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panem-plus · 6 months

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first hunger games | one

word count. 2815 warnings. mentions of blood, violence, guns, mentions of abuse, swears last ↞ menu ↠ next

Carmela could still hear the echoes of her mother's wails even as Peacekeepers had dragged her all the way from the square to their tiny house on the outskirts of the village. Her brothers' teary eyes had stared up at her in horror at the sounds, entirely lost in the situation of their new reality. Her father had been the Peacekeeper ordered to stay and watch their mother after the reaping, both out of fear for her life and out of a duty he had to his District.

The family of five sat silently in their living room, not even the sounds of the two boys who would normally be playing with their wooden figurines could break the silence. Her mother stood up slowly from her seat, shuffling towards the kitchen silently as she robotically began making dinner from the scraps that were left in the cupboards. Carmela could see the shake in her hands as she attempted to cut up a carrot to put into the stew she was making.

"Do you need a hand, darling?" Hartley called out to his wife, only receiving a small shake of her head in response.

He turned away from her to face Carmela with a sigh, ensuring that Freya was far enough in the kitchen to not hear what he was going to say.

"You're mother can't know what I'm about to tell you. I heard from some of the Peacekeepers on the way back. They're rigging the vote." Hartley said, Carmela flinching in preparation for the words he was going to speak next. "They're rigging it so it's you."

"What?" Carmela whispered, her heart dropping to her feet.

"There's not going to be a single name in there besides yours, the Mayor will make sure of it." Her father sniffed, the usually emotionless man tearing up at the idea of his eldest being dragged away from their home to her death.

"Can't you do something? Swap out the names for someone else's?" Carmela practically begged her father. "They can't do that. What would the President do if he found out?"

"He won't care. All he cares is that two kids are sent from each District to their slaughter." He sighed, turning his head to see the hauntingly pale face of his daughter. "I'm sorry, Kid. All I can do is help prepare you for whatever you will face."

Hartley stood from the sofa, patting his daughter firmly on the shoulder before retreating into the main bedroom. In his wake, he left behind the shaking-scared girl, whose eyes had completely lost focus as she stared far off into the distance imagining the many ways the Capitol could make her meet her demise. Would she be speared through the chest? Shot through the head? Have her neck slit open and left to bleed like an animal? All she knew was that there was little chance she would ever see her younger brothers once she was shipped off to her death.

She wiped a stray tear from her eyes as she spotted the two boys had made themselves comfortable on the only standing sofa in the room, attempting to read one of the books Mrs Hadley had dropped round for them. Carmela chuckled to herself, already hearing the muffled arguing as they both tried to be the one to hold the book and read to the other. She slipped in between the pair, placing the book, which she now noticed was a very old copy of Harry Potter, onto her lap and beginning to read from the top of the page. The two boys snuggled themselves into either side of her, their eyes already starting to drift shut before their light snores filled the silence of the house.

\\---//---||---\\---//

Harta giggled watching her mother and father chase each other through the fields behind their house, her younger sister sat beside her creating daisy chains and giggling alongside her. From the outside, the quartet seemed to not have a care for what had just been announced by the President only twenty minutes prior. But a keen eye would spot the dried tears painted across her mother's cheeks, the tremble in little Silver's hands as she tried, again and again, to thread the stems through one another, or how Harta herself was not even looking at her parents at all, but watching the sun shine over One for what could be her very last time.

All were affected by the announcement, bar one; Mayor Sitle. The man knew that his children would be safe, knowing very well that the Capitol would not want to anger the man who was in charge of their vast supply of Luxury goods by sending one of his precious daughters to their deaths. They wouldn't dare test the patience of such a powerful asset to their own wealth all for the entertainment of a few psychopaths high up in the Capitol.

"Mum, did they really mean what they said in The Square today?" Silver finally broke the silence.

Their parents came to a pause in front of their daughters, unable to answer the question as they too did not know if what had been said was true.

"I'm gonna be honest, Silvy." Mrs Sitle knelt before her youngest. "I have no idea. Whatever happens tomorrow and the days after that is completely in the hands of The Capitol."

"But what if it's me or Harta?"The twelve-year-old pouted, fiddling with the daisy chain bracelet on her wrist.

