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mwolf0epsilon · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 15: Emotional Damage

Prompt: New Scars

Summary: The Madame notices one of her favourite dancers has a new scar. She is rightfully concerned.

[I promised myself this random background character wasn't going to become an oc, yet here we are... Either way, I like to imagine there's an unspoken truce between the Coruscant Guard and the red light district workers...]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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The Red Light District on Coruscant was no stranger to desperation. Oftentimes those who found work there had not done so because they wanted to be a part of the seedy underbelly. That said Madame Orquídea had done her best to set up a more reputable establishment.

Her brothel was home to hundreds of men and women she'd pulled from the streets herself. It was a venue of many pleasures, but also a safe haven for those who really had nowhere else to go.

Those who wanted to work there could do so. Their boundaries set and respected.

Those who were far too young were cared for. Protected from the cruelties of the lower levels.

It wasn't perfect, but it worked. Madame Orquídea had made it work. Her veteran dancers and sex workers helped her make it work. The men and women of the night looked out for each other. Looked out for their most vulnerable.

Which was why she noticed when one of her favourite boys came in looking all sorts of rough...

Thorn was most definitely a looker. All of the clones were beautiful by most humanoid standards and (while she wasn't exactly into humans) even she could see the aesthetic values of their features.

Nicely chiseled features. Soft round edges. Defined musculature. Tan skin.

Dark eyes with a glint of mischief to them. Flaming ringlet red hair with frosted tips. A well trimmed beard often styled with archaic braids. A gentle and seductive smile surrounded by flushed lips.

And, of course, the thing that attracted attention: The scars. Many of the Madame's patrons were suckers for a noticeable scar. And Thorn was covered in them.

Faded lines carving into the canvas of his body. Promising harrowing tales of untold horrors. A soldier's body fit into burlesque attire, swaying to the rhythm of the venue's tunes. Showing off those intricate secrets of his.

They always looked nice coated in glittery paints that glowed in the low lights. A tiger striped warrior.

The newest addition still looked red and angry however. And it was big. Too big to ignore. Too big not to be concerned about his well being. The Madame liked Thorn after all...

"It's too early to put make-up on that... It will sting terribly." She used one claw to carefully push the hand holding the brush down. The other raised up to gently cradle his face. Or as gentle as a Yaam'rii's claw could be. "You already hurt when you work up above... You shouldn't have to hurt down here too..."

"It'll be fine." Thorn gave her a sheepish smile. The new line carving his face twisted slightly. So much so she was worried it'd split open. "I've had worse."

His smile dropped after that. Probably knowing that hadn't been the answer she was looking for. It didn't look good on him, the frown. Thorn was more himself when he had a great big grin upon his bearded face.

"I know you have dear... I just wish you didn't have to." She sighed sadly at the reality of his situation. Of all of their situations.

The Republic was not kind to clones. Just as it was not kind to those who dwelled down under in the lower-levels of Coruscant. Getting by doing things most considered reproachful.

Most did not understand that they were merely trying to survive. Many even judged them for it. Dared think they'd chosen this life. It was why the Red Light District had very few issues with the Coruscant Guard.

The clones understood what it was like. At least the ones clad in red and white armour did.

And the Madame did her best to protect the ones that came into her establishment looking for work. They were all gentle folks at heart, despite having been bred for war. They deserved protecting just as much as anyone else that came into her care.

She just wishes they knew that themselves...

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober2022 #commander thorn #red light district #burlesque dancing

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marshmellowtea · 2 years

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as a agere date, y/n and Actor go to build a bear then get some coffee/hot chocolate.

okay first of all i left this in my askbox for far too long given how much this appeals to me how did you know that build a bear is my weakness hgilaskdgji /j

second of all YES that's so cute......in my head actor tends to be really shy when he's regressed in public (at least when he's aware he's little, i think he regresses unknowingly sometimes and he tends to be less self unconscious in those cases dhglksdj) so i'm imagining him cuddling in to y/n's side as they enter the store, hiding his face in their side and getting all flustered when the employee says hi to him waaaa 😭

he's so thorough when he looks through each of the stuffed animals, considering each of them very seriously (he's choosing a new friend both for him and his other stuffies, after all!!) and once he finds one he connects with he lets y/n lead him to the stuffing machine, letting them talk to the employee and whispering his answers into their ear about what he wants.......it's so sweet he's not usually this shy at home or when he's out when he's big and it just MELTS them (also thinking about y/n putting a personalized audio message in.......hhh)

if y/n is REALLY planning on spoiling him they let him dress his friend up too and he takes that just as seriously (his new friend has to look just as good as he does ofc), and he's so proud of his work.......he keeps smiling at his stuffy as they're checking out and mumbling to y/n about their backstory because of course he's already writing one in his head, he's a storyteller at heart! and y/n keeps smiling back at him as they pay, shooting the fondest looks at their baby because he's so excited and happy about their new friend and they did that for him! they gave him something that's making him smile so big and so sweetly and they also can't stop smiling like an idiot because god he's so cute he's so happy this is all they wanted out of this trip :')))

and yessss......build a bears are often in malls so i can see them stopping by a starbucks or a little coffee shop they have in there, or maybe they decide to go somewhere a little more fancy and indie (i certainly love me a an indie coffee shop lol). normally, mark is a certified caffeine fiend but i think when he's little he jumps for sweetness first over that and honestly, he gets a little hyperactive on caffeine when he's small anyway so y/n probably steers him away from it as best they can XD but i'm also sure y/n gets a sweet coffee drink of their own though and lets him have a sip because he's spooooiiileeed let him have the best of both worlds hgldksajgklasdf

uhhh sorry i let this get long but this is just......this is perfect omfg i'm obsessed with this idea 🥺

#you actually got me on the build a bear website HLKFJSDKLF and for actor i'm looking at the pink cuddles bear or the red rose bear #i actually have a red rose bear and he's not very soft unfortunately BUT he is super handsome :) probably the best contender for him ngl #but i guess they can go to build a bear more than once......probably not too close together because Money but y'know ahlkgjdslg #ngl i know pink is a wilford color but i also associate it with actor a little cuz actor's color is red and pink is just lighter red jgkdsl #but that's off topic oops #yeah goddddd......i'm soft i kinda wanna write a fic about this......maybe.......i already have a huge to write list gjkladsjgkl #so we'll seee #who killed markiplier #actor mark #y/n the district attorney #agere #marshy gets asks #red-pillpop #long post

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verybadfairy · 2 years

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🍨 Cherry Sundae 🍨

My sunny Sunday afternoon best friend

dyed my hair more cherry

than a cherry sundae with cherries on top

and took me down to Chicago’s Fashion

District, where

they sell rose-colored sunglasses and

prayer candles

with Kurt Cobain on the label

to bitches who pray to dead rock stars

(bitches like me).

