cervvsq

[cervvsq]

breaking my silence to say —

sunrise on the reaping.

fucking. brutal.

haymitch my baby 😖

snow, you are OBSCENE.

— cervvsq out. to go cry.

[cervvsq]

since i can slowly feel my writers block fading for the spring, i’ve decided to make a taglistttt!!

please reply to this post if you would like to be added 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

[cervvsq]

to new beginnings.

summary: coryo’s peacekeeper days are coming to an end. when you two reunite in district 12 on visiting hours, he shows you just how ecstatic he is to get back home with you.

warnings: smut (fingering + p in v), swearing, mention of a gun

coriolanus has lost count at how long his foot had been anxiously tapping the ground whilst he awaited your arrival.

what if you didn’t come to see him? what if some district scum had hijacked the train to hurt you? what if—

all of his far fetched thoughts came to a halt when you emerged out of the train, your pretty eyes glancing around for him. oh, those eyes. how he had missed them.

he can’t wait to see how they’ll light up when he tells you the news.

he’s coming home. back to his darling girl.

his pearly whites flashed the effortless capitol smile, even if he was miles away from there right now. not for long.

your expectant gaze landed on him after a couple seconds, his now diminished curls making it harder to recognise him in a crowd. you always loved his hair, the startle you had when you first saw it shaved was comical.

“coryo!” you called out, not caring about how a capitol lady should act right now. you ran towards him, his muscular arms out ready.

jumping into his embrace, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, feeling an immense weight lifting off your shoulders.

“someone’s missed me,” he teased, earning a playfully harsh look from you. he chuckled, leaning forward and murmuring, “hi, baby,”before his lips finally, finally landed on yours.

your hands instinctively went to grip onto his nonexistent curls, yet you ended up having to make do with scraping your freshly-manicured nails across his scalp.

reluctantly, you both pulled away, and he set you down onto the ground.

lost in each other’s eyes, all you could do was admire the man you got to call yours.

the snow family might not be on top right now, but you knew coriolanus would build his status up once he left this place. partly because you knew your strong boyfriend could do anything, and partly because he would remind you of his plans whenever he got the chance.

“i missed you so much, my sweet girl.” his nose brushed against yours, your eyes closing as you rested your forehead against his.

“i missed you more.”

the train whistling and the on charge peacekeepers yelling for everyone to move off the platform ripped you both out of the moment, his hand finding yours.

the routine you two had formed was put in place every time you visited. go straight to his (private) dormitory: talk, fuck, cuddle, whatever. then, once the skies were beginning to turn orange, you both would take a walk in the many meadows of district 12.

despite all the horrid stories coriolanus had told you about this place, you found it strangely peaceful. calm. that being said, you only came a few hours every month.

last month, you asked if you could go into the town, having not left the capitol your whole life making your curiosity spark. coriolanus had firmly said no, wanting to keep you ‘away from those lunatics’.

you didn’t know how he did it, staying here for so long. it was torture for you, not seeing him, but you were granted with the luxuries of the city along with your families money.

coryo had refused to accept any offer you had given him to help his living situation back in the capitol. claiming he would be showering you with his own riches in the future, with you as his wife. the idea of that made your heart warm.

ᥫ᭡

“where are we going, coryo? i thought your place was that way.” you pointed over to the rickety building down the street. he wrapped an arm around your waist, a small glimmer in his eyes.

“i thought we could take a walk down to the meadows, y’know, before it gets dark.” he said, leading you through the bustle of other peacekeepers with their family.

“it’s the middle of the day.” you stated bluntly, suspicion growing as your eyebrows furrowed.

he dismissed your point, changing the subject. you reached the trees and grass, not far from his small dorm which was on the outskirts of the streets.

at the bottom of the hill sat the large oak tree you both had grown familiar with attending. however, bright flowers and flourishing grass wasn’t the only thing you could see next to it.

a blanket laid at the bottom, a basket on top, filled with contents. you smiled, pleasantly intrigued. turning around, you met coryo’s proud look.

“what is this?” you giggled, grabbing his hand tighter and pulling him down the hill with you.

coriolanus almost stumbled as you ran down, eliciting more of your giggles. once you arrived at the little arrangement, you beamed, crouching down at what was in the basket.

freshly picked fruits, a small handful of beautiful flowers, and… a polaroid picture. you squinted, picking it up and examining it. a gasp escaped your lips when you saw what it contained.

it was the picture you and coriolanus took on your last date in the capitol, oblivious to the fact he would be sent to district 12 in less than a day. a happy memory, yet a sad shadow of what was to come following. your smile faltered slightly at the recollection of saying goodbye.

“coryo… i didn’t know you brought this. but this is so sweet, what’s all this for?” you turned to look at him, his cheeks slightly pink from his own gesture.

he didn’t say anything at first, sitting down on the rough blanket opposite you. you did the same, getting comfy and running your hands over the soft grass beneath you. reaching out, he took the picture from your hands.

“this photo reminds me of what i’m getting out of staying here. knowing that i’m going to be with you after i leave motivates me more and more every day.” he continued, staring down at the polaroid. “and i hope you know how much joy it brings me to know we’re going to be recreating this soon.”

if you weren’t confused before, you were now.

“what do you mean? there’s only cameras in the capitol.” you inquired. his eyes met yours once more, silently admitting what he was alluding.

your jaw dropped. “but that means… you’re coming home?” you breathed, terrified you were dreaming.

coriolanus broke out into a smile, nodding. “one more week, and i’ll be the one looking for you on the platform.”

you squealed, lunging forward and practically tackling him onto the ground. “coriolanus!!” your voice nearly broke, “you’re coming home, you’re actually coming home,”

he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you just as tight. “i’m coming home, darling.”

a tear of joy swam down your cheek, your breath hitching as his lips crashed onto yours. his hand traveled up into your hair, not granting you any space to move away from him whilst his other hand gripped your waist.

what started off as a kiss full of gratitude gradually turned into something hot and heavy, your lips moving against each other sloppily.

he sat up, allowing your legs to straddle him whilst he kissed you senseless. soon enough, his tongue slipped into your mouth hungrily, dominating you even when you’re sat on top. his desire for control never wavered, it seemed.

you certainly weren’t complaining.

the hand on your head moved down to the hem of your dress, snaking underneath and moving all the way up to graze over your bra. your heart was racing now, and the bulge in his pants being right underneath your clothed pussy wasn’t helping.

his hand moving to unclasp your bra was a tell he was ready to fuck you silly — a habit you’d noticed a few rounds back. only one of you must’ve remembered you were in the middle of a meadow, and fucking on the ground wouldn’t be very hygienic.

“coryo-…” you tried to speak through his kisses, “we… can’t… not here.”

he groaned into the kiss, his hand smoothing over the soft skin of your back. he was impatient, you could tell. so were you, but not enough to have sex next to a tree.

when your hands rested on his shoulders, coaxing him to pull away, he did so with a sigh and a rather pressing problem. you smiled down at that yearning look on his face, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

your fingers began gently combing over his hair. you had to admit, the buzz cut did enhance his sharp features, making him more masculine. but you missed tugging at his curls.

“you’ll be happy to grow your curls back.” you murmured, voice soft and nurturing. his eyes closed at your nails raking over his head, nodding slowly and letting out a deep noise of agreement.

as much as he loved to be in control over everything, to be the strong, capable man in the relationship — you knew how much he secretly loved being cared for, loved hearing your soothing voice. it usually calmed him down whenever his short temper flared.

his head leaned forward, lips going to your neck. you felt him inhale through his nose, taking in the scent of your perfume. “can’t wait to wake up with you next to me, every day.”

you sighed dreamily at the idea.

the birds chirping, the smell of summer combined with the feel of your boyfriend holding you and placing tiny kisses along your collarbone felt like heaven.

your eyes spotted the basket with fruit inside, mostly strawberries. leaning forward, you picked one out.

“did you pick these?”

“mhm.” was all coriolanus replied, distracted by how good you felt against him and how sweet your skin tasted on his lips.

you rolled your eyes at his antics, pulling back and holding the strawberry up to his lips. begrudgingly, he took a bite, pissed from the sudden lack of touch.

you two stayed there for a short while, talking about little things and eating the fruit coriolanus had picked. he talked about the future, how his days in the districts are, and how different things are run in the capitol. you could tell he missed the city; you’d certainly be eager to get back if you spent months in district 12.

you filled him in on pointless gossip, how tigris was, and what you both were gonna do when he came home. it was all very exciting, knowing your life together would begin a week from now.

after all of your chatting (and a few make out sessions), the sun was setting, and you both decided to head back to his room. you’d be leaving in the morning, but it wouldn’t be as painful this time. knowing that you’d be seeing one another again in a week was riveting.

ᥫ᭡

coriolanus’ room was small. especially compared to how peacekeepers dormitories looked in the capitol. thankfully, due to all his hard work, and his last name, he had a private dorm.

you had gotten used to this little place, it almost felt sad to know this was the last night you’d spend in here. but you also knew the future held much more exciting times.

coryo sat on his bed with a sigh, taking off his shirt and leaning back against the wall. the heat in here was high in summer. another reason why he couldn’t wait to get home.

but whilst his mind was set on that, you were wearily eyeing the rifle sitting in the corner of his room.

he seemed to notice your unease, following your gaze to the gun. he sighed again. “baby—”

“do you use that often?” you blurted out, cutting him off.

yes. but you didn’t need to know that.

“no.” he lied, standing up and walking in front of you, blocking your vision from seeing the weapon.

“it’s just for my protection, sweetheart. you know what these rebels are like.” his finger tilted up your chin to look at him.

you didn’t seem too convinced at his reasoning — but you didn’t understand just what his job was exactly. ‘protecting people’, he had told you. it wasn’t a full lie, he supposed. it was better if you didn’t know he’s seen and dealt with more bodies than he’d like to admit.

