[kxsalt]

cw non-consent

Therapist. Licking the tip of his finger, the man flips through his notes. The girl sits silently on the couch. Her misty eyes stare at the clock on the wall.

“Are you ready to begin?”

She doesn’t reply. Her therapist taps his pen on the paper. Two clicks of the pen, and he scratches out a few notes. She shudders slightly.

“Let’s get started. From the top, let’s go over what happened that night.” Her eyes drift down to the floor. “…again?” She swallows her words. “Trust the process.”

“Uhm… I went out dancing…” The girl’s unfocused expression is blank and docile. Her therapist adjusts his glasses and watches her carefully. “And what were you wearing?”  She picks at her nails, avoiding the question. “…the clothes I showed you…” He nods. “Did you wear them today, like I suggested last time?”

Visibly nervous, the girl holds onto the fabric on the hem of her shirt. “…yes… under here…” The man smiles. “That’s good. You’ve come a long way from our first session. I remember you didn’t even want to look at those clothes.” He clicks his pen twice. “Let’s see them.”

Shallow breaths. She wants him to fix her. Lifting up the shirt, she reveals a thin lace top. He takes more notes. Her sweatpants slide down. A tiny frilly skirt barely hides her blue-and-white striped panties. Long socks match her underwear. Her therapist examines her. “Why do you think you chose to wear that outfit that night?”

Embarrassed, the girl tries to hide her body behind her frail arms. “It was a rave… lots of girls dress like this…” He doesn’t respond, letting the silence invite her insight. “…I guess I wanted attention…” The man writes on his pad. “Well, you certainly got it. Tell me more about what happened.”

“Was a little drunk… lost my friends… dancing on the floor… some guy started touching me…” Her small voice fades off. “Mmhm. Touching you where?” She’s getting more nervous. He adjusts his glasses and watches her breathe. “He was groping my tits.”

The man clicks his pen twice. She shudders. His hand reaches out and cups her breast. “Did he grab you like this?” The girl whimpers, her tiny bralet lets her feel each one of his fingers searching her. “No… was rougher…” Her therapist pushes his hand under the lace, squeezing and gripping her tits. “Like this?”

She nods. “…pinching my nipples and stuff…” He recreates it for her. “Dressed up like that, it’s no wonder some guy wanted to put his hands on you…” The man can feel her rapid heartbeat in her chest. “So what happened next?”

“…uhm… told him to stop…” He squeezes harder. His other hand lifts up her skirt. “Why did you do that? You’re letting him see your panties, don’t you think that’s a bit of a mixed signal?” The girl blushes a deep red. “…I dunno… I tried to get away… he followed me to some old hallway at the back of the club.”

“Going somewhere a little more private? Sounds like you were trying to get fucked.” Her body twitches in his hands. He clicks his pen again. She lets out a short gasp. “No… was just trying to have fun… told him to leave me alone… he grabbed my neck.” The man lifts his hand up from her tits, holding her by her throat. A firm squeeze makes her face turn pink.

“Did he choke you? Like this?” She can barely breathe. The girl nods, her eyes close. “What happened next?” She shakes her head. “Tell me what happened. It’s important for your therapy.” He chokes her harder. “I won’t let go until you do.” Her head spins. “…kissed me…”

Her therapist drags her in closer, pulling the girl onto his lap. His lips press into hers. His tongue fucks her mouth. She squirms and tries to push him away. He releases the choke, holding the back of her neck to keep kissing her. The girl slowly stops fighting.

“You’re doing good. Let’s keep going. What did you let him do next?”

Drool runs down her chin. Her distant expression is almost lifeless. “Dragged me into the janitor’s closet… shoved me into the corner…” He nods and kisses her cheek. “Okay, we’ll go through that now.”

His powerful hands grip her by the waist. She stumbles as he drags her across the room. He pushes her to the floor in the corner of the room. “I’m sure you were fighting more than that. Don’t leave out any details.” The girl’s eyes start to water. Her terrified breaths are short and raspy. The pen sits on the table by the couch. “Come on, tell me.”

“I was crying, begging him to not do it… I sucked his dick… thought it would keep him from – “ The therapist cuts her off. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He strokes her hair. “It’s okay to cry here. Let it out.” She sobs. “I didn’t want it.” The man unbuckles his belt. She’s back in that closet in the nightclub. Tears run down her face.

The girl is still sobbing as she wraps her lips around his cock. Her head bobs quickly. The therapist grips the back of her head, fucking into her throat. He lets out a satisfied groan as her tears and spit mix, drooling down her slutty outfit. “So, you thought if you made him cum, he wouldn’t fuck you?” He doesn’t look down, but he can feel her nod.

“Try harder, then.”

Stroking his shaft, she sucks off her therapist. The girl does everything she can. Forcing it as deep as it can go, rubbing his balls, running her tongue along the bottom of his shaft. Her facefucking gets more desparate. She knows she’s running out of time.

“Did he cum in your throat?” The man growls. She shakes her head no. He smiles and pushes his glasses up his nose. “Guess he needed more, huh? Keep telling me the story.” The girl gasps for air. “Please, no… just let me suck your cock… please… not that part…” Her therapist lays his dick across her face. “You’re almost there, keep going.”

He uses her tears as lube as he rubs himself across her cheeks. “He pulled my panties down… forced my legs open… he… he…” The man kneels down and follows the script. A sharp tug pulls her cute panties off her legs. “You’re more wet than last time. That’s good. You’ve made a lot of progress.” Her toes point into the air. He buries his cock in her pussy.

She lets out a quiet scream. The girl’s body starts to fight him. He pins her wrists to the floor and ruts into her. “He held you like this, right?” Even as she struggles, she nods. “Was his cock my size?” A pathetic whine. “No, you’re a lot bigger…”

The therapist pounds into his patient. “I’m…” The girl twitches underneath him. “I’m…” Deep hard strokes. “No…” She whimpers. The patient cums on her therapist’s cock. Her head spins as he breaks her. “Did you cum?” The man asks, inches from her face. “Yes…” He keeps going. “I meant the night that it happened.” She looks up at him, filled with shame. “Yes…”

“You’ve done so well. We’re almost all the way through. He came in your cunt, didn’t he?”

The girl’s eyes light up with fear. “No no no… not that part… please, no, stop…” Her warm wet pussy tightens involuntarily around his cock. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? It’s okay to let go.” She tries to fight again. Her fingers claw at his chest before he pins them to the floor again. “Please, no, stop. I want to stop. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Is that what you told him?” He thrusts faster into her slippery hole. “Don’t cum inside of me. Don’t don’t don’t don’t…” She bursts into tears again. “Did he cum in you?” The therapist’s soothing voice makes her shudder. “Yes, but I can’t go through that part… I can’t…” He kisses her, stroking her head like a terrified animal.

The man gasps and lets out a long exhale. She feels his cum flood into her. The catatonic girl stares down at her used pussy as he slowly slides out. The sticky damp of her therapist’s cum pours down her ass. She can see him talking, but all she can hear is pounding in her ears.

He relaxes on the couch. The girl’s tongue cleans his cock. “Did you do this for him?” The man slowly rubs her back. “…nu-uh…” She nuzzles into his bulge. “You’ve come so far. You almost made it all the way through the story before you tried to stop the therapy.”

“I think you’re close to a breakthrough. I’d like to bump you up to two sessions a week for the next little while.” The girl feels his half hard cock twitch in her mouth. He clicks his pen twice. She nods as his hands grope her tits.

[kxsalt]

Stray. Curtains billow in the breeze from his open window. The man closes his front door and kicks off his work boots. Sweaty from the day’s work, he peels off his shirt and feels the fresh air blow across his chest. He takes a moment to soak in the light.

“Meow.”

The man jumps. Unnoticed, a small catgirl lays curled up on the floor below the sill. “Meow” she squeaks again, unfurling her naked body. Her dirty blonde tail catches the sunbeam. “Hey! Where did you come from…” She crawls towards him and nuzzles her face against his jeans. “…you’re not supposed to be here, are you lost? Missing?” The catgirl lays at his feet.

Shower water runs over his toned body. He scrubs his body. Usually he would still be thinking about work. Today he thinks about his uninvited guest. Underneath the faucet, the man doesn’t hear the bathroom door open. Insistent meowing catches his attention. The girl sits on the bathmat, watching him bathe. “Silly kitty…”

The cat watches him dry off. She follows him to his room and watches him put on fresh clothes. She watches him sit down on the couch and make a phone call. Laying across his lap, she nibbles on his fingers. The phone at the sanctuary rings two dozen times before someone picks up.

“Uhh… we’re kind of overflowing with catgirls right now… It’s pretty much chaos down here… Hey, put that down! That’s not going to fit there! I’m sorry, can you keep her for a few days until we have some more space?”

The man hangs up. “Looks like you’re going to be staying here for a bit…” She gnaws on his hand. “Meow meow…”

A small dish of food and another for water. The girl’s round ass sticks up in the air as she slurps up her dinner. He can’t help but watch it wiggle. Fluffy tail dances around with little jiggles of her butt. “At least it looks like you’ve been getting fed.” She lets out a happy trill. Stretching out her back, her tail flops up. Her juicy thighs spread open, showing him her pussy. “Meow…” The man stares as he watches her eat.

He assembles a small nest of blankets on his bedroom floor. The catgirl ignores it and hops into his bed instead. “Hey, that’s not yours.” The man chides the small pet. She gives him a blank stare then curls up on the mattress. He folds immediately. Taking off his clothes, the man climbs into bed with the naked girl. “Fine. Good night, kitty.” He turns out the light.

Fifteen seconds of silence and darkness. The catgirl pounces on him. “OOF!” He gasps in surprise. She bounces off the bed to the floor, then back up again. In the confusion, she wiggles underneath the covers. “Hey! What’s gotten into you?” He can feel her soft body rubbing against him. He feels her hard teeth sink into his foot. “OW!”

The light is switched back on. She plays innocent, flopping onto her back and spreading her legs. “You little miscreant…” The catgirl grins. “You want to play, is that it?” She mews softly, pawing at her thighs.

An old drawstring from some worn out sweatpants dangles in front of the kitten’s face. Her bored expression stares past the string. “You wanna play?” The man wiggles the makeshift toy. She baps at it once and lets off a disappointed mew. “Look, that’s all we have. Maybe I can get you a different toy tomorrow, but it’s late.”

The catgirl flops onto her side and stretches out her body. She nuzzles her face against his bare cock. “Mew mew…” The man breathes deeply. His cock starts to swell against her cheeks.

“Kitty…” He mumbles. The girl’s mouth opens and latches onto his cock. The man gasps softly. Rolling fully onto her back, she sucks on the kneeling man. His eyes roam down her chin, across her neck, her pretty tits, her wet pussy. His cock fills her throat. A faint bulge in her airway as the catgirl works him deeper.

