything but the space above you until he was hovering over you a sly smirk on his lips, "You are full of surprises bluebell.” He scooped you in his arms and carried you away from the room. You knew you were shaking, you knew you should be scared as he walked with you away, alone. He walked you up a set of stairs and down a long hallway finally opening up a door to set you on your feet.

He closed the door, locked you in with him.

"Did you mean it?" He whispered, his voice husky. "That you'll be good for me." Your mouth dried, but what did you expect when he came rushing into that room. It wasn't because he cared; it was because someone was touching his property. "That you don't want anyone to take you away from me.” Your eyes went wild, that wasn’t exactly what you had said. “You wanted me to save you, I saw it in your eyes. You wanted me, not him. You squeezed my hand. You begged me, and I saved you.”

You slowly looked up at him. “Did you kill him.”

He came closer, "You think I would really let him take what's mine.” His hand came around you, fingers pulling down the zipper of your dress. "You cried out for me that night. Screamed my name as I made you come over, and over, and over, and over again. Your pussy adores me, needs me, sucks me in like its starving, to be filled, be claimed." He smiled down at you, "It's mine, you're mine. You belong to me…and deep down you like that.”

You couldn’t look away from his face, "I didn't know your name."

But you did. Tigris had shot it through the room like a stray bullet when he forced himself on you. It ingrained into your subconscious and when he was fucking you with his tongue it had fell off your lips like sweet honey. Then you had called it out tonight…

Your body seemed to warm at the memory as you tumbled right into his awaiting palm. “Kiss me.” He whispered. He pushed the sleeves of the dress off your shoulders, not letting it move further. You did. It fell to the floor in a heap leaving you bare in front of him. His hand trailed down your naked body lightly tracing the curve of your spine to the top of your ass his hand splaying to grip the whole thing. “Kiss me.” His mouth lingered over yours a slight smile to it, "I know you want to, you like when I kiss you, you get so wet when we kiss." Your brows furrowed because no that wasn't true; unless that was what was sliding down your naked thigh. He grabbed your face opening you up for him to consume. His tongue fought yours, easily winning as one hand came up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple; you shivered, leaning into the touch. "You will listen, you will obey." He said walking you backwards to the bed. ”You will let me fuck you.” He lowered you onto the bed. He hovered over you sliding his mouth along yours, licking into your mouth, kneading your breast, biting down on your lip.

He stared down at you patiently awaiting your answer, as if he even cared what it was…maybe he did. But your shocked body ached for him to consume it, and was there really ever a version out there where you got to tell him no?

"Okay.”

He trailed across your face nipping at your jaw harshly, you winced. "I didn't let them serve you tonight." He sat up tugging off his suit jacket, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "I had them switch it out for sparkling grace juice. I wanted you sober for this.” He pulled his shirt off revealing a toned muscled chest glistening with sweat.

You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment, stare at his perfect naked skin. “You planned it all.”

“Of course I did.” He scoffed. "I told you I would choose someone you liked." And he believed that to be himself. He bent back down sinking his teeth into your collarbone tongue lolling against your skin. His mouth slid along your breast, sucking in your nipple, rolling his tongue along it. “And you are so wet by it.” You had ignored the slickness forming between your thighs all night, ignored how you had been rubbing them together under the table the more he looked at you. He reached his hand back, running his fingers between your folds, gathering the wetness up in his own hand and bringing it back to his face, "My dirty little white rose." He rammed his hand into your face smearing your own arousal around the tangy taste seeping into your mouth. Then he was dipping back into you, stretching you open with two fingers as he straddled your stomach. "You take it so well. You just let me do whatever I want to you hmm?" He curled his fingers and your face burned as you chewed on your lip. "You like it too, you fucking love when I make you cum." You squeezed your eyes as he stroked the sweetest spot inside of you, fighting down the agreement boiling in your lungs.

But your body remembered, and it was slowly tilting your hips to meet each brutal thrust of his hand. You tried to focus on anything other than how good his fingers felt inside of you, how the pressure was tightening in your stomach, how your skin was blazing in the wake of his touch. It didn't matter how hard you clenched your jaw, the second his thumb pressed down on your clit you let out the softest moan. You felt his hips grind against you at the noise his hard cock digging into your stomach, his fingers pinching your nipple then running it between them. It was cruel, truly, for him to make you feel such decadent things. To have this power over you, but then again, he always had. You were reaching for him, or trying to push him out, you weren't sure anymore but your nails were clutching his arm for dear life as the pleasure washed over you. You clamped down on his hand cumming for him like the savior he was with the tiniest whimper. He kept going, moving his hand harder, moving backwards to dive down and wrapping his mouth around your clit. It was too much, your vision blurred. You were shoving at him harder, "It's too much."

He pressed you into the mattress tongue swirling around you clit, and you couldn't move, couldn't see anything but stars and feel his mouth suck you clit in. Your stomach curled in on itself the second orgasm building too fast feet digging into his sides as tongue deftly moved along your over sensitive bud. You cried out that time as you came hand tangled in his blond hair unknowingly. "That's my girl." He smiled down at you, chin shinning with your pleasure. "That's how I know you like it."