“sometimes, these people do stupid things that put lives at risk. in some cases, a gun is the only way to stop them from hurting me or others.” he placed a kiss on your forehead, “i do it so i can come home to you. to us.”

his words made you focus more on how his hand was gently rubbing on your back rather than him shooting innocent people. you nodded, arms lifting to wrap around his neck. this pulled you closer, noses brushing once more.

“okay. i trust you.” you whispered, your lips parting slightly as you gazed up at him. you were in such close proximity now, and suddenly the temperature felt higher.

you saw the way the look in his eyes changed, and how his hand moved down to your ass, making your heart skip a beat.

“it’s getting late,” he taunted, “maybe i should show you just what i’m going to do once i get back home, yeah?” his hand squeezed your ass, causing you to gasp.

“yeah…” your voice was breathless, filled to the brim with need.

he chuckled at that, at how fucking needy you were when he hadn’t even touched you properly yet. with one last glance at your desperate expression, he kissed you deeply, picking you up and walking over to his bed.

your legs wrapped around his waist, whimpering into the kiss when you felt him harden against you. he placed you down onto the bed, your chest rising up and down in heavy breaths of lust.

coriolanus swore under his breath at the sight of you sprawled out in front of him, that hazy look in your eye that screamed ‘fuck me’.

one tap on your knee made your legs slowly spread, your light summer dress hiking up to show him your damp panties. this elicited an actual groan of hunger and desire from your boyfriend, his bulge almost looking painful.

not wasting another second, his hands grabbed your thighs, dragging you closer. one hand went to your neck as he leaned forward and captured your lips whilst the other went down to the waistband of your underwear.

but before he touched you, he went back up to your dress, pulling it over your head and exposing your bra. now you were nearly fully bare for him, just how he likes it. soon enough, his hand trailed down, teasing you through your panties.

whining into his lips, your hips bucked up, which made him pin you down. he muttered something about patience, but how could you be patient with all this teasing?

“coryo,” you pleaded, your sweet little voice higher in hopes to persuade him to fuck you sooner. “coryo, please—!”

your begging got cut off shamelessly by his hand pulling your panties to the side and slamming two fingers inside of you, earning the first moan from you in months of not seeing each other.

his fingers didn’t move, but his thumb began to rub mindless circles on your clit, making your eyes nearly roll back.

“oh, baby, you love it when i take care of this soaking pussy, don’t you? yeah? love it when i do this?” his fingers began curling inside you, resulting in your nails scraping down his back and mewls leaving your lips.

when you didn’t reply, he pulled his hand away, slapping your cunt and tutting. you gasped at the sensation, “yes! yes, i love it,” you whined. he nodded approvingly, this thumb finding your clit again.

your arms reached out for him, grasping onto his back and pulling him closer. he kissed you again, tongue going in and out of your mouth whilst he murmured vulgar words.

“gonna get you all nice and wet for me, all ready for my cock, angel.”

his fingers slipped inside you again, curling and moving in and out.

he groaned, “fuck, i can feel you squeezing my fingers. are they not enough for you, huh? not enough for my little slut?”

the words leaving his lips alone were probably enough to bring you to the edge, never mind when he was attacking your clit and simultaneously fucking you with his fingers.

after a long month of no orgasms, you reached your brink, throwing your head back as loud moans filled the room. he encouraged you to cum on his fingers, and not a moment later you were coating them with your slickness.

your head leaned against his shoulder, his hand holding the back of your head as he hovered above you. slowly, he adjusted your position, lifting you up and sitting you on his lap.

you having one orgasm wasn’t nearly enough for coryo. even if you were slightly spent after that hard release, you still felt your core craving his cock. he was right, his fingers weren’t enough right now.

“coryo?” you mumbled, that same heat permeating your tone. he picked it up immediately, and you could hear the smirk on his face.

“darling?”

you bit your lip, lifting your head from his shoulder and brushing your lips against his. “need you.”

his smirk grew wider. “how do you need me, my sweet girl?”

you squirmed in his lap, not used to saying all the inappropriate phrases like him. he noticed your shyness.

“need me to fill that cunt?”

you swallowed, nodding.

feeling a slight wave of boldness, your hands went down to his pants, unzipping his trousers. he let out a breath he must’ve been holding for a while.

while you messed with his boxers, his hands went to your panties, pulling them down to reveal your sensitive cunt, glistening with your arousal.

you had taken out his rock hard length from his boxers, and you swear you could’ve drooled at the sight of it. sometimes you forgot just how big he was, and how easily he could slip into your pussy.

just as you plucked up the courage to sink onto him, he grabbed your hips, lifting you up and lowering you down onto his aching cock.

now both of your moans and groans could be heard throughout the room.

coriolanus had whimpered, actually whimpered, when he felt you tighten around him. you panted heavily, trying your best not to squirm at the feeling of him fully inside you. it seemed everywhere he touched was enough to make you shudder in pleasure.

so when he snapped his hips up, his hand grabbing your breast through your lacy bra, you nearly toppled into him from the ecstasy revelling through your body.

the sound of skin slapping and heavy breathing was the only thing heard in the room — at least until he picked up the pace. your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into him whilst you moaned breathlessly.

whilst he fucked you, a series of crude words spilled out. “gonna make my future wife pregnant already, yeah? gonna…” he groaned, “gonna fuck my kids into you, make you the wealthiest woman in the country when i get back home.”

his burning thirst for power had not gone unnoticed. a combination of his two favourite feelings — you, and the feeling of control.

you didn’t mind. coriolanus was always obsessed with coarse talk during sex.

his cock relentlessly hit your sweet spot, repeatedly moving in and out no matter how hard you clenched around him. your second climax was already round the corner, he could tell, yet it came sprinting when he decided to rub your clit once more.

“fuckk, yeah, yeah baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock.”

your lips parted, holding your breath as you rode out your orgasm. tilting your head back, you pulsed around him, whimpering when you felt his dick twitch inside of you. he definitely wasn’t far behind.

with a final groan of bliss, his head fell forward onto your chest, your bodies sweaty and the aftermath of sex relaxing your limbs. your chin rested on top of his head, both of you taking the time to catch your breath.

you stayed like that for a short while, before taking each other again, and again. a month apart always felt like a year when it came to this. you both had learned to use time to it’s advantage — you were permitted to leave at 7am the latest.

but this time was different. it was the last time you’d be rushing to undress each other, the last time you’d be waking up with nightmares that he had been in a terrible accident. the last time he’d be worried your parents decided to marry you off. it wasn’t uncommon in the capitol.

all of your trepidations were guaranteed to dissipate in a mere week.

ᥫ᭡

“coryo,” your voice echoed through coriolanus’ ears. was he dreaming? it sure wouldn’t be the first time.

“coryo.” you repeated. he must be dreaming, your angelic voice isn’t usually blessing him in the mornings.

“coriolanus, get up. i have to leave in thirty minutes.”

that sure woke him up.

his eyes opened, squinting immediately at the rising sun seeping through the window. luckily, he was greeted with a perfect sight this morning.

you, sat up with the sheets barely covering your chest, nearly on top of him from how small this bed was. no need to dwell on how annoying it was now, not when he had six days to go.

your hair was tangled, multiple love bites decorating your collarbone from the past nights activities. what a sight for sore eyes.

however, his admiration was cut short when he registered what you had said. “thirty minutes?” he croaked. his voice was always a tone deeper in the mornings.

you nodded, “i’m going to miss my train if we don’t set off soon.” your expression was doleful, causing his heart to ache.

he turned over, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “maybe i should just keep you here.”

you sighed. he always made comments like these, and it pained to know they could never do them.

cupping his face in your hands, you tilted his head up. leaning forward, you gave him a soft kiss. you had learned to relish these little moments.

“alright, i have to get dressed now.” you murmured against his lips.

“i know you do.” he groaned, making no effort to move.

smiling against him, you pulled away, not letting him be the reason you miss your train and get yelled at by a chief commander (again).

once you both reluctantly got changed, it was now time to make your ways to the platform. in your opinion, the walk there was worse than the goodbye itself.

strangely, this time it felt… peaceful.

knowing it would be your last time walking on this grass, through the rocky cobbled streets, it was oddly calming.

the train came in a matter of minutes due to your late arrival, to you and coryo’s despair. he pulled you closer, if that was possible, your foreheads resting together again.

“this week is gonna go by so slow.” he murmured. he wasn’t wrong, but you were rarely the negative one in the relationship.

“no it won’t,” you smiled, “we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

he grinned, “our last time saying goodbye.”

you tilted your head, “i don’t think of it as a goodbye. i think of it as a… ‘see you soon’. that sounds better, don’t you think?”

his smile turned gentler, his hand moving form your waist to your cheek. “i like that.”

“alright, alright, everybody! make your way onto the train!” the imperious peacekeepers shouted out their demands.

coriolanus wasted no more time, catching your lips with his. the last kiss was always so deep, it would linger on you for the rest of the day.

pulling away after a few moments, you smiled, a small tear in your eye. departing from your boyfriend was always difficult, yet you both wore proud smiles at what the very near future held.

“see you soon, coryo.”

“see you soon, baby.”

