Yo Wtf, Why Did Victoria Death Was So Anticlimactic, Wtf Butcher Got Tentacles, I Thought He Had Lasers

Please what is dis- 💀

Ah, yes. My favorite duo in scream

Heathers (1989)

“Only for you” - Jason Dean x Fem!reader

Jason Dean x Fem!reader

“Our dirty little secret” - Heather Duke x Fem!reader

if you’re taking requests, what characters from gen v do you write??

I am taking some requests, though it says on my bio request are close, but for Gen V, I'm open to writing about Luke, Jordan, Cate, Marie, Andre, and Sam.

Hunger | Coriolanus Snow

From the moment your husband introduces to President Snow, you're untethered, as if the very floor was ripped from underneath you.

Warnings: NON-CON, District 12! Reader, Covey! Reader, Housewife Kink, Manipulation, Somnophilia, Breeding Kink, Chasing

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Nervousness wrenches your insides as you peer at the proceedings from afar. Another gala to raise funds in order to quell a budding rebellion in the Districts. The second one this year. 

They always leave you feeling sour. It’s not like the Districts have no reason to start an uprising. The next reaping is fastly approaching and you’d rage too if your family was to go through that again.

You take a tiny sip from your glass of posca, mindful not to overindulge. The diluted, aromatic wine is far stronger than one would imagine. But a slight dash of intoxication is the only way you can see yourself getting through the night. Crowds always made you anxious, but a gathering of Capitol citizens stirs a particular discomfort in you. 

You’re not one of them and you often wonder if they can tell, sense a whiff of District 12 on you. The foul stench of unbelonging. Perhaps in the manner you speak or your stance. You’ve never managed to perfectly mimic the way Capitol ladies carry themselves, born from a lifetime of practicing poise and etiquette. After all, you are an outsider, and always will be.

Regardless of how many galas you attend, fashionable dresses you order to match the quickly changing trends of the Capitol, effort you exert to erase your thick Covey accent…it seems someone can always tell there’s more to you.

It’s in that mocking glint in their eyes, that sneering lilt in their voice.

To them, you’ll never be more than District rabble. 

Which is exactly why you despise these events. But your husband insisted. He’s working hard to impress his boss, the most important man in all of Panem, and you can’t let him down.

You must be the picture of charm. Laugh at every joke, nod your head when a serious topic is being broached, display interest when personal stories are being shared.

You place a hand on your roaring stomach, a frown creasing your brow. You haven’t swallowed a bite the entire day, too anxious about how tonight would go.

Your gaze darts about the room. The tantalizing spread of appetizers in the middle of the room seems to be calling your name. Your mouth waters.

Without a thought, your feet glide across the marble tiles. A little self-conscious, hesitation tingles at your fingertips as they drum by one of the silver platters. Another pang of hunger pierces your insides at the sight of the food. You cave in, picking up a tiny sandwich from a plate. Your eyes close, angels singing in your mouth as delicious aromas trickle on your tongue. 

“Sweetie, there’s someone you must meet,” your husband chimes at your back.

Still chewing on a mouthful of meat and bread, you whirl. Your eyes bulge. Startled, you nearly suffocate on your food.

You quickly wipe your mouth as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You’ve seen his face before. The murky screens do not do justice to his dashing looks.

“President Snow. It’s a pleasure. Apologies, I was…”

A smile ghosts over his lips as he drinks you in, his cerulean gaze dragging over your frame. “No apologies,” he answers silkily. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the food. At least someone is.”

He picks up your hand and presses an ephemeral peck on the back of it. You turn to Henry. The shock adorning your husband’s face mirrors yours.

President Snow’s lips curl skywards.

He lets go of your hand and adds, “It’s nice putting a face to your name. Henry is always raving about you.”

You shake your head, eyes bashfully finding the floor. “Oh, I’m sure he isn’t,” you mumble.

The blonde hums as if to disagree. He bends close to your ear.

“He’s always lauding what a wonderful wife you are, dutiful, sweet…”

…Makes me almost jealous.

Your head whips up.

You blink at the whispered words, barely above a breath. Maybe you heard wrong. It’s hard to tell, the way Snow gauges you, that subtle smile still decorating his handsome face.

He asks you trivial questions about how you’re settling in and how you’re enjoying your life in the Capitol. You answer every time, ignoring the chill dancing at the base of your spine.

His scrutiny swells your unease.

So as soon as the conversation veers away from you and towards the topics of lawmaking and taxes, you snatch the opportunity to excuse yourself.

You give an apologetic smile to your husband.

“Henry, maybe I should go. I’m not feeling too hot.”

He scowls at you. “You want us to leave already?” Disappointment bleeds in his tone. A thick layer of shame settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re being a bad wife.

“You can stay, even if I go,” you try to offer.

“There’s still so many people we haven’t talked to…” Henry argues.

You deflate. You suppose it would be uncouth to leave too early.

To your surprise, President Snow’s smooth lilt interjects, “If your wife is unwell, you both should go.”

You gape at him. A strange glint bounces in his cerulean orbs and unease flutters through you once more. 

Henry sighs, grabbing your hand.

“Alright. I’ll go fetch the car.” 

He gives the blond a formal salute before dragging you away.

As the two of you leave, the heat of Snow’s attention prickles along your spine.

“Did he say something to you?”

Gasping, you turn to your husband. He pointedly looks at you and you shift awkwardly in the passenger seat. 

“What?” you say, taken aback by his sudden question. 

He studies you for a while before his gaze drifts back to the road.

“Snow. He said something to you, didn’t he?”

Your chest clenches. Faking nonchalance, you shrug and reply lightly, “Just a joke but I didn’t understand it.”

The days soar by, humdrum and uneventful. You file away the strange moment at the gala and return to your everyday life. Henry occupies most of your time but when you’re not catering to him, you tend to the house and read. And during stolen moments…you play and sing. Henry doesn’t know, of course. It’s a life you left behind, or are supposed to at least. 

You’re the wife of a Capitol official, not some District balladeer peddling song for coin.

But you can’t help it. 

Singing reminds you of home. Of endless green meadows and lazy afternoons by the river. Your life from before may have been uncertain but you find yourself missing it at times. Missing the freedom to do and act as you pleased.

An orphan like so many others, the Covey were the only family you ever knew. Then you met Henry. Henry who spoke so sweetly to you and gazed at you with warm brown eyes. And he became your family. He didn’t care that you were from a District or that your manners were lacking. He embraced you.

And now you wish to support him in all that he does. Even if it means tossing away parts of yourself.

The front door cracks open, halting the path of the needle between your fingers. A smile blooms on your lips as you place Henry’s shirt on a nearby table. You can resume fixing the buttons on it later. You rise from the armchair and make your way to him. You help him out of his coat, noting the excitement radiating off his frame.

He’s not usually this ecstatic after a day of work. You tilt your head in puzzlement.

He hugs you before announcing, “We have a guest tomorrow, a very important guest.”

“Oh,” you reply, tamping down your concern. The apartment isn’t exactly ready for guests, much less important ones. The fridge needs to be stocked and the furniture requires thorough dusting.

“Yes, I was mentioning what a wonderful cook you are and he said he hasn’t had a home cooked meal in a while.”

“Who?” you ask, your curiosity peaking.

“President Snow,” Henry replies with a victorious grin.

Dread and confusion collide inside you. Why would President Snow visit you and your husband of all people? While Henry’s been rising in ranks quite fast, you can’t picture the leader of the country making time for people like you.

But you don’t voice these thoughts, instead you inquire, “Are you sure my cooking will be enough for him? His palate is used to those fancy meals at the Capitol.”

He cradles your face and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t doubt yourself, honey. You’re an amazing cook.”

“I just don’t want to let you down,” you confess, anxiously chewing on your lip.

“You won’t,” he assures. His chestnut gaze dives into yours. “This could be a great opportunity for us. Imagine what being close to Snow could do for our lives. He could promote me. We could even move to a bigger place.”

Your brows knit. “I love our place.”

Henry laughs. “Yes but the day we expand our family, you have to admit it’ll be a little small.”

You peer at your surroundings. Every corner of the little house harbors a beloved memory. You’d hate leaving it behind, but you suppose he’s right. You might outgrow it one day.

Henry frames your chin to draw your focus back to him.

“Just be yourself,” he says. “Your kind, sweet, wonderful self and all will be well.”

Nodding, you give a feeble smile.

“Understood.”

