#what if they made it to nationals and still nothing changed

[walltalks]

I want to put this into a larger fic that’s a bit more meta and Everything Everywhere All At Once -esc, but I really like this simplified writing of events a lot. So here is the saddest shit my brain has thrown at me.

They didn’t win nationals. They didn’t even make it past the first round, which was incredibly demoralizing. Jackie tried her hardest but there was no cheering them up. Sure, they had made it that far, but that didn’t mean they didn’t suck.

—

Things only got worse when they got back home. Shauna found it hard not be angry at Jackie’s earnesty. Everything the girl did seemed to tick her off. It was like Jackie was able to push at a very specific pressure point in Shauna.

The closer to graduation the more Jackie got under Shauna’s skin, and she snapped. She yelled at Jackie about Brown, and about how she felt suffocated. She spit and she snarled, and she tore at Jackie until there was copper in her mouth.

Jackie took it with big sad eyes and genuine hurt, and Shauna felt like she was going to be sick.

It was almost crueler that the argument had nothing to do with Jeff.

—

It happened at a party, which Shauna would never get over the irony of. The last big party of the year before graduation—before they all headed their separate ways.

Shauna spotted Jackie talking to some people she normally saw Natalie hanging around. She thought it was a bit strange, but didn’t question it further. She should have.

Shauna didn’t know who found her body, but she did know they found it in the upstairs bathroom. The coroner ruled it as an overdose. Shauna sobbed until she made herself puke, when she found out.

At the funeral she cried into Jeff’s shoulder.

—

Shauna didn’t go to Brown.

The baby wasn’t born alive.

[therese-lokidottir]

Having all that time is important to let the characters be to show their development and really showing the audience who these characters are.

Avatar the Last Airbender has the time to let the characters sit back and relax, and with that, the plots have the time to take deeper looks into their characters. Something that is so important to ATLA is that the main characters are children. They may have had the weight of the world placed on their shoulders and been forced to act grown-up, but they are still children, and they have the emotional responses that someone that age is going to have. Having the time to show the characters learn and grow, and seeing them being able to step up to the role rather than the plot just forcing them to do the thing the plot needs them to do.

There is time given to not just the worldbuilding but to humanizing the nations. It shows just regular people living their lives and how the war has affected them. It's just revealed that some parts of the earth kingdom living peacefully, and some are under threat or occupation. Because it gives likable characters the audiences can sympathize with the audiences can gather why war is bad. Even shows how the Fire Nation is not made up of purely bad people, they are just people who have been propagandized and like the other two nations there are good and bad people.

The Beach is such an impotent episode for showing the fire nation's kids emotional stats and developing what will lead to Zuko's eventual turn. But the only reason an episode like that can happen is because there is time for it to happen. There is enough room for there to be an episode where the characters go to the beach, can't have in the netflix show.

While it's divisive whether the netflix Atla is good or bad, basically all the criticisms derive from the story needing to be compressed. Removing or changing aspects from characters, dropping characters entirely and constant exposition in every episode. It does sound like for a lot of people it was enjoyable, but it always sounds like the changes that upset people are always because they needed to make the plot go quicker.

Instead of designated filler episodes we now have kind a filler ... everything Everything is full od padding that somehow manages to do nothing to help us get to know the characters

Now that everything has to be exposition and priority of the characters have to be pushing the plot forward it now feels like a waste of time when there are moments where characters are just talking, because nothing feels like it's being accomplished.

Now with these writers and how proud they are of themselves and don't expect anything truly good from them even if they were given more, but there is a thing in the first season I feel like it need time to actually work.

Mobius calling Loki a "crappy friend" and acting betrayed comes off as jarring if you watch the show as a whole. Because at what point was a friendship supposed to happen? Loki showed no enthusiasm being in the TVA and voiced open skepticism with their legitimacy, and in-turn Loki is given no respect and is treated as thoroughly untrustworthy. Was Pompeii it, was that supposed to be the friendship moment? Loki was trying to prove his theory and had no plans to hurt Mobius, they are best friends now.

Again, with these writers who think they're genuinely writing Mobius as nice, even though everything he says is incredible backhanded, I don't think more time would have improved things. But it does feel like something that needed more time. As I mentioned in the tags Grant Ward from AoS, he spends so much time protecting them, talking and snarking, training Sky and not knowing how the hologram display works with Coulson you don't expect he's going to be evil,

Back when more shows were longer and there were episodes that were about spending time with the characters and not some over arching plot. Just having some fun

I miss filler episodes, filler is important even when it doesn't service "The Plot" because it helps the audience become attached to the characters and settings. Like, it establishes a vibe and when you have that is actually makes the twists and turns feel impactful.

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[wormsdyke]

Damn u rlly got detention for not wanting ur school to get shot up

we really did it was bonkers. the protest was planned in advance and the school knew about it so teachers would gently remind us we would get in trouble if we walked out but very few actually discouraged it because, you know, they also didn’t like the idea of getting shot up. the whole thing went pretty well, the local news came to cover it, several students gave speeches, the names of some students and teachers who had recently died in school shootings were read off before a moment of silence, plans were made for further protests and walk outs on a larger scale that went successfully over the next few months. eventually our school principal came out and announced his support and also assured that no students would face disciplinary action for protesting. and then a bunch of us received disciplinary action for protesting. importantly though, not all of us did, seemingly an indiscriminately chosen group of attendees were apathetically punished and no further action, positive or negative, was ever taken. despite being a relatively small scale movement it was probably the biggest movement against gun violence (or for that matter anything remotely leftist) the whole region had seen, being in the red south. which isn’t directly related but does make it sting a little more that the only response was a few lunch detentions that didn’t stick on my permanent record.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ You're Doing Amazing Sweetie | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: George finds out and the only thing Y/n can do is hide and pray that George doesn't take out Max on track.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

Y/n paces anxiously near the monitors while Charles and Lando loiter as if they had all the time in the world. Charles had his arms crossed, his race suit tied around his waist, and Lando was demolishing a plate of snacks meant for the Ferrari engineers. Y/n had been hiding out in the Ferrari garage since the paddock opened to avoid crossing paths with George.

“Okay, tell me the truth—how screwed am I?” Y/n asks, whipping around to face them.

“Oh, monumentally,” Lando replies through a mouthful of cookie. “Like Titanic levels. Possibly Pompeii.”

Charles nods along solemnly. “Also George is definitely plotting something. He walked by earlier muttering to himself like a Bond villain.”

“Fuck” Y/n groans pacing faster.

“You do realize hiding here makes you look guiltier, right?” Lando says, biting into another cookie

Y/n glares at him. “What do you want me to do? Parade around the paddock with a sign that says ‘Yes George, I am the mother of Max Verstappen’s future spawn’?!”

Charles snorts so hard that his espresso nearly spills. “Please don’t. George would spontaneously combust.”

“Plus technically speaking this is your fault,” Lando says, jabbing a finger at her.

She raises an eyebrow. “My fault? I’m not the one who told the entire world, ‘If it weren’t for the baby.’”

“That part was clearly Max’s fault,” Lando interjects, not looking up from his plate. “But this whole ‘let’s date secretly’ thing? Yeah, I’m blaming you for that one.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n shoots back.

“Don’t get defensive,” Charles says, holding his hands up. “But we told you this would end in disaster. And now? Look at you. Hiding in my garage like some kind of fugitive because George looks like he’s ready to blow up Redbull’s hospitality. You should have told George the second you two realized your relationship was serious.”

Y/n groans, tugging at her hair. “What’s done is done and I can’t change that now can I? And I’m here because I obviously can’t stay at the Mercedes garage if I want to avoid my brother and staying at Redbull is a deathwish. Imagine what’ll happen if he catches us both in the same place. I just hope George doesn't do anything stupid in public”

“Why do you think we’re here?” Lando says, grinning as he gestures to himself and Charles. “We’re like the UN Peacekeepers of the paddock. We’ll keep them both separate and make sure nothing happens today.”

“Like that's very reassuring,” Y/n mutters.

As the drivers line up for the national anthem, Y/n stays glued to the monitors, trying to keep a low profile. George, however, was impossible to miss.

“Great,” she mutters to herself as the camera pans to him. His jaw was clenched, his expression thunderous. It looked like he was barely holding himself together.

Oscar was hovering near George, subtly blocking him every time he shifted toward Max. Y/n couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Aussie, who looked like he’d accidentally wandered into a battlefield.

From his other side, Lando was casually draping an arm over his shoulder as if trying to calm him down. Instead, it seems to piss off George even more as he tried to shrug him off with a sharp glare, but Lando remained latched on.

“Please let this be over,” Y/n pleads at the screen.

The tension only escalated as the drivers headed to their cars. George made one last attempt to corner Max, and Y/n’s heart leaped into her throat.

“Oh no. Oh no. Don’t do it,” she whispered at the screen.

Oscar, ever the unwilling mediator, once again intercepted George, his hands up in a placating gesture. Y/n let out a relieved breath as George backed off, though he still looked furious.

She slumped back into her seat, her nerves frayed.

“Just one race,” she muttered to herself. “One race without drama. Is that too much to ask for?”

The drivers climbed into their cars, and the screen cut to the grid formation. Y/n felt a brief moment of peace, knowing that for the next couple of hours, George and Max would be too busy driving to tear into each other.

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Tensions are at an all-time high after today’s race! George Russell’s post-race interview took a dramatic turn when a journalist brought up Max’s cryptic baby comment and rumors about George’s sister. 😱 After repeatedly trying to dodge the question, George snapped, delivered a firm warning about personal boundaries, and stormed off.

The paddock drama just keeps escalating. Fans spotted George glaring at Max throughout the national anthem, and it seems like Oscar and Lando had to play paddock security to keep the peace. What’s your take on all this chaos? 🍼👀

Post-Race Interview Transcript:

Journalist: George, P5 today—a decent result to round out the season. Can you walk us through how you’re feeling about the race and the team’s performance?

George: (nodding) Yeah, it was a solid race. Not quite the result we hoped for, but the team worked hard all weekend. We gave it our best shot with the car we had. Of course, as a driver, you always want more, but I think we made the most of the opportunities we had out there.

Journalist: Fair enough. And, of course, today marks the end of an era with Lewis Hamilton’s final race for Mercedes. What’s it like to share this moment with him? Any reflections?

George: (pauses, visibly emotional) It’s bittersweet, really. Lewis has been such a huge part of the team and the sport as a whole. He’s not just a teammate but also a mentor and a legend in Formula 1. Sharing the garage with him has been an honor. I think I speak for everyone at Mercedes when I say we’re incredibly grateful for everything he’s brought to the team and wish him all the best for what comes next.

Journalist: Well said. Now, George, I have to shift gears a bit—there’s been a lot of chatter about some off-track tension. During the national anthem, fans couldn’t help but notice you glaring at Max Verstappen. Care to address that?

George: (stiffens, smile faltering) I wasn’t glaring at anyone. I was focused on the race, like I always am. People are reading into things that just aren’t there.

Journalist: Really? Because from the footage, it looked quite... pointed. And after Max’s comments yesterday about making peace with you ‘because of a baby,’ it’s hard not to wonder—

George: (cuts in, voice tight) I don’t see how that’s relevant to today’s race.

Journalist: (pressing) George, fans are speculating nonstop. Is it true? Is your sister having Max Verstappen’s baby?

George: (visibly bristling, voice rising) I think we’ve strayed far enough from the purpose of this interview. This is about Formula 1, about racing—not gossip or baseless rumors.

Journalist: With all due respect, George, Max’s words weren’t exactly cryptic. He was talking about a baby and making amends with you. Surely, you can understand why people are curious.

George: (snaps, voice sharp) Curious or not, it’s none of anyone’s business. This is supposed to be a post-race interview—not a soap opera recap. The media needs to learn where to draw the line. We’re here to race, not have our personal lives dissected under a microscope.

Journalist: But George, the fans—

George: (interrupts sharply) No. Enough. The media needs to maintain boundaries and stop meddling in our personal lives. I’m done here.

(George rips off his team cap, storms away from the interview pen, and disappears into the paddock, leaving the journalist and cameras stunned.)

Comments:

user: George was NOT here for the nonsense today. That ‘draw the line’ speech? ICONIC

user: Honestly, respect to George for standing up for himself. The journalist was pushing way too hard. Let the man race in peace user: Never seen George this mad before 😳 What is going on in the House of Commons???

user: Why do I feel like this confirms the baby news? Like he didn’t deny it, and his reaction was TOO intense

user: Respect to George for standing up to the journalist, but let’s not lie—he 100% confirmed the drama with that reaction. 🍼

user: Okay, but imagine George finding out about the baby at the same time as us 😭

user: George looked like he was going to deck Max during the national anthem. Thank you, Oscar, for literally being a human shield

user: No but why did George look like he was seconds away from body-slamming Max during the anthem? Lando had to literally hold him back 💀

user: Okay, but the real question is… what BABY? Whose baby? Did George even KNOW about this baby before today?!

user: Theory time! 1. Max and Y/n were dating in secret. 2. George didn’t know about the baby and is spiraling. 3. Netflix is eating GOOD

user: Imagine being George and learning about your sister’s alleged baby from Twitter

user: Lewis’ last race with Merc and THIS is what George has to deal with. Poor guy’s gonna need therapy after this season

user: The way everyone’s ignoring this is also Lewis’ last race with Mercedes 💀. George snapped so hard we forgot to be emotional

user: Lando probably whispered something dumb like ‘You’re doing amazing, sweetie’ while George was vibrating with rage

user: F1 isn’t just a sport. It’s a reality TV show with occasional car racing

Max stood under the glare of the cameras, trying to look composed despite the post-race fatigue gnawing at him. P6 wasn’t what he’d wanted, but at least he’d avoided the chaos brewing elsewhere in the paddock—or so he thought.

“So, the strategy was clearly compromised by the penalty,” the journalist asked, her tone probing. “Do you think there was any way to recover from that?”

Max nodded slightly, his words coming out measured. “Yeah, it was tough. We lost track position early, and once you’re in traffic—”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

The voice was eerily calm, almost polite, but it carried a weight that immediately silenced the conversation. Max turned to see George standing there, his posture casual but his jaw clenched tight.

The journalist blinked, clearly taken aback. “Uh, George? We’re in the middle of—”

“I need a moment with Max,” George cut her off, his tone civil but firm. He glanced at Max’s PR manager with an unnervingly calm smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”

The PR manager hesitated, looking between Max and George. Max let out a quiet sigh, already resigned to whatever was about to unfold. He gave a small nod. “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Before anyone could say another word, George’s hand clamped onto Max’s shoulder. It wasn’t rough, but it left no room for argument.

Max allowed himself to be steered away, his body language slumping slightly as though accepting his fate. George didn’t say a word as he guided Max through the paddock, weaving past mechanics and team personnel. A few glanced their way, their curiosity piqued, but no one dared to intervene.

“Are you going to say something, or are we just walking in ominous silence?” Max finally muttered, keeping his tone light but knowing full well George wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

George didn’t respond, his grip tightening slightly as they turned into a quieter corridor behind the team hospitality units.

“Okay,” Max said with a dry laugh, “this is starting to feel like a bad cop drama.”

George stopped abruptly, spinning Max around and slamming him against the wall. The thud echoed in the empty space, and Max winced slightly but didn’t resist.

“We need to talk,” George said, his voice low and steely, every word laced with barely contained anger.

Max met his gaze, his usual unflappable demeanor faltering under the intensity of George’s glare. For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy in the silence.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @96mcobo @grussellsprout @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz

@henna006 @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @formulaal @sleutherclaw

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[beeseverywhen]

I mean like. Not to bring the mood down but... you guys know that's because American media is everywhere right? Like the world is unable to avoid some version of American accent on a regular basis. Of course ppl find it easy to mimic. This is absolutely not restricted to ppl in the UK, its really common for ppl who learn English as a foreign language to have perfect 'American actor' accents (cause the reason everyone's so good at the American accent that's expected of them as actors is cause at large there's little distinction between regions in the 'Hollywood accent' that ends up on TV and films and stuff. You guys have massive regional differences in pronounceation, but what makes it on to TV (in 9/10 cases) is a very standardised version of American English.)

But yeah. It's not just actors lol. Most British ppl can speak in a passable american accent, as can loads and loads of people worldwide. I'm not saying this to be like 'you should feel guilty! 😡' but it does always stun me when Americans are unaware of the impact their country has worldwide on all versions of English (and even on use of native languages. Many countries are using English more and more over their native languages and dialects , and yeah, historical colonialism has had an impact there.)

But in the last few decades things have progressed way way faster and that, is thanks to the impact of anglo/american/ect lead capitalism. I'm in no way dismissing the impact the UK has on this, but in recent years, its the US that is largely pushing that train .While the UK and several English speaking commonwealth countries are very involved in this kind of capitalist imperialism, there's a reason that more and more people are speaking American English. Not one of the many UK dialects, not Australian English, or NZ English. Across the world more and more people are increasingly speaking in the same standardised american dialect that's in so much of the media you export. Hollywood based media, with that standardised accent/ dialect and the standardised 'normal american life', has a stranglehold on the world and I just find it crazy that a lot of you guys don't even know.

It's stupid stuff like. So many countries are importing american cars and are widening their roads/ changing town planning to account for it (this is less of a thing in the UK but I see it more and more when I travel). Its the food becoming avaliable everywhere. Its the influence that for profit healthcare has even on countries with socialised health systems. Its houses being built to account for American style appliances. Fashion trends. Worldwide, everything is slowly evolving to be closer and closer to this 'American standard' which honestly? I really don't think actually represents the lives of real American people either. You've been turned in to products, the system has taken an unrealistic snapshot of 'American life' and it's being sold to you all day in day out, but it's also being sold to the rest of us. It's being pushed on us all.

Kids in the UK go through phases of talking only in American accents. Anyone born later than the 90s is carrying round 2 sets of spelling and vocab, cause we're all so used to the American way, that you barely know which one you're using half of the time. In the UK we have always had really strong regional accents yeah, and dialects differ between areas that seem tiny to you guys, I know. But like. Those dialects are being lost cause all UK accents are evolving to become closer to this standardised american and yeah not great, but at least we share a language! US American society is largely rooted in the same foundations as UK society, largely we have the same flaws! But oh my god. What about the rest of the world.

It's global. This impact continues to be seen, steamrollering ahead, in places that had completely different starting points. UK culture isn't that dissimilar to that of the US, so we aren't losing nearly as much as cultures that had something completely different. So much is being lost.

Languages and dialects and everything else is just being wallpapered over so we all meet the same ideal of the 'American life' and it's not even real! It's just a product based on how ppl were actually living in the US, manipulated until it's the most marketable mould. You guys are victims of it as well but like. It's based on your culture so you don't lose as much if you conform to it. Just like how in the UK, if we conform, we lose more than US, but nowhere near as much as countries that had languages, dialects and cultures that were so so different to UK/US culture. The less like the US, your starting point, the more there is to lose.

And look. I said it to start with. I'm not having a go. That's not what this is. But you guys really need to be aware, you need to make an effort to understand the impact that this plastic Hollywood american culture is having on the rest of the world. You need to actively look for it, and make an effort to not pay in to it. Because when Americans see other cultures represented in media and say its not relatable, when you guys go on holiday and make no effort to learn local customs, and try and pay in dollars and spend your time abroad like you're still in America, when you see cultural differences and immediately argue that the American way is better and of course everyone should have giant cars and never dry laundry outdoors and live in American style homes, without any kind of critical thought. Just 'this is how we do it so why wouldn't everyone else do it this way. This is the only way. The American way is obviously best.' When you guys do that you are individually feeding in to this absolute bulldozing of cultures (including American ones!) to allow for better marketability.

It isn't any one individual American citizens fault that things are the way they are, and you guys are victims of the same system, but you need to have some self awareness when it comes to the fact that as individuals you are unknowingly, helping driving this forwards and as individuals, there are things you can do to limit your personal impact (and no arguing that you have no culture is not it!!! Being all self deprecating doesn't do shit. Take some responsibility and accept that individual Americans didn't create this system, but currently, individual Americans really are doing their bit to keep promoting it, to keep pushing it on the rest of the world.

And I've already rambled for an age so I'll stop here but I just want to make clear as an ending note here, that this really isn't about piling on Americans and being all 'boo it's all America's fault. They should apologise. Their culture isn't worth anything.' Not at all this is the opposite of that. The fact that millions of Americans have been convinced you have no culture, all while a mimicry of American culture is plastered on to the rest of the world, and while you as individuals are encouraged to help that happen, often without even realising what you're doing; is a crime. You've been wronged, as have we all.

And America is not the problem. The problem is imperialism and it didn't start with you guys. It started in Europe, and Europeans, particularly British ppl, have a responsibility to push back and be self aware, take some fucking responsibility and not inadvertently keep feeding in to that system, just as you guys do. The US didn't start the fire, imperialist capitalism is a fire that started burning long before the United States was even considered, but its on all of us, to do what we can to not feed that fire. And right now? You guys are the face of it.

This idea of what America is, is the face of imperialistic capitalism, and that means that even if you don't mean to, you guys are feeding that fire more so than the rest of us. You're responsible for spreading it, more so than the rest of us. And if you don't step up and take responsibility, accept that you're gonna get it wrong sometimes and you need to try to do better; if we don't all do that. There will be nothing left. They'll paper over it all, the lives of real Americans just as much as those in Scotland and India and the Netherlands, and 100 other cultures, that are at risk, thanks to this fire, that's currently, largely coming from America.

So yeah. It's absolutely not just on you guys and ppl who act like there's no racism or wealth divide in Europe or anywhere else for that matter are complete idiots, however, this Americanisation of the world (and I hesitate to call it that. Because its not a representation of real American lives. Its simply wearing an American face.) Its real. It's happening.

