#the abomination that is my dinner

[dubioushonour]

I can't cook for other people without a recipe in front of me. This isn't because I'm not confident in my cooking abilities. I am! This because without instructions I WILL overspice everything I make because my taste buds are non-existent and I think it tastes very good.

But idk if it's edible to anyone else tho

[amandabe11man]

guys call 112 they rebooted and uglified mumfie too

[sunflowergarland]

is pasta salad worth trying

[kaaaaaaarf]

So I watched that episode of Our Flag Means Death where Ed finds the bunny and thinks it's a wolf and thought, what if Remus was a wererabbit and Sirius had no idea? Anyways, have a drabble.

Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy)

Hogwarts Era. 654 words. Wererabbit Remus. G.

Remus' floppy ears twitch unhappily. He had been so careful—so careful not to let his friends see the monster he becomes every full moon. He thought he was sneaky, when he made his way out of the castle before dinner—after the other boys had already left for the Great Hall, but here is Sirius, standing above him with wide eyes. He'd seen the whole thing, the whole transformation—running into the clearing before Remus could even shout at him to stop. Before his body bent and twisted violently into a monster.  Remus' tiny body shakes in fear. Finally, after an impossibly long moment, Sirius seems to come back to himself. "R—Remus? Are you—you're a werewolf?"  …I'm a what now? 

"I thought maybe you were upset about Snape ruining your Potions final when you didn’t follow us down to dinner, so I came back to find you and saw you sneak out of the castle. I decided to  follow you, but I didn't think...Oh my God. You're so...so...cute."  Remus' nose twitches in a way that he thinks sufficiently expresses his shock and distaste. He’s not cute. He’s fearsome! An abomination! Sirius, unafraid, crouches down and strokes a gentle hand over the tawny fur on his back.  Okay, well Remus doesn't hate that.  Sirius scratches behind one floppy ear, and it makes Remus’ back foot twitch. Sirius smiles. "Are you a friend, wolf? Merlin, wait til I tell James about this! Our Moony—a real bloody werewolf!" and then as quickly as he’d appeared, he's gone, running off back toward the castle. It's just as well, Remus is dangerous like this. As much as he would love some company on the moons, one bite is all it would take and he could turn Sirius, too. He couldn't live with himself. Remus has just finished snacking on some grass, and is just about to hop into the underbrush to play chase with the rabbits of the Forest, when Sirius comes running back, this time with James in tow. Great. "See James! That's Remus, he's a werewolf!"  James, who is bent over trying to catch his breath, looks up at him like he's stupid. "That's a rabbit, Sirius." "No...I saw him transform—that’s Remus. He's a werewolf." "At best that's a wererabbit." He looks down at Remus, his face twisted in thought. "Sorry Remus, just a sec. Sirius—" he looks back up at the other boy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “—have you ever actually seen a rabbit before?" "Well, not precisely...Grimmauld is in the middle of London, not exactly teeming with rabbits and the like." "Babbity Rabbity? Surely you've read Babbity Rabbity at least." "I'm pretty sure Babbity Rabbity would never make it into the Black family library. Not macabre enough." James sighs. "Okay well, I’m telling you that's a rabbit." James points down at him, and Remus twitches his nose, hoping it conveys how tired he is.  Sirius stomps his feet, insistent. “But his last name is Lupin, not Lapin! He's Wolfie McWolf, not Bunny McRabbit!” “I’m pretty sure his name has nothing to do with which were-animal decided to take a chunk out of him, Sirius!” Remus tries to hop away while they’re fighting, but Sirius spots him and scoops him up into his arms. “Oh no you don’t! Come on Remus, I’ll sneak you back into the castle—get you something to munch on. What do rabbits eat, anyway? Hay? Flowers?”  Human flesh.  “They eat grass and, like, carrots. Good call though, better get him inside before an actual wolf spots him. Come on, Remus.” And that’s how Remus finds himself, a few hours later, in a soft bed, snuggled under the covers with Sirius’ hand gently resting on his furry back. He supposes being found out isn’t so bad, and if he wakes up in the morning—human again, Sirius spooning against his back, he thinks that might actually be even better.

[velvetvexations]

I'm probably beating a dead horse but the thing that really bothers me about the idea that "women can wear pants but men can't wear dresses" is that it's literally not true in multiple parts of the US! I grew up in a household where I was forced to wear dresses, forced to keep my hair long, my parents even had a problem with me wearing mostly black and publicly cried tears of joy in a dressbarn when I tried on a floral pink top.

there were also strict gender roles in the household! my brother and male cousins got to watch tv or play while I and my female cousins had to help prepare and clean up after meals. at family gatherings i was told explicitly that "little girls should be seen and not heard". my older brother's only chore was taking out the trash whereas I was expected to parent my little sister, keep the kitchen, living room, my room, and my little sister's room clean, make dinner when my mother couldn't, help with laundry, and when my mother worked overnight shifts I was responsible for getting my older brother, father, and younger sister up in the morning, get my sister dressed, pack her lunch, and get her on the bus in time- all while being expected to excel in school. the division of labor is stark and defying it is a form of gender nonconformity! I got physically punished and socially ostracized for questioning this dynamic or resisting my "feminine duties"! I was also constantly pressured to have children despite adamantly saying for years I didn't want any! not wanting to be a mother is a huge form of gender nonconformity! also, while pants generally might be degendered, other masculine attire very much isn't. for school events there was a gendered dress code (dances, graduation, awards ceremonies) and not abiding by the dress code would incur punishments up to detention or not walking for graduation. in the area i grew up in you get disgusted looks (and sometimes verbally harassed or hatecrimed) for having a masculine style haircut, wearing a masculine cut suit, wearing men's dress shoes, wearing masculine streetwear styles, etc. Masculine gender presentation is NOT JUST PANTS and IS PUNISHED in women and trans people who were AFAB Not everywhere is a progressive haven where childfree women with buzzcuts that wear men's clothing face no backlash, discrimination, or harassment

Your parents sound like such fucking abominable people and it bothers me so much that people like that still exist in this world.

I'm sorry for what you went through growing up, anon, and I'm glad you're out of that situation now. <3

[catpriciousmarjara]

DC x DP

Bruce finds out Dick is dating Dan(Dark Danny) Phantom

Bruce: You can't date an eldritch ghostly abomination!

Dick: Oh my god Bruce don't be so ectophobic

Bruce: He destroyed the world and killed us all!

Dick: ooooh come on that was like an entire timeline ago. Get over it already! Ghosts change! He even did community service.

Bruce: You still can't date someone that murderous!

Dick: You dated Khoa! I was there for that mess!

Bruce: That was different!

Dick: Oh it was? Then I guess I'll go and date Slade then! How about that huh?

Bruce: ......

Bruce: Eldritch abomination is fine. Bring him around for dinner.

The batsiblings watching this all happen from the sidelines - entertained as fuck

(Later)

Tim: So are you gonna tell Bruce you're seeing Jazz or?

Jason: oh hell no

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Obsessed with my mother texting me to ask if I heard about the Super Bowl rumors.

[nvuy]

I find it kinda funny the way you react differently with Boothill and Sunday in terms of writing but they both hold the same flavor of “I want him carnally.” Keep up the wonderful work

PLEASE they’re so different it’s hilarious. gross loser with a cowboy hat that’s terrible at hiding his feelings and another gross loser with angel wings who’s slightly better at hiding his feelings but only because that’s what expected of him.

i could actually yap about them for hours…

cyborg abomination, last washed (can he bathe?) 58269652 days ago, scuffed boots but keeps them spurs polished, definitely chews hay, swallows bullets and can catch a fired one between his teeth with zero effort because his teeth are fake, probably jumps in mud puddles if given the opportunity (not like a child, but more like if he’s walking he’ll stamp in it, because he can)

versus

last washed one hour ago and smells purely of dove soap and an orchard on a rainy day, actively watches for his appearance, obsessed with organisation and order, and also actively avoids mud puddles.

but at the same time by the gods if they both don’t fret over your appearance. sunday’s more formal in the matter; he likes to dress you up if given the opportunity. fancy dinners, and he’s already organised your outfit down to the core. he likes to see you presentable, but there’s also something so raw and gorgeous about how horrible you look when you wake up (he’s swooning despite his straight face. if you’re not already jealous of his flawless he looks in the morning, that is).

sunday also absolutely loves when you keep him company in the office, even if you’re a total distraction. it’s not even your fault either. you could be doing something else entirely in the corner on a couch and his eyes will wander. don’t sit in his lap because then he’ll be a lost cause entirely.

boothill will doll you up too, don’t get me wrong, but it’s more of a “hey i bought you this and you’d probably look hot in it” and he’s always right. you’re more fretting over his appearance than anything—he doesn’t mind.

brush his hair all you want. if you wanna braid his hair, go for it. he’ll keep it like that for the rest of time if he could. his hair isn’t exactly real, nor does it grow, so it doesn’t really need to be washed, and the strands are effortlessly silky. he’ll let you do anything to him, it’s that bad. he’d probably let you push him off a cliff. and yes, you can use his little ports to charge your phone, even if he whines every time about it.

the white hair is natural, by the way. definitely had very very dark brown hair that his fathers loved to take care of, and then when he lost his daughter, it was a case of marie antoinette syndrome (whether it exists is debatable, but for my mind’s sake, yes).

