#inspired by the Hunger Games

[writer-rider-flirty-thirties]

I reread The Black Games trilogy and I realized I never truly finished the last two chapters of the third installment (despite reading the whole triology at least five times) and y'all...

It rocked me emotionally.

Anyways, I love the trilogy so much and I'm so happy I finally got to finish it!

(also, it has my favorite OCs ever!!!)

[mysticraven20]

To Feel You Breathe

For @bohemianrhapsody711 number 4 of @kisspromptsforthelovesquare - "I thought I lost you" kiss.

Bringing this from the archives (Inspired by the Hunger Games)

Ladybug’s feet tangled around themselves and caused her to stumble over the rooftop. The toe of one foot collided hard with the heel of the other as she unceremoniously hopped in order to keep her stability. 

The sudden weight shift had her colliding hard with the chimney, clipping her shoulder and scraping it against the hard, rough brick. Her hand slapped onto the wall, pushing herself away before clutching her shoulder and carrying on. She had to keep moving. 

A red swirl of Ladybug’s continued to dance around in the sky, circulating over her head; a promise of revival, a promise of luck, a promise of hope. 

Her heart begged for the ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ to work the way it always did — rebuilding and reforming — as her mind reminded her about what was important.  She couldn’t stop and check everything was going to plan. Stopping would steal seconds away from her — precious seconds she didn’t have.

Paris began to put itself back together; growing and growing as buildings and monuments reposition themselves in their pride of place. Back to being important to the citizens of the city — but right now, none of these were important to her. 

She hadn’t bothered to stop to check on the victim, or speak to Alya and make her usual statement, as soon as the Lucky Charm was launched high up into the air, she ran – fast, and with intent. 

Taking a leap, she pushed herself from the rooftop landing straight onto the next; her feet never truly connected with the ground. She had tunnel vision; a one track in mind. 

She skidded to a halt, attempting to gain her bearings. She looked around, not entirely sure where she was. 

They’d started the fight in the 6th arrondissement. 

A glance down jolted something in her memory as she noticed the boutiques on street level. She recognised them straight away. The one on the corner was where she’d been browsing when the first fireball hit – smashing through the roof as though it was made of paper and causing the building to crumble quickly and efficiently. 

The Akuma had moved fast and struck hard — harder than she’d ever seen before — taking them on a tour of the city before she could finally conclude the fight near the Louvre. 

She couldn’t exactly remember where they were when it happened. The whole event felt like an out of body experience; her heart had become disjointed from her body as the Akuma’s hard hitting, soul destroying ray took everything out of her. 

Her eyes trailed the buildings in the east. Maybe, that had been the area. It definitely looked familiar – but so did an array of rooftops over Paris. Chimneys, rooftop gardens, walls — all an almost exact duplicate of each other.

Ladybug berated herself. She couldn’t remember where it had happened. All she could remember was the feeling of him disintegrating through her fingers as she tried to keep him conscious and with her. A slow, painful death orchestrated with loud, ear piercing screams. She’d held him tight and close; his body finally slipped through her fingers and faded away to nothingness – her own screams taking over the unfortunate symphony.

He had to be here. He had to be somewhere – here . She’d fixed it! That’s what she did.

Her eyes began to survey the area again, each breath catching hard in her throat with every beat of her heart. She stretched a hand up, clutching at her throat, at her chest – at anything – in hope it would help her breathe. Her airways tightening in reaction to the panic and the pain — labouring her breaths and causing her to claw at her throat.

The red above her head, abruptly, gave way to blue.

Normality.

An imposter against the storm brewing in her heart. 

Her feet began to move again, taking off in a feeble attempt of tracing her steps. The rooftop had to be near here. It just had to be.

Every single step caused a ricochet through her body, the pounding impacting in her head, as much as it was her heart. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her feet tangled like a mess of wires, snaking around each other in a practised and impossible entanglement, tripping her up and causing her to lose balance. Next thing she knew, she was falling. An unexpected twist of cruelty which took her down onto her knees. She fell hard, her hands  catching her before her face hit the ground, a droplet of water landing beside her glove, the grief of her loss fully on display for all to see — evidence of her failure. 