It’s been a while. A low groan escapes his lips. The kitty starts to masturbate. He can’t help but grope the stray kitten’s tits. His hips start to rock, slowly thrusting into her mouth. She rubs faster. Spit smears her face. The man is moments away from cumming in her throat.

The catgirl pops her lips off his dick. She rolls onto her hands and knees and hops off the bed. “Hey, where are you going…?” The kitty curls up in her blanket bed on the floor. “…seriously…?” He watches her start to fall asleep. His cock aches. Following her to the nest, he strokes himself over her naked body. “Hey, come on, you’re almost done… Finish me off.”

She doesn’t move. A slight yawn. “Come on… just like you were doing…” The catgirl doesn’t respond. His dick twitches in his hand. Hesitantly, the man holds her hair and pushes his cock back into her mouth. She doesn’t resist, resuming her sucking. He keeps a grip on her, panting as her little tongue works along his shaft.

He’s close again. She sucks faster. The man relaxes and releases his hold on the kitty. Her mouth slides off and she rolls over. “God damn it, you little brat, keep sucking…” The girl stares up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I said suck, kitty.” She doesn’t move. “Spread your legs.” The catgirl stays curled up in her blankets.

Frustrated, the man climbs on top of her. Pushing her legs open, he can feel her become putty in his hands. The kitten gives no resistance. His swollen cock rubs against her wet pussy. One good thrust and he’s deep inside the catgirl. “Mew…” She whimpers. He pins her wrists above her head. The girl doesn’t push back at all.

She takes his cock like a ragdoll. The man takes out his sexual frustration on the little cat. She’s the warmest thing he’s ever stuck his cock in. Letting go of her arms, he focuses on thrusting into her. The catgirl starts to squirm away. “No you don’t.” He growls, grabbing her by the hips. Immediately she goes limp in his hands. Keeping his hold, she lets him pound into her.

Faster and faster, he starts to worry about the docile kitten. Her eyes closed, he can’t read her expression. He feels her quivering. “Is that too rough, kitty?” Short weak gasps. “Me-meow…” He thumps a bit harder, still holding her hips. “What does that mean?” The kitten’s eyes open, her expression is dazed and blurry.

The man leans in close to her, feeling her quivering again. I hope this isn’t too much. Poor little thing. He presses his lips into her neck. He feels that slow shudder. She’s purring.

The kitten twitches. Fingernail claws dig into his chest. He feels her soak his cock. The catgirl makes biscuits on his chest as he ruts into her. Tiny pathetic squeaks and meows float to his ears. The kitten cums. He kisses her flushed face as he finishes deep in the pet’s warm cunny. Tangled in each other, they sleep in the blankets on the floor.

A little bell jingles as she sprints around the house. Her pink collar is tight around her neck. She somersaults across the living room floor. The man talks to the owner of the sanctuary over the phone.

“I’m glad you’re going to keep her. I don’t think we could handle another right now. The poor dogboys are exhausted.”

He hangs up the phone and pats his lap. “Here, kitty.” She frolicks on the carpet, ignorning him. The man lets out a short sigh. Standing up, he walks over to the collared girl. “Bend over for me, okay darling?” She flops around on the floor instead.

The man grabs her tail. Lifting it up, he pushes his hard cock into her. “Meow meow…” His kitten immediately relaxes in his hands. The docile catgirl takes his cock. Picking her up, she nuzzles into his neck as he thrusts into the soft pet. “Mew… meow… meow…” Support my writing on Ko-Fi

[virginpervert]

Thinking about the first time I got dicked down...

I was 18 and only had pentrative sex once, I had met up with people online before to do some hand and mouth stuff, but I was bored and just wanted to know what it was like to be held down and be fucked. I wanted experience.

He wasn't that old, but he was old enough to have worked his way up in the military to some high ranking position I didn't understand when he explained. He was at least a foot taller than me and strong.

He drove me out to an abandoned construction area, and basically shoved me into the backseat where he got on top of me. He was so heavy, I tried to playfully wiggle away and he just laughed at me and pinned me down even harder, putting all of his weight on me while he pulled all my clothes off and roughly groped at my chest. He left bruises all over my tits, and everytime I got too whimpery he smacked me right across the face, told me to shut up since no once would ever hear me out here.

I knew his dick would hurt, but I was so overwhelmed and I didn't want to wait. I begged him to just put it inside me, but he decided he knew better and gently fucked himself into me slowly, stretching me inch by inch while I writhed and cried beneath him. After awhile of his tiny, painful thrusts he leaned down and asked if it still hurt. Before I could say anything he pushed all the way inside me in one stab, and I literally screamed. He grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face hard into the leather seat, and pulled all the way back before ramming in again. I could feel every inch of his cock bruising inside me, back and forth and back and forth.

I was fighting him, or at least trying to. I couldn't breathe, I had never felt that used and abused before, it was a survival instinct more than anything else. He pulled me up against him so he could keep his teeth on my neck, and open palm slap my t clit until i was hicupping from the tears. Every time he spanked my poor abused cunt I flinched, and every time I flinched he bit down harder, all while still fucking in and out of my tender young pussy.

He used me like that for a very long time, I couldn't move when he was on top of me and I couldn't check the clock. I could tell he was getting close when he put me in a headlock, held me down on my stomach and fucked me so hard the car shook. I was clear headed enough to remind him I wasn't on birth control, that he had agreed to pull out. He didnt slow down at all, and after another brutal minute he leaned down next to my ear. Only responded to my stuttering with two words; "Stay down."

I must have clenched around him in fear because he moaned and pulled his arm around my throat tighter, his hips slapping against my ass loudly. I begged him, please don't, stop, you can't do this to me- but he got faster and faster, throbbed and pulsed so deep inside me. He cooed in my ear while he raped his cum into my cervix, kissed the tears streaming down my face.

I was ready to go home after that, but he wasn't. I got a lot of good experience that night. He gave me no other option. ♡

[virginpervert]

Home intruder raping you in your own bed and holding a gun up to your temple, tells you that if you want to live through this you have to call him daddy while he breeds you. You beg him to stop of course, plead and cry uncontrollably while he forces his cock into unwilling holes, but you're too terrified to disobey.

He just thinks "Daddy no-! Fuck, p-please, stop, I promise I won't tell anyone, daddy, ah-! God, no, please- daddy!" Sounds sexier, that's all.

[burlybulls-deactivated20230618]

[danishfreeuse]

when he asks “does it hurt?” and you say “yes” with tears in your eyes and he groans and keeps going. Maybe he even picks up the pace to really make sure those tears spill over >>>>

[virginpervert]

The new law was simple, and passed virtually unopposed. If a body can orgasm during a sexual encounter, the sex can not legally be called rape.

...

Dad who climbs on top of you bed, grabbing your head and forcing his mouth against yours in a sudden kiss. You're so surprised you forget to fight for a moment, feeling his heavy body sink you further into the mattress as one hand pulls up your shirt and gropes at your body. When his tongue pushes your mouth open your mind finally catches up to the present and you jerk away– though you couldn't get very far.

"Dad! What the fuck are you- ah, dad-!" You shrieked as he buried his head into your neck, nipping at your throat despite how you try to twist away. Suddenly he shifts, pushing your legs apart and slotting his erection against your crotch, and you realize with horror that only a thin layer of cotton underwear separated you from your fathers frighteningly hard and pulsing cock.

You started to scream but he kissed you again so hard you couldn't even breath, and without any warning he started grinding. Up and down, up and down. You whimpered, completely dominated and terrified, feeling your hot little body start to betray you. The way you could feel his cock head nudge against your clit, over and over and over–

"Yeah, you like that baby?" He cooed, a little mockingly. A strong hand pressed over your mouth, he kissed the tip of your nose and started grinding harder into you. You struggled, kicking and squirming and trying to break free from his hold. He smiled. "I got something for you sweetheart."

Without warning he jams something hard right into your clit. In an instant it buzzes to life, vibrating harshly agasint your throbbing bundle of nerves. You start to sob, truly, so overwhelmed with fear and revulsion and guiltiest most instense arousal you had ever experienced. He trails the vibrator in little circles over your clit and leans in to look you in the eyes. "What'd you say? You want more, daddy?"

You struggled again, screaming from behind his hand, jolting as you inadvertently rubbed your crotch against the toy and him. Suddenly he ripped your flimsy little underwear down from your hips, separating you from the vibrator for only a second before pressing it into your clit again, reaching down to pull back the hood and shoving it back against you. Turned up the intensity and rubbed you in violent strokes that left your legs shaking. Then, as your writhed and moaned, you felt the unmistakable pressure his cock at your entrance.

His hand slid from your face to your throat, forcing you even harder into the bed. He rocked your bodies together, nudging a little further with every movement. You started babbling, begging. "Daddy, no, please- ahh, ah, I'm your- it hurts daddy, please don't, I don't want it, I don't want it-"

"Of course you want it." He hummed, tightening his hold on your throat until you had to focus on pulling as much air in as your could. "Baby if you didn't want it, you wouldn't be wet right now. You wouldn't let me in."

He pressed into you, pushing his cock inside his child. He pulled out an inch and thrusted into you even more, drawing betrayed little yelps and moans as he slipped himself inside you, his cock hard and unyielding. The stab of his intrusion was overwhelmed by the searing forceful pleasure still buzzing at your clit, your vaginal walls spasmed and and pulsed, drawing the man attacking you even further inside.

"Seee? Is the the response somebody has when they're being raped?" Your whole cunt fluttered at the word. You hadn't said it, you hadn't even been confident enough to admit it to yourself yet. He must have felt your reaction because he brought his weight down even further on you, driving into you at a different angle that allowed him to fully bottom out.

Panic gripped you. No. No you couldn't- not from him, not now, not ever. Coming on your fathers cock, in your own bed– but you couldn't hold back any longer, and he was only ploughing your opened cunt harder and faster with ever wet drag of him inside you. You thrashed as hard as you could with one last burst of energy, but he kept the toy pressed right against you to the point of bruising pain. He wanted you to cum. He wanted to feel his baby cum around him, now at the point of hyperventilation. It hurt.

"D-Dad..." Your pussy contracting, you losing whatever control and power you felt you still possibly had, waves of horrible, intense pleasure racking your body that didn't stop. He wouldn't let it stop. He fucked you into your orgasm and kept going. You lay back, eyes unfocused, sure that he was never going to end, that you would never be free from this. At your ragdolling he collapsed fully on top of you, and you hopelessly realized that he wasn't wearing any kind of protection. Fully crushed beneath his weight, he doesn't turn the machine off until he decides he's satisfied.