[rzyraffek]

Slashers with housewife s/o

(She/her)(swf) I was writing it for hour and it didnt save tnere is a lot of dialogue this color is slasher talking and this one is s/o. Its mostly written for fun Request open

Thomas Hewitt

P r o t e c t

He is triple cousious with his victims now! He would not forgive himself if one of them hurt her! And I dont thinl s/o likes gore so dont go near basement hon pls

*tommy vibing outside* "Uhhh Tommy? Theres some guy in livingroom" 🤨😨

Even tho she is hausewife he is hausehusband so yall Just vibe while cooking and cleaning

The Micheal Myers

"Micheal make sure to wear something under this jumpsuit, its cold outside!"

S/o getting him a phone and texting him every second he's out

Please Micheal stop killing people in our livingroom, this carpet costs more that my kidney

Once he gave her a knife he stole from some girl that tried to Defend herself

I can imagine s/o texting him stuff like "at 5pm u better be home, i made your favorite food" he will speedrun to home, he loves food

Collector

*phone rings at 3am* "Honey why you calling me, im at work?" "ASA THERE IS HUGE SPOODER IN BATHROOM HELP I CANT PEE" "omygod not again"

Due to s/o being often home alone (he is busy man) she will probably find some sort of hobby?(obviolusly) I can see her learning how to do crocheting. LIKE IMAGINE: "Asa i made you this cute sweater Look!" (There are to ways he will answer that) option1: "yeaah thanks that suuuper cute will wear it for sure"(never wears it) option 2: "what kind of abomination is that"(will wear it at work)

Bonus points if the oomgomgomg IF SHE MAKES SWEATER WITH MOTHS ON IT OR COCKROACHES (you know the funny gif with spining cockroach?yep this one) HE WILL LOVE IT(secretly) He would love to wear it to work but Hes afraid of destorying it (No, because imagine Arkin living in hell and the guy that tortures him for months just cames in cute sweater with cockroaches on it)

Yaujta

"??? Mate u mean u want to stay here and take care of nest while I go out??? I mean sure? Eem take care??" Confused af, like in his culutre both partners Hunt and tbh theres non long lasting relationships, only to make babis so it is weird.

He wants her to stay by his side 24/7 so he will be grumpy

But idea of her making amazing food while he is out just for him is too good to pass

Especally if its made of foods that he hunt, brings him pride

Imagine learning him how to use fork "nono honey u grab it like that and stab the food. Nono gently nonoo oh noo *break plate* "why use that when im litteraly apex predator hon imma-*eats whole plate of food with plate*

Billy lenz

F o o d

He loves food she makes

She hangs out in house so its win-win.

He will hug her alot and try to take her attencion from whatever she does to him!!

"Billy go help me chop carrorts for dinner!" *billy speedruning from upstairs* "🥺whar are carrots?"

Brahms Heelshie

"Mmm :) " "Brahms stop staring at me and help me clean kitchen' "yes honey :("

He does not rule in this relationship

He may act intimitading but He is just a shy bean

He does not know how to food, he will try to eat uncooked potato while shes not looking mmm forbiden apples

Hush man

Hes into that, prefers his wife to be like that

He loves picking her up and runinning arond hause

No matter how long yall are into relaionship he will be nervous before any dinner u eat together or be so happy everytime he sees her after he comesback home

Found it in my drafts!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

what i want in a shroud “hometown” event

The only other prominent Shroud family member mentioned + we have not met is Aidne. She is Idia’s father’s mother and the previous director of Styx, as she passed away some time ago. That means there wouldn’t be anyone new from the Shroud family that we could meet…

BUT

What about the Jupiter family 👀 We coild meet them and get the lowdown on the d r a m a…

Because thinking about it, there seems to be tension between the main family and the Shrouds, who are considered a “branch family” and tried to rebel long ago to claim power from the Jupiters. That makes me think that the other Olympians are branch families as well (making ~12 in total)??? Their gatherings might be stressful… Squabbles to curry favor and gather power for themselves, all that. I wanna see Idia anxious about those dinners, all his odd relatives, how he gets along (or doesn’t get along) with a twisted!Zeus. I’m biased for this kind of stuff because I love the Fey family drama in Ace Attorney—

ALSO

I NEED to know how the rest of the family sees Ortho. My initial impression was that Shroud Mama and Papa would reject him, but they happily accept Ortho as one of their own (which is an inversion of how Hades thought the dead he watched over were “dumb and uncouth”). What about their extended family then? Are they also accepting? Or do they just see Ortho as a piece of technology or another interesting test subject???? Or worse, an abomination 😭

I want more family drama and angst please 🤲

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (5) - City Lights

Cover by: @ortegalvr

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

Word count: 2k

-So when I touch that sky, will the ladder break? And who will be there on my fall from grace?-

One of the reasons why you began loving acting was the sense of community, regardless of how short it lasted, regardless of how rare a long-lasting bond would be formed on sets. When on set you could always count on someone to gather everyone else, to be the center around which the rest of the cast would gather. It certainly was never gonna be you, you were happy showing up and being there, most of the time, but you didn’t really feel like being the force pulling the entire cast together.

Probably why you and Jenna clicked so well, she was also private, keeping mostly to herself, even if she was there with everyone else.

It was only after a few days passed and you got used to once again living alone in your apartment in Denver. The late November rain didn’t surprise you much, even if Denver was really sunny. You were just about to fall asleep on your sofa when your phone buzzed a few times in your pocket. You were tempted to ignore it, but it might be for the role you auditioned for. You smiled when you saw it was a message from Jenna, on Instagram. You opened it and saw it was a couple of photos, one of just Jenna, giving you a thumbs up while holding a piece of icy wind cake and text on the photo saying ‘You’ve got competition.’ You chuckled, figuring her mom made the cake, the second photo was of her family all posing for a family photo and having a Thanksgiving dinner. Damn, you actually forgot it was Thanksgiving.

21:54 Jenna Ortega: Happy Thanksgiving, Y/N! Thanks for the recipe by the way, my family loves it. ❤️❤️

You smiled, she looked really happy in the photos. And her family was huge, she told you, of course, but hearing and seeing a photo were two entirely different things.

21:56 Y/N L/N: Thanks, Jen, happy Thanksgiving to you too. Save me a piece of cake?

You set the phone aside and figured you could at least drink something, only to remember your fridge was mostly empty at the moment. You really needed to go and get groceries. At least there was some strawberry juice in the fridge and some improvised pasta. Damn, you actually had to make an improvised pasta dish, of all the known recipes you ended up making some improvised abomination. Oh well, at least it was tasty.

22:03 Jenna Ortega: Come and get it Chef. Any chance you could give me a tiny sneak peak into your own dinner?

Well, now that was a tough task to complete.

22:05 Y/N L/N: Sure

You snapped a photo of a glass of strawberry juice and sent it to her.

22:06 Jenna Ortega: Come on! Don’t tease me 🥺

22:06 Y/N L/N: I’m not, I didn’t make anything, I kinda forgot about Thanksgiving.

You noticed Jenna saw the message and set the phone aside when he didn’t respond. She hadn’t seen her family in roughly two months, hell, she had her eighteenth birthday away from them, so you figured she wanted to spend time with them.

But just as you got up to read the new script you got for a movie your phone began ringing and you raised an eyebrow seeing it was Jenna. You picked up and sat back down on the sofa. “L/N Delivery, how may I help you?” you said as professionally as you could with a grin on your face and heard Jenna inhaling sharply before laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said through laughter.

“Yeah, and you love it,” you said confidently making Jenna pause.

For a moment you feared you overstepped some boundary. “I do, don’t I?” she said a bit out of breath and just for a moment she even sounded playful, and you nearly choked on the sip of strawberry juice you just took. “Anyway, how come you forgot?” she quickly changed the subject.

“I lost track of dates, and no one reminded me,” though you probably should have noticed the rush everyone seemed to be in. “How are you? Are you having fun with your family?”

You could almost hear her nodding and smiled, the chatter of the people in the background wasn’t nearly as loud as you expected, so she stepped aside. “It feels so good to be with my family again, I missed them all,” you guessed she glanced back at her family. “I had to do the dished today, and let me tell you, there was a lot,” she wasn’t even complaining, she actually sounded happy.

“Reeree, come on! Talk on your phone later!” you heard a female voice shouting and guessed Jenna was the one being called.

“It’s important!” Jenna yelled back and you felt the warmth engulfing you at that.

“Hey, we can talk later, go have fun,” you told her softly, knowing by now that she just called you to check up on you.

Jenna paused and you waited patiently as she made the decision. “When are you going to come here?” she asked.

“On Monday,” you told her, while you and Jenna knew you��d visit her and meet her family, which was, to be honest, a bit frightening, you didn’t know when you would be able to come until a few hours ago, you just didn’t get the chance to tell Jenna about it. It was still only Thursday, so you didn’t think you needed to rush to tell her.

“Okay, I’ll see you then. Are you sure you don’t want to keep talking with me?” she still offered.