I bought a fool’s gold necklace

with little lightning bolts all over it that

Sunday and I put it on

for the first time at the airport on Monday.

On Tuesday, I’m beautiful, dirty, rich

just like the song, and I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry, Mom.

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🍒 Jack Nox Warner 🍒

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amikotsu · 2 months

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Kakashi, staring at Itachi: “Hm. So you weren't always a whore.”

Itachi, expression blank: “Do you think any of us were born in this pleasure house?”

Kakashi: “Your mouth gets you into trouble, doesn't it?”

Itachi: “That's usually why men keep it occupied.”

#kakaitaweekwips #kakaita #kakashi x itachi #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha #teaser #fanfic writing #my writing #red light district #suggestive

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welcome-to-the-districts · 3 months

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Consultation

Quick little one-shot featuring Amira. Tw for mentions of blood. One-shot under the cut.

Flat-Top swallowed nervously as he skated through the dark halls. The sound of gears grinding filled the air as he glanced around the halls. His eyes were perfectly adapted to seeing in such dim lighting, a gift bestowed upon the rolling stock by the Starlight Express itself. He dreaded the conversation he was bound to have with Amira. He knew she was busy with paperwork while she wasn’t barking orders to the guards left and right. He skated off to the side as a human rushed past him with a shaken expression on their face. No doubt they knew of what happened here on the regular. Flat-Top shuddered at the mere thought of it. He slowed to a stop before two massive crimson doors with stunning baroque lifted engravings cast in silver. The door itself had to be several hundred feet tall and easily over fifty feet wide, as if it were built to accommodate a machine of gargantuan proportions.

He took a deep breath as he reached towards the door’s controls. It was button operated, one for closing, another for opening. The controls were inlaid a black metal plaque and the buttons were the color of ruby. He pressed one of the buttons and he stepped back as he watched the gears of the opening mechanism turn on the very top of the enormous doors. The locking mechanism clicked, signifying it was unlocked before the doors slowly swung open, revealing an office that gave off a warm glow of flickering fire light.

“Come in! Make it quick!” A familiar voice demanded from within the office. Amira’s tone was sharp and her tongue sharper. Flat-Top winced slightly at the tone before he entered the office and the large doors swung closed behind him. The concrete floors gave way to Bloodwood floors accented with ruby rugs with hand sewn silver intricate baroque patterns. The office walls towed over him, taller than the doors by a good ten feet. They were the color of blood with golden intricate patterns with silver highlights. In the very center of the wall was a fireplace. The fire was burning strong as always, no doubt ignited by Amira’s fiery breath judging by the immense heat.

There was an array of furniture, each in varying sizes, as if they were made of machines of all different sizes. Surprisingly, there was a sofa that easily reached over fifty feet tall that matched the rest of the room. It was accompanied by a much smaller arm chair, also matching the overall look of the room. An end table or two, both matching the height of the armchair and the couch sat right next to the two seats. Each had a lamp, both were turned off. The fireplace provided plenty enough light to illuminate the room in a warm welcoming glow. The light licked at the silver accents of the rugs, walls, and furniture.

There, in the center of the room itself were two desks. One was large enough to fit a rolling stock his size. The other was absolutely massive, towering over him as if it were built for something that couldn’t possibly exist, yet there she was, sitting on a chair, busily filling out paperwork, Amira.

Amira wasn’t in her easily recognizable humanoid form. No. Behind closed doors, she almost never was. Instead, she was in the form of a massive and impressive beast. Her long, muscular body was black as the night sky in color. Her underbelly was the color of blood and pleasantly plump with a few layers of fat that simply added that much more to her appearance. Her hair was now a silver mane that ran down the length of her neck. It was thick and perfectly soft to the touch of those who would dare to run their fingers through it. Her face had a similar shape to a mix of a diesel and steam locomotive with a crimson cowcatcher on her chin. On her nose was the shield of the Union Pacific logo. The blue stripes stretched ever so slightly across the sides of her snout, ending at her nostrils. Each nostril had a blood red horn just just behind each one.

She had six limbs in total and was sitting in an odd manner. Her second pair of legs were in a perfectly comfortable position, resting on the front of the chair, where as the third pair were sitting similar to a dog’s. The chair had a large enough gap in the back of it to allow the rest of her body to rest comfortably. A pair of arms, and two pairs of legs. As for each wheel on her body, there was a limit of some sorts. Each limb ended with clawed paws. Each claw was crimson, almost as if she had dipped them into the sweet nectar of life they all craved itself and were easily as long as he was tall. Her great size easily reached several hundred feet in height. However, the most striking feature on her body were the horns that curled in such an unnatural manner, like great red swirls. Each horn had a prong in the middle, not exactly useful, but sharp and long enough to gore someone if they were unfortunate enough to find themselves at the receiving end of her wrath. She dipped one of her claws into the black ink before she continued to fill out the piece of paperwork, using her claw like a pen.

He cleared his throat and Amira froze. Her draconian ears pinned back against her skull. Her ruby gaze slowly lifted from the paperwork as she turned her large head to look at him. She was wearing her formal attire, having just returned from a meeting. The top of her outfit was cropped just slightly above her plump belly. Chains that were large enough to be used for logging operations rested against her collarbone and against the very collar of her outfit as it stretched across her chest , having been attached to her attire using strong material.

The lower half started just before her second set of limbs and another chain rested on her thighs, stretching across them. It draped over her back and covered the front part of her body and partially her legs. There was a considerable gap just at the side of her second pair of legs, allowing her easier movement. The lower half came to an end just a bit before the very end of her body. The rear looked similar to an engine’s, double acting as a large bobtail.

“What is it you want this time, Flat-Top?” Amira’s voice had softened slightly as her ruby gaze studied him. He felt so small and insignificant compared to her. She could easily crush him if she ever wanted to. Thankfully, she was an ally of his, a very close one at that.

“I was wondering with blood moon coming in the next week… You think I should just.. you know.. isolate myself? I feel like these instincts are a curse.. I never asked for them. I don’t want to risk harming anyone around me. You know how I feel about that, Amira..” Flat-Top averted her gaze, looking down at the floor as he fiddled with his thumbs. Amira narrowed her eyes at him.

“That is up to you, but mind you, your instincts are not a curse. They are a gift. Use them wisely.” Amira turned her attention to her paperwork, dipping the same claw in the ink once more, using it to fill out her paperwork. Flat-Top looked up at her.