And the storm finally reached its superlative.

She used her hands to push herself up, but her knees were uncooperative and sent her stumbling forward once again. She dropped back onto the rough surface of the rooftop, her knees agonising from the impact on hard concrete against her skin, a feeling usually foreign when she was in her super suit. 

A heavy rattling sob became an echo of melancholy vibrating between rooftops. She couldn’t go on anymore. She couldn’t. She was done. She couldn’t breathe.

The rooftop was suddenly being coated in droplets of her sorrow, tiny pieces of anguish effortlessly falling on the ground without a care for ruining something previously untouched.

“I’m sorry.” She let out a sob. “I’m so sorry!” 

Laying her head in her open palms, she took the moment to be less than super, to feel everything that came with the grief of losing him, of not being able to save him. The memories she’d thought so little of passed through her mind in a film noir way. Times she should have done more, times she’d chosen to do less, times she’d taken him for granted. She wiggled her fingers wishing she could remember how he felt, his smooth skin and soft hair. But she’d failed. The gloves had always been in her way of really feeling him.

She could hear his voice echoing in her mind, words she longed to hear and would do anything for him to say again. The sweet distant call of him talking to ‘his Lady’. 

“Kitty,” she whimpered, an arm wrapping around her stomach as she held herself tightly. “Kitty!” Her voice was broken, every repeat of the word sounding foreign to herself. Was that really her voice? 

“M’Lady.” 

She heard it again. Chat Noir’s voice was clear in her ears, so concise; she was amazed she could remember it so distinctly. 

“Oh, Bug.” It was there again, this time closer. 

He was calling to her. 

“Bugaboo, come on!” 

She felt something on her hand, grasping it tightly. It felt so real, as did the hot breath on her neck. Almost as if he was here — with her.

Ladybug looked up, straight into the eyes of Chat Noir; her partner crouched down opposite her. 

“Are you really here?” she sobbed. “Is it really you?” 

A black, clawed hand stretched to her cheek, fitting perfectly against her chin as a cool thumb brushed away the tears gliding effortlessly down her face. He began to shush her, moving closer and using his other hand to claw through her hair.

“Real or not real?” she whispered, Chat Noir once again wiping away the tears on her face. One corner of his lips tugged upwards in that way she adored so much. 

“Real. I’m here. I’m back! You saved me.” 

With a trembling hand, she reached up and stroked over his face, tracing every part she could touch. She dragged her fingers around the edge of his mask, over his nose and cheeks before feeling the contour of his chin. It was all there. He was there. She completed the round once more, etching every single detail into her mind — positive she’d never forget the feeling of him again.

Launching herself into his arms, Ladybug cuddled him tightly, the sobs ripping through her body as her hands moved over his body. Threading in his hair and clawing at his back, before finding a home on his beating heart. The repeated consistency evening out her own.  

“You’re real!” she repeated, trembling before moving her arms and pulling him in closer. “You were dead!” she whimpered, everything shaking as she cried out the pain. “I felt you die!” 

He held her just as tightly, burying his nose into her hair as she continued to shake in his arms. A grasp that didn’t ease. Real.

“I’m here! I’m back. You saved me. You always save me.”

“You stopped breathing!” she said, gasping for her own breath as she continued to try and crawl at his skin. He was here. Her partner was here and she had never been more grateful for the power of the ladybugs. 

She continued to shake in his arms. 

He threaded his claws into her hair and gently loosened the ribbons freeing her hair and allowing him to massage her scalp. He placed his forehead against hers, brushing his nose delicately against hers.

“I’m breathing now. I’m here.” 

He moved forward and placed his lips against the corner of hers; a soft, electrifying kiss, which allowed the feeling of contentment to waterfall from her shoulders and release the tension she’d held so tightly. 

The night’s curtains began to draw, closing the brightness of day and leaving them with privacy amongst the stars, both interwoven as they soaked themself in the warmth of their love. 

“You love me?” Chat Noir whispered into Ladybug’s ear. “Real, or not real?” 