The next day is spent meticulously cleaning every inch of the house. For hours you’re anxious, wondering what to say or do, how to behave. You don’t have the natural wit and charm to impress someone like Coriolanus Snow. You keep worrying you’ll speak out of turn and embarrass Henry. Preparing dinner is the only time your mind is at rest. You stir the vegetables in the stew, smiling as the delectable scent fills your nostrils. It’s simmered for hours to create a rich flavor. It’s only your second time trying this recipe so you’re a bit nervous. Henry adored it but he’s your husband. You don’t know if President Snow’s delicate taste buds will find your meals to his liking.

You’re slightly more confident about your strawberry cake. While you struggled with it at first, the frosting never quite coming out the way you wanted, it’s now turned into one of your specialties.

The doorbell rings and you freeze. You glance up at the clock hanging near the stove. Already? Time has flown and you didn’t notice.

As you approach the door, you smooth out the wrinkles in your apron and straighten your spine. You take a deep breath before opening the door. 

A wobbly smile cants your lips upwards. 

“President Snow, it’s an honor,” you greet cheerfully.

The tall blond crosses the threshold after your husband. You take him in, trying to girdle your apprehension. He casts an imposing figure with his slicked back silver locks and tailored purple suit, the signature white rose pinned to his left breast pocket as always.

An aura of authority seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“Please, the honor is mine,” Snow says. His sky gaze roams across the living room. His expression is unreadable and you feel a bit self-conscious. It’s likely not as luxurious as what he’s used to. But to your surprise, he looks right at you and says, “What a lovely abode.”

His nose twitches as he hums, “I smell something heavenly, for me perhaps?”

You nod.

“I made beef stew.”

“Wonderful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. 

“Shall we sit?” Henry says, escorting him to the dining room.

You rush to the kitchen and throw your apron on a chair. Inhaling a lungful of nerve, you slip on gloves and grab the pot from the stove. Slowly, you bring out the food. Your skin tingles with the weight of Snow’s eyes on you. 

You ladle out the stew on each plate. When you circle the table to serve Snow, you feel the faintest brush of fingertips over your hip. You flinch.

When you look at him, an almost imperceptible smile hovers on his lips. You blink and it almost seems like it’s gone, as if you dreamt the entire instant. The ladle wavers in your hand.

Did he mean to do that? Once again, you question your own senses, your sanity. It was a fleeting touch, the accidental kind that occurs everyday. But somehow your nerves are agitated with this mere, insignificant second.

Quickly, you round the table and plop down in the chair next to your husband. He squeezes your hand beneath the table, his brown gaze spelling “good job”. Relief sits inside you. You spent all day agonizing over every aspect of tonight so it’s nice to know Henry appreciates your efforts at least.

Everyone starts eating, your husband and Snow engaging in topics you only listen to with half an ear. Instead you focus on your plate, swallowing tiny bites of the stew. 

The flavor is nice and rich, just like you hoped, and pride trickles inside you.

“You’re so silent. Are we boring you?”

Snow’s abrupt statement yanks a sharp gasp from you. Your head snaps up. You realize both he and Henry are staring at you. Your face warms.

“N-No, I just don’t have anything interesting to contribute,” you stammer, your head dipping. 

“My wife has no mind for politics, I’m afraid,” Henry chuckles. 

Your mouth screws shut, your fingers tightening around your spoon. It’s more that your opinions differ vastly and there are things Henry prefers you don’t say aloud.

A crooked smirk blooms on Snow’s lips.

“Ah, a pretty, silent one. I believe you lucked out with this one, Henry.”

Your teeth grind as your brows twitch. Pretty and silent. You don’t know why the words chafe you, cutting into you as deep as a knife. 

You rise from your chair and grab your near empty plate. 

“I should go clean the kitchen,” you announce with a terse smile.

You don’t look back as you walk away, berating yourself with every step.

This isn’t how one should behave in front of him. But you also don’t think you can spend another second in his presence.

You rub the sponge over the top of the stove, satisfaction trickling inside you as the grease and sauce stains are wiped away. You bask in the calm, concentrated on your task. 

A warm breath tickles the shell of your ear.

“You seemed peeved before.”

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl on your heels. Your hand spreads over your chest as your vision is filled with the towering frame of President Snow. His stance is relaxed as he peers at you curiously.

“You scared me…President.”

He ignores your reaction, continuing his statement from before, “When we were discussing the next reaping.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t peeved.”

“Your face, it did that thing.” Your forehead creases. He inches closer. The scent of roses, thick and heady, coats your senses. Your head starts spinning. “Like now. It bothered you.”

Panic flutters through you. This is a man who could have you hanged or jailed for saying the wrong thing. But something about his expression tells you he won’t relent, that he'll only take the truth and nothing else.

So your heart spills out of you.

“In an ideal world, we wouldn’t need the Hunger Games. They are…” You trail off, remembering yourself, who you’re speaking to. You bite down your feelings and go quiet.

But Snow bends over you, crowding your space as your back hits the edge of the stove.

“What? Barbaric? Cruel?” He chuckles and goosebumps rise on your flesh. “But we do need them, dove. Every single year. So the districts never forget their place, and most importantly ours.”

Your lip quakes. Snow’s gaze follows the motion, his lips slanting lopsidedly.

“Such a sweet soul,” he whispers.

He suddenly backs away from you. Air rushes back to your lungs.

“It’s late. I should take my leave. Thank you for a most…enlightening dinner.”

You resume your life and, for a while, everything is normal. Henry doesn’t talk about that night again and neither do you, the both of you bonded by that silent agreement. Maybe he saw Snow talking to you in the kitchen, maybe he didn’t. You’ll never know as he keeps his thoughts to himself, throwing himself into his work and acting like his usual self. 

And if there’s a bit more distance between the two of you in the marital bed, you try not to let it bother you. With time, the strangeness will fade and you and Henry will be back on track, trying for a child and enjoying marital bliss.

Though one evening, things are anything but normal. In fact, the world all but ends.

Your husband peruses the notice letter for rent once more. The blood seems to leave his face.

He runs his fingers through his dark curls.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands resting on his shoulders, your heart skips a beat as you read the neat printed letters.

Rent in your building has doubled overnight. If you and your husband do not pay up by next week, you will be evicted. Houseless.

Hell, you might even be sent back to your district. Your heart plummets to your feet. Your knees buckle underneath you. Henry catches you before you fall, leading you to the sofa as panicked breaths rush through your lungs.

He hunkers in front of you and holds your hands.

“I promise you I’ll find a way. Take out a loan or-”

“A loan we won’t be able to pay back?”

His jaw clenches. “Just let me handle it, okay?”

Though doubts creep inside you, you nod.

The days race along, tension growing each day as the deadline is approaching. Only three days. In just three days, you and your husband will be evicted unless a miracle happens.

And you conclude from the dark circles under Henry’s eyes and the way he barely answers when you speak to him, that he’s as clueless as you are.

There is no solution. Once again, the Capitol and its arbitrary rules strike.

So you come to a decision.

A decision that leads you in front of the biggest mansion in the entire Capitol. President Coriolanus Snow’s house. You suck in a wide lungful, quelling a shudder at the sight of the blue-clad peacekeepers lining the walls.

You stride towards the massive entrance gates. White roses twine around the wrought iron, their thorns seeming as sharp as knives. 

You gather your nerves and lift a tremulous hand towards the intercom.

Before you can even state your matter, a disembodied, feminine voice rises from the device.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks stiffly.

Hasty words pour out of you. “No, but I just need a minute-”

“President Snow doesn’t accept any visitors,” she responds harshly.

Your heart sinks. Of course he doesn’t. It was naive of you to cling to the illusory hope he’d see you anyway. Just for one dinner he likely forgot about. He’s the president. There are crucial matters that perpetually call for his attention. A myriad of things bigger and more important than a single Capitol citizen’s rent issues.

Still, you elect to try again, remembering the imminent deadline.

“Please,” you beg. “It’s very important.”

A distorted sigh ripples from the intercom.

“If you do not leave the premises, we will be compelled to remove you from the property, miss.”

One of the peacekeepers posted at the gates looks straight at you, his hand tightening over the rear of his machine gun. A wave of ice spreads through your veins.

You swallow and step back, accepting your defeat. Burning with shame, you start walking away from the mansion.

But you’re hardly a feet away, as the same voice from before erupts again, much softer this time. 

“My apologies, miss. I didn’t realize you were a close friend of President Snow.”

Your jaw hangs slack as you turn.

A woman with long dark hair appears through the open gates.

“Please, follow me,” she says as she approaches you. “The president will see you right away.”