ᥫ᭡

a/n: yay i finally did a one shot with no angst !! 😇😇 i was fighting for my sanity to not let them have their happy ending but i think we all needed some fluff. hope you enjoyed <3

[cervvsq]

thank youuuu!! i literally ly all😭💝💝💝💝💝💝

i wish coryo was here to wish me a happy birthday today 🥳🎉

[cervvsq]

thank you bby🩷

i wish coryo was here to wish me a happy birthday today 🥳🎉

[cervvsq]

i wish coryo was here to wish me a happy birthday today 🥳🎉

[cervvsq]

rules. — ii

part i

summary: the aftermath of coriolanus’ doings causes many unsolved problems between the two of you, and your marriage needs to heal.

warnings: talk of sex but no actual smut, you dealing with the consequences of what happened to you, angst, swearing, ends in fluff 😇

masterlist

sighing, you shut the door to your bedroom, kicking off your heels and walking into your large closet. once again, another painfully awkward dinner with your dear husband.

stopping in your tracks, your eyes landed on the box sat on your vanity, the material already looking expensive from afar. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

another one.

stalking towards the millionth gift, your fingers delicately unraveled the silky ribbons.

it was beautiful, you had to admit.

a thin band of gold created a glistening yet classy necklace, with a small clover in the middle. the exact one you and clemensia were chatting excitedly about during last night’s dinner with associates.

must be a coincidence.

those 4 words were on repeat in your mind frequently now. especially every time the product you barely mentioned ended up on your vanity table the next day and every time your lips dared to tug up into smile at your husband’s antics.

no amount of financial gain he could grant would be close to the amount of pain he had caused.

it was a harsh reminder at times. that you couldn’t see him the same as before. and oh, how badly did you want to.

to forgive him, to go back to how it was.

before the awkward silences in car rides.

before rushing to go to sleep before he comes to bed.

but no. even if you had some form of love for him, it wasn’t enough to falter the absolute loathing you felt towards him sometimes.

the pure hatred you felt for letting him take advantage of you that night. in your most vulnerable state.

the pure hatred you felt for yourself every time you looked at your bare body, knowing he had ruined it. he had chewed you up and spit you out, leaving a memory of the girl who viewed herself as a siren.

so no, his little gifts didn’t bring much joy anymore.

as if another fucking necklace is going to make up for what he’s done. it sure wasn’t the first thing around your neck lately. hell, maybe he should stab you and buy a new dress, then everything will be fine—

“i take it the necklace is not to your liking.”

his voice ripped you out of your frustrating thoughts. your narrowed eyes and fingertips digging into the leather box snitched on your inner feelings. turning around, you faked a smile for what felt like the tenth time today.

“it’s beautiful. thank you.” your teeth gritted, “it’s the… third piece of jewellery this week.”

coriolanus matched your tight smile. “yes, well, my wife can never have too much fashion items. what else would you and clemensia giggle about?” he tried to diffuse the tension.

you didn’t laugh. instead, you nodded, your smile dropping as you turned around and placed the box somewhere it will only be merely glanced at. he didn’t need to know that.

the last thing you heard from coriolanus was a small sigh, before he walked into the bathroom.

no more words were shared for the rest of the night.

ᥫ᭡ 4 days later

5 times.

5 times did you have to endure adding another present to your shelves. at this rate, you would need a new room dedicated to his gifts.

you found yourself wondering why he was doing this. were they meant to be apologies? that nearly made you laugh.

it angered you, not knowing why. did he feel guilty? he must do, why else would he bawl in your arms the next day?

you thought about that moment a lot. more so than the actual assault. it had perplexed you, really. sometimes it disturbed you.

how he could go to hitting you, screaming in your face, punishing you — to staining your skin with his poisonous tears.

“‘m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he had cried. the sound of his wracking sobs made your heart clench, even if the very man you had tried to love destroyed you.

nevertheless, you were sick and tired of adding another bracelet, another pair of heels, or another goddamn dress to your shelves.

so imagine your surprise when yet another box of whatever luxury item he had bought showed up on your vanity.

you could not care less at whatever contents it held.

letting your nails dig into your palms and your expression to harden, you strutted towards the prize. picking it up, you didn’t spare another glance at anything else as you quickly paced towards coriolanus’ office.

usually, you would knock first. it was what a proper wife does, to not disturb her husband. now, you hoped with every morsel in your body you did disturb him.

slamming the box onto his desk, you ignored his dumbfounded expression.

“i want you to send this back. and every other gift you’ve bought for me recently.” you breathed heavily, shooting daggers at him.

his floored look only lasted for a few seconds, and he lowered the papers in his hand. he now simply stared at you, calmer than ever.

“as you wish. i’ll get someone to escort it out of our room later.” he stated, before picking up his documents and scanning them again.

oh.

you felt rather foolish standing here now.

“…you’re not going to ask why?” you replied, now the stunned one.

he shook his head.

you let out an exasperated sigh. “coriolanus.”

he looked up, raising his eyebrows for you to continue.

blinking a few times, you were at a loss for words. “do you even care?”

there was a deeper meaning beneath your sudden question, and you both knew it. it had remained unspoken between the two of you, even if the tension had raised tenfold in the air.

setting down his papers once more, he cleared his throat. a habit of his you’d noticed whenever he was trying to remain being the one in control of the conversation.

“i have no problem if the clothes aren’t suitable enough for you—“

“that’s not what i meant.”

he paused. you tried not to look at the way his hands were trembling ever so slightly. “explain it to me, then.”

“you… i-” you sighed, now feeling helpless. “how long is it gonna be like this, coriolanus?”

you shouldn’t have came here. every logical part of your body was screaming at you to just walk out, leave him be. but you couldn’t. you had to save your marriage — even if it was you who needed saving.

he opened his mouth to speak, yet no words left his lips. for a moment, you almost felt scared. it’s not like before. you didn’t need to shudder with worry at the thought of saying the wrong thing, refusing to go anywhere private in fear of getting a cruel scolding, maybe even a harsh slap.

if you had barged into his office and bombarded him with these questions a few weeks ago, you would’ve already been bent over his lap getting called names you didn’t think a president would even know.

but instead of grabbing your hair and reminding you who’s in charge, he stood up, straightening his suit. “i have an important call i need to make at work.”

just leave! you told yourself, but you found your feet moving to stand in front of him before you could register.

“no, don’t walk out on me.” your voice was stubborn, refusing to let him go.

oh, how the tables had turned. weren’t you the one getting threatened not to leave every day? now look at you.

he didn’t care, simply walking past. “coriolanus.”

he picked up his briefcase.

“coriolanus!” you were pleading now.

he opened the door.

“coryo.”

he stopped. you fell silent.

that name hadn’t left your lips ever since the incident occurred. it was almost unknown to you now — a shadow of who he was.

as embarrassing as it felt, you felt tears pool in your eyes. he didn’t turn around.

you both stood there, his back to you, anticipation and uncertainty revolving around the room.

as much as you thought you despised him and his ways, you wanted nothing more than for him to turn around and tell you everything you needed to hear. how much he hurt you, how much you needed healing.

the only thing you received was a sigh and his footsteps receding down the hall.

ᥫ᭡ one day later

you and coriolanus hadn’t spoken much since that afternoon. another day had gone by, and you were exhausted. funny how he can find a way to tire you out even when he practically lives at work.

now, turning your bedside lamp off, the last step of your evening routine was to fall asleep before he came home. the last time you were still awake and felt him getting into bed made your heart race. spending another sleepless night trying to pry off nightmares was not very tempting.

an easy task you would’ve thought, until you felt a hand on your bare shoulder.

freezing, you didn’t think twice to know who it was.

he murmured your name, almost asking if he can touch you. there’s always a first time for everything.

other than small brushes during dinners and fake hand holding during galas, this was the first time he had put a hand on you in private.

after a moment of deep contemplation and pretending to ignore the uncomfortable twist in your stomach, you nodded.

he slowly, carefully laid down on the bed, his arm reaching across and smoothing against your upper body. as if he was terrified you were going to shatter into a million pieces at one wrong movement.

he wasn’t entirely wrong.

his chest pressed against your back, and he lowered his face into your hair from behind, legs not touching. only 3 parts of your bodies were grazing together and his heart was pounding against your back. yours was doing the same.

in silence, you didn’t dare to move. for weeks now, the thought of you two even hugging again was enough to send you into a spiral. but strangely, this felt… different.

this time he wasn’t pressing his cock against your ass, placing kisses along your neck.

this time he wasn’t embracing you after hours of sex.

no, this was different. he was different.

“the sheer pain i have caused you… will haunt me until the day i die.” his deep voice rang in your ears. “and i do not expect one ounce of your forgiveness, nor do i deserve that privilege. i just…”

he trailed off, taking in a sharp breath and exhaling through his nose. was he crying?

“i need you, so, so much. i love you, and the thought of how much suffering i have delivered throughout the years makes me sick.”

now it was your turn to cry.

“you scared me that night.” you whispered, trying to not reveal your breaking voice.

he coated your hair with tears. “i know. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” he whimpered.

you didn’t respond. just laid there, quiet tears feeling like droplets of blood as they hit the sheets.

maybe you were an idiot to admit that been back in his arms was comforting. but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t overwhelming.

so, for the rest of the night, you stayed like that. letting his arms tighten every once in a while when you shifted in sleep, still horrified at the thought of losing you.

ᥫ᭡

something in the air had changed between you and coriolanus that night.

whether is was his seemingly heartfelt apology or the way neither of you pulled away from each others touch all night, who knows.

but there was no denying the fresh lightness you both felt when waking up tangled together. of course, your mental wounds still had a long journey yet to heal — and maybe they never will fully. he knew that, and from his words and the way he was staring at you right now told you he would help in anyway possible.

that didn’t mean everything was sunshine and rainbows, no. a sincere apology wasn’t going to erase all the torment you had endured — nor was it going to allow him to go back to how he used to treat you.

over the past few days, it almost felt like things had gone back to normal. almost.

sure, you still hadn’t kissed yet, and he hadn’t uttered another word about what he had done after a couple days.

but suddenly you didn’t dread the thought of him coming home, dinners weren’t unbearable — in fact, he even waited until you were finished to leave the table. usually it was the other way round.

the end of your day began feeling like the beginning, what with this little routine you and coriolanus had formed. every night, after dinner, you both would get ready for bed together. no interruptions, no standards, just the two of you in your own little world. it quickly became the highlight of your day.

tonight was a particularly special night.

your routinely procedure had been scheduled earlier it seems, with the time being 6pm and the shower already raining down onto the bathroom tiles.

