🍳 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 Time Is The Best Time To Eat! -> ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞

Sugar and Sweet

I DID IT I FINALLY WROTE IT 😎

Paring : Dark!Coriolanus Snow x bimbo reader

Warnings : degradation, yandere, smut...

From the moment the midwives handed his daughter to him, Casca Highbottom knew he would do everything in his power to protect her from the horrors of the world. With your mother passing away a few weeks after your birth, leaving your father as your sole parent, it came as no shock that you were a complete daddy's girl.

You were a pure soul, a little angel without a mean bone in your body, always trusting and kind towards anyone you met, albeit some would snicker behind your back, calling you foolish and naive, but for the most part, people couldn't help but be drawn towards your sugar and sweet personality.

The first time Coriolanus Snow saw you, he was eight. You were a little thing wearing a puffy pink princess dress and playing on the swings with the boy from the Plinth family when a group of elitists came to mock the boy. Usually, Coriolanus ignores the ruckus, thinking himself above it all. On that day, he couldn't help staying and watching as you stood in front of Sejanus and told the bullies to leave him alone. Of course, that had ended with you getting pushed down and scraping your knees; luckily, your father had arrived just in time to save you, "stupid girl." Coriolanus mumbled before leaving the playground.

That was all years ago. Now, at eighteen, Coriolanus was far from the little boy in the playground; having become an excellent actor, never letting anyone notice the imperfections of his life in between the cracks, and you, oh how he hated you with your pretty (h/c) hair and perfect life, the little darling of the academy, always surrounded by people trying to carry favor with you in hopes of getting in the good graces of your father, everyone knowing how much Casaca Highbottom spoiled his precious daughter.

"I hate her." Coriolanus would whisper breathlessly, waking up from another one of his filthy dreams with you in it, "You're mine !" He'd moan in the shower, hand on his cock, as he imagined you on your knees struggling to fit all of him in your mouth.

Anyone else would've had a hard time hiding their desires, but Coriolanus was different; he'd been aloof when he saw you that day, smiling as if he hadn't just cleaned the bathroom tiles at his home after he'd cum with thoughts of defiling you.

There was only one person who saw through Coriolanus's acts, Dean Highbottom saw the boy for what he was, a vicious snake biding time before striking, so he had tried everything to keep you away from Coriolanus, but you simply ignored your father's warnings, "Coryo's a good person, papa !" Words that made the aging man worry for you more than before, but try as he might, you still continued to spend time with Coriolanus, much to the boys' satisfaction.

It all started when a professor paired the two of you to complete an assignment. Despite popular belief, you were actually quite intelligent, a fact that shocked Coriolanus, who only saw you as a pretty fool. During the time spent together, you'd developed a crush on him. Who could blame you...He was just so charming, with pretty blue eyes and Icy blonde hair. He noticed, of course, the way you'd blush and stutter around him, and he used it to his advantage.

"I don't love her," he'd remind himself while kissing your pouty lips. "I'm just using her to get back at Highbottom." He'd think, as you gave him a kiss on the cheek holding the rose he gave you, so why did his blood boil when he saw you giggling at something Sejanus said or the sweet smile you gave Felix after thanking him for helping you get a book from the top library shelf...

Even now, with him on top of you as he trailed kisses down your neck, he didn't want to believe it. "Do I actually..." No, of course he didn't. He couldn't possibly have fallen in love with you; that was ridiculous. You were too sweet for his taste, always bringing him little snacks you made, holding his hand in reassurance when he took you to his mother's grave, telling him you were so happy he was your boyfriend...

"I...I love you, Coryo." You'd cried doe eyes filled with tears as he rutted into you for the first time, his cock so deep you'd felt it hit your cervix, your virgin blood staining the silky sheets of your childhood bed "f..fuck." he'd groaned, biting your already brused neck, "Say it again." He demanded it this time, as he trusted in you faster and harder, desperate to have you speak the words to him again as he filled you up with his cum.

"I love you too..."

Coriolanus mumbled, running his hands through your soft (h/c) locks, having finally come to terms with his own emotions as he looked at your sleeping face, your hands clinging on to his bare chest right on his heart as if you'd known the beating organ was yours to claim all along. There was no denying it anymore. "Snow had fallen."

Likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated !

My ask box is always open if anyone wants to talk !

Might do a part 2 if I'm motivated enough 💅🏼

Taglist for this : @wotcherpeak @2summer-sound2 @2summer-sound2 @jadelakes @sleepydang @notyourwildestdream @prettyinsatiable @themorriganisamonster @isa-swlyn @poppyflower-22

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Why are people talking about how Eddie would have a breeding kink like bro can't even graduate. 💀

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ AMERICAS SWEET-TARDs

ᯓ★ Homelander is forced to babysit you, the troublemaker of The Seven. Deadpool!reader does not like cooperating, dark humour, goofy stuff, typical cursing, gore, story is set on season 4. Reader is gn (uses they/them pronouns)!!

ᯓ★

How you found yourself in Vought's office is hard to explain. One thing you were bursting into the building of Amazon and the second you're here. You sat on the sofa, looking around as you whistled a tune to save yourself from the boredom.

"Why the fuck am I involved with this?" Your eyes perked up at the distant voices from outside the door.