She pulled away from the hug, her hands clutching his and bringing them to her lips, a delicate kiss placed to each wrist. 

“Real.”

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against him, the solid feel of life beneath her. She loved him. She needed him. She wanted him.

Time didn’t record how long they stayed there, huddled tightly on the rooftop as they found solace in one another. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, even days or months, but it didn’t matter, because she was here, safe in his arms. And when she was here, with him, she could finally breathe again.

[crying-frog-writes]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard Characters: Andrew Minyard, Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick, Neil Josten, David Wymack, Betsy Dobson, Robin Cross, Jack (All For The Game), Sheena (All For The Game), Ichirou Moriyama, Riko Moriyama, Tetsuji Moriyama, Abby Winfield, Allison Reynolds (All For The Game), Renee Walker (All For The Game), Matt Boyd, Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Seth Gordon, Kevin Day Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Heavy Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Inspired by The Hunger Games, people die, like a lot, Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, this fic is rude and hurtful you have been warned, Slow Burn, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, I don't think the dove is dead, but someone should go check on it Summary:

The woman on the stage, Andrew couldn’t care less about remembering her name, puts her hand in the oversized glass bowl and makes a show of digging through the little slips of paper.

Thirty-Eight times. His name is in there thirty-eight times.

The woman smiles at the name in her hand, as if she were announcing a winner of some sweet game. As if she were picking a child to receive a present. So easily, so sickeningly sincere she reads the name from the paper.

“Aaron Minyard,”

And suddenly Andrew hears nothing. He doesn’t see Aaron blanch beside him. He doesn’t feel Aarons hand latch onto his arm. He doesn’t hear as Katelyn begins to sob. He doesn’t hear Nicky as he cries out. All Andrew sees is his brother on that television screen. He sees Aaron shot through the chest with the shaft of the arrow over his heart. He sees Aaron’s skull broken open with a rock. He sees the maybe hundreds of children he’s been forced to watch slaughter each other. He doesn’t feel as Aaron is torn from his side and forced to the center aisle, where he stumbles forward. Andrew sees his brother becoming just another name written in the capitals history only to be forgotten the following year and-

“I volunteer!”

-----

New chapter is posted!

[whenthewallfell]

I'll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out

[josielikesthg]

A pair of star-cross’d lovers

Was supposed to study Romeo and Juliet, didn’t get past the prologue

[crimalwx]

hey can anyone tell that i like Taph.

[chibinasuu]

I absolutely love how you write Sanji! The tenderness you give him is so comforting. Could you possibly write something where he has a nightmare and how the reader would help him through it?

hi anon!! thank you so much for your sweet words 🥺🫶🏻

i hope that tenderness is also present in this story, and i really hope you like it! not gonna lie, this was pretty hard to write. i just wanna wrap sanji in the biggest hug. our boy has been through so much 😭😭

Nightmares | Sanji x Reader

Tags: major spoilers for sanji's past and whole cake island arc, sfw, hurt/comfort, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

Sanji was no stranger to nightmares.

Unsurprisingly, many of his nightmares involved losing you. But believe it or not, those were the easier ones to get over. As soon as he woke up and saw you sleeping next to him, all of his panic and worries would dissipate.

No, the worst nightmares were the ones where his bitter memories blurred with even more horrors that his mind made up, tricking his brain until it was no longer aware of what was real and what wasn't.

He'd often dream of that solitary rock in the ocean. He'd dream that no ships passed by until his skin withered and only his bones were left to dry under the scorching sun. The hunger and thirst would feel so real that more often than not, Sanji would end up in the kitchen in the middle of the night, chugging three glasses of water and scarfing down a slice of bread before heading back to bed.

He sometimes relived being electrocuted by Enel's lightning, his whole body burnt into a crisp. In other dreams, it was Usopp and Nami who were struck, while Sanji watched helplessly, frozen by an unknown force that prevented him from reaching them.

Many times, he dreamed that he was still trapped in that dungeon, a heavy helmet locked to his head, the key nowhere to be found. He'd pull and pull, but the helmet wouldn't come off. He'd shout and shout, but no one would come and help him. Those dreams would always leave him waking up in cold sweat, grasping at the invisible iron upon his head.