“I want you to have time and make up for being away from your family,” you assured her. You would never, in your most fever-induced dreams, tell her you didn’t want to talk to her, but you knew how much she missed her family and you didn’t want to take away from her time with them tonight.

“Okay, sleep well,” she told you.

“You too,” you were worried about her insomnia, and you could only hope she could fall asleep and not have troubles with insomnia while she was back home.

~X~

On Monday you came to Coachella Valley early in the morning and managed to find a coffee shop Jenna told you about. The plan was simple, you and Jenna would meet up, hang out, maybe go for a walk so she could show you the place she grew up in, and then you’d go with her to her parents’ house for lunch.

You saw her waiting near the entrance, wearing a nice blue sweater, her hair was a bit wavy and of course she had her headphones around her neck. “Jen!” you called out to her and her face immediately lit up when she saw you. You’ve wrapped filming Scream a bit over a week ago, but it still felt really good to see her. It felt even better to hug her and feel her tightening her hold on you as she got on her toes.

“It’s so good to see you, again,” she muttered, neither of you in a rush to end the hug just yet. Eventually though you did have to keep in mind that someone might recognize Jenna if you stayed on the street for too long and reluctantly let go of her. “Come on,” she still took your wrist as you walked into the coffee shop and ordered your drinks.

You pulled a chair out for Jenna and bowed a bit, motioning toward it with a goofy grin on your face. Jenna rolled her eyes, used to some of your antics. She still sat down and let you push her chair closer to the table before sitting down. “How do you like Coachella so far?” she asked as she leaned forward a bit, her focus was solely on you, and you felt the intensity of her gaze.

“Verdict to be decided, but so far so good,” you told her as you damn near mirrored her posture, you definitely leaned closer to her.

“I’ll have to show you all the good places,” she made it clear that this wouldn’t be the only time she expected to have you visit her. And you were willing to bet she wanted you to spend more than half a day with her as well. Maybe book a hotel room and stay a few days, that would probably work.

You could definitely do that. “I’ll be counting on you. So, any new projects?” you knew she couldn’t talk much about them, just clarify if she would be busy.

“Yes, actually. I have a movie in New Zealand next year, probably around February, and some voice acting as well,” she didn’t say much, she couldn’t, but she did give you a bit of a timeline. Enough to know where she would be. “You?”

“Can’t say much, but I got a psycho role in a psychological thriller, so, I’ll be spending some time in Italy next year,” Jenna hummed when you said that, clearly supportive of the idea. You were much more relaxed about things you talked about. You certainly knew when to shut up, but this was Jenna, and you trusted her. Well, regardless of that, there really wasn’t much of a plot revealed in what you said. And your character did appear to be a psycho for a good part of the movie. “Might turn into a trilogy, but who knows, depends on the book author.”

“I can’t wait to see you in that role,” she told you, genuinely happy for you. “Who is the author?”

“Donato Carrisi, wrote a bunch of books, including The House of Voices that the movie will be based on,” you told her and abruptly stopped talking as you noticed the girl working in the coffee shop bringing you your drinks.

You and Jenna thanked the girl, and you quickly paid before Jenna could even get the chance.

“Come on,” she rolled her eyes as she put away her wallet. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Some other time,” you winked at her and chuckled when she immediately looked down.

She cleared her throat. “What about that TV show you auditioned for?”

You shrugged. “Someone else got the part,” it sounded like a cool show, but you kind of had to be cautious with TV shows, seeing the kind of commitment they required.

Jenna nodded. “Well, you got another opportunity, so it worked out well, right?” she had an easy smile on her face as you nodded.

“So, tell me about this place?” you suggested and it got Jenna talking. Before you knew it, you were walking all around the place, seeing all the best spots as Jenna led you anywhere she thought you’d like.

And then it happened. At around 2 p.m. Jenna stopped and turned to you. “Time to meet my family,” she said softly, and you could see it in her eyes. If you chose not to meet her family she’d stand by your decision, supporting you entirely.

“Let’s go,” you still said, much more confidently than you really were. Right, meeting the family. You actually forgot about that. Why did you feel like you were meeting your lover’s family and like you were supposed to ask for Jenna’s hand in marriage or at the very least her parents’ blessing to try and date her?

You were probably just nervous for no reason. You didn’t even have those intentions with Jenna.

Right?

Regardless of your intentions, you once more felt Jenna’s fingers wrapping around your wrist and you let her guide you back to her house, nervous, but also eager to leave a good impression on her family.

A/N: Short, but a rather quick update, so here, have some fluff after the slight angst from last chapter.

@lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths @niqmandu

[eymie]

COME HERE, DRESSED IN BLACK NOW !

masterlist

pairing: politian!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: smut, degradation, dirty talk, oral (m. receiving and f. receiving), overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, tummy bulge, cream pie, choking

summary: coriolanus keeps you on a tight leash but when you act out he needs to put you in your place.

a/n: this is literally the first thing i ever wrote on this account but never finished. when i take my time to actually write well😧😧😧😧 it’s so mf long sorry it just got lore (like 4000 words)

Coriolanus had chosen you. You were the one with the ring on your finger. The one with his initials around your neck. You were his.

That didn’t prevent him from being cold and distant. Locked up in his office during the and into the night occasionally. Breakfast and dinner he sat across from you with his eyes scanning the newspaper.

You weren’t his fiancée, you were his pawn. Someone for him to show off, someone to carry his heirs.

In public, he’d wrap his arm around your waist, tugging you tight to his side. You didn’t know if it was to show you were a happy couple or territorial.

Maybe he didn’t love you, or even like you. But, nonetheless, you belonged to him. The abomination it would be to his reputation to have his fiancée acting out. For you to act like a whore in public. So he kept you on a tight leash.

Most the time.

Tonight was your engagement party. He let you plan an extravagant gala, whatever you wanted he got you. You chose the theme, the music, the food. Of course, he chose the people. Running for president and such requires the right people at your events.

And tonight, you got to choose your own gown. It was black and tight, to go along with your theme. You chose black and silver, knowing you had the perfect heels.

Coriolanus doesn’t share a bedroom with you, he claims it’s inappropriate considering you two aren’t married yet. But that didn’t stop him from slipping his hand under your skirt two weeks ago. You and Coriolanus haven’t gone the full way in weeks, that was your goal for tonight.

When Coriolanus decided he wanted to fuck you, it was to release his frustrations not yours. He fucked you because he needed it. You never really came, it was your problem not his. Your fingers never helped.

He said once before that it doesn't count if he isn't making love to you, and he wasn't.

Living with him for two months, you’ve picked up a few things. You know what makes him itch, what makes him needy. You know damn well that he would’ve stand for a brat as fiancée, but you knew he wouldn’t leave you.

You just wanted his attention, for him to really need you. Not a stress fuck, not a pity kiss. You wanted him to crave you. You knew he was possessive, he never hid that side of him. You knew he was a jealous man, that one he wouldn't willingly admit. You knew exactly what strings to pull to have him trail right after you.

He had technically paid for this dress, it was tight and hugged your body in all the places you needed. Long enough to be considered modern, neckline low enough to be considered slutty. The necklace with his initial "C" hanging around your neck, just above your cleavage. You wore sheer black shawl around your arms to cover up if needed be.

You heard heavy footsteps down the hall, an assertive knock on the door to your bedroom. You tug down your neckline slightly, padding over to the door. You turned the knob, pulling open the door to see Coriolanus. His blond curls now slicked neatly, instead of a red suit he wore plain black.

Coriolanus leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable as he observed you getting ready. The engagement part loomed, and in his stoic demeanor, there was a hint of the complexities that lay beneath.

Catching his eye as you adjusted her gown. "Yes?" You questioned, sensing the tension in his demeanor. The one-word exchange hung in the air.

"Guests will be arriving soon, we'll need to be greeting them together." He stated matter-of-factly, his voice was cold, emotionless. He was so perfect, in the sense of his posture and the way he carried himself. His eyes bore into yours, avoiding looking at your body.

A quiet "Mhm" escaping your lips, acknowledging him.

Coriolanus eyes flickered down to the swell of your breasts over your neckline. His initial decorating your chest on a pendant. His fingers pulling at your straps, adjusting your dress.

"You have a reputation; don't taint it." He murmured, then pulling his hand away from your gown. You look up at him with furrowed brows. He bit back any more remarks before dismissing himself. The weight of those words lingered, a stern reminder to uphold the image he deemed crucial in their shared world.

You close the door as he leaves, locking it. You walk back over the the mirror, confused with your emotions. Did he even want you? You looked in the mirror, a large diamond decorating your finger, his necklace hanging from your neck.

You fix up your hair, touch up your makeup and slid on your heels. They certainly gave you a few inches, something Coriolanus secretly enjoyed. He was still taller than you, enough for you to look up at him even in heels.

Your heels clicked against the marble floors as you made your way down the stairs. Coriolanus was making sure everything was properly set up as you'd like. Your hand slid down the railing, careful to keep your balance. You looked into the large opulent room, decorated just like how you had imagined. You felt a cool hand on your waist, spinning to see Coriolanus.