"It won't be, my darlings. I promise you." She lied through her teeth, already knowing they would have no control over tomorrow's ceremony, the Head Peacekeeper demanding to have control over the whole thing up until the actual reaping.

She pressed a firm kiss to each of their foreheads, pushing back their matching blonde curls and cupping their cheeks. They were the spitting image of their father, even down to the matching mole under their left eye. The only way anyone could tell they were even her daughters was their eyes; forest green, like the woods that stretched across the edge of the District. Even the crinkle in their nose as they smiled and snuggled into her hands matched that of her husband's, two perfect replicas of the love of her life. She couldn't imagine how she would react if either were picked tomorrow for the Games, how she would have to put on a brave face for all the cameras that were no doubt going to be pointed directly at the family. All she knew was that she would fight tooth and nail to get them back from the depths of hell known as the Capitol, even committing acts of treason and rebellion to do so.

"Should we start heading back, dear?" Her husband knocked her out of her thoughts, pointing to the incoming grey clouds. "Don't want to be caught out here when those roll in."

"Of course. It's almost time for dinner anyways." She sniffed, accepting his hand to stand as the girls began packing up their blankets and raced each other to the back door of the house.

"We have to do something." Mrs Sitle shook her head, turning to face the glum look on her husband's face.

"Commander Brookes won't let anyone but his top Peackeepers anywhere near where they're keeping the name ballot boxes. There's no way we could possibly mess with them in any way without being hanged for treason."

"Then I guess we're being hanged 'cause I'm not just accepting that our daughters might be sent to their deaths and we would have done nothing about it." She turned sharply from her husband, a plan already forming in her head as the blond man ran to catch up with her.

"God, I hate that I love you so much." Mayor Sitle huffed as he caught up with her. "Fine. What's the plan?"

She only smirked up at her husband, already knowing her husband would agree to anything she suggested, no matter how treasonous. The Sitle family would not be torn apart by something as cruel as the Games, not if the Mayor had anything to do with it.

\\---//---||---\\---//

Hunter paced the length of his marble kitchen, his fingernails almost gone and bleeding from his insistent picking at them. His mother watched on in fear, already knowing the storm that was brewing in her son's mind. He was much like his father in that sense, not very quick to anger, but when the rage would finally tip over, no one was safe from it. It was what led them to move from their previous District to their new house in Two and why he was no longer in the picture.

"Hunter, why don't you sit down and eat something? Your food's going cold." Her fragile voice reached out to him.

"I'm not hungry." Hunter snapped, staring out the window as he could see the Gibbons boys playing in their back garden. "I'm going to go see Carmela."

"Maybe it isn't the best idea for you to see her, dear. You've heard what they've all been saying she did to poor Ver-" Mrs Voyage could barely finish her sentence before Hunter stormed over to slam his hands on the table in front of her.

"Don't you dare say that girl's name in front of me. She killed herself, Carmela had nothing to do with it." Hunter seethed at his mother, the vein in his forehead bulging with anger. "You should know better than to test me, mother."

Frida could only stiffly nod her head, scared if she moved too much she would receive a beating similar to the one last time she had mentioned the Mayor's daughter. Hunter stalked away from his mother in a huff, already knowing he was heading straight to the Gibbons's house whether she was going to accept it or not. The girl was his oldest and only friend in the District now that Vera was gone, there was nothing that would separate him from her. The door slammed so hard behind him as he stormed through it that the plaster from the ceiling cracked and fell to the floor slightly, covering his mother's home-cooked meal with the dust of the entire room and ruining all her hard work. Frida sighed as she pushed herself slowly up from the table, already moving towards their cupboard under the stairs where she knew the broom was after many occurrences of dinners and furniture being ruined from her son's anger. Looking out the window, she could see his figure storming up the hill towards town, frighteningly similar to the figure of his father.

As he passed the Justice Building on his way over to the other side of the town, he couldn't help but slip in through the back door, already knowing all the secret passageways from being best friends with his daughter. He smirked to himself when he found the spare key to the Mayor's office, the hiding place inside the bookcase in the corridor had not changed since Vera showed him it. Cracking the door open and hearing no noise from inside the room, Hunter welcomed himself inside, already knowing exactly which drawer to go into to find what he was looking for.