You clamped your legs closed once he moved. He tried to pry them apart as your hands came slashing down at him, pushing at him to get off of you, to stop before he did something you knew you couldn’t come back from. "Open your legs." He growled fingers digging into your thighs so hard you felt skin busting apart. He was on top of you shoving his knee between your legs grabbing both your hands to hold them above your head. “You're mine.” He spoke so gently, so matter-of-factly, you were starting to believe him as a tear slid down your cheek. “You wanted me, remember?” Your teeth tugged at your lip. “It will feel good." You knew that. It was exactly why you wanted to stop him. “Kiss me.” He was leaning down, pressing his lips to yours sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, breaking your resolve. He was undoing his pants, and you let him slowly open your legs, let him slid between them. “That’s my good girl.” He smiled into your mouth and pushed into you.

The pain was blinding no matter how wet he had made you. He split you in two as he pushed inside of you inch by excruciating inch. You screamed so loud as every fabric of muscle broke open between your legs. You felt warmth rush between your thighs, the breath you tried to take cracking open your chest. He moved so slow, trying to move further inside your tight walls as they clamped around him. He was still for a moment enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him, or maybe it was a shred of kindness preventing any more pain. All you knew is his eyes were squeezed shut, broken pants expelling from his mouth, his hand resting on your shoulder digging in so hard it almost distracted you from the throbbing agony where your bodies were connected.

You almost took a second to admire him, between the intensity, but then he bottomed out inside of you.

"Oh." A breathless word.

Your pussy fluttered around him and he shuddered, "Fuck."

Then he pulled back slightly, pulled back until you almost felt relief that he was out, only to slam back into you. You grunted as your vision went away, white the only thing you could see as he did it again, and again, and again. His hand fell off your wrist needing to grip your waist as he pressed his forehead to yours, lips capturing every small force of air he shoved out of your mouth. "You're so fucking tight." He groaned his other hand on your shoulder pushing himself deeper. You felt him in your guts abusing your cervix with quickened thrust. You weren’t sure what you were feeling, broken sobs leaving your throat, there was pain, but there was something else too, something that was turning the sobs into moans. "I can feel your pussy clenching around me, can feel you getting wetter by the second." He bared his teeth against yours letting you gasp out into his mouth. "Be my good little whore and enjoy what I'm giving you.” He leaned up and back slowing slightly, and it gave you a moment to glance up at him. Sweat coated his forehead a blond curl across it as he watched where his cock disappeared inside of you, fascinated as you sucked him in greedily. His hips slapped against yours, lewd noises resonating around his bedroom each time he rammed in and out of your drenched cunt. His tongue swiped across his parted lips as the pain ebbed away completely replaced by horrible pleasure.

You ground your teeth, you fisted the sheets, you did everything but let him know what you were beginning to feel.

His hand slithered down between your legs and he danced delicate motions against your clit. You shook with a whimper the fire shooting down your body, your toes curling with it. "Cum around my cock." He whispered his thrust slow and deep letting you feel every thick inch of him. Your back was arching, the feeling tightening in your stomach, and a throaty groan slipped out. "It feels good doesn't it? You like that I fucked you, wanted me to fuck you all through that stupid dinner, you were so wet knowing it was always going to be me at the end of the night.” He began to move faster again, his hand working your clit harder and you squeezed your eyes tight. “This pussy has always belonged to me; it will always be mine.” He slapped you across the face head snapping to the side fucking into you, pressing against your clit. “Look at me.” He growled, forcing your face towards him as your eyes shot open, "Look at me when you cum.”

You gripped him hard body shaking with the orgasm that rocked through, your vision blurry with blue eyes. Your body clamped down around him, gushed around him as it crashed over you and pulled you under. He was hovering over you tucking his arm under your shoulder his mouth at your ear his grunts seeming to drive your legs further apart for him, wetness sucking him in more. You were whimpering his name against his moist throat, open mouthed kisses planted after each breath as you squeezed around him. His body tightened and he spilled inside of you, you should have stopped him, told him not to cum inside, but he would have done it anyways. He lay there for a moment only thrusting a little to push his seed deeper.

He pulled back slightly as you blinked up at him. You stared at each other for a while as his cock twitched one last time. Then he pulled out of you and climbed off the bed. "Don't move." He left you there, closing the door behind him. You felt dizzy with confusing feelings, legs shaking, his cum oozing out of you. You fought the sickening urge to push it back inside you to not feel so empty.

But you laid there, waiting for him to come back to you. He did. He sat you up and pulled the white satin nightgown over your head only to lay you back down. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President sir."

He laid down beside you, wrapped his arms around your body, and pulled you in tight so you couldn't let go. "Mhm," He purred in you ear. "So good to me, my darling bluebell."

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

You were moving, pushed and pulled like a soft tide, knew pleasure floated through your bones ebbing, flowing out of you. You rolled your head, feeling your leg lifted, feeling pressure between them. Your eyelids were so heavy, sleep trying to tug you back under but it was so warm, it felt so good.

You heard the whine leave your mouth as warmth surrounded you, as it moved between your legs. Your eyes shot open wildly staring out into the darkness truly unsure of reality. You glance down, not being able to see all that well, but its him. You know its him by how your body arches for him, as hands find his hair. His tongue rolls over your clit, flicking at it as you whimper out for him pulling your legs up and out so he can take more of you.

