#dark!drabble

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wherever You Are

Sequel to Come Out, Come Out

Warnings: noncon and violent elements. Warnings are not exhaustive. Please curate your reading accordingly.

Summary: Steve comes home.

As always, please, please, please, send me your thoughts and feedback, horny and otherwise! Love you all so much 💗

A sudden vertigo overcomes you, sweeping you out of your static sleep. You blink away the shroud of drowsiness and greet the man above you with a vacant stare. Your breath hitches as you turn fully onto your back to face Steve.

“We doing this again?” He stands straight and crosses his thick arms over his bulging chest, “the hiding?”

“Sorry, Captain,” you push yourself up, bending your legs in front of you as you keep your heels on the blanket below you, half of it trailing behind you under the bed.

“I don’t like you sleeping under there. You know that.”

“I do, sir, but…” You bat your lashes and pout. You can’t tell him who you are truly hiding from. “I don’t like sleeping alone in the bed.”

He tilts his head and the stony edge leaves his jaw. He nods and bends over you, gripping you around your sides as he lifts you to your feet. He steadies you before him before he lets you go, fingertips brushing up your nightgown.

There’s a cut above his cheek and smear of dry blood down his stubbled throat that trails onto his dark collar. There’s a rent in the fabric across his chest, another deep along his torso, that one reddened and tattered. He cradles your chin as you eyes drift down to his wounds and he forces you to look at him.

“Starshine, I’m alright,” he assures you as his thumb caresses your cheek, “go get the kit.”

“Yes, Captain,” you touch his hand gently, angling your head up as he leans in. You give him a kiss, breathing in the scent of blood and sweat. You part and give a meek smile before you spin on your heel.

You flit off to find the silver chest stored under the bathroom counter. You hear him just through the doorway as he starts to strip away his layers. The clink of buckles and rustle of fabric underlines the silence. 

As you return to the bedroom, he sits on the bench of your vanity. The one he proudly reminds you he built himself. He still wears his grimy boots and stained pants, the dark blue fabric dusted with some unknown soot.

He sighs as he pushes his head back and stretches his neck. He winces as you see how it tugs at the shallow slice along his abdomen. His firm muscles draw taut and his broad chest rises and falls. Along his left peck, a purpled welt stretches up to his shoulder but the skin remains unbroken. 

He sets his head straight and watches your approach. You lay out the kit and flip the top open. You flick away the last of your fatigue with a flutter of your eyelashes. You take out the alcohol first and set to cleaning the cut along his stomach first.

“It’s going to sting,” you warn, just as you do every time, even though you know he barely feels it. 

“Worth it,” he purrs as he brushes your hip, welcoming you closer as you set to work.

When you finish with the bloody slice, placing a bandage neatly over it, you move on to his hands. You only just notice his split knuckles. He gives you each in turn, letting you clean them and wrap a few fingers. 

You finish with a dab of witch hazel over his bruises. He watches you intently. You’re overly aware of his attention as his hands wander along the silky fabric of your nightgown. As you tidy up, he lifts the hem and leans around to get a glimpse of your ass. He gives a tiny spank before he sits back, resting his elbows on the edge of your vanity as he looks you up and down.

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing his legs wide.

“Captain,” you eke out as you close up the kit and dump the peel wrappers and cotton balls in the small bin beside the vanity.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, starshine,” he says, “as much for myself as you, you know?”

“I know, Captain,” you face him again.

He nods curtly, wordless order. You walk around his knee and stand before him, just in the vee of his legs. He pats his thigh, his eyes slipping down to the gesture and back up again. You sit obediently on his leg as he brings an arm forward, setting his hand against the small of your back.

“You missed me,” he slides his other elbow off the vanity and sits straight, reaching to your hand and dragging it up over your lap.

“Yes, Captain.”

He lifts your hand and places it against his jaw, guiding it along the thick trim of his beard. He leans into your touch and lets you go reluctantly. You keep your fingers moving, petting him as he hums in delight.

“Give Captain a kiss,” his voice grinds like gravel.

You lean in and press your lips to his. It’s easier now. Before, everything you did was so mechanical but you know better now. It only makes him mad when he sees your reluctance.

His tongue pokes out, gliding along your lips. You let him in, angling your head as he invades your mouth. His hand creeps up your back and he braces the back of your head. He locks you in a hungry kiss, snarling as if he might devour you whole.

When he pulls away, you’re breathless and dizzy. His eyes are dark pits you could fall into. His hand falls to the back of your neck as his other dances along the edge of your nightgown. He gives a small tug as his eyes drift down your body.

“Stand up,” he orders.

You stand.

He leads you without a word. Turning you to face him and knocking apart your feet with his boot. He draws you closer until you stand over his leg. He slips his hands beneath your nightgown, raising it above your pelvis as he frames your hips. He forces you down to straddle his thick thigh, a small gasp escaping you as you wince. You’re still tender…

“I missed you, baby girl,” he lets a hand fall down to your ass, the other keeping a firm hold on your hip, “I want to feel how much you missed me.”

He rocks you once. Pull your pelvis forward then urging it back. The friction of your cunt on his thigh sparks a thrill that ripples down your thighs. You nearly squeal as the sensation reminds you of the rawness nestled between your legs. You repeat the motion. Mimic how he moved you. You tilt against his thigh, another babble trickling from your lips.

You trail your other hand up his arm, watching how the tendons in his arm react, bicep rounding as you grasp his shoulder.

His hand clamps around your hips as the other brushes down to knead the tender flesh of your thigh. You let out a willowy breath as he leans in and hovers his lips before yours. You kiss him, heeding another mute order. You have to know how to read his body as much as his words.

You roll your hips, grinding against him as your fingers graze along his beard. You push your hand back to twine into the tails of his hair. His need melts into you as the pressure blooms beneath you. You squeak and moan, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

You ride him without restraint. The bench creaks below his weight and yours. He groans into your mouth as your tongues meet in desperation. Your legs quiver and burn as you chase your release. It’s close yet so far away. 

Gasp and pull your mouth from his, puffing wildly as lifts his chin and lets out a gritty growl. You dip your head down and kiss his neck, nipping at him as you clutch the strands of his hair and dig your nails into the firm muscles of his shoulder.

“That’s it, I can almost feel it, baby girl, hmm, you gonna cum for your captain?”

“Mmhmm,” you purr as you ply frantic pecks along his throat, “yes… cap… tain.”

You rut spastically as the swell of fire roars through you. You quake as the slickness between your leg smears along your cunt and onto his pant leg. Your pleasure spills over as it spreads to the creases of your thighs.

You slow, little by little, shame coursing anew in your veins as your orgasm recedes. You still and lift your head, wavering just slightly as you look Steve in the eyes. You drag your hand down to his chest.

“You came, didn’t you, starshine?” He asks with a taunting smirk.

“Yes, Captain, I did,” you answer and turn your face down in embarrassment.

His fingertips tickle along your thigh and up to your ass. He feels along your nightgown, almost curiously and follows the curve of your chest up to the base of the strap. He glides the thin string down your shoulder, then the other. 

He pulls down the top of your nightie and fondles your chest with his large hand. Your nipple react at once and goosebumps rise across your skin. You tremble and look down to watch him grope you.

“You’re… sensitive.”

“Captain,” you breathe cluelessly.

“Were you a good girl?”

“Good?”

“You didn’t touch yourself, did you?” He pinches your nipple and you yelp.

“No, Captain, never,” you whimper.

“No?” He tweaks the other and you squeeze his arm, “so why are you so… tender?”

“Captain?” Your eyes round, “I swear, I didn’t–”

“Hmmm,” his hum undercuts your protest and he clucks and he smirks, “Buck did say you were a good girl. Maybe he was a bad boy, huh?”

You gape at him. He’s mocking you. He knows why. He knows everything. You look up to the corner where the lens is. He sees it all.

“He won’t have to be bad if you don’t hide from him,” he bounces your tit in his hand, “you know he likes to play games.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And you know I don’t like it when you make me look bad,” he flicks your nipple with his fingernail and you yelp as you cover it with your hand, “when you act like you have no discipline.”

“I didn’t– I was scared, Steve– Captain,” you panic and pull your hand away from your chest to press to his, “please, Captain, I was only afraid.”

He growls as his throat bobs. Thoughts storm in his eyes as they bore into you. He grasps the bunched fabric of your nightgown and rips it all the way to your waist.

“You will behave this time,” he sneers, “won’t you, starshine?”

“Yes, Captain.” This time?

“Go put something pretty on,” he grips your hips and slides you down his thigh, “he’ll be here soon.”

You don’t argue. You stand and let the nightgown fall to your feet. His eyes rove up and down and he gives a noise of approval.

“Or maybe, you should stay like that, baby girl,” he taunts, “you’ve never look more delicious than you do right now.”

[eydi-andrius]

I MEAN HEAR ME OUT -

Just imagine Aemond being so soft, gentle and kind towards you. Then, one day, your loved ones betrayed you. It left you hurt, in pain and scarred. He, who did not take kindly towards the disrespect bestowed your way, convinced you to fight back and take revenge. Little did you know that in his mind, once you agree, he will burn down to ashes those who hurt you. He is ready to dance with you, the rumba of death, atop flesh and bones. His crown made from gold and terror, while yours were polished, cleaned from blood and tears of the orphaned. You will shed no tears ever again from betrayal. He will make sure of that.

[biwritesfics]

Broken Halos

An 18+ Tattoo Artist Steve story

Steve Rogers x Fem!reader 1k words

No use of y/n, the reader’s nickname is Angel.

This bit is pretty PG just a bit of language

*******************✩*******************

I fidget with my bike lock staring apprehensively at the tattoo and Piercing shop. Shield’s Tattoos and piercings was the store I had walked into on my eighteenth birthday clutching my ID and a 50 dollar bill. That’s when I met Nat. She pierced my ears and chatted with me over sodas. I came to her for the next five, filling my ears top to bottom on both sides. She had been begging me to get a tattoo but Nat wasn’t an artist and she was the only person I let stick needles in my body, well until now.

I had a meeting with Nat’s friend Steve to talk about a tattoo. He was fresh off army service give or take about a month he spent soul searching on an oil rig in the artic. Girls have gap years in Europe. I guess burly men have that. Nat had sung his praises and reassured me a million times that he was great but here I was standing outside the shop quaking like a leaf. They could probably see me so my fear of looking like an idiot outweighed my fear of strange men and prolonged exposure to needles.

The bell above the door rings as I enter. The shop smells like incense and cleaning solution, an aggressive combination that I had somehow grown to love. Nat turns the corner and hurries to wrap me in a warm hug. “God I can't believe you actually came! Your latest has healed nicely!” She refers to the small stud on my nose. I squeezed her tightly. “Yeah, the swelling went down in no time.”

“You must be Angel.” The deep voice is attached to a gorgeous statue of a man. He has baby blues that would make just about any woman North of the Mississippi weak in the knees. I blush before speaking. “It’s not my name but it's what everyone calls me. You must be Steve?” He nods and grins. That'd be me, sweetheart, wanna come back and take a look at some sketches I did?”

He escorts me to the back with a big hand resting between my shoulder blades, gently guiding me. “So I talked to Nat a bit and read the notes you sent so I did a few sketches. Some are more simple than others, just look and see what you like and I can make tweaks.” He slides a sketchbook across the table as I sit down. I flip through it gently admiring the sketches. There were flowers, books, even a bicycle but none of those caught my eye. It was the very last sketch that I knew was it.