His hands shoved the bags of coins quickly into his pockets, filling them to the brim with stacks of notes and coins. As his hands began to come up bare, he finally looked into the drawer properly, spotting an envelope with the seal of his old district stamped onto the back. Curiosity got the better of the troubled teen and he was stuffing that into his pockets as well as the money.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, alerting Hunter to the presence of either the Mayor or his assistant; the only two people who would enter this wing of the Justice Building. Scrambling to close the drawer he had been rifling through, he launched himself under the wooden desk as the door to the room swung open and shut quickly.

"Commander Hadley, what exactly was so important that it couldn't wait until I was done with my dinner?" Mayor Selman sighed, leaning back against his desk.

"It's about your daughter, sir." Hadley took his helmet off, resting it beside the man.

"What about her?" Selman stiffened, ready to fight his Head Peacekeeper if he dared utter a bad word against his deceased daughter.

"The rumours aren't true, the Gibbons girl had nothing to do with her death. It was the boy, that District hopper." Hadley gruffed. "Hunter Voyage is his name."

Hunter stiffened under the desk after hearing his name, already knowing exactly what words were going to come out of the Commander's mouth. He couldn't hear any more of it, covering his hands over his ears as the Commander recounted what he had been told by an unknown source in the District, already knowing exactly who it had come from. His skin crawled at the words he could still hear muffled through his hands, ready to pounce if too much was said.

As their conversation came to a close, Hunter found himself itching to leap from under the desk. He knew exactly where he was headed as the pair retreated from the room, setting as he stormed back through the building the opposite way to where he had come from. Officer workers lept out of the way at the ball of anger that raged through the halls, not caring enough about who the boy was to stop him in fear for the wrath that would be sent their way. The front doors to the building slammed into the concrete behind it as he raced down the stone stairs, his destination already locked and in sight.

\\---//---||---\\---//

Pounding sounded on the Gibbons' front door, awakening the sleeping boys from their peaceful slumber on their sister's shoulder. Before the brunette could stand to answer the door, the doorknob was wiggling violently and the pounding continued; only louder this time.

"Carmela! Open the door! I need to speak to you!" A gruff voice boomed from the other side, Carmela's body going rigid with fear at the recognisable voice on the other side.

Her father came running back into the living room, his rifle at the ready at the commotion going on at his front door. His eyes immediately found those of his wife, nodding for her to move out of the kitchen and behind him, the kids following suit.

"She's not here, Hunter! Go back home!" Hartley shouted back at the boy, inching closer to the door as the pounding continued.

"I know she's here, Hartley," Hunter shouted back, the door almost giving way with how violently he smashed his hand into it. "I know what you said, you bitch!"

"Papa, what's he talking about?" Carmela whispered to her father, curling her fists into the back of his shirt.

"It's not just your name they're rigging into the vote." Her father turned his head to look back at his daughter, already seeing the cogs turn in her head as she realised what he meant.

"You can't do this to me, Carmela! You can't take me down with you!" Hunter's voice sounded closer than it had before like he was in the room with them. "I'll kill you, Gibbons!"

Suddenly the commotion outside their front door stopped for a moment, like the calm before the storm. Hartley inched himself closer to the wooden door, looking through the small peephole only to be met with a barren street.

"He's gone?" Freya whimpered, the two boys cradled to her chest.

"I think s-" Grunts and the sound of a body striking the ground cut Hartley off, followed by the commanding voice of Mr Hadley, the head of the Peacekeepers in Two.

"Oh, thank god." Carmela sighed, leaning against the door to look out the curtained window.

Hunter was face down in the dirt, blood streaming from his mouth as three Peacekeepers struggled to handcuff him. Commander Hadley had his rifle pointed at the boy, shouting words that fell blank to Carmela's ears. His stony, grey eyes met hers, sending a shiver of fear once again down her spine. His thrashing became more violent, three more Peacekeepers having to put all their weight into holding down the manic teenager. Hadley's rifle struck the boy thrice in the head before he finally remained limp in their arms enough for him to be released by all but two of them.

"He's going to get himself killed." Hartley tutted as he joined his daughter at the window. "Or at least get a good beating out of this. Bloody well deserves it."