"I'll explain when we're there"

Oh?

Being the nosy person you are, you got up and pressed the side of your ear against the door to get a better hearing of the conversation.

"Your plan won't come together if you don't settle the pieces in place, and this is your plan so you need to work with me here"

Suddenly it's quiet...

Did they leave?

Before you could react, the door opens and you ended up falling flat on your face. You tilt your head up to see it's Sister Sage and Homelander looking down at you. You chuckle.

"Sooo... you both look angry... did I do something?"

Hearing your question, Sister Sage scoffs at you.

"Did you?? You broke into Amazon's headquarters because they messed up your order. You even threatened to kill their CEO. Do you know how bad that is for the image?"

"I refuse to refer to a person named Jeff Bezo a CEO" You said when you got on your feet while dusting off your knees.

"Besides, I don't have an image. I'm pretty sure that I don't even have a face!!" Hearing your words, Sister Sage can't help but roll her eyes at you.

"Nonono seriously, I do not have a face. All this underneath the mask? It's like smashed up birthday cakes in there—"

"Okay I get it!!" She glares at you... then turning her attention to Homelander who's been listening attentively with his hands behind his back.

"You're babysitting Deadpool" She commanded like an order and he turns to look at her with his brows slightly raised.

"Me?" He said, clearly from his face he looks like he's about to be ticked off.

"Yes, I don't know what is it about them that makes it so hard for me to predict their moves" Just as she said that, she turns to look at you. You bat your eyes at her like a deer caught in headlights.

"Not to mention you're making a shit tons of problems for me to deal with here. You even had Lily be sent for therapy!!" She points at you and you held both your hands up in defeat by the mention of your agent.

"Hey now... All I did was cut off my arm and mailed it to Elon Musk. How else was I gonna give him the middle finger?" Your defense being enough to have her let out a sigh as she looks away.

"I don't care, just don't let them do anything stupid while I go help Firecracker with her script" She said to him and you both watches as she leaves. Once she's gone, he turns to look at you, a displeased expression on his face.

To your surprise, he was really actually TOTALLY doing what she's asking him to. You never saw him take orders like that before, let alone from a WOMAN.

"What was that?!" You exclaimed, both arms thrown towards the hallway where Sister Sage is seen to be walking down.

"What happened to Misogyny?! You're really just gonna let that happen???" You looked at him but he just rolls his eyes at you.

"Shut up. She's done more than you've ever did compared to your years here" He walks past you and ends up sitting down on the sofa. You don't say anything while you watch him go.

You're aware that your inability to die makes him bored of you but you didn't think he'd find you this boring.

Honestly it kinda hurts...

Because now you're gonna have to do more crazy shit to piss him off.

You cleared your throat as you forced up a smile.

"You know what, great talk. I'm gonna go be a good citizen now—"

"You step one foot out of this room and I'll lazer off two of your fucking legs"

"..."

With no idea how to respond to the threat. You stood at the door, looking down at your legs then back up at him... before taking a wide step out of the room.

He let's out an annoyed groan.

"Look I don't see why all of a sudden, you two, give the slightest shit about what I do. Has it ever occurred to you that this is my coping mechanism after YOU SLAUGHTERED NOIR—"

"Oh for christ sake, cry me a fucking river"

"You sure you really want that? 'Cause trust me I can cry the entire Nile river in this very room— and I can't promise you it'll be water" He looks at you and you look back at him, your body still standing a few feet away from the room.

"You done whining?" He asks, his expression showing not even the least of interest in your act. You let out an offended sound.

"Am I done whining?! Do you even know me?? That's LITERALLY all I do!!"

Clearly feeling hurt, you began to storm off. From the distant you could hear Homelander let out an exhausted sigh but you could care less right now.

Man if only you could go back to the first day where you two met.

Oh how traumatised he looked when he saw you cut your ears off in an attempt to escape Stillwell's welcoming speech.

Once you made it to the ground floor, you kicked the entrance door open with your chest slightly puffed out.

Who the hell does Ms. Know-It-All thinks she is to have any authority over you? You're the original member of The Seven for fuck sake.

"Holy shit it's Deadpool!!" A fan, seemingly a teenager points at you and you turned towards their group with your most charming smile.

"Hey now, try not to cream your pants... if you've even reached that stage yet..." Without even letting a second pass, the group stands around you as the one at the front takes out their phone for a selfie.

"Say Chimichangas!!" You said, holding up peace signs.

"Chimichangas!!"

⊹FLASH⊹

Once the picture is taken, the fans are quick to check the results while you scratched the itch on your butt. Once satisfied, they gave you their thanks before walking away.

At the same time you could hear the sound of Homelander approaching you from behind. You let out an annoyed groan before turning to face him but before you could even react, he grabs you roughly by the jaw.

"Years of your shit and you still won't learn your fucking place. If I say something. You do it. Understand?" He glares at you, his teeth gritted as his lips formed his signature psychotic grin.

You stare back and you could feel from his grip that you were being slightly lifted off the ground.

"Well excuse me, my liege. I must have missed the memo about being your personal slave. Is it too late to withdraw my contract?" He stares at you... before letting go of you while looking away out of despise.

"You're a cancer on this earth" He said as he's busy wiping his glove clean on his chest. You simply laugh at his remark.