A dream then, you figured, as his tongue dipped inside you. You open your mouth to try to warn him of his own cum leaking out of you, but he doesn't care as he feast on you, lapping it up along with your arousal, his tongue so deep inside you, you sigh out while he fucks you with his tongue yanking your legs tighter around his shoulders. He's licking up the center sucking gently on your clit, his tongue tracing it as a faster pace and your head falls back. You barely even make a sound as you cum, as you gush against his face pussy clenching around nothing.

He's moving, the bed shifts as he moves closer rolling your body to the side forcing into you, sliding in to the hilt as your body demands him to fill you. He's somehow all around, engulfing you, his thick cock pushing in deeply as his teeth dig into your skin. You mumbled his name trying to turn. He had your body twisted so he could shove inside you, his face moving to lavish your breast.

"Go back to sleep," He muttered kissing your side, his cock sliding within you at a gentle pace, like he had all the time in the world, like he had hours. He lazily licked at your nipple, swirling his tongue around it, sucking it softly, grazing it with his teeth. A quiet whine floated into the air your head falling back against the pillow. You were too drowsy, too spent to feel anything other than what he was giving you, so your mind gave up fighting your body. Letting him open you up more, feel him envelope you as he rolled his hips against you like you were the whore he had called you earlier. "That's my girl," He muttered onto your skin, teeth ghosting over your flesh. His cock was rubbing against a sweet spot inside of you as you turned towards him your lips parting against his face, back arching to take him deeper. It was slow, purposeful, each thrust lighting a low burning fire in your veins. You let him kiss your neck, let him suck on your flesh, his presence intoxicating you, soon finding your hand tangled in his hair.

And then he looked down at you, noses touching in the dark, and maybe it was the proximity, but you could see his eyes. You brushed your lips against his, "Yours." It slipped out between the heated exchanged and sealed in your fate.

His eyes blew out and he leaned down to kiss you. You can smell yourself on his breath, smell his cum mixed in it all and you want it in your mouth, the taste of him too delicious. You finally kissed him back, running your tongue along his mouth tasting him, tasting the whiskey he had drank earlier, your arousal and his cum, the sweat on his top lip. His hand slithered down your body, languidly rubbing your clit the pleasure tingling down your legs. You moaned in his mouth, moaned his name into the air as he fucked you deeper, fucked you harder, claimed whatever pieces of you he wanted. "Mine." He grunted out back down your throat. "Mine. Mine. Mine."

You came hard, whimpering against him, fisting his hair, feeling him cum deep inside not long after. You didn't care this time, didn't mind the heavy warmth that coated your walls. Not as it filled some void he had carved out earlier.

You fall back asleep with him still inside you, like you had never woken up in the first place.

You woke up alone, body sore and spread out across his king sized bed sheets, blankets rumpled and draped over you. Everything ached, your hips and thighs, your neck and shoulders, your breast...your...your...You squeezed your eyes remembering, remembering how his cock had broke through you, how he hadn't stopped after the first time, but took you time and time again during the night until you were more full of him than yourself. He was never satiated, an inherent hunger prowling under his skin demanding to consume every piece of you.

And you had kissed him. You had whined out for him, held him closer, sighed his name like a prayer. You forced yourself up running hands over your face trying to erase the memory, trying to erase how well your body took him. You threw the sheets off shakily climbing off the bed the nightgown falling on your tacky middle thigh, and then you turned to glance at the bed.

You threw up onto the floor.

The bed, white sheets and all were covered in blood. You looked down. Your legs were covered in blood, and dried cum, and other fluids. You had rolled every time he took you, as he changed the positions he wanted you in, smearing all that blood across the bed, across your body.

He had plucked it from you, seed after seed, and left you in his bed like a half-eaten pomegranate waiting for him to resume feasting. He had been born hungry, he will always be hungry.

You left his room. You padded away from it bare, sticky feet slapping against the hardwood floor as you kept walking. Your brain felt empty thoughts not making sense. His bedroom looked like a crime scene; you lying in, the sacrificial lamb at a slaughter.

You hated him.

He was awful, he had forced you into those games to kill, to die, to punish the districts. He had planned to sell you.

He didn't. He hadn't. And now blood ran from your maidenhead, a fountain for his youth, and all you could remember was how good it had felt, how he had fit inside you so perfectly it had never really hurt in the first place. Or maybe history had rewritten itself across the cosmos.

Fresh air hit you as you flung open the doors, sun blinding your face so you simply kept your eyes close letting whatever force commanding you to lead you, until the scent of roses floated into your nostrils.

The garden. The enormous ugly place filled to the brim with ugly white roses. It felt too pure, too clean to be here, like you had invaded Eden and the snake slithered between your thighs. You just stood there staring at a row of blooming flowers letting the horrid smell engulf you.

You couldn't help but think of him, his hair falling out of place, bouncing off his forehead as he thrust into you. You thought of the sweat dripping off his face, plopping onto your parted lips, you despised how good it tasted when it trickled onto your tongue. You thought of the heat in your cheeks when he whispered sweet, vulgar nothings into your ear, how it made you curl your toes.

You thought of how despite your hatred and disgust at him you moaned for him nonetheless.

The flowers didn't smell so awful anymore.

Time passed, you let it, standing there in a thin bloody nightgown and bare feet.

The door creaked open finally and shut behind him. You knew it was him from the shiver that danced down your spine, to the nauseating flip of your stomach as if your subconscious was glad he was there, as if it desired his presence.