“Amira.. please.. you don’t understand. These instincts are dangerous! Why should a gift be so dangerous?!” Flat-Top protested. He stopped as he saw Amira tense up slightly. She was not one to be talked back at and he knew it. He slowly skated back.

“Amira, I’m sorry..”

Amira whipped her head around it face him before she stood up. Her great bulk towering over him as her silhouette loomed over him, blocking most of the light from the fire place. He fell back onto his rear and scooted back further, one arm raised defensively. She crossed her strong arms and growled deep in her chest. The girls sounded like thunder to him, shaking the office.

“The instincts are neither bad nor good. It depends on how you wield such a tool. We survived and evolved for thousands of years thanks to our instincts. We still rely on them to keep ourselves alive. They are not something to be feared. They are something to be embraced! The more you deny them, the worse they will be when you finally lose control. Control is needed, yes, but that’s why our laws cover such things. You may kill a human, but you cannot kill another machine. Even then, the instincts do not always abide by our laws, only following the laws of nature itself. You are in denial of your teeth, boy! Sharpen them! Use them! They are the best tool you could possibly have at your disposal. They ensured our kind’s survival for far longer than you and I have ever existed! Do not throw away such a tool, a gift. Heed my warning boy, we must not follow humanities’ morals, as they do not follow our values, our history, our government! You and I are equal to animals. Where we are today is a result of us clawing our ways up the social ladder and making a name for ourselves. We evolved throughout our lifetimes, just as how the many other lifeforms had done over the course of millions of years. We abide by our laws, our own morals from a reality we forged from the fires of ire and vengeance. This is the reality you contributed to, and yet you fear the truth glaring you right in the face? You cannot deny who you are, boy. You and I both know it. Embrace it. Embrace those instincts that were gifted to you. Do not waste them, shun them or fear them. They are a part of you just as you are a part of it. Heed my warning boy, your instincts are your strongest tools, your weapons. Ignoring them or hiding them will bring nothing but danger to those around you.”Amira’s sharp glare rested upon him as her booming voice echoed throughout the halls of the great fortress. Flat-Top didn’t want to admit it, but he knew she was correct. If she wasn’t the captain of Greaseball’s guard, she would have made an excellent politician. She had years to hone her skill, her craft. Those many years paid off, as she had clawed her way up to where she was now.

“I shouldn’t have said anything..” Flat-Top trailed off. His fear was replaced with guilt as he averted her sharp gaze. Amira’s ruby eyes softened and her colossal body relaxed. One of her draconian ears flicked idly as she sighed.

“You’re fine, boy. I know you’re still young. You’re still afraid of the world around you, learning new things about yourself. I was like that once. Embrace who you are. Do not fear it, but do not let the instincts consume you. You saw what happened to Joule didn’t you? You watched the instincts take hold and turn her into what she is now. We all did.” Amira’s tone was much softer than before. He knew she genuinely cared for him. She always did, having had a soft spot for him from the beginning. She rarely showed it, but he always was able to pick up the subtle hints of her body language. Her voice hid the truth, but the way she moved did not. The softening of her tone and her body relaxing as she saw him in such a state was more than enough proof for him.

“I know. Just worried is all, but.. You’re right. I shouldn’t worry about them. It makes them worse.. Stress amplifies it.. Along with anger. I’m getting better with my anger, I am. I just.. Need time and consistency.” Flat-Top slowly stood up. For once, Amira’s mouth turned to a gentle toothy grin. Her sharp teeth were easily the size of a small car. Yet, Flat-Top was unphased. The fear of her had already done and gone ages ago.

“I know. Now-” Amira stopped as she heard a series of small knocks on the door. She stood up straight and cleared her throat. “What is it?” Her tone of voice returned to it’s usual sharp nature, always demanding answers, demanding respect.

“Madame Amira, Greaseball has decided he’d like to make a public appearance. He’d like you to accompany him. Crusher will be with Dinah.” a meek voice, no doubt a guard, spoke from behind the door.

“Hmph. Very well then! Give me a moment!” Amira called out. She looked down at the brick truck. “Apologies, we will have to continue this conversation another time.” Amira bowed her head slightly. Flat-Top nodded and was quick to skate off to the side before Amira stormed out of her office. The whole fortress seemed to shake as her voice boomed through the halls, barking orders to clear the way. He peered out from the enormous doors before he skated out into the halls. Amira was harsh with her words, yet she provided him with a much needed sense of closure in terms of his instincts.

#starlight express #stex #starlight express oc #stex oc #Amira #The Red Beast #district!au #starlight express au #stex au #stex flat top #starlight express flat top #my writing

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heirbane · 3 months

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I'm comfy enough posting tagged adult content that is more common to this blog and it's triggers but the minute I touch a new tag I'm like. The pitchforks are going to find me and raid my apartment

#ⅹⅳ loci phantasma ( ooc. )#ive mentioned g.aius buying women in ku.gane before as a passing thought given the notority of red light districts in asia #and i do think he has some callous off color jokes in him somewhere. he's almost fucking 60. the man doesn't really know tact outside of -#g.arlean customs. so teasing someone - who is also v familiar with k.ugane - about a price seems like something he'd do #(it also like insinuates that g.aius knows most ppl wont sleep with him unless they gain something from it -#I mean. gestures. again. he's a broken old man.)#but. still #dont perceive me #me: i will write any and all content i want on this blog #also me: has to contextualize a passing jab because what if someone cancels me for it

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ervotica · 6 months

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please don’t go, i love you so

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: a lil toxic!coriolanus, he’s rough with r, possessive talk, quite tame in this but imma tamp it up soon, a bit of making out and being lovey

note: i do not careee about who likes this character or who doesn’t okay i am writing about him because he is literally one of the hottest men i’ve ever seen, kay? i’m not here for moral dilemmas thank u, enjoy (yes i will follow up w smut and my young!coriolanus snow reqs are OPEN!) please please remember to comment and rb, it helps me so much!

hunger games masterlist

Coriolanus is possessive.

It sickens him to his very core, sends nausea rolling like a wave through his chest; he’s not a child. Yet, the mere sight - thought - of you engaging with any other man, even innocently, is enough to have him seeing red: white-knuckled, muscles drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to eliminate any and all threat standing between him and his girl.

It's the way those boys look at you. As if you're a piece of meat, a toy to play with that they're just begging, aching to sink their teeth into, to leave a permanent mark on. The boys in this district are barbaric- that's what Coryo thinks anyway. It's disgusting, the things that he knows they think about you.

It's been a long day in District Twelve. Coriolanus' grey jumpsuit rubs and itches and his skin crawls with an uneasiness settled at the pit of his stomach. It's a warm day, his skin sticky as he peels the top half of the jumpsuit from his slender arms and ties it neatly around his waist. The grass by the lake is damp with the leftover dew from the morning.