[hellmonstercock]

thinking about being a lil younger and driving out of state alone for the first time and my car breaks down at a rest stop and a helpful older man helps me call a tow service and offers to wait with me and then “helpfully” pins me in a stall in the bathroom and pops my cherry even though i keep telling him it hurts and i don’t want to

he leaves and of course the towing company never comes, he didn’t call them. The next trucker i ask for help ends up raping me in the back seat of my car. Next i get fucked on the pavement by a man who comes so much inside me that it practically pours out, and pushes it all back inside. They’re all so much larger and stronger than me that its like they don’t even notice me begging for them to stop, or at least to pleaee not cum inside me

[lilabcpup]

dad dropping me off at my uncle's house for the first weekend of summer break, telling me to "be a good girl and listen to your uncle, no ifs, ands, or buts, got it?" knowing full well how i wouldn't dare not listen to a grown up and also knowing full well how often that is going to be exploited over the next couple days and giving their brother a wink. feeling my uncle play with my hair as we both wave goodbye to my dad, getting so excited the second he asks "wanna have a popsicle kiddo?" because its sooo hot outside. lapping at it greedily, letting the sugary juices drip down my chin n onto my little tank top, but my uncle doesnt mind, he just watches with a smile, occasionally palming something in his pants, and ever so often reaching out to swipe a bit of the sweetness off my chin and lick it off his own thumb. as soon as i finish the last of my popsicle i immediately ask if i can pretty please have one more, please uncle? he gives me a laugh and fully settles one of his big hands on a bulge in his jeans, "i have another kind of popsicle you might like sweetheart, it's not ice cold, but it's perfect for any weather, it never ends, and there's a surprise filling" and i immediately start to nod eagerly because it sounds like magic n i dont even question when he starts to unzip his crotch and reaches in to get me my special popsicle

[toddlrfawn]

noooo i do not wanna be a housewife i wanna be a house DAUGHTER u hav to feed me change me bathe me n EVERYTHING… ໒꒰ྀི ˶> ˕ <˶꒱ྀི১

[dadbaits]

"Please, Daddy, stop! You said only the tip!" said she, feeling her father's cock violently ravaging her tiny cunt.

"Sorry baby, you feel way too good. I can't stop—" replied her rapist father.

"Daddy, you said that the tip wasn't cheating! This is cheating! I'm ch-cheating on m-my— b-b-boyfriend!"

Her words were starting to sound slurred. The pleasure of her daddy's dick violating her insides wasn't like anything she'd experienced before.

Who could blame her, the poor child? Her boyfriend was nowhere near as big as her father, after all. Nowhere as experienced either.

Unbeknownst to her, the compatibility between a dad and a daughter doubled the pleasure she felt every time he pushed deep inside her, kissing her cervix and stretching her to his shape.

Every thrust a new and agonizingly louder moan of pure heat, pleasure building up to a level never reached before by the poor and innocent daughter...

Perhaps not so innocent, considering the countless nights she spent masturbating thinking about his big, hairy daddy. And once more, who could blame her? It's only natural for a daughter to want to fuck her dad, too.

The night was long, passionate, lustful. The way daddy ravaged his little girl was something neither of them would ever forget.

And while daddy had mommy and daughter had her boyfriend, from that day on, dad knew his true woman was his daughter, and the little girl knew the only man for her was her dad.

It became their dirty little secret. All morals went out the window each time their lips touched.

No one ever knew whose adult cock that minx, that little succubus began worshiping since that very night.

No one ever knew whose cunt became the sole dumpster of semen for kind father.

[daddysdirtywhores]

Kidnapped and raped! Every girls dream!

To be Daddy’s good girl, reach out.

Daddy’s kik and snapchat: lon3sinner

[gibsonboytoy]

passing out in the tent after miles of hiking with your dad. waking up to his fat cock gently sliding in and out while he rocks back and forth on top of you, feeling his belly pressing down on you and his beard and breath on the back of your neck, softly grunting when he feels your slick cunt tighten as you come to and realize whats happening

[roughlytender-deactivated201212]

[mommy-muaw]

Uncle bending me over the bathtub after he sneaks up to my room during the family bbq, he says I’m the only one that can make his feel this good! 💕

[p4neminem]

Little Mouse

PART 4: Buried in the Fields Under the Marigolds

Contents: NON-CON, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Alternate Universe, Peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow, Smut, Abuse of Authority, Degradation, Predator/Prey Dynamic, Theft, Prostitution, Misogyny, Blackmail, Emotional Manipulation, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Stalking, Corporal Punishment, Controlling & Possessive Behavior, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hanging, Gun Kink, Dehumanization, Power Imbalance, Trauma, District 12 (Hunger Games), Manhandling, Pregnancy Scares, Outdoor Sex, Poverty

← PART 3 || PART 5 (in progress) →

A/N: Please make sure you're comfortable with gunplay smut, noncon, (and an unreal amount of dehumanization) before reading! This chapter was beta-read by the lovely @coffeeblyth on ao3 and tumblr ❤️ (if you enjoy coriolanus fanfiction, check out their work)! I appreciate y'all so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Phoebe’s POV

 

“It’s too early to pick them.” Ezra’s shoulders slumped.

They were kneeling beside a patch of flowery tubers down in the meadow by the lake. Swamp potatoes, most liked to call them—but if you’d ask her, ‘Katniss’ had a nicer ring to it.

“Once they’re ready, we’ll have a feast,” Phoebe decided, patting her friend’s shoulder to cheer him up, as he’d been banking on harvesting those for his signature dish.

When they were kids, they used to come here all the time. It was their little secret, their haven sequestered away from it all. Here among the lush ferns, where the air was sweet and fresh, one could almost forget they were in this coal-dusted wasteland that was Twelve. Here you could forget your woes and let your troubles lie.

Back before June was born (and Phoebe was not glued to her side rearing her), most of their free time was spent here, foraging and hunting, swimming and enjoying their bounty under the shade of the willow tree. Fruits were brought home to Ezra’s ma, who baked them into delicious sweets.

This perimeter was strictly off limits, though that rule was hardly enforced when there were no Peacekeepers stationed here to keep guard. Nor was there any fence to deter people. Most stayed away, fearing the wildlife in the woods: bears and wolves—beasts that could devour you whole. Some Peacekeepers, she was sure, turned a blind eye since plenty of the commodities they paid a pretty penny for in the Hob came from here.

Ezra was an excellent hunter. He learned from the best—from his pa—who’d taught her pa how to hunt. He’d tried teaching her how to hunt too, but she had a terrible aim and possessed her ma’s sentimental disposition. She wanted to heal those rabbits, not eat them. The idea of fashioning their pelts into garments was barbaric to her. She’d been in tears when she learned something had to die so she could eat her favorite stew, but she couldn’t afford to be picky. She either ate the game or starved. Either wore the fur coat unless she wanted to freeze to death in the winter. Winters in the Seam were notoriously harsh when their homes were so poorly insulated.

Everything had a price. Warmth had a price. Security had a price.

Back then, they were pretty well-fed as far as Seam folks went thanks to their pa’s.

Ma forbade Phoebe from coming down to the meadow, but was too busy working odd jobs to keep an eye on her. She was no fun, always so stuck up, and perhaps that was the town girl in her. Though she’d married Pa and moved to the Seam, becoming one with him, she held onto her old quirks—cleaning and decorating obsessively in an attempt to make their home appear more put-together. Everything had to be perfect and colorful, but there was only so much one could do when their homes resembled shacks. She hated their place, but it was government-issued and there was no arguing with the government. It was a far cry from her childhood home, which was spacious and built with solid cement.

Phoebe had been there once—just once—when she was gravely ill and Ma had tearfully pleaded with her estranged parents for them to help foot the medical bill. It was a matter of life or death, she’d stressed. There was a flicker of softness in her grandparents’ eyes for a moment before it faded into disgust, like Ma had dragged a sickly rodent onto their doorstep, instead of their own flesh and blood. During her stay there, all Phoebe sensed in them was contempt, and something else she hadn’t been able to comprehend then. There they all feasted on delicacies Seam people could ordinarily not afford: bread—real bread—and chicken. Stuff people fought over in the Hob, and she’d know because she used to tag along with her pa on his trips. Their standard fare, conversely, was gruel-like stews made from rabbits and squirrels that they forced down. Food meant for fuel, not pleasure. Indulgence was a foreign concept to them.

The food was heavenly, so heavenly that Phoebe had eaten like a slob, forgoing her utensils to the distaste of her grandparents. Afterwards, they feasted on cake. Real cake with the cream. The place was twice the size of theirs—still tiny, but a palace in comparison to her imaginative mind. She’d been too fatigued to explore it in full, but what little she was permitted to see was mind-blowing.

To think that was her ma’s childhood home.

She must’ve been filthy rich or something.

No wonder she was miserable in the Seam. The fact she was living there voluntarily—not in the heart of town—was nothing if not a testament to how much she must’ve loved Pa. To leave it all behind for him.

After Phoebe recovered, they went back to being strangers again.

“Why don’t they like us?” a young Phoebe had asked her pa, tugging at his sleeve. She’d been hurt that when she’d smiled at her grandparents from across the street, they’d merely turned their noses up and kept walking, as if she were as insignificant as a speck of dirt on their boots. Ma had to hold her back by the collar to keep her from chasing after them.

“It’s complicated, sugarplum.” Pa had offered a wistful smile before he ruffled her blonde hair the way he always did, affectionately. Those golden waves, like woven threads of sunlight, were inherited from her ma. She had her hazel eyes too, her spitting image in every way—right down to her dimples and how she crinkled her nose when confused. “You know, your ma used to be a town girl,” Pa had told her. “Her folks aren’t thrilled that she married a Seam boy.”

“Why?” Phoebe furrowed her brows. ‘Why’ was her favorite word and she loved to question everything, her mind a sponge eager to absorb what knowledge it could. She inherited that from her pa—the only one who had indulged her ever-curious mind. Their summers were filled with picnics and nonsensical games like ‘Would You Rather’ as he endeavored to match her energy.

She’d asked her ma what it was about Pa that she’d been drawn to. Was it his voice when he sang? Whenever he did, the birds stopped to listen. Was it his humor that she liked? He’d crack the most morbid jokes sometimes, and Ma would give them both a pointed look for daring to laugh. But laughter was a contagious thing. Sometimes, she couldn’t help but join along in their merriment. Ma had confessed that what she loved most about him was how freely he lived—marching to the beat of his own drum. All her life, she’d been raised to be that perfect daughter. To do whatever she was told, without question. But then he came along and taught her what it was like to live for yourself.

Oh, to go back to those days when they used to weave flower crowns and dig for Katniss down by the lake. When the only monsters were those under her bed, and her parents kept them away. Until she learned the real monsters were the ones in human skin.

Why didn’t her grandparents like Pa? He was a wonderful person, she’d thought. What was so bad about belonging to the Seam? He worked hard—harder than anyone—coming home so fatigued, he practically passed out at the end of each day. All to keep food on the table, but he took it, like all things, in stride.