“It’s a-“ “Seraphim” I finished, interrupting him in my excitement. “Sorry,” I apologize, embarrassed that I just blurted it out. “No no it’s okay I'm just happy you recognized what it was,” Steve reassures me. “It’s gorgeous, what placement do you think would be best?” I trace my fingers over the lines utterly in love with the image. “It’d make a pretty awesome back piece. I could really let it take up the room it deserves but it would take more than one appointment.” He says this hesitantly as if not wanting to force me into a commitment.

“I don't mind if you don't?” I tell him, seeing his face would be a bonus to go along with the tattoo. It was like a free art viewing just being in his presence. “Sounds like we've got a deal Angel.” His hand is warm when I shake it. “Clint will talk about billing later but I'm not worried about it. We can start today if you'd like? I just have to get a stencil going.” I nod happily. “That sounds good, thank you Steve.” “Anytime sweetheart”

I end up sitting/laying on the tattoo chair, my unclasped bra being the only thing reserving my dignity. Steve gently applies the stencil to my back. “Alright Angel this isn't gonna be horrible but it ain't gonna be pleasant either so let me know if you need a break. I'm sure you'll do good.” His Brooklynn accent comes out a bit thicker than usual. “Alright” I prepare myself for the buzzing and the pain but once the needle touches my skin it’s actually not the worst.

“So you from around here Sweetheart?” I laugh but try and keep it restrained because of the needle on my back. “No, I'm from a tiny town in Vermont up near Canada. I ran to New York the moment I turned 18. How about you? Brooklyn right? “Born and bred a couple blocks from here. Vermont has the leaves thing right?” I chuckle. “Yeah, leaf peeping when all the tourists come in. My Dad always hated it, he said if they were coming to see God’s handiwork they could bother to come into God’s house. He's a priest so..”

Steve sucks air in through his teeth. “I understand must've been tough with a priest as your old man.” “You could definitely say that. He was more into God’s wrath than his love and forgiveness,” My voice comes out smaller and sadder than I mean it to. Steve’s voice darkens. “I’d like to show him some of my wrath” It was aggressive but it warmed my heart. “I think I'd like to see that,” I laugh. “Just say the word doll, can’t waste all this military training just cause I'm discharged.

“Special Forces right?” I can't see but I think he nods. “105th infantry then special forces. We were up in all the Europe Russia shit before it exploded up there.” “Thank you, really” “Eh just doin my part to fix the shitty system Doll. I think we're at a good stopping point. I'll get you all cleaned up here.” He sanitizers the area again and leaves me to get dressed. I throw my top back on but before I look at the progress on my back. It's gorgeous.

When I walk out Steve is at the front desk with Clint. “Hey Angel, I see Nat finally convinced you to get tatted.” I smile. “Yep she wore me down, how are Laura and the kids?” “Good, the boys are growing like weeds. Lila's getting college mail. She’s sixteen I feel like I’ll blink and she’ll be 21” I smile sympathetically. “Well the only one that’s turning 21 is Angellll!” Kate Clint’s niece singsongs walking out from the back carrying a box of cleaning supplies.

I groan. “You guys promised not to make a big deal of it.” Steve raises an eyebrow. Nat who was sitting silently in the corner grins. “Angel likes to think that her birthday doesn’t deserve a big fuss but if it’s up to anyone at this shop it’s gonna be a big deal and it’s gonna be on Saturday.” I glare at Nat. “You said just drinks.” She walks over, putting her arm around me. “I said there’d be drinks not that’d it be just drinks” I sigh and turn to Steve. “Well then if you’d like to join the madness you’re invited” “It’s a date” he replies.

[bunny-jpeg]

john price would trap you with a baby. no questions asked. he knew the years were catching up to him. he knew that wouldn't be much longer before he couldn't pass on the price genes.

he felt bad when he masturbated, felt like he was wasting his boys. spurts of hot cum down his large shaft wishing that it was inside a pretty little things smaller cunt. his hand was too rough even with lubrication. he needed something with supple flesh that he could sink his teeth into and a wet pussy to stuff full. he wanted to feel himself impregnating someone.

that was where you came in.

you felt amazing, sex with you was something else. the way you were like a bunny when you rode his cock. you bounced on him, not slowing down until he wrung at least three orgasms out of you. he found it endearing that you could take him. and while cowgirl was fun and missionary felt classic.

if price wanted to get you pregnant then, he knew that doggy style would be the best course of action. sadly, that position was a little more difficult given your size difference. price the bear and his little cub, those weren't just terms of endearment. he was burly, hairy, but you were so much shorter that he couldn't easily slip into you. but things could always be modified.

he smothered you under him as you laid on the bed with your legs spread and price was on top of you with his cock invading your slick entrance. the feeling was different and the weight on top of you only added to the pleasure.

his mind was focused, as he worked himself into you. he slid in easily, little resistance from you. your pussy was greedy for him, not that price could blame you. you were just so perfect for him. he shaped you into the perfect thing for him. you were his angel, the sweetest fruit, the woman he wanted to carry his child. if you liked it or not.

thoughts of you dark puffy nipples, the waddle in your step, the complaints of back pain. how your body changed because of him, he marked you in a way that no other man could. price boys grew strong and were a handful both in the womb and out. hungry boys too, but price would happily massage your fat tits to make sure there was more than enough milk for his boys. might have a little taste himself, see what all the fuss was. the heavy milk on his tongue as he fucked his pretty wife.

no need to go out and find a job. price's got enough to make sure that your wallet and your womb were packed full. no need to worry your little head, just make sure the babies are taken care of and price will do all the thinking in the relationship. he knew your dream was to see your diploma on the wall, but he thought that a family photo would be much better.

hard to complete your degree when your pregnant belly doesn't fit in the lecture hall seat or it was feeding time for john jr. there was nowhere for you to nurse his hefty son and you'd in the end miss too much class because price would be keeping you at home to start on the next one.

"that's it, doll. that's my girl. she suckin' me right in. she know what she wants and she's takin' it. made just for, huh, petal?" he growled as he pressed into you further, his cock didn't slip out. he fucked you feverishly.

he felt you tremble as you came not once, but twice, back to back. price continued to fuck you, ruin your pretty little folds and let him feel as much as he could of your sweet sex. you felt amazing, only pussy price would want. he fucked you roughly with his hands pressed into the covers on either side of your head. you were too blissed out by the time he finished inside of you that you didn't even ask for him to pull out.

a good wife took every drop.

he soon after pulled his cock out, the sight of his cum sticking to your slick pussy lips with most of his seed inside of you. made his cock peek at attention once more. "there she is." he purred, "messy girl." he tipped your hips up and held them in his large hands. he dipped between your legs and played with your pussy. something to distract you while his cum slid into the back of your pussy.

now be good, and get pregnant <3

a/n: i don't know what came over me... i'm sorry

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

❛ YOU AND RAFE TAKE HONEY PACKETS BUT HE CAVES FIRST ❜

girlfriend¡reader . . . rafe cameron

“Okay, but you guys have to hear this,” Mia said, swirling her wine before taking a dramatic sip. “Last weekend, Aiden and I tried those aphrodisiac honeypacks—you know, the ones they’re always hyping up on TikTok? Holy shit, it was insane.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your glass down on the table with a soft clink. “Insane how?” you asked, curiosity piqued. Beside you, Lila, who’d been scrolling her phone absentmindedly, perked up, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Mia grinned, leaning forward like she was about to spill a state secret. “Okay, so you know those little packets you can get at sketchy gas stations or online? They’re like honey mixed with some herbal stuff—supposedly gets your blood pumping or whatever. We each took one, and I swear to God, within twenty minutes, we were clawing at each other like animals. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like every touch felt electric, and I couldn’t think about anything except jumping him.”

Lila burst out laughing, her voice bright and sharp. “Oh my God, that’s fucking hot. Did you plan it, or just wing it?”

“Totally spontaneous,” Mia said, her cheeks flushing slightly—not from embarrassment, but from the memory. “We barely made it to the bedroom. I’m telling you, it’s like someone turned the dial up to eleven on every nerve in my body.”

You shifted in your seat, the wicker creaking beneath you, a slow heat creeping up your neck as you pictured it. Rafe flashed into your mind—his broad shoulders, the cocky tilt of his smirk, the way his hands felt when they gripped your hips.

You’d been dating him long enough to know he’d be game for something like this, but the thought of him losing control? That was a whole different level of intriguing.

“Wait,” you said, cutting through their giggles. “So it’s not just hype? It actually works?”

“Works?” Mia echoed, incredulous. “Babe, I’m saying it’s dangerous. Aiden was begging me to touch him by the end of the night, and he’s usually the one playing it cool. You should try it with Rafe. Bet he’d lose his mind.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming. “Oh, he totally would. Rafe’s got that whole ‘I’m in charge’ vibe, but I bet you could break him with this. Make it a game or something—see who caves first.”

You chewed your lip, the idea taking root like a seed in fertile soil. The thought of Rafe—your Rafe, all sharp edges and simmering intensity—reduced to a needy mess because of you? It sent a shiver down your spine, one that had nothing to do with the cooling evening air. “Okay,” you said slowly, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’m in. Next weekend.”

Mia clapped her hands together, delighted. “Yes! Report back. I need details.”

. . .

“Hey,” you said casually, tilting your head to look up at him. His blue eyes flicked down to meet yours, a faint smirk already playing on his lips like he knew you were up to something.

“What’s up, princess?” he drawled, his voice low and rough, the kind that always made your stomach flip.

You shifted, sitting up a little straighter, your knee brushing against his thigh. “So, Mia was telling me about this thing she tried with Aiden. Those aphrodisiac honeypacks—you heard of ‘em?”

Rafe’s smirk deepened, his brows lifting slightly. “Those horny honey things? Yeah, I’ve seen ‘em around. Why? You wanna get freaky?” He chuckled, but there was a spark in his eyes, a flicker of interest that told you he was already hooked.

“Maybe,” you teased, running your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his T-shirt. “But I was thinking we make it fun. Like a game. We each take one, no touching allowed, and the first one to cave loses. Winner gets bragging rights—or whatever else they want.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that predatory glint he got when he was intrigued. “You think you can outlast me, huh?” His voice dropped an octave, thick with challenge. “Baby, I’m made of steel. You’re gonna be begging me to touch you in ten minutes flat.”

You laughed, the sound light but edged with defiance. “Oh, please. You’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me half the time. I give it five minutes before you’re on your knees.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his smirk turning into something darker, hungrier. He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’re on, sweetheart. Next weekend. But when I win, you’re gonna owe me big.”

The heat of his breath against your skin sent a thrill through you, but you pulled back, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile. “We’ll see about that.”

. . .

The following Saturday night, the air in Rafe’s bedroom was thick with anticipation. You sat cross-legged on his bed, the navy comforter rumpled beneath you, wearing nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts and a pair of lacy black panties. Rafe stood across the room, leaning against the dresser, shirtless in a pair of gray sweats that hung low on his hips. His chest was broad and tan, a faint sheen of sweat already glistening in the warm light.

On the nightstand sat two small golden packets, their shiny foil catching the glow of the lamp. You picked one up, turning it over in your hands, the weight of it surprisingly light for something that promised so much chaos. “Last chance to back out,” you said, smirking at him as you tore the corner open.

Rafe snorted, grabbing his own packet. “Not a chance. You’re going down, baby.” He ripped his open with his teeth, the gesture primal and a little too hot for your liking, and squeezed the thick, amber honey onto his tongue. You followed suit, the sweet, herbal taste coating your mouth, a faint warmth spreading down your throat as you swallowed.