A large hand brushed down your arm, "You should stay in bed." You focused on the light splitting through the windows golden and beautiful as he moved your matted hair off your shoulder to press a kiss to bare skin. You winced, the bruises and bites too tender. "Come now, bluebell." He smiled against your neck, "Let me take you back to bed."

"You were gone." It shouldn't have sounded so desperate, so whiny, like you genuinely wanted him there.

He chuckled, "I'm the President sweet girl. I can't be expected to lie in bed fucking you all day."

You were next to your father a large smile on your face as you watched them announced young President Snow. You had gathered in the square to watch it with the rest of your community. They spoke about how the districts were going to do so much better under his authority, how both the districts and Capitol would profit significantly with him taking over. You remember your father being hopeful, maybe a young man like him would bring good change.

"Is that what you wanted?" He planted the kiss under your ear goosebumps erupting over cool flesh. "To wake up again with my cock buried inside of you." He nipped at the shell of your ear, "Or feasting on your cunt." His hardness was pressing into the thin fabric of your nightgown as your body went taut in his arms.

You turned to face him. His eyes were so bright as the sun reflected off of them, and you held back the automatic yes on your tongue. Your gaze flickered around his face trying to read him, understand him even, but it was impossible. He was the President, and you were a victor, and those worlds should have never collided. Yet here you both were creating a black hole in the universe at your entwining.

He moved for you slowly.

You felt frozen feeling him wrap his arm around your body to begin walking back towards the house, numb as servants open the doors for the two of you so he could lead you back to your cage. It wasn't for concern or safety, he would tie you to his bed simply to know you would always be there.

The room had been cleaned by time you reached it, no evidence in sight, besides the blood and cum caked onto your thighs. He tugged at you walking you to the bathing room connected to his, "You scared the servants." He chuckled as he went to the tub and turned it on.

"I'm sorry." It slipped out, a trained response and your eyes fluttered close.

He filled the water with sweet smelling salts and came back towards you tugging your nightgown off your body. You glanced in the mirror at the red hand prints stained into the flesh of your breasts, your neck. You were more wounds than skin, littered with teeth indents, scratches, hickies. "Come here." You did, as steam began to replace the image. You let him help you into the warm water and sank down into it, biting back the sound of pleasure as it soothed every piece of you that was broken and sore. He leaned your head back dipping your tangled hair into the water. "Mhm," He mused sliding his hands along your wet body claiming he was wanting to wash you.

"It feels nice." You whispered his forehead pressed to your shoulder as his hands traveled along your stomach. It shouldn't feel nice, but it did, his gentle hands swimming across your sensitive body.

He didn't respond, but he let go and stood, the sounds of his clothing dropping echoing in the room. You jumped at the sound hoping he wouldn't take you in this tub, praying to whatever god you believed in, and you thought it sounded too close to his name. You knew your body was too sore to handle it, knew you would melt into his palms if he did. He climbed in behind you, his legs sliding along yours, his chest pressed to your back wet hair plastered between bodies. "You enjoyed last night." His hands floated over your legs removing the last remaining evidence of the encounter. You weren't sure if he was asking or telling. His lips ghosted over your shoulders.

"Why me?" You blinked out a tear.

His smile scorched your skin. "You were so pretty when you cried at the reaping." Another tear as you took a sharp breath, all of this because of your pain. It didn't seem like a good enough response for you, there had to me more of a reason why he took it this far. His mouth parted, "I starved him out, sent all his gifts to you, so when I did send something in, something to weaken him, he would eat it." It shouldn't have been so easy to take him down, you always knew that, chalked it up to luck or the element of surprise. The only thing he had managed to do was slice your leg open the scar still plagued on your skin. He did look sickly before his own blood coated his face. Maybe he had been begging to end his life, maybe whatever they gave him was hurting.

Please.

Your vision was blurry, eyes darting back and forth. "You helped me win."

"I saved you, bluebell." He caressed a hand down the center of your chest, where you had plunged that knife, and another tear slipped out. "You should be glad." A thumb stroke, "You should be grateful."

"He's possessive. His obsession can drive him mad sometimes."

It all made sense now in your head. He felt like he was owed something. He went through all of that hard-work to make you win, all that trouble to ensure you walked out alive so he could get his prize...you. You belonged to him, owed him a life debt, and the only way to repay his generosity was handing over every piece he wanted.

You could only stare at the faucet ahead of you as water dripped off into the tub.

Plop, plop.

His hand stilled, "Aren't you going to thank me?" You racked your brain for the answer unsure of what you were supposed to respond with.

Plop, plop.

"Thank you Mr. President, sir." Was the safest option out of your lips, but his body was tense behind you.

Plop, plop.

"For?"

You closed your eyes a slight shake of your head wondering what he possible wanted from you. Your eyes slid back open. He wanted the validation, he wanted gratitude. "For saving me, for making me feel good."

Snow relaxed, a kiss pressed to your shoulder. He was running his hands through tendrils of wet hair his hand slinking between your legs. You stiffened, hand shooting to his wrist to stop him, "What's the matter bluebell?" He whispered in your ear shaking your hand off like it was nothing. "Isn't this what you wanted?" He brushed down your folds as you whimpered for him, "Why you made me leave work early to bring you back to bed?" You felt his pouting lips against your back making a mockery of you, "Why you were so sad I was gone this morning?"