"Coryo," You slightly pull away. You watched as his eyes traveling down your body, admiring you.

"Coriolanus tonight, I don't want any of those silly nicknames in front of my peers." He explains, you nodding along feeling slightly embarrassed. Knowing you were barely an exception to use his nickname.

As the first guests began to arrive, a hum of anticipation filled the air. Coriolanus was at his peak of campaigning for presidency. This was the night to socialize with colleagues, his fellow peers. To win presidency.

Your friends were here, other wives of other politicians. Tigris was invited by you, despite Coriolanus' concerns. Which you never understood and he'd never tell you why.

Coriolanus hadn't paid attention to you since the first guest arrived, chatting with other wealthy men. You sat at a table engaging in mindless banter with the other housewives. You watch Coriolanus from across the room, he smiled and nodded, laughing along with jokes you knew he didn't care for.

This was supposed to be your night, and he was viewing this as a business opportunity?

You stood up from your chair, your heels clicking as you walked across the large room in attempt to find a server with champagne. You felt an hand grasp your shoulder, you turn around expecting the face of your dear fiancé. Instead a man that you knew worked alongside him, fairly handsome but not like Coriolanus.

"Mrs. Snow?" He smiles, greeting you with a hug. You looked behind him, Coriolanus still engaging in business matters. You look back at the man, somewhat eye level.

"Not quite yet," You giggle, showing your engagement ring. You weren't going to be his wife for a few more months at least. Not until he won his votes.

"I see, he better lock you in before another man comes by to steal you. Beautiful woman you are." The man laughs, you fake a smile in return. Muttering a thank you, giggling at the things he said. You acted wine drunk knowing you'd yet to consume any alcohol. "Coriolanus is a lucky man."

"That he is," You nod, fingers rubbing at the initial around your neck. The man softly grabbed your hand, pulling it away to see the necklace that hung over your chest. His eyes slightly skimming your breasts.

"A gift I assume?" He raises a brow, letting go of the necklace. His eyes skimmed your body, eyes that you wish belonged to Coriolanus. Yet, another man was in front of you instead.

"Yes, it is." You tell the man, nodding along to whatever he spewed out of his mouth. You laughed at his jokes knowing they weren't remotely funny. He snuck in comments about your appearance and how Coriolanus isn't deserving of your beauty. You simply laughed or nodded, looking back every now or then to see if Coriolanus had noticed.

You were too busy engaging in borderline inappropriate conversations with a random man too notice the jealous eye of your fiancé. His glare burning into your skin from ten feet away.

Engaged in a brief exchange, the man and you exchanged a playful banter and subtle glances, an unexpected flirtation unfolding amidst the lively atmosphere of the engagement party.

Excusing yourself from the flirtatious encounter, you gracefully departed to fix up your makeup. The brief interlude offered a moment of solitude to gather thoughts and make subtle adjustments. You adjusted the necklace that bore his initial. Fingers traced the letter delicately.

Emerging from the bathroom, Coriolanus swiftly found you in the midst of the lively engagement party. Without a word, he decisively grabbed your wrist, his touch conveying a complex blend of urgency and emotion.

Unable to contain his rising frustration, Coriolanus discreetly pulled you away from the buzzing crowd, finding a quieter corridor outside the opulent ballroom.

"Cory-- Coriolanus, you're hurting me." You tried pulling your arm from his grip, his grip unrelenting. If any thing he grabbed your arm harder. "Please."

The tension was palpable as he confronted you, "What was that back there? Flaunting your charms with my business partners? This is not the image we need."

You met his gaze defiantly, "I was playing the game, Coriolanus. Networking is about connections, you know it as much as I do."

His grip tightened subtly, "There's a line between networking and crossing boundaries. You risk our reputation and my patience with such antics."

Their hushed argument unfolded in the dimly lit corridor, a class of personal wills against a backdrop of Capitol politics.

"Who do you think you are?" He spat, his cold gaze that bore into yours. Yours that pleaded for an ounce of his attention that you silently begged for and craved. His eyes ablaze with frustration and distain.

"What--" The retort caught you off guard, and you stammered.

"Flirting with other men, men I work with at that." His voice got louder, echoing in the halls.

Your response was immediate but defensive. "I didn--"

He cut you off sharply, "Don't talk. I have a reputation to upkeep and you walked around like a dog in heat. Look at you. Your breasts practically spilling right out of that dress, thinking I wouldn't notice? How do you expect me to marry you when all you are is a unworthy slut?"

"How else am I supposed to get your attention?" You demanded, frustration evident in your voice. "You ignore me all the time."

He scoffed, "When do I ignore you?"

"Breakfast, dinner, we sleep in separate beds." You retorted. your words laden a mix of hurt and exasperation.

Coriolanus remained indifferent, "Don't expect me to see you as anything other than a business proposition." The coldness in his tone reflected the harsh reality of being in love with Coriolanus Snow.

You scoffed, a laugh laced in your voice. "Then why are you jealous?"

Coriolanus' demeanor remained composed, but a flicker of irritation cross his face. "Jealous of what? You?"

You gestured towards yourself, the fabric of your gown catching the ambient light. "Look at you."

His response was a calculated blend of dismissal and condescension. "Your lucky I don't teach you your place."

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking up at him. "My place?"

"Under me." His proximity increased, a subtle threat in his hushed tone. A pregnant paused lingered, the air charged with unsaid sentiments, before he sought clarity. You were turning on your heel back to the party. "Where are you going?"

"My party." You said with unwavering authority.

His challenge echoed, "My room, as soon as your party is over. Don't think to defy it." He asserted, the words resonating in the rich tapestry of Capitol politics. "And fix your lipstick." He added, his demand punctuating the intricacies of control and appearance in their tumultuous engagement.

You quickly ran back off into the bathroom. The soft glow of vanity lights highlighted the subtle imperfections on your face. With a deep breath, you delicately traced the edge of your lips with a tissue attempting to salvage the remnants of your carefully applied lipstick. Embarrassed enough that you had just fought with your fiancé with smeared lipstick.

As the night wore on, the opulent party unfolded in a crescendo of laughter, music and discreet conversations within the grandeur dining hall. Time seemed to stretch, each moment etching its own narrative against the backdrop of celebration. You got antsy by the second, assertive glances between you and Coriolanus throughout the rest of the night.

As the night progressed, the energy in the room began to shift. Guests gradually bid their farewells, and the once lively dance floor saw fewer couples swaying to the music. The atmosphere transformed, signaling the inevitable conclusion of the extravagant affair.

After the last guest bid their farewell, the once bustling corridors of the Capitol estate fell into a hushed stillness. In the wake of the elaborate celebration, you moved through the halls with a determined grace, your footsteps echoing in the quiet.

The dimly lit corridor leading to Coriolanus' bedroom felt like a clandestine pathway into a realm of secrecy. The rich tapestries and plush carpets absorbed the sound, adding an air of intimacy to the silence that enveloped the grand estate.

Your heartbeat quickened as you approached the closed door, the polished wood bearing silent witness to the unspoken tensions of the night.

With a hesitant hand, you reached for the doorknob, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of you skin. As the door creaked open, revealing the private sanctum of Coriolanus, the complexities of their relations in the air of the night.

"Coriolanus--" You whispered into the dim room. You listened to the patter of water against a shower floor. Light emitting from the crack from under the polished door to his private bathroom.

You stood there momentarily, a mix of nerves and yet a feel of need. The soft hum of the shower created a subtle backdrop, underscoring the clandestine nature of their relationship. You sat on the edge of his, your heels falling to the ground at the end of the bed.

As Coriolanus stepped out of the shower, the air was heavy with lingering warmth and the faint scent of soap and the cologne that had been trapped in the room just hours prior. Your lips parted as droplets of water glistened on his skin as he emerged. His gaze met yours, a silence settling between them.

Even though Coriolanus had summoned you, his demeanor remained unchanged as he emerged from the bathroom, his gaze piercing through yours. "I asked you here, didn't I?"

"I wanted to apologiz--" You said, the vulnerability in her words hanging in the air. Coriolanus' gaze, still edged with a hint of distain, bore into her.

Coriolanus' lips curled into a sneer as he delivered a cutting blow. "Apologizing won't erase the fact that you behaved like a slut at our engagement party," He spat, the harshness of his words echoing in the ornate bedroom.

"M'not a slut," Your words held a determined edge, refusal to admit the way his words made your thighs clench.

Despite the verbal exchange, a surprising surge of arousal pulsed through you. Your eyes, previously aflame with defiance, now carried a subtle glint of desire.

With a cruel glint in his eyes, Coriolanus seized the opportunity to assert dominance.

"You're nothing more than a pawn in this game, a desperate attempt at securing my status," He sneered, his words dripping with degradation. Your facade of defiance faltered, replaced by a momentary vulnerability. The plush surroundings seemed to close in as he continued, "You thought you could manipulate me with your feeble attempts at seduction? Pathetic."

As Coriolanus closed the distance, his proximity became suffocating, his presence an imposing force. His gaze bore into yours.

The air thickened with tension. In a surprising turn, Coriolanus abruptly seized you by the chin, his actions a mixture of dominance and an unexpected shift in dynamics. His lips crashed onto yours, a forceful kiss that bordered on the line between punishment and desire.