For the first few minutes, it was all bravado. Rafe paced the room like a caged animal, cracking his knuckles, his smirk intact. “Feeling anything yet?” he asked, voice cocky as he flexed his arms, the muscles rippling under his skin.

You shrugged, playing it cool even as a subtle heat began to bloom in your chest. “Nope. You?”

He shook his head, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Nah.”

Ten minutes in, the air shifted. The warmth in your body intensified, sinking lower, pooling between your thighs. Your skin prickled, every brush of the T-shirt against your nipples sending a jolt through you. You shifted on the bed, pressing your legs together, trying to ignore the growing ache.

Across the room, Rafe stopped pacing. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling faster. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands sticking to his forehead, and when his eyes met yours, they were dark—pupils blown wide, a storm brewing behind them.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. He leaned back against the dresser, gripping the edge so hard his knuckles whitened. “This shit’s no joke.”

You bit your lip, the sight of him unraveling doing dangerous things to you. “What’s wrong, Rafe? Cracking already?” Your voice was teasing, but it came out breathier than you intended, the need starting to seep through your composure.

He laughed, but it was strained, jagged. “You wish. I could bend you over right now and still win this.” But his hands stayed glued to the dresser, and his hips shifted—just a fraction, enough to tell you he was fighting the same war you were.

Fifteen minutes, and the room felt like a furnace. Your pulse hammered in your ears, your body screaming for contact. The air smelled of him—sweat and musk and that damn cologne—and it was driving you insane. You curled your fingers into the comforter, nails digging in as you watched Rafe.

He was a mess now, his sweats tented embarrassingly, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack. His eyes raked over you, lingering on the way the T-shirt rode up your thighs, and he groaned—a low, guttural sound that hit you like a freight train.

“Goddamn it, baby,” he rasped, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re killing me. Just—fuck—just let me touch you. Please.”

You smirked, though it took everything in you to hold it together. “That sounds like caving, Rafe.”

He growled, stepping forward, then stopping himself, fists balled at his sides. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he panted, his voice raw, desperate. “Look at you, sitting there all smug. I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you? Bet you’re dying for it just as bad.”

He wasn’t wrong. Your thighs trembled, slickness pooling in your panties, but you weren’t about to admit it. “Guess you’ll never know unless you lose,” you shot back, voice shaking but defiant.

Twenty minutes, and Rafe snapped—or tried to. He crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands hovering an inch from your thighs. “Fuck it,” he breathed, his voice wrecked. “I lose. I fucking lose, okay? Just—please, baby, I need you. I’m going crazy here.”

You tilted your head, savoring the power, the way he looked up at you like a man unhinged. “Not yet,” you said, voice low and deliberate, your hand reaching out to graze his cheek—just a featherlight touch, enough to make him shudder. “You can wait a little longer.”

His eyes widened, a mix of shock and pure torment flashing across his face. “You’re kidding,” he choked out, his hands twitching, aching to close the distance. “Baby, I’m dying here. You can’t do this to me.”

“Oh, I can,” you replied, leaning back on your elbows, letting the T-shirt ride up higher, exposing more of your thighs, the edge of your panties just visible. His gaze dropped, and he let out a strangled sound, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. “You said you’re made of steel, right? Prove it.”

Twenty-five minutes, and Rafe was a wreck. He’d slumped back onto his heels, hands dragging through his hair, sweat dripping down his chest. His cock strained against his sweats, a dark spot forming where he was leaking, and his breathing was so ragged it sounded like he’d run a marathon. “You’re evil,” he muttered, voice hoarse, his eyes locked on you with a mix of reverence and desperation. “Fucking evil, you know that?”

You shifted again, letting one leg fall open slightly, giving him a glimpse that made his jaw drop. “Maybe,” you said, smirking. “But you love it.”

Thirty minutes, and he was begging—really begging. “Please, baby,” he whispered, crawling closer, his hands trembling as they hovered over your knees. “I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. I’ll do anything you want, just let me touch you. I’m fucking losing it.”

You held his gaze, letting the tension stretch one agonizing second longer, then nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, victorious. “You lose.”

. . .

His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard while his other hand kneaded the opposite side. The sensation—amplified by the honey packets still coursing through you—had you arching into him, a sharp cry escaping your lips as your nails dug into his scalp.

“Rafe—slow down,” you gasped, half-laughing, but he shook his head, his teeth grazing your skin as he moved lower, kissing and biting a frantic path down your stomach.

“No chance,” he growled, hooking his fingers into your panties and dragging them down your legs in one swift motion. He paused then, just for a second, staring at you—spread out, glistening, trembling—and the look in his eyes was feral, reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were real. “You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, almost to himself, before diving in.

His mouth was relentless, tongue plunging into you, lapping up every drop like he’d been starved for it. You screamed, hips bucking, but he pinned you down with an arm across your waist, his other hand spreading you wider for him. He sucked at your clit, hard and fast, then slow and teasing, every movement driving you higher, the aphrodisiac making it all too much, too good.

Your hands twisted in his hair, pulling hard, and he moaned against you, the vibration sending you spiraling.

“Rafe—oh God—I’m gonna—” You couldn’t finish the sentence before it hit, a blinding orgasm that had you shaking, clenching around nothing as he kept going, drawing it out until you were whimpering, oversensitive and boneless.

He pulled back, lips shiny, chest heaving, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery. “You taste so fucking good,” he said, voice rough as he shoved his sweats down, freeing his cock—red, leaking, impossibly hard. He climbed onto the bed, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach with ease, pulling you up onto your knees.

“Been thinking about this for thirty fucking minutes,” he rasped, lining himself up and thrusting in deep in one brutal stroke. You cried out, the stretch overwhelming, perfect, your walls fluttering around him as he set a punishing pace. His hands gripped your hips so hard you knew you’d bruise, but you didn’t care—every slap of his skin against yours, every grunt and curse spilling from his lips, was worth it.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, one hand sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling your head back as he pounded into you. “So perfect—shit, I’m not gonna last.”

“Don’t,” you managed, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “Come for me, Rafe.”

He did—hard—his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a broken moan, his fingers digging into your skin. The feel of him, hot and pulsing, tipped you over again, a second wave crashing through you as you clenched around him, milking him dry.

He collapsed beside you, both of you slick with sweat, breathing like you’d run a race. His arm snaked around you, pulling you close, and he pressed a lazy kiss to your temple. “You’re a fucking sadist,” he muttered, but there was a grin in his voice. “Making me wait like that.”

You laughed, breathless, nuzzling into his chest. “Worth it, though, right?” “Fuck yeah,” he said, already sounding half-ready for round two. “But next time, I’m winning.”

𓂅 notes ―

return home ⸝⸝

©RAFESGREASYCURTAINBANGS ꪆৎ est. 2025

[urfriendlywriter]

smutty prompts cus u asked for it ;)

(holy shii, MDNI please! feel free to use<333 tag me when yall write plsss especially 3! 6, 9,10, 12, 13 fckk. !!)

"that's my good girl."

when they're groaning and cursing into your ear >>>> [very demureee.]

"fuck, you're soaking wet for me, baby."

their fingers curling into all the right places.

leaning back with their legs spread apart as they ask, with a smirk, "are you just going to stare, sweetheart?"

"that's," they groan, pressing their visible bulge over your stomach, "that, darling, is what you do to me."

"do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?" [YES. yes. AND YES.]

your heel on their chest, pressing them down to the floor. "Beg. Maybe I'll consider."

^ they kiss ur ankle, and up your calves. "Please, baby.." the desperate tone but that dominant, humiliating fire in their gaze promising something sinister after.

"aren't you such a tease? I'm jerking off to that picture of you, and it's all your fault." [yall read rina kent' books?? rina verse men jerking off>>> fck Aiden and Ronan.]

their fingers tipping ur chin up, caressing your jaw and their thumb slowly parts your lips, dipping it into your mouth!!

^ "that pretty little mouth of yours..." followed by a dark gaze or a chuckle!!! FVKFKDKF.

^ "I'm going to fuck that mouth, baby. may i do that?" [two hands the phone yall]

their proud, predatory gaze on you, their lips curling into a smirk, "you--" they rub the lipstick on your mouth, "are such a pretty mess for me, darling."

"eyes open. keep looking."

^ and in the mirror--it's their large hand splayed across your abdomen, another wrapped around your perking nip. as they thrust into you, hard, slow, deep. their teeth sinking into ur neck.

maintaining eye contact as they gather the wetness from between your legs with their fingers and they're sucking them off with a satisfied hum.

^ "fuck, sweetheart." they smear it all over their lips, breathing heavy, and lean down to kiss you with it!!? [sad core cus i aint experience this yet :']

neck grabs, deep grunts, a desperate rolling of their hips against yours, "you wanna cum, yeah? cum for me, baby."

arms over their head, mouth gaping while they groan, pressing and thrusting themselves up into you. "Just, like that, oh.. god."

[rafessecret]

Bsf rafe smut plsss

⋆˚࿔ bestfriend reader && rafe cameron

YOU'RE NOT WEARING PANTIES.

He always tells himself it’s innocent.

You’ve been best friends forever, always trailing behind him in your little shorts, popping pink bubblegum and laughing like the world only ever felt soft. You wear your tank tops too small, your lashes are curled to perfection even when you swear you’re tired, and your lip gloss always tastes like strawberries. You’re just his friend. His soft, sleepy, pretty friend.

But tonight is different.

You’re curled against him like you belong there, like it’s your bed and your boy. Rafe’s heart thuds heavy beneath your cheek where you’ve tucked yourself into his chest, little fingers resting over his stomach like you don’t even notice how warm and hard his body’s gone. The TV plays some muted sitcom, but neither of you is watching. Your sleepy giggles melt right into the room like honey, sticky and slow.

❝You’re so warm, Rafe,❞ you mumble, voice syrupy with sleep, lashes fluttering against his skin.

He swallows thickly. Your thigh brushes his, bare and smooth, and then—fuck—it shifts just a little too high. You don’t even realise. Of course you don’t. You’re too sleepy to notice the way your body moulds to his, your breath slowing as you doze off, lips parting against his collarbone like a kiss without meaning.

But it means everything to him.

His boxers are too tight. His cock aches beneath the fabric, twitching each time you roll your hips in your sleep. It’s subtle. So small. But Rafe feels every movement like lightning, like you’re teasing him on purpose. He shifts just slightly, trying to think of anything else—literally anything—but your scent is in the blankets, sugary and warm. And then you let out this tiny sigh, your thigh slotting higher, brushing the bulge in his shorts. 

His breath catches. You don’t wake up. You just press your face deeper into his neck, lips barely parting as you breathe him in. 

That’s when he breaks.

His hand slips beneath the blanket, knuckles grazing your soft skin. You twitch a little but don’t wake. He swallows again, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shorts, soft cotton and heat waiting for him.

You’re not wearing panties.

Rafe nearly groans. Instead, he drags his hand lower, slow and cautious, until his thumb brushes your clit. You squirm just slightly, face wrinkling like you're dreaming, but your body doesn’t pull away. ❝Shhh,❞ he whispers, barely audible, lips brushing your temple. ❝It’s okay. Just me.❞

His fingers circle your clit in lazy, practised swipes. You’re warm and wet, even in your sleep, and he’s dizzy with it—how soft you are, how pretty you sound even as your breath stutters.