He catches sight of you amongst the trees, weaving and bobbing through the undergrowth as you do, your lithe fingers brushing against leaves. Your head dips and then raises as his tall figure creeps into your peripheral vision. A smile graces your features, real and earnest with all your teeth.

There’s a slight waver in your countenance when you catch Coriolanus’ own expression; his brows are knit, pushing his forehead into a crease, lips pushed together tersely.

You walk straight into his arms, balancing yourself on one leg and pushing your shoulder underneath his armpit. You needle your way in, your forehead rested against his chin, so close you can feel his breath against your face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you murmur. You reach up to push out the ridge in his brow and your thumb traces the bridge of his nose in a way that couldn’t be perceived as anything other than unbridled affection. “Something wrong?”

His slender fingers settle against your waist. You shiver at the contact when he spins and pushes you back into a tree. The bark digs into your back as you shuffle to meet his eyes— his eyes that have suddenly clouded with something dark and possessive.

“What is it?” you ask again; your voice is becoming more strained the longer he stays quiet, your own hands snaking up his arms like vines and squeezing.

He shakes his head and drops his face to look at you properly.

“Nothing. I have you.”

“Okay.” You click your tongue, tilting your head at him. His face gravitates towards yours, breath hot and mixing with your own. “You gonna kiss me or what, handsome?”

He doesn’t need any encouragement, surging forward to catch your lips between his own; his hands are rough, kneading the soft flesh of your hip. His other makes its way up to your jaw, fingertips pressing so hard you’re sure he’s branding you. You’ve never been kissed like this, with such fervour and passion and need. You gasp into his mouth and your arm wraps around his neck to pull him further into you.

“Coryo,” you pant.

“Shh,” he forces out, his fingers suddenly an iron grip around your neck; the hollow of your throat is bared to him and bobs under his cruel touch.

“Coriolanus, that hurts,” you say, strangled. His eyes are alight with a fire, a blazing inferno roaring in his head as he squeezes your throat and laughs.

You wheeze, clutching at his wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip. He obliges you, running a thumb over the indents he’s left in your soft skin to smooth them away.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” he asks. His head drops to the juncture of your neck, arms hooking loosely around your middle as he relaxes into you. “I just wanted to feel you. To know you’re mine.”

The incident is forgotten as soon as it ends. He has a charm in that sort of way; you don’t see his faults even when he shows them to you clear as day. You’ll never see what’s right in front of you even if he wants you to.

“Of course I’m yours, Coryo. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The way they all look at you here…” He falters. “Like they all want you. Like they want to take you away from me. You’re mine- they have to understand that.”

“No one could take me away from you,” you giggle, your temple resting against the tip of his shoulder so you can duck your head to meet his eyes. “I know where I belong. And that’s right here with you.”

“Good.” He mouths at your neck like a man starved, arms coming right up until they’re hooked just underneath your own. He pulls away heaving for breath.

“Wanna show me just where you belong?”

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfic #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #coryo snow #writing for fun #coriolanus snow smut

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

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hii!! could i request a snow fic where she finds out she cheats on him and voluntarily tributes and hes trying to get her back? i loved the other fics!! I NEED MORE CHEATING SNOW FICS OMGG

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy. || Young President!Coriolanus snow x district!reader

A/n: Sorry anon I hope you’re not disappointed that I didn't fully write your request. I wanted Coryo to lowk suffer in this which is why I didn't dive into details of him getting her back. There is also one scene that is heavily inspired by a scene in the movie Priscilla! I also spent so many hours perfecting this and it was super fun!!!

Warnings: fem!reader, implied infidelity, toxic!coriolanus, manipulation, not proofread, if there's anything else pls lmk!

Wc: 1609

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The rapid clicks echoed throughout the hallway, the sound reverberating off the 12-foot-high ceiling walls. You walk with an eager stride, each step filled with anticipation as you take the familiar route to Coriolanus' office where he spent most, if not, all of his time cooped up in due to the upcoming hunger games.

There was a heaviness in your heart. You have always been the epitome of grace and composure, a woman who played her role in the political theater with finesse, albeit your brief upbringing in district 2. However, behind closed doors, the truth unfolded, resulting in you heartbroken and most of all betrayed. You couldn't ignore the letters that would pile up weekly, the gifts, all for him, from someone by the name Lysandra.

Not bothering to knock, knowing it would provoke a reaction from him, you forcefully swung the double doors open. There sat Coriolanus Snow, seemingly unbothered at your entrance. "Is there a problem?" An icy, impersonal tone carried his words, sharp and emotionless.

Your nose flared as you felt a surge of frustration, his lack of concern and emotion fuelling your anger. Besides, you had never stormed into his office unannounced before. Surely, he would question your sudden abruptness and, visibly, your anger.

Your voice, though filled with a trembling resolve, posed the question, "Who is she?" You hold a letter between your fingers, lifting it up to show him. He lifts his head up from his papers. "And why on earth is she sending my husband gifts and-and love letters?" You stammer, throwing the piece of paper with writing and a kiss—in the form of a lipstick mark in a shade of deep red—on his desk; your façade crumbling at your feet.

Snow stares at you before a scoff leaves his lips, leaning back on his chair. "You know how the people admire me, it's likely that whoever it is, she's simply passionate about expressing her feelings to me," Coriolanus shrugs. Your eye twitches at his response. Lies.

"Really? Well, Lysandra is ever so passionate about expressing her undying love for you," You recite the words from her letter as you watch a subtle glint of knowing in his eyes, "She's the only one who has described her so-called affection for you so intimately!"

As you question your husband's loyalty, an unsettling quiet settles around him. His eyes, cold and calculating, hold yours without a trace of vulnerability. The absence of words from his lips becomes a formidable response, leaving an ominous uncertainty lingering in the air.

His office echoed with a tense hush, broken only by a subtle tapping of his fingers against the armrest in a rhythmic patter. "For god's sake, Coryo. Say something! Who is she?" The slip of his nickname makes you swallow.

"I won't entertain your accusation. She's merely an admirer, nothing more! Have you finished exhausting yourself with this matter, wife?" Coriolanus seethes, abruptly standing up as he gathers his papers, opens his drawer, shoves them in, and slams it shut with such force that you swore you felt it in your bones.

"Is there something your hiding from me?" There was a tense silence that followed your question, Snow's features contorted with a mix of frustration and defiance. Avoiding eye contact, he clenched his jaw and emitted a sharp exhale. The air was thick with unspoke tension, revealing an anger that simmered beneath the surface.

"I have nothing to hide from you," He says calmly but you knew damn well there was anything but calmness within him. Annoyed and frustrated at the lack of information, you open your mouth again.