The circumstances that sowed those bitter seeds of contempt, she’d discovered once she was older, were more nuanced than that.

Ma had her rather young—when she was just seventeen. A baby herself, and apparently she was to marry another. Mr. Lipp, the mayor, she’d confessed once in a drunken, half-conscious stupor, many years later. That had to have been a joke, but Phoebe’s pa had long since been food for the worms when she’d learned that, so she couldn’t ask him if that was true. She’d gone on about the skeletons in her closet, or rather, how her daughter was the product of a tryst. Her parents had eloped—as much as a couple could when there was no getting out of this district. In this case, they fled to the other side of town, where they wallowed in their shame.

They were in love, so it was fine. Love conquers all, she’d thought. However, that came with a heavy price: a great fortune and a future of prestige sacrificed. It was no wonder her grandparents were so upset with them. She wondered if whenever they looked at their daughter, all they saw was their failure to raise her ‘right’.

It was one thing to turn down a man as rich as Mr. Lipp, but another to elope with a Seam boy.

Town folks didn’t yolk with Seam dwellers that way. From a young age, she’d observed a hierarchy among her peers in the schoolhouse: they liked to divide into cliques and stick to ‘their kind’. She thought of those times she was side-eyed and gossiped about. People like her, caught between both sides, usually were.

Her grandparents hadn’t shown her any kindness since that one exception they made when she was at death’s door. That was a one-time favor—they made it clear when they refused to take her and June in after their ma had passed. She was, in their opinion, old enough to take care of herself and her sister. Little Junebug.

“We’re in luck.” Ezra tapped Phoebe’s shoulder, then guided her to a wild patch. “Look what I found.” Before them was a bounty of strawberries ripe for the picking. He waited, hands folded behind his back, seemingly pleased with himself for finding these.

“Oh, June’s gonna love these!” Phoebe brightened and knelt before the patch.

They were going all out today—hunting and foraging in preparation for June’s eighth birthday, which was days away. They weren’t eating all of their game. Some of it was for trading down at the Hob. Some of it would pay for June’s medicine—those useless tonics which weren’t helping much, but it was better than nothing.

It rubbed her the wrong way, Ezra’s insistence with providing for her and June—as if her efforts weren’t enough to suffice. As if he were implying she was failing to give her sister the care she needed. He was incorrigible as ever with his big heart, despite her insisting she had it covered. Guilt soured in her stomach each time he did something nice for her, as if she were taking advantage of his kindness. She was her ma’s girl through and through, relying on the mercy of others.

“I’ll bake her a strawberry cake,” Phoebe announced. The cake would be a sad excuse for one, but it was the thought that counted, with what she could afford. June had never tasted a good cake anyway, so she wouldn’t know what she was missing. So easy to please. But she deserved much more. Everything she couldn’t give her.

It had been a while since June came down here, she thought. Perhaps they could have a birthday picnic. When she was a babe, she used to tie her to her back so she could watch her while foraging, but that’d become less practical since she screamed like a banshee, demanding to be set free. It didn't get any better once the little rascal started walking. Her energetic footsteps scared off all their prey.

Once, she had a powerful set of lungs, and so loved to sing gibberish. She’d be a good singer someday, Ezra had jested. If not that, then a mighty good heckler.

They filled their bags to the brim.

Usually, they walked home together after their excursions into the woods.

But this time, she told him, “You don’t have to walk me home. I can make it back myself.”

Which was a rather odd thing to say when they lived on the same street and had to walk in the same direction anyway. How else was she to tell him not to follow her? Saying that outright would invite suspicion, and as is, she was in hot water with him lately.

This wasn’t their usual routine.

She’d been nothing but unusual lately—evading him at every turn, with every excuse under the sun not to see him. She never greeted him with open arms anymore, instead paling at his presence. How was she to tell him, her best friend, that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore? It was for his own good. For his safety.

She’d done a poor job pushing him away. Him standing here beside her was proof of that. No, she hadn’t invited him to go foraging with her, but they always went together, ever since that time she was attacked by a wild dog. She’d been terrified to set foot into such perilous territory without him, who would protect her should any harm fall. He was her eyes and ears. Always.

They liked to go on Saturdays—usually they’d rendezvous at her place before going together. Lately, she’d turned down the offer of going with him. So he was here because…? There were two plausible reasons. The more likely one being: it was a Saturday morning, after all. Two: if he hadn’t come here of his own volition, perhaps a little birdie had told him where she was. June. Her sister, bless her heart, who could never keep a secret.

He’d gotten straight to work, foraging with her, neither of them willing to address the palpable tension lingering in the air. Some things were easier left unsaid. His presence alone and that expression he wore told her he wouldn’t be easy to shake off her tail. Lately, worry was etched deep into his fatigued face, and he hesitated before speaking, as if words were caught on the tip of his tongue, but he was trying hard to obey her wishes and not pry.

But her business had always been his business.

She thought to the handful of times when he beat the living shit out of someone for her, and she had to rein him in like a dog on a leash. Only she could rein him in. Sometimes. Sometimes it didn't work.

This time it had to work. She couldn’t afford for him to go ballistic on her, or rather her ‘beau’, if he was compelled to assume he was hurting her. Which he wasn’t. But how would it look to him? A bruise wasn’t much, but he’d been thrown off seeing that little on her wrists. That was nothing compared to the rest of her body.

“I’m heading the same way. Won’t be no trouble,” Ezra insisted, to which she sighed. Of course, she anticipated that response.

“Just…” She gestured vaguely, fumbling for the words that wouldn’t come, “…don’t follow me home.” That didn’t sound concerning at all. Leave it to her to talk before thinking. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us. That’s all.” Since when did she care what people thought? She attempted to rush off—

But he was quicker.

He intercepted her with ease, a tall wall in her path, a shield blocking out the harsh sunlight. “We need to talk.”

“Maybe later. I’m busy today.” She side-stepped him, but he copied her movements, to her chagrin. It was like a dance, and a rather ridiculous one at that. “Ezra,” she huffed.

“We have to talk now,” he stressed. “You’ve been acting strange, Phoebe. What’s going on with you?” His voice was as unwavering as stone, booming amid the quiet rustle of leaves surrounding them.

“Nothing,” she blurted out, never good with confrontation like that. There was a certain tell, he’d once explained, that helped him discern if she was lying. Whenever her voice went up a pitch (the way it did now), he knew. She silently cursed herself for letting that slip.

“Nothing, my foot,” he remarked, lowering his blood-tipped bow. “You’ve been avoiding me. I thought you were busy, but… do you know what June told me the last time I tried stopping by?” He looked off to the side and gave a mirthless laugh, the bitterness of it making her chest ache. She swallowed; she could never trust her sister to keep a secret. “She told me she wasn’t supposed to open the door if I came by. To pretend nobody was home.” He let that sink in for a moment. “What’s up with that?”

She hated it, having to push him away like this, but it was for his own good. A preemptive measure, in case her ‘beau’ happened to make good on his threat to harm her friend. In the quietude that followed, she’d never felt so scrutinized. Her throat constricted as if any word she’d say would somehow be heard by whatever was lurking beyond the brush. That feeling of being watched had never left her since he entered her life.

Coriolanus Snow.

The thought of him made her stomach churn as her breakfast threatened to make a reappearance while his words replayed in her head, when he was so close, his lips brushing her ear. A subtle touch, yet so disarming. It rattled her very bones.

I’d think twice about biting the hand that feeds.

He didn’t mean what he said. That was what she told herself, what she tried to convince herself, but Coriolanus had already proven he was capable of unspeakable things. The scars on her back were a permanent reminder of that. The ever-present ache in her body and the rawness festering in her was proof.

But he couldn’t know. Ezra.

“He doesn’t like us being so close,” she confessed, figuring there was no point beating around the bush anymore, now that she was cornered here.

“He,” Ezra remarked dryly. “That Peacekeeper who keeps coming around?”

He never said his name. ‘That Peacekeeper’ was a good enough name to him. They had a good chuckle though, when they heard June butcher his name trying to say it. Cornelius. What a ridiculous name, he’d mused out loud. Where’d that come from? What’s with his strange accent? The way he lilted his words at odd points and hissed like a snake trying to enunciate.

She told him he was from the Capitol. They were both left to theorize why on earth a Capitolite would be here willingly, in the shittiest district of all places. Cornelius here was a mystery.

She nodded, confirming his identity.

“Don’t you find anything wrong with that?” he pressed on, advancing forward, and she stepped back, putting some distance between them.

“I told you to stay out of it,” she murmured tersely, glancing at her feet. “We’re happy. Don’t mess things up for us. It’s best if we stop spending so much time together.” But what time they did spend was few and far between with his job in the mines. They were working him like a dog, just like they had his pa—and hers.

“You’re happy.” He tossed his bow right beside his bag on the ground, haphazardly. Before she knew it, he’d seized her wrist. She attempted to pull away, but it took little effort for him to roll back her long sleeve to reveal the finger-shaped bruises marring it. In her shock, she did nothing, while he rolled up her other sleeve, too. “Is that what you call happy?”

She blinked, her vision blurring, her ears ringing.

“I’m not mad at you, Phoebe,” he stressed delicately, sensing her emotion so well, the way he always did. “I just want to know that you’re okay. We’re family. We look after each other.”

“Me n’ June can take care of ourselves just fine, so you focus on your folks.” Her voice came out so hollow as she fixed a soft smile on her face, despite those words feeling like glass shoved down her throat.

I’m alright, her ma would always tell her. Such a convincing actress, always so patient despite her loved ones prying. It took years for Phoebe to connect the pieces that something was horribly awry with her ma, as it never quite sat right with her how she flinched at sudden movements. Shutting down when someone so much as raised their voice at her. Not to mention those bruises and cigarette burns she caught on her while she was changing, the bedroom door cracked ajar. That was just the surface of it.

It seemed the implication didn't go over his head, when his gaze darkened. “Is he… Are you giving him…”

She swallowed, ripping her hands away in that moment where Ezra’s grip eased. “He helps us. He brings June medicine.”

It was everything her friend did for her, except he required something in return. With him, everything had a price. It was a small price to pay, she decided, if it meant taking care of her sister. If she truly cared for her, she ought to swallow her pride. Better off humiliated than risk losing her.

“It’s worse than I thought,” Ezra uttered under his breath, fingers combing through his raven hair as he looked off to the side to gather his bearings. Then his attention returned in full force, along with his voice. “You don't have to live like this, Phoebe. You don’t have to be like your ma—”

“It’s not that simple,” she bristled. Her ma could’ve let her starve if she wanted to. Could’ve let her wither away while she used her depression over losing Pa as an excuse. She gave herself some time to grieve in her catatonic state, not eating, not sleeping or drinking, not bathing, while the neighbors cared for her daughter. Until she picked herself up and decided that was enough. This was her life. Her burden to bear, not anyone else’s.