“do you think i should wear the blue or red dress this evening, coryo?” you called out from your dressing room.

“both would look amazing on you. but red, i think, would suit you perfectly.” he replied from the steamy bathroom, his deep voice not needing to raise to echo off the walls.

you smiled at his choice, nodding as if he could see you.

holding the pretty crimson dress in front of your full-length mirror, you couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. as if you were 19 again, getting ready for your first date with coriolanus.

it might as well be your first date all over again, with your freshly mended marriage. coryo had proposed an evening out at one of the finest restaurants in the capitol, all booked out for you of course. you had smiled and agreed, as if you weren’t buzzing with excitement at getting dressed up for an event you were actually looking forward to.

whilst you applied mascara, coriolanus walked in, wrapped in a towel. he had lost some weight during the past few weeks, yet his muscles were still rather prominent. you never commented on this observation.

“you look…” he let out a deep breath, struck by your pure beauty.

rolling your eyes playfully, you nodded towards the newly bought suit laid on your bed. he insisted on buying you clothes, yet that didn’t mean you couldn’t return the favour. even if it was with his money.

a chuckle was heard from him, “darling, you didn’t need to.”

“you don’t like it?” you tilted your head, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

he shook his head immediately. “no, no, i love it. thank you, i didn’t think buying suits for me was on your mind. you’ve seen how many i own.”

“you’ve seen how many dresses i own, too. yet you still continue to buy me more.” you retorted. he smiled fondly, turning around and placing his hands on your waist.

your eyes met, the light banter turning into something deeper. the strain in his piercing blues was evident, and you knew what he was preventing himself from doing.

preventing himself from smashing his lips onto yours, taking what’s his and showing you just how gorgeous you are right now.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave that just about now.

but kissing was a big step to cross, at least for you. maybe he didn’t see it — but even his hand grazing along your neck made your heart race.

if you were being honest, you’d say it wasn’t him kissing you that made your anxiety spark. it was not knowing how you’d react that scared you. what if you despised the feeling of his lips on yours, and all of this progress so far was for nothing. or what if you were just overthinking it and the more physical contact, the more closer you both got.

either way, your view on it was black and white. it was a miracle or a train wreck. you didn’t want to risk the chances.

so, you stepped back, pulling yourself out of your shared trance, smoothing your hands over your dress. you tried to divert the conversation, hoping he’ll follow. “what time is the car coming?”

he cleared his throat, luckily catching on to what you were trying to do. “30 minutes now. i’ll get changed, wait for me in the living room.”

that wasn’t a question; you of all people would recognise. you nodded, giving him a small smile and leaving the room.

even if things had… adapted in your relationship, coriolanus’ knack for commanding didn’t waver at times. not all of his habits had been set in stone, though coriolanus was a naturally controlling man and nothing would change that.

ᥫ᭡

clutching onto coryo’s hand, you giggled as you walked out of the restaurant. your laughter was fuelled by the pure joy of the night you’ve had — and maybe the couple glasses of wine you drank. coriolanus had made sure you watched how much you poured, so maybe you were a little tipsy.

being drunk would remind you of that night, and that was awful to think about. good thing this night had made you ecstatic.

“thank you for this, coryo. you always know how to make me smile.”

now it was his turn to laugh, stopping you both to stand in front of the fancy building you emerged from. “so do you, my love.”

it was almost as if the stars aligned exactly for this moment, the deep black sky littered with white dots of glimmer. the moon shone proudly down onto you both, his tall figure exaggerated as he towered above you.

your hands went up, his once neat, gelled hair now slightly messy, showing off his curls more. distracted by taming his hair, you didn’t realise how profoundly he was admiring your face, his pacific eyes roaming over your features. taking in his beautiful wife.

your eyes met his. you nearly blushed. “what?”

he didn’t reply.

deep, deep yearning was the only way to describe the look on his face right now. you batted your eyelashes up at him, oblivious to the unrequited love he was silently expressing.

maybe looks weren’t enough.

he leaned forward, gently capturing your lips with his.

at first, you were completely taken aback. but with his hands resting on your hips and the small patter of rain beginning to fall above you, you couldn’t help but fall into his touch, kissing him back just as tenderly.

a mix of relief, desire, and slight hesitance laced the kiss. it wasn’t like anything you had predicted — no, it was nearly perfect. you could tell he didn’t want to hurt you, and the usual hunger and lust which poisoned your kisses before had died down.

you broke the kiss when the sound of the car pulled up. you couldn’t be happier that was the only reason.

your foreheads rested against each other for a moment as you caught your breath, not caring about the droplets of rain coating your hair. coryo’s hand came up to your cheek.

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he murmured, taking your hand and walking towards the car.

the ride home was somewhat healing in itself.

no longer sitting the furthest distance from one another, his hand snaked around your waist as your head rested on his shoulder.

no radio silence filling the car awkwardly, now it was filled with light teasing and small reassurances.

“did you enjoy tonight?” his voice was low, right by your ear yet strangely soothing. you sleepily nodded, feeling your limbs relax. he leaned back against the leather seats and pulled you closer, your head resting on his chest.

the last thing you heard before slumber took you was, “go to sleep, my sweet girl. i’ll wake you when we arrive.”

ᥫ᭡

shifting lazily in your drowsiness, you cracked your eyes open, expecting to be met with your husband’s voice telling you you’re home. instead, you were met with the sound of the tap running in the bathroom and the sight of your silky sheets.

“coryo?” you croaked out, still practically half asleep.

rubbing your eyes and reluctantly getting out of bed, you walked over to your nightgown set on the armchair in the corner. he must’ve laid out some pyjamas for you. part of you wished he would’ve dressed you himself.

taking off your tightly clasped bra, you pulled the silky gown over yourself and walked into the bathroom, greeted by the sight of your shirtless husband brushing his teeth.

he spat out the toothpaste into the sink once he saw you. walking over, he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“how did i get upstairs?” you questioned, voice delicate.

“i brought you up.” he mumbled simply, leaning down to bury his nose into your hair. he was tired too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“you carried me?”

he nodded, pulling away slightly. “is that okay?”

you didn’t reply. it wasn’t for the wrong reasons, but you couldn’t help just staring at him, almost dumbfounded.

who was this coryo who carried you to bed when you fell asleep? who knew, but you desperately didn’t want him to leave.

if you could see yourself now a mere few weeks ago, hell, maybe even 6 months ago, you wouldn’t of believed it. it was almost too good to be true.

maybe it was just the small wine intake taking over that brought you to tears. it sure surprised you, as it did for coriolanus.

“oh, oh darling. c’mere.” his concerned tone only made you cry even more. little did he know it was happy tears. he pulled you into his strong chest, like he was protecting you from the rest of the world. “what’s the matter?”

“i just-…” you blubbered, flinging your arms around him.

“breathe, sweetheart. talk to m—” his words were abruptly interrupted by you reaching up and kissing him vehemently.

he was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly found the rhythm and kissed back with just as much passion. his hand went to the back of your head, fingers holding you firmly.

the once deep, emotional kiss you had initiated gradually turned into something softer, slower. your hand rested on his jaw, feeling how your mouths moved meticulously against each other.

the motivation for suddenly catching his lips with yours was unbeknownst to you. whether it was the overwhelmingly strong realisation that coriolanus snow had changed for the better, or the unadulterated gratefulness you felt for the Gods above that they had freed you from your torment, who knows. all you knew was that the nostalgic craving of having his lips on yours was back: more than just a longing memory.

pulling away, you both let out a breath of air. your lips were tainted with colour from his own, cheeks flushed from his heavy breathing.

a breathless chuckle left you both at the same time, and his hands slid to the back of your thighs, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing and walking into the bedroom.

ᥫ᭡ the next morning

coriolanus was entranced by the old sight of your hair splayed across your pillows, lips slightly parted as your legs tangled with his. it was times like this that kept him going.

your eyes opened after a few more minutes, a small yawn escaping your throat as you stretched. coryo leaned forward and placed a small kiss on your temple.

the ruffled pile of your nightgown laying at the bottom of your bed used to be a telltale sign that you and coryo had had the time of your lives the night before. mostly coriolanus.

now it wasn’t remotely related to sex.

your nightgown and coryo’s trousers had been ditched last night, simply because the feeling of each other’s warmth was the equivalent to a lullaby. it had coaxed you both to sleep, being completely enclosed in one another all night. it felt like a fairytale.

“what’s going on in that little head of yours?” coriolanus smirked. you smiled, moving to place your head on top of his bicep.

“just… how much we’ve changed.” you admitted.

his relaxed demeanour slightly shifted at the topic of how they were in the past. he nodded. “go on.”

“i wouldn’t imagine us like this a few weeks ago,” you continued, “it all just feels crazy.”

“in a good way, i hope.” he tilted his head.

“definitely in a good way. i prefer it like this. no arguments, no standards, no… rules.”

he chuckled at that last word. “rules?”

you giggled, cheeks heating at your choice of words. “yeah, your orders, i don’t know.”

he shook his head with a fond smile. you knew he felt guilty about the ordeal, but still being in the presence of the president, your husband, made you feel a little stupid at times.

he pulled you closer, lips brushing against yours. “so no more rules?”

“no more rules.”