And we don't tell you about it to make you feel guilty (those of us who aren't dicks at least) ,we are telling you. We are kicking up a fuss. Because it isn't fair. It's not right and while individual Americans ignore that and refuse to take responsibility where they can (small apples. We aren't asking for you to call a violent revolution in our names. Just take some time to learn about the rest of the world. Stop assuming America is always right and examine your biases. When you find them. Stop personally pushing them.) , while that is happening, as individuals, you are contributing to this. It's not even altruism. This system is hurting Americans too. It's hurting us all. All we ask is that you do what you can to not personally contribute, and keep an open mind, be aware. That's all any of us can do.

when a british actor does an american accent everyone’s like “i didn’t even know they were british until they were on colbert.” but when americans do a british accent everyone’s like “they’re supposed to be from east cocksford but their glottal e’s are north dicksford. shameful.”

[catchastarorten]

—More than anything.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x lover!fem!reader

Summary: You had supported him through everything, but when you fell sick, he couldn't save you because of debt, so he participated in the games. The blood, the violence, it was all worth it because it was all for you, but he still couldn’t save you, even after winning.

Warnings: angst, illness, death, grief/loss, mentions of violence, guilt/sacrifice, emotional distress, Sang-woo won the games in this au, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.9k

The first time you met Sang-woo, it was in the bustling hallways of Seoul National University, your books pressed against your chest as he nearly toppled over you in his haste. Apologies poured out of him, flustered but composed, but it was the soft smile that followed that made you pause. You didn’t know it then, but that clumsy encounter would change both of your lives forever.

From that moment, he had become everything to you. And soon enough, you realized you were everything to him too. Sang-woo was the kind of man who always seemed in control of himself. But with you, that cool demeanor softened. He would laugh more, touch your hand absentmindedly, watch you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

You supported each other through the tough years at university. His mind was brilliant—quick, sharp, and endlessly determined. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the pride of his family, the hope of his mother. He was going to do great things, you always believed that, and you reminded him every chance you got.

Sang-woo always spoke of a future where he’d be successful, where his mother would never have to work a day in her life again. And somewhere in that future—he said with a tentative smile—was you.

Years passed, and the challenges of adulthood crept in. Sang-woo’s ambitions, once so pure and noble, became entangled in desperation as he fell into debt. It started small—a few bad investments, a loan here and there, promises that he’d make it all back soon. But soon, the debts piled into something worse, a mess that loomed over both of your lives.

He had so much promise, so much potential, and you wanted to see him succeed. So when he started to falter—when the world wasn’t as kind, when the debts began to gather up, and his once-unshakable confidence began to fracture—you did what you thought any partner would do. You helped him.

You saw the way the guilt ate away at him. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well.

“I’ll pay off this part for now,” you’d told him gently, holding the bank statement in your hand. He had stared at you, his expression tight, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

“No,” he had said firmly. “You’ve done enough. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

But you didn’t care about that. You knew he felt ashamed, that his pride was bleeding, but you loved him too much to let him drown. “Sang-woo,” you whispered, reaching out to place your hand over his. “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I believe in you.”

He looked at you like you were his lifeline, the only light in his darkening world. He kissed your hand and said nothing more, but no matter how much you reassured him, the guilt lingered. He began to withdraw, the weight of his mistakes crushed him.

Then, as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough, you fell ill. It started with fatigue and a persistent ache in your chest. You brushed it off at first, telling yourself that it was just stress, but when the symptoms worsened, you finally went to the hospital.

The diagnosis was a gut punch. The doctors spoke in clinical terms, but all Sang-woo heard at the moment was that it was serious. You needed treatment, the treatment was possible, but expensive.

The hospital bills mounted quickly. You had always lived sparingly, but this was different. The treatment you needed was far beyond what either of you could afford, especially with Sang-woo already drowning in debt. You had tried to remain strong, tried to reassure him even when your body weakened and the days became harder to endure.

But Sang-woo wasn’t strong. At least not in the way you were. He didn't want to put up the pretense of having a "perfect" reputation anymore, he just wanted you.

One night, as you lay in your hospital bed, pale and shivering despite the blankets covering you, he dropped to his knees beside you. He gripped your hand so tightly it hurt, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

“I’ll get the money,” he said, his voice trembling with determination. “I’ll find a way. I promise.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the man you loved falling apart. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, guilt and desperation consuming him.

“Sang-woo,” you whispered, your heart breaking for him. For both of you. “I’ll be okay... don’t do anything reckless.”

But he shook his head, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to know so well. He pressed his lips to your forehead, a lingering, desperate kiss.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “With the money. Just hold on for me.”

You wanted to believe him, but as you watched him walk away, a part of you knew that he was heading down a dangerous path.

At first, you tried to think light. You thought he had simply left to clear his head. Maybe he was meeting someone to talk about loans or some other last-ditch effort to save you. But then the days turned into weeks, and Sang-woo didn’t return.

You tried calling him, but his phone went unanswered. You asked the nurses, his mother, even some of his old university friends, but no one had seen him. You didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or heartbroken. All you knew was that he wasn’t here, and you were running out of time.

The nurses came and went, offering kind smiles and gentle reassurances, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed—what you wanted—was him, by your side.

You missed his voice, his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand and promise you that everything would be okay. You told yourself that he was out there fighting for you, but as the days stretched on, doubt began to creep in.

In your quieter moments, you wondered if he’d given up on you. If the burden had become too much and he just left without a trace. But deep down, you knew Sang-woo. You knew how much he loved you, how determined he could be. He’d find a way back to you. He had to.

In your final days, you thought about him often. You tried to convince yourself that he had a plan, that he would come rushing through the hospital doors at any moment with that look on his face, telling you everything was going to be okay, that you could heal properly now. But he didn’t.

Instead, you were left with an empty chair by your bedside, your heart aching with the absence of the man you loved more than anything in the world.

On the last night, you couldn’t fight the tears anymore. You whispered into the quiet room—“I just wish you were here.” Your voice cracked, and you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over. You dreamed of him one last time—of the way he smiled when you first met, of his hand in yours, of the warmth that had once filled your life.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was what Sang-woo was enduring.

He had entered the games through a salesman with a suitcase and a card with a number on the back. The games were a deadly competition where the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever faced. Life and death were decided in brutal, messed up versions of childhood games.

At first, he told himself he was doing it for you, for the money that could save your life. But as the games progressed, as blood stained his hands and the faces of those he’d sacrificed haunted his dreams, the lines began to blur.

How much of himself was he willing to lose to save you?

Every decision, every betrayal he made, weighed on him. He thought of you constantly, your smile a light in the darkness. When he felt the weight of his actions crushing him, he clung to the hope that he could still save you. That he could win, come back to you, and make everything right, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how much pain he had to endure, it was all for you. Because how could he call himself a man—your man—if he couldn't even keep you by his side? If he couldn't even get the money to save you and have you in his arms again, healthy and full of life?

When Sang-woo finally emerged from the games, clutching the blood money that was counted from each of the lifeless bodies of the other players, he felt hollow. His actions, the lives he’d taken, the people he’d betrayed—all of it threatened to suffocate him. But he pushed it aside. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was you.

He rushed to the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He imagined the look on your face when he walked through the door, how you’d smile and tell him that he’d always been your hero. And for the first time since the games, he smiled. He smiled.

But when he reached your room, he froze, and everything inside him seemed to shatter.

You were still, too still. Your chest didn't rise or fall, your lips were pale, and your eyes—those eyes he had loved so much—were closed forever.

The nurse had pity in her eyes as she approached him. "I'm sorry... she passed away a few hours prior. We... we tried calling you, but..."

“No,” he choked out, he staggered to your bedside, falling to his knees onto the mattress of the bed, his hands reaching for you. “No, no, no… please, no…”

He pulled you into his arms, cradling your lifeless body as tears streamed down his face. “Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up. I have the money now. I did it. I got it for you. You can get better now. Please, just… open your eyes.”

But you didn't. You couldn't.

“I got the money,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. “I have it. We can pay for your treatment now. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay…”

Sang-woo's hand trembled as he cupped your face. Your skin was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he remembered. He pressed his forehead to yours, the card that contained all the prize money laid forgotten on the floor, a cruel reminder of what he had to sacrifice to save you—of the blood, the death, and the lives he had destroyed in those games. He had told himself it was all for you, that he could endure anything if it meant seeing you smile again. But now, as he held your cold body in his arms, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve stayed with you. I thought… I thought I could save you.”

He had done everything he could to save you, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. And now, he was left with nothing, because you had been his everything.

[melzula]

hii i was wondering could you write a oneshot of how zuko's self cautious of his scar and reader just kisses his scar and reassures him and tells him that hes perfect and that she loves everything abt him. This is in a very like intimate and loving way ykyk

a/n: ah this plot is so sweet! had to rewrite this piece a few times before landing on something i liked so i hope you enjoy!

summary: zuko asks you to remove his bandages

“Are you sure you want me to do this? I can fetch Iroh instead.”

“No,” comes Zuko’s soft reply, his sullen features bathed in candle light. “I want it to be you.”

Sighing softly, you give him an understanding nod and press a careful kiss to his check. The Prince remains stoic in spite of your show of affection, simply signaling for you to proceed.

It’s been a week since the Agni Kai, and the healer has given Zuko the okay to remove his bandages. The wound should be healed by now, nothing but a painless scar with a painful memory attached to it. It’s not only your first time seeing Zuko’s new face but his as well, and neither of you are sure what to expect.

You were honestly surprised when the Prince had asked for you to be the one to remove his bandages. He’d been cold and standoffish with you since your departure from the Fire Nation, something you couldn’t blame him for considering all he’d been through, but you didn’t expect him to trust you with something so important so soon. It made you nervous, but it also made you relieved to know he still felt he could trust you with such things.

Your fingers work carefully as you unravel the white cloth around his head, doing your best not to cause too much discomfort for your Prince. He says nothing as you move and only watches you through the reflection of the mirror before him.

“Are you ready?” You ask him softly, hesitating as you reach the final layer of wrapping.

“Hesitation is a sign of weakness,” Zuko replies gruffly, and that’s all you need to hear before finally pulling away the last of the bandages.

The room is silent and tense as Zuko stares at his own reflection. The skin around his eye is angry and red, permanently damaged and forever serving as a reminder of his failure. He can hardly see out of his left eye, but he’s still able to make out your figure watching on silently as he assesses the damage.

“Go ahead and say it.”

“Say what, Zuko?” You murmur softly, carefully resting a hand upon his back.

“Say you’re disgusted by me. Say you’re repulsed,” he snarls bitterly. “Say that you’re too embarrassed to be seen with such a failure!”

“Is that really what you think?” You utter sadly, a pained smile on your lips as you carefully reach out to touch his face. His hand immediately flies up to catch your wrist in a firm grip before you can get any closer, and despite the discomfort it brings you make no attempt to move.

“It’s what I know.”

“Then you must not know me at all,” you counter with a small shake of your head.

Reality sets in and Zuko guiltily removes his ironclad grip on your wrist. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you, but there’s an amalgamation of emotions festering within him at the sight of his deformity. He was a Prince, he wasn’t meant to look like this, he wasn’t meant to be out at sea fruitlessly trying to find the Avatar so he could end his banishment. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“You’re perfect, Zuko,” you console with a careful brush of your fingertips against the freshly healed skin. His eyes flutter shut at the comforting sensation, and you take it as a sign to continue. “I love you the way you are, and this scar doesn’t change that.”

He can’t help but gasp when he feels the softness of your lips pressing against his temple. How could you not feel sickened by him? How could you still love him after everything?

“Your scar is nothing but a sign of your strength, I hope you know that,” you tell him before pressing another kiss to his cheek just below his eye.

He says nothing in response, but you know that he understands you. With you, he doesn’t have to feel shame or guilt. Your love for him knows no bounds, and there’s nothing he could do that would ever make you turn away from him.

He sits in silence as you begin to apply a soothing balm to his skin. His eyes close in contentment and for the first time since leaving home he finally feels at peace.

He knows then that he made the right choice in having you be the one to remove his bandages. No one sees him like you do, and it’s more than he could ever ask for.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

[calliesmemes]

ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED QUOTES FROM TUMBLR TEXTPOSTS, X (formerly known as twitter) POSTS, TIKTOK, MEMES, AND OTHER SOURCES AROUND THE INTERNET

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   Currently considering becoming a bother and a nuisance, maybe even a menace or a rascal. ”

“   Hungry? Eat the government. ”

“   Yes, I wanna fuck after every argument. ”

“   Silence, you uneducated peanut! ”

“  They should invent a being alive that isn’t so difficult. ”

“   Women have to think I’m hot or none of this matters. ”

“   Due to personal reasons I will be named an enemy of the state. ”

“   Being overdressed is a myth made up by people who didn’t want you to have fun and be sexy. ”

“   What even are daddy issues? Just traumatize your father back. ”

“   I LOVE complaining! You can’t take that away from me! ”

“   I went to the silly goose convention and they all knew you. ”

“   I’m simultaneously ‘I’m tired of this grandpa’ and ‘that’s too damn bad!’ ”

“   The word ew coming out of a pretty girl’s mouth holds so much power … I think that it can tear apart nations. ”

“   Someone made fun of my shoes and the whole time I just thought of ways to push them out the window. ”

“   If you’re short, simply get taller. ”

“   I better think twice? Buddy I don’t even think once. ”

“   My off putting looks, awkward demeanor, and strange behavior have captivated you. ”

“   There’s something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you. Can we kiss? ”

“   You are a fool. When you walk, clown music plays. ”

“   I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favorite? ”

“   I really do hate thinking. ”

“   In my defense, I simply do not vibe with the law. ”

“   I’ve done nothing wrong. Except all the atrocities. Besides that, I’m innocent. ”

“   Sorry I couldn’t hear you over my internal monologue. ”

“   Of course you have white hair and trauma. ”

“   So apparently the bad vibes I’ve been feeling are actually ‘severe psychological distress’. ”

“   Stop calling me a bad person just because I’m orchestrating your downfall! ”

“   The more lip gloss I collect the longer I live. ”

“   Sorry that I am obsessed with you in the unhealthiest way possible. As if it's my fault ”

“   The multiple failed assassination attempts against me have helped build both character and self esteem. ”

“   I could be your loser boyfriend. Do you ever think about that? ”

“   Accidentally went and got myself killed yesterday, but god wont let me die so I’m back ”

“   What do you mean napping isn't a good coping mechanism? What do you mean my problems are still here? ”

“   Academic validation is required for my sanity. ”

“   RIP to everyone killed by the gods for hubris but I’m different and better. Maybe even better than the gods. ”

“   Researching the stages of grief to see if I can get them finished in ten minutes tops. ”

“   My parents were like I’m gonna make a child that is so beyond help. ”

“   It’s not easy to admit when you’re wrong, and that’s why I won’t do it. ”

“   Why can’t this family ever have a funky good time? ”

“   How do I show people that I’m more than my unethical career choice? ”

“   I fucked my way into this mess, and I’ll fuck my way out. ”

“   You look so biteable today. ”

“   Why am I suffering? I have so many correct opinions and takes. ”

“   I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST THAT I CANNOT GO BACK TO! anyways ”

“   Challenging authority, angering gods. The family business. ”

“   Third base is me telling you about my father. ”

“   Hey girl. Plagued by terrifying visions? ”

“   Got caught giving a fuck. Embarrassing. ”

“   I didn’t ‘miss’ the red flags; I saw them and thought that they looked sexy. ”

“   Do my dark circles and deteriorating health make me look hot? ”

“   I get my news from the only reliable source, cryptic symbolism in my dreams. ”

“   Another day of being a bisexual disaster. ”

“   I’m going to let myself be a little unhinged today, as a treat. ”

“   Some of you act like murder is such a big deal. ”

“   You wanna hunt me for sport so bad that it makes you look stupid. ”

“   You’re not a girlboss unless you’ve killed someone. ”

“   It’s so weird how no one ever has correct opinions about things except for me. ”

“   Hello, my love — I mean, my rival ”

“   No one is calling me baby and it’s outrageous I can’t believe it. ”

“   No talking stage. Mutual obsession and you see god in my eyes or nothing. ”

“   I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOOKUP CULTURE DIE IN MY ARMS ”

“   Yes baby your emotional walls are high and impenetrable can we kiss now? ”

“   Affection is disgusting. Drown me in it. ”

“   I am gatekeeping my respect from you. ”

“   Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. ”

“   I am equal parts fuck around and find out and please don’t yell at me I’ll cry. ”

“   Short legs, big butt. I’m a corgi. ”

“   Fuck being the bigger person; I’m going to start biting people. ”

“   Well that wasn’t very slay of you! ”

“   May I please get a crumb of affection? ”

“   I crave power! Please don’t yell, though; I’m sensitive. ”

“   You call it a near death experience; I call it a vibe check from God. ”

“   Here are some scissors. Now cut it out. ”

“   Might commit a little tomfoolery, maybe even some shenanigans. ”

“   All these flavors, and you choose to be salty. ”

“   How can I live, laugh, love in these conditions? ”

“   What if I said ‘to be honest’ but then lied? ”

“   I'm financially at a stage where I understand why people do fraud. ”

“   Yes I may be evil and morally corrupt, but I’m also incredibly beautiful and I think that makes up for it honestly. ”

“   Debates are stupid. Why would I want to sit down and argue with someone blatantly dumber than me? ”

“   I forget but I do NOT forgive.. I'm just walking around hating bitches can't remember why ”

“   Ding dong your opinion is wrong! ”

“   I’m coming for your kneecaps. ”

“   You dropped your nose you fucking clown. ”

“   Are you a fire alarm? ‘Cause you are really fucking loud and annoying. ”

“   Call me an escalator, because I let people down. ”

“   I love me a good lesbian scandal! ”

“   If you can’t run away from your problems, you’re not running fast enough. ”

“   Everything I want to do is illegal. ”

“   Don’t make me hit your ankle with my Barbie scooter! ”

“   I tell gay jokes because I am a gay joke. ”

“   Fuck! I dropped my mental stability! ”

[azzibuckets]

you’re so good though [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: pazzi in the bahamas. that’s it

Paige could care less about the Baha Mar MVP trophy weighing in her hands. As soon as Azzi accepted her All-Tournament trophy, she was launching herself at her best friend. “You’re gonna crush the hardware,” Azzi giggled, but she buried her chin in Paige’s shoulder anyways.

Paige squeezed a hand on the younger girl’s hip. “All-tournament team. Not too bad for your third game back.” In all honesty, not too bad didn’t even cut it. Azzi had shined on the court tonight, scoring a whopping 18 points to keep them in the game after a rocky third quarter. Seeing her jog down the court, confidence etched into her eyebrow as she sunk basket after basket had made Paige’s heart thump even more. She’d waited years for this, to play in the same court as Azzi, and the time was finally here.

Azzi rolled her eyes. Lifting her jersey to wipe sweat from her forehead, she glanced down at her trophy, happiness shining in her eyes as her dimple deepened. “Your ass almost didn’t get MVP tonight.”

“I don’t wanna hear nothing,” Paige grumbled, punching Azzi’s shoulder playfully. “Geno’s gonna give me hell about those turnovers later.”

Azzi laughed and drew Paige in as someone approached them for a picture. “Best player in the nation,” Paige crowed, throwing her arm around the dark haired girl’s shoulder.

As they walked to the press room, Azzi nudged her knuckles against Paige, their signature subtle reminder of each other’s presence. The blonde was still flushed from the game, her sweaty baby hairs sticking to the nape of her neck, but Azzi still thought her girlfriend looked as beautiful as ever. Paige looked up, her blue eyes bright beneath her lashes, and smiled one of her goofy smiles, allowing herself to intertwine her pinky with Azzi’s for a brief moment. She let go before anyone could see, but both of them looked away and blushed at the clandestine contact.

“You fools are so obvious,” Ice muttered as she walked past them. “Y’all better tone it down for the press conference or CD’s gonna be on y’all’s asses.” (Azzi did, in fact, not tone it down)

As the press conference started, Azzi yawned. Most of the questions were directed at Paige, and she didn’t even mind. She was ready to go to sleep after a long day. Azzi hadn’t even registered that the reporter had directed a question at either of them until Paige was turning to her with a smirk. “You got it.”

“Nope, you got it,” Azzi responded, knowing she had no idea what the reporter had just asked.

“Nah, I’ve been talking too much.” Paige shifted forward, placing her elbows on the table, as Azzi knocked her knee into hers under the table.

“Nope, you got it,” Azzi repeated. She lifted her hand and rested it on Paige’s back, trailing her fingers and smirking to herself as Paige shivered. “You’re so good, though, please continue,” she teased, her eyes running down Paige’s flexing bicep. She swallowed - Paige really had been in the gym over the summer.

“Nope. You haven’t done media in two years.” Paige said, jerking away from Azzi’s touch. The heat of the younger girl’s fingers sliding down her jersey and flirting with the skin at her waist was becoming too much.

“Seriously, come on,” Azzi argued, fighting to control her face. The daggers Paige sent her way meant that she’d be in for it later, but she didn’t care. Flustered Paige was her favorite Paige.

The older girl shook her head, her stare sharpening as she pressed her foot against Azzi’s ankle in warning.

Azzi sighed in relief as another reporter began talking, but Paige’s hand landing on her thigh before slowly sliding off her knee reminded her that she was still in deep shit.

Later that night, when they returned to the hotel to change before dinner, Paige’s hands were on Azzi before the door had even closed behind them. “You thought you were being cute and shit, huh,” Paige said gruffly, sliding her hands around the waistband of Azzi’s shorts.

“Nope.” Azzi popped the p, hands reaching up to slowly undo Paige’s hair from her ponytail. Running her hand through the blonde strands, she fluttered her lashes at her girlfriend. “Just being kind.”