"AH HAHaa hoo... well... you can always count on me to pop up unannounced" You shoot him a wink and decided to walk away, not really caring much of the consequences if you did.

Seeing you walk away like he's nothing, Homelander clenches his jaw out of irritation.

"You're always testing my patience (Y/N)" He said and you instantly stopped walking when you hear him addressing you by your real name.

"Uuugggh seriously? You ran out of tricks so now you're using my government name? You've gone old, John" You fold your arms as you turned to face him.

Noticing the angry look on his face, you are almost not surprised with what happens next.

⌁ZZZZ⌁

You look down, realising you've been lasered in half. Sounds of people nearby screaming was like background noise for you because you were too focused watching your upper half slide off your lower half... then eventually falling to the ground. You grunt from how annoying the situation has become.

"Ah great... now I'm half the person I used to be..." You partially joked as Homelander picked you effortlessly off the ground before taking you back into the Vought Tower.

"Can you at least tell me why you're taking away my rights as a republican?" You asked with your upper half being carried over his shoulder.

"You don't matter enough to know" He says.

After shooting several finger guns at the horrified employees passing by, you made it back to the office where all of your problems began. You yelp when Homelander just threw your body parts on the sofa, you turn to face him after your efforts to have yourself sit up straight.

"Jeez, you're about as exciting as a stale piece of bread" You said and he takes the sofa in front of you. For a couple of seconds he doesn't say anything but watch you with a stoic expression.

You interrupt the silence with a cough.

Then it's silent again.

.....

Okay this is too boring.

"Could you laser me again for entertainment—? Since you're such a buzz kill it can't be hard" You asked but he stays quiet, not saying anything to add fuel to your fire of words.

Once you realise what he's doing, you let out a long groan.

"Where's my Katana? I might as well just kill myse—"

"How are you not worried about all of this?" He interrupts you and your body freezes in place just as you're about to reach for your weapons.

"How is it that everyone's going through a fucking crisis and you're just... jacking off and watching Netflix series like somebody's drunk unc" He stares at you, slight glimpse of envy shown in his eyes. You scoff out of disbelief before laughing and wheezing uncontrollably.

"Well, unlike some people— UHMUHMyouUHMUHM , I happen to know how to unwind and have fun. Maybe you should try it sometime. Might loosen that stick up your ass" You shoot him a smile and you could feel your powers growing back the bottom half of your body.

He snarls at you.

"I'm the Homelander. I'm the strongest being ever. I don't have time to unwind"

"I don't know man what kind of strongest being brags about being the strongest?" You said with your back pressed against the cushion of the sofa, your hand just casually toying with your dagger.

"DON'T YOU—"

Just as he stands up to shout at you with his eyes now glowing red, the door to the office opens and you both turn to see it's Sister Sage. She looks at you, somewhat an unsurprised reaction to your torn off body parts.

"Great, at least you're not off running to harass another important client of ours"

"Are we done?" Homelander stands near her, clearly fed up with the time he's spent with you so far.

You groan but this time purposely making it known to everyone in the room.

"Great, now there's two people pinning against me. You know... it wouldn't hurt to tell me what your plan is. Maybe I can help!" You said, putting up your most charming smile.

Sister Sage stares at you... more like judging you but then she had a look of epiphany.

"Actually... hearing you say that... you could be useful... if we can get you to start a hate campaign towards the Starlighters. This could make my part with Firecracker so much easier. And besides! Incels LOVE you. You've practically obtained the based persona. You're the perfect mascot" She said, her eyes sparkling as she's clearly brainstorming now.

Homelander stands there, a plastic grin on his face while he has both his fists placed on his hips.

"What?" He says, his eery grin still on his face. You laugh as you crossed your... baby legs?

"You hear that Johnny? People LOOOVEEE me..." You bragged which instantly ticked him off

"Listen up, you walking STD. The ONLY thing that people love about you is your annoying, obnoxious, unfunny fuck of thinking you're gods gift to comedy"

"Well I did make that comedy christmas movie with Maeve. Rest in peace that poor soul, it's like I can still hear her in my nightmares" You said while pretending to wipe away a tear. He rolls his eyes at you and Sister Sage watches in almost amusement.

Her slight smile making Homelander whip his attention to her immediately.

"Are you fucking enjoying this right now?" He glares and she quickly covers it up with a serious look.

"I'll go prepare the venue" She simply said before walking away. You laugh as you notice Homelander still having that angry look on his face when watching Sister Sage walk away.

"Do you need a snickers little kid? You're not you when you're hunrgy"

⌁ZZZZ⌁

....

"You just had to push my fucking buttons" He said, the red glow in his eyes dimming after lasering a hole through your head. He stares at your corpse that was still for a moment before you flipped him off with both hands.

He rolls his eyes with a defeated sigh before walking out the office.

[The Next Day]

"GOOD MORNING AMERICA!! IT IS ME!! YOUR FAVOURITE SUPERHEROOOOO!!" The crowd goes wild as you make your appearance on stage. Your mic in hand and the other waving at the crowd.

Homelander who's also present at the campaign, watches from the backstage with a stoic expression.

"Now now now! I have been gathered here to talk about the Starlighters! Huh! Yeah?!" You began to shoot finger guns at the crowd when they started booing at the mention of the Starlighters.