She did what she had to do to survive. It wasn’t enough, whatever she scraped together from her odd jobs. Not when they had a scare—Phoebe’s health declining again, almost like it had when she had to lug her to her grandparents’ doorstep to beg for help. The second time around, they were not so gracious. They slammed the door in their faces.

By some miracle and a dozen vials downed, they pulled through, and when she grew older, Phoebe tried not to dwell on what her ma had to do to afford the exorbitant price of those tonics. After that victory, the universe had not been as forgiving to them anymore. Sometimes it felt like some unseen force was keeping score. For one blessing it gave, another it took away.

That realization came with the arrival of that Peacekeeper—that man who took everything from them. Who took her ma away, somewhere she couldn’t reach. All she had left to remember her by was that baby. June. Little Junebug, who’d never asked to be brought into a world like this, but while she was still young and innocent, Phoebe thought she could cloak her eyes and ears. Let her live like a child should—with a full belly, in a safe and loving place to stay, with whatever her heart desired, if it was in her power to obtain it.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” he pleaded, half frustrated, half perplexed. “It’s one thing not to have a choice, but you have one. You have me.”

“You already work yourself half to death as is.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t wanna add to that. Everyone has to do their part in a family, don’t they? Let me pull my weight.” Her voice faltered. “It’s my choice to make.”

She was hurting for business now more than ever after she was outed as a thief. Thievery was in poor taste—a surefire way to have your community look down on you. Sure, you could say you were doing it out of desperation for a loved one, but you don’t steal from one another. Not when you’re all in the same shoes. No one wanted to buy her trinkets or sweets—no one wanted her to do their laundry. Getting hired at any establishment was out of the question with her sticky fingers, and menial jobs at the Peacekeeper’s base were already taken.

What else did she have to offer that anyone would want?

Why, of course, herself.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Fuck that,” he fumed, so stubborn about it. “I’m not lettin’ you do that to yourself. Next time you see that bastard, you tell him to fuck right off, you hear me?” he pointed at her.

“Ezra—” She held her hand up in an attempt to placate him—

“If you won’t tell him, I will.”

“Don’t.” It was sweltering outside, the humid air all but suffocating her. “Don’t start anything. Just drop it, please.” There was no smooth way to go about this, was there? Her dear friend was incorrigible, always the protector, even at his own expense. But she couldn’t have him caught in the crossfire of the mess she created.

“This conversation ain’t over,” he reminded her, as if she didn’t full well know how persistent he could be. At least he left her alone after having the last word. At least he walked off without her, leaving her by herself to ruminate in peace.

How on earth was she going to smooth this over?

Coriolanus’ POV

He came by whenever he wanted to, really.

Passing by to grab a drink when he knew his little mouse would be home, as he’d memorized her schedule. It annoyed her to no end because surely he had some water in his flask. Surely he could mooch it off of someone else. The barely drinkable water she offered was subpar compared to the ice-cold water he enjoyed in the barracks.

To his surprise, when he showed up after breakfast, she wasn’t home. As usual, her ratty-looking cat greeted him with a hiss, then jumped off the mat when he approached, left with no choice but to make way. The door cracked open and a familiar pair of blue-gray eyes peeked at him through the gap.

June.

“Good morning,” he greeted, making sure to smile to avoid intimidating her, as vermin tended to be skittish. “I come bearing gifts.”

At the mention of gifts, the door swung wide open. “What did you bring?” a rather eager June asked, bouncing on her feet. His presence—his gifts—brought such joy to her life where there was little elsewise. In her fatigued state, she somehow managed to appear so bright. It had taken some time for her to make it to the door and she was out of breath as they spoke. He could hear her struggling to breathe, which was pitiful. It reminded him of how many took breathing, an ability so intrinsic, for granted.

“You know how it works,” he reminded her. A question for a gumdrop, or something like that. He liked to toss them to her one by one, and she caught them in her mouth like a pet eager for treats. The system they had going had worked wonders for him.

June sighed, stepping aside for him to enter. If she had it her way, she’d snatch the pouch from him and take off. Eat it all at once, like a greedy little rat. He knew she wasn’t genuinely interested in talking to him, but she put up with him for the gifts. The marshmallows and gumdrops, the chalk to color with—it went on.

“Is your sister home?” he inquired, settling down on the couch. It was a rickety thing that was Panem knew how old, covered with colorful sun-bleached throws.

“No,” she informed him, and for that, he tossed her a gumdrop from the pouch in his pocket. She caught it in the air and chewed it gratefully. Such gratitude was refreshing to see. June was certainly more grateful to him than her sister, who’d been testing him relentlessly. Her temper was a flame and though he despised the unpredictability of a flame, he relished it, somehow, in her. Took pleasure in kindling her spirit, only to snuff it out.

“Where is she?” he asked, and to his surprise, she wasn’t so eager to respond this time. She remained by the door, glancing out of it, then back, as if keeping guard. No response came, but surely she’d heard him.

He narrowed his eyes at that. “Go on, you can tell me.”

“I… can’t.” She pressed the door shut with her back, then looked off to the side, so guilty, as if she’d committed a crime.

“Why not?” he pressed on, toying with the ribbon of the pouch in his pocket.

“Because… I’m not supposed to.”

“Do you want more gumdrops, June?” She looked so conflicted now, staring at both him and the gumdrop, and the promise of a treat which was so close, if only she complied. “All you have to do is tell me where your sister is,” he enticed.

A moment of silence…

“…Somewhere you aren’t supposed to go.”

Look at her, betraying her sister over a mere gumdrop.

The embodiment of greed.

He’d been unsuccessful with getting June to tell him exactly where her sister was, but a few places came to mind. Of course, there was the Hob: the black market that shouldn’t have existed in the first place, though such disorder was rampant in this district. There was also all that uncharted territory beyond the outskirts of Twelve: the woods and the meadow. There was no fence to keep people out, so a handful liked to come and go as they pleased.

The meadow was beautiful, Sejanus had whispered to him. A breath of fresh air compared to how stifling it was within the district’s perimeters, where the air was thick with coal dust. Coriolanus had walked through it once, into the woods to capture those Jabberjays. It was beautiful indeed, but that was besides the point. The point being, Sejanus went back there, of his own accord. He’d made many friends here and had invited him along to a picnic—an invitation he’d of course turned down, as he was not as eager as him to go breaking all the rules.

How typical of Sejanus Plinth, he’d thought. Sedition, after all, was in his blood. That was exactly what had landed him here. He could’ve chosen any other district to serve his time as a Peacekeeper, but he’d chosen to follow his good friend. He’d never once told him they were friends, but the impression Coriolanus strived to maintain was genteel. As such, there were many, he supposed, who considered themselves his friends.

Sejanus had accepted his punishment for his stunt in the arena with such grace. Such grace that it seemed it wasn’t a punishment at all to him, but a fresh start. He wanted to put it all behind him and do some good for this world—become a medic. A waste of his skills when he was such a crackshot. So much so that he deliberately missed his targets during practice, lest he caught the attention of the Commander, who would no doubt put a wrench in those plans. He’d said his ‘pa’ had taught him how to shoot.

Sejanus was ecstatic to be among his kind again. While that was all fine and dandy—none of his business, he’d thought initially—he was reminded of the disturbing reality of what it meant to be perceived as his friend. Should his ‘good friend’ get into any trouble, it wasn’t a stretch to assume he could also take the fall for his messes, by pure association.

How troublesome.

Sneaking off to the meadow wasn’t an earth-shattering offense in and of itself, but he was building a track record here. Always whispering with strange people when he thought he wasn’t watching. What he’d later revealed to him about his plan to help smuggle those rebels out of Twelve was truly his last straw.

That’d been dealt with, he’d thought. Gaul would be pleased with his message from the Jabberjay, and perhaps would reward him for it. Give him a leg up, a way out of this district. Sejanus, as always, would get a slap on the wrist. They’d delegate some other punishment to him. Whatever it was, if it meant getting him out of his hair, he’d be relieved.

His morning patrol led him in proximity of the Hob, shortly after his conversation with June. Why not take a look? he thought. See what was going on in there. Maybe grab a snack. His eyes just so happened to be peeled more than usual. It was wise to be vigilant in these shady parts.

He just so happened to stumble upon a most compelling sight.

That man. His little mouse’s friend, carrying a heavy sack of something. He made his rounds, stopping by to trade some fruit, and all hell broke loose once he tried to discreetly slip an elderly woman selling stew a whole turkey. To his left and right, there were people bidding over it. If not the whole thing, then parts of it.

It was unprecedented chaos.

More chaos than the drunken brawls he’d observed.

It was useful to get to know the people around him. You never know what might come in handy. A habit for observation had been hardwired in Coriolanus, for only his entire life, that was how he survived. Back in the Capitol, where there was order, survival looked a bit different than this. Back there, he used his skill to mold himself to those around him. For each of his peers, he sported a different cadence and persona. A bit of flattery went a long way when he brought up things he remembered about them. That was precisely how he’d ended up in good graces with almost everyone. Almost everyone except Highbottom, who was immune to his charm and had a vendetta against him for whatever reason. He worked tirelessly to exude an impression fitting of a Snow heir, who wanted for nothing.

Here, it was different. There was little benefit in making friends and he was already in an advantageous position as a Peacekeeper, so there was nothing to claw towards. Nothing to strive for, besides perhaps the prospect of working his way up to a better district. Still, he could not help but observe every little thing, as though in that way, he was in control of the world around him. Observation was a useful skill, anyway, for reprimanding those who broke the rules.

If it were up to him, he thought, he’d burn this whole place down. But he rested assured that it’d take care of itself. One spark and this whole place would light up like a tinderbox, if it didn’t cave in from how decrepit it appeared.

Coriolanus, not wanting to be caught up in all this ruckus, made his swift exit.

Still, the thought scratched at his mind, to bring it up to Hoff. Surely he was aware that the Hob existed. Surely he was aware that the illegal goods sold there didn’t spawn out of thin air. Was he alright with people running off into the woods like that?

No wonder this district was such a mess.

He pictured himself, for a moment, as Commander instead. Thought of all the ways he might shape this place up, so it was less like a zoo. At least a zoo kept its animals caged. Perhaps he would surround the outskirts with a fence. Preferably an electrical one, so they couldn’t gnaw through it. That would keep them from getting out. There would be no whores running around in the barracks, soliciting his men for coin, either.

Anyway. That man made it out of the Hob in one piece and in bright spirits, having earned himself a pretty penny. Certainly much more than he’d have earned working in the mines.

Observation, Coriolanus thought, as they crossed paths, could be a weapon. Lethal, just as a blade was. His filthy bag brushed him as they bumped shoulders, and they both gave pause.