Still steeped in utter shock, you acquiesce. You trail behind her. You can’t help but allow your eyes to wander as the woman escorts you through a dizzying series of hallways. While the front of the mansion is impressive with its lavish gardens and striking architecture, the inside is just as grandiose. You feel small as your gaze rests on all the sculptures and paintings decorating every corner of the house. Everywhere you look, there is something beautiful and eye-catching. The entire house is like a museum, meant to be admired rather than lived in.

Eventually the woman halts in front of a mahogany door. She tugs on the brass handles and stands to the side, making room for you to walk in. You mumble ‘thank you’ under your breath as you stumble inside the office.

President Snow’s blue eyes crinkle when they rest on you.

“Hello, dove. Why don’t you have a seat?” he offers, pointing at the chair before his desk. 

Licking your lips, you do as he says. Despite the softness of the plush upholstery you sit on, your nerves flare up. You had an entire speech ready, one you practiced on the way here. 

But now that you’re here, his intense focus pinned on you, you’re at a loss. 

Shaky words trickle out of your mouth.

“President Snow. I know you must be so busy…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupts, leaning back in his leather chair. “I always find time for my friends.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“T-That’s a relief to hear,” you stammer.

A maid brings a kettle and biscuits on a silver platter. 

“Tea?” Snow asks as he picks up the kettle.

“No, thank you.”

As Snow pours himself a cup, you ponder your next words. You don’t want to seem greedy but you can’t think of an elegant way to state your purpose.

So you settle for the truth.

“I came because…my husband and I are in a bit of trouble.”

Snow scrutinizes you for a while. Your stomach tightens. 

He then gives a sluggish nod, bending forwards as his fingers lace together.

“Do tell me everything, dove.”

You do exactly that. Snow is silent as your trembling voice fills his office. No word leaves his mouth while he listens. You don’t skip out a single detail, making a point to emphasize what consequences could befall upon you and your husband should you fail to meet the deadline. 

When you’re done, he sips from his tea cup and hums, “How unfortunate.”

“Can’t it be undone? I mean, couldn’t you…”

He chuckles along the porcelain rim of his cup. “I’m not responsible for every law and charter. I approve them, of course, but there are committees, councils. Each law serves the betterment of Panem as a whole. I can’t undo what has been done. I mean, how would this look to the rest of the Capitol? Like I have a different set of rules for my friends? I have to look impartial.” Heaving out a deep sigh, he sets his cup down.  “Apologies, dove, my hands are tied.”

The world seems to collapse around you. Your stomach sinks.

You surmise it was too big an ask, even for the President of Panem. You can’t expect special treatment. It was silly of you to even come hoping for anything resembling that.

You were foolish. Now you must collect the pathetic remnants of your dignity and take your leave.

Gulping down the tears pressing at the back of your eyes, you nod. 

“I’m sorry I asked,” you croak, already beginning to rise from your chair.

His deep lilt pauses your motion.

“But I suppose…there could be a solution. An alternative.”

Your brow furrows as you drop back on the chair.

“An alternative?”

“I could cover the difference.”

Your mouth nearly hits the floor. Snow using his own funds to help? It could be the very miracle you and your husband waited for. You would have to pay him back over time, of course. But for now, it would allow you and Henry to keep the apartment.

It’s a godsend.

“You would do that for us?” you mutter, shock stealing your air.

His reply is nonchalant. “Yes. I’d simply file it under my own personal investments.” Slanting his head sideways, he studies you. “I’d just ask for a small favor in exchange.”

“A favor?”

You wonder what kind of favor you could do for someone like Coriolanus Snow, the man who has everything and more. Gaping at him, you wait for him to elaborate.

He leans forward, crossing his arms over his desk.

“It’s not much but it would mean the world to me. The house needs some upkeep. Just a few light chores here and there. No cleaning, of course; I have an entire staff in charge of that. But the garden needs tending.” His inflection softens as he takes you in. “A home cooked meal every now and then would be nice, and I might sometimes ask you to join me for tea and conversation…” Mirth sways in his cerulean orbs. “As dreadful as that may sound.”

You move your head in assent.

“I think I can do that. But w-why me?”

He gives a long exhale, resting his jaw in his hand.

“Honestly dove? You’d be the one doing me a favor. All day, I’m surrounded by vultures.” Snow rolls his eyes skyward. “Sycophants who placate me with false smiles and honeyed lies.” His tone warms when his gaze falls back on you. “I simply wish to return home to someone genuine, someone who would never lie to me. And you wouldn’t, would you?”

“W-What?”

“Lie to me.”

Your skin heats under his scrutiny. 

Trying not to squirm, you sputter, “Never, sir.”

“Music to my ears,” the young president croons.

It’s not sounding like more work than what you do at home. You can already hear Henry’s discontent echoing in your head. You won’t have as much time for him. That too will be yet another adjustment.

But what other option is there? Even the family of four above yours had to move, unable to keep up with the sudden rent increase. You and Henry could be next.

“I…W-When do I start?”

The corners of Snow’s lips tug upwards.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“You’re going to work for him?”

Henry’s displeasure ripples through you. You twine your hands and cast him an apologetic look. He despises that you went behind his back; you know that. But Henry ran himself ragged trying to come up with a solution. You didn’t want him to carry the burden on his own. That is not what a marriage is.

“He needs a housekeeper, of sorts. And he paid this month’s rent and the next upfront.”

Henry’s brows crumple. “Still, that’s…” Shoulders sagging, he crashes onto the sofa. The built-up exhaustion of the last few days seems to return all at once. You know he hasn’t slept a wink this whole week. Heart squeezing, you join his side and cradle his hand in your lap. Henry’s voice is dripping with shame and regret. “The entire reason I moved us here is so you never have to want for anything, so you wouldn’t have to work or suffer another day in this life.” His head dips. “I failed you.”

You cup his face, plunging your eyes into his.

“You didn’t fail me. And I won’t suffer. Sometimes life throws you lemons and you just have to squeeze those suckers dry.”

A hollow chuckle slips through his lips.

You run your thumbs over his growing beard.

"Listen, I know this wasn’t in our plans, but it’s just for now. In time, we’ll figure something out but I have to do this.” You lean your forehead against his. “For us.”

“Okay,” he belatedly concedes. He pulls your hands to his chest, kissing your knuckles.

“Just come home when you’re done.”

“I will,” you promise. 

The first day slogs forth without a hitch. A car picks you up in the morning and drops you off at President Snow’s estate. The dark-haired woman from before welcomes you, introduces you to the staff and walks you through your duties. You learn her name is Ariadne. 

You spend most of the day busy in the garden and library. Snow’s garden of roses might be one of the hidden treasures of Panem. Taking care of it is a pleasure and you even give yourself some minutes to bask in the sun’s warmth. 

The library shelves need dusting and you tend to this task as well, humming familiar tunes to yourself while working. It is no harm if no one is around to hear you sing. 

You don’t get bored as there’s always a task requiring your attention in the massive house. 

When stars begin to dust the darkening sky, you rush to the kitchen. You get started on dinner. Staff members give you space to work and you’re grateful. You don’t like being ogled while you cook. You marvel at the gold, high-end appliances as you knead your dough. The kitchen is pristine, like everything else in the house. You settle for something simple, hearty and warm. There is no point in pretending you’re some fancy chef when you’re not. If it’s what Snow desired, he’d have hired one. There’s a plethora of them in the Capitol for him to choose from after all. And they’d all line up outside his house in a heartbeat if he requested it.

You stand nervous, hands folded in your lap as the meal you prepared is brought out onto silver plates. You spent hours on it. Hopefully he likes it.

“This smells like heaven,” Snow purrs.

He then points at the chair next to his on the long table.

“Have a seat.”

Your eyes bulge. Not only are you stunned by his request, as there are so many other chairs on the gigantic dinner table, but you were hoping to return home to Henry once dinner was served.

 “Oh, I thought…”

He smiles at you. “I hate dining alone.”

You consider arguing. But as you remember all that you owe him, your mouth squeezes shut. You give a meek nod and drag your feet to the chair.

“Of course.”

You pick up your knife and fork…one of the knives and forks. You choose at random, unsure what purpose each of the cutlery items serves.

A smile waltzes upon Snow’s lips as he watches you. Shame pools in your gut. You feel like you’re making a fool of yourself.

He takes a bite of food and hums low in his throat, his eyes closing.

“Your cooking never fails to amaze, dove,” he lauds. Blue eyes search your face. “Are you hiding other talents from me?”

Your eyes lock onto your napkin, following the swirl of the flower patterns sewn in the corners. “I don’t think so,” you mumble.