"I know!! Terrible people!! Boooo!! Tomato tomato" You chuckled as you walk across the stage.

"I mean how could you cancel the one and only Homelander? He literally has the personality of a wet sock. Dude already has his own demons to battle!! As a matter of fact, what kind of person goes after a father?! It's not our fault your daddy left you Starlight!!" The crowd cheers at your words.

You turn to give Homelander a thumbs up but he just looks at you with an unimpressed look.

The moment your turn of the campaign was over and it was time for Firecracker to do her thing, you happily skipped on your feet to your next destination... but you were soon stopped when you saw Homelander standing in your way. Though it didn't seem to affect at all.

"You should stop frowning if you don't want your face to look like a nut sack" You pat him on the shoulder before walking past him. With your back turned to him, he couldn't help but touch his forehead a bit... then hurrying to catch up to you.

"Where are you going now?"

"Somewhere full of fun that's for sure" You turn the corner and walked a few more before making to your favourite shop.

You stand in front of it while he stands beside you, his expression unreadable.

"A... pet shop?" He was confused but you didn't bother to answer his confusion and decided to just head on in.

He shakes his head out of frustration before entering the place. He's completely frozen in place when he sees you already surrounding yourself with dogs. You laugh almost maniacally as you enjoyed the way the dogs were licking you so joyfully. That was until you notice the way Homelander is staring at you, scorned by your behaviour.

"What? You upset not even dogs love you? God I'm pretty sure not even flies want to come near you" You joked but his attention on you is pulled away when a dog began gnawing at his glove.

He scowls as he decides to move his hand out of the way but the dog ends up jumping on him to try to chew on the glove as if thinking it's a chew toy.

"Nonono— shoo! Go!" He said while sound of your laughter can be heard in the background.

Oh boy...

[The Next Next Day]

How you scored yourself an invite to the Met Gala was unbelievable. But since you were going, Homelander was left with no choice but to accompany you. As you'd expected it, he showed up in his suit. He really doesn't care about this stupid gathering when he has better things to do.

Better things than supervising your ass.

"Make waaaay for your majesty!!" You said loud enough to make your grand entrance known. Cameras all panning towards you in order to take pictures of your outfit.

You were definitely still wearing your iconic red suit but you had worn a sarape over it. As well as a sombrero and the fake moustache to finish the look. And don't forget the guitar now!! Literally nobody knows why you always do shit like this. The theme is literally 'The Garden Of Time'.

"BOOO!!! FUCK YOU DEADPOOL!! YOU'RE A MENACE TO SOCIETY!!" A starlighter said amongst the rest of the protestors. They must have shown up when they heard news of you and Homelander's appearance. You laughed as you waved your hand dismissively at them.

"Oh, come on, don't be so grumpy. I didn't ask to be born this awesome" You said when walking past their group with Homelander following behind you, both hands placed behind his back like he's your bodyguard.

[The Next Next Next Day]

Of course you'd get yourself arrested for doing some crazy shit during the after party. You whine to yourself as you were chained up in the cell. After all you're no regular prisoner but a supe, so they had to treat you like a monster.

Suddenly two armed guards approached your cell, you stared at the cold faces on their faces before inspecting your restraints.

"You know, I always wanted to try bondage, but I didn't think it would be with such an unenthusiastic audience" You said and soon one of them opened the cell to release you from your imprisonment.

You let out a satisfied grunt as you rubbed both of your sore wrists. Just as the two guards left, Homelander came into view. With the annoyed look on his face, you had expected him to at least be happy to see you.

"Why the long face?" You asked when exiting your cell.

"You caused a raid at the after party. What word of do not cause trouble do you not understand?"

"Ahh you people confuse me. Oh Deadpool please rile up the Starlighters! No Deadpool don't punch the Starlighter for spilling your drink on you! Pick a side goddamn it!" You said changing your voice each time when imitating a person.

Homelander rolls his eyes at your attitude.

"I can't wait for this to be over with" Homelander murmured and began walking away. You didn't wait for a second to pass before chasing after him.

"Hey now! I'm literally your only friend left! Maeve got blown into Christmas dust, Noir became jello, The Deep... eh... he's still pretty balls deep inside an octopus, A-Train is busy being in his redemption arc. And Starlight? To be honest I never considered her apart of our friend group" You whispered the last part as though you were gossiping, which you were in the case.

"Lucky me" Homelander said in the most monotone voice it was hard not to miss the absent of emotions in his eyes.

"You're welcome bestie!! #2 bestie though because I've just became friends with Espresso lady last night" You said and quickly took your stuff back from the officer to show the picture of you and Sabrina Carpenter on your phone.

"Ugh..." Clearly not interested, Homelander left you behind but you could care less as you ended up bragging it to the poor police officer just trying to do his job.

[The Next Next Next Next Next Day]

Of course you're a supe so 99% of your job is to have fun while the 1% of your job is saving lives. You laughed as you fought with the group of thieves inside the crowded casino. A feet away stood, you guessed it, Homelander watching with his arms crossed. It looked more like he wanted this to be over with than be concerned for the safety of the civilians.

"Man this place looks great! How did I never knew of this part of the city?" You said looking around the interior design after effortlessly dodging the man's knife which you simply twisted in his hands to stab it right through his chest.