Carmela could only stiffly nod, not moving from the window until the, now handcuffed, boy was shoved into the back of the Peacekeepers' van and turned down the end of the road. She remained at the window until the sun disappeared from the sky, her face being lit by moonlight. Her mind continued racing with thoughts of the following day's ceremony. How was she supposed to be rigged into the games to fight for her death when she would already be murdered at the hands of her old best friend?

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#a ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad #birds #Panem #songbirds #Capitol #hunger #games #hunger games

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etfrin · 7 months

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⤷❝Can't be Shared | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | somnophilia, mentions of prostitution (Snow was going to 'share' you) cunnilingus, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), possessive af Snow, impact play (he slaps your thigh once), ruined orgasm (you do cum in the end) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow was going to share you with the elite of the Capitol but changed his mind halfway through only to have his way with you and make you the First Lady of Panem

⇢☾A/N: hehe, the longest fic I have writing so far, hope y'all enjoy this and reblog ;)

He thought he would be okay with it. He was sure he would be okay with it. But he wasn't. Snow's blood boiled when the rich elitist of the capitol had begun to touch you, whisper you praises, and whatnot. The only thing that was going in his mind was his, his, his.

When had he gotten so attached, he wasn't supposed to be. Letting them touch you, and play with you was a strategic decision to get them hooked and you weren't meant to be his Queen but something had changed. Something snapping in him when the Capitols’ richest eyed you like a meal.

His jaw was clenched and he cleared his throat, “I changed my mind.” He said, “I am not sharing after all.”

You are his. His property. His bird locked in his cage and now his Queen. He pulled you closer, away from prying hands. He glared, memorizing the face of any and everyone displeased, thinking of plans of how to dispose of them quickly because even if briefly they had touched you that was a sin. No one taints the Queen but a King.

He cordially finishes dinner, keeping in mind he was a president, a newly appointed one at that even if he wanted to he couldn't drag you into his room and have his way with you. But he wanted to. His free hand is on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a small bruise. His hold gets tighter the more he has to smile pretty and act polite.

You hadn't said a word, you weren't sure what to say. You were ready to be shared, used, and then discarded. Snow had told you of this beforehand, but he had changed his mind and you were grateful.

Even as he marked you, made you whimper with his grip, giving your thigh a warning squeeze to be quiet. You were relieved that he decided not to share. You were his, you liked that you were his.

Dinner took longer than you would have preferred, but when it finally came to an end, Snow leaned into you and whispered, “Be on my bed wearing my shirt and nothing else, my bird.”

You didn't reply. You get up, walking into his room, heat choking your veins and making your pussy ache and wet. You close the door as you reach the master bedroom of the manor.

Going into his closet you picked on a red shirt, knowing that it would match your skin tone well. You had taken everything else off, your panties and previous clothes on the floor. You were in full display as you didn't even button up the shirt. Your breasts are exposed to the cold air making your nipples harden.

You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come. One minute bleeds into ten and you laid down on the bed. One hour turns to several and your eyes close up. Sleep catches up with you.

You woke up with a gasp. Sleep at the edge of your mind but your mouth lets out a moan wantonly as several things hit you at once.

One. Snow was here.

Two. Snow was between your thighs, his hands keeping your thighs wide and spread for him.

Three. His lips were on your clit, sucking it vigorously making you arch your back and wanting to flinch away from the intensity.

And you tried to move away, your bud sensitive more with pain than in pleasure. How long was Snow like this, sucking at your clit. Your pussy was now impossibly slick and throbbing, wanting to be filled.

A slap was delivered onto your thigh, a hitched moan leaving your lips because of the delicious pain. “Behave,” Snow sneers at you, his blue eyes looking ravenous, his face smeared with your arousal. This was Snow? You thought for a brief second. For once he felt like a man brought down to his knees by a woman instead of something untouched.

“Sorry,” you gasp out as he dives into your cunt. His tongue drew circles onto your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing. You never thought Snow would be sloppy at anything, you thought wrong because his breathing was loud, warn air of his pants grazing your sex. His stubble brushed against your sex as all of his attention was overstimulating your clit.

He finally lost interest as you cried out that you were close just by him playing with your clit for who knows how long. It hurt. It felt good. Perfect, delicious pleasure and pain. You were dizzy, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts of your cunt untouched by his mouth. He was licking every drop of your juices, all the while he made you wetter.