Dinner continues in silence, only occasionally shattered by Snow’s sounds of delight and words of praise. Your own bites are small. While you’re glad it turned out the way you wanted, you’d rather save your appetite for home.

When a maid brings tea after the meal, Snow raises a dismissive hand.

“We’ll have tea and cakes in the study,” he announces.

Your face scrunches. “But it’s getting late. I should-”

“I must insist,” he interrupts. He rises from his seat and offers you his outstretched hand. 

His smile broadens.

“You would rob me of your company so swiftly, dove? How cruel of you.”

Reluctantly, you accept the hand he gives you. He helps you out of your chair and motions at you to follow him.

The both of you end up in his study, sitting by the fire. Tea is placed on the small table between you. Coriolanus takes a slow sip while you fiddle with your hands.

His cerulean gaze locks with yours.

“That song you were humming earlier.”

Your chest seizes.

The loud thudding of your heart fills your ears. You swallow thickly. 

“A song?”

“Yes,” he says absently, adding another spoonful of sugar to his cup. He gives a small stir before bringing it to his lips again. “I heard it as I walked by the library.”

You try not to let your panic show, cloaking yourself in false nonchalance. You thought you were discreet, quiet almost.

“Ah, that. It’s nothing,” you elude.

“No, it was lovely. You have the voice of an angel.” 

The compliment leaves you speechless.

But his next words tie your stomach in knots.

“I want to hear it again.”

“I don’t really…perform for audiences.”

“You mean since you left the Covey?”

Mouth agape, you stare at him. How did he find out? You don’t remember ever bringing it up. In fact, you wouldn’t. You expend great effort to hide your past on a daily basis.

Your reaction draws a snort from him. Amusement bounces in his orbs.

“Come on, dove, that accent…It might fool others but not me.”

“I don’t sing anymore,” you state firmly. 

Even if you did, you wouldn’t do it for Coriolanus Snow. Not of your own free will.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His inflection becomes sharp, all softness evanescing. “Remember when I told you that I hated lies?” His pointed gaze sends chills through your body. “Sing for me, dove.”

Your mouth goes dry as sand. 

You understand his words for what they are. An order from your president. A strange order…but an order nonetheless.

You don’t get to refuse. You’re to sing for him, whether it pleases you or not.

Like a bird in a cage.

So you do it. Your lips fall open and clear, soft notes rise out of you. A traditional song your mother taught you. It tells the story of a girl who meets a boy with ocean eyes, how she drowns in them but the fall is like rising to heaven. 

As your voice fills his office, Snow’s scorching gaze doesn’t leave you.

When the song is done, he doesn’t applaud or praise you.

Instead, his eyes bear into you for what feels like an eternity. You try not to move, though your heart thunders in your chest. 

“See, was that so hard?” he asks, that cocky smile still adorning his lips. You don’t reply, your throat ablaze. It felt as if you didn’t belong to yourself just then. And it terrifies you. He slides your untouched cup towards you. “Drink your tea before it gets cold. Then, you can go home.”

Without a protest, you lift the cup to your mouth. One measly cup of tea and you’ll get to go home. Then this uncomfortable evening can end. Finally.

But as the liquid trickles inside your mouth, tendrils of darkness lurk in your vision. Your body gets heavier. So heavy you can’t hold the cup anymore, or even yourself. The porcelain dish vanishes from your hands. You sag into your chair.

Progressively, colors dim around you. 

Then sleep drags you down into a rabbit hole of utter oblivion. And all is blackness.

Softness like you’ve never felt before greets you when you awake. Like being embraced by fluffy clouds. For a while, you linger in the comfortable sensation, humming against the plush blankets. But as your eyes land on the thin slice of sunlight spilling from the window, you unleash an audible gasp. 

You bolt in a sitting position. 

Your eyes widen as you find Ariadne observing you between the velvet curtains at the end of the bed.

Gripping the side of your head, you glance at your surroundings. Clearly, you’re in a room. But how did you wind up here? No matter how hard you try, you can’t summon a single memory from last night.

“Ariadne? What happened?” 

She circles the bed to take a seat next to you. Her gentle tone alleviates your rising panic.

“You fell asleep,” she explains. “Master Snow brought you here so you can get some proper rest.” 

You sigh. It does make sense. Though you can’t stamp out the trickle of embarrassment sitting inside you with that knowledge. You dozed off on the job, on your first day. Hopefully, Snow isn’t too offended. 

“I must have been more tired than I thought,” you mutter, looking down.

“He’s gone now; he had urgent business at the Justice Building. But he insisted you eat a proper meal before you go.” She points at the golden food cart near the bed, every tray brimming with pastries, fruits, meats and cheeses. Way more than you could eat in a single meal.

The kind of decadent abundance the Capitol likes to indulge in. 

You politely decline. 

“I can’t…I have to return to my husband. He must be worried sick.”

Ariadne puts a hand on your arm.

“Word has been sent to him that you were simply tending to Master Snow’s needs last night.”

You purse your lips. It’s not ideal but at least he knows you were working. 

“Good,” you reply, nodding.

You yank the blanket off your body, determined to stand up and leave. But as soon as you’re on your feet, you crash back down on the bed, a strange ache awakening in your limbs.

Your forehead creases. You hug your stomach, a vicious cramp creeping there too.

Ariadne’s immediately at your side, placing her hands over your arms.

“Take it easy, miss,” she warns. “You exerted yourself a great deal yesterday.” She beams brightly. “In fact, Master Snow has given you a few days off. He was very satisfied with your work and expects you in three days’ time.”

Your brows rise. “Oh, that’s very generous.”

Her grin expands.

“He is exceedingly pleased with your performance.”

Over the next few weeks, Snow keeps summoning you sporadically. The days you work for him are pretty much the same. You attend to your daily tasks, you cook for him and then the two of you have tea in his study. He has you sing for him sometimes. You’ve learnt to swallow your feelings and perform according to his whim. You don’t even sing to yourself anymore, the exultation you drew from it all but gone. It was a way to stay connected to your Covey roots, to keep your family close to your heart. Now you can’t do it without his icy gaze invading your thoughts.

You often end up incredibly tired on those days, your body aching and sore for hours afterwards. You never imagined working for Coriolanus Snow would drain you so much. Falling asleep in his house even turns into a regular occurrence, happening almost every time you show up for work.

Naturally, Henry isn’t thrilled with that. Every time you come back home, too tired to wait on him hand and foot like you used to, his displeasure grows.

But he’s also yet to find a way to fix the issue, so the two of you must keep working. You’ve already sold everything that you could, clothes, any belonging of slight value. 

The gap is still too vast. 

And the city won’t allow you to apply for another place to live, claiming the waitlist is already sky-high.

Though you resent it, Coriolanus Snow is your only hope.

“You’re not in charge of dinner tonight,” Ariadne announces one night as you fire the stove.

You turn the burners off, your eyes rounding.

“I’m not?” 

A bright smile blooms on the brunette’s face.

“Master Snow is inviting you to dine with him as his guest, to express gratitude for your outstanding work.”

Your lips part in surprise. In the many weeks you’ve worked for President Snow, this has never happened. You have shared meals, of course, but you’ve never received such a formal invitation.

You suppose it’s all a game to Snow, and he simply changes the rules whenever he feels it.

She astonishes you further when she urges you to follow her to one of the guest bedrooms.

Utter dismay fills you.

A white dress lies atop the bed. The sleeveless evening gown looks more expensive than any dress you’ve ever laid eyes on. The delicate white silk flares at the waist, the gigantic, fluffy layered skirt making your head spin already. You imagine how hard it'd be to move in such a dress. Though you surmise it won’t be too much of a concern as you only need to sit through dinner with it.

“Master Snow expects you to wear this tonight,” Ariadne chimes.

She helps you slip on the dress, a task you undoubtedly would have struggled to complete on your own, the many layers of tulle, silk and lace of the huge skirt alone their own challenge.

Eventually, you’re dressed. 

She escorts you to the dinner room. Curious eyes dart about the halls, noting their unusual emptiness. Not a single footman, maid or Avox in sight. 

You’re alone.

“The house is very quiet,” you point out.

Ariadne beams at you from above her shoulder.

“The entire staff’s been sent home. Master Snow wants to wait on you himself tonight.”

Your stomach knots, a foreboding feeling swelling within you.

Still, you glide forward. It’s a little late to turn back.

When you enter the diner room, Snow’s face lights up. He makes his way to you. As usual, he’s dashing, his platinum blonde locks neatly combed back and his crimson suit highlighting his tall frame.