The man’s coal gray eyes hardened the moment they locked on him, in recognition. The warmth bled from them as he clenched his jaw—a stark contrast to how he’d been moments ago, making his rounds, greeting people and bartering with them. An apology was in order, yet not a word left his lips. He just stood there, gripping his bag so tight, as if frozen in a murderous rage. A look he’d never given him before, which, frankly, came out of nowhere when he was in such a seemingly good mood. Had he ruined his day?

“Can I help you?” Coriolanus inquired, since it appeared there was something he had to say.

Silence. Nothing. He simply sized him up as if contemplating something for a moment. Then he rolled his boot, shaking off the errant pebble stuck in it with the same carelessness that he’d demonstrated in his demeanor. Shake it off. Shake him off.

And then he was on his way.

How curious.

His strange behavior sat with him for a while. Truly confounded him. What did it mean? His little mouse’s friend had never given him any pleasant looks before—that much was certain. Whenever Coriolanus showed up, he was met with the same critical stare of someone trying to dissect something. Who are you and what do you want? was the general sense he got. Only this time, he was met with a stare so charged and brimming with ire, as if he’d personally done something to offend him. They’d never exchanged more than a brief greeting here and there, whenever in the presence of her.

It led him to wonder if, perhaps, the two of them had met up again. If not once, then twice, or several times for all he knew; he didn’t have the time nor care to keep a close eye on her. That was what a little birdie was for. She’d informed him that her friend hadn’t stopped by this week.

On a Sunday afternoon, Coriolanus came knocking on their door.

One knock, and—

It swung open with such haste that he initially assumed it was June, all bright-eyed and eager to see her favorite Peacekeeper who’d come by with another delivery of gumdrops. But no—it was his little mouse, all dolled up and ready for him. So pretty in pink, and was that the ribbon he gave her?

She’d finally worn it.

The satiny glint of it in the sunlight was something no cheap cloth ribbon could produce. It was the cherry on top of this new dress she was sporting: one a town girl would wear, with all its frills and fuss. Something she could never afford. Was it an heirloom or a gift from another? She’d gone all out. What was this? An attempt to butter him up? Distract him from what she’d been up to when he wasn’t keeping a watchful eye on her? She never wore any of his gifts unless he reminded her to, and had never thanked him for them, either. So, her wearing that ribbon out of the blue was certainly something.

“You’re here early,” she greeted him so sweetly—it was almost cloying. “Would you like a drink?” He took his time drinking her in, while she fixed him with the kindest smile.

“Some water would be nice,” he replied, humoring her anyway, pretending not to notice how chipper she was. She took off in her flowy pink dress, into the kitchen.

He didn’t like it—her regarding him the same way she did those Peacekeepers she swindled at the Hob. Batting her lashes and lilting her voice just so, all while waiting for them to get drunk enough so she could get away with fleecing their wallets. Normally, he would take a seat on the sofa and wait for her, but today he made himself comfortable, stepping past the fluffy orange obstacle by the door who was currently glaring daggers at him—probably plotting his demise. He made his way into the kitchen, hot on her tail, and she froze.

“Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll bring it to you.” She attempted to block his path, but he swiftly side-stepped her.

“I can help myself,” he insisted, then paused, waiting for that crack in her demeanor, that hint of irritation that he’d come to associate with her, to show. What’s yours is mine. She didn’t cave, merely retreating towards the kitchen counter. Just behind her, he spotted a large mixing bowl with a cloth covering it.

“What have we here?” he inquired in passing, grabbing himself a cup from the cabinet.

“Just some dough,” she gestured, her smile tensing. “I’m letting it sit.”

Well, he could’ve left it at that, but he wanted to pry—to get to the bottom of her unusual behavior. So, after pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip, he made his way over to her side. It was like whiplash, how quickly his hand flew to the cloth behind her, pulling it off the bowl before she could attempt to hinder him. Her smile dropped so fast, the color bleeding from her face at having been caught red-handed with… what’s this?

“I’ve never seen bread like this before,” he remarked dryly, glancing at the bowl teeming with wild berries. Something you normally wouldn’t find within town, unless procured from the Hob, or perhaps… the woods. “Where’d you get these from?”

She swallowed. “The… Hob. June’s birthday’s coming up, so I wanted to make her something special.”

He didn’t pull away, instead letting his presence linger in proximity. He plucked a ripe berry from the top of the pile and examined it with precision. “How old is she turning, again?”

“Eight,” came her clipped response. He already knew that, but rather enjoyed watching her squirm. And squirm she did, picking her nails the way she did whenever she was nervous or lacking enrichment.

“How will you celebrate? Will you throw a party?”

Parties in the Capitol were once extravagant affairs. He’d witnessed that much through his hazy memories as a toddler, back before the war had done its damage. His mother used to parade him around in his little velvet suits, and all the poshly dressed mothers in her circle gushed about how handsome he looked. Just like Crassus, they unanimously agreed. It was all torturous; he instead directed his focus towards the intricate marbled fixtures and Avoxes strolling by with endless trays of fancy appetizers and drinks—drinks he’d not been allowed to touch, for he had to grow up first. Oh, how he could not wait to grow up so he could understand and perhaps enjoy all of that.

Then the war happened, and there came a time when such indulgence was a thing of the past. There came a time when no calorie was unwanted and every bit of scrap was utilized in some manner, whether fed to the fire or boiled into some insipid broth. Old outfits were repurposed for important occasions, when before, one would not be caught dead wearing the same ensemble twice.

But things were finally changing after ten hard years, just when he had to leave it all behind. Hedonism was creeping back into fashion, and so the parties came, along with the reconstruction efforts as Capitolite families endeavored to give their places a much-needed facelift. He was left to imagine what sort of parties his friends were throwing over their summer break. Were they all talking about him back home? Were they lauding him for ‘following in his late father’s footsteps’?

“That’s the plan,” she replied stiffly, still on edge about the berries, he assumed. Which was odd, given it was no secret she was a little rule breaker. Was something else troubling her?

“Who will be in attendance?” he pressed on, dragging his hand up her slight and bony frame. She stiffened under his touch, under his fingertips playing with the satin ribbon in her ponytail.

“Just me n’ June,” she managed, breath hitching.

“Only the two of you? Surely there are more people you could invite,” he mused. “Like your friend, perhaps? The two of you are seemingly inseparable.” He tried to picture what a party in Twelve looked like. Something sad, he imagined, without an endless buffet of refreshments and hors d’oeuvres. No orchestra playing in the background, nor any affluent guests. Just people crammed into a hot room with plenty of cheap booze. No class whatsoever.

She appeared perplexed, gingerly wetting her lips. “You… told me not to talk to him anymore.”

“Didn’t I?” He hummed, bringing a lock of her blonde hair up to his nose and inhaling its sweet scent. She’d showered recently; her signature strawberry scent wafted over him like an intoxicating cloud. “I saw him yesterday at the Hob, trading. He brought in quite a haul. A wild turkey. Those are hard to come by, aren’t they?” She was so quiet, so frightfully quiet, gripping the countertop so tightly her knuckles whitened. “I’ve heard, if you’re lucky, you can stumble across one out there, in the woods…”

“What about it?” she finally managed, straightening up.

“I stopped by your place yesterday to grab a drink beforehand. A little birdie told me the strangest thing. Do you want to know what?” He wasn’t asking, of course. “She said you went… somewhere you aren’t supposed to go.” He had her trapped like a mouse, and her gaze darted to her left and right as she searched for a way out. Poor little mouse, about to be devoured like prey. “Only two places came to mind, and I didn’t see you at the Hob. Where were you, pray tell?”

“In town—” she fired back, though her tone lacked conviction, “—looking for work.”

“Who were you with?” he inquired, plainly.

“I was alone,” she murmured.

“I thought we agreed not to lie to each other.” He tutted, pulling back. Nothing peeved him more than a liar. Especially a terrible liar.

“I’m not—”

He pressed his finger to her soft pink lips, shushing her. “I already know you saw your friend. I only want you to admit it. If you do, I’ll consider being more…” he paused, looking her up and down, trembling as she was, “…lenient with you.” Of course, it was mere speculation whether she’d met with her friend. He wouldn’t put it past someone like her who never learned how to follow rules. But he could be gracious… to those who were grateful.

“Why don’t we go out today?” He pulled away, permitting her enough room to breathe. “Some fresh air would do us some good. It’s quite stuffy in here.” As if fresh air were a possibility in this district. Usually, they stayed home. After they enjoyed a drink, she usually led him to her room, where the real fun began. To think indulging in such baser, animalistic urges was… fun. It wasn’t necessarily fun what they did. It was just… something to do. Something, where there was otherwise nothing. Was this how it felt to live like someone in the districts? There was little in the way of indulgence in a place like this. At least he wasn’t indulging at the expense of his liver. White liquor was what his fellow Peacekeepers preferred, but back home, they called that nasty drink Moonshine. Something hard and unrefined to the palate of the average Capitolite.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he steered her out of the kitchen, his hand on the small of her back.

“Outside. Didn’t you hear?” was all he said.

He had her walk a few feet ahead of him while he trailed her from behind, far enough so it seemed they weren’t walking together. That way, they wouldn’t draw suspicion. There was a certain decorum he strived to maintain, wherein he didn’t indulge in the company of her sort.

She kept glancing back at him like a skittish mouse being followed, and he simply told her to keep walking straight. For all she knew, they were meandering toward some unknown destination. It all clicked in her head once they crossed the edge of the seam, into the entrance of the lush field ahead.

“We aren’t supposed to be here.” She halted in her tracks, breath shaking.

“We’re almost there,” he replied smoothly, ignoring her words, her pretty words, such meaningless embellishments to his ears. “Keep going.”

They continued moving through the tall ferns, deeper into the heart of the meadow.

Now, they were out of sight and far from prying eyes.

That was when he reached into his holster, procuring his pistol, all while she kept walking, deeper and deeper into the field, none the wiser. Until finally, she flinched at the cool steel barrel pressing against her narrow back. Her hazel eyes widened in alarm once she found the source of it.

“Cor—Coriolanus…”

How strange it was to hear his name coming from her lips. Her loose lips.

“Did I tell you to stop walking?” came his callous response. “Keep going.”

It was a long, long stretch of a walk, but he’d gotten used to being on his feet all day, so this was nothing to him. Nothing but a brisk afternoon stroll. He took a moment to appreciate how sweet the air smelled, and the sight before him was truly stunning, purple and yellow wildflowers decorating the earth. The beauty of it was all but disarming to him—disarming for what he imagined when he pictured Twelve. Here, he found no trace of anything gray and decrepit. Nothing covered in a film of coal dust. Just the earth itself, thriving wildly, as nature did.

He led her down, down to the willow tree.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, giving the place a wide sweep with his cold blue eyes. “How often do you come down here?”

“I haven’t been here in ages,” she lied. Again. She rubbed her arm in an attempt to soothe herself, the leaves of the willow tree tickling her tanned neck.