"Can you get away? I'm trying to win here" An old granny spoke when pushing the dead corspe off the gambling machine.

"Oooo... what's this?" Your eyes went wide in awe as you watched her repetitively tap on the button. Years of your life and you never thought of such a divine invention.

"FUCK YOU!!" A thief jumped off a table and onto your back, his knife in hand as he continously stabbed you on the chest.

"Why is it always the bad guys with the lousy gambling habits? Seriously, I could be playing poker right now, and instead, I'm stuck here whooping your asses" You whipped out your gun and shot the man in the face, his grip on you loosening as he falls to the ground.

Clearly knowing they have no chance in winning, they quickly ran but you simply shot each of them from the back until the very last one. With the dead bodies splattered across the casino floor, you spin your pistol around to blow the hot smoke from it.

"They don't call me Deadpool for nothing. Get it? Cause' Dead... pooool" You laughed when motioning at the pool of dead bodies on the ground that some of the bystanders watching and hiding were scared of what to do at the moment.

They also don't call you the insane member of The Seven for nothing.

[The Next Next Next Next Next Next Day]

You yawned with your back pressed on the sofa while Homelander was pretty much glaring daggers down at you. That's because you decided to make yourself feel homey in his room. With how good the leather felt— how could you not?

"Hey Ryan!" You waved at Ryan who awkwardly stops at the mention of his name.

"Hey..." He waves back at you with a nervous smile before hurrying up the stairs.

Even with Homelander pretty much wanting to kill you right now, you still had the mood to stretch all over his sofa. You grunt at the bliss of the feeling. The feeling of relaxation.

"Maaaan! I haven't gotten to rest for the past few days. Makes me wish I was born a rock"

"Why are you even in my room?" He asks, his voice so piercing.

"Eh... Ever head of a sleepover? Don't you wanna put on face masks together and do each other's nails? We ARE besties aren't we? #2 bestie though since Espresso lady—"

"Enough! GET OUT!!" Suddenly he lifts you up and threw you out the window. Ignoring the sounds of screaming and car alarm blaring, he sat down on the sofa with his eyes closed.

Finally... some peace...

[The Next Next Next Next Next Next Next Last Day]

With the responsibility of needing to follow you around to make sure you didn't intervene with Sister Sage's plan, he was starting to lose his sanity, or what's left of it. He sits in his chair with the rest of the members. Apparently you had called for a meeting and you had to specify that it was an important one. About what? Nobody knows.

"Where is Deadpool?" Firecracker asked since everyone had been waiting for almost an hour now. But just as she said that, you arrived, multiple puppies in your arms.

"Hellooooo! Thank you for waiting for me!! I had to drop by the pet shop to adopt these little devils" You said as you handed one to each of them.

"Ooh puppies!" Black Noir said happily when accepting one from you.

"Can you hurry up?" Sister Sage spoke up with the puppy in her hand playfully biting her fingers.

"Yeah yeah don't rush me, don't you know how to respect your elders?" You stood at the center in front of them. Before starting you made sure to clear your throat very thoroughly. All expected you to be serious about what you had to say but suddenly you balled your fists together with your effort of making puppy dog eyes.

"Pleasepleaseplease let me have my freedom back!! I swear I'll be good!!" You begged and Homelander practically stared at you while not giving much care of the puppy gnawing at his glove.

"You know you wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't been constantly breaking all the ties we have with other companies!! Do you know how helpful it could have been if you didn't pull that stunt at the met gala's after party?" Sister Sage said, expressing her frustration towards you but you waved her off dismissively.

"Okay but seriously guys, I appreciate the whole 'let's babysit Deadpool since they're a walking disaster' routine, but it's getting a bit old. I mean, come on, I've been doing the whole vigilante thing for a while now and nobody ever had a problem with it! I was even the host for MTV 2020!!"

"Which they banned you after because you exposed every celebrity there!"

"Not my fault that Ryan Reynolds had a thing for me"

You sighed.

"I'm starting to think you hate me Sage"

"Oh wow I wonder why"

"Nonono it's because I'm so smart that you can't even predict my next moves!!"

"Or maybe, you make the dumbest decisions that even I can't predict them!!"

"Oh please! I'm the Picasso of poor decisions! It's an art form! The only thing predictable is my ability to be unpredictably unpredictable"

Suddenly all attention turned to Homelander the second he let out an annoyed sound.

"... you know what? Fine. Go do your own thing. Bother someone else who gives a shit" He said waving you off and you jumped happily in the air. At the same time, Sister Sage looked at him in disbelief.

"You know they're gonna get in the way of our plans right?"

"Do you wanna babysit them?" He asks which made her stay quiet and simply lean back into her chair.

All of them watched as you happily skipped your way out of the meeting room. As expected, for the next few days you created more problems for everyone to deal with, first you created a line of Deadpool-themed lingerie which the manufacturing had to be shut down because the company you worked with were selling it using fake products, it was so bad that it had influencers calling you out for it.

Then there was the thing where you hired a bunch of hackers to loop baby shark on every TV in America. That nearly got you arrested but Vought being Vought, they managed to bail you out. If it didn't get worse, you also went ahead spraying neon red on the Statue of Liberty and for some reason replaced all billboards with ads featuring a fake upcoming movie called "Deadpool: The Musical".