His fingers found your clit rubbing small, slow circles, "It hurts." It didn't, but you were worried if he went further it would, or perhaps it wouldn't and you would wind up screaming his name against the ceramic tub. Both were terrifying.

"I know." He pressed a little harder listening to the whine ricocheting against the walls of the room. "You can take it." You spread your legs for him joints aching at the stretch as your fingers dug into his thighs feeling him rub circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves. "That's my girl." He cooed teeth grazing a tender bruise, and instead of a wince, a moan came out of your mouth. You were leaning into the pain he offered as the fire burned in your core. You closed your eyes fighting the pleasure and desire rippling through every part of you, you wished your body wouldn't burn for him, yet here you were, mouth agape, a mewling mess for him.

Then you did something completely insane and reached between you to run your hand along his hard cock. At first, it was a soft hand down his cock and then you were pumping his length, hearing him release a groan into your skin and you only worked him harder, swirling your hand around him, lightly grazing his balls each time you slid to the base.

"Do you want to fuck me?" He rasped moving his hips with your hand as he brought you closer to your peak.

"Yes." No hesitation. You blamed the rot in your soul.

His hand pressed down harder and you cried out black forming behind your eyes, "Say it." He gritted out.

"I want...to fuck you." A light pinch to your clit making you yelp. "Mr. President sir!"

His hands left your body as he lifted them up allowing free reign to move if you chose to. You sat there for a moment contemplating the decision, then slowly turned to face him. You weren't sure if it was bath water or sweat but his face was misted eyes glazed over, hair disheveled, curling slightly at the ends. He looked younger, he looked like that man you had seen sworn in on stage years ago. You were on your knees between his legs climbing over him, letting his hands find your waist as you shook against him.

There was no going back from this.

You lined him up and sank down. You went slowly this time, letting him stretch you open, letting the sweet thickness of him take you. At some point he had pressed you to his chest, or maybe you had moved, but your teeth were in his shoulder, biting as pain and pleasure melded. "You're so fucking tight." His hands were wrapped around you, gripping you tightly, as you sank down to the hilt moaning out at the delicious feeling of fullness. You clenched around him hearing him hiss fingers digging into your back as they tried to move back down to your hips. You were afraid to move, afraid to take him like this, but you needed more.

So, you rolled your hips against him. He took a sharp intake of breath, fingers pressing in your hips beginning to help your movements, help you grind your pussy onto his cock. You began to pull back, away from him, but he sat up more, gripping the edge of the tub to keep your pace, while his other hand went to your neck forcing your lips on his. It was an open mouth kiss as you whimpered onto his tongue feeling him everywhere. You let him nip at your lip as you licked the roof of his mouth, along his top teeth hands tangling through his hair as you slid up and down on his cock. You clit was grinding against him as your body sucked him in deep pressing in that sweet spot and you knew you were close.

You let your head fall back blind pleasure taking over as you rode him. "Feels good right?" He asked mouth traveling down to sweep across your heavy breast, taking your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue along it. "I make you feel so good hmm?" He mused sucking gently on it. "Treat you so nice." He grabbed the back of your neck forcing your forward once more until your forehead was pressed against his, "So good to you?"

"Yes." You sighed the fire in your core rippling through you ready to explode as water sloshed out of the tub. He began to fuck up into you the new speed sending you over the edge as your body shook in his arms. His hips stuttered and he was spilling inside you with a rough groan. You stayed like that for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each others air.

He smirked at you, "Greedy, greedy girl." He forced you down on his chest as his cock twitch one last time inside you. "Can't get enough can you?"

You couldn't find the words to respond, too dazed to comprehend anything. The ache began to return between your legs, but you were too afraid to move until he let you. He did after a while, and then he cleaned you again, got you out of the tub to dry off and put a new nightgown on.

Soon enough you found yourself sprawled out on his lap as he combed your hair. You glanced up at him, at the concentration in his face, at the stray curls hanging onto his forehead. You brushed them away with your fingers his eyes meeting yours.

He had told you to be more grateful, so you were.

"Thank you Mr. President, sir."

A week had passed and you were sure you were going insane.

He fucked you the moment you opened your eyes, then he would leave for work, only to come back and fuck you through the night. He dressed you in the morning (usually something that allowed him easy access), he had your meals brought up to his room, cleaned you up every evening, and sometimes even permitted you to walk down the hall to the small study he had, to allow you some entertainment of reading.

You couldn't speak to anyone (not that they could respond), you couldn't watch the news, you had no idea what was going on out in the world. Were your parents worried? Did they think you were coming home soon? Were you ever going home?

You picked at your dinner.

Something had changed within you.

Your stomach panged close to the times food was set to be delivered. You began to chew at the skin around your nails with anxiety until someone came through the door, mostly waiting for him. And when he came in, still in his Presidential clothing, you felt wetness seep between your legs. You weren't sure why it was happening or when it had started, but your subconscious had taken over, your body responding in ways you could never control. He had trained it somehow to follow his schedule, to respond to him, and it was working.

You took him greedily each time; ravenous for him, for his mouth on you, his cock inside you. You would wrap your legs around him so tight to pull him closer, mouth on his jaw, breathing the air he gave you, sweat glistening off feverish skin, savoring the warmth of his cum inside you.