“My apologies, I meant—how often do you come here with your friend? What was his name again?” He waved the pistol around, his memory failing him, or so it seemed through her widened gaze.

“We should head back—”

“Ezra, was it?” In the meantime, she was eyeing his pistol warily, as if it were a loose cannon. “The two of you truly are inseparable.” She backed up against the trunk of the willow tree and he followed her, matching her hastened strides with his longer ones. “Did the two of you come here yesterday?”

She shook her head.

“I’ve learned that whenever you say no, you actually mean yes,” he remarked. “Such a backwards way to speak, in my opinion. It would save us both the trouble if you would simply be honest with me. Honesty is so important.”

Her kind would know nothing about that.

He was reminded of that when he looked up at the source of the rustling above them in the tree. Sure enough, he found a few of those birds flitting about on its branches. Those Mockingjays—unnatural beasts they were. He’d pitched the idea to Commander Hoff to use them as target practice. It would be like killing two birds with one stone, he’d said, proud of himself for coming up with that. They’d fix the issue of those things multiplying rampantly and hone their skills in turn.

“He followed me—it was just once—”

“I don’t care to know,” he confessed, caging her against the rough trunk of the tree. What had happened had happened. The mention of that district boy irked him, however, and not for the reason one would suspect. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, but rather irritation at something of his falling into the coal-blackened hands of another. She belonged to him, as he saw it, and it was not the sort of possessiveness one would have for a lover, but rather a favorite toy. Toys were easily discardable once they served their purpose. And she was not serving hers well, he thought. He drank her in, trembling as she was, the cool barrel of his pistol trailing up her arm, then down her chest, pressing down with such force as if he were trying to feel her heartbeat. How fast it must’ve thrummed when it seemed she was struggling to breathe.

“Why did you bring me here?” she murmured, her hand finding the barrel and pushing at it. His aim, however, was steady, locked on its target.

“To enjoy the weather. Did you not listen?” he taunted, tapping the pistol against her temple, against her thick skull, making her flinch. “You have a free spirit. A mind of your own… and that is precisely why your actions have consequences. Do they not?” He clicked the safety off the pistol, truly driving his point home. The horrified look she gave him was priceless, like she was truly convinced she was at death’s door. “There is a way you can make it up to me. If you manage to convince me that you’re sincere, I might let this slide…”

His hand, which held the pistol, as if possessed, moved along her silhouette, down her tightened throat and humble breasts, her slender middle, further down, finding its home between her quivering thighs.

“Are you gonna kill me if I don’t?” she managed, appearing as if she might soil herself.

“Of course not, little mouse. I am many things but not wasteful—if you can prove that you are of use to me.” What was it, this high in his head? All he knew was that her fear looked delicious. It made him want to devour her whole, like a wolf having drawn its first taste of blood. He traced the cool barrel of the pistol along her inner thighs, sending a shiver up her spine. A familiar heat pooled in his loins.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, and though her reaction pleased him, he didn’t show it. He rather liked having her dwell in this perpetual state of uncertainty. Fear was respect. Breath hitching, she tried to ignore the pistol tracing up to her core, teasing it through the flimsy barrier of fabric beneath her dress.

“Get down on your knees,” he ordered.

“This is my ma’s dress. I don’t want to ruin it.” She gave him a pleading look.

“Then take it off.”

It was a simple solution, yet she hesitated with the hem of her dress. Though they were out in the middle of nowhere, there was still that shame, that indecency about being exposed to the elements. Inevitably, she caved, lifting her skirt and dropping to her knees on the lush grass.

“Good girl,” he praised, one hand finding her golden crown of hair and stroking it, as if he were addressing a pet. “Now, I want you to please me.”

And so she moved through the motions mechanically, her trembling hand reaching for his belt—

But he gripped her hand tight, halting her. Her brows furrowed in confusion because, after all, this was how it usually began, with her pulling down his pants and briefs, then taking him with her skilled hands and mouth. “Close your eyes for me, little mouse.”

A direct order, which she obeyed, despite her perplexity.

Where her lips had expected to meet warmth, there was instead the kiss of something cold and metallic. Her eyes snapped open at once, and she gasped at the pistol prodding at her lips. His hand caged her in place, pulling her forward when she tried to retreat. “I’m truly astounded that you thought I’d let you lay a finger on me after what you pulled. Who knows what these lips of yours have touched?”

An incredulous whimper was all she offered in response. His fingers carded through her silky waves. “Open your mouth.” She did—barely—and so he yanked her hair, eliciting a hiss from her. That allowed him to slide the barrel in, with a bit of necessary force. The metallic taste of the metal made her gag, but he didn’t ease up. After all, wasn’t she meant to please him? Was that not her purpose?

Her hazel eyes prickled with tears—tears of humiliation—because she had never looked so dumb. “You know what to do,” he said, a chill in his tone. “Work that pretty little mouth for me like you always do.” It was what she did best. Her lips wrapped around the barrel and her cheeks hollowed, then she began to suck it gingerly like it was his cock. What a sinful sight. He grazed his finger over the trigger, just to see her tense up in fright. “There we go. Just like that,” he crooned, watching her bob her head up and down so carefully, like it was the first time she’d ever sucked a cock. But they both knew this was far from the first time she’d debased herself.

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if looking at him would unravel her composure, which she was barely holding together. Her hands were balled into fists over her lap, unnaturally stiff as she went through the motions, just waiting for it to be over. He wondered what she was thinking of now. Was she praying that his finger wouldn’t slip on that trigger?

Coriolanus pushed the gun further down, as deep as it could go, feeling a familiar stiffness in his trousers. A natural reaction he chose to ignore. It wasn’t about the gratification—it never truly was. “Why are you so tense, little mouse?” he taunted. “Are you afraid I’ll let my finger slip? One pull and it would be all over for you, wouldn’t it?”

Her frantic eyes snapped open at that, and she watched him play with the trigger, with such carelessness as if it were a toy. The sinful sound of her struggling to take the gun was all he could hear then—no birds, no leaves rustling. All of nature had dissolved into a quiet hum, where at the center of it all, there was just her. She tried to pull back for air once it had gotten too difficult for her to breathe, but he was relentless, seeing just how far he could push her. Her thighs squeezed together as she shifted restlessly.

“Is it too much for you? Do you want to take a break?” his voice softened as if in consideration—before he let the other shoe drop. “You can go a little while longer.” Until he was satisfied, if not bored with this. She looked like a right mess, drool dripping down her chin as she whimpered, clearly begging for something, but her mouth was too preoccupied for her to tell him just what she needed.

Out of nowhere, her hand slipped between her thighs, beneath the thin fabric covering her modesty—what little remained of it. The satisfied look on his face faded, just like that, when he saw her hand move in teasing circles as she… as she… pleasured herself.

What a sick, depraved individual, getting off to something like this.

He was, by all means, disgusted, and a bit miffed because this wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable for her. This was meant to be a lesson for her, but some people, it seemed, were beyond rehabilitation. His jaw clenched and he could’ve sworn for a second that he caught a triumphant glint in her eyes, somewhere beneath the haziness. Even now, she was testing him, as if to say—you can do whatever you want to me, but you’ll never break me.

“Look at you,” he crooned, returning her energy with narrowed eyes. “All worked up from sucking my pistol. A proper whore, if I’ve ever seen one.” She offered a hum, rocking her hips against her hand, and well, he heard the evidence of her excitement loud and clear. That sticky, shameless sound, that almost made his face heat up. “Shall I replace your fingers with something better?” She didn’t offer him any response. Just a glazed-over look, which he’d interpreted as a challenge.

Well, it was about time he put her in her place. In a proper sense. No more second and third chances. With that conviction, he withdrew the pistol and pulled her up by her arm. She gave a surprised squeak, and the next thing she knew, she was pressed up against the trunk of the willow tree. He ripped her panties clean off her body and she gasped, but he gave her no time to recover from that, pressing the cool weapon between her legs.

“You’re not actually gonna…” Her voice cracked when he traced it along her folds, teasingly, all while she stared at it in horror.

“Not going to what?” He feigned innocence, prodding the weapon between her folds and coating it thoroughly in her arousal. “You were so eager, playing with yourself while you sucked my gun like it was my cock,” he pointed out, dryly. Such vulgar words, but he’d gotten used to hearing all sorts of vulgarities during his stay here. Such words that he hardly heard back in the Capitol were so normal now. “It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume you’d like being fucked by it too, hmm? It takes a special sort of whore to get wet like that.”

“You’re insane,” she faltered, the rawness in her voice breaking through the facade she put up. A moment of silence stretched on as they tried to read each other, tried to calculate their next moves. It seemed she decided hers once she straightened up, steeling herself. “I see you’re getting off to this too…” So boldly, her hand found its way to the stiffness in his trousers, pressing down. “Do you need a little help there?” A teasing rub, and then a twitch, which she certainly felt. A wry, forced smile formed on her face, mingling with the fear already there, making her look almost manic in her attempt to keep it together.

She had to have the upper hand. Had to remain in control, no matter what, even when he had a gun pointed at her. Reckless as can be. There was only one winner in this game they were playing, and well, as the saying goes… Snow lands on top. Perhaps he hadn’t spelled that out for her clearly enough. He slapped her hand away. “Hands to yourself, unless you want me to tie you up, little mouse.” She’d like that, wouldn’t she? Of course she would. Was there anything he could do to her that she wouldn’t like?

He thought of one thing.

Without ceremony, he eased the pistol inside her tight walls, and she inhaled sharply at how cold the metal was, and how unnatural it was to be filled with something like this. She bit down hard on her lip, desperately trying to stifle the whimper building in her throat. But he heard it. He assumed a languid rhythm, as if all of this were a mere inconvenience to him, while her blunt nails dug into the rough bark, seeking purchase.

“Not so talkative anymore, are you?” he taunted, each thrust, each subtle movement calculated, disarming her little by little. Her walls fluttered, struggling to accommodate the pistol and all its rough ridges. “It would be so easy to pull this trigger…” he murmured, his voice low and velvety smooth as he carefully tapped it, watching her flinch. “One twitch and… this little game of ours ends for good.”

“If you’re gonna do it, just do it.” Her face burned with humiliation, and yet, she managed to bite back. “Stop playing with your toy.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” he purred, a gleam of amusement in his expression. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

He continued toying with her until he grew bored. Or was it that the tightness in his trousers had become too distracting to ignore? He pulled the pistol out of her and she exhaled in relief.

“What now?” she asked him when he slid it back into its holster.

What indeed? He looked her up and down, considering how to go about solving this problem he had. “You see…” he began, “I don’t think you’ve learned to respect me yet. I think I ought to fuck that attitude out of you.”

She swallowed. “I thought you didn’t want to touch me.”