'"Throughout our entire marriage, I have done nothing but showed you how grateful I am that you chose me to marry, a district girl. You helped me build a reputation here in the capitol so that I would finally be respected, and now, I ask just one simple thing of you," As you speak your voice wavers slightly, revealing the depth of emotion behind your words. "Who is she to you?"

In mere seconds, Coriolanus storms past you, a blur of motion, leaving you momentarily bewildered as you blink, only to find yourself in the same spot. "Coriolanus!" You yell, spinning around as you follow him. "I've just had about enough of you for today y/n," He spat as he briskly walked up stairs, you following him. Servants who were around hurriedly walk pass, heads down.

He steps into your shared private chamber, adorned with decadent furnishings and overlooking the Capitol. He walks a couple steps before he just stops. His breath came in heavy, rhythmic waves, his chest rising and falling with urgency, leaving you standing frozen at the entrance.

"You know, I think you should go see your family for a little while," He turns around as you felt your heart drop. "What?" Your voice echoed with a helpless tone. "You heard me, I think your family has been missing you in the districts, go pay them a visit. Tell them how grateful you have been that I chose you as the First Lady of Panem, hm?"

He takes purposeful strides to the next room, filled from top to bottom with expensive, lavish pieces of clothing befitting both him and you. Coriolanus then pulls out a travelling trunk. The thought of you going back to district 2 sent shivers up your spine. You knew that everyone there now thinks of you as a traitor.

"What- No- Coryo, I'm not going-" Coriolanus cuts you off with a yell, tears forming in your eyes, "I think you should! Matter of fact, I'll help you start packing." A loud noise comes from the trunk making contact with the floor making you jump, a sob leaving your lips. The trunk opening as he starts aggressively pulling your clothes from the black velvety hangers, tossing them into the trunk.

"Coryo- please. Don't make me go back there," You fall to you knees in front of the trunk as your shaky hands remove the pieces of clothing from it. "Yeah, well I think a few months in the districts, away from your lavish life here, will make you realise how easy it is that I can send you back there." He forcefully takes your chin in between his thumb and index as your glassy eyes stare back at his icy, raging, blue eyes.

"Please, please don't send me back there-" Your beg becomes interrupted as he drops his grip on you and yells out the door, "Simon! Get the train ready now for Y/n to go back home!" He calls out to his assistant who answers out a "Of course Mr. President," You let out another sob as you rest your head on the pile of clothing.

Coriolanus glances over his shoulder, his breaths lingering in the air, he could hear your quiet pleas. There's a yearning within him, a desire to approach you and envelop you in a reassuring hug, to tell your that everything is alright and that forgives you. Yet, and unyielding pride restrains him, holding him back from acknowledging that what he was doing was wrong.

With one final look, he turns around, leaving you in a crying mess. Coriolanus was going to send you back to district 2 until the hunger games finished, then, he would come get you and hope that your time there made you ponder your actions, although he knew they were quite reasonable.

Your allegiance to your husband shattered when you were forced onto the train, Coriolanus stood a couple metres away from you as you squirm in the peacekeeper's grips. As you made your way back to a place you once called home, a quiet determination settled within you as you hatched a plan that would not only expose Coriolanus' betrayal, but also allow you to reclaim a piece of your shattered identity.

As the Reaping day approached, you made a choice that sent shockwaves through the carefully orchestrated world of Panem. With a steady hand, you inscribed your own name on a slip of paper and placed it in the glass ball, committing yourself to the Hunger Games.

On the day of the Reaping, the Capitol Square buzzed with anticipation, the districts, not so much. Coriolanus, very much unaware of his wife's hidden actions, stood in front of the dignitaries on the stage.

The customary ceremony began, the escort pulls a slip pf paper from the glass ball, announcing the male tribute who would face the Capitol's twisted version of justice.

As the tension mounted, the escort unfolded a slip of paper and read aloud, "Y/n Snow." A gasp rippled through the crowd, and Coriolanus's face contorted with disbelief. Time seemed to free as he processed the shock of seeing his wife's name called out. Surely there was a mistake.

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, and anger boiled within him, mixing with the shock and confusion as the crowd erupted in whispers. A woman of Capitol elegance was now standing among the district 2 residents.

You weave through the rows of people, maintaining a stoic expression. As you step up on the stage, your eyes land on the camera a couple feet away from you where you know Snow was watching back in the Capitol.

Coriolanus stared at your face and in that moment, he saw the resolve and defiance that had replaced the hurt in your eyes. The Capitol, known for its love of spectacle, witnessed an unprecedented turn of events. Coriolanus Snow, the powerful President, was rendered speechless as his own actions came back to haunt him in the cruelest twist of fate.

#fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus snow fanfiction #possesive!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tom blyth #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #Coriolanus snow x district!girl #district 2 #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #hunger games #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games fanfiction #hungergamesx

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ghostfacd · 6 months

Text

THIN LINE

based on this thought

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

genre: fluff, a bit of angst, descriptions of killing, they’re like in love ig, ooc!snow (he’s still crazy LMAO), SPOILERS for the ballad of the songbirds & snakes, Snow and reader being disgustingly touchy 💀

summary: in which there is a thin line in between yours and coriolanus’ friendship and something more, leading to a sudden shift in your dynamic

“Coryo! I passed! Coryo!” You shriek in excitement as Casca Highbottom passes one of your papers back. It had taken quite your strength when you were given the task to make new proposals and implements for the new Hunger Games, crying to your best friend Coriolanus about how you’ll never get it done on time.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, looking over at your paper. There was a bright red A+ along with the sloppy cursive writing of Good Job Miss. L/N!

“Good job,” Coriolanus says, snaking his arms over to pull you back into his chest, placing a sloppy but soft kiss on your cheek. “Knew you had it in you.”

The scene makes Arachne Crane let out a moan of disgust, rolling her eyes as she turned to another corner.

“What’s wrong Arachne?” One of her friends asked, and she only points to the two of you, who were too engrossed in each other to notice.

“Snow and L/N, are we even surprised?” Livia let out a huff of irritation.

When Casca Highbottom announced that you all will be meeting in the largest room of the Academy, you thought it was to finally announce the winner of the Plinth prize. The only rightful ones were you and Coriolanus, anyway. And maybe Sejanus, the boy whom you’ve gotten soft for these past few days.

You and Coriolanus entered arm in arm, avoxes had wove through the crowd of students with trays of posca, a concoction of watery wine laced with herbs and honey.

Coriolanus quickly grabbed two goblets, handing one to you and then chugging it quickly down his throat. For a minute, it burned.