You hated him, but you hated yourself more for how much you were beginning to not hate him. He had saved your life, prevented that man from assaulting you, he fed you and washed you, kept you safe and provided for.

But you were locked in a cage; his cage, and you never could see beyond the bars of your inclosure. You stared longingly out the window, pressed your ears to the floorboards just to see, to hear something.

You needed to leave, you needed your sanity back.

He came through the door at his normal time wetness pooling between your thighs. He shrugged off his jacket setting it on the back of the chair and sat down across from you. "How was work?" You asked. So ordinary.

"Dull." He sighed his body sprawled out, his hands across his stomach as he stared at you. "Come here." You were on your feet padding over to him to sit on his lap his cool hand snaking around your waist, "Kiss me." You leaned down and pressed your lips to his feeling the quick sweep of his tongue and you opened your mouth for him. He straightened up pulling you down with a hand on your chin his tongue gently melding with yours. You whimpered into his mouth as his hand came off your face and between your legs. He smirked in your mouth, "Wet for me already?" He nipped at your lip, "I'll never tire of coming home to your soaked pussy."

You body tightened, "Mr. President, sir." You pulled back slightly just as his hands brushed along your folds. You squeezed your eyes trying to remember what you needed to say.

His eyes were studying you intensely. "What is it?"

Don't stutter. "Are you truly going to keep me here forever?"

He stared at you for a second his hand resting on your backside, the other still between your legs. "Isn't that what you wanted?" He began to laugh. "I thought you'd be happier here."

Ice rippled through your skin; he was never planning to let you go. You cleared your throat trying to remain calm. Your eyes flickered around his face. "You're the President, surly you need a Capitol woman for a wife, and it would be bad news if this situation ever got out."

"It won't get out." His hand gripped you a little harder like you would fly away.

"Please," your bottom lip wobbled. "Please let me go. You will tire of me soon enough." Part of you ached at the idea of it, of leaving, but you shoved that lunacy down.

His blue eyes were dark. "No I won't. You belong here, in that bed, drenched the minute I step in the door. You belong to me." His hand squeezed your cheeks moisture spilling across your jaw. "You are mine."

You sighed water welling in your eyes, "You're right." You nodded leaning forward to capture his lips. "I'm sorry." You kissed him again hand reaching behind you. "I'll stay." You lied as your hand wrapped around the plastic fork.

Because why would the give a victor real utensils.

Then you sank it into his hand resting on your ass. You heard him yelp as plastic snapped off, but your didn't stay to see if it drew blood as you ran out of the bedroom. He roared your name. You were sprinting down the hall almost to the stairs when you heard him stomping after you. Guards were rushing up so you turned heading to the upper level of the mansion. You felt like you were in the games all over again, running from them, lungs burning as you took two stairs at a time.

If all else fails you would fling your body out of the window hoping the ground would kill you before he did. You weren't even really sure if he would kill you, or just tie you to the bed like you knew he really wanted. Your freedom had always been an illusion.

You hit the end of the hall when you heard him breathing heavy from the other end. You dared a glance at him blood dripping off of the back of his hand, calm fury on his face. You went to the nearest door fighting with the locked handle to let you in as you heard him come closer. You were sobbing as you tried another door realizing you were trapped in this hall with him, like he had always prepared for something like this to happen.

His hands wrapped around your body, "Nowhere to go now bluebell."

"Stop calling me that!" You cried out thrashing against him.

He gritted his teeth, "Now I'm going to take you back to my room, and you are going to stay there."

You bucked against him. "No! Let me go!"

He flipped you around, hand on your throat, and slammed you into the wall. "What is so wrong with that? Why do you want to leave me so badly after everything I've done for you?" He snarled, eyes wild, "Haven't I been good to you!" You clawed at his arm your feet rising off the ground as he choked you. You stared wide eyed at him, gaping for air that was never coming. You figured it would be okay to die here, knew it was always coming the closer you had gotten to him, and somewhere deep down it made you sad.

"I...loved you." You choked out feeling his hand suddenly pull from you like it had branded him. You held your hand at your throat as he stared down at you, as you tried to catch your breath. "I watched you sworn in as President, and everyone was so hopeful, and I loved you for it. I worshipped you, adored you for that hope, that you might bring change."

You glanced up at him breathing heavily like he had been the one with a hand crushing his esophagus. "When did it stop?"

"When my name got called at the reaping."

He slapped you across the face the skin on your lip breaking as you fell sideways knocking a flower vase to the ground with you. It shattered into pieces, white roses sprawling across the floor with you. "Is that why you take me so well." He spoke from above you. His foot slammed down on your back face banging off the hard wood, "Did you imagine me when you used to touch yourself back in your hovel?" You only glared back at him behind a curtain of hair, blood spilling from your nose. He laughed, "You did." His smile fell, "I've given you everything you ever wanted. I saved you. I spoiled you, and this is how you repay me. So ungrateful."

"I hate you." You spat at him.

The corners of his mouth quirked up. "Hate burns hotter than love."

You screamed as your hand wrapped around a shard of glass and you swiped at him blood dripping from how hard you gripped it. He jumped back but it slashed his perfect cheek. You swiped at him again this time drawing blood from his hand as he held it up to protect himself. That boy's face from 2 flashed in your mind, his poor sick face and you pounced on him straddling his body pressing the jagged edge to his throat.

