#blue lock hunger games

[luna-3-clips]

I'm starting a Blue Lock Hunger Games series

I know that I already have another series going on, but that one I'll only be posting updates once a week. I saw someone do this on Youtube (River Shroom) and I decided I wanted to do it as well.

Here are the districts and their tributes:

District 1

Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rensuke Kunigami

District 2

Asahi Naruhaya, Gin Gagamaru, Jingo Raichi, Wataru Kuon

District 3

Gurimu Igarashi, Okuhito Iemon, Yudai Imamura, Ryusuke Kira

District 4

Ikki Niko, Hibiki Okawa, Junichi Wanima, Keisuke Wanima

District 5

Zantetsu Tsurugi, Reo Mikage, Seishiro Nagi, Shoei Barou

District 6

Aoshi Tokimitsu, Jyubei Aryu, Rin Itoshi, Taiga Tsunzaki

District 7

Ranze Kurona, Yo Hiori, Nijiro Nanase, Jin Kiyora

District 8

Eita Otoya, Tabito Karasu, Kenyu Yukimiya, Akira Endoji

District 9

Ryusei Shidou, Sae Itoshi, Shuto Sendo, Oliver Aiku

District 10

Adam Blake, Julian Loki, Leonardo Luna, Pablo Cavazos

District 11

Noel Noa, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Lavinho

District 12

Anri Teieri, Jinpachi Ego, Chris Prince, Marc Snuffy

Check out the rest of the series here

[dreamingjuno]

MICHAEL KAISER as coriolanus snow !

[elysiality]

GUYS.

I don't know how many times this needs to be parroted before it makes its mark but— PUTTING ANY SORT OF DESCRIPTION OR NAME TO THE 'READER' IN YOUR FIC/STORY DOES NOT MAKE IT AN X READER STORY, IT MAKES IT AN X OC STORY.

Putting a name to the reader that's not an alias they use for disguise? It's an x OC story.

Describing their complexion/eye colour/skin/body type/height in any way that's not related to the powers you may have given them? It's an x OC story.

"oh but I don't like y/n or (reader)-" TOO BAD. Either tag it as an x OC story and move on, make the characters in the story refer to them by terms of endearment or JUST DONT WRITE AN X READER STORY!! The whole point of x Reader stories are so that the reader, no matter what race, complexion, name, etc, can imagine themselves in a world they love. The most description that's acceptable is the GENDER. And that's if you mention their gender in the tags.

And yes, we get it, you're afraid of not getting any interaction on your x OC or x your sona/self-insert story but don't mislead readers who actually want to integrate themselves in the story! There will always be people willing to read x OC stories, whether because they're aroace or they want the character to be happy or whatever. And the same thing goes for making characters siblings to the reader. If a Japanese character is a biological sibling to the reader, then it's automatically assuming that the reader is Japanese and hence, NOT AN X READER! The only race changing acceptable is for fictional races.

So for the love of God, do not keep putting x OC stories in the x reader tags. It's really starting to irk the communities you write for (or atleast, me anyway.)

[harpval]

HI SO ACTUALLY NOW ISNT THE TIME TO FLOOD MY FYP W HUNGER GAMES ANGST. Anyways, Rin Itoshi?

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You gaze into the eyes of the boy you once knew. The world falling into a foreign quiet around you. You feel so at peace it puts you on edge. Your comrades asleep scattered about the old space, a bunker that was graciously lent to you for rest so you may survive the night to continue your advances.

His eyes were tired, yet entrancing as ever. The color of teal you’ve only ever seen in one another person—his brother. Framed by dark eye bags from lack of sleep, nights of torture. His cheekbones hollowed but filling in as the days go by. You wonder what he endured, but whatever it was is a force that doesn’t allow you to get to close. If you’d like to continue living, that is.

You’ve seen his strength, his agility. He’s surpassed even his brother. But to feel that pressure digging into your vocal box, feeling the blood rush to your head as the boy you once knew stared into your eyes with a killer’s gaze. Nothing short of horrific.

Thanks to the rebel medical team, you’ve made a speedy recovery and are back in the field.

He remains cuffed to a metal pole, his arms around it in an unintentional embrace.

He stares. Continuously, his lips cracked and slightly parted as if he had something to say though no words come out.

There’s a flicker in his eyes, something new from the day he almost took your life. Part of you wishes he’d succeeded, you wouldn’t have to endure anymore pain, anymore suffering. You would’ve died to someone who truly loved you, maybe.

“You should sleep.” You break the silence, swallowing words unsaid.

“No,” his voice cuts through the silence. A sorry attempt for a whisper. “You’ll,” he cuts himself off and shakes his head, tapping his forehead into the metal pole. Not hard enough for you to have to wake someone, but enough to make his eyes screw shut and his nose wrinkle. “You’ll kill me.”