Tonight, he was back on Whole Cake Island, looking down and seeing those wretched golden cuffs fastened on his wrists.

Vinsmoke Judge was there, sneering at him, "Useless—can't even do something as simple as getting married. You just needed to stand there and say ‘I do’. Was that too hard for your little brain to manage?"

His brothers were there, too. Their hard-as-steel legs finding his stomach, his back, his knees…

"Where are your little friends now?"

"Give it up, they're not coming."

"Why would they ever care about a weak coward like you?"

With a click of a button under Judge's fat thumb, the cuffs exploded and blew his hands off to bits.

Sanji woke up screaming.

He brought his hands up to his eyes, flipping them back and forth to ensure they were still there, not a scratch upon them. He clutched his precious hands to his chest, a sob threatening to escape him. His chest heaved as he struggled to fill his lungs with oxygen.

You were there in an instant.

Your hand was there, brushing his hair—damp with sweat—away from his face.

Your voice was there, gently hushing and comforting him.

"Sanji, love, breathe. It's alright. You're okay." You grabbed his face, guiding his sight to you, "Whatever it was, it wasn't real. You're okay."

You asked him to inhale with you, then exhale. His eyes slowly regained their focus.

"Tell me what's real." You'd prompt, "Your name is…"

"My name is Black Leg Sanji. I'm not a Vinsmoke. My father is Red Leg Zeff."

"That's right, honey. And where are you now?"

"I'm at the Baratie." He shifted his gaze out the window at the vast expanse of sea, the water glistening under the moonlight, "But, we're not in the East Blue. We moved this ship two years ago… to the All Blue."

He looked around again, taking in more of his surroundings, "I'm in my room—well, our room."

You nodded reassuringly, encouraging him to keep going as his breath gradually became steadier, "What else is real?"

He took your hand, thumbing the ring on your finger. Sanji's lips upturned into a soft smile—gone were all traces of the frown that marred his handsome face before—as he admired the matching ring that adorned his own finger, "You’re the one I’m married to. I proposed to you after Luffy became the Pirate King, and you said yes. I still can't believe that's real sometimes, but it is."

He placed a kiss onto your knuckles, the thin wedding band cold upon his lips, "I'm your husband."

You couldn't help but return his smile, "Yes, you are, baby."

Sanji sighed and laid his head on your chest.

You carded your fingers through his soft, golden hair as you held him close, "Feeling better now?"

"Much better." He looked up at you, "Thanks for always being here, darling."

When you first started sharing a bed, Sanji would apologize profusely whenever he unintentionally woke you up with his thrashing or screaming. You reassured him many, many times that he had nothing to be sorry about, even going so far as to reprimand him every time he apologized. But even after the apologies ceased, Sanji never failed to let you know how grateful he was that you were always there by his side.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

When Sanji shook his head, you changed your question, "Do you want to try going back to sleep?"

"Only if you do, too."

"Of course, love. Come here."

You pulled him down to lie flat on the bed, and he curled up to your side as you rearranged the covers to wrap around both of you. Sanji placed his head on your chest again, his ear resting right on top of your unwavering heartbeat.

"We need all the rest we can get." You kissed his forehead before continuing, "Luffy's arriving tomorrow, remember? I think he's picked up the rest of the crew along the way too, this time."

You booped his nose teasingly, "He definitely expects a feast, so you have a looong day of cooking ahead of you."

"Don't remind me." Sanji huffed as he snuggled closer to you, "I know the All Blue is overflowing with every kind of seafood imaginable, but with Luffy coming by so often, it won't be long until this ocean's drained."

You chuckled. He always complained, but you knew he loved it more than anything whenever the rest of the Straw Hats came to visit you two.

"Sleep, Sanji. I'll be here when you wake up."

You started humming an old North Blue lullaby you learned from Sanji long ago, back when you were still sailing on the Thousand Sunny. He told you that his mother used to sing this to him when he was little, and it was one of the only few good memories he had of his childhood. You gently stroked his hair, carrying on with your song until you felt his breathing slow.