His gaze twinkles as he drinks you in. 

“You’re a vision, dove.” He lifts your hand and brushes his lips over your knuckles. His eyes slam into yours. Time seems to hang still for a few seconds. “As I know you would be.”

Keeping your hand in his, he escorts you to your seat. He pulls your chair for you and you fumble with your skirt a little before finding a comfortable way to sit. 

“So…no maids today?” you say lightly. 

His lips slant. He removes the lid off one of the pots. The mouthwatering smell instantly reaches you. 

“I thought it’d be nicer to enjoy a quiet, private dinner together, as a way to celebrate.”

Your face contorts into a puzzled expression. 

“Celebrate?”

“Your last day as my housekeeper,” he replies cheerfully.

Your heart misses a beat. Is he firing you?

You attempt to tamp down the quake in your voice. You fail miserably.

“Really?”

He gauges you and his smile grows.

“Yes. In fact, you and your husband will never have to worry about rent anymore. Him  especially. Everything’s settled.”

An audible exhale slips through your mouth. 

“This is…I don’t know what to say.”

“You can say thank you.”

“Thank you, President Snow.”

His laugh resonates in the near empty dining room.

“Please, call me Coriolanus.” He ladles soup onto your plate before bending close. You tense as his warm breath ghosts over your temple. “We’re quite…close now, aren’t we, dove?”

You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“I suppose we are…Coriolanus.”

You wince. Uttering his name feels wrong, forbidden almost.

Satisfaction doesn’t part from his handsome features as he regains his seat. He gestures for you to start eating. You feel a bit self-conscious as he observes you intently. 

Still, you do as he heeds, not needing to be told twice. 

The quicker you eat, the quicker you’ll get to be home and out of the uncomfortable dress. 

You groan as your lids flutter, a blurry shape rocking back and forth in your vision. Fatigue tugs at your heavy limbs as you stir. Your forehead scrunches. Your body’s hot, like a furnace, like you’re burning from the inside out. Tingles spark somewhere in you and you keen sharply, leaning into the sensation. Feverish whispers surround you, words you don’t comprehend in your daze.

The pull and tear. The pleasure mingling with the pain. You’re in a strange dream, maybe a nightmare.

Deep-chested grunts land in your ears. You awake further. It’s a voice you recognize, from somewhere…but not like this. Never like this. Something’s wong. Your forehead wrinkles. Something’s wrong but you’re so tired. So so tired. Your mind’s like cotton. Your limbs are as rocks.

As your lids sag, something slams into you. Fast, hard and vicious.

Your heart bounces. Your eyes snap open.

Your stomach drops.

A sinister smile you know too well by now welcomes you.

“Hello, dove. Awake, finally,” Snow whispers, his hips snapping into yours. Your breath catches as his cock grazes against your sweet spots. You clench around him and he chuckles darkly. “That angle always does it for you.” Smugness oozes off his hoarse timbre.

You look up at him. Sweat dots his brow, his tousled blonde locks clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes are cloudy with lust. His white shirt is half open, revealing a glimpse of the bare, glistening muscles underneath.

And as your gaze travels lower, horror flares inside you.

You gape with wide eyes as his veiny length disappears inside you. Again and again. The fluffy white shirt is bunched around your waist, your panties torn, exposing your lower body to President Snow’s lewd scrutiny entirely. His large hands dig into your hips, trailing crescent bruises in the shape of his fingernails.

Your shocked gaze finds his.

His smile expands.

“P-President Snow, what are you doing?” 

You know it’s a stupid question…but you have to make sense of this. Because none of this can be real. Maybe it’s a nightmare and you’re still sleeping.

You gasp as he pushes you into the mattress, piledriving into you at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“Taking what’s mine, of course,” he says matter-of-factly, hooking his arm under your thigh.

He lifts you and spreads you even more. His darkened gaze follows the motion of his cock as he pounds into you, an insatiable look twisting his handsome features. 

Reaching between your tangled bodies, he pinches your tender heap of nerves. He rubs against it, teasing it with maddening circles until your legs quake. You come apart beneath him, crying out as your back arches against the soft sheets.

“Please, stop,” you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes.

Snow’s pace quickens. Ragged moans tear from your throat. Your vision flickers.

He bends over you to lick one of your tears, humming in satisfaction at the taste. 

His lips drag against yours as he asks, “Is it truly what you want? Because it’s kind of hard to tell the way your pussy hugs my cock.” His mouth curves upward against your cheek. “Like it does every time.”

A wave of ice spreads through you. 

Every time? Realization hits you, knife-like as it pierces through the veil of denial. 

Every time…

The pieces fall into place as you remember all those times you fell asleep, unable to recall how you ended up in bed. Tired, confused…sore.

A shudder shoots through your frame.

You twist your body as panic seizes you.

Coriolanus growls when you clamber away from him, heading for the edge of the bed. You curse the pesky gown and the way it hinders your movements.

He yanks you back with ease, gripping the back of your head and shoving you down into the mattress.

Lips graze your earshell as he snarls, “Where are you going? We’re not done. We have to make sure you carry the next Snow heir.” In one stroke, he sinks into you from behind. You choke on your breath, the pain snatching your air. With one hand cinched around the back of your neck, he starts rutting into you. Your bruised folds ache at the blunt invasion. Still, your core clings to him in a way that stirs shame in your gut. “Although after all these times…” You hear the smile in his conceited inflection “It’s a given, isn’t it?”

Your eyes swell with tears. Your lips part in a silent scream. The sick song of flesh against flesh fills the room, mingling with his feral moans. 

Each time your walls tighten around him, bile rises up your throat. 

“What have you done to me?” you sob against the drenched silk sheets.

“Oh, I think you know,” he purrs. His warm breath fans over your scalp. “You can feel it, can’t you? How well your body knows me now, dove.”

His hips stutter, his thrusts getting sloppier. His cock twitches inside you. As warmth trickles alongside your walls, you feel sick again. He remains nestled inside you a while, panting above you and shoving the excess back in as you remain still.

As you feel his digits poke and prod, a chill runs through you. 

You can’t let him touch you again.

You keel over the edge of the bed, heading straight towards the floor. Pain ripples through your knees as they hit the carpet. You’re forced to ignore the crack resounding through your bones, awkwardly getting to your feet and dashing to the wooden swing doors.

Coriolanus’ wicked laugh echoes behind you. 

“Oh, dove, if you wanted to play hide and seek, all you needed to do was to ask,” he taunts.

Terror grips your throat. You ignore it alongside everything else. Alongside the pain, alongside the uncertainty, alongside the fact that you can still feel him inside you. Like you never left the bed. Like you’re still caged in his embrace.

Your legs carry you, barefoot and panicked, as you run through the palatial hallways as fast as the bothersome white dress will allow.

The president’s deep voice bounces against the ornate walls.

“Ready or not, here I come, my darling.”

The blood rushes to your feet. Your head spins and your feet tangle. You trip. Immediately, you gather yourself. You lift the skirt and dive hastily towards the living room. You duck behind a sofa. 

It’s a pathetic place to hide; you know it. But the lavish mansion is nothing but open spaces doused in sunlight. 

There is nowhere to hide.

The clamor of your heart is deafening in your ears as you hear objects crash to the floor a few feet away from you. Hand over your mouth to keep every sound in, you jerk every time the racket grows on the other side of the sofa. 

His frustration coats the air.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, dove,” he calls, his tone icier than before.

You freeze, holding your breath and wishing he doesn’t think to look where you are.

The minutes pass, agonizingly slow. The flimsy hope that he may have left even begins to bloom inside you.

Hot air suddenly breezes over your nape.

“Found you.” 

Your heart leaps to your throat. You go still. Coriolanus hauls you from the floor, half-carrying you and half-lugging you across the living room. You try to bite and claw any part of him you can reach but his hand locks around your throat.

He slams you harshly against a wall. Your head rings, the lines of his face momentarily doubling in your vision. You bite his hand. Cursing under his breath, he bangs your head against the wall again. You go limp.

Through your hazy sight, you note the scarlet trail streaking the back of his hand. You drew blood. Even if you’re lost, you bask in the ephemeral second of victory.

He carries your unmoving form the rest of the way back to his bedroom. You loathe yourself for your stillness. You want to put up a fight. You want to claw. You want to bite. You want to kill him with your bare hands. 

But all you can do is simmer in helplessness as he brings you right back to the very place you tried to escape.

He gently releases you on the bed then climbs over you. Goosebumps erect on your flesh as he caresses the side of your face, a strangely fond gesture considering everything he put you through.