Paige’s fingers danced across Azzi’s ribs, pushing up her jersey to feel the warmth of her bare skin. “18 points and the ego got to your head, hmm?”

“5 turnovers and your ego’s still big,” Azzi retorted, shifting her thigh between Paige’s legs and pressing up. The blonde’s breath hitched at the contact.

Paige’s eyes flared. “You brought a turtleneck?”

“We’re in the fucking Bahamas, dumbass. ‘Course I didn’t.”

Paige smiled smugly. “You’re gonna need to buy one after this.”

“Paige, we have dinner in ten minutes,” Azzi retorted, but nevertheless tilted her neck for Paige to skim her lips across.

“Ten minutes is all I need,” Paige murmured, teeth colliding with Azzi’s collarbone.

Azzi’s mouth parted slightly. The little pants escaping her lips were making Paige go feral, and her hips pushing up against the blonde’s didn’t help one bit. “We can’t.”

“Who says?”

“This is my family we’re making wait,” Azzi argued, tangling her hand in Paige’s hair.

“Are you tryna convince me or yourself?” Paige smirked, now peppering kisses across Azzi’s shoulder.

“Paige.”

“Alright, alright.” Paige let go of Azzi’s hips and stepped back, her lips shiny with spit and her pupils blown over with want.

Azzi giggled at the glazed over look in the blonde’s eyes. She pressed a kiss to Paige’s mouth. “Later, okay?” She bit at Paige’s earlobe before drawing back with a coy smile. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, MVP.”

“Fuck.”

[venerawrites]

summary: You and Sasuke have been caught in a toxic cycle of love and hate for as long as you can remember. Yet when you try to break free, he finds himself unable to let you go. (14k words)

warning(s): 18+ content (minors DO NOT INTERACT!), toxic! fem reader, toxic!Sasuke (a bit ooc as well?), mentions of cheating, love-hate relationship, p in v, oral (f! receiving), oral (m! receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

author's note: that was supposed to be a a short nsfw fic, yet somehow it became... this. Anyway, I am actually really proud of this one, so I really hope you enjoy! Shoutout to the anon who had send me their thoughts on toxic reader x toxic character , your message was main inspo for this one <3

Sasuke Uchiha has made many mistakes in his life. Fact.

The biggest one, however, had to be you.

From the moment he met you during one of his travels after the war, he could feel it deep inside his chest - a growing feeling of irritation, one that he has not felt since his early genin days. He has seen women like you before - ones that rely heavily on their beauty to get what they want. One coy smile or a seductive glance was enough to tilt the odds in your favour in every situation and - God! - did Sasuke hate it. How was it fair that someone like you could always achieve anything they put their mind to with such an ease, while others had to spend years in hard work while patiently waiting for their moment to shine?

But it wasn't just your looks that captivated people. Your wit, sharper and faster than his sword, had to be your biggest weapon - and you wielded it masterfully, he had to admit. You spared no man or a woman, as you let charming lies and sugarcoated compliments tease the egos of those around you, quickly turning them in nothing more than powerless puppets in your hands.

What angered him the most, however, is how aware you were of your power. You used it unapologetically, without even a single ounce of guilt or shame, as if it was your birthright to make everyone else around you bow to your will. So when he found himself in your bed just a few days after your first meeting, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust while his fingers squeezed your throat so hard, you could swear you were seeing stars, he convinced himself that you deserve no mercy.

No, far from it!

Women like you deserved to be reminded of their place. And Sasuke was determined to be the one to do it.

He kept reminding you over and over again for the short period he was visiting your village - in your bedroom; in the shower; on the table of the Council of your village; on the training grounds under the moonlight; in the secluded corners of the leader's (who was also your pathetic lover) building where no one dared to wander. He had made it his mission you understood - no matter how cunning your schemes were, you would never have the upper hand over him.

Being a good and changed man now, Sasuke knew he couldn't just let you drift through life relying on lies and using people. So he did what he thought was the best way to deal with a menace like you...

he married you.

It his mind, it was perfectly logical solution. If you were going to wreak havoc across the nations, Sasuke figured he might as well be the one to keep you in check. He had witnessed first-hand how many fools have fallen to your sweet deceptions and he knew that if there was one man who can handle you, it was him.

In addition, you were also the perfect tool to get his many 'fangirls' and Naruto off his back. He knew that as the last surviving member of his clan there was certain pressure for him to settle down, but he didn't expect that everyone would ‘demand’ it from him so soon after the war. He still had to atone to his sins, piece together the shattered fragments of his identity and find his place in this broken world. A relationship - let alone a wife and kids - was the last thing on his mind.

Yet it seemed that everywhere he went, the whispers of the 'last eligible Uchiha bachelor' were faster - by the time he entered a village, he was eagerly welcomed by elders who would parade young women before him, as if they were animals for sale.

It was sickening, really. And no matter how bluntly he expressed he is not interested, the people just didn't take the hint.

So if he could kill two rabbits with only one shot, then…

"We are getting married," he informed you on his last night at your village, while getting dressed. It was not a proposal, or even a question - just a simple, straightforward declaration.

He didn't even spare a glance in your direction as he adjusted his clothes, almost as if he didn't pump you full of his seed multiple times through the night. Unlike any other man you've met (and fucked) before, he was always eager to leave after you two were done. He never held you close or whispered sweet nothings into your ear - no, he hated you too much to put all that effort for a single fuck.

"I don't usually go for men with missing limbs," you snickered with that signature infuriating smirk on your face that drove Sasuke wild, "But I guess the good sex and your last name are worth for me to make an exception."

Sasuke only grunted in response, before leaving you alone in your bedroom. How did you manage to get under his skin so effortlessly, he'd never understand.

He was no fool, he knew that if it was any other man - even that short, fat loser who was your village leader (and lover) - you would've turned him down straight away. But he had something he knew you wanted badly and that was the name Uchiha. You were a smart woman and had calculated all the privileges - the power, the influence, the fame - that a union like that could give you. He knew you were not really interested in him, at least not in the way other women were.

You never fawned over him or actively sought his attention. Instead you were treating him with a level of indifference, gracing him your full attentiveness only when you were intimate. And even then you liked to show your bratty side, refusing to submit and leaving him with no other option than manhandling you till you admit surrender. But you never made it easy, that's for sure.

When he brought you back to Konoha, officially as his wife, everyone thought he had lost the last bit of sanity in his head for good.

"This has to be joke..." Sakura muttered as she watched you walk next to Sasuke into the Uchiha compound, the clan symbol proudly decorating the back of your kimono. She didn't want to sound jealous or envious, but you just looked so... not his type. She had always envisioned him with a strong woman - ninja, for sure - who could balance his cold and distant nature by providing him with all the love and warmth he has been deprived for all these years.

But you? You looked nothing like that. Sure, you were pretty, but you were a civilian who couldn't relate to the shinobi's lifestyle. How Sasuke chose you, a foreigner nonetheless, from all of the available women in Konoha was beyond her comprehension.

"I don't think it is, Sakura-chan," Naruto replied from his spot next to her, his eyes unable to move away from the way you swayed your hips while walking next to his best friend. He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn't look at someone else's woman like that, but how could he control himself? He knew he was too weak to resist you the moment Sasuke introduced you to him and Sakura, and your eyes lingered just a second longer on his, before you turned away, a small smirk grazing your lips.

To say that you had quickly became the favourite woman of every person in the village would be an understatement. All of the men, even geniuses like Neji and Shikamaru, seemed to fall under your spell without much effort. Your confidence, combined with your sharp mind and beauty, seemed to draw in everyone like flies to honey much to Sasuke's dismay. Of course, he expected from you to continue to try playing your little games even after bringing you back to the Leaf, but he thought better of his old teammates.

And it wasn't just the men in the village, either. Even the reluctant women who initially questioned your motivations, like Sakura and Ino, soon found themselves drawn to your company, seduced by the idea of not having to shy away from their femininity around you. All their life they have been taught that they have to train and work hard to be considered as something even close to a man's equal - yet, here you were, without any skills or fighting abilities, managing to wrap every single man around your finger and make them inferior to yourself. You were strong in a way that they hadn't considered before - through your confidence, charm, and most importantly, intelligence.

Sasuke was feeling torn by the whole thing. On one hand, he felt like he had failed in his goal to tame you and keep you in control. A year after he made you his wife, he found himself not only unsuccessful, but completely outsmarted and outplayed by you.

On the other hand, for less than half a decade, you managed to achieve what he thought he may not achieve in his whole lifetime. Not only you had carried his twin boys - a result of him bullying all his frustration and annoyance he held toward you into your tight little pussy every chance he got - but you somehow managed to restore the reputation of the Uchiha clan all by yourself. What was once a name connected only to criminals and bloodshed, was now associated with respect, political influence, and a sense of honor. You had restored the pride that Sasuke thought he never may regain again, let alone be given by someone like you.

When you asked him for a divorce one peaceful night during dinner, he thought he has heard you wrong. His mismatched eyes narrowed, as he studied your calm expression. After six years of using his name to climb to the village's higher circles and giving him sons to continue the legacy of the Uchiha clan, you suddenly wanted to leave?

"I think we had this dance for long enough, don't you, husband?"

Your marriage was far from perfect or even socially acceptable, you both knew that. From the very beginning, it was built on mutual benefits rather than love. Sasuke never grew to be a loving husband, at least in the traditional sense of the word, and neither you learned how to play the role of the typical 'caring wife' at home. Yet, after six years together, you somehow managed to fall into a twisted cycle of love desperation and need for each other.

It wasn't the type of relationship that inspired poetry or flowery fairytales. It was raw, obsessive, and painful. There was darkness in both of you, one which you greedily embraced, feeding off each other's flaws, insecurities and unhappiness. Your fights were loud and destructive, as venomous words were aimed at each other's weakest spots. He never missed a chance to remind you of how unlovable you were - a shiny and pretty empty shell that men saw for its beauty, not for its substance. You never held back in holding his past sins over his head, bringing even his own brother as an argument when you found yourself cornered.

"Kinslayer playing house," you would hiss, the edge of your lips turning slightly upward as you notice his eyes darkening, "I wonder what your dear brother would think if he saw you right now."

Furniture would break, plates would fly, and just like every time, you would find yourselves in your shared bed, tangled in the passion and chaos on which you both thrived.

It was toxic, but it was also consuming. Neither of you knew how to break free from these chains, and neither of you really wanted to. It was addicting, it was broken and it was yours.

Till it suddenly wasn't.

When you brought up the divorce, he knew you have calculated the whole thing - the twins were in the room next door and you never fought when your kids were around. If there was one genuine thing that came out from this marriage, it was your two boys Isao and Jiro. They were born a year after you wed and for better or worse, were a perfect mix of both of your personalities.

Isao was the older son - a confident and focused kid, who despite his young age, has already shown impressive skills with ninjutsu and taijutsu. He always looked up to his father, seeking his approval as he pushed himself harder and harder every day. In a lot of ways, he reminded Sasuke of himself - his black eyes were full of determination, as he refused to settle for anything but being the best in everything he did. Yet, unlike his gloomy younger self, Isao possessed a level of charisma that he surely inherited from you.

Everyone loved Isao - and he knew how to use it to his advantage to get what he wanted, even from you.

Jiro on the other hand, preferred to stay in the background and observe, rather than to be in the centre of the attention. He had Sasuke's calm and reserved nature and unlike his brother, he didn't seek anyone's approval or attention. Quite the opposite - he preferred to hold back his true strength, patiently waiting and strategizing for the right moment to unleash it.

"I'm not letting you take my kids away from me," Sasuke promised you that night, his eyes boring into yours as he sat at the other end of the table.

His voice was cold and firm, so different from his usual venomous hiss he uses during arguments with you. But in his mind this wasn't an argument - it was just one of your many silly tantrums, a move inspired by nothing else than the desire to get under his skin.

"I am their mother and their place is with me," you stated seriously without even a hint of the usual mockery which could always be heard when you were speaking to your husband, "You can still see them during weekends - if you are in Konoha and not chasing shadows of threats across the villages, that's it."

Sasuke's jaw tightened, as he slammed his glass down louder than necessary. You didn't even flinch, as you held his gaze which was slowly becoming darker.

"What are you getting at?"

"You know very well I am getting at," you scoffed, the calm and collected composure finally cracking under the heaviness of all unspoken feelings you carried inside your chest, "When was the last time you spend more than a few days with your kids? You're constantly on the road, doing God knows what, while I am left here-"

"Stop bringing the children into this!" he snapped, interrupting you mid-sentence. His voice was low but with a note of irritation, proving to you that he was holding back for the sake of your children next door. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your teeth gritting together while you pressed your back against the chair. There may have been a fire of defiance burning inside of you, but even you knew when to draw the line, especially when he used that voice.

"This is about you, isn't it?" he clicked his tongue, his head shaking from side to side, "About your greediness and unsatisfiable need to suck the life out of everyone around you, before you move on to your next victim. What, did you already exhaust all the benefits you got from carrying the last name Uchiha?"

The room suddenly grew colder, as you stared at each other, his words still lingering in the tense air between you. He was never one to shy from the opportunity to hit you where he knew it hurt the most and in typical Sasuke's style, it was not his final blow either.

"You talk about my failures as a father all the time, but what kind of mother uses her own sons as pawns in her silly power game?"

Your breath hitched in your throat and before you can even think about it, you grabbed the dinner knife on your right and hurled it in his direction, aiming for his head. He dodged it effortlessly, his eyes narrowing as he saw you reaching for your fork next.

"If you are trying to get my head, dear wife," he said almost mockingly, catching the next flaying utensil with his hand before slamming it down on the table next to him, "Have the decency not to do it while the children are next door."

Gripping the edge of the table to stop yourself from throwing your plate next, all you could see in front of your eyes was red. Blinding, raging red, which was threatening to consume you whole.

God, you hated him! You hated him, you despised him and if it was up to you, he would burn in hell for at least a few eternities!

"You are the last person who gets to lecture me on decency," you chuckled dryly, before reaching for your wine glass and swallowing a large gulp, "Did you also talk to your brother about it when he slaughtered your whole family? Or when you killed him?"

Sasuke's expression immediately hardened and his hand clenched into a fist. He has met many infuriating women in his lifetime, but you... you were a monster! A beautiful nightmare that had her claws deep into his soul, chewing and digging into his very core.

"I've told you not to bring up Itachi-"

"Or what?" you leaned forward, one elegant brow raising as you placed your chin on top of your crossed fingers, "What will you do, Sasuke? Divorce me?"

It was clear you were pushing his limits, Sasuke knew you well enough by now to see through your attempts to rile him up. Despite his realisation, however, it was too late - you had already buried your stinger under his skin, poking at his past wounds that never closed. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath while trying to control his nerves.

"I am not giving you a divorce," he said finally, his tone cold, "So stop throwing your tantrum and find other ways to pass your free time, which you seem to have in excess. Perhaps finding a job will do you good."

Sasuke got up from his seat, pushing his plate to the side before exiting the dinner room without casting even a single glance in your direction. You pressed your lips together as you watched him leave, the door closing with a quiet thud behind him. There was a brief silence, before you heard Isao and Jiro's laughter from their room at the end of the corridor. With a sigh, you got up and you started to clear the table.

. . .

Whatever you wanted, you got. Sasuke had seen you going great lengths to achieve what you wanted. Yet, he didn't think you would actually go this far.

As a Shadow Hokage, he was used to spending months away from home, investigating threats made toward Konoha and if necessary, taking all the measures to get rid of them before they can become actual problems. Most of them were coming from rebel groups in neighbouring countries, who were trying to stir another armed conflict between the nations, but sometimes there were unexpected surprises.

One of these surprises was the letter he received one sunny morning by Koyuki, the leader of the Land of Snow. She had warned Konoha about rumours of unnamed groups, who were actively recruiting members to start a new cult against the Land of Fire. Their motivation seemed unclear, but she had provided enough evidence to give both Naruto and Sasuke a reason to worry.

Leaving the same day, he spend three months travelling across the small country, interviewing civilians, chasing trials and collecting evidence before he found out that his whole thing was orchestrated by no one else other than his own wife.

It wasn't the first time he had found himself tangled in one of your schemes. You had not only the influence, but also the connections long before you became an Uchiha. After you got his last name they only intensified and a single word from you was enough to set a whole series of events and tangle dozen of innocent people in them.

The letter from Koyuki should've been the first sign something was going on. After all, he knew that you two did know each other and that she often described herself as "girl's girl", whatever that nonsense meant. And then all the evidence that kept pointing to no one in particular, before he finally realised this was all one carefully crafted deception.

There was no cult, there were no threats and there was certainly no one in the whole country that even cared about Land of Fire, let alone bother to threaten it.

At first, he couldn't understand what was your motivation. Were you doing it to spite him? To make him look like a fool? Obviously you didn't think about about the potential damage on the alliance between the two countries, and even if you did, you simply didn't care.

"I am sorry it came to this," Koyuki said as she was bidding him farewell at the village's gates, "It’s nothing personal. It’s just a favor to an old friend."

A favor.

The word ringed in his mind the whole way back home and Sasuke didn't completely connect the dots till he came back home, only to find the compound empty, a signed divorce pack laying on the table. He didn't waste even a second in flipping through the pages, his jaw tightening as he realised that not only he was your ex-husband now, but that you planned this whole thing to keep him long enough so you can convince the Hokage to sign your request to end your marriage in his absence.

"She said you both have reached an agreement and that you specifically gave your permission for her to deal with all the legal stuff, since you know... you were away for a while," Naruto said carefully once the Uchiha confronted him, his brows furrowing in confusion, "Is there something wrong?"

Sasuke had never pulled the curtain behind your marriage before, the image of your family always being perfectly polished picture of the ideal union in front of the society - a noble warrior with a beautiful influential wife, and two talented sons, both already known as the most promising young ninjas at the Academy. To the world, you and him were the epitome of love and success.

Only the two of you knew the truth and he was determined to keep it that way.

"Nothing wrong other than the fact that the Hokage allowed himself to sign papers affecting my life in my absence," Sasuke said coldly, before laying the report of his mission on the blonde's desk, "Me and Mrs. Uchiha have agreed to hold off any final decision until I returned. You shouldn't have dissolved our marriage."

Naruto's expression faltered for a moment, before his gaze hardened at the sound of his friend’s accusation. He wasn't seeing how he was the bad guy in the whole situation, when you were the one who sought his approval of your divorce petition.

"Sasuke," the Hokage said slowly, his voice suddenly sounding more serious than usual, "I was told by Mrs. Uchiha herself that it was a mutual decision and that it was already settled."

"Are you blaming my wife for your failure to follow the proper administrative procedures?" Sasuke snapped, his eyes narrowing at the man before him. If there is one thing he had learned from you, it was how to always turn the tables in his favour.

"She was alone for months and was probably worried sick if her husband will come back at all," he continued, conveniently missing the fact that it was all you who created this whole situation in the first place, "She was acting under the influence of her distress and worry. You, on the other hand, should've known better."

Naruto sighed, before rubbing one of his hands up and down his face. What was exactly going on between you and Sasuke, he would never understand.

From the outside, you two appeared to have everything one couple could wish for - stable family (or not so much now that your divorce was finalized), money, influence, respect. People looked at you and used you as an example of what they wanted to achieve in the future.

For a long time, Naruto also believed that perfectly crafted image, and deep inside, even resented his friend for building such a life. Of course, he loved Hinata with all his heart, but he couldn't lie and say that the intensity of his job hasn't affected their relationship. There were days when he couldn't even see the eyes of his kids, let alone talk to them or train with them. His wife has always remained patient and understanding, but his guilt had already become a constant in his mind.

And then there was Sasuke.

He was often missing for months on end, yet still managed to return to a happy family back home. His kids were cheerful and obedient, excelling in their training and seemingly never resenting their father's prolonged absences. Meanwhile, you - the beautiful and intelligent civilian wife - held the household together, while single-handedly cleared the Uchiha name of whatever bloodshed had tarnished it in the past.

It was yours and Sasuke's world and everyone else was just living in it.

Yet, the more he interacted with either of you, the more he could see how different and toxic you were for each other. He had no doubt you held some type of love for each other, but it was far from the gentle and nurturing kind he and Hinata had. Yours was raw, obsessive, sometimes even cruel.

He had seen the subtle cracks in your act before. Sasuke, with his silent obsession to control you, monitoring every single step you made. Who were you talking to, what were you wearing, when did you eat, how often have you left the house - he knew everything, even when he was miles away. He has abused his position before by having shinobi watching over you, reporting every detail of your daily life to him. Naruto knew about it, but at the time he was just excusing it as Sasuke being overprotective.

The longer it continued, however, the more distant you became. Sasuke had slowly cut off your ties with everyone he deemed an unnecessary connection - including many of his old friends - reducing everyone close to you to mere acquittances.

Yet, you remained defiant. There was a challenge in everything you did - from the way you liked to oppose him in public to the way you bribed the shinobi around your house so they would spare your ex-spouse some of the details of your daily life. You liked getting under his skin and, unlike many other women would, seemed to enjoy playing with his possessiveness. Sometimes your gaze would linger just a second longer on other men, while gracing them with a flirty joke or a seductive smile, before you turn toward Sasuke to check his reaction.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Naruto, his voice laced with frustration as he stared at his old friend. He already messed up by taking your word for the divorce agreement and signing the documents in Sasuke's absence, he wasn't sure he wanted to involve himself even more in whatever game you two were playing.

"You already did enough," the Uchiha scoffed, turning away and starting to walk toward the door, "Just keep your nose out of my and my wife's business. I will take care of this mess."

. . .

During the months following the divorce, Sasuke was more of a husband to you than he has been for the whole six years you were married.