Your hands were fisted into the sheets, your hips subtly moving for friction. A notion that was stopped with a squeeze of his hand on your thigh. You were brought to your high, so close to the edge you would fall in a second as moans spilled from your lips.

Only for that to be snatched away as Snow moved away. You cry out, “No! Please!” But Snow merely raised an unamused eyebrow while his hand wiped his mouth. “Snow, please,” you whispered, feeling the heat and the high of your lost orgasm.

He lets out a scoff as he sees your desperate state. “My meal is finished,” he merely said. His hand takes off the red suit, the same color as your (his) shirt. His fingers unbutton his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. Those same hands now unzipped his pants, his boxer down to the floor revealing a hard cock. The well-rounded tip leaking pre-cum.

“But I am not done with you yet,” he muses, as he moves in closer. You were sitting up now and his hand was on your nape.

“I don't think I'll ever be done with you,” he whispers, the words sealing a promise of forever. “Don't be,” you whispered back, leaning to catch his lips. Your arms around his shoulders to pull him on top of you, to feel his weight, his skin against yours.

Primal instincts take over you both as you kiss. Desperate whimpers and deep groans could be heard and his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Making it bleed and making him suck your blood into his mouth. He pulls back with a gasp, his eyes wide, his lips swollen. His taste was of a dessert you couldn't name. Addictive and delicious.

His left hand was on your cheek, another still on your nape. His thumb brushes your cheek in a manner of caring. “You're the Queen of Panem now,” he announces, making your heart jump in surprise. “The First Lady of Panem.”

With that, he seals his words with a kiss. Soft and ravishing, his tongue explores your mouth. Your hand is in his hair, the blonde locks between your fingers as you kiss back with everything you have.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing with yours, “My bird in a cage. My property.”

“I'll make sure everyone at Capitol knows it,” he said, his eyes looking at you with the ferality of an animal stripped to his bare instincts. “Is that understood, my bird?” He asked.

The answer couldn't be anything but yes. So you replied exactly that and he grins. He looked beautiful in that moment, his charms coming out making you even more needy.

You pulled him in for another kiss, his lips smiling against yours as both of your tongues tangled. His hand lowered itself and cupped your cunt. His fingers trace your entrance and you whimper into his mouth but he doesn't breach in.

He gathers your arousal on his digits, and he pulls back from the kiss to take the digits into his mouth. After sucking his fingers clean, he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.

His hands pushed you down on the bed, your legs on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, taking you in, his bird being such a pretty mess.

He placed a kiss on your thigh that was unbelievably soft that for a moment you didn't believe it was action done by Snow's lip but the harsh bite of his mouth marking the skin of your inner thigh proved otherwise.

He leaned down, his hand in your hand above your head. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, forming crescent marks that made him groan, a choked-off desperate sound that you wanted more of.

All the while he placed his cockhead right at your entrance. You gasp as you feel the tip slip inch by inch into your velvety warmth. You wondered if he was going so slow because he wanted you to adjust to his length. However, one look at his face told you were wrong. His blonde strands clinging to his forehead, his lips parted and letting out hot breaths all the while his eyes closed shut, his eyebrows furrowed as he buried his dick into your cunt with the slow pace.

The reason he was going slow was because he wasn't sure if he could last and fuck, that got into your head. Birds are little teasers and you were no different so you clenched around him. His length half pushed in and felt your pulsing cunt wrapping itself tighter around him.

His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His icy eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.

“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Snow. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.

“Gentlemen make their women cum but you're not a woman. You're my property but I am merciful so cum. Cum on my cock untouched, my bird.” He groans into your ear as his pace gets faster, a tad bit of desperation creeping in as his hips slam into you without a care. You could only moan in reply, truth is you didn't need to be touched to cum. His cock, his skin against yours, his mouth sucking your neck, and placing love bites were enough. More than so.

The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Snow shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.

You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, my bird,” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.

His hand ran through his hair, pushing the sweaty strands up. “First lady of Panem,” he stated, looking at you and then your body, his cum falling out of your cunt.

“First Lady…” you whispered, in disbelief and for whatever may come in the future.

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