Then you shift, brow furrowed, lashes fluttering as you blink up at him all dazed and glossy. ❝Rafe?❞ you whisper, voice confused and sugar-coated. ❝You were grinding on me,❞ he murmurs, voice low and slow. His fingers never stop. ❝Didn’t want to wake you. Thought you wanted it.❞

Your hips roll into his touch instinctively, lips parting with a soft gasp, and you’re still barely conscious—confused and warm and pliable. He kisses your cheek. ❝Feels good, right?❞

❝Mmhm… but—Rafe…❞

❝Just me, baby,❞ he soothes, pushing the blanket off you. Moonlight spills across your bare thighs. ❝It’s okay. You’re always so sweet to me.❞ His voice is warm and slow, and your body listens before your mind does. You let him pull your shorts down your thighs, guiding you gently over his lap. The drag of your bare cunt against his clothed cock has him choking on air.

❝Come on, pretty,❞ he groans, peeling off his boxers. ❝Let me feel you. Just sit on it. That’s all.❞ You hover, thighs trembling, still unsure. But his hands are big, warm on your waist, easing you down until the fat head of his cock is pressed against your slit. He rocks you gently, spreading your slick. And then you gasp as he presses up, slowly. ❝R-Rafe—❞

❝Shhh, I got you,❞ he pants, forehead pressed to your collarbone. ❝You’re doing so well, baby. Just take it. Just like that.❞ He sinks into you inch by inch, your cunt clenching down around him so tight he nearly blacks out. You’re gasping, hands gripping his shoulders, unsure whether to pull back or fall into it.

❝It’s too much,❞ you whisper, but your hips twitch forward, needier than your voice admits. ❝No, it’s not,❞ he says, voice shaking. ❝You were made for me. Look how good you're taking' it.❞ You move slow, unsure and sticky-sweet, your body bouncing gently with each grind of your hips. He moans low in your ear, hands sliding under your tank top, palming your tits as you ride him with sleepy little whimpers.

❝You’re so tight, baby,❞ he groans. ❝So good, fuck—I'm going to cum if you keep squeezing’ me like that.❞ You let out a breathy moan, your cunt fluttering around him. Rafe bucks up hard, forcing himself deeper, making your eyes roll back. ❝Oh my god—Rafe—❞

❝That’s it,❞ he snarls, gripping your hips tighter, thrusting up into you with rough, hungry snaps. ❝Cum for me. Right now. Let me feel that pussy clamp down.❞ You cry out, nails raking down his chest, your whole body trembling as your orgasm rips through you. Your cunt squeezes him, milking his cock in desperate, wet pulses, and you collapse forward with a sob. 

Rafe doesn’t stop. He groans loudly, thrusting up into the heat of you with hard, desperate rolls of his hips. ❝Fuck—fuck, baby—gonna fill you up. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.❞ He cums with a growl, cock buried deep, jerking inside you as he spills into your pulsing cunt. You feel it flood you—warm and thick, dripping out the second he bottoms out again, grinding up into the mess.

You’re both soaked and shaking, your body slack on top of his as his arms curl around you tightly. You’re fucked raw and full, slick still dripping out onto his thighs. He strokes your back, lips brushing sweat-damp skin. ❝You’re mine now,❞ he whispers against your temple, eyes half-lidded. ❝You know that, right?❞ You nod slowly, dazed and aching, brain fuzzy and pussy still twitching from aftershocks.

And he just smiles.

Because you’ll sleep here again tomorrow.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : i’m so sick right now angels 🥲 thanks for the request, they mean so much—especially since i’m not getting many asks lately. trying to answer the ones I have soon <3

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Can Run

Sequel to Come Out, Come Out and Wherever You Are

Warnings: noncon and violent elements. Warnings are not exhaustive. Please curate your reading accordingly.

Summary: You make a run for it.

As always, please, please, please, send me your thoughts and feedback, horny and otherwise! Love you all so much 💗

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Steve stands behind you, hands framing your head. He presents you to Bucky like livestock, stroking and petting your hair. “Problem with a pretty face is you can’t tell if it’s lying.”

Steve’s hands fall to your neck, closing around it but not squeezing.

“So, Buck, was my starshine a good girl?” 

Bucky gives a crooked smirk and he pushes his fingers through his thick locks. He exhales and tuts as he considers you. His eyes appraise every inch of you, naked to his gaze.  Steve’s forces your chin back up as you try to hide.

“She was a very good girl…” Bucky comes closer, a step at a time. “Once I found her.”

“Mm, she has a habit of hiding, doesn’t she?” Steve’s grip tightens until his fingers are flush to your throat, “tryna keep a good thing all to herself.”

“Captain,” you croak and he chokes the voice from you.

“I didn’t say you could talk,” he snarls. “Sergeant, you got any ideas?”

Bucky brings his metal hand up to his chin, giving a thoughtful stroke and slides his thumb up to his lower lip. He pushes against it and hums.

“If she likes to hide… I don’t mind finding her,” Bucky snickers, “we’re soldiers, we know how to track. But it never hurts to test our skills, huh?”

“Meaning,” Steve pulls you back against him.

“You remember where we took that hike… with the team? That big forest up a ways. Real easy to hide up there. Easier to get lost.”

“Oh?” Steve hums, “there’s no moon, Buck. That’s not practical.”

“I didn’t think we were being practical,” Bucky retorts, “but if you wanna be practical…” 

Bucky holds up his metal hand and stretches his fingers. Steve clucks and slowly drags his hands from your neck, trailing along your shoulders. His breath brushes over your hair as he leans in to plant a kiss on your crown.

“That’s the thing about my little star,” he snarls into your hair, “I’ll always find her light.”

⭐

You crash to your knees, a gust swirling over you as the metal slices into the trunk of a nearby tree. You can hardly see as you scramble across the forest floor, crawling away from where the shield’s embedded into the thick walnut. You have only a thin layer of silk to guard you against the night, the belt of the robe growing looser with each move.

You get to your feet, naked soles slipping on the leaves and dirt. You throw out your arms to keep your balance as you race into the dark. You keep your hands ahead of you to keep from crashing into some unseen barrier. You squint, the vague outline of the trees speckled all around.

“Is that a fawn I hear?” Bucky’s voice rises tauntingly above you, “or a little kitten?”

You gasp and hurl yourself forward, twisting and turning without direction. Your only purpose is to get away. To keep afoot. You cannot stop, you cannot hide. They will find you.

“Cute little kitten… thinks she can outrun a wolf,” Bucky chortles as you hear his steady, patient steps. He doesn’t run, he walks with a certain pace. He has no doubt as you’re swept up in all of yours.

You slip again, crashing into the soft ground, rolling down a small ditch. The silk parts, exposing your chest and stomach. You try to fix it as you puff and stagger to your feet. You tighten the knot and fall forward. You claw your way up the rise and crest the ridge.

“You sound scared, starshine,” Steve’s timbre wafts through the chill, “I can hear your heartbeat…”

“I hear it too,” Bucky’s voice counters from your other side.

You spin around, searching through the void, lashing out protectively. The world tilts and turns violently as you whimper and thrash your arms. 

“Please, please, don’t–”

“Run.”

Bucky’s breath tickles the back of your ear and you yipe. You obey without a thought. You sprint ahead, pumping your arms and length as you sob and race into the blackness. Your feet pound against the forest floor, twigs and pebbles cutting up your flesh.

He’s behind you. Running. You hear the steps just behind yours. Your chest burns and your nerves scatter. You hit a wall and bounces back, colliding into another behind you. 

You're crushed between the bodies of the men as they close in on you, grabbing as you robe as you weakly try to fend them off. You squeak and squeal as the robe falls away and the silk is peeled from your shoulders. The fabric pools at your feet, slipping beneath them as you kick up frantically.

Bucky loops his arms through yours and pulls them above your head. You whine as Steve’s calloused fingertips brush up your stomach and he gropes your chest. You squirm as he explores your naked flesh, thumbs rolling around your hard nipples and tracing between your tits.

“Guess it’s a tie?” Bucky purrs.

“Nah, I got her first,” Steve growls.

“Bullshit.”

“We can share.”

“You can have her mouth,” Steve grabs your chin.

Bucky brings his hand up, poking two fingers into your mouth as Steve squeezes your jaw. You nearly gag as Bucky pokes at the back of your tongue. You bite down on his metal digits and he hums. 

“Fine, one hole’s just as sweet as the next, right, sugarplum?”

Steve pulls his hand back and grips the back of your head. He shoves you forward till you bend, his other hand clasps around your hips as he keeps your ass against him. You smell the blood and scent that lingers on his dirty uniform.

He wiggles against you as Bucky cups your chin and brings your head up. You bat your lashes as hot tears well and spill over. You whine and quiver as you reach out to cling to his pants. The soft whisper of his zipper cuts through the din of the nocturnal forest.

His hard tip presses against your lips as he keeps his hold on you. He pushes into your mouth as you let him. You can’t fight. You’ve fallen into their trap. He slides into your throat and you suck in air around him.

Steve shifts behind you, his pants slackening as he leans against you. You feel his veiny length rub along your ass. He trails his tip down the curve of your flesh. You shiver as he glides down along your cunt and lines himself up.

"Can you feel how desperate she is for you?" Steve growls.

He inches into you as you let out a murmur around Bucky’s intrusion. You cling tighter to Bucky as he rocks and Steve dips deeper and deeper. Your walls clench him and your feet slip on the dirt. He steadies you as he builds his tempo. 

"I feel her shaking… sorry, I got a bit carried away Rogers, but you know how that pussy just begs for it," Bucky huffs.

The noise of your degradation echoes around you. Your heart hammers behind your ears as your blood sears through your veins. You can’t breath as they use you, back and forth, stretching and bending you to their will. You are nothing more than what they make of you.

Steve runs his hand up above your ass, a sharp tap as he ruts. Bucky wrenches your head back, sinking further in as he gags you. You babble helplessly as your face streams in futility.

Steve leans over you, ramming himself to his limit as he snakes his hand around your neck. Bucky pets your head as he groans. Steve purrs as the Bucky bulges in your throat. 

"Mmm, fuck, she takes it so good," Steve grits out, "why are you hiding, baby girl, when your body needs this?"

He pulls you back, sliding you off of Bucky. The other man grunts and exhales sharply as his wet dick prods your cheek. 

Steve wraps his thick arm around your neck and pulls you straight as he stands. He keeps you locked with his bicep as Bucky steps closer. 

Bucky lifts your left leg, hooking it over Steve’s free arm, before raising your other. He keeps it bent to your chest as he lines up with your entrance. You mewl as he slowly forces his way in. Your cunt stretches painfully around both of them, burning hotter the further he gets.

Both men bury themselves to their limit. You whimper and cough, throat still raw and ragged. You tilt your head back as Steve's arm curls tighter around your neck. 

You huff and heavy as they work in tandem, fucking into you, crushing you between their ruts. You bounce helplessly, muscles straining as every part of your clenches.

"Mm, baby girl," Steve moans, "you like that, don't you?"

"Huh, the captain isn't good enough. You need the sergeant too," Bucky teases, "that's it doll, you like to be used."

You shudder and shut your eyes against another wave of tears. You grasp Steve’s side and Bucky’s arm, trying to slow both of them. You cannot. You can only steel yourself against the barrage of their desire.

You plunge into the void of both world and mind. You let it consume you just as they do. The friction of bodies, the theft of your autonomy, the assault of your very being. The heroes that shine in light turn to monsters in the depths of the dark.