As your lips met, the kiss became a collision of conflicting desires. Coriolanus's grip on your chin tightened, asserting dominance even in this intimate act. His teeth clashing again yours, kissing you with passion and hunger.

The kiss deepened, the hunger for control and passion intertwining in a complex dance. Coriolanus's grip on your chin loosened slightly, his fingers threading into your hair as if staking a claim. His other hand going to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek. The intensity of the kiss became a ravenous exchange, each probing movement a manifestation of unspoken desires.

Breaking the kiss with a gleam in his eyes, Coriolanus's voice resonated a lingering sense of control. "You wanted my attention; you have it,"

His words hung in the air. As he spoke, Coriolanus maintained a calculating gaze, savoring the vulnerability beneath her desire for attention.

Their intimate connection, a collision of hunger and control, lingered in the room, leaving the boundaries between dominance and submission increasingly blurred. The air seemed to crackle with the unspoken, a potent mix of power and desire entwined in the complex web they wove together.

Your defiant gaze met his, and with a surprising admission, he declared, "You think I don't notice you? I'm obsessed with you."

The revelation hung in the air, a subtle shift in the power dynamics of their engagement. The lines between dominance and surrender blurred further.

"You are?" You questioned, a mix of surprise and uncertainty lacing your tone. How could he be obsessed with you? He couldn't even look at you during dinner.

As the revelation settled between them, you took a step back, your gaze wary yet intrigued. In response, Coriolanus, with a predatory confidence, closed the distance by stepping forward, his presence magnetic. "You're the one with my ring, our possession goes both ways, and don't think I don't know that."

You furrowed your brows, looking into his once cold expressionless eyes. Now filled with need and passion. Your lips parted, water droplets decorating his skin.

"What do you mean?" You asked, a mix of curiosity and confusion. Needing answers for this mind trip he was taking you on.

Coriolanus, standing his ground, met her gaze with a cryptic smile. "Our possession of each other isn't one-sided. Your ring on my finger is as much a symbol of my claim as it is yours. Don't underestimate the reciprocity in our entanglement," He explained, his words carrying a blend of assertion and intrigue.

The bedroom, now a silent witness, seemed to echo the breathing between them. A wry smile played on Coriolanus's lips as he acknowledged, "You'd have my head if I so much as looked at another woman."

The acknowledgment hung in the air, a testament to the fragile balance of power and possessiveness in their engagement.

Your response held a mix of conviction and playfulness, "I would."

The air in the room seemed to thicken with the unspoken consequences, a tacit understanding that their engagement carried a weight of possessiveness and potential retribution. Coriolanus, with a hunger fueled by possession and desire, closed the remaining distance. Your lips met in a hungry kiss, a collision of fervor and dominance.

The lines between power, obsession, and desire blurred further. His wet bare skin rubbing into the fabric of your dress. His hand at the back of your head pulling you into the kiss further. His tongue pushing past your lips, dominating the kiss.

"I feel bad," You admitted, pulling away from the kiss.

"Then apologize," Coriolanus responded, his tone demanding. His jaw was clenched, staring back down into your eyes. He tilted your head up to looking down at you, his obsession and possessiveness bleeding from his stare.

His lips parted as you kneeled down in front of him. A pool of arousal coating your panties. Staring back up at him as your delicately pull off the towel around his waist. You awed at the way his hardness slapped against his stomach.

"Go on, apologize." He ordered, voice laced with need. You felt his gaze burning against you as you nodded. You slowly traced his cock with your finger, a breathy moan leaving his soft lips. Wrapping your fingers around his cock, slowly stroking him.

His jealousy and possession relieving his body, you were the one on your knees for him. No other man could take that from him.

He tilted his head back as your hot tongue slid across the tip of his cock. Experimentally licking off the precum before running it under the tip. Your hand still stroking his length, looking up at him for a reaction. The way his lips parted encouraging you to run your tongue along his length, "More."

You took his length into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you took his cock deeper into your mouth. You slid your free hand under your dress, between your legs.

Coriolanus' voice laced with mockery. "Not a slut, huh? Look at your taking my cock in your mouth."

He thrusted his hips, cock bullying the back of your throat. You gagged as he slammed into the back of his throat. Saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth.

"Mouth so full you can't even speak." He mocked, pulling the hair out of your face. A sense of accomplishment bubbling in him as he watched your eyes roll back, bubbles of spit spilling down your chin. "I think I like you better this way."

Your nails scratched at his thighs, taking the cock that he pounded into your throat. Tears staining your cheeks, his thumbing coming to wipe them away. Smearing them down your flushed cheeks.

"Fuck-- That's it." A moan rippling from his throat, echoing into the room. His hand pushed your face flush against his pelvic bone.

The way your hot tongue slid under the protruding vein under his cock making him gasp. His cock slid in and out of your warm mouth with ease, abusing your throat.

He bit back his moans, narrowing his eyes down at your. Your eyes were clenched shut avoiding his gaze. His fingers threaded into your hair, tugging you off his cock.

"Get on the bed." He ordered, an ache in his voice. You gasped for air, voice raspy from the abuse. You nodded, climbing your way onto the bed. His hands pinned you onto the mattress, tugging at the straps of your dress. "Take off this fucking dress."

His demand made your thighs clench, an ache between your legs you needed him to cure. You helped pull down the straps, his large hands tugging the dress off your body. Your breasts spilled from the dress, bouncing as he freed them.

Coriolanus' breath hitches, his eyes glued to the sight of your bare body. His fingers run lightly over your nipples before cupping one in his palm. He leans down to capture your nipple between his teeth. His free slowly sliding you panties down your legs revealing your slick cunt.

"This all for me?" He teases, looking up at you from your breasts. His fingers sliding through your wet folds. You nodded, chest rising and falling in desperation and anticipation.

"Yes-- yes, all yours." You nodded eagerly, silently begging for him to touch you where you needed it. He leaned down, pressing wet kissed into your collarbone, teeth graving the pendent that hung from your neck. His thumb sliding to your clit, gasping slightly at the sensation.

He looked up at you, a teasing glint in his eyes. His thumb rubbing your clit in frustratingly slow circles. "Look at you, wet enough for me to take you now."

"Please--"

He cut you off immediately, "No, I'm taking my time with you."

You gasp as his middle finger slipped in. A soft moan leaving your lips as he slowly slid his finger out and back in. You rolled your hips, begging for more. His fingers curling to brush your g-spot.

"Oh god--" Coriolanus cuts you off with a searing kiss, hungry and passionate. Kissing you with his whole body, tongue sliding against yours.

He slipped another finger inside your drooling entrance, his palm rubbing against his clit. The sound of your lips colliding and fingers invading your slick filling the room. He kissed along your jaw, down your neck. His lips dragging down your body, slowly dragging closer to where you needed him most.

Your eyes widen, watching him crawl between yours legs. His tongue replacing his fingers. "Coriolanus--"

He moaned into your gushing cunt, sliding his cunt along your drooling entrance. His lips wrapped around your clit, teeth crazing it. He pulled your thighs apart were his strong arms as you writhed under his body.

"Ohh-- Coryo." His mouth sucking and exploring your slick folds as you whined out for him. Your body writhing under his firm grip. Tongue exploring your wet cunt. "I'm gonna cum-- please."

He pulled from in between your thighs, his fingers pushing back inside you again. Your slick covered his mouth, reflecting in the light. "Cum for me."

His fingers curl inside you, thrusting back inside you with force. Your voice cracks as you moan his name, hips struggling against his grip as you reach your peak. Your cum coating his long thick fingers. His fingers pull you through your orgasm, your voice begging him to wait.

Coriolanus' mouth is relentless, his tongue flicking and lapping at your clit as his fingers continue to thrust in and out of you. You gasp, your body trembling with the force of the pleasure building within you again.

Your fingers thread in his hair, attempting to pull him off of your aching cunt. His mouth closes over your sensitive nub once more as his fingers begin to move faster inside of you. His hand gripping your thigh as he takes what he wants.

His fingers curl into a 'C' shape, begging you to cum around them just once more time. You writhe under him in overstimulation, hips trying to drag themselves away from him.

You cry out as your juices coat his fingers once again, tears streaming down your cheeks in overstimulation but Coriolanus didn't care.

"N-need your cock..." You breathe out as he pulls himself from between your thighs. You push his hair out of his face, your slick coating the bottom half of his face. His lips were swollen and wet, breathing heavy as he crawled back up your body.

His cock presses against your entrance as Coriolanus leans back down to brush his lips against yours. His lips interlocking with yours, juices smearing against your lips. His tongue intrudes your mouth, your taste invading your mouth. You moan into the kiss, nails digging into his shoulders.

“I want you.”

“You have me.” Coriolanus mumbled against your lips, teeth grazing your jaw line. He pulled your thighs around his waist, cock pressing against your entrance. “You gonna take me?”

You nodded, eagerly.

He pressed his lips against yours to swallow any of your moans as his tip stretched past your entrance. Your nails clawing at his skin, trying your hardest to adjust to the stretch.