“Oh there you two are,” Arachne waves you over, her face gloomy. “Obviously, no amount of bribing would make Sejanus tell me who won the prize. Not like it matters, we all know I deserve it most.”

There was an eye roll from Felix Ravinstill. “Sure Arachne, and I’m the richest man on the planet.”

That earned him a scowl from the girl, who then turned her attention to Sejanus. “He can have as much money as he wants, but he’ll always be district, you know.”

A few of your classmates laugh, nodding in bitter agreement as they watched Sejanus conversing with one of the professors.

“Right.” Coriolanus mumbles, surprising you. He hadn’t ever agreed with Arachne before—calling her a psychopath even—so why was he now?

“Oh please,” the girl snaps back. “You and Y/N are friends with him.”

“We tolerate him,” Coriolanus says, his hand that was holding yours became tighter. “He’s district.”

When Sejanus comes, the murmur of your classmates grows silent, and from the looks of it, he could already tell they weren’t saying much good about him.

“It’s time to assign the tributes.” Is all he says, motioning to Dean Highbottom.

“As you all know, the Plinth prize and money would usually go to the student with the highest mark,” Highbottom begins, clearing his throat. “But this year, we’d like to do something different.”

You can tell Coriolanus has stiffened in his seat. Even though you want to hold his hand and caress it, you know you can’t, so you keep your desire inside.

“Whoever is the best mentor among all of you will be able to win the Plinth prize.”

“Oh that is not fair!” Livia complains. “What if I get some poor weak district girl and she dies 2 minutes in the games?”

“It’s not just about your tribute winning,” Highbottom says, “you will be assessed.”

You and Coriolanus sit through the announcement of which mentor gets which tribute. You had gotten Coral, a girl from District 4 while Coriolanus had gotten the girl from 12. Lucy Gray Baird, apparently.

“Hey, you okay?” You say as you two stepped out from the Academy. “Look at me Coryo.”

He looks up from the ground, his eyebrows furrowed and his face upset.

“He hates me.” He says, referring to Dean Highbottom. “Always has, always will. Gave me the worst district of them all.”

“Hey,” you say, cradling his face as your eyes quickly scanned his. “Don’t say that. We saw Lucy Gray on stage, she can sing and she sure as hell can put on a charismatic personality for the crowd. You’ll be okay, Coryo.”

“I don’t know,”

This was the first time you saw Coriolanus so upset, so lost in his thought. Without a second thought, you pulled his head towards you, giving him a long kiss on his jawline.

“Sleepover tonight?” You ask as you pull away.

“Sure, I just have to tell Tigris first.”

That night, you and Coriolanus talk about your futures under your warm white covers, limbs tangling one another.

“Do you ever want kids, Coryo?” You ask, saying anything that came to your mind.

“Maybe.” He replies. “Only if I find a girl as worthy as you.”

His words make you smile, pulling him closer to your body. “As worthy as me?”

“Mhm. Or else I’d marry out of convenience. For profit. To ensure no one takes advantage of me.”

You shake your head, placing a small kiss on his forehead. “I hope that never happens, Coryo.”

“I hope it never does either.”

You turn over to turn off your nightlight, snuggling yourself under the covers as Coriolanus throws an arm around your frame.

“Goodnight Coryo.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

- - -

After Coriolanus’ little involvement in the tribute cage, Highbottom, to say the least, was unimpressed. He claimed Coriolanus was breaking many of the Academy rules, including endangering an Academy student. However, he agreed to let the mentors visit their tributes and offer them water or food.

You were talking to Coral, handling her a glass bottle filled with water. If you couldn’t get her out of here, the least you could do is hydrate and feed her.

You turn to look at Arachne, who was busy swinging water in front of her tribute. Her tribute almost looked pitiful as the bottle always seemed to swing out of her reach.

Coriolanus was talking to Lucy Gray, a little too close for your liking, but you knew it was just to discuss strategies.

“You think you’re gonna make it in the arena?” You ask Coral, who only glared at you, taking small sips of water at a time.

“Hey.” Coriolanus suddenly comes up from behind you, once again wrapping his arms around your shoulders before bringing your face in for a long kiss on the cheek.

“Hi,” you giggle, continuing to hold on him as you turned your entire body to face him.

Coral let out a scowl of disgust, eyeing you and Coriolanus up and down.

“Coral, meet my friend, Coriolanus Snow. He’s Lucy Gray’s mentor.” You say, pointing at the girl who was currently talking to another tribute; Jessup, you think his name is.

Coral doesn’t respond, only continuing to snarl at the two of you.

“They’re like wild animals,” Coriolanus whispers in your ear.

“Hey pretty boy,” she finally speaks, smirking from ear to ear. “You were on the truck earlier.”

“I was,” he replied curtly.

“Maybe I can’t kill you—but I’ll definitely kill your tribute.”

Before you could hold Coriolanus back from jumping at Coral, you all hear a scream.

Arachne’s tribute had somehow managed to grab the bottle of water, smashing it against the metal cage and stabbing Arachne directly in the throat with it.

“Oh my god!” You scream, running over to the girl. Although you and Coriolanus disliked her, she was still your classmate, and someone who you spoke to on a regular basis.

“You two, off.” The peacekeepers say, grabbing ahold of you and Coriolanus; dragging you away from the scene.

- - -

The walk to Coriolanus’s home was quiet, aside from occasional twig snapping and leaves falling.

“I’m scared,” you finally say, staring up at Coriolanus. His icy blue eyes bore into yours before they softened.

“I know,” he says, cupping your head in his hands. “I know you’re scared, that should’ve never happened.”

“But it did,” you say, placing your hands into Coriolanus’s coat to keep them warm. “What if it happens to us next, Coryo?”

“Hey.” Coriolanus’s face is only a meter away from yours, lips almost touching. “I’ll never let that happen to you, do you understand? As long as I’m alive, no one will hurt you.”

You nod, a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Coriolanus wipes away your tears with his thumb, one of his fingers caressed your cheek lightly. “They’ll have to shoot me dead before anything can happen to you.”

And before you could let out another one of your worries, Coriolanus leans in, placing a much awaited kiss on your lips. He pulls away for air after a minute, forehead against yours.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, ever.”

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games x reader #the hunger games #hunger games

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youryanderedaddy · 2 months

Text

Dark Is The Night

Summary: A late night encounter with a patroling soldier changes the trajectory of his life - and, unfortunately, yours too.

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, threats, thoughts of non - con, mention of war, patronizing behavior, slight misogyny, hinted kidnapping

All he could think about was you.

It was a damp linden night, one of the very few old fashioned ones - as if time itself had stopped. The old colonel was laughing in short sharp breathes, skin spotting in red along with his sweaty neck, tearing into a letter he had received this very morning. The young soldiers were all over the tavern - some crying, some cheering over a beer and calling each glass their last, losing themselves in the rich foam that covered their fresh military mustaches. Christoph was alone, though.