⭐

The sun rises through the window, casting a soft hue over the hungover scene. Limbs tangled in each other, body heat mingling to sweltering, a prison of flesh on either side of you. Steve’s arm is slung around your side as Bucky’s metal hand rests on your head, cradling your cheek, a gesture less gentle than it would look.

You can barely breathe as you watch the shadows tilt and fade over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t move, not just for the fact that they won’t let you, rather the agony that coils around you. You are worn to the bone, stretched and stained by their hunger.

You tremble as Steve groans and his fingers crawl along your side. He nestles closer and presses his nose into your hair. As they’ve slept, you’ve lain in torturous consciousness. You cannot hide, not even in your own mind. Sleep is no escape, it cannot free you from the inevitable.

“Starshine,” he rasps as he kisses your crown, brushing his fingertips along your hip. He takes your hand in his and raises it. He plays with it, folding your thumb inward as he pushes his fingers between yours. “Wake him up.”

“Captain?” You murmur as you curl your fingers beside his.

“Go on, show him a good morning,” he goads as he leads your hand down, hovering it above Bucky’s dick, half-erect already.

You let him wrap your hand around Bucky’s length. He inhales abruptly but does not open his eyes. You watch his face as Steve guides you to his tip and back down to his base. He pumps your touch up and down until Bucky’s rigid and tense.

Bucky’s dark lashes part and he stretches his thumb under your chin, clutching your face tight as he groans. His lips curl slightly as a dimple pits in his cheek. You gasp as Steve lets you go, rescinding his hand to dip along your pelvis. He slips his fingers down and burrows between your folds, a current radiating from your clit to your nape.

“Don’t stop till he cums,” Steve snarls as his nails dig into your skin.

“Yes, Captain,” you reply as you watch Bucky’s face contort, blue eyes drowning you. 

It is better to obey than to hide. Easier to accept than deny. Just as you cannot fight these men, you cannot fight the fate they’ve confined you to.

[moechies]

hhfrhrhrh stepdad nanami absolutely demolishing u in bed

“daddy.. daddy—“

“hm, princess? daddy’s here,”

he holds your face in between his fingers, a gentle tap to your cheeks when your eyes gaze off somewhere else.

he pistons into your cunt like a fucking machine, contradicting to his sweet words. you’re barely able to take a breath before he presses into the fat of your cunt yet again, forcing a weighed cry from your throat.

an offering of shade hovers over you as he leans above your body with his; blocking off all sight of what’s beyond him, the only thing visible in your vision is the handsome face of your dearest stepfather.

your cunt creams around his heavy base, pearlescent rings of cum that form lewd, wet noises as he fucks your cunt.

“creamin’ all over the place, hm. does it feel good sweetheart?”

and you're unable to provide a verbal answer, only a humiliating loud moan that leaves your lips; but he'll take it as a yes.

"d-daddy.. no more.. too.. much!"

"no princess, be good. you want daddy to give you your reward, right?"

your small hand tightens around his bicep.

"y-yes.. i wan— wan' daddy's reward.."

"there we go, that's my sweet girl."

nanami knows anything you say is out of the goodness of your heart, and not from a single thought provoked in your head; but he doesn't care.

because stepdaddy nanamin knows that you would never say no to him anyways.

[madewithsilk]

hi sweetheart!! i saw your post asking for reqs but feel free to ignore this!! ive been so into bestfriend!ellie recently so maybe fix something up for herrr?? and if youre up for it maybe somwthing a tad bit dark…?? i see you write that alot :) no pressure ily

— ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ? 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

pairing; bestfriend ellie williams x f!reader

cw; spit, cheating, male relationship, strap-on, biting, dumbification, filming, dubious consent.

𝜗𝜚 Bestfriend Ellie that hated the fact you got a boyfriend, resenting everything about him. She knew he didn’t pleasure you, he wore you out. You always looked exhausted.

𝜗𝜚 Bestfriend Ellie who didn’t back down from telling you how she felt at any moment. She’d shout whenever you cried about another thing he did unfairly, hand running through her hair in frustration.

𝜗𝜚 Bestfriend Ellie who realized you stopped telling her about him since. She’d hear you complain on a call with another friend, crying about him flirting with other girls or scaring you. Or how he could never find your clit nor make you cum.

𝜗𝜚 Bestfriend Ellie who took that as a challenge, whispering sweet words into your ear to convince you into letting her pleasure you. “He’s good for nothing, huh?” She whispered into your ear, caressing your tummy and hips. “I could cure that ache, promise,” She mumbled gently, kissing down your neck an nibbling down.

She made you dumb enough to believe her, letting her strip every article of clothing off of your body and position you into a full nelson. Her strap was so big, so thick. The girth hardly fit inside you, nudging at your cevix. “Shiit, baby, thought it wouldn’t fit?” She chuckled, ramming her dick further inside you. You babbled in response, head thrown back against her shoulder.

You shook your head, tongue lolling out. Ellie felt so lucky you hadn’t even noticed the camera set up, filming your cunt clenching around every inch of her cock. “Els— Els-“ You were rambling only her name and pleads, whimpering at the feeling of being stuffed to the brim. “His cock isn’t as big as mine huh?” Ellie cooed, pressing her palm down on your belly to feel the imprint of the strap.

You didn’t reply, too lost in the feeling, trying to flutter your half-lidded eyes open to look at Ellie. Her hair was disheveled along with a cocky smile plastered across her face. She mocked the pout you had on your lips, wiping it off with a kiss. “Don’t frown, baby.” She reprimands and breaks the kiss, increasing the pace in which she dug into you. “So big,” You moaned out, hiding your face into her neck.

The camera was picking up every second of your cunt drooling onto the silicone, eyes filling up with tears of pleasure. Ellie’s hips angled to hit your g-spot, abusing it over and over again. She swore she felt you get tighter, knowing you were just so close. Her hand slithered between your thighs, rubbing at your clit in gentle, teasing circles. “Gonna cum on camera to show him how much of a nasty bitch you are, baby?” Her voice was so sweet, it was nearly absurd the words that actually left her lips.

Your eyes wideed at her words, noticing the camera and pushing against Ellie. Either way, it was useless, every moment was there for it to be sent to him. The tears that weled finally spilled, streaming down your place. “Ellie— Ngh- Els please stop,” You babbled. She hushed you gently, thumb pulling out your bottom lip and spitting on it. “So dumb, baby, thought you could get fucked dumb with no consequences?” She tuts, watching you give her the doe eyes she loved as you swallowed her spit.

Your jaw went slack with her harder thrusts, cumming on the silicone and leaving a white ring of it. Your grip on her arm was so tight, trying to get her to no overstimuate you with the little rubbing on your nub. “Hey, hey, let me take care of it,” She said muffled against your cheek, bottomed out inside you but not moving. You murmur with tears, “Please don’t send that to him..” She bounced you on her lap with one harsh thrust. “Why shouldn’t I?” She laughed gently, taunting you and copying the little whimpers you gave her.

Ellie pulled her strap out, elicitng a whine from you at the empty feeling. She quickly crams you with her fingers, “Can’t even live without something inside you, such a baby.” You hummed pleasantly at her fingers curling inside you, kissing Ellie’s jawline in hopes she’d listen to you. “Just a warm hole to be filled.” You nodded mindlessly, leaving a purple hickey against her jaw.

“Think I’ll keep you here till I say so.”

[biwritesfics]

Dead girls don’t die

Part 1.5: Jigsaw

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Warnings: Mentions of violence/abuse, harsh language, just dark in general

AN: Just a little tidbit, I wanted to write a different POV. Hope you enjoy!

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“Red what the hell are we doing out here?” Frank Castle questions Matt. “What we always do Frank, get the bad guys and the evidence so they can rot in jail” He replies searching for the fake well. “Nuh uh Red that's what YOU do, I get the job done right” he retorts. “We can discuss my moral code later, there’s a well a few feet ahead of us and according to my source it’s a tunnel.” Matt directs.

“Your source better be right if I'm about to jump in this shit,” Frank grumbles. He slings his gun over his shoulder and starts scaling down the sides of the well. “There’s a ladder he shouts,” quickly switching gears to the easier method. Matt follows suit until they're both standing at the entrance of the tunnel. Frank looks at Matt and he nods. Many people question if Matt can tell they're looking at him but Frank Castle knows. They've saved each other’s asses too many times not to.

It's dark and damp but the walls are stone not dirt, it's rather sophisticated actually. They stop when they come face to face with a padlocked door. “Cover your ears red” Matt does so quickly. Frank blasts through the padlock with God knows how big a bullet. “The shrapnel could've killed us you know” Matt remarks annoyed. Matt’s blind but he could feel the eye roll. “Based on the fact your dumbass is still talking to me you're fine, you're bulletproof anyways.” Frank raps his knuckles on Matt’s helmet. Castle could almost be relaxed when there was no risk of being shot at. Keyword being almost, he was still himself after all.

“What exactly did the sick fuck that built this do? Ya know before we walk in the solid metal death trap,” Castle questions. “More than enough to make you wanna blow his brains out.” Matt speaks with a tone only reserved for the worst scum the world has to offer. “It was little kids wasn't it.” “Little girls. His own daughter maybe more but whatever he did had her so messed up no one believes her” Matt answers grimly.

“He dead? He better be dead or I’m gonna be pissed,” Frank asks, not bothering to restrain his anger. “Daughter beat you to it , when she was ten actually. She's seven years into a life sentence at a criminal asylum, we find evidence against the father, we get to bust her out. “Tough lil thing” is Frank remarks kicking open the door. Matt knows it's bad when he hears Frank’s heart skip a beat. A man who had seen his family reduced to a bloody pulp was shocked at the sight. “Castle what is it” Matt asks cautiously. There's a long pause. “Pieces Red, kids in pieces.” is his only reply.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, no curse au, dead dove, violence described including murder, dark romance, use of y/n, descriptions of mental illness.

Synopsis: Sukuna’s talking to his therapist in jail about you. He’s incarcerated because of you, and his obsession is concerning.

An: Yeah idk i thought of this while I was driving to work one morning.

Session one. | Session two. | Session three. | Session four. | Termination session.

His large frame laid lazily over the couch, clad in an orange jumpsuit. He had his feet propped up on one side, and his head was propped up on the other side in a far too casual manner. His naturally pink hair pushed up near the front, messily so.

He was still cuffed and shackled, but the therapist was still afraid of him. To the therapist’s credit, he had read the warrant that went into viscous detail of Sukuna’s crimes.

Normally, the therapist wouldn’t read the inmates warrants due to situations like these. He liked going into sessions with an open mind, but he had gotten warnings about Sukuna… how the man can fly into a blind rage like a switch on the wall.

He was brutal, unforgivable, inhumane.

Simple counseling wasn’t going to “fix” a broken human like Sukuna. The therapist knew this, but the state mandated that Sukuna undergo weekly counseling sessions per his sentence.

Sukuna could taste the therapist’s fear, and he let out an earnest laugh. “You don’t even want to try to fix me, do you?” He asked tauntingly with a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you. Don’t feel bad~”

The therapist swallowed the lump in his throat, and he adjusted in his seat. “I can’t fix anyone… Counseling isn’t about fixing.. It’s about moving forward and learning how to live.”

“Bullshit.” Sukuna spits with shrug. “Counseling is about focusing on the past and letting shit hang you up for far too long. I guarantee you that you’re going to ask me about how I got here, is that right?”