During those same days, you were away most of the time so when you came back to Vought to find Homelander in his wrecked up room. You decided to sit down beside him on the floor. Everything was destroyed, even the TV screen was smashed but yet it was still playing. You could care less on why he did it. All you cared about was your hungry stomach right now.

"Chimichangas?" You said, offering him one. He looks at you with a blank expression... before taking one and eating it himself.

Eventually you two enjoyed the food peacefully while you leaned your head on his shoulder, a smile on your face and a scowl on his.

Hunger | Coriolanus Snow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

President Snow’s lips curl skywards.

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

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

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

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

…Makes me almost jealous.

Your head whips up.

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

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

His scrutiny swells your unease.

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

You give an apologetic smile to your husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Henry sighs, grabbing your hand.

“Alright. I’ll go fetch the car.” 

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

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

“Did he say something to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you can’t help it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” you ask, your curiosity peaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows knit. “I love our place.”

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

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

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

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

Nodding, you give a feeble smile.

“Understood.”

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

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

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

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

A wobbly smile cants your lips upwards. 

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

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

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

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

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

You nod.

“I made beef stew.”

“Wonderful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A crooked smirk blooms on Snow’s lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A warm breath tickles the shell of your ear.

“You seemed peeved before.”

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

“You scared me…President.”

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

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

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

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

So your heart spills out of you.

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

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

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

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

“Such a sweet soul,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He runs his fingers through his dark curls.

“I don’t understand.”

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

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

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

He hunkers in front of you and holds your hands.

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

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

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

Though doubts creep inside you, you nod.

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

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

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

So you come to a decision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A distorted sigh ripples from the intercom.

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

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

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

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

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

Your jaw hangs slack as you turn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shaky words trickle out of your mouth.

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

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

You swallow the lump in your throat.

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

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

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

“No, thank you.”

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

So you settle for the truth.

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

Snow scrutinizes you for a while. Your stomach tightens. 

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

“Do tell me everything, dove.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His deep lilt pauses your motion.

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

Your brow furrows as you drop back on the chair.

“An alternative?”

“I could cover the difference.”

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

It’s a godsend.

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

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

“A favor?”

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

He leans forward, crossing his arms over his desk.

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

You move your head in assent.

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

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

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

“W-What?”

“Lie to me.”

Your skin heats under his scrutiny. 

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

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

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

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

“I…W-When do I start?”

The corners of Snow’s lips tug upwards.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“You’re going to work for him?”

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

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

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

You cup his face, plunging your eyes into his.

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

A hollow chuckle slips through his lips.

You run your thumbs over his growing beard.

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

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

“Just come home when you’re done.”

“I will,” you promise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This smells like heaven,” Snow purrs.

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

“Have a seat.”

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

 “Oh, I thought…”

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His smile broadens.

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

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

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

His cerulean gaze locks with yours.

“That song you were humming earlier.”

Your chest seizes.

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

“A song?”

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

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

“Ah, that. It’s nothing,” you elude.

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

The compliment leaves you speechless.

But his next words tie your stomach in knots.

“I want to hear it again.”

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

“You mean since you left the Covey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth goes dry as sand. 

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

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

Like a bird in a cage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Progressively, colors dim around you. 

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

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

You bolt in a sitting position. 

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

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

“Ariadne? What happened?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You politely decline. 

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

Ariadne puts a hand on your arm.

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

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

“Good,” you reply, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

Her grin expands.

“He is exceedingly pleased with your performance.”

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

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

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

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

The gap is still too vast. 

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

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

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

You turn the burners off, your eyes rounding.

“I’m not?” 

A bright smile blooms on the brunette’s face.

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

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

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

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

Utter dismay fills you.

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

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

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

Eventually, you’re dressed. 

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

You’re alone.

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

Ariadne beams at you from above her shoulder.

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

Your stomach knots, a foreboding feeling swelling within you.

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

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

His gaze twinkles as he drinks you in. 

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

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

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

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

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

Your face contorts into a puzzled expression. 

“Celebrate?”

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

Your heart misses a beat. Is he firing you?

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

“Really?”

He gauges you and his smile grows.

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

An audible exhale slips through your mouth. 

“This is…I don’t know what to say.”

“You can say thank you.”

“Thank you, President Snow.”

His laugh resonates in the near empty dining room.

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

You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“I suppose we are…Coriolanus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart bounces. Your eyes snap open.

Your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

Your shocked gaze finds his.

His smile expands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wave of ice spreads through you. 

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

Every time…

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

A shudder shoots through your frame.

You twist your body as panic seizes you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t let him touch you again.

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

Coriolanus’ wicked laugh echoes behind you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is nowhere to hide.

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

His frustration coats the air.

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

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

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

Hot air suddenly breezes over your nape.

“Found you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All because of you.

You will never forgive yourself.

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

A chill-inducing glint dances in his orbs.

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

The world collapses around you.

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

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

He cups your face.

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

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

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

His tone softens as his hands drag over your hips.

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

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

Please i need the fic of homelander asking "would you love me if I was a worm"

"C'mon," Homelander encourages, rolling his hand in an impatient, urging motion. He's smiling, but you can see the slight edge to it. "Just say it, and we can move on." "This is very silly," you say, arms crossed, fighting back a smile. "Yeah! Yeah, of course it is. It's a silly, stupid little question," he agrees, albeit a little too intensely. His smile borders on uncomfortably wide. "So just... answer it."