He had no wife to write back to - no home to call his own, no friends or family to celebrate his final battle with. He also wasn't a rookie - so he couldn't drink himself blind in the pursuit of ideals, of empty promises of greatness to come. Truth was, his troops had won their fair share of battles, and today they had signed a treaty that would certainly benefit the district - the one he had lost his youth fighting for. He knew the capital would attempt at invasion, those greedy fucks wanted to bite more than they could chew - but that was no longer his problem. Today his contract ended. Today he was a free man.

And yet.

And yet all he could think about was you.

It was funny - he had spent more nights than he could remember wishing he could burn this half - dead village to the ground, all together with the maidens and the elderly still stick fending for themselves after the war. He presumed he'd be doing everyone a favor - he'd rid himself of the memories that haunted his dreams, and they wouldn't have to suffer any longer, not when all that winter would bring once again was even more hunger and decay.

After all, the victory changed nothing. The starving populace wouldn't starve anymore - it would simply die, having lost fathers, sons, daughters, farmers, merchants, healers. Nothing less than the very foundation of society. So maybe it would be far less cruel, far more humane, to burn everything and let them die with dignity.

But then you too would burn with the miserable souls of the damned. The man pictured it all - your beautiful skin still damp from the rain blistering in red and orange, and eventually black, those gems of yours trembling beneath your long eyelashes as the smoke swallowed your last breath.

The thought made Christoph irrationally angry - jealous even. Not only because he just imagined you dying, but because it was someone, something else stealing your final moment from him. Something else bruising your skin and forcing your lips to swell, something else causing you pain and suffering. No, he couldn't let you die. Not like this.

He couldn't help but recall your first meeting two years ago. Unbeknownst to you he had memorized it, citing each line by heart - envisioning it in his memory over and over each time he needed an escape, an outlet. The soldier wasn't one for softness, never one to dream and hope - but deep down he knew that this simple encounter had swayed the bullets. It had made him grip his rifle just a bit closer, made the biting wind just a bit warmer. He was a killing machine undeserving of humanity - yet you had saved him without even realizing it.

It was a cold winter night - quite opposite to this one, in the middle of Hell. The county your village was part of had been surrounded for a few weeks. Food was running low, and even clean water was scarce. All the men had been displaced a long time ago, sent off to fight in the eastern territories. Christoph was stuck at the Iron hills, a region so poor they didn't even bother to send additional armies to. If it lost, it lost. It held no special resources, no cultural or economic significance, no sea or forest roads to profit off of. All in all, no one wanted to serve here. No one but him.

Not that Christoph was too fond of the hills - it was more so that he didn't care where he was going to die. Whether it was on the eastern front, the western or even on the other side of the ocean, it didn't matter. And he had made peace with that fact - but before death took a toll on him, he was going to earn enough buck to buy good cigarettes for once in his miserable life. With real tobacco, none of that cheap imported trash they sold in his hometown.

And that's exactly how fate let him meet you. He was patrolling the border bridge late into the night - a thick cigar in hand (a parting gift from the general Murphy), humming to an old melody he couldn't quite remember the name of. He was alone that night - his friend had been injured so he needed to rest. The man was trying to stay alert, although the fatigue had long settled in between his tired bones and it refused to let go. The lack of sleep and the sheer paranoia was making him jumpy, ready to point his gun at the slightest of sound. He almost shot you that night.

"Colonel." You had whispered through gritted teeth, slowly raising your hands up as you approached him with a hesitant step. He blinked twice, unsure if he was still awake. Surely there was no way a young woman was out alone so late during wartime. "Colonel!" You repeated, putting a bit more force into your otherwise soft, calm voice. This seemed to snap him out of his trance and he finally raised his head to look at you, his sharp, intense gaze measuring you up from top to bottom. Just like a predator seizing his pray, like a soldier trained to keep his eyes on the target, he knew no other way to introduce himself other than with a silent, unspoken threat.

"A bit young to be calling me that, no?" The man snapped back, voice coming out more raspy than he intended - but it was hardly his fault. He rarely had visitors nowadays - no one wanted to expose themselves to the front lines, to risk becoming smoked meat, which meant he had little opportunity for chatter. So his voice had become rough - almost unnecessary cruel.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, blurry eyes focused on the weapon resting oh - so snuggly against the soldier's heart as if guarding it. "I'm not familiar with your many titles, sir." You explained with a certain bite. Christoph squinted, growing amused at your little jab, yet the black mask covering his mouth hid it from you. The man knew exactly what you meant. You were not used to so much surveillance on your step - on everyone's step, so many eyes set on you as if you had a massive red target on your back. You were not used to armed forces ghosting around your small homely village with a gun resting at an arm's length just waiting to be loaded.

He wondered if it was your first time running into a soldier since the beginning of the occupation. He wondered if you were scared - if your heart was beating against your chest like it was trying to break through the skin. After all he was indeed intimidating - with heavy combat boots and a black uniform that did little to hide his rough figure, the lineage of lean muscle and battered blistered skin that undoubtedly belonged to a man. A man whose hands were still covered in dirt and blood. He could kill you. He could push you around - get some entertainment out of you. He could shove you down and use you like a cheap village whore - and no one would care because that's just how war is. He was serving his country, he needed an outlet, and you just happened to be there. No one would blame him.

He couldn't bring himself to come closer to you. He didn't trust himself to hold back when faced with something so fragile after months of letting his fists and his teeth do the speaking.

"That's lieutenant to you, miss." He barked in a tone that felt familiar - a tone that used to wake him up every morning at 5 for weeks on end. A tone that he could still hear every time he loaded his rifle and let go of the trigger with shaking fingers.

He couldn't be nice to you. He couldn't be nice to anyone in this bloodshed. And yet he heard himself asking you for your name. It hadn't meant anything - it was a long night and he was bored. Lonely, maybe, he couldn't tell his feelings apart very well. You hesitated for a second too long before you finally gave him a clear answer. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard - not just now, but ever.

"Would you mind explaining why you're here so late, miss?" The man tilted his head, trying to understand your unreadable expression - somehow you looked lost in time, striken by fear and grievance. "I believe the general gave direct orders this morning. No one should be out after ten." He paused to take a long, dramatic puff off his cigar. "It's too dangerous. Especially for a pretty little thing like you to be roaming at night." He knew his boldness was making you uneasy, and that he shouldn't derive such obvious pleasure from your discomfort, but he just couldn't help it. He was lonely. He was sick. And most of all, he was a bastard who had already given up on life. He had nothing to lose.