There was never any guarantee that Sanji would remain asleep until morning. Sometimes he'd jerk awake again, but you didn't mind. You'd always be there to anchor him. To breathe with him, to hold him, to love him. You'd be there to remind him over and over that he was not alone, and that he would never be again.

⟢ masterlist

[bibbibib]

In the first book, Peeta is stung by tracker jackers, has the presense of mind to go back and find Katniss, shoos her away when Cato (who has also been stung) arrives, and gets severely injured but somehow not killed. (I think that's because both of them were hallucinating/willing to get out of there before their symptoms get worse).

He then proceeds to walk far enough for Katniss to have to track him for a while, find a good hiding spot close to a water source and camouphlage himself so well that even Katniss, a skilled hunter, couldn't find him. He did all that with a severely injured leg and three tracker jacker stings. He pushed the collapsing in hallucinations part for a long time. And then he stayed there for a week, infected, with no food, and didn't die.

In Catching Fire, Peeta gets electrocuted by the force field early on, and Finnick resuscitates him. He's young and healthy, and he wakes up, but electrocution alone would have left him painfully sore for a long time afterwards. All of his muscles would have contracted extremely hard and possibly spasmed when he was hit by the current, not to mention he was thrown forcefully back unconscious. I read a post a long time ago that described it as "feeling like he had the most brutal workout in his life". And then CPR is having someone literally pound on your sternum with enough force to get your heart to pump, multiple times. It hurts A LOT to be at the recieving end of it. And the muscle soreness takes days to go away.

Peeta literally spent the following days continually hiking, in the heat, with no water (until they figured it out), after all of that. He barely got any chance to recover, and a couple days later he was also taking turns with Finnick carrying Beetee on his back. Not to mention everything else that the others also went through. Oh, yeah, and he's got an amputated leg.

Talk about a strong constitution.

[karinasbaby]

prince lion hybrid heeseung & snow leopard reader — royal au, hunger games-like au, hybrid au obv. not proofread, posting this & going to sleep goodnight !

when the young leo was born to the kingdom, to his strong lion parents, it was marked down in history as the luckiest day for the empire.

just as the small cub hissed, his lean golden tail engulfing his father’s wrist as he cradled him, everyone in the room witnessed the timelines being rewritten.

the tears in the queen’s eyes at the sight of her strong son, the vibrating purrs of delight from the king that shook the entire chamber. the long awaited prince has finally arrived. a healthy, powerful and brave lion.

while on the the other side of the country, above the snow covered mountains and the misty air, the cry of another cub broke out.

one quieter, more wise. the tail of the hybrid fluffier, thick and icy. suited for the frosty temperatures.

held between lesser arms in comparison to the lion prince, quieter celebrations and a smaller achievement, a petite mark in the feline history.

you were embraced by snow, raised between the frozen flakes and the darkened wooden oaks. a jarring contrast from the blinding gold that surrounded the prince, the silk and ruffling robes that slashed like thunder behind him when he stomped through the royal hallways.

while your father taught you the weak points of the prey, how to efficiently sink your fangs when threatened— heeseung’s father trained him to wage war, illuminated his path to darker and deeper bloodbaths, drilled his sickened ideologies that have been carried within the empire for centuries.

that’s what the jungle lived by, a vastly different ground than the mountains. so one would wonder, how could your snowy path possibly cross heeseung’s golden one?

it was a cruel end to yours when you were pushed onto your knees in front of the king. the lion with the untamed mane and the coiling tail that his royal robes were never able to contain, forced. you didn’t want to be here.

while a leopard’s freedom should never be taken, that wasn’t a belief that swirled in the thick head of the lion king, much less his prince’s head as they both stood in front of the newest contestants.

the ones that will fight to death to earn a place in the jungle, the only place a feline would be forced to live in with the premise that it is a privilege, a blessing to be beneath the care of the king and under the wing of the empire.

but that was far from the truth— especially for you, if you were to judge from the way the king’s golden slit eyes twinged with hatred when they noticed your whitened fur. the disapproving snarl when your spotted silvery tail coiled behind you in alarm.

yet the prince’s eyes were gentle, they were curious as they studied the first snow leopard to paw above the royal grounds in centuries.

a mystery, a true divine enigma that he was thrilled to discover, to know.

and you knew now that your only problem wouldn’t be the king, it would be the prince’s wild curiosity as well.