“Please,” you mumble weakly. “You can have anyone you want. I have a husband.”

His face contorts into an expression of pure mockery, as if what you said was beyond ludicrous.

“I don’t want just anyone.” He lifts your chin, scorching blue gaze diving into yours. “I want you.”

“As for your husband…” His voice trails off as he traces your trembling bottom lip with his thumb. A crooked smirk drags his lips skyward. He leans over you to whisper, “Well I did say he’ll never have to worry about rent ever again, didn’t I?”

Your heart sinks. You can’t believe you trusted Coriolanus Snow. A foolish mistake. A dangerous mistake. One you’re now paying dearly. He not only trapped you…he also hurt Henry.

All because of you.

You will never forgive yourself.

“What did you do to him?” you ask, anger and heartbreak making your voice wobble.

A chill-inducing glint dances in his orbs.

“I haven’t done anything.” He cocks his head. “Rebels are criminals of the state and shall be sentenced as such.”

The world collapses around you.

A chasm of despair swallows you whole as quiet tears stream down your face.

As sobs shake your frame, President Snow plants soft kisses on your wet cheeks. You feel him grow hard against your belly as he hums, as if the taste of your hopelessness was ambrosia to him. Heavenly sweet.

He cups your face.

“Do not fret, dove. I’ll make sure you don’t miss a second of his execution.” The emptiness of his blue eyes staggers you, their depths as icy as a frozen lake. “It’s important for all citizens of Panem to learn from watching.”

The expression on his face turns downright diabolical. His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek.

“And I want you to learn as you watch the light go out in his eyes, dove, that this was inevitable, that I always win.”

His tone softens as his hands drag over your hips.

“I wonder how many children you’ll give me. Will they all sing as pretty as you?” The hurried rustle of his pants as he frees his cock freezes your blood. He bites his lip, lust already misting his gaze as he prods impatiently at your entrance.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out,” he croons.

THE BOYS

Valentine’sDayDrabbles/Headcanons. - Homelander, Soldier Boy, Black Noir

MySolider - Soldier boy x reader

Morality- Homelander x reader

Myprerogative- Homelander x reader

Myprerogative pt2 - Homelander x reader

“Christmas Magic" - Homelander x reader

Dolor - Black Noir x reader

Country girl - firecracker x reader

Excuse me?

Nah, people are weird as hell because what the fuck is this?

Only Nico stans are weird like this fr.

Hiya Barbie

"𝐀 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞"

n.o.t.e.s - The animate version of Doma got my toes curling.

w.a.r.n - penetration, creampies, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), non-con.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - Douma x Fem!human reader

w.c. - 1.2k

You remember your childhood like it was yesterday, living in debt by your parents. Sitting down on the grass, with your dirty kimono and hair, was messy as well.

Your parents were in debt, barely able to afford food for you and your siblings, working day and night for you while you helped with your siblings until your parents sold you off to the Ogimoto house. While you sat down at the wooden vanity, you removed white powder off your face.

It wasn't hard for you to climb the ranks of the Ogimoto house; it was preferably easy because of your beauty which tricks many of your clients into spending a lot in the house.

You were now a high-ranked Oiran, earning the Ogimoto house honor for your beauty and body. Rubbing off the red pigment off your lips, staring at yourself in the mirror with your bare face, gently touching your skin.

Here you are, looking at your raw beauty in the mirror, covered by powder and makeup, the top of your yukata slipped down to your shoulders, showing pieces of your skin. Unsurprisingly, your beauty was a weapon against other houses, your price went up, and your demand was higher than other Oirans in the red-light district, making the Ogimoto house busy with business.

Before you got to stand up, you heard the sliding shoji door open. A silvered head man walked into the room, he wore a black-to-red kimono. "Oh, I thought Daki was here" he exclaimed, flicking his golden fans over his face, his multi-colored eyes staring at you menacingly.

Your screams were still in your chest, as your heart was pumping fast, "But you're a too beautiful and for me not for me to enjoy"

"W-who are you" you yelled, crawling back until you hit your head on the surface of the wall, you manage to take one of your sharp hair pins. your eyes still on the silvered-head man. He walked towards your shaking body.

"Does it really matter" he cooed at you, cocking his head to the side, giving you a eerily smile.

Before you can even protect yourself, he was face to face with you holding your throat. You tried to pry his hand from your throat but failed too, struggling to find your breath.

"Be a doll, and don't scream" he whispered into your ear, your eyes staring at him in fear.

"Nod if you understand, darling" he demanded, you reluctantly nodding to his demands, his grip off your throat

"Now, beautiful, you'll do what I say before I consume you. Take your clothes," he said, gently cupping your face, his sharp fingers grazing your cheek, making a little cut on the cheek, soon licking the blood droplet.

You obeyed what the demon said as you trembled to remove your yukata, His multicolored eyes looking at you while you stripped yourself of your clothes, every piece of it.

The last fabric slipped off, showing your bare body to the silvered-head demon.

The rainbow-eyed demon licked his lick, as he saw your bare body in a display of him, your hands fisted in a ball. You were too smart to go against the strong demon, but the aura of the said demon gave you a bad feeling, especially with the kanji that look to be carved into his eye.

The number two.

You never saw a demon before, but from your first encounter, there were fearful beings.

The silver-head demon walked to you and cupped your face, he force you to look into his colored eyes, "You are gorgeous, maybe even tastier than most women, what's your name" the demon exclaimed.

"Y-Y/N" you stumbled out,

"Y/N" He tested it out, "Y/N-chan" he smiled at you, before he placed his hands on your bare shoulder, looking at you up and down, "Daki wasn't lying how beautiful you are, you sure look like a oiran"

"My name is Doma, Y/N-chan" he analyzed you and your name body.

You could barely even respond, how quick his fingers were already side you, before you got pressed on the wall.

You stumbled a moan out, from the quick action.

Your breast up against his chest, his finger plunging further side you, before pulling it out of you, giving a quick lick of his fingers.

"Your even more delicious, Y/N-chan" he looked at you with lust covered eyes.

The beating of your heart seemed to be growing rapidly near him, "Y/N.." Doma said, before he cocked his head to the side.

"...Turn around and bend over" he demanded, giving you a creepy smile.

You obey Doma, bending yourself to the walk, gripping your hands to the wall, exposing more of your parents to the demon.

It felt like the tension in the room could be sliced with a knife, before you felt his hands taking both your hands with one of his own pressing it to your bare back, forcing your body into the wall, your breast squished into the shoji wall.

You watched his movement with the corners it your eyes. The noise of a belt coming off, made your body tremble.

It was normal for you in the district with your clients, but you never did this with a demon nevertheless.

You felt him lining up to your entrance, his member splitting you open, the searing pain in your cunt. The simmering pain, as you tried to just to his size.

Your walls fluttered around his cock.

His hips rolling into yours, jackhammering in your pussy, you felt the pain in your lower region, hitting your lips.

"Fufufu, who knew your this wet for me, y/n-chan~" he whispered into your ear teasing you, he licked the tops of your ears.

Your hand still binds together, his razor-sharp nails scraping your hips. The pain turned into pleasure as he frequently plunged into you, you curved your back more, and your moans ranged out.

You lolled out your tongue, and your breath got heavier, feeling your legs numbed. Your cunt was on fire before you saw white, moaning out loud, turn your head back to get a glance of Doma.

His eyes were still filled with lust and contentment.

Your head was on the wall, his cock getting further into your cunt, your moans ranged out of your lips, eyes watering. Your pussylips dripped off your juices and blood.

He placed his head on your shoulder, muttering sinful things into your ears, making you hotter.

He bit your shoulder before spilling his seed into you; his white essence dripped down your legs, your walls sucking him dry.

Before he withdrew his dick from you, you fell to the floor, mixed liquids dripping onto the floor, before he shoved his dick into your mouth, kicking the oxygen out of you.

"Suck it" he demanded, his cock coming out and in into your mouth. Slick coating your lips, dripping onto your chest.

You looked at him, your e/c making eye contact with his own multi-colored eyes, before he took your head, slamming your head to his pelvis.

His pelvic hair tickled your face, drooling dripping out your mouth.

His length hit the back of your throat, gagging on it, trying to get air into your lungs, before he spilled his seed into your mouth, he grabbed the back of you by the hair off his cock.

A string of spit connected his dick to your mouth, and your tongue lolled out, as you greedily tried to breathe in the air.

Your eyelids felt heavy before you turn around to see Doma already have his pants on, fixing himself together. He bent down to your level, "Y/N-chan, I will spar your life, but.." he put one of his fingers on his cheek.