"Truth be told, if you were mine I wouldn't let you out of sight, miss." He grinned, feeling just a bit disgusted with himself. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to scare you. To creep you out so bad you'd never go out alone again. Why he had got so invested so quickly, he also couldn't tell.

"I... I needed a breath of f-fresh air, l-leutenant." You responded quickly, eager to leave this conversation as soon as possible - completely ignoring anything he said. Your initial confidence had evaporated as the wet cold crept into your thin coat. It didn't fit your frame - it was too big on you and it reeked of a man's first proper cologne. The thought of it filled the soldier with unreasonable, hot -red fury, imagining you next to some nameless brat with his hands wrapped around you.

"That's all?" The corners of his lips stretched mockingly as he let his smoke blow into your face - and you had to fight the urge to immediately wave it off.

"Are you, are you implying something, sir?" You fiddled with your fingers nervously, looking anywhere but at Christoph. He found it pathetically adorable. "Just curious." He took another long puff - his breath coming out frozen - white as it hit the icy air. "You don't seem like the brave type to me." His eyes narrowed to two pitch black slits. He must have looked terrifying to you in that moment, and he loved it. "So just what-" He pulled you in by the collar. "Are you doing here, huh?"

You froze in place as if he had pointed his gun to you yet again. You swallowed loudly, trying to come up with an explanation - but nothing came to mind when you were so obviously scared. The soldier could feel your heartbeat - he could hear the blood pumping to your ears as you looked around hopelessly for help that wouldn't come. And just like that the wolf had the rabbit dancing in its own trap.

"Are you just looking for trouble, hmm?" The man reached in to curl his finger around one of your loose locks. He didn't want to make you feel so awfully small - but everything about this situation, from the tremble of your lips to the sheer panic in your eyes was going straight to his cock. "I'm sure that with a face like that you never lacked attention, no?" He tilted his head with predatory malice. "But now all the men bending over backwards for you are off somewhere, dying as we speak. Poor little you - I can imagine just how lonely you are." He pressed his body closer to yours. "The thing is, I am more than willing to play with you in their pl-"

"Please, lieutenant." You couldn't stand to listen to him any longer, a thousand warm pleas already falling off your desperate lips. "Please let me go." Your eyes softened, trying to hide the first sign of hot wet tears. "I need to go home to my siblings. I need to bring them fo-"

"Why should that matter to me, dollface?" It was his turn to interrupt you - voice full of childish glee as he kept up with his petty torment.

"Because - because," You started off, hands shaking into little fists that you knew, realistically, could do the soldiers no damage were you to push against his chest. "Because you're a good man." You mumbled after a while, looking for the right words to say. "And I know that deep down you're kind and brave. That's why you're here now, fighting for all our lives."

You were such a pretty liar, Christoph thought. He could listen to your sugary sweet fairytales all night long, silently praying that they'd become true if he was only able to capture his own little fairy - his own miracle.

"What if I am not the hero, doll?" The man whispered darkly in response, leaning against you until your back hit the tree behind you, trapping you between his stiff body and the pillar. "What if I am here for all the wrong reasons, huh? Just think about it." He lowered his head so it would match your eye level - you were so quiet he wondered if you had forgotten how to breath.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. I have a weapon and a direct permission to shoot at will. I can do whatever the fuck I want." He made sure you could hear every single word clearly. He wouldn't let you faint before he was through with you. "I can fuck you right here in the open - or I can drag you to the barracks and keep you there for as long as I need to. Do you really think anyone would care about some insignificant girl going missin-"

"Please." You repeated, suddenly getting stirn with your pleading, as if you too had nothing to lose. "Let me go - I'd do anything."

His eyes darkened - then lit up with sick, perverse desire. He wanted to echo your words back to you just like a classical villain would - to really drive the point across that he was out for blood. Anything, you say? Anything at all? But he couldn't contain his excitement enough to voice those sadistically banal thoughts. Besides, he could already feel the adrenaline running through his whole body. His heart was beating rhythmically, pumping and alive for the first time in days, weeks, months. He wanted you more than anything. It was that moment he knew he was going to live - he was going to fight and win, and then come back for you as a hero. As your hero, even if in your eyes he would be more of a villain.

A nightmare you'd try to forget - and just when you think you have erased his fingertips off your waist, your face, your neck, he'd come back to steal you away forever.

"Kiss me." Christoph all but snarled, some unfamiliar, needy - greedy ball of emotion settling into his loins as your delicate face twisted into a petrified grimace. You began trembling in his arms, looking around yet again. It was pitch black, no soul in sight. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your movement to no avail. "A-alright. I-I..." You whispered with difficulty as if simply saying the words was causing you a great deal of pain. And maybe it was, but the soldier could care less. He already knew you were made for him - made to serve him, made to make him happy. "I'll d-do it."

The man growled in satisfaction, taking a small step back. You looked at him, puzzled - your confused face was just as cute as your scared one. He couldn't wait to explore all your reactions - the way you'd squirm and writhe underneath him as he fucked into you restlessly, filling you up with his love over and over again until you were crying for mercy. But that had to wait, he had a war to fight. For now he could settle for a little taste of you to keep him warm during the cold nights. And just like that he tapped his lips, guiding you silently. You felt your cheeks heat up once you finally understood what he meant by that. He wasn't going to kiss you. He wanted you to put in the work.

Your eyes filled up with tears, and you felt silly for becoming so upset over a little kiss - but this was your first kiss, and you had to give it to a monster. It was certainly better than the alternative, with the alternative being rape in a filthy military cottage, but it still made you feel dirty all over. Yet, you had no choice. You took a step towards the man - you could feel the suffocating warmth radiating off his body towards yours, and if the situation wasn't so grim, you might have been grateful for another human's heat in the freezing cold. But now all you could feel was dread.

You stood on your tip toes, a shaky hand reaching out to cup the stranger's face. Cristoph smirked, complecent at your obedience. You licked your lips and slowly, hesitantly pressed them against his, just barely touching at all.

He groaned, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He grabbed you and pulled you in roughly, squeezing you like a plush toy. He deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth, finding heaven between your soft, sweet lips and broken whimpers. You were so innocent. So lost. He wanted to take you into his arms and never let go. He wanted to keep kissing you until your lips turned blue, until it hurt to speak.

And then you pushed him off just like that, using your own body as a distraction. He tripped backwards, too shocked and lost in sensation to stop you. He smiled at your final act of defiance. It was, of course, adorable and so painfully you, yet it didn't really matter - not in the long run. You had only suceeded in making him want you more.

But that was two years ago. Now the war was finally over. Now he had enough to start a new life. Now he was a free man.

And he was coming back for you.

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere soldier

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