"Sir?" You knew guns were pointing at you, heard the tap of his fingers on the trigger with each thump of your heart beat. You stopped caring.

He held up a hand, eyes never leaving your face, "It's alright."

You watched your own blood trickle onto his face. Your lip curled back as you pressed harder into his pale soft fresh, but he wasn't scared. He just stared at you.

He knew you wouldn't do it.

So you yanked back and held it to your own throat warm blood leaking down your chest. He rubbed his hands up your legs splaying his fingers across skin. His eyes, gods his eyes, were so calm, so dark and full of desire like he enjoyed the chase, enjoyed watching you bleed and claw for him. The glass clattered to the floor in limp arms feeling his cock straining beneath you, and you...you were aching for it.

Your eyes wobbled as tears fell, "What did you do to me?" Because something had fundamentally changed you, he had fundamentally changed you to crave him this way, rewired you to need him this way. There was no other explanation to describe what coursed through you.

He only stared up at you the slow smirk spreading across his lips. "What did you do to me!" You roared at him needing the answer, needing to know why you could hate him so much, despise him, and need him so desperately.

"I showed you who you are." His hands traveled to rest across your backside. Yours. You remember his nose pressed to yours as you brushed the word against his mouth. You wanted to feel regret at the intimate word you let slip out the first night he took you.

You hated that you had whispered it, hated that you knew it was true simply by the way your hips rolled against his. You ached for him, you wanted him to fill you again, empty at the lack of his commanding presence inside of you. You hated that he had turned you into a whimpering mess starving for his pleasure.

His inherent hunger was contagious and he had made you starving.

He sat up pulling you flush against his body. "I see you." He was so close. "You never needed to plunge that knife into his heart three times. The first had hit home, and he was dying anyways." Hot breath fanned onto your blood streaked face. "I've always seen you for who you are."

Your parted bruised lips brushed his, teeth grazing, tongue darting out in an upward motion to lick into his mouth. Heat pooled in your core as you felt his cock twitch beneath you.

"The victor."

Your hands were rooted in his hair as you crushed your mouths together, it was messy and intoxicating as you consumed him. A battle of teeth and tongue, spit spilling between you both as you refused to come up for air. You pushed him to the ground, tongue down his throat, and a hand down his pants breaking the buttons open to free his cock. He was leaking from the tip and you smeared it down his cock pumping him with your hand as you lined him up with your soaking entrance.

Moaning into his mouth, you sank down onto him until nothing separated your bodies. Your open mouth rested against his parted lips breathing the same air and then you were moving, moving your hips, moving your mouth to taste his jawline, digging your teeth into his neck feeling the metallic taste of his blood rush into your mouth. You rode him harder, foot planted on the ground to move against him better, took back all the blood he had stolen from you. You wanted to rip his throat out, taste his pain, lap him up like nectar until the two of you were nothing but naked muscle. He scratched at your body, shredding open the blood stained pretty white dress he had put you in. You returned the favor, tearing open his shirt, buttons flying across the hall.

It was animalistic, it was primal starvation.

You wanted to feast on him, consume him like he had consumed you. He had carved out a home for himself inside of you and now you wanted to bury yourself in his flesh.

You leaned up his blood running down your chin as you glided your pussy against his cock, clit rubbing along his body. "There she is." He hooked his hand into your mouth and you wrapped your hand around his wrist to suck in his fingers, tasting your mess along them. You would never be full of him. He ripped them away from you smearing the trail of blood down your naked chest. "Go on, make yourself cum on my cock like the little whore you are." You squeezed your eyes feeling that overwhelming feeling creeping up your spine raking your nails down his chest. It feels too good, his cock hitting every right spot, his blood in your teeth, his hand pinching at your nipples. His nails are digging into your hips as he thrust his hips up to meet yours, to fuck you deeper. Your body shakes with the orgasm when it ripples through you, pussy clenching around him moaning out into the open air for him.

And then he's pushing you back, flipping you onto the ground broken glass splintering into your chest. You don't care. You'd bleed for him ten times over, you'd kill that boy every chance you got if it meant Coriolanus Snow would live inside you. He's pulling your hips up until your on all fours and then he slams into you. You cry out, grasping for nothing the force of him shoving your body forward. He yanks you back only to continue fucking you at a brutal pace, rutting into you like a ruthless animal. "You like when I fuck you like the bitch you are hmm?" His hips snap against yours as fingers dig into the flesh of your ass. "You want me to breed you too hmm? My prized little rose," Your nails scratch against wood splintering off as his dick hits your g-spot. "Want to give me little heirs don't you?" He tangles a fist in your hair arching you up, letting your pussy suck him in deeper, "Say it! Say you want my cum you greedy girl."

"Yes." You whimpered. "I want it. Please Coriolanus. I need it."

He wraps a hand around your throat pulling your back up against his chest to thrust up into you, "You're mine, do you understand that. You're never leaving me." He abuses your cervix hand gently squeezing your carotid. "You belong to me." He nips at your ear, "To do whatever I want, whenever I want. Forever."

And that doesn't sound so bad after all.