To this your throat tightens.

“I won’t.”

“You’re a monster, you’re a killer-“ he breathes heavily, inhaling sharply as his breaths come out shaky and strained. You can only watch as he shifts uncomfortably. Your fingers itch to reach out, to cup his face in your hands and tell him it’s okay. You want him to look at you the way he used to.

Another silence settles over the two of you, encasing you in your own bubble away from your comrades. At least one of them are awake, listening to your interaction, ready to intervene.

You feel his eyes on you, longer than necessary. You don’t meet his gaze, your jaw tensing and relaxing. He’d been made into a weapon with a specific target in mind: you.

“How can I trust you?” He speaks up, his voice on the brink of breaking into either screams or cries. Your eyes flicker up, and you’re met with the little boy you once knew who’d follow his brother everywhere and cry over everything.

You fumble for a response, eyes shutting as you try to burn the image of him as a child out of your head.

“I don’t know,” your voice comes out quiet. Akin to a mouse. “I don’t know.” You echo, choking back your own tears. You hadn’t cried in a long time, not genuinely. Only empty tears without a source

You still feel his eyes on you, urging you to meet them. You do, brows drawn together as your gaze rakes over his features once more.

“I know you, though.” You mutter. He seems to perk up.

“What do you mean?”

Your lips set into a line as you contemplate, pondering for the right words. The truth is, you can’t put it into words. How much he means to you, the way your heart is overflowing with him. How it always has. Your heart was never truly yours.

“Your favorite season is autumn. You like the chilly weather.” You watch the tensed muscles in his jaw relax, his gaze softens. “Your favorite color is blue, specifically the blue you’d see in the sky.”

A beat of silence.

“Your favorite animal is owls.” Your voice trails off to a mumble.

His attention falls to the floor at that. His head tapping against the metal support he’s chained to, eyes screwed shut before his movements slowed—his tensed posture slowly relaxing as his head finally leans against the pole. Hair hanging over his face, concealing his expression. You longed to reach out and brush that hair away from his eyes.

“Your favorite season is the summer.” His tone comes out, uncharacteristically soft, nearly strained as if he were the one who was choked to near death. “You said because it’s easier to hunt. And there’s more life to the world, right?”

You feel your brows crease involuntarily, and your head lifts slowly.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Your expression softens. He’s still in there, somewhere. That softness he’d always concealed so well —Now pushed deeper down to the depths of his soul, you’d spend forever reaching for it if you had to.

And so you will.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

A/N

Another chapter of blue blood is in the works I promise.

Not proofread. Sort of rushed. But this is my compensation for a delay in activity, as I have been swept up in the whirlwind of school.👎

If your favorite season isn’t summer then imagine your fave season and what you like about it 🗿 I sorr

[xionl]

𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 !

About me !

I’m really interested with biology, science & learning about dinosaurs!

I also play IDV & i’m looking for someone to play with & someone that won’t just stop talking to me after a day or two of talking😞✊, & if anyone is interested add me on my discord ; bawl.sz

Interests : Identity v, Hsr, Crk, Blue Lock, Castlevania (Nocturne), Dmc, The walking dead, TGCF, Record Of Ragnarok, Resident Evil, Vtubers, The Dragon Prince, Pokémon, Devil May Cry (Anime), Roblox, JJK, Twisted Wonderland, Alice Madness Returns, Hunger Games, K-ON, Ghost Stories, Soul Eater, Vocaloid, Pjsekai, +more

& last thing I make fanfics when i’m bored so send requests if you’d like to!

Fandoms I Write !

Twisted Wonderland

Identity V

Blue Lock

Castlevania (Nocturne)

TGCF

Vtubers

[rinitoshiplzdateme]

i need a ryusae hunger games au where sae is shidous mentor in the games and gradually falls in love with him as time passes.

its kinda like a fell first x fell harder thing where shidou loved sae every since he saw sae win his games couple years ago.

but yeah overall i need a bllk x hg au in general

[celestial-jay213]

HELP PLEASE!!!!! I wanna start writing HC’S but I don’t know what to start with i have so many ideas but what would you guys like to see?

[cantheywinthehungergames]

Submitted anonymously

Keep Reading for Tribute Info

If you would like to see your favorite character either as a tribute or as a mentor, please fill out this Google Form. Just keep in mind that for mentor polls, they will be posted every Saturday so chances are it could take a long time before they are posted.

Please also look at my pinned post for submission rules as well as a list of previously submitted characters prior to submitting your character.

Tribute Name: Hyoma Chigiri

Age: 16-17 (throughout series)

Media: Blue Lock

Restrictions: No superhuman abilities of any kind

[giggly-squiggily]

SQUIGGILY :D hello :D i am sick and currently sobbing over the hunger games so i must ask- are you, per chance, into the franchise at any point in time because i might have cooked up a blue lock hunger games au

REY!!! Oh no, you’re sick? 😭🫂 I hope you feel better soon!