Inch by inch, his power took over you. He possessed your body and soul. His cock breached the sacred part of you that only he had access to.

Your nails left crescent shaped indents into his soft pale skin, earning a groan from in return. The stretch burned, no matter how aggressively he had taken you before, the stretch was always there.

“Coriolanus—“ You gasp as he bottoms out, trying to move your hips for friction.

“You can say it, it’s just us.” He mumbles into your flushed skin, his hands digging into your hips. His breathing was heavy and sharp, begging for you to ask him to move.

You were quick to correct yourself, “Coryo.”

You felt a weird sense of care, him nuzzling into your neck, patiently waiting. Coriolanus was an aggressive, impatient, frustrated man. He pulled away from your neck, he pinned you with his gaze. Looking down at you with vulnerability and need.

You whisper, barely loud enough. “Coryo, move please.”

You felt him pull out slightly, pushing back in, a moan escaping your lips. He felt himself falter, a gentleness slipping through. In response he thrusted back in harder, punishing.

His hands pushing your knees to your chest, bending you in half. Your eyes rolled back at the new position, his cock reaching deeper inside of you. You looked down to watch as his cock slid in and out of you, slamming back in with force.

“Too—“ You moan, unable to get your words out. You close your eyes, hearing a laugh above you.

“Too much?” He questioned, you nod in response. In return he speeds up his thrusts, bullying your insides. “Better?”

You gasp, moaning out incoherent sentences. Your nails scratch deep red marks into his snow white skin. Decorating his usual pure appearance.

His voice demanding as he seizes your chin, tilting you to look into his eyes. “Look at me.”

Your jaw falls open, silent moans all that comes out. The loud slapping of skin filling the opulent room. Your body engulfed in his plush bedding.

“Look away and I stop.”

Your eyes widen, wrapping your legs around his torso. Pleas leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

“D-don’t— Coryo, don’t stop.” You beg, your cunt practically sucking him back in. You scratch at his skin, pulling him closer to you. The wire inside you slowly pulling tighter.

“Then look me in the eyes while I fuck you.” He orders, his cock bullying your inside. You nod, mouth open to let out your needy moans.

His hand wrapped around throat, slightly adding enough pressure to make your cunt squeeze around him. A groan leaving his lips as you arch your back, cunt squeezing him tight.

“You like that?” He whispers, pressing harder against your throat. The way his long fingers squeezed around your neck, your mouth opening to let out a sultry moan. “Such a slut you’d let me choke you.”

”For you,” You squeaked out, a moan following just after. He panted, holding back his own moans not willing to submit. His hand slowly releasing you, in return you gasp for air. He pushes your legs further into your chest, finger tips bruising your skin.

He disobeyed his own demand, closing his eyes breaking your eye contact. His thrusts were unfaltering, balls slapping against your ass.

A low moan escaping his parted lips, squeezing your legs trying to hold back his own pleasure. He lets go, hand travelling down to your clit. His thumb rubbed your sensitive nub causing you to cry out his name.

His other hand pushed down on the bulge that protruded from your stomach. You gasp in return, a throaty moan following just after it. You cry out as you cum around his relentless cock unannounced, something you were sure he’d punish you for later.

He squinted, stilling rubbing your clit as he continuously fucked you through your orgasm. Your body writhed under his as your sensitivity increased.

“You want my cum?” He asked, fucking into you deeper than before. You opened your mouth but no words came out, only your moans. “What? Have I fucked you silent?”

You nodded, taking his cock further. Your back arched off the bed, sweaty chest pressing into his. His hands travelled up to your nipples, pinching them in between his fingers.

“Look at you, all cock drunk practically begging for more.” He taunts, ignoring his own impending orgasm. He wanted you claimed, full of his seed.

Your cunt clenched around him, relishing in the deep moan he let out in response. An unexpected whimper following at he tried to hide with a groan.

His hot breath fanned against your neck, hiding his face as the wire inside of him snapped. His seed filling your needy cunt. He panted into your neck, still grinding his cock against you.

“Coryo—“ Your voice was raspy, he hummed against your skin. His hands rubbed your sweat coated skin, soothing you from your overwhelming sensitivity.

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?”

"Why do you think I stay away from you, ignore you?" Coriolanus questioned, his words carrying a weight of contemplation.

Your response carried a mixture of frustration and vulnerability, "I don't know, Coriolanus. You keep me at arm's length, and I can't decipher whether it's indifference, strategy, or something else entirely."

You were still short of breath, legs wrapped around his torso keeping him skin to skin with yours.

Coriolanus, breaking the tense silence, confessed, "I'm obsessed with you."

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: covert hypno, misogyny, step-sibling stuff.

I

Claire was in a foul mood, stomping like a toddler through the hallway of her childhood home. Ah yes, coming back home from College was always a mixed bag. On the one hand, she loved spending time with (and being pampered by) her mom and Rick, her step-dad. But on the other hand, it meant dealing with The Asshole.

He hadn’t always been The Asshole, and that just hurt even more. Somewhere beneath his alpha male bullshit were the remains of her step-brother John. Surely that sweet, shy boy had to be inside this new, incredibly annoying person… but no matter how hard she tried, Claire couldn’t make the person she had loved as a brother emerge from the armor of pick-up artistry and right-wing bastardry John had built around himself. 

It had started during his senior year of high-school, her first one away in college. Maybe he got bullied too much, maybe he listened to too many podcasts and influencers… who knew? The point was that John started hitting the gym, spouting sexist bullshit, bragging about his sexual conquests. And little by little, in her mind, John started to disappear. Now, three years later, she could only think of him as The Asshole. And so, she tried to avoid him as much as humanly possible when she was back home.

It soured the experience for her. It seemed impossible that The Asshole was Rick’s son- after all, Rick was a good man. He had treated Claire like a daughter, with a respect and kindness her biological father had never shown; that was, when that deadbeat had even been around. Claire never called Rick “dad”, but she did feel him as a dad in her heart, and the memories of her “real” father were hazy and growing more and more faint with the years. With horror she realized her memories of John were fading as well, devoured by The Asshole. She fought to remember that The Asshole had once been a decent kid.

The Asshole, for his part, made that task incredibly hard. His off-hand comment that she’d be happier dropping out of college and being a “proper wife” had made her storm off the dinner table. Hence her stomping in that hallway, going to her room. She slammed the door. It would be a long summer. 

II

Pathetic. She couldn’t think of a better word for it. She should feel violated, perhaps- after all, she had caught The Asshole using her laptop- but she found it hard to even muster up anger. She felt disgusted, and also a bit sorry for him. His explanation was as ridiculous as she could have expected from him.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being a low value whore, chatting with a bunch of dudes.”

Sure, Asshole. That’s what I need: you as the guardian of my virtue, she thought. Still, it was an excuse, and she would hold on to it. The alternative explanation was worse and even contemplating it felt abominable. And yet a little part of her, a voice deep inside her head couldn’t help but feel relief.

I’m glad my nudes are on my phone.

No. Better to not go there. John was her step-brother. Even after becoming the prick he had turned into, he wouldn’t see her… like that.

Would he?

She knew he saw her friends like sex toys, given that two of them had confessed to being somehow persuaded by his alleged charms. Needless to say, those girls were now former friends- not so much because they slept with The Asshole and more because they had given him ammo: it made it harder to argue that his toxic manosphere crap was repulsive when he could throw such conquests in Claire’s face. But not even the world’s biggest douchebag would cross the line that separated family and attraction. And they had been family, once. God, it hurt to remember.

She had screamed at him like a fucking teenager, but what was she expected to do? And he had walked away like nothing had happened, like she didn’t catch him red handed. Claire took a deep breath. Fuck it. Let it go. Don’t let him ruin your break. She sat down for an evening of happy, mindless Youtube binging.

Huh. Was the screen acting up? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but every now and then something felt… off. Well, it was no big deal; certainly not annoying enough to warrant an expensive trip to get the laptop checked out.

Shit. She figured the fight had left her more upset than she had thought: she had watched a two hour video essay on feminism and media representation and she couldn’t remember a second of it. A wave of fear came over her. Spacing out for two hours wasn’t normal. Maybe she was just tired. Yeah, that seemed right. Dealing with The Asshole was exhausting. She needed to sleep.

III

Relaxing ended up being easier than she had expected. She spent long hours in front of her laptop, whiling the time away, floating in a blissful state of pure peace. So what if she couldn’t always remember what she had watched? The effect was soothing, like soaking her brain in a nice hot tub. And she had at long last found a way to deal with The Asshole.

The key was so simple she felt dumb as a rock for not figuring out sooner. The way to avoid a fight was, simply, to avoid the fight. Why spend precious energy fighting a man who was incapable of changing his mind? So she didn’t. Whatever inane bullshit came out of his mouth, she let slide. Maybe give him a polite smile and nod so he would think she was actually paying attention, and daydream about her next laptop session. This was exactly what she needed: a full vacation for her overworked brain.