"You have to serve me and suit my needs" he smiled, as he finished, before gently grabbing your chin, tilting it up.

Your face felt hot, but who knew that you would be here just fucked a demon and got cummed in, but you had to face the fact.

"Yes, Doma"

mine ౨ৎ

A/N: I'm back, yeah I know. I've been out for a few months or years idk. I wanted to write this, cuz I love dad!kento, also this been in my mind rent-free, and just hell yeah. Also happy Valentine's Day, and sorry for the late submission, but this was part of my Valentine's book/smutbook on Wattpadd/a03 so just a cross-post.

WARNING: p in the v, oral sex, cursing, no condom we fuck raw, cunnilingus, not proofread lmao...

PAIRING: nanami kento x reader

WORD COUNTER: 3135

Every morning, it was the same routine just like before, children laughing at the scent of heavily waxed crayons and baby wipes in the air, and the occasional wail from reluctant toddlers and kids. You have gotten so used to the chaos of kids, the rush of parents dropping their kids off before heading off to work,

"Look Miss. L/N—do you like the picture I drew!" you turned your head to see one of the toddlers, standing right beside you showing a picture they drew. You smiled, patting their head, 

"This looks so good, I'll make sure to hang this on the bulletin board," you said, crouching down to take hold of the drawing, the toddler smiled, as they ran back to the other kids exclaiming about how her drawing got to the bulletin board.

Yeah, it was the usual for you, working at the daycare. You readjusted your pastel yellow colored apron, and your hair in a ponytail so it doesn't get in your face, it takes a bunch of energy to take care of these kids filled with energy all day, the sound of footsteps echoed through the sound of yelling kids, you turned to see 

Him.

Yuuji's dad

The moment he walked it, it made your heart beat faster, feeling your cheeks heating up. You were in a quiet panic, you tell yourself it's just another parent, and just another kid check—all a part of your routine, you breathed. Usually, he always on-time, greeting you with a smile—like he was happy to see you. Maybe it's the way he take an extra moment to ask about Yuji's dad, that made you feel some type of way—or the way his deep voice makes your stomach flutter just a little too much.

But today, he was running late. He was a little disheveled, his green, polka-dot tie was loosened, and his blonde hair tousled like his finger was through it a little too many times. He's holding Yuji's tiny backpack in his right as his other freehand is holding onto his hand, the little boy skipping alongside him.

"Mr. Nanami" you called out, a smile on your face,

"Sorry for the rush," he says, his voice a little breathless as he steps up to you, "Mornings are always something different with him.." he gestures to Yuuji who was practically waiting to be free to run around.

You let out a little laugh, crouching down to Yuuji, whose attention was on you, "Did you give your dad some trouble?" you asked, teasing him.

You watched as Yuuji shook his head furiously, laughing a little bit.

"No! I just made him chase me around" he confessed, with a cheeky smile on his lips. You looked at Nanami, who just sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and making you blush.

"He's not wrong" he admits, "he has speed—think I got to start training if I want to keep up with him"

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another smile, "Oh!—I'll take this" You took hold of Yuuji's backpack, and you felt Nanami's finger brushing against yours—the sensation of skin against skin made you freeze for a moment, it just send a sudden spark thorough you. 

The warmth of his hand is gone, as quick as it came as you had Yuuji's backpack in hand, your gaze flickered to him but he was looking directly at you. It wasn't a casual glance, not an accidental meeting of eyes—what were you even talking about, 

You cleared your throat, focusing back on Yuuji, "Alright, Yuji! You ready for a fun day" You smiled at him, and the pink-haired kid nodded enthusiastically, 

You stood up, as Nanami let out a small sigh, and ruffled Yuuji's hair, "Be good today, okay?" He patted Yuuji,

"I will, papa!" 

You watched as Yuuji started running into the play area, "You're really great with him, you know" You turned your attention to Nanami, his voice was softer but still deep. You fl your cheek heating up,  as you tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, "He's a great kid" you smiled.

He exhaled, for a small chuckle, "Yeah...he is—but I appreciate you looking out for him" he said, you nodded with a smile, turning a glance at Yuuji already playing with the other kids, 

"It's no problem," you said,  "it's actually my pleasure to have him with me"

He nods, taking a step backward, his attention now on his watch that was on his wrist, "Shoot—I have to go, I'll be a little late, picking Yuuji up"

"Okay!" you nodded, as you watched him leave out of the door, you tried to shake off the warmth that was still lingering from that one moment of fleeting touch, you started walking to the cubby as you put Yuuji's backpack in his cubby, 

𝜗𝜚

For the rest of the morning, you tried to shake off the lingering feeling from that brief touch, it clung onto you like so stubborn thought,—you couldn't let go of it. You were focused on your task—helping the kids with the art projects, cleaning up the paint spills, and singing songs during circle time. Suddenly, you felt Yuuji tugging at your sleeve, making you turn to him. 

"Miss L/N," he asked, tilting his head, you blinked down at him, "Yeah, Yuuji"

He grins after getting your attention, "My papa, thinks you're really nice.

You felt your stomach flipping, your breath hitched as you processed his words, before letting out a small laugh, a nervous one. "Oh? And how do you know that?" you asked, cocking your eyebrows.

"Cause he say so" Yuuji shrugs, completely unaware of the way his words send your heart into overdrive, "—And-and, one time, he said, 'Miss L/N, is really good with you, and I said yeah! And he smiled really big" 

Your breath caught slightly, "Well, I think your papa is really nice too"  you confessed, patting his head, you watched as he beamed, satisfied with your answer before he ran off again to join his friends at the craft table. Meanwhile, you were just crouching down gripping the stack of construction paper, realizing what JUST HAPPEN.

He talks about you...

You knew him to be polite, and kind—and always took an interest in his son's care, but the fact he brought you up in the conversation made your heart pang, even with the passing remark, made something warm bloom up in your chest.

As the day dragged on, parents started trickling into the daycare for pickup. Your eyes darted to the door as you helped give the parents their kid's backpack, you won't lie that you were waiting for him to show up, but it was going too late

And then, he walks in.

This time he wasn't rushed, his tie was still loosened even more, and you were able to see a little bit of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms that you definitely shouldn't be looking at—but everything about made your ovaries go crazy.

He had a small, tired small on his face as he spots you with Yuuji, sitting on one of the colorful tables coloring.

You stood up, walking towards Nanami, 

"Hey," he says, his warm, deep voice made you even smile more.

"Hi," you reply, and you curse yourself for how breathless you were, then Yuuji runs straight to his father, hugging him tightly, "Papa!"

"Hey, buddy" Nanami chuckles, ruffling his hair, "Did you have a good day today?" he asked,

Yuuji nods excitedly, "Uh-huh! We painted and played outside, and Miss L/N made us animal-shaped snacks"

"Animal-shaped snacks, huh" Nanami looked up at you, and you shrugged, feigning nonchalance, "What can I say, the kids love it," you said, laughing—a deep, rich..genuine sound that made your knees weak. "That's impressive, I could barely cut yuuji's sandwiches into triangles without messing it up"

"Well,—if you ever need tips on some snack artistry, I'm your girl," you said, before you even fully processed your words, you were clearly flirting with him, but your words were already out, you watched him as he smirked.

"I'll keep that in mind"

Some silence came after, but it was all as long as it came. It was replaced by the familiar rush of parents coming in to get their kids. You stepped back, offering a small smile, "Well, you heard from him, Yuuji had a great day. I'll see you both tomorrow" You pointed at them, with a smile.

Nanami hesitates for a moment, "Yeah..tomorrow" but before he turns to leave, he pauses for a moment like he wants to say something else. He glances down at yuuji, who's busy putting on his backpack, then back at you, 

"By the way..I was wondering...do you—" 

"PAPA, CAN WE GET ICE CREAM..PLEASE!!" Yuuji suddenly yells, catching you off-guard, and interrupting whatever is about to be said.  You laughed as Nanami let out an exaggerated sigh, ruffling his hair, "Sure"

You watched as Yuuji tugged his dad's hand, as you stood there, —wait what was he going to say to you? Nanami glances back at you, his lips twitching before sighing dramatically, "Guess we lost this round" he says, looking at Yuuji, "but maybe next time"

Your breath hitches before you can respond, and he just winks at you, leaving you speechless, breathless,—oh my gosh, you were just grinning like a idiot.

𝜗𝜚

The next morning, you were typing the back of your apron, as you tell yourself not to get your hopes up again, maybe last night was just a playful teasing, nothing serious—just friendly chit-chat.