The therapist is shaking like a leaf at this point. “Our past can help us navigate to a better future.” He murmured out weakly.

Sukuna roars in laughter, causing the therapist to nearly jump out of his seat. The pink-haired felon doubles over as he laughs hysterically. “You’re a funny guy. Fine. You really want to know how I got here? I’ll tell you.”

After a deep breath and wiping away a fake tear, Sukuna goes on, “You know, teachers always believe that pairing the troubled kids up with the good kids will inspire them to act right. That shit never works.”

“I think that’s when my ‘type’ developed. My bitch of a second-grade teacher assigned me to sit next to this frail meek girl after I got in trouble one too many times for terrorizing the other kids. She was a real stick in the mud.” Sukuna laughs fondly, a rare genuine smile on his face.

“Y/n?” The therapist asks, remembering your name from the warrants.

Sukuna’s red eyes snap over to the therapist with an almost predatory gaze. His hands visibly curl into fists. “Say her name again, and I’ll splatter your blood all over this room. The officers won’t be able to pry me from you, deeming you to be a lost cause.”

The therapist freezes as the breath hitches in his throat. His eyes dart toward his panic button, knowing he should probably press it now, but he’s frozen in fear.

“We’ll call her mouse.” Sukuna goes on as if he didn’t just threaten the poor guy’s life in brutal detail.

“Mouse was a real challenge. I for some reason made it my mission to get her to talk to me, but she always stayed silent — only answering me with simple head gestures.” He laughs again, lying his head back further as he’s replaying the memories in his mind. He can remember you vividly and how you looked back then. He yearns for that feeling again. The feeling of seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t exactly tell you when the challenge started to border obsession, but she slowly slithered her way into my brain. Even when I wasn’t in school, I thought about her. I wondered what she sounded like, wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me, wondered why she looked at me like that.”

The therapist furrows his eyebrows. Even though he doesn’t feel safe in this session, and he doesn’t trust Sukuna at all, he has a hunger for knowledge, and he loves solving things that have to do with the human psyche.

“Looked at you like what?” The therapist dared to ask.

Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, and he tapped his finger against the back of his hand. His face hardened as he found the words he was looking for. “She looked at me like she had no preconceived notion of me. Her eyes… were so big and round. Even though she didn’t talk to me, it was like she accepting of my presence.”

The shackles jingled as Sukuna rubbed his face in a stressed gesture. Remembering you was like a double edged sword. He loved thinking about you, but he hated being reminded that he was without you.

The therapist eased in his chair. There was actual emotions underneath all those tattoos, thick skin, and muscle. The media had portrayed Sukuna as a complete narcissistic sociopath, but this was proof that diagnosis was false.

“I bothered the shit out of her for years, continually getting myself paired up with her.” Sukuna grinned, shifting the conversation back in a direction that he was more comfortable with, “I remember those asshole kids always called me her shadow because I followed her everywhere. Jokes on them.”

The therapist shivered as be remembered a chilling detail from the warrants. Each time a victim was found, a message was written in the victim’s blood.

-ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ

His victim’s - their deaths were like an homage to you.

“Were the kids ever… assholes to mouse?”

Sukuna’s jaw visibly tightened. He loathed this therapist’s questions… thinking he knew everything just because you and Sukuna were misunderstood kids.

“They called her weird for not talking.” Sukuna recalled as he bit his inner cheek. His eyes glared to the wall in front of him. “Now look at who can’t talk.”

Sukuna’s first victim. He didn’t start out with murder. He started out with stapling your bullies mouth shut for taunting you. Everything was for you. Everything.

He held a kid down to the teacher’s in third grade, grabbing a stapler, and he pressed it down one by one into the kids lips, binding them together. The kid couldn’t scream or cry for help, or else he’d risk ripping the flesh on his lips.

The teachers found the kid and immediately knew the only kid sadistic enough to go through with such an act was none other than Sukuna.

“Did mouse witness you do that?” The therapist asked, genuinely intrigued by Sukuna’s narrative. For being a ruthless criminal, he was a wonderful historian.

“No. Why would I scare her like that?” Sukuna’s voice was tense as he eyed the therapist carefully, as if he was waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

The therapist clicks his tongue in surprise, and he looks like a deer in headlights. “Scare? No.. no, I thought you’d maybe just show off what you did for her.”

“I’m not the type to show off.” Sukuna answers flatly, and the therapist wonders if that’s the first time Sukuna’s lied during this session. He knows that Sukuna likes to show off. The warrants prove it.

“Anyways, I wore her down over the years. She didn’t speak to me until we were in sixth grade.” An eerie smile curls on Sukuna’s lip. “I can still remember her first word to me and how she said it…”

The therapist leaned in, curiosity getting best of him.

Sukuna smirks, knowing he has the therapist interested now. “Her first word to me was a plea. A word to show her undeniable want. Her first word to me was please.”

Bang! Bang Bang!

The therapist literally flinches out of his chair from the heavy knocks at the door.

“Ryomen! Your time is up!” The officer yelled on the other side of the door.

“Pity. I was beginning to have fun.” Sukuna remarked as he stood up from the couch. The shackles jingled as he walked toward the door, and the door buzzed, letting him out. “See you next week, doc.”

[jjkssin]

Embrace of Ruins. Jk

Pairing: King jk x widowed (fem) reader.

Character count: 14,962

Genre: Dark Romance | Historical

Tropes: Dominant , controlling jk, forced proximity, obsession , captive romance, war , fragile female lead, mentions of death, mature.

Summary: When ruthless warlord Jeon conquers a rival kingdom, he slaughters its royal bloodline including the cruel king who once claimed Y/N as his wife. But instead of casting her aside, Jeon takes her as his own, stripping her of her former title and making her his possession. She was never meant to be a queen. She was meant to be his.

The air reeked of blood and burning wood, the sky dark with the smoke of a fallen kingdom. Screams had long since faded into silence, leaving only the sound of victorious banners fluttering in the wind.

The Kingdom had fallen.

This was not just another kingdom swallowed by his empire. No this war had been waged with a purpose far beyond power. It was her. The ghost of a woman he had never seen, only heard of in whispers the famed beauty of the lost kingdom, Y/N.

People had spoken of her ethereal grace, of her skin that glowed like moonlight and eyes that held galaxies within them.

At the heart of the carnage, Jeon sat upon the grand throne, one boot resting on the fallen king’s lifeless body and the golden crown of the fallen king crushed beneath his boot.

The scent of blood and smoke lingered in the air mingling with the screams of the last remnants of a dying dynasty.

His victory was absolute. The kingdom now belonged to him. And so did everything within it.

Including her.

She was a vision in a silk dress , the color of winter’s first snow.

___

Amidst it all, She ran.

Bare feet against the cold marble, her silken gown now soaked in the lifeblood of her people, dragging behind her like a ghostly shroud. The palace corridors, once familiar, had become a maze of death and ruin. She barely noticed the bodies, the shattered glass of once grand chandeliers. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat, the rasp of her breath and the distant clamor of armored boots in pursuit.

She had seen him.

He had stood amidst the wreckage of her throne room, a wolf in the den of slaughter, dark eyes scanning the ruin with calculated indifference.

He had looked at her like a claim already made, and that had been enough to send her fleeing.

She stumbled through the grand doors of the palace and into the frozen night, her thin gown no barrier against the relentless cold. Snowflakes kissed her tear streaked cheeks as she pushed forward, her breath rising in desperate clouds.

The forest loomed ahead a tangle of frostbitten branches and endless dark. She plunged into its depths without hesitation. The crown she had once been forced to wear had been torn from her head, her hair cascading around her face in disheveled waves.

The trees whispered around her, the wind howling like a grieving specter. Her feet tore through the frozen undergrowth, bare skin sliced by unseen thorns but she did not stop.

She could not stop.

She knew they would come. She had seen it in his eyes obsidian pools that swallowed light, a gaze that spoke of possession and a hunger far more dangerous than the battlefield he had razed.

She tried to be silent, tried to disappear into the vast expanse of snow and night but her body betrayed her. A misstep her foot catching on a hidden root sent her tumbling forward. She crashed into the snow, pain exploding through her limbs as she gasped, clawing at the frost with trembling hands.

She scrambled to rise, but it was too late.

A shadow loomed over her, swallowing the pale light of the moon.

Him.

The air shifted with his presence, heavy with something she could not name. His breath came steady, controlled, unaffected by the chase. He had known this would happen. He had allowed her to run, entertained her futile escape before closing in like a beast playing with his prey.

"You thought you could run from me?" His voice was velvet over steel, dark and slow, as though savoring the moment.

Y/N trembled, her body wracked with exhaustion, yet she found herself inching back, her palms sinking into the snow.

Jeon crouched before her, gloved fingers tilting her chin upwards, forcing her to meet the gaze she had so desperately tried to avoid.

"You should know better" he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "I do not chase what I do not intend to catch."

The rumors had not done her justice.

She was exquisite, a masterpiece carved by the gods themselves.

Even in her disarray, she was ethereal.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not fight. She had nothing left to fight for.

A cruel smile tugged at Jeon's lips as he leaned forward.

"Your king is dead. Your kingdom is mine"

With that his hand moved lower, gliding down the torn fabric of her gown, feeling the tremor beneath his touch. And then without warning, he slid his arms beneath her one under her knees, the other wrapping around her back.

She gasped as the ground disappeared beneath her, the sudden closeness of him knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands instinctively grasped at his shoulders, clutching at the thick fabric of his cloak as he lifted her effortlessly.

The world around them blurred as Jeon carried her back, his strides slow, deliberate, savoring every second of the act.

His men stood waiting at the forest’s edge, their eyes carefully averted, knowing better than to interrupt.

Jeon was the master of every inch of this kingdom now but she was a different kind of victory.

A victory he would not let slip from his grasp

__

Jeon had wanted her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. A forbidden desire had taken root deep within him when he had first seen her beside the now dead king , a man unworthy of even touching the hem of her gown, much less claiming her as his.

__

The journey from the snow laden forest to Jeon’s kingdom was a silent one. His kingdom loomed ahead like a fortress of stone, walls that could never be breached.

When they finally crossed the threshold into the warmth of Jeon’s kingdom, the heavy iron gates closed behind them with a resounding clang, sealing off the outside world.

He called for his servants, his voice firm and authoritative.

“Take her to my chambers,” he ordered coldly. “Strip her of the dead king’s colors. She wears only what I give her now.”

__

The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air as the maids scrubbed away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of her former life.

But no matter how many times they washed her, no matter how many hands gently soothed her skin, there were things that could not be erased.

The marks on her body. The scars both physical and emotional that she had borne under her husband’s cruel reign.

Afterward, Y/N was dressed in a delicate white nightgown. It clung to her thin frame, the silk soft against her skin, but it did nothing to ease the chill in her bones. The gown was far more modest than the opulent dress she had worn in her past life but it was far too intimate for her current circumstances.

As the maids finished their task, they led her down the stone corridors of Jeon’s castle to his private chambers.

The room was enormous, warm with a roaring fire. She stood silently before him, her eyes cast downward. Jeon stood by the bed his posture strong, unyielding and as always, a palpable aura of control surrounded him.

He moved toward her without a word, his presence overwhelming.

His eyes narrowed as they settled on her shoulders and arms.

His fingers hovered near her shoulder, brushing against the faded remnants of bruises.

“That pathetic excuse for a king,” he spat, his voice dripping with disgust.

“A man unworthy of a throne, unworthy of a crown and certainly unworthy of you."