ᥫ᭡ end.

eee so happy i finished this! sorry for the late post, severe case of writers block has been on and off for days 💔 hopefully this healed u from part i, it sure did for me :)

[cervvsq]

Hey, just wondering, when would be be getting part 2 ro rules? Not trying to rush you, and please take your time. I was just wondering if we could get a release date. Sorry if this comes off sounding rude. Also, I love your work so much <3

hii! no worries, this isn’t rude at all. i’m sorry for leaving it so long, my writers block is SO unpredictable at times. but funnily enough i wrote over half of it last night, just need to make a few edits and it’ll be finished.

i’m not sure if i can give a definite date of the release, but it’ll be posted within a week for sure. your hearts will be healed soon, i promise :,)

[cervvsq]

bandages.

inspired by ‘fate is cruel’ by @slaymitchabernathy !

summary: issues between you and coriolanus cause a failed suicide attempt to occur.

WARNINGS: suicidal thoughts, major mental heath issues, sharp objects, self harm, silent treatment, manipulation, abuse, speaks about sex but no actual smut, reader is described as his “dumb, little wife”, reader always forgives him, lots of angst today :(

no use of y/n // no name for reader.

masterlist

“…yes, and, no sharp objects around her for a good while…”

“…when the time is right, she may be able to leave the mansion. until then…”

“…take me for a fool, festus? of course i’ve made sure no one finds out about this. it’s already been a great embarrassment between me and those who know.”

the hushed voices of your husband and his colleagues through his large oak door made your heart sink. whether it was out of shame, pain, or anger was beyond you.

pulling the sleeves of your silky nightgown over your wrists, you took one last deep breath and knocked once on the door. like always, it was small. gentle. that’s who you were perceived as anyway. surprisingly, it was hard to be confident and loud when you were married to the most powerful man in panem — especially around his associates. being anything other than the perfect capitol lady was a disgrace to society.

whatever conversation they were having shut down immediately, a few throats clearing as coriolanus’ deep voice gave you permission to walk in. you ignored the uneasy thrill of your heart racing when all eyes of older men were on you, in a small yet beautiful nightgown, usually only for your husbands eyes in your home house. it was strange for him to have this many people here at this time, even in the president’s office.

but many things were strange lately. ever since—

“darling?” that familiar voice ripped you out of your thoughts, and you nearly sunk into the floor when the look on the men’s faces had suddenly switched to pity. blinking a few times, you perked your head up to listen.

“i asked if you were alright.” he smiled gently.

“of course. my apologies for the interruption — i hadn’t realised you were busy.” you lifted a delicate hand to brush your luscious hair from your freshly-washed face. this small act caused your loose sleeve to slip from your wrist, causing everyone’s eyes to rip away from you faster than they looked.

apart from your husband’s.

his chiseled jaw clenched for a moment, staring intensely. realising your mistake, you immediately dropped your hand, eyes locking on the floor. suddenly, it felt like you were 5 years old getting scolded in front of your father’s friends.

feeling your whole body suddenly become boiling hot from embarrassment, you refrained the urge to run out the room.

“it’s no bother. what do you need?” you couldn’t even answer before the sound of your husband’s chair scraping across the floor rang in your ears, telling you everything you needed to know. his hand was on your cheek, coaxing you to look up at him. once you complied, he leaned forward, lips by your ear. you avoided looking at all these unknown faces whilst coriolanus murmured words out of earshot to anyone but you.

“give me twenty minutes for me to sort some things, and i’m all yours, i promise. you need rest, i’ll get someone to escort you back to our room.” his words were meant to be reassuring, but they only made you feel sick. you didn’t need someone to escort you to another room in your own fucking house.

biting back the tempting dare to shout, ‘i’m not a fucking child!’ in his face, you simply gave him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, letting him kiss you on the cheek. he guided you back to the grand oak doors of his office, hand on your lower back for only a few moments before he shut the door as soon as you stepped out.

ᥫ᭡

silent tears felt like knifes as they slid down your angelic face.

with shaky hands, you pulled your sleeve down.

it took all your strength not to scream and bawl at the sight you had to face every night and morning now.

the bandages.

layers of thin, white, woven cotton wrapped around your dainty wrists, a harsh contrast to your smooth skin. the reminder of what you had done haunted you every second of every day.

but it wasn’t the concealment of your wrist that tormented you. it was what held beneath it that really made you crawl. not just the slash — but the memory of that night.

ᥫ᭡

3 weeks earlier…

“…just once, just once, maybe i thought you could be an adult. to be a proper wife, but you can’t even do that. no, really, what can you fucking do, hm?”

your eyes had gotten used to the familiar burn of your tears. the embarrassment grew every time. he always knew what to say to bring you to this state. sat at the end of your large shared bed, sobs strained your raspy throat, you squeezed your eyes shut to block out his harsh words.

it clearly was the end of the world to him, what you had done. you had “ruined your body,” he had spat earlier.

you couldn’t bear to look down at the 4 pink scars on each of your upper thighs. you were an idiot for thinking he wouldn’t notice. why wouldn’t he? after the arguments, after the name-calling, after the gaslighting, it was always the same. he fucked you all night, whispered pleasure-filled ‘apologies’ and left you to wake up to an empty bed and not see any sign of him until 7pm when he would return from work.

“your words really hurt me sometimes, coriolanus…” you choked out. he was so angry, veins bulging from his neck, hair a large contrast to how neat it usually is. he let out a bitter laugh. “my words?”

“do you know how silly your little act is?” he reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. the tight grip he had on you didn’t match his sudden calm tone.

“this is what mentally unstable people do, darling. are you unstable? did i marry a crazy person?” he taunted, tilting his head patronisingly. it surely coaxed the reaction he wanted.

a few more tears fell down your flushed face, and you tried shaking your head. “no, no, i’m not crazy, coryo… i’m sorry, i won’t do it again!”

“oh, baby, don’t cry. i know you won’t. i’ll make sure of that.” his hand loosened in your hair, stroking it softly. his words settled you down a little more, oblivious of what was to come.

you lowered your head, leaning forward to press your forehead against his abdomen as he stood above you. still comprehending the whole situation, hectic hitches of your breath escaped your lips and shook your shoulders.

“you know i love you, my sweet girl. it pains me greatly that you’re this stupid sometimes.” his stinging words sounded gentle, so you didn’t pay any mind. you were just coriolanus’ dumb, little wife anyway.

when you didn’t respond, he pulled your hair again, eliciting a strangled mewl. “i know, i love you too..!” you cried out. he nodded, moving his hand down to your cheek.

“are you going to disappoint me again?” he took your chin firmly and shook your head left and right. satisfied, almost amused, a smirk curled on those lips. the same lips of his that can spew the most vile words, and all the more loving ones.

ᥫ᭡

the next morning

waking up, you felt light as a feather whilst the morning light poured through the tall curtains. like usual, coriolanus was probably already at work.

after a night of sex, promises, and praises, it seemed your husband had gotten over your self-harm silly mistake! oh, how clueless you were.

when you walked into your large closet, it felt like you had been shot.

it was all gone.

all your glamorous dresses, expensive shoes, beautiful jewellery.

empty. your side of the space you cherished the most in your house was completely desolate.

breaking down in tears, you ran into the bathroom to your vanity.

also barren.

the only thing displayed on your once packed beauty area was some moisturiser and a toothbrush.

after 10 minutes of crying your heart out on the bathroom floor, you got up and opened your bedroom door, determined to belt coryo’s workplace out until his secretary answered and put you on the phone to him.

two peacekeepers stepped in front of you. before you could open your mouth, one of them recited their orders.

“apologies, mrs snow. you may not leave this area. orders of president snow.”

you could punch one of these men right now.

raising your eyebrows, you gaped at his words. “excuse me? this is my own house!”

they shook their heads. “apologies, ma’am. orders of president snow.”

feeling your eyes begin to sting, you turned around, closing the door and collapsing onto the bed, curling up into a fetal position whilst you cried.

you were stuck here.

when the clock hit 8, you were still in the same position you were in when you laid down. never did any staff bring food, or drinks — so you kept yourself occupied with 2 things. cry. sleep. cry. sleep. not moving once.

not even when your husband’s voice was heard muffled outside the door, probably talking to the peacekeepers. or you. you didn’t care anymore.

the door opened. only a sigh was heard, followed by footsteps.

“sweetheart?” the name only caused your heart to clench. more so when a hand landed on your shoulder. you didn’t move. “what’s wrong?”

this caused your jaw to tighten and your eyes narrow. spinning around, tears already streamed down your cheeks.

“what’s wrong is you locked me in here! all day!” you shouted in his face. “and all of my belongings are gone! you took them from me! you’re fucking evil—!”

his caring act snapped, grabbing you by the neck and forcing you down onto the bed. the livid, animalistic look in his eye was something you’ll never forget. he breathed deeply, heavily, closing his eyes as if to calm himself down. lucky for him — barely any air could leave your lungs right now. but he made sure you heard him clearer than you could breathe.

“and clearly, you haven’t learned your lesson. just when i thought you couldn’t get more dense. get up.” he spat the last two words, releasing his large hand around your neck.

spluttering, you gasped a few times, standing up and wincing when he grabbed your wrist tightly. leading you down the hallway, he spoke as you tried to catch up.

“you told me last night it was my words that caused you to hurt yourself.” he scoffed, continuing to drag you along.

he stopped you both in front of a room you hadn’t even been in before, despite living here nearly a year now. “and the clothes, well, i can’t have anyone knowing about your little vice.” he chuckled, as if this was funny at all. “you will get your clothes handed to you when needed.”

you wearily eyed the door in front of you. “what are you doing?”

he sighed. “since my words affect you so much,” he mocked, “i figure it must come to me not speaking to you whatsoever. maybe that will put an end to these games you insist on playing.” he opened the door.