“Touch you, no. But mold you—” he grabbed her wrist, then turned her around to face the tree in one swift motion, “—perhaps.” He shoved her dress up over her hips, exposing her to the elements completely. Then he freed his cock from its tight confines and pressed it flush against her ass, letting her feel it, that pulsing warmth. “When I am done with you, you won’t be the same anymore.” It wasn’t a warning, but a promise. Eventually, there would come a time when he tired of her, or they naturally drifted apart. By then, would she recognize herself?

His knee wedged her legs apart. In one swift thrust, he entered her, filling her completely—bottoming out without any regard for easing her into it like he often did. A sharp cry tore itself from her throat, echoing in the meadow around them. The birds above responded, mimicking that sound, that broken moan she gave. She gasped in mortification, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle her sounds, but he gathered both of her hands and pinned them behind her back, not allowing her that privilege.

“Don’t. Let them hear exactly what you are,” he hissed, constricting her with his very presence, as if he were a snake, and she, the little mouse, his prey. He fucked her hard against the willow tree as she struggled, thrashing beneath him, entirely helpless. She hated being tied up—hated that loss of control. The last time he’d tied her up, she’d struggled just the same, demanding to be untied. Those words on her lips were just that. Pretty little words. They meant nothing.

And so the birds echoed her song in refrain while she cried out pathetically, the rough bark of the tree scraping her skin. What more was a little cut and bruise? He’d already left so many on her. Most of those hadn’t been done by his hand, but he’d delivered her to her judgment, and so, was responsible. His gaze traced along her back, over where all those scars were, concealed by her dress. She’d worn long sleeves despite the sweltering heat, determined to cover the evidence, as if that would erase what had been done.

“Can you hear it? How pathetic you sound?” he hummed, listening to her cry out as he hit her sweet spot. The one place he noticed she was trying to hide from him, but he sought it relentlessly, making her knees tremble. “Ah, ah,” he mocked her, and she gritted her teeth.

“Shut. Up—”

“Is that any way to speak to the one who helps feed and clothe you? Hmm?” His grip eased, and in that moment she managed to break free and throw him off. He landed on his ass in the dirt. It was moments like these, when she behaved like a wild animal, that he was again reminded of what she was. He wiped the dirt from his chin, smiling coldly at her from her spot by the tree. Fists clenched and everything, knees shaking. Where was she going with this?

Coriolanus rose to his feet, moving towards her, and she backed away.

“You’ve always liked it rough,” he thought out loud. She liked to scratch him and bite him, liked to make him draw blood, as if a taste for it were innate in her. It very well might’ve been. “We can play rough, if that’s what you want.” He seized her by her arm and shoved her to the earth, onto her face. How familiar it was to have her pinned to the ground like this. It reminded him of how they met, and how she squirmed just the same, struggling to break free. He yanked her head back, hissing hotly against her ear—“If you want to act like an animal, I’ll treat you like one.”

Coriolanus mounted her from behind and thought of how elemental this was. Them in the dirt, her clawing at it while she gasped, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him and the suddenness of it all. Her pathetic cries resumed as he fucked her at a relentless pace, working out all of that pent-up energy. No, there was nothing animalistic about this. Nothing uncouth about what they were doing. It was mere strategy.

His large hands, once so smooth, were now calloused from his new lifestyle, and they gripped her small waist, squeezing it tightly. He grunted as he used her for all she was worth, as the birds echoed—ah, ah. It was all too much for her; she’d tried to cover her ears just so she couldn’t hear it, and him laughing at how worked up she was getting.

Soon, he felt that familiar tightness in his loins, and she sensed it too, in the way his rhythm stuttered, and how he grunted. “Pull out.” She tried to turn her head to him, but his strong hand had her pinned in place. He wasn’t stopping, and at that, she gave a panicked look. “Coriolanus—”

“Did I give you permission to say my name?” he hissed.

“Sir. Please!”

Oh. All of a sudden, she was so sweet with him, as if seeing the error in her ways, but he knew better. “What would happen anyway?” he thought out loud. “It won’t take. Even if it did, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It might settle you.” His hand moved down to her hollow stomach, pressing down on it, right where her womb was. “Think of it, you swollen with my seed. My bastard child.”

That would never happen, of course; she was so visibly malnourished. Did she even have her regular cycles? She tried with all her might to get away, as if that would truly mean the end of the world to her. “You’re squeezing me so tightly, little mouse. It’ll be impossible for me to pull out now,” he taunted, pulling her back onto his cock, making her cry out.

“No!” She sobbed. “I can’t risk it…” She’d tired herself out, from all that trashing around, the ground around her riddled with claw marks—the evidence of her struggle. “I can’t end up like…” End up like what? Like every other district whore, inevitably?

She went rigid, shuddering when she felt that warmth flooding inside her.

“No…” She shook, lying still there, even after he pulled out. He watched her from above, taking in what a mess she was, his seed trickling down her thighs and onto the dirt. The same place she liked to come to with her friend, and do heaven knows what. It might’ve been their little secret before, but not anymore. A part of him thought, if his seed did take, she’d forever associate this place with where she’d gotten knocked up by some man who wasn’t even her husband. A common occurrence in the districts.

Conceiving out of wedlock in the Capitol was a surefire way to cause scandal, because there, in that beautiful land, there was order.

Come to think of it, his theory might not be sound. How were they all getting pregnant here, if they were so malnourished? Nature was a tenacious thing. He knelt over her trembling form after he tucked himself away, brushing her messy waves back to see her face. What a mess it was, dirt on it and everything. “Why… did you do that?” she asked him, her hazel eyes filled with such shock, and a hint of hatred, spreading like wildfire, sure enough.

“Because, little mouse, I wanted to remind you that your actions indeed have consequences.” He played with her hair almost tenderly, a mockery of a lover’s touch, and then pulled her to sit up straight. She flinched when he touched her, but made no move to smack his hand away, and so he continued, brushing her tears away. Fixing her hair and making her presentable. “Let this be a lesson to you, not to test me further. I would hate for you to force my hand again.”

“Now,” he said, pulling away, “pull yourself together. We have a hike to do.”

“Where… are we going?” She struggled to her feet, cringing at that sticky feeling between her thighs. Upon further examination, her panties were torn to shreds. As good as useless, but she still pocketed them, as if to hide the evidence.

“Into the woods,” he answered. “I want you to show me where you and your friend like to go.”

Tag List: @likklemy @coryoslut @coffeeblyth @theycallmecissy Let me know if you would like to be added (specify if you would like to be tagged in all stories or only for specific series) or dropped from the tag list!

[hentaii-desu-deactivated2012051]

[gifs-captions-art]

ohhh fuck baby girl that’s it, take daddy’s big cock inside your pretty pussy, just like that - fuck - oh baby daddy’s sorry he knows it hurts but he just couldn’t help it okay? daddy needs this, needs this little pussy so bad

[bellamay18]



bluewildcat71:

“Daddy’s sorry,” he moaned, shoving his cock deep into her little pussy.

“But, oh god,” he grunted, quick stroking his little girl before slowing shoving his cock in and out of her once virgin hole.

“But, Daddy.. Daddy took a pill… and, and Mommy had, had to leave.” He pumped his cock hard into his little girl, her squeals only seemed to make his cock even harder.

“She left… and I was so… fucking… hard, babygirl,” he grunted, reaming her little fuck hole.

“Daddy, stop” she moaned, “it hurts, Daddy, it hurts.”

“Cause your… little pussy… is so… small, babygirl,” he had to be tearing her little fuck hole apart, he thought as he looked down at her pussy, seeing how stretched her baby hole was on his shaft as he fucked in and out of her tiny body.

“Daddy’s cock is so big… so hard,” he grunted, pushing the head hard against her womb.

“Daddy needs your little pussy, babygirl,” he moaned, short stroking deep inside her, feeling her womb kissing the head of his cock.

“Your little pussy… oh god, babygirl,” his hands went to her shoulders, pulling her body into his thrusts.

“Daddy needs it… Jesus, need to… need to fuck it so hard,” he growled as the ache in his cock and gut grew so unbearable.

His whole body shook with the power of his thrust as he pulled her to meet his strokes. He’d never felt so full of lust. He’d had the pills before to make love with his wife, but he’d never been so filled with a lusty need to fuck as he was right now with his daughter.

“Make… make Daddy feel good,” he grunted, screwing deep and harder, feeling his cock swelling.

“Squeeze it… squeeze Daddy’s meat, little girl,” he groaned, sweat dripping off his face as he pounded her cunt.

He roared as his balls drew up and contracted, shooting a hot stream of cum into his little girl’s stretched hole.

He forced his cock in as far as he could reach, wanting to feel every inch of his cock squeezed by her little fuck hole as he filled her with his seed.

He fell on top of her, gasping for breath as the last of his seed leaked into her pussy. He’d never came so hard in his life as he just did inside his babygirl.

Reluctantly, he pulled out of her and turned her over, watching as his seed eventually began to leak from her. While he felt bad for forcing his lust on to his babygirl, there was one thing he could do for her.

He quickly started licking her wet little pussy. Up and down his tongue moved, tasting his own cream and her juices that his fucking had made. 

“Daddy… mmm, what… oh god… what are you doing to me?” she asked even as she spread her legs wider for him to get to her sweet pussy.

He moaned against her, letting his experienced mouth and tongue do the talking for him. He pushed his tongue into her hot little hole and moaned as she fucked her pussy into his face.

God, he must have pumped a quart of cum into his little girl, he thought, as his tongue kept coming out coated in his cock juice.

Her hands slid into his hair, pulled his face deeper into her pussy. He licked his way up to her clit and sucked it between his lips, growling against her as she ground her cunt and came, smearing him with a fresh load of her cream.

He crawled up her body, kissing and licking her skin, nuzzling her breasts and sucking at her nipples. He found her mouth with his and kissed her, groaning as she opened and took his tongue deep.

His cock was already hard again for his little girl. It was pressed tight against her soft, wet pussy lips as he laid between her spread wide legs. He couldn’t resist rubbing against her slit.

“Do you forgive Daddy for raping your little pussy, babygirl?” he asked, kissing her and pressing his cock down hard enough to split her pussy lips apart and tease her clit.

She gasped and he smiled as he felt her rub up against his cock. 

“I forgive you, Daddy, but… you came in me,” she rubbed her pussy against his cock more.

“What are we gonna do if you put a baby in me, Daddy?”

His cock twitched hard and without asking again, he lifted up and pushed his cock balls deep into his babygirl’s little pussy, slowly screwing her while looking deep into her eyes.

“Mmm, lets make sure and put more of Daddy’s seed into your little pussy, babygirl.”

He gave his babygirl three more loads of seed for her little pussy and nine months later his babygirl gave him another baby.

[filthydaddysgirl]

pussy dripping

[whoneedsahugido]

ME AND WHO?!?