He isn't going to let this go. Your playful avoidance has morphed the initially harmless little joke into something more severe. He's tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. His smile has grown a touch unnerving now, not at all reaching his eyes. You're going to have to answer the question.

Hauling yourself up from your own seat, you make your way over to Homelander. You bend down to balance your hands on the arm rests of his chair, meeting his eye level. "I would make sure your enclosure was always a humid 70, you'd have the finest soil, and only the freshest compost," you say, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "You would be the most loved little worm there ever was."

When you draw back, Homelander's expression has become sly, like the proverbial cat that got the canary. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you down into his lap, nuzzling at your neck just to savor the way it makes you wriggle. "Theeere, was that so hard?"

Laughing, you twist to face him. "Well, would you love me if I were a worm?"

"Oh, absolutely not," he says, immediately feigning profound disgust, using his tongue to make a revolted noise afterwards. "Can't stand worms."

You give an outraged laugh, smacking him right in his thickly padded chest. "After all that? You asshole." He grins, holding you tight. "Relax, babe. You wouldn't know any better. You'd be a worm."

You should have said you'd feed him to the fish in Deep's aquarium.

Guys, sorry for not posting and not replying to any of your guy's comments and also the ask. I was just busy with school and stuff, so updates are coming soon, but they will be slow for rn.

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their stage names, either."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple. Something easy, yet not so simple.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

HELP WHY IS HE HOT 😭😭😭🙈🥴

hello, brain is rotting because of him.

Heyyy:)) can i please ask for a clavis x reader smut(with lots of fluff as well), thank youu💕💕

matching・Clavis Lelouch x Reader

genre・Smut 😈with fluff at the end + reader with female genitals

warning・P + V

words・1.75k

+ This is my first ever smut fic, so feel free to judge or criticize this ig. Hopefully, you enjoyed and sorry for the long wait >3 💗

+ Also sorry if it wasn't what you imagine or want. 💖💘💕💞

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Time goes slowly as it passes by...

It felt like time was purposely slowing down; it felt like centuries past without seeing your trouble maker of the prince in the castle doing his princely duties around the kingdom, sitting on the comfortable sofa. Waiting for him to come back, to come back to you in your arms. As you reminisce about his soft touches that were dealt on your body, that you terribly missed.

Sitting down on the soft piece of furniture, wearing one of his jackets he lent to you, still enveloped with his sweet-smelling scent.

Waiting for him. Even if the world was ending, you would be in the exact spot waiting for him to finally come to you, even if it means ignoring your responsibilities as Belle.

As the day becomes night and the night becomes day, you would still return to the same spot. Staring at the window, your sad expression reflects the glass window as for his absence.

That once sad expression soon turned into an expression of beaming joy; seeing horses carrying in a snow-white carriage, hope was still in your heart that he would come, and I guess that same hope was on your side today, rubbing your eyes wake. When you saw that little troublemaker coming down from the carriage.

His dusty purple hair flowed around his handsome face; it felt like forever until you saw him wearing his usual cheeky smile.

Immediately open the door, using all your strength in your body, and run down the stairs to the gate where he arrived—further stopping until you saw him, unharmed and perfectly okay. That little troublemaker of you caused you so much worrying just for him to come; with that cheeky smile of his, you were breathless from the running right in front of him.

"C..clavis," a hoarse whisper came out of you, barely having energy in your voice, smiling at him in joy as your salty tears stained your face, your cheeky turning into a salty stained mess.

"Was I gone for that long?" he said, not.

Even acknowledging what he said and hugging him tightly was surprising to Clavis, especially for you have this comfort of finally having him in your arms made your heart swell.

The worry in you was gone when you got to touch him. When the curtains were drawn, when the time you got to be recovered by the touches and kisses you longed from him. Your leg wrapped around his waist as you both shared a passionate kiss; he was your addiction, someone that you yearned for, finally satisfying your craving for the word love.

Your back hit the soft bed as you both redrew from the kiss, and the wetness between your legs started to ache; being without Clavis in the castle did take a toll on you and your body. "C-clavis...I-" you were shortly overtaken by another deepen kiss than before, your tongues interlinked, moaning from immense pleasure.

Wrapping your hands over his neck, propping yourself and look at him with a hazy expression. "You were worried, weren't you" he whispers while unbuttoning his shirt. You were embarrassed to admit that you genuinely needed him and waited for this moment.

Your gaze follows his slender fingers unbuttoning his shirt as he lowes his fingers to lose off the last buttons, making your core ache further; you didn't know that your body was deprived of the sexual tension. "You're acting like it's your first time, darling; you were lonely without me, weren't you?" Your eyes laid towards his naked chest, his slender fingers slowly traveling to your clothed arousal.

His finger stroked your clothed arousal as he leaned into you, closing the proximity between you as he started nibbling on your ear and rubbing your arousal; the room was engulfed with your moans and whimper of pleasure as your once tidy display turned into disarray and a sensual look. A patch of wet stain was showing on your panty from the sheer fact of your satisfaction,

"Excited, aren't you, princess" he whispers, withdrawing his fingers away from your cloth arousal.