[iiryebreadii]

hunger games au..........the brainworms have infected me. @aroace-get-out-of-my-face and everyone sending her asks, thank u for the delicious food

closeups of each lil doodle under the cut :)

[mysticraven20]

Wip

Her feet tangled around themselves and caused her to stumble over the rooftop. The toe of one foot collided hard with the heel of the other, making her hop from one to another to keep her stability. The loss of balance had her colliding with the chimney, her shoulder scraping against the hard, rough brick as she continued to move forward. She had to keep moving.

The red swirl of Ladybug’s continued to dance around in the sky, circulating over her head; a promise of revival, a promise of luck. Her heart begged that the ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ worked the way it always did — rebuilding and reforming. She didn’t have time to stop and check, stopping would steal seconds from her — precious seconds she didn’t have.

Paris began to put itself back together. Growing and growing as buildings and monuments reposition themselves in their pride of place. Back to being important to the citizens of the city, but right now, none of these were important to her.

She hadn’t bothered to stop to check on the victim, or speak to Alya, as soon as the charm was launched she ran – fast, and with intent.

Taking a leap, she pushed herself from the rooftop straight onto the next, she could have been flying seeing as her feet didn’t truly connect to the solid ground. She had tunnel vision; a one track in mind.

[cutter-kirby]

gregor the underland chronicles is literally so fundamental to me. this boy is a natural born killer. trained to be a martyr. and he is kind. he is angry. he cares so much for the unloved. he is always willing to give people a chance, so aware of how others can change. the warrior and son of the sun. the intersection of protection and destruction. and he is 11/12 years old.

[tonixe]

✿ good girl

`` a/n: this fic is inspired by princessbellecerise and sugerapplefairy, low-key reader being a little cute bimbo is living rent-free in my head like omg, like it's living in my brain.

warning: misogynistic coriolanus, smut, objectification, dumbification, creampie, spanking, bathroom sex, groping, kitchen sex, reader being a housewife, reader being a stupid little bimbo + nymphet.

pairing: coriolanus x bimbo!reader

word counter: 1.2k

ਏਓ ` Imagine being coriolanus stupid bimbo wife, it is easy to be with him. He gives you a stress-free, lavish life with money, expensive things, and jewelry. It was an easy choice for Coriolanus to pick you, you were attractive, with perfect curves sculpting on your petite body and dreamy tits propping up on your chest. It was easy to control your little empty head, he controlled what you do, money, and everything making sure your being a good little girl.

ਏਓ ` A good little housewife for him, you cook, clean for him, and wearing a cute light dress, and no panties or a bra underneath because you knew coriolanus hated not having easy access to you. Every time coriolanus came home, you were always awake, running a bath for him, but what would always happen would be him fucking you in the tub, soap suds covering your body. Your hands holding the sides of the bathtub, as he abused your cunt, mewls rolling off your tongue.

ਏਓ ` When coriolanus is stressed, you would always know what to do, taking his cock down your throat making you gag, tears pricking your waterline, moaning out. His hands force you down the shaft of his cock, facefucking you. Rolling your tongue at the tip of his cock, your lips bitten up, your mascara smudging your blushy cheeks, making eye contact with him as you took him whole.

ਏਓ ` he loves either making you swallow his cum or giving you a facial, his cock spurring cum onto your little cute face and your perky chest. On your knees like a whore for him, coated in his warm hot cum.

ਏਓ ` He loves groping your chest when he stressed, his rough hands twisting your delicate nubs making you squirm from his touch, clenching around nothing. Even fingering you, he enjoys dumbing you down, it stroked his ego. Your little screams and yelps, boosting his ego.