It was ironic, really. After years of him devoting himself completely to the village, he had now taken "indefinite break" because he wanted to "spend time with his family". The first time you heard this rumour you scoffed, unable to believe that Sasuke would actually let go of his relentless pursuit of redemption, let alone because of his ex-wife and kids. However, you were proven wrong the moment Isao and Jiro came back from the Academy one day, all happy and smiling because "Dad said we are moving back home".

You have been underestimating him, it seemed. You always knew Sasuke Uchiha was a man who was persistent in chasing his goals, yet you always seen his idea of honour and moral as weaknesses - flaws that held him back, instead of push him forward. Not that you lacked any, of course, but your approach has always been a bit more... flexible. You weren't afraid to bend a few moral principles if it meant gaining the upper hand.

But your ex-husband was a completely different man from the one you had married six years ago. And for the first time since you met, it was him that was always one step ahead of you.

It started with the children first. Isao and Jiro have always looked up to their father, eager to prove themselves as worthy Uchiha in his eyes. Deep down, however, they were momma's boys. Maybe because Sasuke was absent so frequently and for so long, or maybe because it was just a natural bond, the one between a mother and her sons.

With Sasuke stepping back from his shinobi duties, however, the balance had shifted. He started to be the one to take them to school and pick them up in the afternoon; he spend at least a few hours every afternoon training each one; he took them on day trips across the Land of Fire on weekends. Suddenly he was not just an absent figure of admiration in their life - instead, he was an active father, a hero, a mentor.

Then, he used that newly created bond to pull you back to your old home. At first, it was one day per week "for the boys' sake". Then it was every weekend, because "the kids deserved some sense of normality". Soon, your "new normal" was to spend almost every night back in the Uchiha compound, the casual dinners stretching into overnight stays. It wasn't till Isao and Jiro informed you that Sasuke has told them you three are moving back "home" that you realized how quickly and effectively he managed to push himself back into your life.

He had finally cracked the key to make you submit - while you were quick to dismiss and say 'no' to him, you were powerless when it was your children pleading with you.

"Ironic how you were the one accusing me of using my own sons as pawns once, yet here you are, doing exactly that," you muttered one evening, while cutting vegetables for dinner. While Sasuke was decent enough to provide you with your own house in the compound, between the boys constantly asking for family dinners and your ex-husband orchestrating late night activities for them to bond, you spend the majority of your time in the main house.

Sasuke, who was seated at the kitchen table, looked up from the scroll he was reading, his dark eyes boring into the back of your head.

"Isao and Jiro deserve to have a normal family," he said calmly, ignoring the loud snort that left your lips after he said those words. You casted a side glance at him, one of your brows raising in mock disbelief.

When you didn't receive an answer, you decided that maybe, just maybe, you needed to take it a little bit further.

"I am not going to be here for dinner tonight."

No answer.

"I have a date."

Sasuke's hand stilled and he lowered the scroll once again, his eyes closing. He knew your games by now, he knew it was not beyond you to use other males' attention as a tool to test his patience, yet he couldn't help but feel his stomach twist at the idea of you going out with another man.

"With who?" he asked after a minute of silence, making you smirk to yourself. Ah, there it was - the little crack in his stoic armor that you have been searching for! No matter how much he liked to pretend he hates you or doesn't care about you, the good old trick of bringing a another man into the conversation always worked.

"Oh, you don't know him," you replied casually, sliding the chopped vegetables into the pot and make a few stirs with the wooden spoon, "He is not a shinobi. A kind man, attentive and gentle... with two arms. Everything you are not, really."

A loud scoff left his lips and you turned around to face him, the wooden spoon dangling from your left hand. Sasuke looked at you with furrowed brows, his hand slowly starting to roll the scroll back.

"Doesn't seem you type," he observed, his head finally lifting in your direction. He didn't look half as bothered as you expected, yet you noticed the faintest flicker of annoyance bubbling right under the surface.

You needed to push just a liiiittlleeeee bit more.

"Oh, he is exactly my type!" you grinned at your ex-husband, before crossing your arms in front of your chest, "Still wondering how did I get so lucky!"

Surprisingly your words seemed to humor him and he let out a dry chuckle, while standing up from his seat. You watched him come closer, and you could feel your breath hitching as you saw his hand reaching toward your face.

But right when you thought he was about to cup your cheek, he reached to the small bowl on the shelf behind you and grabbed an apple.

"I think the real question is how did he get so unlucky," he smirked at you before taking a bite.

The AUDACITY of this man!

"Glad to know your sense of humour is just as nonexistent as it was before," you rolled your eyes at him, before turning around to stir your soup. Despite your attempt to pretend his closeness did not affect you, he could notice the small blush on the tip of your ears and the sudden stiffness in your shoulders.

"I am not joking," he calmly chewed his apple, his eyes trained on the side of your face, "He must be quite the loser to go after a woman who is still living with her husband and kids."

You grimaced at his words, your head turning to the side as you challenged him with a glare. If looks could kill, he would've been long gone by now.

"Ex-husband", you corrected him, your jaw clenching as you caught the slightest twitch of his lips upward, "I know you were too busy to attend the divorce hearing with the Hokage, but-"

"I was not busy!" he suddenly interrupted you, his expression becoming serious, "I was away because you orchestrated a whole false cult, which put our alliance with the Land of Snow at risk, just so you can keep me away for long enough to lie to Naruto and get him to sign your petition."

There was a brief silence during which you narrowed your eyes at him, before you shrugged your shoulders.

"I told you I want a divorce."

"And I told you, I am not going to give you one."

His words made you pause, the spoon still held tight by your right hand while you were clutching your apron with your left. You gave a few more stirs to your soup, before setting the utensil down and turning fully toward him.

"I always get what I want," you smiled sweetly, before reaching for his face. Just like you did before, he seemed to freeze for a few seconds, completely thrown off by your gesture. Just when he thought your fingers may brush against his skin, you snatched the apple from his hands, a victorious smirk on your face.

"I thought you knew that by now."

. . .

It wasn't everyday that a man had the chance to take out a beautiful woman out for a dinner, and such an occasion deserved special preparation.

When your date came to pick you up, he made sure to wear his nicest clothes, put his most expensive cologne and buy the biggest bouquet at the flower shop. He lifted his hand against the massive wooden door, nervously checking that he was right on time, before knocking a few times. The door creaked open, but the view that met him on the other side was not one he expected.

"Uh... hi!" he stammered, his cheeks becoming a light shade of pink as the dark-haired man before him stared at him blankly. A few minutes of silence passed, during which Sasuke looked him up and down, before he raised a dark brow.

"Are you lost?" your ex-husband asked impatiently. So far the only true characteristic from your description earlier is the fact the man had two arms. But handsome? Pffttt.

The man blinked rapidly before clearing his throat a bit. Of course, he found it strange that you told him to pick you up from the Uchiha compound, as you were not with Sasuke anymore, but he assumed you got the house during the divorce proceeding. He didn’t think you lived together.

"No, no! I am here to pick up-"

"My wife?" Sasuke interrupted, his expression bored. He had to bite back a smirk as he looked at your date chuckling nervously, before scratching the back of his head. It was as clear as day that you did all this to get him jealous, but honestly you could do so much better than this idiot.

"Your ex-wife" the man furrowed his brows, mentally praying to all deities he could think of, that you did not in fact get back together with the Uchiha. Not that he blamed you - if he was a woman, he wouldn't let go of him in the first place. You had not told him much about your marriage or why you separated, but it was clear that whatever dynamic you had going on was way more complicated than he first thought. He had heard rumours in town that Sasuke still referred to you as Mrs. Uchiha and while you pretended you have not noticed, the Uchiha crest was still proudly decorating the back of all of your kimonos.

Sasuke let his lips curve in a small smirk, as he leaned against the doorframe.

"You got the wrong door," he finally said, nodding his head toward the rest of the compound, where a numerous small houses were standing, separated by tight dark alleys, "Mrs. Uchiha lives further down in the compound."

"Oh?", your date exclaimed, his face twisted in something between confusion and reluctance, "Well, I am sorry to bother you then-"

"Follow me," Sasuke suddenly said, completely ignoring what the other man was about to say, before stepping out of the house and walking down the stairs. Your date hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking between your ex-husband and the now closed door, before reluctantly decided to follow.

"I am sorry if this is awkward-"

"Loose your tie a bit, you look like you are going to choke," Sasuke interrupted once again, his eyes trained on the dark path in front of him as he didn't even glance in the other male's direction, "And uncuff your trousers! It is ridiculous for a man your age to come to pick up a woman like my wife wearing socks with printed ducks on them."

Your date flushed red, as he hurried to loose his tie and fix the bottom of his pants, while Sasuke continued to walk toward the house where you were supposedly staying. For a moment your admirer wondered if this was not just one big ploy by your husband... ex-husband to get him alone and get rid of him. As he saw the shadow of your figure passing by one of the windows in the distance, however, he relaxed.

It was all fine. It was all going to be fine-

"Wait here," Sasuke instructed as they both reached the door, before reaching for the handle. Before the man can even open his mouth to reply, Sasuke slipped inside and shut the door right under his nose.

As you heard the door opening and closing, you came downstairs to the living room, where your ex-husband was standing with his hand on his waist. His eyes widened just the tiniest bit as they landed on your descending figure, his gaze slowly running from your hair, lifted in a straight high ponytail, to your chest where a gold metallic corset was pushing your breasts forward, showing just enough skin to wake up the imagination. The white fabric of your dress fell down in gentle folds, the high slits that run up each leg, offering a glimpse of your smooth skin with each step that you took.

Ethereal. Powerful. His.

If Sasuke had to describe with only a few words, it would be exactly these.

"Can I help you?" your voice brought Sasuke back to reality and he cleared his throat, his face immediately falling into its usual stoic expression. You smirked as you noticed the apple of his cheeks becoming a slight shade of red, the idea of still having that effect on him after years tickling your sensitive ego.

"Your date is here," he said blankly, his jaw clenching as he tried hard not to let his eyes wander down once again. Damn you, damn you, damn you! When did you even got that dress? Sasuke was pretty sure he knew each piece of clothing in your wardrobe and yet he has never seen this one. There was no doubt in his mind that you didn't do all this for the awkward loser outside, you did this for him.

"Alright," you hummed, leaning your head to the side as you fixed one of your earrings, "And why are you here? You could've just send him down, you didn't have to play the role of a tour guide."

And of course your big mouth just had to shatter whatever fantasy was swirling in Sasuke's head as he was still staring at you. He rolled his eyes, a quiet scoff escaping his lips.

"If I didn't show him where you are, he would've been doing circles around the compound all night," he gave you a funny look, as he lifted a brow, "Really? You said he is the "whole package" - kind, smart, handsome, ... so far the only true thing turned out to be that he indeed have all his limbs."

You clicked your tongue as you moved toward the large mirror in the corner of the living room, completely ignoring your ex-husband who watched each one of yours steps like a predator ready to pounce on his prey any second now.

"Oh, don't be so harsh!" you glanced over your shoulder so you can give him a small smirk, "He can be polished here and there, but he still has his charm."

He let out a small chuckle, as he started to make slow, deliberate steps in your direction.

"He came to pick you up wearing socks with ducks..."

You lifted a brow, your mischievous gaze meeting Sasuke's through the reflection of the mirror.

"Oh? I didn't know that they did socks with your face on them, let alone that he is a fan."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed at your childish jab, before his features twisted in amusement. Since you saw that one childhood photo with Team 7 years ago, you just couldn't let his old hairstyle go. While he usually would scoff or roll his eyes at your antics, now he held your gaze firmly as he closed the remaining distance between you, his chest pressing against your upper back.

"You have always been one hell of a woman...," he muttered, his breath tickling the back of your neck. Your breathing increased slightly as you watched him lean over your shoulder, the playful tension that was filling the room till now quickly turning into something else.

"Do you think he can handle you?" Sasuke continued, the side of his face pressing against yours as he continued to stare right into your soul. His hand made its way toward your waist, harshly pulling you back against him till you could feel the print of his hardness right against your bottom. You let out a short gasp, instinctively leaning back against him.

"Do you think he can keep up with your little games? To match your fire, your temper..."

His hand moved lower, the tips of his rough fingers grazing the bit of visible skin there causing another shaky breath to leave your lips. It was embarrassing, how wet and bothered he managed to get you just with a single stare and a few words. The lacy underwear you have been wearing was already soaked, sticking to your puffy lips as you tried to rub your thighs together before Sasuke dug his fingers in your skin, stilling you in place.

"You're so dirty," he laughs quietly, his chapped lips grazing the tip of your ear, before landing a small kiss right behind it, "Was that your plan all along? To bring a naive fool to our home, so I can fuck some brains into you? Remind you that you belong to me?"

The blissful state your mind was in was shattered to pieces as he reminded you about your date. Shit, he was right in front of the door! As if he somehow read your mind, just second later there was an urgent knock on the door.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

Your eyes widened and you tried to push your ex-husband's hand away from you, which made him only grip you tighter. His hips buckled against you and you bit your lip, holding back a groan.

"Tell him you are going to be a minute," Sasuke instructed against your ear, his lips slowly kissing their way down to your shoulder, "Don't send him away... yet."

There was a hint of darkness in his tone and this was your first sign that you should do anything but what he is telling you. As his hand slipped through the slit of your dress and between you thighs, however, you couldn't even form a single thought in your brain, let alone follow it.

"I will be a.. ah!... minute," you called out, your voice shaking as you felt your ex-husband dragging his fingers against your laced pussy, collecting the juices that were now freely flowing through the thin material, "I am just about to be... ready."

Sasuke couldn't help but smile triumphally not only at the fact that you did exactly what he told you, but that no matter how much you said you hated him and how many stunts you pulled against him, you could still crumble in his hand with him barely doing anything.

He grazed your soaked pussy, avoiding the bundle of nerves that you desperately tried to get him to touch by wriggling your hips left and right. It was laughable, really - you always talked back to him, you always liked to oppose... yet in moments like now, there was nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving your lips.

"Sasuke," you groaned in a hushed town, earing nothing but a low chuckle from your ex-husband. The pads of his ring and middle finger circled your entrance, his smirk becoming bigger as he could feel your soaked panties basically clutching to your lips now.

"What is it, my wife?" he dragged the last word down, his mouth latching against the sensitive skin on the side of your neck. Your head fell back against his shoulder, both of your hands now gripping his muscular forearm as he finally pushed your panties to the side. As he reached for your clit, gently rolling the little pearl against his thumb and forefinger, you let out a loud moan, unable to hold back anymore. Your knees buckled and you pressed your ass and back firmly against him, seeking any type of steadiness before you fall to the floor.

"What do you want, hm?" Sasuke muttered, his eyes moving back to the mirror so he could observe your fucked out expression - eyes shut tightly; glossy lips open in the prettiest 'o' shape; red colours spreading from your cheeks all down your neck... Fuck, you were a handful, but for this sight he was ready to take anything you threw his way - from insults to your poor attempts to make him jealous.

"Sasuke, you know what I want," you whined again, your head rolling against his shoulder till you found yourself face to face with him, "Just give it to me."

In any other situation he would've made you wait longer - after all you had been giving him nothing but headaches in the past few months. But as he looked down at you, his pretty wife, who was practically asking him to take her once again, to reclaim her as fully his... How could he say 'no'?

Spreading your glistering puffy lips apart, he collected some of your arousal, before roughly burying two fingers inside. You immediately fall forward, your hands gripping the sides of the mirror, as Sasuke immediately start pumping his digits in a rough pace. It's not hurtful - you are so wet, you are pretty sure you could even take his dick without any preparation - yet he couldn't mask the slight smugness he felt once he felt how tight you were. A clear sign you haven’t been with another man since him.

“Ah-Sas-..Sasuke!” you panted as his fingers brushed that one spongy spot inside of you that was making you see stars. The room was filled with your gasps and the slick sound of his hand rhythmically moving in and out of you, so loud that Sasuke was sure that the poor fool outside was hearing just as clearly.

As he felt the slight shiver of your thighs he roughly pulled his fingers out, before landing a loud slap on your quivering pussy. You gasped, your eyes immediately opening wide so you can glare at your ex-husband.

"Arrogant prick!" you thought as turned to face him but before you could say the words out loud, he wrapped his hand around your forearm before roughly pulling you toward the door.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, your eyes widening as your stumbled after him. You expected the jealousy, but making you open the door in the dishevelled state you were in was just cruel. Sasuke didn't answer, but just as you thought he would open the door and force you to face your poor date, he turned you around and slammed your back against it.

"Hello? Is everything okay in there?" your date's voice sounded and Sasuke couldn't help but roll his eyes. There is no way that idiot did not hear your whimpers of pleasure and especially the sound of your drenched pussy sucking your ex-husband's fingers in an out, why was he still here? He was either deaf or really, really ignorant.

Either way, Sasuke was determined to show him who you belong to. Or even better, he was determined to make you show him.

"Everything is fine... I will be a minute," you called out, your eyes focused on the mismatched ones of your lover - fuck, ex-lover.

Damn you, Sasuke Uchiha!

Deep down whatever consciousness you had left was quietly whispering that you should feel bad. That you actually genuinely liked the man on the other side of the door and, for once, you wanted to experience love. Real one, gentle... like the ones of all the other couples you keep seeing on the streets. Without the fighting, without the hatred, without the constant pain and hurt.

Yet as you stared at Sasuke, you felt yourself being consumed once again by the fire that has always burned between you. It was maddening and reckless to go back into the same cycle, the one that felt more like a battle rather than war.

"You are unbelievable!" you groaned quietly, your teeth gritting against each other, "Why can't you just let go? I don't want you anymore! I want something normal, something that doesn't hurt all the time!"

Sasuke's expression darkened and he narrowed his eyes while studying you. He remained silent for a minute and you thought that he may finally back off, but instead he stepped even closer, trapping you between his muscular chest and the door. His hand moved to cradle your jaw, while his head leaned forward.

"You can keep repeating the same lie over and over," he muttered, his lips barely brushing against yours, "But you know that is not who you are. It's not who we are."

A small sigh left past your lips and Sasuke used it as sign to close the little distance between you. You and him have been intimate thousands of times before, but your shared kisses can be counted on the fingers of your one hand. Maybe because kisses were usually saved for lovers, the one that shared the sweet and kind type of love, rather than the raw and brutal one you had between you. Or maybe they have always been too intimate, a confession that neither of you were ready to make till now.

Unlike other times this kiss was not just a peck or a battle of dominance. It was slow and deep, an act which was supposed to show everything that both of you couldn't put into words. As he licked your bottom lip, you opened your mouth to welcome his tongue in it - an opportunity which he eagerly took, pressing you harder against the door with his body. His hand roamed between your waist and your thighs, before he reached for your chest, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing roughly.

"Ah, Sasuke!" you gasped your head falling back, as his lips moved down your neck, softly sucking and biting the sensitive skin there. While there was a certain roughness to his moves, he was still way gentler than usual, making you rub your thighs together in a weak attempt to get some friction. He must've saw that because a second later, he roughly pushed his own leg between yours, preventing you from getting any type of relief.

You opened your eyes just enough to send him a glare but closed them once again as you felt his fingers swiftly untying the top of your corset, before pulling your breasts out and pinching your left nipple. Sasuke could barely hold back a smirk, as you watched your back arch forward, seeking even closer contact with him.

As he moved down your body, placing damp kiss down your collarbone, chest and side of your breast, his hand found it's way under your dress once again. He started to draw small circles on your swollen clit, as his lips wrapped around your other nipple and before you could sink your teeth in your lip, you made the loudest, most pornographic moan both Sasuke and your date have ever heard.

A few moves were enough for your legs to start trembling once again, the knot from your previous denied orgasm forming once again at the pit of your stomach. You opened your eyelids as you looked down at Sasuke, who was still kissing, sucking and biting your breasts, leaving his marks all over the soft skin.

"Sasuke...," you mumbled, your hips buckling as he slipped two of his fingers inside, his thumb increasing its pace on your clit. Suddenly everything felt overwhelming - the image of your ex-husband in front of you, the sound of your date who was now eagerly knocking on the door behind you, mumbling something about how all the Uchihas can go to hell, the light above you which was suddenly shining brighter the closer you were getting to the edge.

"Come for me," Sasuke muttered against the plush skin of your boob, the harsh bite that followed enough to make the knot inside of you snap. Your fingers pulled his black locks earing a small hiss from him, finally freeing your chest from his lips.

He held you close to him as you slowly came back to your senses, your body limp in his arms. The knocking on the door behind you had stopped long ago, the memory of your date swearing and throwing the flowers he had brought against the window next to you now echoing at the back of your mind. Before you had the time to think about him, however, your ex-husband fell to his knees, his hand lifting one of your legs on his shoulder as he lifted your dress above your hips.

Sasuke had felt the lacy material under his fingers earlier, but as he was now looking at the type of underwear you had chosen to go out on a date with another man, he felt the earlier jealousy coming back to his chest. White lacy panties, which were now drenched with both your arousal and the juices from your release, with a white bow on the front... really?

"Were you planning to let him fuck you?", he asked annoyed, his forehead creasing as he glanced up at you. A bright red colour covered your cheeks, but you turned to the side, refusing to answer.

Were you? Sure, maybe the thought had crossed your mind and maybe this is exactly why you choose these panties. But deep down, you knew that even if you went on that date and let him bring you back to his house, you would've probably backed out in the last minute.

No one can handle you the way Sasuke can.

"Answer!" Sasuke snapped impatiently, his fingers pinching your swollen and oversensitive clit through your panties. You quickly shook your head, your hands burying themselves in his silky hair once again so you can pull his head away just enough to see his eyes.

"Of course not!" you said and Sasuke rolled his eyes, half-expecting for you to deny the truth anyway. If he wasn't face to face to your drenched cunt, the aroma of your juices fogging his mind with only one thought - that he needed to have you - he would've probably told you off. But even if he was one of the most powerful men on the planet, he was still just a man - and with this ethereal sight in front of hem, he could do no more than remain on his knees and worship you the way you deserved to be worshiped.