Your vision goes fuzzy as his hand slides off your neck and in-between your legs rubbing furiously into your clit. "Yours." You whine, hands reaching behind you to grip his hair. He's kissing your neck, sucking and biting at the wound you gave yourself. You're so foolish for running, for wanting to leave this, it was too good to ever leave. He was right; he had spoiled you rotten. He's grunting hot and heavy in your ear, lights dance behind your eyes as you feel his pace pick up, his fingers swirling your bundle of nerves rhythmically.

You're screaming his name to the heavens as your body goes over its peak.

You hate him, gods you hate him. You don't think you could ever stop hating him. But when his cum spills into you as you clamp down around his cock, you think you might worship him.

He drops your shaking, messy body to the hardwood floor as he thrust slowly into you, pushing his cum deeper and deeper, keeping every drop inside. His hand is still rubbing your clit, fucking you into overstimulation and you whine in protest, but he holds you still.

"Shh," He whispered gently, petting your head and you stop fighting him. "Such a good girl." You push your hips back, arching for him more. "My pretty girl." Your arousal drips down your leg, onto the floor as he leans down and kisses your spine. "Come on give me one more." You couldn't stop it if you tried as he pressed a little harder, softening cock twitching against a sensitive spot, his cum still warm inside you. His thumb rolled over your nipple, tugging and playing with the bud and when it was taut and throbbing he moved to the other one. It was overwhelming, feeling him everywhere like he was stuck under your skin. Your thighs were shaking, but he's holding you up as nails scratch against wood until they chipped.

The pressure dragged you under and you threw your head back your climax exploding around you as you came one more time. You could barely move, barely see straight, only slightly feeling him take his hand off your clit, only slightly feeling his cock start to harden again inside you.

He flips you over onto your back as you gaze up at him in a daze. His mouth is on your breast lazily running his tongue along your sensitive nipple. You mewl for him.

"Are you going to run away again?" He asked. You shake your head. His nose began to drag up your neck until it was pressing into yours. "Are you going to be ungrateful again?" You shake your head. His mouth lingered at your ear, "Are you happier here?"

He straightened up to stare down at you, stare down to where his cock slowly begins to thrust in and out of you again, stare down as you open for him more, stare down as maroon stains your chin, your chest, as your mouth parts his blood coating your teeth.

"Yes Mr. President, sir."

He smiled down at you.

He told you he was getting married with his tongue between your thighs, gave you all the reasons he couldn't marry you. You were district after all, and he was the President. You didn't really listen as you orgasmed against his face.

He married Livia Cardew a few months later.

You weren't allowed at the wedding.

"You understand don't you bluebell?" He stroked your cheek as he got himself dressed taking in the sight of you lying naked on his bed cum leaking from your cunt.

She didn't know about you, you had figured that out on their wedding night when she had barged into his room, demanding to know why he wasn't spending it with her, screaming at the sight of him pile driving into you on his bed.

He made her sit and watch. He forced her into a chair as he took you over and over again, as you screamed her husband's name as he made you cum, as he spilled inside of you making her stare horrified when he took his fingers and shoved every spilled drop back inside you.

She tried to leave then, realizing the situation at hand, but he threatened to cut out her tongue before she left or he could string her corpse above his mansion door...whatever she chose.

She stayed.

You knew sometimes she would listen, listen to how he would fuck you into the long hours of the night, how you cried his name as you rode him. How you begged him to fuck you again once he had finished. You knew she hated seeing you next to him at the dinner table knowing her husband's cum was leaking between your thighs, that your teeth were the ones marking his skin.

He implanted you with birth control, you figured it would happen. You knew he couldn't have children with you, couldn't have district blood tainting the presidency line despite his want to breed your obedience into his children. Only on some occasions when he fucked you, he had to finish into a cup to bring to the doctor to artificially get Livia pregnant. He brought you beautiful roses every time he had to do it.

And once a year, he got to parade you on his arm for the annual hunger games. He loved watching you tuck into him to get away from lusting men, loved fucking you in the bathroom when the speeches were done. You didn't care if anyone could hear you, if Mags was disgusted by you.

You didn't care anymore. Not about Livia, not about how much you didn't hate him anymore, not about the games, not about your sad garden wilting away in District 6.

Coriolanus let you tend to his pretty, sweet smelling white roses.

You were a victor, his victor.

So, when you glanced over at him in the middle of the night, sleeping, moonlight spilling onto his peaceful features and you thought about slitting his throat, you decided to climb on top of him. You reached under the blankets, pumped his cock until it was hard and sank down onto him, fucking him awake.

"Such a good girl." He would kiss your cheek as his cum coated your walls.

"Thank you Mr. President, sir."

THE END

endnotes: ((this was supposed to be so much darker but god said 'no girl dont do that' lmao)) OMG IM SO SAD THIS IS OVER!! thank u so much for sticking with me and reading and all the kind words!!

divider credit: @rookthornesartistry

tags: @wearemadeofstardust0 , @astarborntowrite , @genderfluid-anime-goth , @merlieve , @darktrashsoulbear , @euphemiaamillais , @dousyskid , @bunny24sstuff , @bloobewy , @tmblrsexyw0man , @italiekim , @anthgoldenhrry , @becauseseaotters bold is tumblr wouldn't let me tag

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coryo x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #fanfic #hunger games #president snow #president snow x reader #coryo smut #coryo snow

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