“enjoy your new room.”

ᥫ᭡

2 weeks later

“please, please, coriolanus! i’m sorry! please just talk to me!” you bawled, on your knees in front of him whilst he sat at his desk, skimming over some documents.

he paid you no mind.

no attention, not even a glance.

it didn’t matter how much you screamed, called him names, insulted him, whatever. he didn’t acknowledge you.

you were given dresses by maids whenever there was a dinner or gala you both needed to attend. even then he didn’t speak directly to you, only referring you in conversation with others when necessary.

sometimes you threw up from how much you weeped.

coriolanus was all you knew. despite his behaviour towards you at times, his affection and care fuelled you endlessly. no matter how many times he laid his hands on you, his praises, his touch, was like a million apologies. he broke you repeatedly, then healed you once more. you’d rather have him beat you up and take care of your bruises than this.

for 2 weeks now, he hadn’t laid eyes on you, never mind touched. if he wanted a message across about plans for the week, he got his staff to do it.

there were no more dinners, no more kisses, no more scolding, nothing.

you weren’t permitted out of your room once it hit 7pm. that was the rule all the way to 7am. it ensured you didn’t try to leave, is what the peacekeepers said. you had a feeling it was so you didn’t bother their dear president. the man who was meant to be your devoting husband.

your bathroom was empty apart from a toilet, mirror, toothpaste, and a brush. sure, the intricate design was luxurious, but every room in the presidential mansion had to be spot on. even if you were basically being kept prisoner in it.

the only clothes in your closet were pyjamas and slippers. any fancy clothing were brought to you when needed. you found yourself wondering if coriolanus picked out the dresses.

you were invisible.

so now, as you begged for the 3rd time today for him to give any sign he gave a shit about you, you felt yourself reaching your breaking point. it was his and the staff’s day off, you weren’t missing this opportunity to try fix things. it was going nowhere.

you didn’t even exist in your own house anymore.

standing up, you walked out, leaving his study door open. the tears once pouring down your rosy cheeks had stopped. you almost felt dizzy.

walking into the room which you and coryo once shared, you walked into your his bathroom. top left drawer. that’s where he always went to shave.

when you used to get ready for bed together.

when he would tease you about how seriously you took your skincare routine.

when he would come up behind you and place kisses on your neck.

when you would stand on your tip-toes to shave his face for him.

that felt like years ago.

and suddenly, before you could stop yourself, you were reaching for the spare blades in the packet, taking one out.

you were like a ghost to him now anyway. he was a ghost to you now, too. a ghost of who he was. who was he now? and where did he go?

too much. it was all too much.

with one smooth slash, the blade ran across your vein. just above your pulse. then the other. slash. it was only when the clatter of the blade dropped onto the marble floor, followed by droplets of pure red when the gravity of the situation settled.

what the fuck?

what did i do?

“what did you do?!” coriolanus yelled. his voice never sounded so urgent. turning your head, the last thing you felt was his hand slipping under you, lifting you up before you fainted.

ᥫ᭡

present time.

ever since then, it was like nothing happened. things went back to normal. well, not completely, of course.

it had been exactly a week and a half since the incident, and coryo had put many things in place to ensure your health and safety was protected.

his razors were now locked up.

all jewellery only he got for you, to make sure there were no sharp edges.

no access to the kitchen without any company.

your bandages were changed every other day.

you had to see a doctor every day to check and treat the deep wound.

but no amount of antibiotics and bandages could soothe the mental wounds.

only coriolanus could.

but all of these restricts set in place didn’t bother you. why? because you had gotten him back.

you had moved back into your shared bedroom.

most of your dresses were back.

he spoke to you gently.

he caressed you, he kissed you, he treated you like a porcelain doll.

there was no apology for practically locking you up. you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

after all, you got your coryo back.

even if all these precautions and pitying eyes from the very few people who know do tick you off at times, you would choose this life any day over the one you had when he was so vile to you.

finished crying, you stared at yourself in your vanity mirror. he kept his promise. the door opened, and his lips tugged into a smile when he saw you. walking over, he leaned down and kissed your cheek. “i’m sorry for their prying eyes. how are you feeling?”

you shook your head, dismissing his apology. you hated any references to your attempt. “i’m okay.” you smiled.

coriolanus intertwined his hand with yours, pulling you up from your vanity stool. “my sweet girl.” he murmured, leading you over to the bed.

you laid down, and he hovered above you, his arms wrapping around your small frame. “never do something like that again, please.” he spoke into your hair.

you held your breath.

“i won’t.” you whispered. so delicate, so pure.

shame it was a lie.

as much as you didn’t like lying to him, you couldn’t help it. telling the truth would only make things complicated.

but it was true. you’d do it again and again if it meant you could have this coryo forever. and you’ll be sure to prove it if he ever dared to change again.

ᥫ᭡

oneshot!

[cervvsq]

do we want a happy, healed ending to rules…

or more uncomfortable, you-being-traumatised-from-coryo type ending 🙃

or both versions posted separately ?? 👀

coming back in a week !!!

[cervvsq]

unspoken.

summary: lots of things slip under the rug in you and coriolanus’ marriage. however, the hard truth hits when you unmask something which ultimately changes your whole perception of your dear husband.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex but no ACTUAL smut, we got the nonchalant version of this dude today !

you wouldn’t really say you and coriolanus’ marriage was dreadful. you decided to ignore the bitter taste the word ‘marriage’ lingered on your tongue every time it left your lips.

it was just… uncomfortable. at times. no, that wasn’t true. was it? he was a great husband. he bought you great things. he spoke greatly about you. it was a great marriage.

you supposed.

yes, all of your needs were met. anything you wanted, you got. ‘budget’ was a word that made coriolanus laugh. any of the snow’s, really. not surprising when you were married to the head of the richest family in panem. best known as president snow.

you didn’t expect your marriage to be a loving one. no one really did anymore, not with how things were run in the capitol. especially high status families — the elites. the highest class you could possibly be throughout panem.

nearly every family within this social position had already been betrothed from the moment they were born, whether the child knew it or not. always married off to a wealthy (or wealthier) family, ensuring the near-perfect match every time.

some found love. most didn’t. you didn’t expect your future husband to be like the men in your secret romance novels your mother always scolded you for reading during your teenage years.

after all, everything at the end of the day was mainly for appearances. reputation. your place in society. that was, undoubtedly, the most important thing. it determined your entire life, impacted your future children, and so on.

despite the burning pressure you endured to be the picture perfect capitol lady, you often found yourself cooped up in your home manors library, skimming the shelves for the next swoon-worthy novel hiding amongst the untouched spines.

looking back, it was foolish for a young lady like yourself to ever imagine your adulthood being remotely like those “silly clichés”. you never thought much of it at the time, seeing your favourite hobby only as something to entertain yourself with.

of course, your academy days came to an end, your etiquette training becoming more useful as you attended multiple galas and conferences due to your father’s popularity. fortunately for your mother, you grew out of your “bad habit”, and your focuses remained on being the perfect wife for your new fiancé —

coriolanus snow.

ꨄ

it seems your lessons paid off well, because before you knew it, you weren’t known by your name anymore. no, you were now the first lady of panem. in other words, — people’s favourite it seemed — coriolanus snow’s wife.

you quickly learned that your husband was a very private man. sure, you knew what cologne he wore every day. you knew which silk gowns he liked and which he didn’t. you knew his favourite positions to fuck you in, which also told you what kind of day he had.

sometimes you found yourself wishing you didn’t determine your husband’s mood depending on how he fucked you. you wanted to ask him how it was and be met with a real answer other than “fine, darling.”

but neither of you… well, talked.

genuine conversations were obscure in your strange relationship. actually, that was an understatement. it never happened.

the only time you both shared some somewhat meaningful words was during sex, which felt almost transactional in a way. there was nothing wrong with his body, god no. even if he had a busy schedule nearly every day, he sure knew how to take care of himself. and so did you.

in public, no one had any clue about this predicament. you both played the part well. but as soon as those large, oak penthouse doors of his shut — the touches, the chuckles, hell, even the fucking smiles — were gone. as if he hadn’t had his hand on your lower back or wrapped around your waist the entire evening whilst chatting to his fellow capitol ‘friends’ and their wives.

ꨄ

the pattern of the water hitting the expensive tiles was muffled behind the door which lead to your grand bathroom. you sat at your vanity, softly combing your hair as you waited for your husband to finish his shower. it was an unspoken rule that you didn’t go to bed until he did. you often found yourself wondering if it went both ways; but you would never know.

it was always you waiting for him, after all.

coriolanus emerged from the bathroom door, not sparing you a glance as he ran a hand through his damp hair. despite seeing every inch of each other’s bodies countless times during intercourse, you never got changed in front of the other. it felt like you were strangers. sometimes. you pushed that thought away.

no words whatsoever were said as you both settled in bed. no goodnight kiss, no touching, no speaking. just pure silence. you don’t know why you’re surprised. it had been this exact routine for 5 months now, and you must bring yourself to realise that it will be like this forever.

ꨄ

coriolanus was late. again. for the third time this week. not just an hour or so late, you found yourself staring at the crackling fireplace until 1am.

the doors opened. you barely heard the click when it closed. he was trying to be quiet. you nearly scoffed; as if you were oblivious to the late hour.

coriolanus walked through the large archway which lead to the spacious sitting area you were sat at. he nearly sighed. nearly.

instead, he simply walked straight past you, to the doors of your bedroom. before he slipped away, you spoke.

“where have you been?”

your tone was on edge. almost accusatory.

coriolanus paused. he was caught off guard by your sudden behaviour, along with your underlying anger.