With one harsh move, your panties pooled down your ankles while your ex-husband buried his head between your legs. Sasuke always prided himself to be a man of self-control and discipline, yet the moment he got to taste you, he forgot any of that.

Heavy puffs of air mixed with loud moans, as he latched his slightly chapped lips on your clit, sucking harshly before lightly flicking the tip of his tongue against it. Your hands harshly gripped his hair, making an attempt to push him away from your oversensitive folds, which were met with a rough slap against the inside of your thight.

"Hold still, brat," he mumbled as his tongue buried itself inside of you, his nose rubbing against your shiny pearl. You wanted to snap at him, tell him he knows how much you hate when he calls you that, but your body could do nothing else than to buckle against his face, your eyelids shutting down so tightly, bursts of rainbow colours infiltrated your closed vision.

He could feel your walls tightening around his tongue, more of your sweet nectar flowing from your pussy as he hungrily drank everything you gave him. Sasuke was rarely so desperate and open, completely giving up control as he made a mess out of both of you.

"Sasuke, please-," you tried to beg, an usual softness filling your voice as you sought mercy from him. And while his pants were getting uncomfortably tight, he wanted to teach you a lesson, to show you that you are his and his only. You deserved no mercy.

Not after all your little stunts recently.

Sasuke could feel his tip leaking pre-cum just from all the sweet sounds you made, encouraging him to only start lapping at your puffy lips faster and faster, his fingers digging themselves into your soft thigh as you tried to pull away and push yourself closer at the same time.

"One more," he whispered into your pussy, his lips and chin dripping with your arousal, "I know you can give me one more."

You whimpered in response, your head falling back as he pulled a second orgasm out of you, slurping all of your juices without pulling away even for a second to breathe.

His erratic movements soon turned into sloppy licks as he cleaned you up, his tongue catching every single drop of your release. You twitched in his grasp, weakly pushing him away, the feeling of his mouth too much for your oversensitive pussy right now.

Sasuke slowly lowered your leg from his shoulder back on the ground, his arm tightly gripping the side of your hip as he tried to stabilize your quivering form.

"You came only twice and you are already shaking like a leaf," he noted with a smirk, before standing up back to his feet. Blinking a few times, you tried to ground yourself back to reality, before your arms found their way around his neck, leaning your full weight against him.

"Gosh, just shut up!" you mumbled, not wanting to break out from your euphoric state just to deal with the annoying ramblings of your ex-husband. He clicked his tongue, his hand moving to your lower back and pressing you flush against him.

For the first time in all the years you have known each other, you stood in each other's embrace without the weight of anger, hate or pride threatening to crush you. There was no shouting, no flying objects, no painful insults - just you, holding each other and silently admitting that neither of you wanted normal.

You craved chaos. You craved the intensity, the frustration, the pain, the longing.

You craved him.

Pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes searches his mismatched ones for something - anger, hesitation, adoration, anything. You wanted... you didn't even know what you wanted either. Maybe some clarity, maybe a sign that it doesn't always have to be this messy, this hurtful and this complicated.

All you were met with was the same dark gaze that he always had when he laid his eyes on you. It was never loving or soft, not in the way that he was looking at your children, for example. With you they were always holding a storm of emotions behind them, one which you could never fully decipher.

Desire? Regret? Irritation? Admiration? Pride? Hate?

They were all there, clashing and mixing in such a way that you were never sure if he was looking at you like you were his biggest regret in life or like he couldn't bear the thought of you being anywhere else but by his side.

Hesitantly, you lifted yourself on your toes and pressed your lips against him. It was a gentle peck, unlike your kiss earlier. Sasuke stiffened for a moment, his eyes widening at the unexpected softness from you. Was this another one of your games? But before he could think more about it, you grabbed his hand and started to pull him back into the house and up the stairs to your bedroom.

Sasuke followed you almost instinctively, a certain cautiousness to his steps. He watched you open the door, before you gently pushed him in till the back of his knees hit the bed and he reluctantly sat down. His eyes twitched as you stood before his open legs, expertly undoing the rest of your corset before throwing it to the side. Your hands then slowly pushed the straps of your dress down, allowing it to fall down at your ankles, leaving you completely bare in front of him.

"What are you doing?" he asked sharply as he watched you climb up his lap. Despite his hostility, however, he didn't push you away. Instead his eyes bore into yours, studying you and trying to understand the underlying motive of your actions.

You were never this... soft. Not with him, anyway. Your sex life was a mirror of your relationship - urgent, rough, fast. You never made love - you fucked. It often felt like a battle of dominance, rather than a union between your bodies.

Now, however, you were taking your time. Your forehead gently pressed against his, as your hand started to slowly unbutton his shirt, before sliding it down his muscular shoulders. You have seen his body countless of times before, but this time it felt different. There was no other light other than the bright moonlight coming through the window, as you dragged your fingers across the numerous healed scars across his skin. It was such a stark contrast - the softness of your hands, ones that never even held a weapon, against the roughness of his body, one built for battles and war.

His breath hitched as he felt one of your hands slide down the shoulder of his missing arm and he involuntarily twitched away, almost as if he was trying to hide it away from you. His reaction was not surprising - he always tried to hide the imperfect parts of himself, his Rinnegan and his missing arm, either by using the solace of the darkness or by having you in such positions that your back would be facing his naked form.

In this moment there was nowhere to hide. And Sasuke wasn't sure he liked that.

"Don't," he said, his voice rough, "I swear, if this is one of your games-"

Another unexpected peck on his lips interrupted his train of thoughts as you continued your exploration of his body. It was weird not only for him, but also for you - he never let you in like that, not when he was completely exposed and vulnerable. It felt like you explored him for the first time, and in a way, you actually were. No walls, no layers of hate and tension between you.

"Shh...," you whispered, your breath ghosting across his skin, "I am not going to hurt you."

Sasuke wanted to scoff at your words. There was no reality or place in time where the two of you didn't hurt each other. Neither of you knew how to stop. Pain was part of who you were and as twisted as it was, it was at the core of your love for each other.

His muscles tensed as your hands slid down his abs and started to work on the strings of his pants. His hand instinctively shot out to catch your wrist, stopping your mid-way of unzipping his pants, as his breathing became heavier. He locked his eyes on you, searching for a sign, any sign that you were just playing him - either a small smirk or a mischievous spark in your eyes - yet there were none.

The look in your eyes was one of a lover, not an enemy.

Loosening his grip on your wrist, he watched you as you pulled his zipper down before he lifted his hips so you can slide down his pants. Your lips found their way to his neck, pressing soft kisses against his warm skin as you slowly trained downward. He let out a shaky breath as he felt you kissing his scars, spending extra time on the ones on his chest and abdomen before you slid down on your knees in front of him.

In the past, you have always refused to pleasure him orally. "It's something that only lovers do", you would say with a frown, drawing a clear boundaries of what you were willing to do in the bedroom. Sasuke never pushed for it, either - one thing about him is that no matter how dominant or controlling he was, he respected your wishes. As someone who wasn't particularly needy or with a high libido, he didn't care that much.

But as he watched you grab his rock hard cock in your hand, slowly rubbing your thumb across the tip and smearing the leaking pre-cum, he wondered if he actually didn't care or if he just never knew what he was missing. The sigh before him - his beautiful, defiant wife sitting on her knees and slowly pumping his dick, while placing soft kisses across his thighs - was one that has only appeared once or twice in his dreams before.

Your pace was slow, almost painful as you moved closer and closer to where he was needing you the most, your eyes shifting toward his face every few seconds in order to catch each one of his reactions. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed loudly, a pink colour covering his pale cheeks and neck. His eyes bore into yours, a barely addible moan leaving his lips once you finally wrap your lips around his pink mushroom tip.

Digging one of your hands in his thigh, you take more of him, slowly moving your head back and forth while coating his dick in a mix of your spit and his pre-cum. Sasuke groans once he feels him reaching the back of your throat and his hand instinctively goes to your head, gripping your ponytail as he tried to ground himself and not cum right then and there.

If there was heaven, this had to be it. And maybe he was there, because in what world would his ex-wife suck him off on an evening she was supposed to be out with someone else? You looked up at him through your lashes as you hollowed your cheeks, a new wave of pleasure washing over your body as you saw him closing his eyes.

"Fuck...," he breathed out, a thin layer of sweat starting to form on the top of his forehead, "My wife... just like that.."

His words only seemed to encourage you and you hummed around him, the vibrations making him buck his hips involuntarily. As you started to move faster, his grip on your hair tightened and your hand trailed down back between your legs where your pussy was clenching around nothing.

You pulled away slightly, twirling your tongue over his slit before sliding it down all the way down to his balls. You laid a few small kisses on each one, before taking his left one in your mouth and sucking harshly, earning yourself a sharp gasp from him. It was almost intoxicating, having so much power over a man, who had spend years trying to make you submit to him.

As you took his cock in your mouth again, you put even more effort in trying to bring him closer to the edge. Burying your face against his h pelvis, you flattened your tongue as you felt his head brushing at the back of your throat. Shiny tears started to roll down your cheeks and you gagged around his fat length, the need to pull away to take a breath burning your lungs, yet you didn't stop.

"Ah.. I'm.. close...," he breathed out and you could see his chest starting to move rapidly up and down, as his hold on your head tightened. Once you started to feel him pulsating, however, you pulled out with a loud 'pop', grinning once he gives you a nasty glare.

"What the actual fuck?" he snaps, his brain still foggy with the need to cum, "Are you serious?"

You only roll your eyes in response to your ex-husband's dramatic reaction, before you stood up and made your way back on top of him Resting your hands on his chest, you pushed him down till he was laying flat on his back and you hovered your dripping cunt over his pulsating cock.

Whatever other complaint he was ready to give quickly died in his throat as the moonlight exposed your full beauty in front of him - makeup smeared across your cheeks, fat tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes, pussy glistering in the juices of your own arousal. It was a messy sight - filthy, even - and a perfect representation of your love for each other.

"I need you inside of me," you gasp, your thighs trembling as you brush your swollen clit against his tip, "I need to -ah! I need to feel you!"

You didn't wait for a response as you grabbed his cock and the base and aligned it with your entrance, before slowly sinking in. Your eyes remained locked on his and almost in unison, a loud moan left both of your lips.

"Fuck..," you whimpered, your walls involuntarily tightening around Sasuke's dick as you adjusted to his length. His mouth and fingers could make you see stars, but nothing could even remotely compare to the feeling of having him inside of you. It felt like you were made for each other, his thickness stretching you out just enough for the pain to be pleasurable.

As you started to slowly move up and down, Sasuke gripped the side of your waist helping your keep a steady rhythm. His teeth sank in his bottom lip as his moved down and focused to where the two of you connected.

You let out a loud yelp when he suddenly landed a heavy slap on one of your plush ass cheeks, digging his fingers into its softness. He could feel your juices leaking all over his thighs, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming louder as your moves become faster.

"Good girl," he muttered, his feet planting firmly on the bed so he can start thrusting up. He did try to entertain the idea of giving you control at least for one night, he really did, but fuck - how could he, when you looked so divine above him?

The new angle allowed for his cock to hit straight into that one sensitive spot inside you and you suddenly lost balance, collapsing on top of his chest as his hand moved toward the back of your head, keeping you down so he can hit that same spot over and over again.

"Sas-ah!" you whined, your nails digging into his hard chest, leaving angry red marks after themselves. Sasuke could only smirk, his heavy breath tickling the side of your face as he picked up the pace.

"What's wrong?" he teased, his hand yanking your head back by your hear so he can inspect your face, "Did you get tired already?"

Opening your eyes, you let out a few tears fall freely down your cheeks as you glared down at him. The mix of pleasure and pain was clouding your mind and you could do nothing but moan helplessly as he roughly fucked you, completely disregarding the sensual and gentle tone you tried to settle earlier.

As you started clenching around him, the first sign that you were approaching yet another orgasm, Sasuke swiftly turned you around, laying you under him as he hovered over you, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance, yet not entering fully.

"Sasuke," you whined, trying to move yourself down so he can fill the burning emptiness inside of you, "C'mon, don't stop now!"

Sasuke only smirked at your words before grabbing his cock, sliding it up and down your pussy lips, before flicking your aching clit with his head. You let out a small moan, the oversensitivity causing your cunt to clench around nothing.

"Beg for it."

No amount of pleasure could cloud your mind enough for such words to slip by without your eyes immediately widening. Was he serious? As you watched him looking at you with that small annoying smile on his lips, you tried your best to avoid the aching need between your legs as you snorted loudly in response.

"I rather die needy and unsatisfied," you huffed, your brows furrowing as a small crease appeared in the middle of your sweaty forehead, "Than to beg my douchebag ex-husband to fuck me."

Your words seemed to humour him as he pushed the tip in, earning a small gasp from you before withdrawing again, his hand slowly pumping his cock as he watched you wriggling beneath him.

"What happened to "I am not going to hurt you"?" he tilted his head to the side, "I thought that included insults and your usual low blows as well."

You rolled your eyes, frustration mixing with annoyance as he continued to stroke himself in front of you, completely ignoring the fact you were dripping with need to be touched by him.

"Since when you are such a rambler?" you snapped, a loud huff escaping your lips as you started to lift yourself on your elbows, "If I knew you would waste my night like this, I would've just spend it with my date inste-"

Your sentence was cut off short as he suddenly wrapped his hand around your throat, pressing you back into the pillow as he entered you with one move. He was not gentle or careful - his dick slid all the way in, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he dug his nails into your neck.

"Shut up!" he hissed, as his pace increased even more from before. Your legs dangled weakly around his hips, as you shut your eyes, the all familiar knot starting to form inside of your stomach once again. His pace was brutal, almost animalistic, as the headboard of the bed was hitting against the wall with a rhythmic thump! thump! thump!.

"You always have to open your big mouth, don't you?" he panted, his abs clenching as he adjusted his hips forward, practically folding your body under his weight, "I'm sick of your little games, I'm sick of your attitude... fuck, I'm so sick of you!"

Instead of taking insult, your jaw dopped in a silent scream as your back arched in pleasure. You could feel your orgasm coming closer and closer, as Sasuke was squishing your under his body, his pelvis rubbing against your pulsating clit. You could feel his pace becoming more erratic as he chased his own pleasure, his fingers still tightly wrapped around your throat.

"You are going to marry me again," he panted against your mouth as he pressed his forehead against yours, "And this time I won't let you go... Ever. Again."

Just like the first "proposal", this was more of a declaration rather than a question. And just like the last time you found yourself unable to defy him, as his words combined with the way you could feel each inch of him rubbing against your tight walls, was enough to send you over the edge.

A loud moan escaped your lips as your pussy leaked cum around his cock, forming a white circle at the base. His hips stuttered as he felt you clamp around him, ropes of thick cum filling your tight pussy till it started to overflow with his seed. He thrusted once, twice, making sure he had emptied fully inside of you before he collapsed on top of you, his face burying where your shoulder and neck meet.

You let out a sigh, your hands instinctively wrapping around him as you ran your fingers through his black hair. Slowly, his breath became steadier and his heart rate slower as both of you let the reality of what you just did settle. His last words rang in your head, as your eyes remained focused on the ceiling above you.

"It would never end, would it?" you whispered in a hushed tone, almost as if you were hesitant to break the silence between you two. Sasuke stilled, his head moving to the side so he can give you a questioning glance.

"This cycle that we are in... This constant push and pull, the hurt, the twisted love that we have for each other. "

You could feel his body tense at your last words, as he let them sink. Slowly, his hand let go of your throat, before he gently brushed a few hairs away from your sweaty forehead. His gaze softened as he adjusted his position so he can study your face, his eyes trailing down the messy streaks of makeup down your cheeks.

"No," he finally murmured, his voice quieter than usual, "Maybe it's not meant to end. Maybe that's just who we are."

"What? Broken?", you laughed dryly, turning your head to the side so your eyes meet. Sasuke's expression remained blank, as his hand moved down so he can take yours in his. He didn't answer but the way his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened were enough of confirmation. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but this is exactly who you were - two broken people who never learned to give or receive anything else other than raw and painful love.

"I do love you," he suddenly said, breaking the short silence that has settled between you, "But I only know one way to."

His confession hung between you as an open wound that both of you tried to cover for too long, causing a mix of relief and heartache to swirl inside your chest. His fingers brushed against your ring finger, where your wedding band once was, and you closed your eyes, silently accepting that no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were always pulled back.

Letting go of his hair, you reached toward the bedside cabinet before you pulled first drawer open, and you got a small velvet box out. Inside, your polished wedding band shined brightly, reflecting the moonlight as you pulled it out and slid it back on your finger. Sasuke's eyes carefully followed your movements, before he took your hand in his once again, his head falling against your chest as he inhaled your scent.

You had made many mistakes in your life. Ironically, the biggest one was not him.

Instead, it was the illusion that you could escape from him, or from what you had. You couldn't. And the truth is, deep inside, you didn't want to.

cc artwork: pinterest <3

[bloodyjuls-blog]

NOTHING MUCH(Russo's sister X Leah Williamson)

Kay Russo had always been Alessia’s shadow. Since they were little girls, Alessia was the star of the family: the one who shined on the football field, the one who made her parents proud, the one who had a solid group of friends who seemed to want to crush anyone who didn’t fit into their perfect world. Kay, on the other hand, was “the other.” It wasn’t that she wasn’t talented; it just never seemed like enough.

As they grew up, the differences became more pronounced. Alessia had a clear path: Manchester United, the English national team, and eventually Arsenal. On the other hand, Kay was stuck in mediocre jobs and awful comments from her parents and sister. “Why can’t you be more like Alessia?” was a phrase she heard all too often.

The relationship between Kay and Alessia was tense, but the breaking point came one night, when Alessia, along with a group of her friends, began to make fun of Kay in front of everyone at a family gathering.

“And you, Kay?” “What have you been up to lately?” Alessia said with a venomous smile. “Did you find a job or are you still living off of mom and dad’s money?”

Laughter echoed around the room, and though Kay tried to keep her composure, she felt her stomach churn with shame. That night, locked in her room, Kay collapsed on her bed with her eyes filled with tears. She knew she had to change something in her life and escape that toxic dynamic. It was then that while surfing the internet, she saw an ad for the Royal Navy: “Find a purpose. Discover your potential. Join the Royal Navy.”

Kay didn’t think twice. She knew that enlisting was her ticket out, but she also knew that her family would never understand. So she made a drastic decision: she didn’t tell them anything. The following week, the recruitment process began.

A few weeks later, Kay received confirmation: she had been accepted. The date to report was marked on her calendar, and as it approached, she felt a mix of nerves and relief. One night before she left, she decided she should at least tell her family something, but not everything.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll be gone for a while,” she said over dinner.

Her mother looked up from her plate with disdain.

“On ​​vacation? With what money?” she asked sarcastically.

Kay took a deep breath, trying not to lose her cool. “Never mind, I just wanted to let them know.”

Alessia laughed softly and murmured, “Always so mysterious.”

Kay gritted her teeth, finishing her meal in silence. That would be the last dinner she would share with them for a long time.

The day Kay left, she left home early, carrying a backpack and leaving behind a short note on the kitchen table: “I’m gone. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Take care of yourselves.”

The months that followed were a whirlwind. Basic training in the Royal Navy was brutal, but Kay held on to it with determination. Every physical exercise, every lesson, every grueling hour felt like a step toward freedom. Here she wasn't "Alessia's sister," she didn't have to endure her family's hurtful comments. Here she was simply Kay, someone trying hard to find her place.

After completing her training, Kay was given her first leave. She decided to return home, even though she knew it would be difficult.

When she arrived, the reception was cold. Alessia wasn’t even there; she was away on a trip with her team. Her parents barely showed any interest in hearing about her experience in the Navy.

“So what’s next?” her father asked in an indifferent tone. “Are you going to be here long?”

Kay felt the knot in her chest grow bigger. That night, as Alessia posted pictures on Instagram with her teammates, Kay sat alone in the backyard, wondering if she would ever truly belong in this family.

It was during one of those visits home that Kay met Leah Williamson. Alessia had invited some of her teammates over for dinner, and though Kay tried to stay out of the way, she couldn’t help but run into them. Leah was kind, something Kay hadn’t expected. They had a brief but meaningful conversation, and in that moment, Kay felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: connection.

Kay returned to her base after that brief visit home. The experience only reinforced what she already knew: her family would not change. But one thing remained in her mind: Leah Williamson. They had exchanged a few words over dinner, but there was something about her warmth, the way she seemed to see Kay as a person, and not as a shadow of Alessia. Leah didn’t know her, she was unprejudiced, and that made her different.

The day Kay had her first chance to visit London while on leave, she remembered that Leah was playing for Arsenal. She decided to take a chance and attend a match. It was strange to be surrounded by thousands of fans excited about something that, until recently, had been a source of insecurity for her: football and the shadow of her sister. Alessia was not on the team yet, which made the experience a little more bearable.

After the match, Leah, who had played spectacularly, was surrounded by fans and media. Kay watched her from a distance, trying to convince herself that she would simply leave without saying anything. But Leah saw her.

“Kay!” she called from the field, waving excitedly.

Kay froze for a moment before shyly approaching.

“What are you doing here babe?” Leah asked, clearly surprised but pleased.

Kay shrugged, trying not to look nervous. “I was in town and thought I’d come to watch the game.”

Leah smiled, and something in her expression made Kay feel less invisible. “I’m glad you came. Do you have plans now?”

Before she could stop herself, Kay shook her head. That night, they ended up having dinner together at a small, low-key restaurant near the stadium. It was the start of something unexpected.

As the months passed, Kay’s visits to London became more frequent. She always found an excuse to see her, and Leah seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed Leah’s. They talked about everything: life in the Navy, the challenges of being a professional soccer player, and, occasionally, Kay’s family struggles.