Your whimpers were sounding in the room. "I think it unfair your one being pleased. It would help if you started undressing" his eyes have a glint of desire and lust in them as he licked his finger covered by your essence.

You hurriedly slipped off your pantie, and your hands trembled as you unbuttoned your blouse; his eyes were still laid off your disarrayed figure. As you finally took off your undergarments, you felt small under his gaze, with your naked figure shown, as the glint of desire was established in his eyes; needless to say, it wasn't a lie that he was one of the dangerous beasts of the kingdom, and true to say it wasn't a lie.

The coldness of the air hardens your peaks.

Opening your leg, propping your hand behind you, showing your gaping hole ready to pleasure one of the beasts of the kingdom, giving him the puppy eyes and motioning your eyes between your legs. Your appearance gave off an alluring and seductive look as the tension inside the room turned into a risqué moment.

His eyes were allured to your suggestive position as you scanned his leaned position to see his hardened shaft forming at his pants.

"Clavis...let me pleasure you, and give you good welcoming" smiling at him and tracing your finger from the outline of his chest to the outline of his shaft. For the most part, throwing him off from that alone.

Throwing a suggestive look at him biting your bottom lip, as your dribbling cunt was tempting him to devour you and fuck you mercilessly. As he throws off his briefs and pants, soon being flashed by his hardened shaft making your arousal even more. Your eyes were laid to his post, propping yourself open as your fingers open your cunts lips. As he inserted his shaft into you, you jolted from the spread of pain through your abdomen.

"F-fuck" you hissed out, wishing the 3rd prince would get it over with and fuck you straight.

Digging your nail into his shoulders and throwing your head back, adjusting his size while inside you. "Ready darling?" he whispered, As he snapped his hips, "H-haah," moaning out as the sensation of pleasure in you from the simple moveth. Grinding your hips for the desprate for the delicious friction you craved so bad.

He was once teasing you again.

The moan and the act of reassurance sent the 3rd prince off the charts, triggering that animalistic urge. Placed his head on the small back of your neck and thrust inward while massing your inner wall and left small kisses throughout your neck, as the burning sensation spreading turned into fleets of pleasure. Forcing to jolted up

"C-clavis, stop being such a tease." softening your grip on his shoulders, tilting your pelvis for an entrance to fill the desperate void. "You sure" as he gave you a mocking cheeky smile and caress the fat of your cheeks.

"Please," giving him puppy eyes, finally sending him off the edge. As the message inside his eyes was working to the allure with a lustful gaze, he was still inside as you trusted inside and out of you with a frantic tempo.

As his room was soon filled with your breathy moans and languid pants.

Your exposed bosom bounced up and down from the frantic pace, and the slapping of skin echoed the room. This is the welcoming you wanted to give him as his long departure; as your gaze becomes hazy from the pleasure and the heat of your body increases, your body feels it is on fire. Marking and spreading kisses through your collarbone and breast as he thrust inside you.

"S-shit," you screamed, as the pace was in tempo, feeling that the 3rd prince enjoyed your welcoming gift from the extended pace, the sensations of the pleasure act.

As he was holding your hips securely, thrust inwards and out, "This is a good awakening, princess. I didn't know you were this good at giving gifts"

Giving him a hazy expression as your tongue was loled out. "You look good this way, (MC)" giving you a hard thrust, jolting you up again, moaning out. Stars were flooding your visions as he trusted inside on your walls.

While you let out a shaky breath as he pounded into you, savoring the delicious sensation. Goosebumps spread through your arms, feeling a coil tension pooling throughout your abdomen as he played with your clit. Enjoying the simulation from the sensation of biting the bottom of your lip. "C-clavis, I'm close," you panted out.

Feeling him pulsate inside you, tighten around him inside your inner walls. "Is that so" his pace was more animalistic than ever as his hips collided with you. Your hips stuttering, the brutal pace wearing you out, as you wrap your neck around his neck, your breast bouncing from the tempo.

"C-clavis, I think-"

"Do it, princess," he caresses your hips; soon, your coil snapped as the long crescendo of moans ranged out through the room, your mind shattering.

The heat pooling from your abdomen dropped, linking out of you. Your released your essence, coating his shaft as your body fell limped from the sensation, leaving you weak.

As his thrust becomes sloppier, feeling him pulsate more inside of you noted that he was close and soon feeling the warm sensation. He takes himself out of you and feels his warmness gone as he empties himself on the sheet.

Your body slumped down, your back hitting the bed. Both of your pantings echoed the room, as your body was covered in sweat, your half-lidded look at him, "S-so, did you enjoy your welcoming gift" you panted out, your legs exposed, still dripping from your earlier release.

His body was caved over you, "Mhm," he panted out, "you always give the best gifts, darling," playing with your hair and kissing and planting hickies on your neck.

As you both share a passionate and sweet kiss, "M'thats good."

"Say, your gift was wonderful darling, let me repay you for it, sharing a hot bath together" as he nuzzled your neck and massage your bosoms. Biting down your bottom lip holding your moans back, from the pleasure "Doesn't that sound good, princess"

Letting out a breathy moan, "Ngh-y-yeah...it doesn't sound good," he soon carried your limped body and walked to his grand bathroom chamber.

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