“work.” he simply stated, his voice cold and nonchalant.

frustration began bubbling within you. your perfectly manicured nails dug into your palms. your ‘perfect husband’ was getting on your nerves now. your ‘perfect marriage’ was about to make you reach your breaking point sooner or later.

his workplace closed three hours ago.

instead of getting up and screaming at him, demanding to know where he’s been, that you’re his wife and shouldn’t be treated like a business partner — you simply bit your tongue, turning around and giving him a sweet smile. “okay.”

he didn’t return the smile, just a nod before walking into your bedroom, seemingly unfazed by your encounter. your eyes followed him the whole way, your fake smile dropping immediately when the doors shut.

ꨄ

you had become sick of your husband’s new late night antics, whatever he was fucking doing out there. you had convinced yourself you didn’t care, that this marriage was nothing but a show to make everyone else happy anyway, but it still… had an impact, you liked to call it.

whilst you were lounging in the same damn spot you always stayed waiting for him, always waiting, your mind started to drift to yourself only a mere few years ago. when you were still a naive teenager suiting up to the expected behaviours of a woman.

instead of curled up on his sofa waiting for your cold, closed-off husband to come home and give you a shitty excuse as to why he was late, you were curled up on your sofa with your head buried in a romance book, butterflies going crazy in your stomach at words on a page. dreaming about experiencing those heart-warming moments.

if she saw you now she’d bawl her eyes out and beg her mother not to marry her off. even if it was useless — you had realised by now you had belonged to coriolanus snow the moment you were able to walk.

it was only a few more minutes reminiscing about your past pursuit in the pages before you were walking down one of the many hallways in your shared penthouse.

straight to the library.

you wondered when was the last time you had been in here. or coriolanus, for that matter. probably not in a good year, he was always too busy for any leisure activities like reading for pleasure and not power.

strolling past the tall, wood bookshelves filled to the brim with all different kinds of genres, you decided to stop at the romance section. well, it was something like romance. whatever the interior designer picked for this shelf, anyway. to them, it didn’t really matter as long at it was filled with books.

after all, everything at the end of the day was mainly for appearances.

your eyes landed on a somewhat interesting looking novel, with a small amount of paper sticking out the top. you slid the book off of the shelf, eyeing the piece of paper curiously.

nothing could compare to the heart drop when you saw the contents it held.

dear my love,

words can’t explain how much these nights have meant to me. seeing you has truly become the highlight of my day. i will be careful sending this letter, i wouldn’t want it to get in the wrong hands. it pains me we have to hide our love — hopefully one day we can really be together. i’ve been thinking about your confession recently, and i want you to know i love you too. so much, coriolanus. i pray for the day we can finally have all the time in the world to ourselves. ;)

- L.C

L.C.

L.C L.C L.C. L.C L.C L.C.

you recognised those initials.

livia fucking cardew.

the sound of your penthouse doors opening, the sound of his briefcase being placed on the floor, his footsteps trailing to wherever the fuck he’s going after he’s been fucking that homewrecking whore, only spurred your anger on.

clutching the now wrinkled parchment in your clenched fingers, you revelled in the adrenaline of your rage-filled mind, coming up with every way under the sun to get some sort of malevolent retaliation.

go out there. rip the letter in pieces right in front of that unfaithful, power-hungry, unloyal, greedy—

you stopped.

realisation settled in.

it wouldn’t matter what reaction you had. it wouldn’t matter if you tore the house up. it wouldn’t matter if you slapped him across the face for treating you like this.

he wouldn’t care.

maybe if he had a single ounce of regard towards you, mindfulness for something other than his god-forsaken image, he would give a slight fuck.

but he didn’t.

and he never would, no matter what way you expressed your emotions.

no matter how many sweet smiles, no matter how many late nights, no matter how many soft kisses, no matter how many times you would let him fuck you whenever he pleased,

it would never be enough.

maybe livia was enough.

maybe livia knew his favourite colour, his genuine laugh, hear the words “i love you,” fall from his lips.

you could never be worthy enough to him for anything other than a good appearance in public. a pretty, young lady by his side whilst he does whatever he pleases.

you could never be livia.

and so, back in the bookshelf the letter went, ready, waiting for whenever coriolanus wanted a reminder of his real true love.

ꨄ

oneshot!

[cervvsq]

rules.

18+ — MDNI.

part ii

president!coryo x firstlady!reader

summary: you disobey one of coryo’s rules, and the punishment goes too far.

WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat, rape, somnophilia, spanking, p in v, alcohol use, hair pulling, ANGST. any more lmk! please READ AT OWN RISK.

masterlist

coriolanus was an extremely ambitious man. he was calculated, authoritative, and knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. no wonder he made such a powerful president.

so when you came along, he made sure you would fall right into his trap.

coriolanus would like to think he had trained you — trained you to be his perfect, obedient, little wife. a dazzling first lady which had the capitol admiring the two of you. over the past few months of being betrothed to coriolanus — not only had he learned and taught you who you were, how to be — but you had discovered things about him as well. maybe he wouldn’t see it just yet, maybe not ever, but you saw. You saw how he had adjusted to you. your needs. that gave you some sort of comfort as you obeyed all of his needs without complaint.

to any ‘normal person’, you would think, would be absolutely tortured at being ripped away from normal life, to live with an arrogant, narcissistic and (most likely) sadistic man. even if that man was the most handsome, wealthy man in the whole capitol.

so why did you find such pleasure in this involuntary marriage?

maybe it was the soft touches coriolanus would smooth over you whenever he touched you. no, it couldn’t be, because the calm yet threatening words which would leave his lips did not send any sense of comfort throughout you at all. it was always the same message, in different words. “never, ever try to leave me.” would be the warning. the demand. the threat of what would happen if you dared to was not something you would like to find out.

maybe it was the contrast to that. the harsh touches combined with the gentle words. when his fingers would leave deep marks in your hips as he roughly abused your cunt, not stopping even when tears were in your eyes. in fact, that only spurred him on faster to bring you to your climax. it would pain you, his thrusts, his grip, but the words leaving his lips made the raw fucking blissful. no matter what it was. “mm, that’s it. that’s my girl. such a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you?” he would say as another cruel spank would land on your pink ass. “oh, baby…” he would coo into your ear, almost patronising. in fact, it was patronising. getting treated like a child every single day but still being expected to live up to his pathetic rules. but all frustration would be seeped out of you by the end of the night.

whatever it was that lingered a growing fondness for whatever was between you — you didn’t want it to end.

it was so frustrating to admit at first, but there was no denying — even in his sick, twisted ways — coriolanus was a good husband. no wonder you had grown to like this life, you would tell yourself. coriolanus would constantly shower you with riches.

whether it was expensive, rare, or near impossible to get, coriolanus would command every one of his workers to search the entire planet if they have to, to get what you wanted. only on one condition, though: never leave him.

you learned this a couple weeks ago. and oh, how coriolanus made you remember.

it was at the dinner just before the important gala, and wealthy husbands with their cheap wives were all sat surrounding the table in coriolanus’ manor. you recognised no one, but had taken quite a liking to the wife of felix ravenstill. a man coriolanus disliked heavily — but anyone would chop their left arm off to have some sort of connections with the president.

that was one strike, anyway — associating with someone who coriolanus did not give permission to. you knew this when you felt coriolanus’ hand tighten on your thigh when you smiled gracefully at felix.

the second was when you and felix’s wife began to converse. specifically about something coriolanus did not care for — vacations. to him, vacations were useless and a waste of stress. “why leave the place where you already have anything and everything you need?” he would say to you whenever you asked. but you knew the real reason was because the risk of losing you if you travelled anywhere else was higher.

mrs. ravenstill laughed heartily at a comment you made. “oh, you should join me! i’m going travelling out of panem soon, whilst my husband is dealing with work. it would be a delight to have you there, mrs snow.”

you didn’t catch the way coriolanus’ jaw clenched, the way his eyes were staring daggers into the woman’s unknowing face. the way he had stranded his conversation mid way as soon as he heard those words directed towards you. the audacity that woman had to try and take you from him. his knuckles were as white as his last name, and your response sent sizzling rage through him.

oblivious of your husbands bubbling anger, you simply nodded and smiled wider. “that would be wonderfu--“

“unfortunately, my wife and i have many plans over the next few weeks. my apologies.” snow cut in, speaking over you as if you weren’t there. no one batted an eye to this, and if they did, nobody on the planet would think to correct the president.

your heart dropped faster than you could process. you knew that tone. you knew that seething look in his eyes. you knew all too well of the painful grip on your thigh underneath the table. shit. fuckfuckfuck. how could you be this stupid? your expression fell cold as you dreaded what was going to happen once everyone left.

swallowing down the fear hollowing your entire body, you smiled, but this time it didn’t reach your eyes. not able to get your words out, you nodded, taking a shaky sip of your wine which lasted a little longer than usual.

after the slow, agonising hour left of the dinner, the time finally came. by then, you had already drank 3 glasses of wine, and saying you were tipsy was an understatement. you would most likely be in trouble for that too, but you didn’t care at this point.

as soon as the last person left the grand double doors, coriolanus grabbed you and pinned you against the wall so harshly your head slammed against it. you were internally thankful for that alcohol you had drank, otherwise you most likely would’ve already been shuddering in pain. but all you did was giggle as he glared down at you, your head leaning forward to rest against his chest drunkenly.

“lift your fucking head up when i speak to you.” he growled, his voice on an edge. it was clear he wasn’t playing these silly games.

you mumbled incoherently, which angered him further. without warning, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and ragged your head up to look at him, his jaw ticking with the way your pupils were dilated and the lazy smile on your parted lips. it was clear your drunken state found this all very amusing.