Jeon growled, his hands flexing as if he longed to tear apart a man who was already rotting in the ground.

"What did you call him?" he mused, tilting his head. "My king? My husband?" He laughed, dark and mocking.

"No king allows his castle to fall while he cowers in his chambers. And a husband…" He paused, his fingers ghosting over the fading bruises on her wrist.

His expression turned cold. "A husband does not treat his wife like a common whore to be used and discarded. I barely had to lift my blade before he was groveling at my feet, begging for his life like a spineless dog"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, the image flashing in her mind. She had not loved the king, but his death had been brutal. The sound of steel slicing through flesh, the gurgled choking as he bled out it haunted her.

Jeon exhaled, stepping back slightly.

"I should make you my whore," he mused. "A slave to warm my bed, nothing more. It would be fitting for the widow of such a disgraceful man."

Her stomach twisted in fear.

"But no," he murmured, as if reconsidering. "Though your husband was a disgrace, you are now mine"

His gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

"Did he ever touch you properly?" Jeon murmured, his voice turning low, almost teasing.

Jeon chuckled darkly. “Of course not. I imagine he was just as pathetic in bed as he was on the battlefield. Weak. Incompetent.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. “Did he even know what to do with you? Or did he fumble like the fool he was?”

Y/N’s breath stuttered. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to think about it.

Jeon chuckled at her silence.

“You will no longer be a widow,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather.

“You will be my wife. You wil bear my mark and sleep in my bed and by the time I am done with you, you will forget you ever belonged to anyone else.” His voice low in command.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "W-what?

Jeon smirked, amused by her reaction. "You are still royalty, no matter how pathetic your bloodline is. And I do not waste what has value." He reached for her again, his fingers brushing over the fabric of her underdress.

Before she could protest, Jeon grasped the thin strap of her underdress and pulled, the silk slipping from her shoulder with ease.

Y/N gasped, instinctively clutching the fabric to her chest.

"Still shy?" His fingers trailed down her arm, his touch deceptively soft.

"Your husband must have taken his pleasures without care. Rushed. Unskilled."

His gaze flickered over her, unreadable.

"A shame. I prefer to savor what is mine."

Y/N trembled as he grasped the other strap, slowly sliding it down her shoulder. The silk pooled at her collarbones, threatening to slip further.

Y/N’s throat tightened, a tear slipping down her cheek . Heat rushed to her cheeks, shame and something unfamiliar twisting inside her.

"You were wasted on him," Jeon murmured. "But you will not be wasted on me."

His hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer. She gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You will be my wife before the sun rises. And no kingdom, no force in this world will take you from me."

Jeon murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unshakable.

“I could touch you in ways that pathetic fool never could. I could make you beg, make you forget he ever existed.”

His hands slid lower, gripping her thighs holding her still.

“You will know what it means to be wanted,” he promised. “To be craved.”

She closed her eyes as his lips descended, as his touch deepened, as the last of her old self was stripped away like the silks of her gown.

She had been the queen of a doomed king. A nameless ghost in a gilded cage. A woman forgotten by the very man who had sworn to own her.

But Jeon was not a man who forgot what belonged to him.

He pressed her back against the silk draped bed, his gaze burning into hers as he loomed above her, all shadow and heat, all power and intent.

"You will curse me," he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, "and you will crave me all the same."

His mouth claimed her then, slow and consuming, as if proving his words true. As if sealing the vow between them with something far more binding than marriage, more damning than devotion.

She let herself sink, let herself be undone, because there was no kingdom left to fight for, no crown left to bear, only this. Only him.

And as his hands traced a path of ruin and worship alike, she realized something with aching finality.

She was not lost. She had simply been claimed.

__

The first light of dawn crept through the towering windows, painting the stone walls in hues of muted gold. The warmth of the sun did nothing to chase away the lingering shadows of the night before.

She stirred, her body aching not from pain, but from the imprint of him.

Her body heavy with exhaustion.

Her skin burned where his touch had claimed her, the memory of his hands and his voice still lingering in her senses like a lingering scent, impossible to escape.

She blinked against the morning light, the thick, heavy silence of the room pressing down upon her. The bed was empty beside her, the space where Jeon had been only a ghost of heat.

A low voice broke the silence. “Did you sleep well?”

Her body tensed, her muscles still trembling from the storm of the night before. Jeon stood near the tall windows, his silhouette framed by the light, his presence as imposing as ever.

He looked unchanged powerful, untouchable.

"Get up," he commanded, already reaching for the black silk robe draped over a nearby chair. "We have matters to attend to."

She hesitated, sitting up slowly, the silk sheets slipping from her bare shoulders.

"What matters?"

Jeon turned, fastening the robe around his waist, "Our wedding."

Her breath caught.

Jeon chuckled, "What? Did you think I would leave you as a nameless concubine?" He stepped closer, gripping her chin between his fingers.

She searched his gaze, trying to understand, to make sense of this shift. "Then... I will be the queen of this place?"

"You wish to rule?" His voice was measured but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

Y/N swallowed hard. "No. But.." She hesitated, unsure how to put the ache in her.

She trailed off, shame burning in her throat.

Jeon studied her, a thoughtful hum vibrating from his chest. "You are not meant for war," he said at last.

"Not meant for bloodshed and for dirty politics." He tilted his head, his gaze heavy.

"You are meant for me."

His words did not soothe her as he likely intended them to.

She had listened. She had obeyed. She had surrendered in body.

But she would not surrender this.

"I will not marry you," she said, her voice quiet, yet firm.

"I will not be your wife unless I am your queen," Y/N said, her voice trembling but unwavering. "You took my kingdom, my home, my name. If I am to be bound to you, I will not be just another possession. "

His fingers curled slightly, then relaxed. Slowly, he turned, dark eyes locking onto her with something unreadable something slow-burning, something dangerous.

"You will," he said simply.

She lifted her chin, a flicker of defiance breaking through her usual obedience.

"Not if I am not to be queen."

A slow, mirthless smirk tugged at his lips. "Is that what you want?" He stepped toward her, his presence suffocating, the air in the room shifting like a storm about to break.

"A throne?"

She clenched her fists in her lap, her pulse thrumming against her throat. "I was a queen before you tore my kingdom apart." Her voice did not waver, though her breath did. "I will not be cast aside as some nameless wife while you rule alone."

Jeon studied her in silence, the weight of his gaze heavy, assessing. Then, without warning, he moved.

Faster than she could react, his fingers closed around her throat not choking, not hurting, just a firm grip, possessive, commanding. He tilted her head back, forcing her to look up at him, his thumb pressing lightly against the delicate pulse at her neck.

"You speak as though you have a choice."

She gasped softly but she did not break away.

Jeon’s other hand traced the curve of her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle, a contrast to the quiet fury simmering in his dark eyes.

"You were not a queen," he murmured. "You were a prisoner in a cage, a wife to a spineless rat who did not deserve you. You wore a crown but it was never truly yours. "

His fingers tightened slightly around her throat, enough to remind her of his power, enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"And now, you demand a throne beside me?" He leaned closer, his breath fanning against her lips. "No. You will kneel before it instead."

Her heart pounded, her breath shallow, but she still managed to whisper "If I mean nothing more than a body in your bed, end this now."

The air shifted violently.

Jeon’s grip tightened for the briefest moment just long enough to make her dizzy before he released her completely. He exhaled sharply, stepping back, his jaw taut, his gaze dark with something volatile.

For the first time since conquering this land, since taking her, someone had denied him.

And he did not tolerate defiance.

"Very well," he murmured, his voice eerily calm. "If you will not walk to the altar, you will be dragged to it."

Today, she would become his wife.

Not his queen.

He would marry her, not as a political arrangement, not as a necessity but because he wanted her.

He was a conqueror. He alone was enough to rule his land.

__

The silk gown clung to Y/N’s trembling frame, the deep red fabric as heavy as the chains she could not see but could feel in every step she was forced to take. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as the realization settled deeper into her bones. The room was deathly silent, the air thick with the scent of incense and candle wax.

Jeon stood before her, a predator draped in black and gold, exuding dominance with every breath. His patience was a thinly veiled thing, stretching dangerously as he watched her remain still, unmoving, unyielding.

"Come forward," he commanded, his voice steady but edged with warning.

Her feet refused to move.

In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his fingers wrapping around her wrist in an iron grip. He yanked her forward, forcing her to stumble against his chest.

“You speak of power as if it is something I would give you,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft, venom laced beneath the words. “You forget your place.”

She gasped, struggling against his grip, but he was relentless, his fingers digging into her wrist as he pulled her through the vast hall.

"You will stand beside me, Y/N," he said, voice cold, final. "But a throne is not something I share."

He did not stop until they stood before the officiant.

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Jeon studied her for a moment before sighing, almost in disappointment.

“I was willing to grant you this wedding without force. To let you walk beside me, instead of dragging you like a conquered spoil of war.”

“I did not win this kingdom with patience. I won it with blood.”

Then, louder, he addressed the officiant. “Begin.”

The ceremony was as empty as her heart. No grand feast, no celebration. Just her, him and the officiant bearing witness to the binding of a vow. She repeated them in a hollow whisper, her voice barely her own.

But as he pulled her in for the final kiss, sealing her beneath his name, his rule.

He tasted the salt of her tears on her lips.

For a moment, just a moment, he felt the bitter sting of something less than victory.

Because despite binding her to him, despite claiming her, despite stealing her body, her name. He felt the weight of something he could not conquer.

He had burned kingdoms for her. Killed kings for her. Stolen her from the ashes of a life she never wanted. Yet her sadness was a wound he could not stitch.

Jeon had indeed won the war.

But he had not won her.

__

(End)🤍

[bunny-jpeg]

better than home (kidnapper!simon) - you had seen enough horror movies to know that being kidnapped meant being on the news, being butchered, and being a cold case. but simon wasn't like that. except for the bruises he left when he took you, his touch had gentle. kind in a way that someone would brush their cat.

you flinched under his touch, but he just simply shushed you. "not gonna break a thing on ya, angel." that was his name for you. angel. he said that it was like you were given to him fro heaven, "if i do, i give ya the right to put a knife between my ribs."

it was unnerving to say the least. in the tiny home you both shared, locks on the windows, you had never seen a front door that needed a key to unlock from the outside. you tried getting out, but simon was simply so much bigger and stronger, that he didn't need to hurt you herd you back into a safer place.

"don't need to think about much anymore. safer here." he said in his gruff voice. you didn't know what kind of life this man had lived, but with the hunting knife on the coffee table, the well-used rifle over the fireplace and the old army formals in his closet. you knew that there was a story.

it didn't sink in till the first week, but you didn't have to worry about anything. you moved through the house on your own, when you scurried into rooms simon sometimes didn't follow. it was like he was bird-watching. keeping a close eye and admiring you. except you weren't exactly a free bird, rather a delicate beauty in a shiny cage.

you were surprised that simon had your favourite snacks in the pantry, even the same brand of plant-based milk you enjoyed. it was like he knew everything about you, and yet he was a total mystery.

"scary world out there." simon said, kept his distance from you in the recliner while you were curled up in the couch. you had taken a liking to a black and white checkered flannel blanket. it reminded you of the one back home, that you wondered if he just broke in a took it. he eyed you, which made it hard to read one of your many books, "pretty things like you need to be protected... bad men out there." as if this massive mountain of a man wasn't one of those so-called bad men.

you were in no place to argue. you still felt like you were in a spring locked trap and one wrong move would have it clamped down on you. that this was just some sick game before simon buried your body in the field behind the house.