Around the end of the first week the benefits of Claire’s new regiment became evident. She felt less irritable, giddier, somehow… lighter. And even her libido, long buried under a pile of stress was coming back with a vengeance. Why else would she emerge from her laptop dives soaking wet, needing to pleasure herself as intensely as she needed to breathe? And the way her body felt! Before, her… playing was quick, almost as if doing maintenance on some needed but almost forgotten piece of machinery. Now every time she played with herself was a celebration. She caressed her breasts, took her time, toyed with herself… it was no longer a race to orgasm. Her own body was the greatest show on Earth.

The effects of regular self-pleasuring, long documented in scientific literature, hit her like a train. She was relaxed, energetic- and hell, even The Asshole didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Just smile and nod at him and ignore his misogynistic ramblings. And, if she was being honest, even The Asshole was right, every now and then. Broken clocks and all that. 

You really should show off your legs more. Advertise your sexual value to high-status males.

Okay, so half of that was idiotic. But the legs thing? Right on the money. Claire twirled, letting her new, short sundress flutter and fly, and giggled. It felt light. She felt light. Radiant.

Every now and then her mind went back to the laptop. The screen was acting funny. Maybe she should do something about it, but it seemed like work, and she was home to relax. The laptop thing could wait.

Do you think men would be so nice to you if you didn’t have great tits?

Those words struck a chord inside her. She pondered them after a few hours of mindless laptop time. Sure, she knew she had large-ish breasts, and she wasn’t a complete idiot: men had been extremely fucking obvious about them since she had been a teen. But were tits -breasts- that important? Surely not. Her professors valued her for her intellect.

Didn’t they?

Then why had every professor that had mentored her and helped her out been a man? 

My big tits.

No, that was ridiculous. Silly. And yet, she barely noticed her hand sliding between her legs as she thought about it. My tits matter. My tits are what’s important.

She came almost instantly, and a wave of shame washed over her. She needed to escape it. Dodge it somehow. Laptop. Watch something on the laptop. Let it relax her.

Claire’s low-cut top didn’t go unnoticed at dinner. She wasn’t really sure why she had put it on. It just felt right. Rick obviously kept quiet, but The Asshole made no effort to hide his glances and his smug smile. She should be angry, something inside her told her; but it was a distant voice, faint and growing smaller. If anything she felt… valued. Desired. Worthy. Fuck it, even if it was The Asshole, she had to admit a bit of male attention now and then wasn’t so bad. She found herself blushing at first. Eventually, it was all too much. Claire excused herself and dashed to the bathroom. She fell on her knees, rubbing her pussy -vagina- with a desperation she had never felt before. She needed to cum. The Asshole’s eyes, and his sneer of superiority, and his hateful words… she had to bite her hand to stop herself from screaming.

Claire came back to the table, flustered but okay. Or so she thought.

“Pour me a Coke”, The Asshole said. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t a request. He had just treated her like a fucking servant.

And yet, she walked to the kitchen and made sure she poured the most perfect glass of Coke possible. She leaned in a bit while she placed it by his plate, giving him a beautiful view of her big, dumb tits. Breasts! Her breasts! What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Thank you, cunt”, The Asshole whispered.

Claire froze. She should… what? Slap him? Scream at him? Lecture him? What would be the point? No, it was better to let it slide. Smile and nod.

Smile? Smile after that? What the fuck was she thinking? Claire was mortified. Turning in bed, she wished she could take that stupid smile back and… fucking punch The Asshole for calling her a…

Why? Why, why, why? Why was she so fucking wet? It was disgusting! He was disgusting! 

…She was disgusting, getting soaked at being called a…

It was too strong. She tried to fight it, she truly did, but her pussy, her traitorous fucking pussy refused to give up, driving her insane. A cunt. He had called her a cunt. Her fingers went into her body. She wasn’t gentle with herself. No, she fucked herself without mercy, like she imagined he would use her if he had a chance. Her mind was a vortex, a mess of words and images and shame and pleasure.

Cunt. Cunt. Big-titty cunt. I’m just a stupid cunt. My tits are all that matters. I’m just a cunt. I’m just holes and tits. I don’t need to make choices. I need to do as men tell me. Men know best. Men are superior. I’m just holes…

She woke up covered in sweat. Fuck. Had she passed out? What… what was wrong with her? She was an excellent college student…

She wanted to throw up. College. All that work. Thinking. And then what? A job? Stress? She couldn’t do it. No way. She was…

I’m too stupid and weak.

It felt so fucking good to think it. It was liberating. Relaxing. It felt like the universe was simple, and she was simple, and now her place in the world was simple. It was light and fresh and it made her want to burst out in giggles. 

A shower of images and words flooded her mind. Women on their knees. Women cooking in traditional aprons while wearing chokers. Women kissing, putting on shows for men. She had no idea when she had seen all that, and suddenly she couldn’t even care enough to fight the feeling. It all just felt… right. Sexy. Natural. It was her place. It was her purpose as a woman. As a cunt. As an inferior fleshlight. She moaned at the idea of sharing this new wonderful bliss with her stuck-up college friends, and making them see the light…

She didn’t even get mad when The Asshole got into her room without knocking. She didn’t even consider covering up. In fact, she felt happy when his eyes focused on her body.

I’m useful. My body makes me useful.

“What are you doing?”, He asked. Suddenly He wasn’t The Asshole anymore. He was a He, and He was always right, and she was meant to do as He said. Simple. Sexy. Fun.

“I just rubbed my dumb pussy until I passed out”, she blurted out before exploding in a symphony of delighted giggling. 

“You know, I know how you call me. Your cunt friends told me. So I’m The Asshole, huh?”

Claire looked at him with fuzzy, unfocused eyes. She’d never think that of a Man!

“What are you?” He asked.

“Holes!”, she replied excitedly. “And tits! And porn!”

“And what do you serve?”

She blanked for a moment. Serve? She did what Men told her, but that wasn’t serving, that was just… being herself. Being a good little cunt. It was natural. Then, as if to help her out, he let his trousers fall.

“Cock!” she yelped. “I serve cock!”

“Then serve”

Duh. Of course she served cock. How could she have forgotten? As she licked and wonderful, conquering cock in front of her, she realized how silly she had been. That was why Men did the thinking. She took in its smell, its smooth texture on her tongue, the way He looked down at her and she looked up at Him. It was just natural.

She was happy, she thought as she relaxed her throat and let that cock slide deeper and deeper inside her.

In the end, she never found out what, exactly, had happened with her laptop. 

Did you enjoy the story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

[ventique18]

Even back when Sebek and Silver were kids, their teacher Lilia was not merciful. At all. On their first week of joint training, they were told to do a hundred crunches and not a number less.

🦇: "I'll be fishing for dinner, alright? You boys do a hundred and report back to me."

It was Sebek who went in first with Silver holding his legs and counting. He tried his best; he really did, but the world seemed to go so slowly and his body started to give up on him on the twentieth crunch.

⚔️: "Twenty-one, twenty-nine, thirty-eight..."

🐊: "WHAT SORT OF! SLOPPY COUNTING!! IS THAT?!!"

⚔️: "Forty-seven, sixty-five..."

🐊: "WE ARE IN GRADE FIVE! WE'RE STARTING ALGEBRA SOON!!"

⚔️: "Eighty-eight... Ninety-six... One hundred. You're done Sebek, good work."

Sebek was going to argue, but as soon as he heard one hundred, he slumped back to the ground as he felt every tendril of muscle in his body sigh in relief.

Silver was either so stupid, or he was a liar. How abominable either way! A knight must be intelligent and honest, or they do not deserve to stand behind the future king of kings Malleus Draconia! He swore he was not going to be like Silver. He was going to be the strongest, most reliable knight. He was--

... Though when Silver started gritting his teeth and shaking as he went for thirty four, Sebek closed his eyes and

🐊: "Thirty-five... Sixty-seven!! EIGHTY-FIVE!! NINETY-FOUR! ONE HUNDRED!!! GOOD WORK SILVER!!!"

It was a secret they were going to keep to their graves.

When they reported back to Lilia, he saw their shifting feet and darting eyes and almost laughed. Not for their bad attempt at hiding lies, no, but from how much these two kids resembled himself and his good friend from centuries ago, when they themselves were covering for each other during each of the late princess' tyrannical, impossible demands.

They may obviously not have fulfilled the task assigned to them, but the spirit of brotherhood and trust was alive and well. And for that, they got full marks.

🦇: "Good job, my fledgling knights! Now just sit back while I prepare this beautiful tuna I caught--"

🐊⚔️: "No need, sir! We'll do it ourselves!"

🦇: "Are you sure? You just did a hundred crunches. Your bodies must be aching."

🐊⚔️: "We're sure! This is nothing for a knight, sir!"

Goodness, what sweet boys he was raising.

[sant-riley]

[Task force 141 + others with Gen z!reader] [pt3]

A/N: Some of these you /may/ have seen on tiktok, that is me who posted them on tiktok. I am green haired bitch so no I didn't steal anything LMAO. I hope these live up to yalls expectations.

The last two of these my lovely friend gave me inspiration for <3 @frogchiro

Warnings: She/her pronouns swearing, age gaps, tiktok memes (like always lmk if I miss something!)

~

You steal Prices hat on numerous occasions bc its a fashion abomination and you refuse to let this man wear it around you. You hide around base as frequently as you can.