One night, as they walked through the quiet streets of London after dinner, Leah stopped and looked at her seriously.

“Kay, why don’t you ever talk about Alessia much? I know you are sisters, but you almost seem to avoid mentioning her.”

Kay looked at the ground, feeling her chest tighten. Talking about Alessia was like opening a wound that never healed.

“It’s complicated, Leah. I’ve always been… different to them. Alessia’s the star, the one who shines. I… I just exist on the periphery.”

Leah took her hand, an unexpected but comforting gesture. “That’s not fair, Kay. You shouldn’t feel that way.”

Kay looked up, surprised by Leah’s sincerity. It was at that moment that she knew this connection was something special.

As her relationship with Leah grew stronger, Kay knew there would be trouble sooner or later. Leah was a public figure, and although she hadn’t revealed details of her personal life to the world, speculation was constant. The Arsenal team was full of rumors about who Leah’s partner could be, but no one suspected Kay. Alessia, still playing in Manchester, had no idea that her younger sister was getting so close to one of her friends.

Kay also knew that her family wouldn’t approve of the relationship, not only because of who Leah was, but because the idea that she could have anything valuable in her life seemed inconceivable to them.

Everything changed when Kay received the news of a new deployment abroad. It was a high-risk mission, and although she was used to challenges, this time was different. Now she had something to lose. When she told Leah, the reaction was immediate.

“How long will you be gone honey?” Leah asked, trying to remain calm.

“I don’t know but it could be months.” Leah nodded and cuddled her, but Kay could see the worry in her eyes. That night, as they said goodbye, Leah hugged her tighter than usual.

“Just promise me you’ll come back, okay?”

Kay didn’t answer, because she knew that was a promise she couldn’t guarantee.

During deployment, Kay was severely wounded in an ambush. The bullet that hit her back damaged her spine, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Doctors told her she would never walk again. The physical pain was immense, but the emotional blow was even worse.

When she was finally able to reach Leah from the military hospital, the conversation was brief but full of emotion.

“I’m alive,” was the first thing Kay said, her voice shaking.

Leah, on the other end of the line, let out a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t hide her worry. “What happened, Kay? Tell me the truth.”

Kay closed her eyes, feeling the tears begin to flow. “I’m in a wheelchair, Leah.” I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.

The silence on the other end of the line was painful, but when Leah finally spoke, her voice was firm. “I’m going to be with you, Kay. No matter what.”

Kay spent weeks in the military hospital, facing the reality of her condition. Doctors stabilized her, but the words she most feared hearing finally came: she would never walk again. She wasn’t ready to face it. Her life as she knew it had changed forever. The military, her only refuge, was also out of reach.

London became her next destination. The medical staff recommended that she be transferred to a civilian hospital where she could receive specialized treatment and subsequently begin the rehabilitation process. When Kay thought about where she could stay afterward, only one person came to mind: Leah.

Leah waited for Kay at Heathrow Airport, visibly worried. Even though she had received constant updates about her condition, seeing her in person would be an emotional challenge. When Kay appeared in the wheelchair, pushed by a hospital attendant, Leah felt her heart tighten in her chest.

Kay wore a stoic expression as if she was using all her strength to keep her emotions in check. Leah could see past that, though. Kay’s eyes, once full of life, now reflected exhaustion and pain.

“Hi my love" Kay said quietly as she came to her side.

Leah leaned in to hug her, ignoring the fact that they were in the middle of a crowded airport. It was a long hug, one they both needed.

“Welcome home baby,” Leah said softly leaning against her and kiss her deeply.

Kay wanted to correct her, reminding her that London wasn’t her home, but she couldn’t find the words. Maybe, after all, Leah was the closest thing she had to a home.

Leah’s London flat was cozy but small, and the modifications needed to accommodate the wheelchair made the space feel even more cramped. Leah had worked tirelessly to get everything ready, installing ramps and rearranging furniture. Kay felt grateful, but also deeply uncomfortable.

“You didn’t have to do all this, Le” Kay said as she scanned the space with difficulty.

Leah, who was making a cup of tea, turned to her with a calm smile. “Of course I did. I wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.”

Kay nodded, but inside, guilt and frustration were growing. She wasn’t used to depending on anyone, let alone someone as important to her as Leah.

The first few weeks were a mix of intense emotions. Kay tried to keep a routine, attending physical therapy sessions and learning to adjust to her new life. However, every little failure—not being able to reach something, needing help with simple tasks—felt like a monumental defeat.

One night, while Leah was cooking, Kay decided it was time to talk about what had happened at the military hospital. It was a weight she had carried alone for far too long.

“Leah, can you sit down for a moment?”

Leah stopped what she was doing and sat across from Kay in the living room. The concern on her face was evident.

“What’s wrong, Kay?”

Kay took a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. “There’s something I need to tell you about what they did to me in the Navy before all the injuries happened.”

Leah nodded, her expression becoming more serious. “I’m listening.”

Kay began to speak, her voice shaky at first, but gaining strength as she went on. She told him about the treatments she’d endured: the electroshocks they justified as “experimental therapy,” the times they’d left her alone for hours without help, and the “rehab” sessions that often included pushing her physically to the limit.

“There were days I thought… I wasn’t going to get out of there. They yelled at me that I needed to be strong, that if I couldn’t take it, I didn’t deserve to be in the military.”

Leah clenched her fists as she listened, her face reflecting a mix of anger and sadness.

“How could they do that to you?” she finally asked, her voice cracking.

“It’s the price of being weak in their world, Leah. They couldn’t stand someone like me not being “useful” anymore.”

Leah leaned forward, taking Kay’s hands in hers. “Listen to me, Kay. What they did was inhumane, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are one of the strongest people I know.”

The tears Kay had been holding back finally began to fall. Leah didn’t say anything else, she held her, allowing her to release all the pain she had built up over the months.

Alessia’s arrival at Arsenal added a new layer of tension to Kay’s life. Although both had avoided any confrontation, Alessia’s passive-aggressive comments were quick to appear.

One afternoon, while Leah and Kay were at home, Alessia arrived unannounced. Leah had forgotten to lock her door, and Alessia walked in like she owned the place.

“So this is where you’re hiding, Kay?” Alessia said, with a sarcastic smile as she looked around the apartment.

Leah, who was in the kitchen, quickly came out upon hearing Alessia’s tone. “What are you doing here, Alessia?”

“I just wanted to see how my long-lost sister lived. It seems you’ve been busy… or should I say ‘well-kept’?”

Kay, who was in the living room, turned to face Alessia. “What do you want, Alessia?”

“I want to understand how you went from being a ghost to… this.” She pointed at Leah with a nod.

Leah, clearly upset, stepped in. “Alessia, if you come here to cause trouble, you can leave.”

The exchange escalated, and Kay felt old wounds reopening. Alessia had always known how to touch her weak spots, and Leah was caught in the middle. Eventually, Leah had to ask Alessia to leave, leaving Kay emotionally drained.

Despite the conflicts, the relationship between Kay and Leah continued to grow stronger. The emotional connection they shared was evident, and small displays of affection—a hand on the shoulder, an unexpected hug—began to evolve into something more.

One night, while watching a movie together, Leah leaned slightly toward Kay, resting her head on her shoulder. Kay, surprised at first, allowed the gesture and smiled.

It was a small moment of intimacy, but to Kay, it meant more than Leah could ever imagine.

Winter had come to the city, and with it, the streets of London were filled with Christmas lights and decorations. Kay, however, barely noticed the festivities. Her days were divided between physical therapy, medical adjustments, and increasingly intimate moments with Leah. However, the conflict with Alessia and the memories of the abuse at the military compound weighed on her like a constant shadow.

One morning, as Kay tried to adjust to the new exercise routine her physical therapist had recommended, Leah received an unexpected text from Alessia. She wanted to “talk.”

“Is it a good idea to give her space after what happened here?” Kay asked from her spot in the living room, as Leah checked the message.

Leah sighed, leaving her phone on the table. “I think it’s not just you, Kay. Alessia… she has issues to work out with herself.”

Kay raised an eyebrow. “Don’t justify what she does. She’s always found ways to make me feel like I’m worthless.” Leah walked over and knelt in front of Kay, placing her hands over hers. “No one has the right to make you feel that way. Not even Alessia.”

Kay wanted to believe her, but the years of emotional abuse she had endured were not easy to forget.

That afternoon, Leah went to Arsenal Stadium to meet Alessia after training. Alessia, who had been in a bad mood all day, was quick to spill the beans.

“What the hell are you doing with Kay?” Alessia asked bluntly as Leah closed the door to the meeting room.

Leah, trying to remain calm, replied, “I’m looking out for her. Something no one else is doing.”

“Looking out?” Alessia let out a sarcastic laugh. “Since when do you need to play savior?”

Leah frowned. “This isn’t a game, Alessia.” Kay has been through things that neither you nor I can imagine, and instead of supporting her, you--

“Don’t lecture me!” Alessia interrupted, slamming her hands on the table. “Kay has always been a burden. Every time I tried to stand out, she was there, ruining everything.”

Leah felt her patience wearing thin. “You know what ruins everything, Alessia? Your inability to see her as anything more than a reflection of your insecurities.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Alessia hadn’t expected such a direct response, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“This isn’t over, Leah,” she finally said, before leaving the room.

That night, Leah returned to the apartment emotionally drained. Kay noticed her expression and decided it was time to share something she had been holding back.

“What happened?” Kay asked as Leah plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Your sister… doesn’t understand anything,” Leah replied, massaging her temples.

Kay sighed and looked out the window. “It’s because she’s never seen me as her sister, Leah. I was always ‘the other Russo.’ The one with no talent. The one who didn’t fit in.”

Leah turned to her, surprised by the tone of vulnerability in her voice.

“You want to know why I joined the Royal Navy?” Kay asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Leah nodded, knowing Kay needed to vent.

“I saw an ad online while I was looking for a job. It seemed like a way to escape everything… from Alessia, from my family, from myself. I wanted to prove that I could do something for myself, something that no one could take away from me.”

Kay paused, her hands shaking as she recalled those days.

“But even then… it was never enough. And then… then came the hospital.”

Leah took her hand, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

Kay shook her head. “I need to. Because if I don’t, those things are going to keep haunting me.”

Then, Kay began to speak, detailing the horrors she had endured. She described the time when she had arrived at the hospital very badly injured thinking that what had happened was her fault, or that it was all karma for being fragile and not facing things, where she would rather a thousand times have her die than have a partner who had a family that loved him.

“There was a doctor… I will never forget her face.” She told me I was a failure, that someone in a wheelchair was nothing anymore, that I was wasting valuable Navy resources that could be used on soldiers who would go back into combat, I… I can’t take it anymore.” Kay paused, taking a deep breath.

Leah hugged her tightly, unable to hold back her tears. “God, Kay… I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t want you to see me as a victim, Leah.” Kay rested her forehead on Leah’s shoulder. “I just want to be someone who deserves… something.”

“You deserve everything, Kay. And I’m here to remind you of that every day.”

Despite everything, Kay began to find small moments of peace in her life with Leah. They began to spend more time together, sharing stories and laughing despite the circumstances.

One night, as Leah read a book on the couch, Kay leaned into her, resting her head on her shoulder. Leah smiled and set the book aside, putting an arm around Kay.

“You know?” —Leah said after a while. —I never thought I'd find someone I wanted to share so much with.

Kay looked up, surprised by the confession. —And me?

—You're that person, Kay. My person, my forever.

For the first time in a long time, Kay felt like maybe, just maybe, she had a place in the world where she truly belonged.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: guys... you can't tell me y'all weren't expecting this. Title from the song "Vicarious" by Tool. Really wanted this to be a one shot, but as usual, I have shit to say. Will be Cross-Posted on AO3 as soon as they open the site back up.

Warnings: Nothing Explicit YET, some sexist remarks and creepy behavior from the man of the hour, Questionable Corporate Ethics, Set Before The Events Of The Show, Reader is written to be Plus Size.

Summary: Sidekick projects have been scraped completely after numerous accidents, but as a viral video of your hero work makes rounds through the public, you're forced to take part in a six moths program, that will forever change your life, as well as Homelander's

PT.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

It all started with a video. An insignificant, minute-long nothing posted to TikTok by an account, that up until then, made short edits specifically of A-Train and some B-list no-name hero. Quickly, it gained traction, making rounds throughout the app, bleeding over to other services, all the way to national television. First, an independent local station, soon picked up by a Vaught-affiliated one. Normally, that's where it would've stayed. Stillwell would extend an offer of a chance at an interview, alongside one of the Seven. But for some unknown reason, that small piece of nothing climbed all the way up to the floor eighty-two of Vaught Tower.

Well, to be quite honest, Stillwell knew exactly why she was in this situation. After a very messy graduation speech at a small college, Homelander lost almost twenty points with a young adult demographic. It would've been an easy fix, if not for the delicate nature of the breached subject, and Madelyn knew, this sudden interest in a nobody from nowhere, who, coincidentally, fit the demographic perfectly, was anything but a happy accident. It was a test, both for Homelander, and for her.

Which is why, Madelyn Stillwell and Homelander, the Homelander, the most American supe to ever exist, are cooped up in your living room, glancing about the modest decor, as you pour iced tea into three glasses with tacky fruit print all over them.

You've refused every single invitation, every single Vaught representative that knocked on your door. Your inbox was flooded with emails, your phone number was blowing up two, three times a day. And yet, your answer remained the same. You were not interested in a collaboration, thank you for the opportunity, please leave me alone.

That wouldn't fly, not with Madelyn, who, pushed by the constant nagging from the upper levels of the Tower, decided a more direct approach was the right one. So, she dragged herself into this… Well, to be quite honest, bum-fuck-nowhere, and brought her star pupil with her. No one would refuse working with Homelander himself, after all. At least that's what they both thought.

-I appreciate the effort - there's a practiced, borderline bored intonation in your voice, and Homelander's hands flex on his thighs - But I've already talked with, um, Jerry? From HR? The answer is still no.

Your house is small, but cozy, with sunshine pouring through the windows, reflecting onto the beaded curtain hanging in the doorway to your kitchen. An artist's home, through and through. Homelander hates it, hates the ordinariness of it all. He was so much above all this, sitting on your worn down couch physically hurt him. And the smell. The smell was the worst part. Reheated lasagna, mixing with a lingering aftertaste of cigarette smoke, and an undercurrent of weed, that almost made him retch. If it weren't for that damned video, you would be nothing more, than another brainless ant under his boot.

-Well, we - Madelyn offers her best, brilliant smile, gesturing to herself and Homelander - are very passionate about discovering new talent.

Your mouth twitches into a knowing smile, and for just a second Homelander feels flames of intrigue rising in his chest. Not for long, though, because you recline back into an armchair, taking a sip of the iced tea, and his eyes flash to the way your throat moves as you swallow. You could be hot, he concludes. Young, and with a truly spectacular rack. But there was something off about you, like you were constantly on the verge of dying from boredom, some invisible weight always on your shoulders. No amount of fake smiles and high-end makeup could cover that up.

He'd fuck you. If you'd beg him.

-We want to offer you a new, revised contract - Stillwell extends her hand with a rather thick binder of papers, and you hesitate for a moment, before reaching over. - Hopefully, it will make you reconsider.

You don't even show them the decency of looking through it, placing it on the table instead, and Homelander feels an itch form itself in the corners of his eyes. Stillwell looks taken aback as well, her brilliant smile faltering for just a second. You on the other hand, take another sip of your drink, before placing it right in the middle of the contract, the moisture from the ice creating a wet circle in the paper.

Your heartbeat is even, it doesn't pick up even a smidgen, when you look between Stillwell and America's Greatest Hero, who is slowly but surely growing annoyed by your persistent indifference.

-Thank you, but I already said no - you repeat, and this time, Homelander shifts on the couch.

-And why not? - he asks, tension entering his voice in a way, that makes Madelyn squirm - Countless supes, with much more impressing powers than you, I might add, would kill to be in your place.

"To work with me" goes unsaid, but he can see in your eyes, you read it from thin air of superiority engulfing him. Annoyingly perceptive. You nod your head slowly, before turning away from them, looking out of the window of your living room. There's a small patch of grass, and a second house, so similar to yours, but at the same time, completely different. Your chin sticks out in its direction, and Homelander follows with his eyes.

There are paper butterflies stuck to the windows, cut out clumsily, most likely by children's hands.

-My neighbour, Missus Johnson - you explain - She lives there, with her three kids. Her husband died in a fire caused by your friend, Lamp Lighter.

Madelyn stills, Homelander raises an eyebrow.

-I can afford this house, only because my mother signed an NDA, after The Deep sank my father's fishing boat. - again, your heart stays completely unaffected - Accidentally, of course.

-I was not aware… - Madelyn starts, and it's hard to decipher whether she's talking to you, or Homelander.

Someone at the research department is going to have a very unpleasant evening.

-That's alright - you interrupt her with a raised hand and a small smile - This whole neighborhood is filled with similar cases. And I'm very, very attached to this place.

Why, Homelander couldn't tell. For all he knew, this was some shit hole, right in the suburbs outside New York. Not even the half decent ones. A forgotten by everyone, dying piece of land, that housed insignificant humans, who would never amount to anything, you included. He lived in a lavish apartment, inside a miracle of modern architecture. Who wouldn't want the same?

-And - there's something new entering your tone of voice - If I'm going to betray everything I stand for, I need to give something back to those people. Does your contract reflect that?

Madelyn bites the inside of her cheek, her scrutinizing gaze making your skin itch. Still, she sighs after a moment, excusing herself with that same, practiced expression she uses on every shareholder. Homelander follows her out, nodding his goodbye to you, but before he can leave this dump, Madelyn stops him with a hand pressed against his chest. She gives him one look, makes him aware that his job isn't over, and he can feel the muscles of his face twitch.

So, obediently, he lingers in your doorway, taking a few calming breaths, before facing you once more.

You've changed positions, your armchair abandoned in favor of sitting by the window, one leg bent in a way, that shows quite a nice view of your calf, your long skirt pooling around you. Homelander's eyes trail up with mild interest, and he indulges in his X-ray vision. He's just being curious, nothing more.

Your underwear is, well, for the lack of a better word, plain. The bra seems to be slightly ill fitted, digging into the sides of your breasts, making them almost spill from under your pits, and Homelander swallows thickly at the sight. There are little, pink hearts on your panties. The colors are dull and washed out from frequent use, and the once frilly lace is starting to fray at the edges.

Apparently Vaught's compensation was not sufficient for you to buy some decent undergarments.

-Do you want something to eat? Drink? - you ask from your place by the window, and Homelander is snatched back to reality - Do you even need food?

The bluntness of the question startles him, makes him feel defensive, but Madelyn wanted results, so he puts on a mask of his trained smile, and crosses the room. Back straight like an arrow, he looks wildly out of place between all the linens and cushions. He doesn't look at you, trapping your smaller form in the confinement of the window, as he watches over the neighboring house.

-I'm not hungry - he shoots down your offer with a wave of his hand - I've already eaten.

A lie, but he'd never stoop low enough to take any leftovers, especially from you. Still, the offer seems nice. He does like being pampered, even if it's with lackluster things. Your eyes linger on his boyish smile, another practiced thing, and Homelander shifts focus to your heartbeat once again.

-Alright then - your voice sounds indifferent as ever - Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to make some dinner for myself.

He offers a small nod, and watches you from his position by the window, as you slip past him. It does require quite a lot of manoeuvering, but you manage to stand without touching him. He has to admit, watching you balance, as you try to avoid him, was amusing. Still, your heart beats calmly, and, not wanting to be left on his own, Homelander follows you to your kitchen. The beads of the courtain drum delicately over the bronze eagles on his shoulders.

The fridge is buzzing something awful. He can see just how run down the inside mechanism is, the hinges squeaking unbearably, as you reach for a box of reheatable spaghetti. There's cheep beer inside, a moldy lemon, a carton of milk pretty close to expiring, and a half-used bottle of spicy ketchup. Homelander doesn't even recognize these brands, they're not sponsored by Vaught, that's for sure.

Cheap, tasteless, basically offering no nutritional value.

-Would you step back for a second? - he asks, already wrenching himself between you and that pathetic excuse of a meal.

Again, your body sways to avoid touching him, and for some unknown reason, he finds it very amusing.

Then, you watch with a raised eyebrow, as he turns towards your spaghetti, a red sheen overtaking his eyes. An unbearably hot beam shoots out, making the insides of the plastic packaging sizzle. Finally, that gets him a reaction, as you gasp and reel back, colliding with the barely functional fridge. Your heart does a flip inside your chest, and Homelander soaks up your shock like a man starved.

Only when the red fizzles out of his gaze do you dare to move, approaching him slowly, your eyes bearing into him in a way that is frankly uncomfortable.

He turns to you with another one of his charming smiles, trying to handle this sudden scrutiny in as flippant a way as possible.

-I had no idea you can control the intensity of your lazer - you admit, voice slightly breathless.

-Pretty neat, huh? - perhaps he's fishing for more attention, but he doesn't care, because your eyes light up for just a moment in sheer wonder.

-Super cool, actually.

Yeah. Yeah, that's fucking right, he is super cool. And your heart is beating so much faster, and finally you're looking at him as if he's more than just some guy, some living advertisement you're determined to ignore.

And then your eyes shift, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, as you zero in on his shoulder. Something akin to a wave of amusement flickers across your expression, and to his general surprise, Homelander wants to know what's the cause of this shift. Your lips pull back into a smile, teeth peaking at him in all their glory. He can almost imagine them running down his skin, before he pushes the thought back all together, as the lower portion of his suit becomes slightly too tight for comfort.

-Well, thank you for saving the spaghetti - your eyes hold a spark of amusement - My hero.