But the way he hesitated before leaving, the way he said, 'maybe next time', the way he winked—it all replays in your head as you prep the daycare, wiping down the table with wipes.  You shook your head, trying to push away your thoughts—you were at work, just another day, nothing special.

With the sound of the door opening, you turned your head to see Nanami walking into the daycare.

He wasn't wearing his usual collar shirt with a tie, instead, he was wearing a light brown sweater, and his hair was slightly messier. Yuuji was bouncing excitedly beside him, but Nanami's eyes were still on you,

"Morning," he says, his voice was smoother than usual.

"Good morning" you reply, forcing yourself to sound normal, even though your heart was still racing, yuuji let go of his dad's hand, and started to run to the toy corner, leaving you too alone. Nanami exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, "So...about yesterday"

'yesterday?"

Your stomach flips, "What about it?"

He chuckles slightly, shifting on his feet. "I was actually trying to ask you something before someone—" he shoots a playful glare at Noah, who was completely entrance as he played with one of the toy dinosaurs in his hand.

You arch your brows, crossing your arms in mock suspicion, "What were you going to ask" you tilted your head, and he paused, as he thought for a moment, "You're really gonna make me say it, huh?"

You eyes widen for a moment, biting your lip, wait—

"I don't know what you mean"

He laughs softly, shaking his head, "I was going to ask...if you like to get dinner with me"

Dinner with Nanami, you felt your heart-stopping.

"Dinner?" your voice almost cracking, 

"Yeah" he says, clearing his throat,

"Like a date?" you asked, his lips curved into a dangerous smirk—the one that makes your knees feel weak, "Yeah, a date."

"Oh..wow, I—uh, wasn't expecting that" 

"Really" he arches a brow, "I expected that Yuuji isn't good at keeping my secrets" You glanced over at Yuuji, who was playing with the dinosaurs, and you shook your head with a grin. "I don't know...I think he's been pretty discreet" You smiled.

Nanami laughs, then exhales softly, "So..what would you say?"

"Yeah, of course" you smiled, feeling your face heating up. His shoulder relaxes, "Great—how about Friday?"

"Friday is perfect" 

"Good" he glances at yuuji then back at you, "I should go—before he accidentally sets something on fire"

"Good idea" you laugh.

"I'll text you"

"Y-yeah" you nodded, as you waved him 'goodbye'.

...

You were staring at your closet, as your clothes were scattered all over your bed, the door wide open, revealing an overwhelming selection, but everything was not—quite right. Too casual, too formal, too boring, too much.  You groaned in frustration, running a hand through your hair, as you pulled up another dress, holding it against yourself in the mirror,

it was an off-shoulder black dress, it was cute, simple, and flattering. 

You looked back at your phone, checking the time, thirty more minutes,

You felt your stomach doing nervous flips, as you became anxious about the date, you didn't know how Nanami had been having a crush on you for the whole time,— the man who somehow makes dropping his kids off at daycare look effortlessly attractive, making your ovaries practically screaming—is the one that asked you out on a date. 

You slip on the press, smoothing the fabric down, as you step into a pair of heels, looking in the mirror. The dress looked good on you, snagging the right parts of your curves. The sound of your phone notifications, you reached for your phone, he was almost here, and your heart was beating against your chest.

...

You walked out of your apartment, to hear the sound of a car pulling up outside making your heart stutter. You peek out the window, and sure enough, he was there. His car—sleek, understate,d and classy, just like him. He steps out, adjusting his tie, and scanning the street before looking at you,

"You look beautiful" he murmurs, a slow warmth spread through your chest as he compliments you. "Thank you" trying to keep your voice light despite your pulse practically racing now, 

You watched as he opened the door for you, the gesture smooth effortless, like second nature. You slide in, as he rounds the car to get himself inside, allowing you to have a moment to breathe, you look in the sideview mirror, giving yourself another look before he gets in.

You were going to have him for the whole night—and you were so ready.

.

The restaurant was elegant, but not too flashy—refined, intimate, the king of place that perfectly suit Nanami perfectly. The soft lighting casts a golden hue over the room, the quiet hum of jazz playing in your background.

It was clear that Nanami made a reservation for this restaurant, everything about him was precise, intentional, and well thought-out. He pulled out a chair before he took a seat at his own chair,

"Is everything alright?" he asked, like a gentleman

You nodded, smiling

"It's perfect"

The waiter hands you both menus, you don't glance at them though, not when Nanami was watching you like that—calm, observant, his gaze steady and searching.

"I have to admit" he began talking after a moment, setting his menu down, "This surprise you said yes"

You blinked for a moment, tilting your head slightly, "And why's that?"

Nanami exhales, rolling his sleeves up just a little, revealing his stronger foreman that you couldn't stop staring at, his finger tapping idly against the table. "You..." you pause, considering your words, 

"You're warm, bright. You make things lighter just by being there"

The compliment is unexpected, a raw in a way you don't often hear from him.

"And I assumed someone like you..would already have a boyfriend..or something"

Your lips parted, his comment catching you off-guard, by the weight of his words, "Well,  you murmur, "I suppose you're lucky I don't" you teased,

Nanami's lips twitched slightly—not quite into a smirk, but something else.

...

But you wouldn't have expected to be here, your dress pulled up as you were bent over for Nanami, feeling his cock being stuffed into you, as you moaned. You half-lidded eyes, as he roamed your body, his rough hands on your waist.

'pap!, pap!, pap!'

the sound of your wet cunt being plunged by Nanami's cock, echoed through the hotel room—it was too much, gosh.

Your clothes or whatever was left of your dress was on the floor, including his, the smell of sex lingering in the air, 

"Hngh.." you moaned, as his hips kept on rolling into you, feeling his cock hitting your cervix, making your eyes roll back. His hips slamming into your ass, with each powerful thrust. You felt yourself clenching down, tightening around his cock.

"Fuck" Nanami curses, 

He leaned down near your ears, his hand roughly grabbing onto your face, "You want me to fuck you harder, don't you" his voice was a low growl, "Want me to shove my cock into your tight—little pussy" you nodded frantic, you just wanted release. His cock just filled you up, feeling a bulge imprinted on your stomach, as he fucked you.

"Y-yes" you whimpered, your body trembling with need. You felt his grip pulling you near him, as you felt his washing board abs on your back.

You didn't know how many orgasms you were through, but your pussy was spent, battered, and bruised from his veiny cock.

 His rough hands cupped your breast, squeezing it gently, making you gasp. Your body arching towards him, as he rolled your sensitive buds between his fingers, your pupils were dilated,

You heard his low chuckle, as "You like that, do you?" his dirty talking making you more arousal, as you clenched down on him,  "S-shit" he groaned, 

His hips rutting against your ass, 

He leaned down, his mouth clamped down on your nipple, his teeth sinking into your tender flesh, and you mewled out. Your body bucking against his body, you felt your body trembling, you were so close, 

"You'll be such a good mommy for yuuji, huh," he said, his hot breath was against your ear, making you mewl, his cock was still fucking into your poor cunt. "Get you pregnant with my kid, and have you at home instead of the daycare"  he groans into your ear, 

You felt your orgasm building, the intensity growing with each passing moment. You moaned loudly, Nanami kept on thrusting into you. His hard cock hits your cervix again, sending shockwaves through your body.  He leaned into you for a rough kiss, as felt his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, moaning against him.

You withdrew, coming up for air, feeling his finger rubbing onto your clit, harshly rubbing on your nub, you felt light-headed from his touches, as you whimpered against his touch,

"Fuck—you feel s' good" he growled, his hips moving faster as he jackhammered you. His rough hands guided you up and down your cock,

"Ken m'so close—"

 you felt the coil in your stomach bursting, as you came down on his cock, clenching down tightly. Crying out in ecstasy, your body trembling from your orgasm, it was intense, feeling the pulse of pleasure radiating through your body.

You were riding out your high, as Nanami groaned in your ear, his cock pushing deep inside of you, filling you up. You felt his hot, gooey cum spurting into your womb, filling you with his hot seed. 

"Haaa..." your eyes practically rolling back as you felt cunt being stuffed, with his cum

"Your so good f' me..baby" he whispered in your ear, 

 so good...

𝜗 chocolatey 𝜚

☆ My name is NORA

This is my only Tumblr page.

I write for multiple fandoms and like to read.

Spofity - @𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖟𝖙𝖊𝖑

Discord - @𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖟𝖙𝖊𝖑#3142

Wattpad - Peachyry