ਏਓ ` Your little play doll for him to change, shape, and form. He programs you to do things he wants, and you just nod your head at his words though you don't understand them, just giving him a smile on your lips. A sexual object for him to put his cock in and breed, as he spreads your legs apart, your delicate fingers already spreading your pussylips for him, ready to take his cock inside of you. Biting your lip, rolling your eyes as he plunges into you. Harsh comments slipped out of his mouth like 'Slut', 'whore' or 'Bitch' as he harshly fucked you, almost making you bleed.

ਏਓ ` When he's working on important papers for work, you would be his cocksleeve, his cock stuffed into your wet cunt. Slopping sounds coming from you, as he did his work. His cock bulging in your stomach, squirming around. Your cheeks being flushed, and your lips bitten up, all red. Your nipples poked out from the light fabric of the dress, whines coming out from your mouth and him just ignoring you as you tried to move but everytime he would purposely smack his pelvis into you, making you jolt.

ਏਓ ` Coriolanus loves to see his bimbo wife all dolled up in lingerie or short-dressed, making sure to order a bunch for you and giving you an extra amount of money to buy the special lingerie he likes. Bunch of reds, pink, and whites. All lacy, with bows, ribbons, some tights, and garters. Your body lying down on the bed, all dressed up for him to just ruin you.

ਏਓ ` Imagine being in the kitchen, making dinner for him and his hands just all over you, his lips on your neck, and him grinding on your ass. It was super hard for you to stay focused, trying to make him stop but you knew he wouldn't just for you to bend over, your dress flipped and fucked raw, his cock slipping in and out of you, your face on the cold porcelain counter.

ਏਓ ` He loves to edge you, slapping his cock onto your clit, watching you as you writhe being desperate to be filled.

ਏਓ ` He loves to punish you for stupid things just to emphasize his control over you, making sure you crawl on all fours, in your cami dress, while he sits on a red velvety couch, as you crawl to him looking up at him, with a sad expression, tears dripping down on your cheeks. You felt guilt about what you did, though you didn't know it yourself. Laying on your stomach, bent over on his lap. Your body was almost bare, just a light dress covering you. As he spanks you, your body jolts from the pain, fat tears dripping from your eyes, his hands slapping the plush of your ass. Your whines falling deaf on his ears.

ਏਓ ` When Coriolanus fucks he loves pulling by your hair, forcing you up as he plunges into you further, doggy style, his cock kissing your cervix deliciously. His finger slipped into your mouth, gagging your moans, being forced to breathe through your nose, his cock snapping into you.

ਏਓ `Coriolanus always track your cycle, making sure to cum into you a lot when your ovulating, so you'll be pumped with his warm cum burrowing into you further. He would love to see your stomach filled with cum, awaiting a baby. Your breast filled with milk, and your belly all round and big, even if you were pregnant he would still fuck you, just more gently, but still hard.

[whenthewallfell]

~ I Got Them Quarter Quell Blues ~

[whoeromcflurry]

(Buttercup sulking and jingling as he jumps off of Peeta's lap)

Haymitch: A bell? Seriously,Peeta?

Katniss: Isn't that a violation of his civil rights?

Peeta: You two have been bickering for the past three days about him attacking Haymitch's geese!

Katniss: Yeah,but doesn't it seem a little...I don't know...undignified????

Peeta (smiling): Since when are you concerned with his dignity? I thought he was "just a cat"

Katniss: As a hunter,I mean. Doesn't that put him at a disadvantage?

Haymitch: I'm actually with Katniss on this one

Peeta: Well,if the bell has accomplished anything,it's gotten you two to stop arguing

Katniss and Haymitch in unison: NO IT HASN'T

[atelierlili]

Modern AU where Katniss is a forest ranger that patrols the local woods until one day she comes across some guy cooking up a fucking 5 Michelin star meal in the wilderness and filming it for TikTok.

Peeta falls in love at first sight cause he think looks like some she’s some forest nymph with a voice of an Angel.

After that, they have weekly cookout where Peeta’s meals get even more elaborate and delicious because Katniss brings him fresh game.