Okay, alright, he's hard. There's no point denying it. However annoying and insignificant you were moments before, your quip goes straight to his loins, burning enough, for him to consider just how mad Stillwell would be, if he'd have a taste of this newly discovered talent.

If he stands any closer to you, he might find out, because this special little moment you two have shared, is crudely interrupted by Madelyn clearing her throat. Homelander nearly jumps back, you however barely turn your head, reaching for your spaghetti and arming yourself with a fork.

-I've spoken to my supervisor - Stillwell announces, clearly peeved by the way you start chewing on the noodles - A new version of the contract will be emailed to you as soon as possible. Hopefully it will be satisfactory.

-Thank you, Miss Stillwell - you answer with an inclination of your head.

With that, Madelyn nods her goodbye at you, refusing to shake your hand, which does amuse you, you're not going to lie. Homelander however, goes all out, capturing your fork-weilding arm, his fingers sneaking around your wrist like a bracelet. Or a shackle. Then, you watch with a confused arch to your eyebrows, as he brings you closer, until his lips press onto the protruding knuckles. Now that, admittedly, gets your heart going. You were not an easily embarrassed person, not by a long shot, but you could feel blood rushing towards your face all the same.

He has to hold his breath, as he kisses your hand in that charming, gentleman way he's seen in old movies. The smell of pasteurized tomato sauce blows in his direction, like a direct assault on his senses. Still, he needed something that would make you swoon. If everything failed, he knew how to be intimidating, but for now, perhaps he wanted to try something different. Something that would yield much more pleasant results, for the both of you. Mostly for him, let's be honest.

Madelyn asks him to stay back, spy on you throughout the night, and he begrudgingly agrees, if only to mask the fact, that he would do so of his own volition, had she not brought it up. And as such, he floats into the rapidly cooling air, disappearing into the darkening sky, where you wouldn't be able to see him even if you tried. He could see you however, and hear you, and he was about to make the most of the situation.

He spends the whole evening just watching you exist within your space. Normally, it would piss him off beyond belief. You weren't doing anything scandalous, anything that could warrant his attention. And yet, as he floats on, in time lowering himself just slightly, to get a better view, he just can't seem to look away. The spaghetti is gone in approximately fifteen minutes, as you inhale the supermarket food, walking around the living room, the kitchen, getting a few bites on the porch even. You seem so utterly unfazed by the events of the past hour, like you haven't just had America's Greatest Superhero try to convince you to work with him. It's honestly insulting, this lack of reaction.

Then, finally, he can hear a distinct ping of a new email come from your laptop, and you sit down on the couch with a small huff. Your eyes move, your lips twitch, and then he hears your heart stop in your chest. As if working on autopilot, your hand travels up, covers your mouth in shock, and you lean back against the worn-down sofa, eyes glued to the screen illuminating your face in a blue-ish light.

-...fuck… - you whisper, and despite himself Homelander floats even closer to your window.

Finally, he has the chance to peak over the curtain. To sneak into the backstage of the award winning production of your defenses, and see what goes on in those bored eyes of yours, when they're not guarded. And what he sees makes his suit feel much too tight, his body too warm. Quite an unusual thing to get so worked up about, but he's the goddamned Homelander, he can get hard whenever he fucking wants. And so, as saliva gathers on his tongue, he presses himself against the tiles on your roof, all the warmth of the day soaking into his skin through the thick material of his suit.

With a shaky hand you reach over towards your phone, putting in a number and pressing the call button, before standing straight from the couch, almost knocking the laptop over.

-Hey, what's up? - someone says on the other end of the line, and Homelander tries to focus more on the words flowing from the receiver.

-Oh, you gotta sit down for that one - you warn with an anxious chuckle, taking the familiar place by the window.

With your free hand you reach up to open the window all the way. Then, Homelander sees your fingers slip between the pillows and pull out a rather beaten up pack of cigarettes.

Naughty, naughty, he thinks, watching you produce a lighter from that same hiding place.

-Alright, I'm sat like never before.

The voice sounds vaguely female, although the shitty quality of your phone makes it hard to decipher. Your lips pull back into a toothy grin, and you blow out the smoke through the window. It curls upwards and dissipates into the air, right above the roof, where Homelander swallows thickly around a coughing fit.

-You will not believe who visited me today…

-The ICE - the voice deadpans, and you snort around another huff of smoke.

-Pretty fucking close, let me tell you - he doesn't appreciate the joke, not at all - Fucking Homelander.

The line goes completely quiet for a moment, and with every second your grin seems to be growing.

-Deadass?

-Yup - your lips purse, and Homelander zeroes in on the expression - Flew in all Star's Spangled Glory with some Vaught big fish. They tried to convince me to join the Seven.

-And obviously you said yes, because what the fuck else do you do in that situation?

Your grin slowly fades away, and you lean your forehead on the window frame.

-You didn't?

-I didn't.

Again, it's quiet.

Homelander shifts a bit in his position, adjusting against the warmed up tiles of the roof, his X-ray vision bearing into you. Out of curiosity, he looks deeper, eyes floating over your insides. You're relatively healthy. Some vitamin deficiencies, but nothing too serious. And despite that nasty habit lodged between your fingers, your lungs are clear, at least for now. There's a softness to your body, your muscles barely visible, as if you're just another gray human. Oh, and there's a bit of an eyesight problem forming, not enough to warrant glasses, but that shouldn't take long, considering your lifestyle.

-The contract they gave me was really good, you know - you muse to the phone, your leg dangling from the windowsill - Six months of working under Homelander, a Sidekick kinda situation.

-I thought they scraped the Sidekick program - the person on the other side wonders - Too many casualties or something.

-Yeah, well I guess they want to bring it back.

-Why did you say no then? I'm sure they pay is gigantic.

Again, you smile. This one much more reserved, bordering on sad. There's that strange kind of exhaustion settling into your bones again, same one Homelander noticed when he first saw you. Your shoulders slump forward, and you curl into yourself between the cushions.

-It was, it was… - you mutter - But I needed something more, for the neighborhood, ya know?

Your caller hums softly in understanding, and Homelander feels like something is passing him by. Some unspoken fact, that you and your friend find obvious.

-And - you hesitate, eyes flickering towards the laptop, your heart beat picking up ever so slightly - They sent me a revised contract. And it's fucking good. Really fucking good. It could help this entire place get back on its feet.

-But you still don't want to - the voice says for you, without judgement.

-No - you sigh - I really, really don't.

-Say no then - your friend supplies, and once again Homelander feels a flame of annoyance start to burn within him - No one else knows about the contract, there will be no expectations.

Slowly, you nod your head, clearly relieved by the way your friend reacted to the news. Homelander however, caught you right where he needed you. That's your lever. Not seduction, not intimidation, just plain, stupidly human guilt.

-Thank you - you whisper into your phone, finally smiling again - Oh, wanna know one more thing?

-Obviously.

-Homelander's wearing a padded suit.

Something's stuck in his throat, as he reels back from his position. Before he can stop himself, his eyes begin to glow red, because how the fuck did you know?

-Okay, that's bullshit.

-Unless his shoulder dislocated in the middle of talking, then no, it's definitely not bullshit.

Your friend gives out a choked laugh, one which you mirror with your own. If Homelander wasn't so utterly flabbergasted by your (correct) observation, he would've stopped to appreciate the sound. As it stands, however, he pushes himself off your roof, a couple of broken pieces falling off of the tiles. And then he's up in the air, cutting through the winds, headed straight for the Tower, leaving you in the comfort of your insignificant, smelly home.

The contract is leaked before the sun is up.

You're awoken to thousands of news articles flooding your timeline, all listing the truly wonderful and selfless points in the fated email. With a white face, you read them all, the speculations, the theories, the angry comments about you being chosen without an actual casting, while all those up and coming supes are busting their asses in auditions.

Soon enough, you're visited by every neighbour possible, congratulating, thanking you. A barbecue is set in the street, as a way of celebration, and you want to throw your phone, and subsequently yourself into the nearest river.

Madelyn Stillwell sends you an email, scheduling a meeting at the Vaught Tower. No need for pleasantries at this point, you stare at the bare bones invitation. "We eagerly await the start of our partnership" looks back at you, mocking your resolve. And thus, the end of your life as you know it begins.

"Project Delinquent"

The words are printed in an ugly, corporate font, and they stare back at you, outlining the mold you're supposed to fit in, in such a perfect way, it actually, almost makes you retch. True, during high school you were quite the little rebel, but people grown and learn, and seeing your character be watered down to that simple word, does send a wave of nausea through your insides. Even if this is hell of your own making, even if you're ready to swallow it all down with a smile, there's a pang of humiliation stinging your heart.

The armchair in Stillwell's office is uncomfortably narrow. It barely has enough room to accommodate your hips, and you wonder if this design is intentional. There is a growing ache in your calves, as you sit so close to the edge, you can't fully relax into your position, balancing on your feet instead. The armrests dig into your sides, and the way the sun is shining through the gigantic windows of the office, is shaping this charade of a meeting into an overstimulating nightmare. Still, you endure. For all the wonderful benefits enclosed in your contract, the charity work Vaught is going to supply.

Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself, stuck between the marketing department representatives and a literal Devil of a woman.

Madelyn Stillwell doesn't know what to make out of you. Your files were filled with all sorts of questionable activity, especially around the college area. It's honestly a miracle you've managed to get your degree, and attend all those silly little demonstrations at the same time. Your criminal record has been wiped clean, weeks before you even agreed to sign the contract, just in case any leaks would find their way into the media. Leaks that were not orchestrated by Madelyn, of course.

High school rebellion was almost too easily marketable, Madelyn decided to focus on that part of your life as much as possible, her vision slowly coming to fruition. All she needed, really, was cooperation. And while you seemed to be mostly receptive to her ideas, she needed to make sure Homelander was on his best behavior. Which, well… Could go sideways in the worst way imaginable, but Stillwell tried to have some faith in her best superhero.

The idea of releasing details of your contract to the public, was a stroke of genius, she did not expect from Homelander, and she made sure he was thoroughly rewarded. With him, it was always better to choose the hands-on approach, unfortunately. With you, however, ideals were the key. Whatever feeling of solidarity you harbored towards your neighborhood, provided a leverage relatively easy to control. Still, as Stillwell looked you over, crammed into her office in your, frankly, lousy attire, she couldn't help but be just a tad worried about your compliance.

-…And then - the marketer continues with a dramatic gasp - Homelander comes in. America's Greatest Hero, offers you a mentorship. And you…

You look up at the representative with a rather sour expression. They have to work on that too. Media training was crucial. You won't be able to sell anything, if you keep grimacing like that all the damned day.

-… Are starstruck - your mouth twitches - You strike up a deal, selfless. A rebel with a heart of gold. Finally, you can make some real change happen, so you push aside your anti-corporate values, to discover, that Vaught is so much more, than you could possibly imagine.

It's hard not to laugh, and you swallow thickly, biting your lip, as a middle-aged woman you don't recognize gets up from the couch, and makes her way to the wall opposite of your torture chair. There, tucked in a corner and hidden under a black cloth, stands a mannequin, roughly your size. With a flourish you find utterly out of place, the woman tugs at the cape, and as it falls to the floor, so does your stomach. You can't hold it in any longer. A rough snort of laughter rips out of your nose, and you cover your mouth instantly.

-That better be a laugh of delight - Ashley, a ginger menace, mutters under her breath, and Stillwell turns to you with a tight expression on her face.

-Something the matter?

-I mean - you take a deep, grounding breath, tying your amusement in the back of your throat - I knew it's going to be skimpy, but this is…

You look around the room, seeing various stages of corporate outrage, and then you lock eyes with Homelander. Stillwell insisted on his participation in the meeting, as the both of you are supposed to work closely together, and throughout the whole ordeal, he looked borderline ready to die of boredom. Now, however, his eyebrows lift in a curious manner, as he takes in the, to be completely honest, horrendous costume, and your full figure. Something dangerously close to disgust twists your features, as he shamelessly drags his eyes all over your body.

Who would've thought America's Sweetheart was a fucking creep?

Rolling your eyes, you get up from the cursed armchair, your knees cracking loudly. Crossing the room, you take a closer look at the clothing, or rather, lack there of. Torn fishnets, plaid tennis skirt, and a corset top, made out of some leather-like material. Truly, a fetishists wet dream. Your fingers sample the fabric of the skirt. Surprisingly stiff, it seems to beg for a wardrobe malfunction. With a frown pulling down your lips, you lift the material up, and as expected, find no safety shorts underneath.

Homelander watches you intently, as you inspect the costume. Just the thought of your soft body in this skimpy, corporate bastardization of a rock star, makes heat rise in the lower part of his stomach. With every disapproving pull of your, and don't quote him on that, perfect lips, he's more and more convinced this whole charade is just an early birthday present. He'll have to thank Stillwell. Or better not, because as soon as he throws her a sidelong glance, he discovers, she's already looking at him. With a rather tense expression at that.

He feigns innocence, almost raises his hands in mock defeat, but decides against it at the last second. You're still watching him, torn between inspecting the costume, and shooting disgruntled looks in his direction.

Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, your hand sneaks to the front of the corset, fingers closing over the full cup, where your breast will soon reside. You give the mock leather two squeezes, and a high-pitched laugh wheezes out of your lips. Homelander's head nearly snaps with how fast he turns to look at Stillwell, confusion clear on his face.

She's looking at you cautiously. He knows that expression all too well, he's seen it multiple times during their partnership. She's calculating, with bated breath, just how much of a problem you'll inevitably become. How to turn it around in the company's favor, how to steer you in the right direction, should the need arise.

But then, you clap your hands, still giggling quietly, and turn to the designer, who's been watching your reaction with a growing distaste.

-That's one hell of a push-up bra - you comment with a raised eyebrow - My tits will fly straight out of this, if I even think about moving my arms.

Now, that's something Homelander would love to see, and you note his leering face with an uncomfortable shift in your posture.

-Your physique has to be god-like. There's no shame in a little padding - the designer answers simply, and your eyes glimmer with amusement.

-Oh, I bet - your eyes float for just a second in Homelander's direction, and he wonders if lasering you down right now would be too harsh of a reaction.

The image had to be kept up, however, and he deflects your blatant provocation with a bright smile. Or rather, it would've been a bright smile, if his cheek didn't twitch in a way, that portrayed exactly how forced his pleasantries are.

-There will be a press conference, seven PM sharp, where you'll be introduced to the public - Ashley informs you, her eyes glued to her tablet - Homelander will give a welcoming speech, explain that you're a temporary member of The Seven. Then, you'll need to say a couple of words. We'll send you the talking points ASAP.

-Right… - you mutter, not particularly thrilled by the idea of public speaking.

Stillwell looks over her shoulder towards Homelander, giving him an expectant, raised eyebrow. Slowly, he moves from his spot by the window, hand extended in a greeting, teeth flashing in a smile. Your eyes involuntarily shift towards his rather sharp canines, and for the first time, since you've signed the contract, you truly feel uneasy. His eyes are almost unnaturally blue, a perfect, American shade, that glimmers just a tad too dangerously. There's no need for super senses, he can feel your nerves in the very air you breathe.

-Welcome to The Seven - his voice is smoother than you've ever heard before - Fireball.

Wait a god-damned minute.

Confusion covers all previous feelings, and to Homelander's growing annoyance, you leave him with his hand extended, in favor of turning towards Stillwell.

-That's not my name - you point out, and Madelyn nods her head in a practiced expression of understanding.

-Due to some copyright intricacies, we can't let you use Smirnoff - she explains.

You suck in a deep breath through your teeth, looking back towards the costume. A moment's hesitation, you close your eyes as you breathe out, and once again Homelander feels as if he's able to peak under a carnival mask you carefully placed upon yourself. He lifts it just enough, sees the way muscles on your neck twitch. Your jaw sets in a way, that is slowly becoming intoxicating, and then you turn back to him.

-I'm honored - your voice is hollow, locked far away in the column of your throat, and you don't have enough strength to even attempt a smile.

That's alright, he has enough charm for the both of you, his imposing stature pushing towards you, as his arm sneaks around your shoulders.

Fuck, you're warm. He can feel the heat of your skin seeping into his costume. There's a vaguely familiar smell clinging to your form, mixing with the scent of cigarette smoke. Jasmine flowers, he concludes, and absent-mindedly remembers a rather large bush growing in your backyard. He wonders, if you'd let him fuck you, if he showed up with a bouquet at your door. Women seemed to like those, and although you didn't strike him as the most romantic person, he's positive he could charm his way into your pants.

-I'll show you to your room, sweetheart - perhaps he's laying it on a bit heavy with the nickname.

He can hear Stillwell's heart jump, and he immediately knows, he's going to have to sit through a stern talk later today. You, on the other hand, wrench your head to the side, disgruntled with this new form of familiarity. Your entire body goes tense, and you try to wriggle yourself further away from him. On instinct, his fingers dig into your shoulder, a mockery of a friendly expression, and with just a small fragment of his true strength, he pushes you forward, out of Stillwell's office.

He can do whatever he wants, and Madelyn is getting awfully pushy with guarding you from him. You're just a temporary toy to satisfy the higher-ups. A six months worth of an experiment, that he's forced to be a part of. After your contract is up, Vaught won't care whether you live or die, and you bet your rather ample ass, he's going to exploit that to the fullest. Not only is it borderline insulting, to deny him life's simple pleasures, it's pathetic.

-Nervous about the press? - he asks in a light tone, his jaw clicking softly, when your slide out of his grasp as soon as the doors close.

The casualness of this question throws you in a bit of a loop, but with a couple of rapid blinks, you're back to normal, letting him lead you towards the elevator.

-Public speaking isn't my best asset - you mumble.

Homelander presses the call button of the elevator, then leans against the wall, watching you with a strange twinkle in his eye.

-Sounds like someone's not a people person - he notes, wiggling his finger at you in a manner that is confusingly playful.

-I am a people person - you defend yourself, albeit a bit awkwardly - Just… Not when there's a lot of people.

He laughs at that, a practiced, almost theatrical bark that's as fake as his hairdo. All you have the strength to do, is flash him half of a smile. Thankfully the elevator pings before any more small-talk is required, and you slip into the confined space, standing in the corner. His eyes roam freely all over your body, a shameless act that makes your guts twist, makes the already small space of the elevator even more stuffy. And then, he enters after you, pressing a button to the right floor, and taking a spot much too close to you, than what's necessary.

You suppose it's one of the things you'll have to get used to. This constant invasion of your personal space. Perhaps, if it were someone else, someone that wasn't as empty as you, those actions would've been more intimidating than annoying. Alas, as you watch his chest rise and fall in steady rythm, out of the corner of your eye, his actions remind you of a petulant, spoiled child, rather than America's Greatest Hero. "I can't play with this toy? And what if I do this?" For just a second you entertain the idea of gentle parenting Homelander, and the thought makes the corner of your mouth twitch.

-Something the matter? - he asks, tension sneaking into his friendly tone.

-Just happy to be here, sir - you answer, and he knows it's a blatant lie, another one of your snarky provocations.

Doesn't matter for now, there will be a time to teach you some manners.

The elevator arrives at the right floor, and you bolt out of your place as soon as the doors slip open. Homelander follows closely behind, before closing the distance in a couple of long steps. Then, he's in front of you, and you nearly collide with his form, as he suddenly comes to a stop, in front of a pair of large doors. "Fireball" is etched into a small plack, and you throw the offending piece of metal a withering glance.

-That's your stop, sweetheart - he comments, and once again, you grimace at the nickname - Take a look inside, I'm sure it will blow your socks right off.

Why is he talking to you like you're a fucking child all of a sudden, you'll never understand. The door clicks softly, as you open it, revealing your living space for the next six months. The sight chokes a laugh out of you, because truly, the ammount of "punk" memorabilia is staggering.

-Does cocaine addiction come with the package, or…?

He doesn't even react to your joke, and you don't blame him. For all his creepiness and fake interest, he doesn't strike you as the funniest person on earth. There are guitars hanging over a rather large bed, there's a pristine stop sign next to them, which you suppose is meant to look rebellious. The usage of leopard print is tacky at best, and you truly start to wonder if they even consulted someone out of the corporation to design the space. Most likely no, wouldn't want to waste resources on such a small project.

-Fireball - Homelander's voice is barely above a whisper, but it makes your heart jump all the same.

He's standing so closely behind you, you can feel the warmth of his breath at the back of your neck, but for some unnknown reason, you can't force yourself to move. Instead, you feel him take a deep breath trough his nose, his chest brushing against your back. Your eyes stay glued to a drum set, pushed against a gigantic window. Light reflects off of the cymbals, in your mind you're already playing it, far away from this nightmare of a superhero.

-I'll see you at the press conference - Homelander's hand clasps itself over your shoulder, squeezing a couple of times, as if testing the softness of your body - Don't even think about being late, young lady.

You don't know when he dissapears, as you stand there, frozen. One foot over the threshold of your room, breathing shallow and borderline panicked. It could've been seconds, could've been hours, until your head finally snaps to the side. He's not there anymore, you're alone in the corridor, and as you slam the door closed behind you, something you've only suspected before becomes abundantly clear.

There is something deeply wrong with Homelander.

[entitled-fangirl]

I hate you.

Aemond Targaryen x Stark!reader

Summary: the reader and the prince hate each other so much, they might just love each other.

Warnings: makeout session, choking, talks of death, brief talk of sex, Aemond is his own warning

Masterlist

...............................................................

When Rheanyra was still believed to be the heir to the throne, Cregan Stark sent his only sister to become the betrothed to Prince Aemond. 

But both the Prince and the Flower of the North were too headstrong for their own good. 

Like the North, she was gruff and determined. She held the characteristics of her brother in the way she carried herself. 

Now, Aemond was a cold man.

But luckily she was used to the cold. 