Oh my god the Hunger Games- don’t even get me STARTED! 😭😭😭 My heart still hurts for some in that story, stings with rage for others, sings for more- it was such a good series! I read the books/seen the movie a minute ago so the details are fuzzy, but damn if I didn’t have the best time! 🤩 (didn’t watch/read Ballad of snake birds or whatever though- I didn’t hear too many good things about it 😅)

So yeee! Go off friend! Lemme hear your Blue Lock AU! (I have a feeling I’m gonna cry lols) ((Also forgive me my replies are snail mail slow today I’m grocery shopping 😎))

[untitled-locket]

Looking for online friends

Dni if you are adult or just biggoted.

Requirements: must be round 15 and must speak english.

Things about me:

Age : i'm 15

Nationality : Georgia 🇬🇪

Fandoms i'm currently active in: hunger games (trilogy) ; alice in borderland;Arcane ; Atla ; apothecary diaries ;blue eyed samurai ; atsv...

Hobbies : Drawing / art&crafts , listening to music ,reading,doom scrolling.

Message me if you're interested~ ♡

[heich0e]

saw your tags and yes I'm a sae stan too 😳🤭

i don't know anything abt him other than he's hot and evil but fortunately that's my type

[luna-3-clips]

Blue Lock Hunger Games

Day 8

Anri bashes Snuffy's head in with a mace.

Isagi goes hunting.

Imamura dies from thirst.

Kaiser and Gagamaru split up to search for resources.

Iemon tries to spear fish with a trident.

Naruhaya attempts to climb a tree, but falls to his death.

Shidou practices his archery.

[dreamingjuno]

BLUE LOCK x The Hunger Games AU

( lazy comic of my AU concept ! )

[the-death-game-enthusiast]

Welcome to the Death Game Enthusiast, a new blog dedicated to the underappreciated genre that is Death Games!

Definition: a death game must have rules (even simple rules such as "win, get prize") and the penalty for losing must be death or similar (loss of career, livelihood, family, etc. also count) there's also almost always a host or mastermind to set the rules and/or mete out punishments

Popular Death Games you might know: The Hunger Games, Danganronpa, the Maze Runner series, Squid Game, the Future Diary, and even Blue Lock! There are many different types of death games, and my goal is to help as many people as possible appreciate the genre

Welcome to my blog everyone, sit down, relax! but don't relax too much... you never where your life will be tomorrow.

[cherienymphe]

A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque

summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.

~

You thought that it was over when you won.

That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.

Try your best to put him behind you.

So, why were you still being tormented?

When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.

…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.

“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.

His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.

“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.

The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.

…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.

“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.

That was all the confirmation you needed, really.

…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.

Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.

…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.

Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.

“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”

You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.

It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…

You’d die.

A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.

That was all.

You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.

So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.

At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.

“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.

Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.

“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.

The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.

If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.

You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.

That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.

Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.

You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.

You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.

“Of course.”

You didn’t know if you believed him.

…and Coriolanus could tell.

You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.

Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.

They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.

Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.

Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.

You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.

“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.

It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.

“…and why not?”

“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”

Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.

For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.

“…and if it does?”

He continued when you frowned.

“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”

“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”

You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.

“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”

The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.

You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.

You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.

“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”

You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.

“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”

His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.

“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”

You swallowed.

“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”

Another step towards you.

“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.

Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.

“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”

You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.

“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.

Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.

…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.

Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.

The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.

Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.

Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.

Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.

The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.

This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.

When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.

When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.

You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.

Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.

After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.

“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.

The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.

“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”

You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.

“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.

“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”

You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.

“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”

Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.

“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.

When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.

It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.

“I want you there with me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.

That thought did make tears spill over.

It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.

Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.

“I want you there with me,” he repeated.

You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.

“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.

His response was swift and clipped.

“You belong with me.”

When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.

Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.

You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.

When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.

You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.

“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”

You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.

You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.

He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.

When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.

You even thought you saw snow.

[haikyuubby]

go bother my bsf and fill her inbox with requests guys 🙏🏽

Introduction

hii, I’m relatively new on here.

I write fics about various characters or ocs from time to time.

**Smut / fluff / headcanons / x reader / character x character / female, male, gender neutral reader ALL WELCOME**

PLS give some requests if we share any interests! :vv

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Interests …

Animes:

Attack on Titan

My Hero Academia

Haikyuu

Demon Slayer

Chainsaw Man

Jujutsu kaisen

Blue Lock

Hunter x Hunter

Devilman Crybaby

Tokyo Revengers

Cartoons/Video Games:

Arcane

FNAF

Shows:

Alice in Borderland

Outer banks

Stranger things

Movies:

Harry Potter

Maze Runner

The Hunger Games

(highlighted are my current main interests)