Jokes on you though bc he will literally wait til it's your birthday and buy you a matching one and will laugh at your scream of disgust.

Gaz one ups him by gifting you a matching hat as well, putting it on your head as he flicks the brim.

"Thanks Gaz! I love it!

"And not mine?"

"You're on thin ice, old man."

Price gets gifted a set from manscaped by the guys as a gag gift. He uses it for his beard bc he never bothered to look into why everyone was laughing around him.

Price takes your phone when you try and show him memes, squinting hard as fuck like a dad 💀

Soap, if yall have the time off takes you to scottish football games and it's a whole thing. You sitting there while he gets drunk out of his fucking mind, hollering and whooping and you're there trying to sink into your seat.

Chances are someone's gonna shove you and you're gonna trip and fall bc everyone's so amped up and Soap threatens to beat the shit out of them. It's a miracle y'all don't get kicked out 💀

If you have tattoos, Soap is the first one to take a marker set and color them in and adding his own additions. If you were ever to get them actually tattooed, he would tear up and pretend he isn't emotional about it.

"You like me that much Bonnie?"

He would get something of you too, so it evens out. This also makes Ghost in turn get a tattoo for you bc he refuses to be out done and he's just as attached

Neither of them get your call sign or your name, but they get something personal to what each of them associate you with.

The first time you meet Alex, you're across the room doing something that has your focus and didn't realize this is actually your first time meeting him. You ask him for a hand only to look up and see him extend his prosthetic at you with a smile and you scream.

"You asked for a hand but best I can do is a Leg." Price comes running and he sees the scene and rolls his eyes.

Everyone single one of them are the definition of "my girl can wear whatever she wants bc I'll break your jaw." meme btw. You can take care of yourself but you never need to bc they will beat a bitch up.

Laswell invites you constantly to come over and meet with her wife, esp if you don't have a mother figure. She always always tries to come on base to see you and always has a birthday and Christmas present on it's way to you wherever you may be. Her wife loves you to death and they've pretty much adopted you and you cannot escape it, oh well.

Gaz buys you whatever your little heart desires, especially if he's deployed away in a country where they sell exclusives of whatever you enjoy. It's a pain in the fucking ass to try and ship a anime figure to your place from Japan but he's gonna try his best.

Ghost doesn't share his food, or at least it was before you came along. He groans and grumbles about having to feed you but he wouldn't do it if he truly didn't want to. Soap asks and Ghost tells him to fuck off.

If you watch anime, please imagine trying to get everyone in the room and trying to explain who Dabi is. They're all so fucking old they keep thinking you're referring to the elf from Harry Potter and it infuriates you to no end.

Soap and Gaz know better but it's funnier to see you mad.

Being the youngest, they absolutely force you to do the jobs they don't want to. Whether it be cleaning the barracks, to cooking dinner when able, it doesn't matter bc they'll all pull rank on you.

"You're the new kid, get to it then."

"Ghosttttt-"

"Don't Ghost me."

Soap is the kind of motherfucker to play the fifa games and doesn't understand that he's stupid for buying it every single year bc there are no changes oncesoever. He will not listen to you about it and you've given up.

Ghost will see you talk about your etsy list and will ask for your phone, you trust him so of course you hand it over. He hands it back to you and it's just, all purchased. He says nothing while he sips on his tea while you scream at him asking why he did it. He won't tell you but it's because he knows it makes you happy and it'll keep your mood up, giving you a reason to be motivated to get through missions. It's also because he knows that retail therapy is a thing for your generation.

Soap, if you do any, is actually really good at doing your makeup! He knows how to do everything and he refuses to elaborate. (As a kid he'd do his mom's makeup when she went out for dates) he's the one who helps you doll up if you're going undercover.

Ghost, Gaz and Price find you unfunny whenever you make a "wow I wish British people were real." You say it so often and it gets annoying but they also just accept it's a part of life.

Soap personally enjoys the "SCOTLAND FOREVERRRRRRR" meme and will scream it with you. Ghost threatens to cut yalls tongue out.

Other parts can be found under #Kayla writes <3

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom

If you'd like to be tagged, go to my pinned post and comment there :)

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 8 Part ½

masterpost

Black Bat got back to Gotham well before flying time. She took a shower to get the stinkyman stink out of her hair and apologetically took the green jacket to the wash. Cigarettes. Yuck! 

She joined the family for dinner. Damibat was there, face like thunder and clearly Not Talking to Alfred or Brucedad. Cass slid into her place and gave him a nod. He returned it. Very civil. We are professionals, Cain, you and I and no one else in this dump.

Cass hid a faint smile.

No Timibird. No Jaybird. Those were rarer birds to fly out to Wayne Manor, so she wasn’t too surprised. Just…

Cass readjusted her body language to be fine and normal. She didn’t need her flock family close for comfort. She was fine and normal! Yes, Stinkyman had said that she’d died. Yes. He said that.

(That fits with the pain of the electrical shock and the voltage necessary to short out bat computer, Cass’s Black Bat brain said sensibly.)

Cass hid a shudder.

But he’d also said that there may be no repercussions! As long as she left it alone and did not think about it. She had permission to pretend it didn’t happen. That was the best thing to try. She would eat her dinner and take her nap and then go flying.

Alfie served dinner. Cass caught herself playing with her fork, winding noodles into a secret pattern that might somehow make her feel better. 

“Is there something wrong with your pasta, Miss Cassandra?”

She looked up at him guiltily through her eyelashes and stopped playing with her food. Big sigh. 

“Will Master Timothy be returning to the manor tonight?” Alfie asked Brucedad.

Brucedad cleared his throat and put his spoon down for a moment. “I expect that he might spend the night with his friends in San Francisco,” he said.

Cass read the words beneath the words. Timbird was with the Young Justice friends. New plan. Not discussed. He’d been sent to Amity Park to investigate the laboratory where Cass had

(died. Where Cass had died.)

Been with Captain Marvel. And if he was out all day, it meant he’d found something.

Her heart jumped in her chest. She wanted to ask questions. She wanted to make sure that no one knew. 

Suspicious, Cass told herself sternly. Suspicious behavior. So she drizzled hot sauce on her pasta and ate a big mouthful.

Damibat copied her after a moment. 

Brucedad and Alfie did not wince, but they made their ‘white man thinks spice is scary’ faces. 

Cass quirked a smile. She put a lot more hot sauce. It was too much sauce. It turned the pasta red.

Brucedad made an unhappy sound and deliberately looked away from her plate. Haha. He was thinking: my stomach hurts just looking at that. Oh god, I'm old. Acid reflux. Heartburn. Acid reflux heartburn heartburn-

Bullying her batdad made her feel a little better. How could she be an undead abomination if she was, in fact, a naughty girl? Check and mate, existential horror. Cass finished her dinner and danced to her room on her toes, feeling the music from the last time she had performed on stage. She did a leap for the sheer joy of movement.

Everything still seemed better when she got up from her nap. Cass stretched on the floor beside her bed, and then flopped into a side saddle stretch to happily drink a bottle of green tea. She took it to the kitchen and into the machine for a wash and stole a peek into the fridge to see the after-flight snack. Protein balls! Chocolate and nuts? Cass stole one and fled to the batcave before anyone could see the crime.

Timbird was waiting in the cave on the big screen. He looked very tense. He and Batdad both looked at her when she came down the stairs.

Oh. There was a rock in her stomach. 

Cass beamed at them and flipped off the stairs to land in a gymnast stance behind Brucedad’s chair. “Hi, Timbird,” she said, acting normally. 

“Hi, Cass,” he said, sparing her a tired smile. “I was just telling Bruce how my trip out to Amity went.” She nodded, waiting for elaboration. Tense. “There were fresh tank tracks.” 

Oh. What. “What?” Cass repeated, because it was worth repeating. “Tanks?” She mimed her mind being blown.

“Yes, I figure that you would have noticed if they’d been there before.” Tim somehow seemed even unhappier. “The running theory is that someone was keeping an eye on the place and something about your trip out there alerted them.”

‘Machine. Electricity.’

“Extremely suspicious,” Cass said on rote. 

“Yes,” Batdad agreed gruffly. “There’s no legal justification for that kind of force being deployed in the continental United States and no record that we’ve found for it.”

“Definitely criminal.” Cass hovered for a moment. “Should I help?”

Timbird and Batdad exchanged glances. “I think that I would be best used in the cave tonight on research,” Batdad decided. “I’ll run comms while I’m here. Cass, can you and Robin handle things? There’s nothing in particular going on, aside from the weapons case. Robin has the information on that. We think that we’ve tracked the gang’s mechanic down.”

Cass gave a double thumbs up, more than a little relieved that she didn’t have to do anything related to Amity Park today. “Okay, I find mechanic and beat peace into them,” she said cheerfully. 

“You investigate and observe them,” Batdad repeated, faux-stern. Hint of smile. Naughty kid, tugging at my cape.

Cass nodded just as seriously. “Robin and I investigate, observe, beat until peaceful.” She smacked a fist into her palm.

Timbird snorted. “It sounds like a plan. I’m with YJ tonight, so I’ll log off.”

“Byebye birdie.” Cass waved on her way to the equipment lockers.