They made things work, as most unhappy couples do. Perform marital acts, be strong leaders for the nation. 

Until the day King Viserys died and Aegon took the throne. 

For the small crack that divided the two, it had quickly become a ravine. 

She stood for the North. The oath her father made to Rheanyra. Wherever her people went, so did she. 

And Aemond would not move from his brother's side. 

It made things difficult. 

But nothing had separated them more than this. 

…

"What have you done?" She asked, standing from the chair with her book long abandoned. 

Aemond stood in the doorway of their chambers. He cocked his head to the side with a furrowed brow and a calm voice, "Whatever do you mean?"

Her nostrils flared, "You left to speak to the Baratheons. You return. It is a long journey. Vhagar has not been fed in days." She took a step forward, "Why not?"

"I do not believe it is of your concern what my dragon does. Since when have you cared so deeply for her?" He calmly asked to change the subject.

She let out a breath, "You've done something."

"Do calm yourself, my lady."

"Do not tell me what I must do, my Prince." She muttered with a clenched jaw. 

He studied her and let out a soft hum, "Wolves don't hunt alone, and yet here you are."

Her brow furrowed, "Because you've kept me in the dark."

"You may be in this castle, but your loyalty is far from the greens."

"Your loyalty remains to your brother," she reminded him. "As does mine to my own."

His eyebrows raise and he lets out another hum, "I suppose you're not wrong."

"So, tell me what you did?"

He let out a sigh. His pushed his shoulders back and his stature become more like a soldier at the reminder of his actions. "Vhagar has been fed."

She felt her eyes water, "Who?"

His lips pulled into a smile, "It is no matter." His hands came up to his eyepatch, pulling it off and holding it in his hand, "The debt has been paid back in full."

She stared at the patch in his hand, but her mind was running with questions that she knew he would not answer. 

Finally, her voice was a quiet whisper, "You're a monster."

His head cocked at her and an amused grin pulled at his lips, "I am only a man."

"What. Have. You. Done?" She asked again. 

He doesn't respond verbally. His eye narrows on her with his grin.

She huffs and pushes past him to leave. 

He chuckles lowly, "Did I say we were done speaking?"

She pauses mid-step with her back to him, "I did not think you had to. You do not continue to talk when you're done speaking, do you?" She turned to look at him slowly, "By your lack of answers to my questions, I do believe you haven't truly even begun to speak to me. So, yes. I do believe we're done speaking, my prince."

"And where do you intent to flee to?" He asked amused. 

"Somewhere I may find the answers I am lacking."

He took slow steps to her, "What better place than at the source?" He gestured to himself.

She let out a soft chuckle, "I do believe that perhaps I was wrong earlier."

He began to near her, a mere foot distancing them. "How so?"

Her lips pulled into a smile, "You're not a monster, are you?" She closed the distance between them and her voice softened, "You're just a boy."

His eye flashed with anger and his hand grabbed her throat. He merely held her there, not squeezing but a reminder of the power he held over her. 

She let out an initial gasp, but her smile only grew, "Have I angered the dragon?"

"And here I thought the wolves of the north were cold. No," he mused, "You're quite full of fire."

She held her head higher in pride, giving him more access to her neck.

"And you will be full of fire when this dragon is done with you," He nearly growled. 

She huffed, "If you weren't my prince husband-"

"-Then what?" He asked amused. 

"I'd blacken your fucking eye." She threatened. 

Aemond's eye flickered from her eyes to her lips before crashing his lips onto hers. 

She grunted from surprise, but soon responded. One hand moved to the hand on her throat, the other to the back of Aemond's neck. 

He smirked in the kiss, and wrapped his free hand around her, pulling her flush against his chest. 

She pulled at the hair at the back of his neck, and he let out a groan. 

She barely pulled away with a whispered pant against his lips, "I hate you."

"I know you do, darling," he whispered back. 

His hands quickly began to tug at the laces of her dress. 

Her hands pulled at his tunic. 

And the two hated each other all night.

..............................................................

[camzeecorner]

𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙸𝚂, 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚃, 𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙴₊˚ෆ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑

smut ღ dividers → @bernardsbendystraws ฅ^._.^ฅ

part one here

Nicole was sprawled across her bed, her slim legs kicked up in the air, swinging back and forth with a restless energy as she scrolled through YouTube on her phone. She flipped over onto her stomach, trying to find a comfortable position, but no matter how she moved, that strange feeling just wouldn’t fade away. Frustration bubbled up inside her, and she groaned, burying her head into the soft pillow, hoping to escape the discomfort that lingered.

She was puzzled by the unfamiliar sensation, her mind racing as she tried to decipher what was wrong. Thoughts swirled around, and in a moment of frustration, she mentally slapped her forehead, recalling a faint memory from a month ago. The details were hazy, but the feelings associated with it were beginning to resurface, urging her to confront what she had been trying to ignore.

“and remember, if you ever get that weird feeling down there again..” Matt spoke pointing between her legs, “just use the tricks we showed you okay?”he spoke softly caressing my cheek. I nodded at him frantically.

I slowly sat up, my fingers brushing the screen of my phone as I turned it off, the room falling into a quiet stillness. I leaned back against my pillows, tugging my shorts down a bit for comfort. With a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, I started to mimic the movements Chris and Matt had shown me, but the sensations just didn’t match the intensity I had hoped for. Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I let out a soft whimper, applying more pressure, desperate to find that elusive feeling. But still, nothing changed. I threw my head back against the pillows, silent tears spilling down my cheeks as I grappled with my disappointment.

“What if it doesn’t work?” I pout. Nate got up walking over, sitting next to me. “Then..call us! And we’ll help you again.” He spoke cheerful smiling at me. Matt and Chris nodding along.

I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I opened our group chat. A wave of hesitation washed over me; uncertainty gnawed at my mind, making me question whether I should really reach out. I took a sharp breath, feeling the weight of my decision, and finally began to type, the words flowing from my fingertips as I poured my thoughts into the message.

Best kids to live

colie : hi guys! are you free? Or is this a bad time?

Mattress: hi princess, it’s never a bad time for you

chrizzy : hi doll you okay?

nation: lowkey just shit but I’m chillin, what do u need pretty girl

colie: it’s happening again, I can’t make it stop

nations: what do u mean mama

*chrizzy and mattress emphasized nations message*

Colie: that feeling is back, I tried to rub like you guys said but it’s not helping. It’s really uncomfortable, can you please help me again?

mattress: we’ll be there in 10.

*END OF CONVERSATION*

I sat on my bed, the anticipation building as I patiently waited for the boys to arrive. After what felt like an eternity, about twelve minutes later, the sound of my front doorbell echoed through the house. Jumping up, I quickly slid my shorts back on and made my way down the stairs, my heart racing with excitement. As I reached the living room door and swung it open, I was immediately greeted by the familiar faces of Matt, Chris, and Nate. A warm smile spread across my face as I stepped aside, inviting them in with a welcoming gesture.

“Hi guys!” I chirp happily, my voice bright with excitement. I start walking up the stairs, the sound of their footsteps echoing behind me as they follow closely. Entering my room, I hear the door click shut behind us. Nate, always the energetic one, quickly strides over to me, gently pushing me down onto the bed. The sudden movement catches me off guard, and I let out a surprised gasp. “Don’t worry, mama, we’re gonna make that feeling go away... okay?” he reassures me, settling onto his knees in the same spot he had occupied last time. I gulp, my gaze dropping to the floor as a rush of emotions floods through me, feeling my shorts dampening with a mix of anxiety and desperation.

Matt settled onto my bed, positioning himself close but still leaving a comfortable space between us. Chris took a seat in my chair, which was positioned across from my bed, creating a little distance yet still keeping the atmosphere intimate. They both sat there in silence, their eyes fixed on me, as if I were the main event of a show they were eager for. The stillness hung in the air, charged with anticipation, making me acutely aware of their gaze.

Nate began tracing small circles on my thighs, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through me. I tossed my head back, surrendering to the sensation of his touch. It was strange how the same actions felt so different when they were directed at me; their hands had an electric quality that I found utterly intoxicating. As Nate leaned in closer, a soft whine escaped my lips, and I shook out a breath, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. He started to pepper kisses along the inside of my thigh, each gentle press of his lips igniting a fire within me.

I let out a shaky whine, my breath hitching in my throat. Shutting my eyes tightly, I tugged my lips between my teeth, trying to steady myself. He slid his long fingers to my waistband, the anticipation making my heart race. With deliberate slowness, he tugged them down, maintaining his dominant composure throughout. A soft groan escaped my lips as the cold air hit my skin intensely, sending a jolt through my body that heightened every sensation.

He smirked, glancing up at me with a playful glint in his eyes. “Still the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he spoke lowly, his voice smooth and teasing. I felt my cheeks flush at his words, warmth creeping up as I turned my head to the side, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Thank you…” I murmured softly, barely above a whisper. He responded by blowing lightly against my skin, each breath building more wetness and heightening the tension between us.

I grind my hips up slightly, only to be pushed back down as Nate wrapped his strong arms around them, holding me firmly in place. He sank his head further in, and I felt a rush of anticipation. When his tongue made contact, a cry escaped my lips, raw and unrestrained. “N-Nate…” I whispered, breathless and overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

He hummed against me, keeping his head lowered, his focus entirely on me. His tongue was a masterful force, licking and devouring every inch of me, making sure to savor every drop of sweetness with deliberate care. I reached my hand down, tugging gently at his brown locks, feeling the warmth radiate from him. He groaned against me, pushing his head in deeper, intensifying the sensations. My body responded with soft whines and whimpers of pleasure, each sound a testament to the overwhelming delight coursing through me.

Feeling the strange tightness in my stomach, I instinctively bucked my hips forward, a wave of sensation crashing over me. I panted softly, my head tossing and turning as I tried to process the intensity that was almost overwhelming. “You gonna cum?” Chris spoke lowly, his voice laced with anticipation. I nodded my head quickly, breathless and unable to form a coherent sentence, lost in the moment.

Feeling the orgasm wash over me, I cried out, the intensity of the moment consuming me. I was breathing hard, my chest heaving with each rapid inhale. Sweat dripped down my forehead, causing loose strands of hair to cling to my skin. I whimpered softly as Nate pulled away, his gaze lingering on me. He licked his lips, savoring every drop, a satisfied smile playing on his face. His hand rubbed my thigh gently, and he asked, “You okay, mama?” “Uh huh,” I replied softly, still catching my breath. I blinked a few times, wiping away the tears that had escaped, feeling a mix of satisfaction swirling within me.

Nate shifted from his spot as I watched Chris stand up, his movements deliberate and confident. Nate settled into the chair that Chris had just vacated, a knowing look passing between them. Chris walked over to me, positioning himself between my legs, his presence both comforting and electrifying. He rested his hand on my knee, gently rubbing it in soothing circles. “Think you’re good for two more rounds?” Chris asked, his gaze flickering between me and Matt, a hint of mischief in his eyes. Excitement bubbled within me at the thought of feeling even better, and I nodded eagerly. “Yes,” I replied, a smile breaking across my face as I giggled softly.

“Okay…” he spoke lowly, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed before sinking down to the floor. His hands began to work magic, gently rubbing circles on me that made me shudder with anticipation. He maneuvered his fingers in ways that sent me spiraling into another universe, each touch perfect, hitting every spot I desperately craved. “This might hurt, okay? Just let me know if you want me to stop, alright?” I gulped lightly, a wave of nervousness washing over me. “O-okay…” I managed to speak, my voice hoarse and trembling.

Feeling small rubs on my shoulder, I turned my head to meet Matt’s soft gaze, his eyes filled with reassurance. “It’ll be okay, just relax… the pain will be gone quick,” he spoke in a calming voice, and instantly, I felt a wave of comfort wash over me, easing my tension.

Turning my attention back to Chris, I sucked in a breath as I suddenly felt a finger entering me slowly. I shut my eyes at the unexpected pain, a soft whimper escaping my lips. “It’s okay, baby…” I heard Chris coo softly, his voice soothing. Matt ran his fingers through my hair, the gentle caress helping me relax into his touch. “O-oh,” I breathed out, feeling his finger move back and forth, slow and steady. Gradually, some of the pain was replaced by pleasure, and I couldn’t help but groan at the new sensation.

“M’gonna add another, okay?” Chris spoke, looking up to meet my eyes, his expression full of desire. I nodded at him, releasing a shaky breath as anticipation coursed through me.

He sank another finger in, stretching me lightly, and I rolled my hips upwards, feeling the pleasure build within me. I could feel his fingers curl, plunging in and out faster, each thrust gaining speed and intensity. I squeezed around him, relishing the new sensation that coursed through me, too intoxicating to resist. “O-oh my…” I breathed out, feeling my legs trembling softly beneath the wave of pleasure. I felt Chris add his thumb to the mix, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on my soft pink clit that sent shivers down my spine.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat, causing me to choke out a moan that echoed in the air. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming me completely, so much so that I couldn’t focus on anything else. I tuned everything out, zeroing in on the exquisite sensation of Chris's fingers working their magic. I began to move my body against his, instinctively matching his rhythm, lost in the intoxicating dance of our connection.

“You gonna cum baby? Hm.. you gonna make a mess on my fingers.”Chris said hungrily, locking his intense gaze onto mine, igniting a fire within me. I grunted as my eyes began to roll back, my mouth parting slightly in a gasp. “Eyes on me,” Chris commanded, his voice firm as he softly slapped my cheek, bringing me back to the moment. I whimpered, feeling the pressure build inside me. Then, he began to move at an ungodly speed, pushing me to arch my back, a scream escaping my lips in the process. “C-chri-chris!” I cried out, desperately clutching onto his arm, lost in the overwhelming sensations.

I came hard, feeling myself clenching and squeezing his fingers. My eyes rolled back, making my vision fuzzy. Feelings his fingers slow, he began to stiff his movements allowing me to ride out my high. Slowly pulling his fingers out before sucking them clean.

“So fucking sweet” he mumbled.

“My turn!” Matt exclaimed, laughter bubbling up as he jumped to his feet. It wasn’t long before I felt the familiar rush of excitement wash over me again. Matt sauntered over, looking down at me with a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m gonna fuck you so good…” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “Fuck me?” I asked, confusion knitting my brows together just as I felt a sharp slap on my pulsing pussy, making me shriek in surprise. “Don’t say that…” Matt warned, pointing a finger at me with a mock-serious expression. I nodded slowly, surrendering to his playful commands, the anticipation swirling around us.

Matt started by lifting his shirt off his head, the fabric gliding over his skin before he tossed it casually toward my door. With a confident grin, he began unbuckling his belt, the metal clinking softly as he pulled it free from the latch. He swiftly unbuttoned his pants, the sound of the button popping echoing in the room. In one fluid motion, he yanked them down, stepping out of them with an air of nonchalance, leaving a trail of excitement in his wake.

I glanced over his body, taking in every detail. It was stunning; he was truly a piece of artwork. His faint abs were subtly defined, and his tattooed arm was a canvas of intricate designs, all covered in deep black ink. A chuckle above me pulled my attention up, and I found Matt grinning down at me. “You like what you see, doll?” he teased. I nodded slowly, my eyes trailing down his body until they landed on a hard-looking lump covered by his black boxers. “What’s that?” I asked, moving my hand up to touch it gently. I heard Matt stifle a moan, his breath hitching as he sucked in a sharp inhale. “Shit,” he murmured, the tension in the air thickening. “Mm..that’s my cock..” my eyes stuck to his cock, I tilt my head to the side showing my confusion. “What’s that?” I asked. “It’s like the boy version of a vagina” he spoke calmly. “You wanna touch it baby?” I nod my head fast smiling up at Matt.

He spun around swiftly, directing his attention to Nate and Chris. With a quick nod, he beckoned them over before turning back to me. “You wanna touch theirs too?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. I nodded eagerly, a smile breaking across my face. “Yes, please,” I replied sweetly, hoping my polite request would earn me the permission I desired.

“Go on... take my boxers off,” Matt said in a chilling voice that sent a shiver down my spine. I reached up, my fingers trembling slightly as I tugged at the fabric of his briefs, pulling them down slowly. Matt exhaled sharply, tossing his head back in a moment of surrender. “Shit,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a mix of surprise and pleasure. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the sight in front of me. “You like it?” Nate asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched my reaction. “Yes,” I replied, my voice steady, not daring to look away. I gently ran my hand up and down, feeling the tension in Matt’s body as he let out a deep groan.

Pulling my hand away, I turn to nate and Chris seeing them already with their own cocks in the hands. They were all so big. I reach up pressing my palms against them both. “Fuck” Chris groaned shutting his eyes, followed by Nathan moaning.

“Alright, mama, enough touching...” Matt said, his tone both playful and commanding. Nate and Chris strolled around the bed, settling against my wall, their gazes fixed on me with an intensity that made me feel like the center of their attention, as if I were a feast laid out before them. Matt gently pushed me down, his hands rubbing against me in a way that sent a thrill through my body, blending teasing and tenderness in the most tantalizing way.

I whine softly at his touch, exhaling gently as a wave of sensation washes over me. His hand finds mine, interlocking our fingers in a firm yet comforting grip. “This might sting a little, squeeze my hand,” he murmurs softly, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that makes my heart race. He positions himself, aligning his tip with my entrance, and as he slowly moves in, I instantly feel the stretch, the pressure making me squeeze his hand tightly. I breathe in and out slowly, trying to steady my breath amidst the overwhelming sensations. “Let me know when to move, okay baby?” he prompts, and I nod, focusing on getting used to the feeling before I finally signal him to start moving.

Starting with slow thrusts, he moves deliberately, savoring each moment. “You okay, princess?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. “Y-yea... you can speed up,” I reply softly, my heart racing. As I feel his hips gain momentum, the rhythm intensifies, his body hitting against mine with increasing force. After a few minutes of teasing slowness, I begin to whimper lowly, lost in the sensation. The sound of Matt’s skin slapping against mine sends my mind spiraling, making everything around me fade into a blissful haze.

“S-shit..taking my cock good” Matt groaned above me, the sound vibrating through the air as his movements quickened. It felt as though he were reaching deep inside me, a sensation that made my stomach flutter. He leaned his head back, sucking in a breath, his pleasure palpable. His hand reached down to rub my puffy clit, the gentle touch sending jolts of electricity through my body, making me twitch involuntarily. “Oh Matt... feels so good,” I breathed out, completely lost in the moment.

“Yea? You gonna cum?” I nod my head, arching my back up into the air. I whine loudly, the pleasure taking over my body. I begin grinding my body against Matt’s adding to the pleasures running through my body. I felt like I was in heaven. Hearing his whimpers and moans making my head spin. My body was shaking uncontrollably under Matt, his thrust getting sloppier. “Want you to cum s’bad baby.. can you do that?” He asked as his hips still pounded into mine. “Y-yes” I speak, I could feel the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.

Looking to the side i noticed Chris and Nate. They were playing with their cocks, heads thrown back and soft noises leaving their mouth. I loved the sight, feeling heat rise to my face. “Yea you like that? You like seeing your friends get off to seeing you fucked?” Matt asked me with a smug look of his face. My lips were puffy and covered by my own spit. My eyes rolling into the back of my head.

I could feel the tension in my stomach, I was so close. So so close. I just needed more, I craved more. I’ve never felt this good before, and I was addicted to it. The pleasure was so intense I began crying. Feeling the tears leak onto the mattress. “Wanna cum so bad” I pleaded, my voice sounding strained. “Cum on this dick baby.” Feeling my legs shake, I tossed my body around. “Oh mat.. Matt Matt Matt” I shouted as I came hard. The white liquid spilling onto Matt, he came shortly after with a long groan. “Fuck..” I heard Matt pant. Feeling my body shake, Matt pulled out of me slowly. My cum oozing from me. “Shit” Chris spoke, his cum flying onto his chest. Nate was soon to finish, his hot sticky cum landing on his lower stomach.

“How was that for your first time baby?” Matt asked me tucking strands of hair behind my ear. I smiled loosely. “Felt amazing” I said tired.

Tags - @shaquilles-0atmeal @midsturn @sturniolo-girl hope you like!

[forsoobado137]

🍩donutdaddy Follow

I was researching the American Revolution for my final and came across this gem.

🦄uminamina Follow

I need to see that fucking letter or I will die unfulfilled.

🦍caraismogging Follow

Alfred when Jefferson wont let him send his illiterate letter with doodles of toy soldiers to the British head of state

#nation people #npusa #np archives #holy shit nothing has changed

8,846 Notes

🥬my_cabbagessss Follow

🧚🏾‍♂️mywifeleftme12235 Follow

🏴timeforhallowseve-deactivated

love how confidently wrong you are op

🥬my_cabbagessss Follow

You write Russia x Stalin fics your opinion is worthless to me

🧊ivanbragnskymybeloved Follow

WHAT THE FUCK

🚀brainblast64 Follow

They even wrote a Russian translation. I love that they made it accessible to Russian people while still having the audacity to write a fucking Russia x Stalin fic without any irony whatsoever.

#nation people #nprussia #ivan braginsky #i need a lobotomy now

7,041 Notes

🎨callmepicasso Follow

Okay put a finger down if you were visiting family in Rome and while at a restaurant you saw the NP of Italy walk in and then he sat down at the table behind you and your grandmother who is kind of senile whispered to you about her secret steamy affair with Veneziano and you said "okay nonna" and a few minutes later the NP of Italy turned around and shouted "ALESSIA?!" and the two spent the rest of the night catching up in front of your family.

🎭dwugdimmadome Follow

🎹moonlightdenada Follow

What's up with nation people rizzing up all of our grandmothers?!

🍄champchampi Follow

In my country (France) almost everyone at my school have a story about the NP getting freaky with one of their relatives.

🧅beterheys Follow

OH MY GOD ITS ON MY DASH IM FUCKING CRYING

15,233 Notes