“fuck..” coriolanus cursed under his breath as he saw your behaviour. he was a smart man. he knew whatever he said or did to punish you for tonight, it wouldn’t mean anything. you would simply wake up with a sore body (and a red ass), not learnt anything. and even if seeing you bent over his knee, whimpers and mewls leaving your throat as his hand came down repeatedly onto you does get him off, the point was so you learn. so you learn not to make a fucking fool of the president as his dutiful wife. so you learn who exactly is in charge.

throwing you over his shoulder, earning another slurred giggle from you, he walked upstairs.

you don’t remember anything after that.

the last thing you remember of that night haunted you up until this day.

you remember waking up, head all hazy and body internally screaming with fight or flight response. confused, and barely able to form a thought, you opened your eyes.

you vividly remember coriolanus on top of you, his rough hand firmly pressing against your neck as he pounded into you relentlessly. he seemed to not have realised you had become conscious, because his head was still thrown back, groans and grunts escaping his throat. fear rattled through your squirming body. flashes of him on top of you came peering through your vision in between the black spots as you slowly felt yourself losing consciousness again. you couldn’t breathe. the closer he got to his climax, the tighter his hand was around your neck.

somehow, you managed to gather up all the remaining strength you had, sinking your teeth into his shoulder harshly. this must’ve caught him off guard, as the last thing you heard was his loud grunt of pain before you passed out again.

he had raped you.

hehadrapedyouhehadrapedyouhehadrapedyouhehadrapedyouhehadrapedyou.

that was an ongoing loop throughout your mind. a broken radio, incessant, timeless. you woke up to him cradling you in his arms, and you immediately felt sick. but you didn’t dare move — your body wouldn’t allow you to. and thats when you realised something — something so scarce, so outlandish, it had you doing the same.

coriolanus snow was crying. the president of panem, the man who had killed dozens of people and millions more to come, was crying.

his usual stone cold demeanour had vanished, now replaced with quiet sobs that racked through his body. the constant, “‘m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” ’s that he whispered into your hair. you didn’t say anything. you didn’t move. you didn’t even dare to breathe. this was all so excruciating and unusual, your own cries began coming out and joining his as one.

neither of you mentioned it once.

but you could tell he knew. he knew what he had done, and he knew you knew. and worst of all, the toll it was taking on you was agonising.

a flinch would rack through you whenever his hand brushed over your neck, and God forbid what was going to happen when you two have sex again. neither of you had touched each other sexually since then, only small, gentle kisses and delicate touches.

you hadn’t conversed that you didn’t want him to go back to his old ways — the punishments, the bdsm. but he knew. you both knew.

you could see the effect it was having on coriolanus, too. ever since then, he had been treating you like you were a fragile glass doll, ready to shatter any second.

he spent way more time at work now, yet still made sure your needs were satisfied every 30 minutes. he never once raised his voice or displayed any anger towards you if you accidentally broke one of his precious rules — well, if he was angry, he definitely didn’t show it. but you noticed every little thing. you noticed the eyebags slowly growing underneath his eyes even though he would come to bed the same time as you every night. you noticed when he would come down for dinner with red eyes and ruffled hair. you noticed how, behind his eyes, he was scared every time he touched you.

you noticed how he had bought a whole new bed because he couldn’t bear the thought of what he did to you on the old one.

[cervvsq]

welcome to cervvsq ! ༉‧₊˚✧

navigation

hi! my name is cervvsq, and welcome to my blog. about me ➯ crippling obsession with this freak ^, female, 19! keep in mind this acc is 18+, and please read my warnings before reading any of my work.

this account is in progress, and will mostly be drabbles, oneshots and more of coriolanus snow.

WARNING: a lot of my account will include distressing and explicit themes, some including dead dove do not eat. read at own risk. if i miss a warning on a post, feel free to let me know !

asks + requests r open btw, feel free to voice ur ideas/asks :)))

if you would like to be added to my taglist, please go to this post. thank youuuu

masterlist ⇩

key: ❤︎︎ = smut ❀ = fluff 🝮 = angst ⁂ = dddne

coriolanus snow:

your first time was meant to be magical. right? ❤︎︎ 🝮

follow his rules. or face the consequences. ❤︎︎🝮⁂

⇧part ii 🝮 ❀

the bitter taste of realisation. 🝮

bandages are a harsh reminder of what you’ve done. 🝮

coryo’s coming home!! ❀ ❤︎︎

[cervvsq]

perturbed.

MDNI — 18+ only.

academy!coryo x virgin!reader

summary: you and coryo’s relationship reach a point where you want to try sex for the first time — yet it doesn’t go very well.

warnings: p in v, smut, fingering, implied oral sex (f receiving), fluff, distressing theme, read at own risk.

“coryo!” you giggled, your head which was once thrown back now leaning down to cup his beautiful face up to yours, connecting his pillowy lips back onto yours. “—my parents are gonna be home soon, baby.”

“i don’t care,” he murmured. you smiled as you looked down at him, his lips tugging up into a small smirk as he leant down to place peppery kisses along your jaw, to your neck, to your shoulder.

laying in your cozy bed, legs tangled together, you and your boyfriend pawed at each other. your parents had left home a few hours ago, and could be back any minute. however, coriolanus would never let anything get in the way of having his girl, in his arms, with his lips on her.

his hand gently smoothed down your body, reaching your silk shorts, which fortunately granted easy access for his hungry hand to slip underneath. you whimpered at the feeling of his slender finger sliding ever so slowly up your already damp slit through your thin, lacy underwear. “already soaked for me, dove?” coryo whispered against your lips, before gently pulling your panties aside and pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit. an unsolicited moan left your lips. he pushed one of his fingers in, his thumb still slowly rubbing circles over your clit, causing spasms of pleasure through your body. his finger felt so good pumping in and out of you, and your back arched at his touch, your breasts pressing against his chest. the feeling made his rock-hard cock twitch in his boxers, which you felt against your thigh.

oh.

right.

his cock.

in your whole 5 months of dating, you had never really done anything with his dick. simply always throbbing against you whenever you did this. it was always him fingering you, eating you like his last meal, or rubbing your clit till you were on the brink of orgasm. not like you were complaining, of course — but you had nearly forgotten that he had needs too. you wanted - no, ached - to give him the same amount of pleasure he would grant you nearly every fortnight.

while moans left your lips as you neared your orgasm, your mind was still thinking on how you could repay him back. you could jerk him off? no, he deserved better than that. he probably did it every night anyway. you could suck him off? no, too scary.

your mind couldn’t really think of anything else due to your inexperience and, well, because of the second digit he had shoved in you. your mind landed on the last option you had in your love drunk mind.

sex.

your heart skipped a beat at that. nervousness, anticipation, lust. it wouldn’t be your biggest regret, if you ended up breaking up. you concluded. coryo, in your eyes, was a good, loving, and gentle boyfriend. and man. he took care of his cousin, grandma’am, and you. with a deep breath, you pulled your panting lips away from his.

“wait, coryo,” you murmured, looking up at him. he looked angelic in this moment. he hummed back, his eyes changing to concern at your sudden interruption, scanning your face for any discomfort. “i wanna try something.” you whispered.

“i think…” your voice was a small, delicate tone. your eyes watched your finger begin to trail down his abs slowly, too embarrassed on the inside to be making eye contact at this moment. “i think i’m ready. to… have sex.”

his fingers inside you stilled. pulling out of you, he rested the hand on your waist as he used his other to gently pull your chin up to look at him. you obeyed. the look in his eyes was genuine, a caring, comforting look in them. but you saw, behind the honest blue, the hint of primal hunger in them at the thought of fucking you senseless.

“baby… i… are you sure? 100% sure? you’re not pressured by me, right? don’t think you owe me anything, darling.” he assured you, pushing down the intruding thoughts of you bent over his sink as he railed you relentlessly. or your legs hooked over his shoulders as he looked into your eyes whilst abusing your pussy. the scenarios what would race through his mind at night whilst he fisted his cock savagely.

you shook your head, your forehead leaning forward to press against his as you look into his eyes. “no, i know. i want to, coryo. please. i… i need your cock.” you whined, your hips rolling against his extremely stiff dick through his strained boxers.

after a couple more reassurances, he finally was lined up against your cunt, and your heart was beating so fast you thought you were gonna implode. you should be feeling turned on. you should be still gushing at the anticipation of what was about to happen. so why do you feel scared?

coryo didn’t notice at first. he pushed in slowly, checking every second that you were okay. you simply nodded. you didn’t moan. you wanted to. you wanted to be scratching his back, screaming his name, bucking your hips up into his. but instead, you had tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.

everything was muffled, seeming like it was going in slow motion around you. the sounds of his hips slapping against your skin was a distant memory — even though it was happening this very minute.

his grunts and dirty words which left his throat was unfamiliar. it didn’t feel real. the ringing in your ears grew louder and louder, and soon enough tears were streaming down your face.

coryo’s face was buried into the crook of your neck as he thrusted deeply, not realising the sudden blood around his cock inside of you. the way your chest heaved up and down quickly didn’t even occur to him that it was because you were writhing in pain — the whimpers and moans which left your lips was most definitely not of pleasure and the salty wisps of wetness coating your cheeks was not tears of pleasure. it was only the strangled sob of “stop,” that you don’t even remember leaving your mouth was the only thing that got him to look up. the sight of his face dropping and frantic words of worry he spoke wasn’t even audible to you. the feeling of the warm cloth he had gotten from the bathroom to clean up the blood was like having hypoesthesia against your numbness. you were detached from your soul — watching it all happen from above. third person. were you a narrator in your own world?

you were brought back when you felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as he whispered nonstop apologies against your hair, his hands gently cradling you against his chest, in his lap as if you were a priceless china doll which would break if looked at the wrong way. an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over you, and you burst into tears.

it wasn’t meant to be like this. why can’t you get this perturbation out of your body?