"when can i go home?" you asked, finding your voice.

"this is better than home."

"are you going to kill me?" you asked before you swallowed the lump in your throat.

he shook his head, "no, ma'am. never." sounded like wedding vows rather than an answer. your curiosity only grew with each day. when you finished the books he brought you, he simply put them back in a bag and returned them from where they came from and came back with new ones.

"saw them on the shelf at the library, thought a woman like you would like them." he gave a curt nod as he dropped the canvas bag by your little nest of blankets on the floor by the television. you hadn't been able to watch television yet. primarily busied with sleeping, books, puzzles and notebooks where you had been writing.

and while it started a journal in the event the police found you. it had become more about fictional stories. for your personal pleasure. you thought about being a writer as a child, but the grind of corporate work in your adulthood seemed to dash that dream.

"next time." you said, feeling a little bold, "can you get some science fiction books too...." it felt uneasy to make any demands. he was your captor.

"well then, angel. be good for me then." he said, smiled under that mask. you looked over and made a face at him. you scampered off back into your nest of books and puzzles. maybe he was right, this was better than home. <3

a/n: this is unwell, i hope you enjoyed it. thank you!!

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

topper and kelce accidentally walking in while rafe fucks reader.

❛ INTERRUPTED WHILE RAFE FUCKS YOU ❜

girlfriend¡reader . . . rafe cameron

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe growled, his voice a low, gravelly snarl, dripping with dominance. His hips snapped forward, driving into you hard enough to make the bedframe groan in protest.

“This pussy’s mine, huh? Takin’ me like you were made for it.” His smirk was all teeth, a cocky edge to it that made your stomach flip even as your mind spun from the intensity.

He had you pinned, one hand gripping your thigh so hard his fingers left red imprints, the other braced beside your head on the mattress.

Your legs were splayed wide, trembling as he fucked you with a relentless, punishing rhythm. His cock—thick, hard, and unforgiving—slammed into you with a force that made your whole body jolt.

The wet, lewd slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Each thrust stretched you open, the head of him dragging against your slick walls, hitting that spot deep inside that turned your moans into broken, desperate cries.

You couldn’t answer—not coherently. Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his tanned skin, leaving jagged red lines that only seemed to egg him on. “Rafe—oh fuck, Rafe,” you gasped, your voice splintering as he shifted his angle, his cock plunging deeper, grinding against your cervix.

Your thighs quaked, slick with sweat and the mess of your arousal, your cunt clenching around him so tight it drew a sharp hiss from his lips.

The pressure was building, a hot, coiling ache in your core that had your eyes fluttering shut and your mouth falling open.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he rasped, “Look at you, fuckin’ wrecked for me.” His tongue flicked out, tracing the shell of your ear before his teeth grazed your lobe, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

His pace was brutal, hips rolling with a precision that was both calculated and wild, like he was trying to imprint himself on every inch of you.

The headboard banged against the wall in time with his thrusts, a steady thump-thump-thump that matched the obscene squelch of your bodies colliding.

Your breasts bounced with each stroke, nipples brushing his chest, sending sparks of heat through you. One of his hands slid up, rough palm cupping your breast, squeezing hard before his fingers pinched your nipple, twisting just enough to make you yelp.

The sting blended with the pleasure, pushing you closer to the edge. “Rafe—I can’t—” you whimpered, your words cutting off as he thrust even harder, the bed creaking louder under the assault.

“Can’t what? Take it? Too fuckin’ bad,” he taunted, his voice thick with pride. His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, ruthless circles. “You’re gonna cum for me, and I’m gonna feel every damn second of it.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, the coil snapping as your orgasm hit like a freight train.

Your walls spasmed around him, soaking his cock as you screamed his name, hips bucking wildly beneath him. Your vision blurred, stars exploding behind your eyelids as your nails sank deeper into his shoulders.

Rafe groaned, low and filthy, his thrusts growing sloppy as he chased his own high, still pounding into you through your climax.

“That’s it—fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, his smirk widening as he watched you fall apart. He was mid-thrust, his cock buried deep, when the door suddenly burst open.

Topper and Kelce stumbled in, their laughter dying on their lips as they froze, eyes bugging out at the sight. You were still trembling, mid-orgasm, your legs spread and Rafe’s hips pressed flush against yours.

The wet sounds of sex hung heavy in the air, unmistakable, as the two of them stood there, jaws dropped.

Your face flushed crimson, mortification crashing over you like a tidal wave. “Oh my God—get out!” you shrieked, scrambling to pull the sheet up over yourself, your hands shaking as you tried to cover your exposed body.

Your voice was high-pitched, panicked, your chest heaving as embarrassment burned through the haze of pleasure.

Rafe, though? He didn’t even flinch. He didn’t stop moving—not right away. He gave one more lazy, deliberate thrust, making sure Topper and Kelce got the full fucking picture, before he turned his head toward them, smirking like the smug bastard he was.

“What? You jealous or somethin’?” he drawled, his tone dripping with arrogance.

His grip tightened on your thigh, keeping you pinned beneath him as he finally stilled, his cock still buried inside you. He glanced down at you, then back at them, his smirk widening.

Topper blinked, hands raised in surrender, a mix of shock and amusement flickering across his face. “Dude—shit, man, we didn’t know! Lock the fuckin’ door!”

Kelce was already backing out, choking on a laugh, his hand over his mouth like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. “You’re a dick, Cameron,” he managed, shaking his head as he pulled Topper with him.

The door slammed shut, their muffled voices fading down the hall, and you buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m never showing my face again,” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms, your entire body hot with shame.

Rafe just chuckled, low and dark, leaning down to kiss the side of your neck like nothing had happened. “Relax,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your pulse. “They’re just mad they’ll never get a taste.” His hand slid up your side, possessive and unapologetic, his cock twitching inside you as he added, “You’re still mine, though. Let ‘em fuckin’ watch.”

𓂅 notes ―

return home ⸝⸝

©RAFESGREASYCURTAINBANGS ꪆৎ est. 2025

[rafessecret]

What about step!bro!rafes friends talking about his step!sister in a very explicit way and step!sister walks in and step!bro rafe makes her sit on his lap and has his hand moving very high up on her thigh and his friends are just watching

⋆˚࿔ step¡sister reader && rafe cameron

SAY GOODNIGHT TO MY FRIENDS.

The air in the room was thick with cologne, whisky, and something else—something darker. The low murmur of voices, the occasional clink of ice against glass, the lazy sound of Rafe chuckling under his breath—it all blended together into a space that felt hazy, heavy, dangerous. 

Topper let out a low breath, shaking his head, his voice tinged with something between disbelief and fascination. ❝Man, it’s fucked. You’re fucked. Your own stepsister? And she just—what? Let's you? ❞

Kelce scoffed, shifting uncomfortably, but his eyes gleamed with something dark. ❝Let’s be real. She isn’t just letting him. You’ve seen her, man. She’s��built for it. All soft and sweet, prancing around the house in those little skirts, acting like she doesn’t have a clue. Like she isn’t begging ’for it. ❞ He let out a slow chuckle, shaking his head. ❝Swear to God, Rafe, she’s the kind of girl that doesn’t even need to know what she’s doing to drive a man insane.❞

Rafe just grinned, stretching out lazily, like he hadn’t already thought about this a thousand times over. ❝She doesn’t even realise,❞ he murmured, tilting his head like he was indulging in a fond memory. ❝Doesn’t get why I always want to touch her, always want to spread those pretty thighs open. Have you ever seen a girl cry when she comes? Fuckin’ sob for it? She gets all wet and shaky, like she can’t handle it, but then she’s grinding down, chasing it. ❞ He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. ❝Shit, man. You should hear the noises she makes when I stuff her full. Little gasps, like she’s struggling to take it—like she knows she shouldn’t.❞

Kelce cursed under his breath, shifting where he sat. ❝Fuck, bro. What’s she like when you really wreck her? ❞

Rafe smirked, biting his lip, eyes dark with something possessive. ❝You ever fuck a girl so dumb she can’t even speak? Just little whimpers, eyes all glossy, like she’s ruined for anything else? ❞ His fingers tapped lazily against his thigh. ❝She sucks my fingers just to keep quiet. Like she knows she shouldn’t be moaning my name like that. Fuckin’ clampsaround me like she’s trying to keep me inside. ❞ He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. ❝And the way she looks afterwards? All fucked out, all mine? Man, I don’t even think she gets how dirty she is. ❞

You hadn’t been paying attention at first, padding barefoot through the hallway, the sleeves of Rafe’s old t-shirt hanging long past your wrists, your body warm from sleep. You just wanted to find him. You hadn’t even thought about whether he’d have company, not when he’d spent all of dinner teasing you under the table, slipping his hand onto your thigh just to watch you squirm. But then, just before you pushed open the door, you heard them.

❝—so fuckin’ tight, huh?❞ Kelce laughs, voice dripping with disbelief.

❝Nah, man, you don’t get it.❞ Rafe’s voice was low and drawling, each word rolling slow and smug from his lips. ❝She cries when I put it in. Every single time. Like a good girl.❞

You froze.

Kelce made a strained noise, somewhere between disbelief and something much filthier, and Rafe only chuckled. ❝Yeah, yeah, I know. I thought it was fucked up at first too, but she’s just so sweet about it, man. Always getting all wet just from me playing with her. Can’t help myself. ❞

Your stomach plummeted. A silence stretched. Heavy. Loaded. Like they didn’t quite know what to say, like maybe they should speak up, but maybe they didn’t want to.

And then Topper, voice rough and barely there, muttered, ❝You’re saying she lets you do whatever you want?❞

Rafe scoffed. Amused. ❝Let me? Bro, she fucking needs it. I get her worked up, and she’s a mess. It’s adorable. She looks so guilty about it too, but the second I start touching her, she’s mine. I swear, I could get her to do anything.❞

Heat rushed to your face, humiliation prickling in your chest. They were talking about you, talking about what Rafe did to you, laughing about it like it was some kind of joke. But before you could run, before you could even process it, Rafe’s head turned toward the doorway. He saw you.

And he smirked.

❝Speak of the fuckin’ devil,❞ he drawled, and just like that, three pairs of eyes snapped toward you.

For a second, everything was silent. You felt it, the way their gazes drifted, the way they took you in—bare legs, soft thighs, the hem of Rafe’s t-shirt barely skimming the tops of your panties. The way your skin still had that post-sleep glow, a little too flushed, a little too warm, a little too wrecked from how Rafe had kept you up last night.

Kelce was the first to swallow hard, like he had to physically force himself to hold his tongue. Topper shifted, jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek, but he didn’t look away.

Rafe, lounging back with a whisky in his hand like he owned the room, crooned, ❝C’mere, baby.❞ And before you could think, before you could process what a terrible fucking idea it was, you obeyed.

Rafe pulled you straight onto his lap the second you got close, arms winding around your waist, possessive, like he was staking his claim. You went rigid, barely breathing, hyperaware of the way his friends were still watching—watching his hands drift beneath the hem of your borrowed shirt, watching the way he spread his thighs beneath you, making sure you were settled perfectly between them.

Kelce swore under his breath, and Rafe chuckled, gaze flicking between his friends. ❝What? Thought I was making it up? ❞ You squirmed, breath hitching as Rafe’s fingers dragged higher, too high, teasing the band of your panties.

Topper exhaled sharply, the kind of sound someone makes when they know they should look away but can’t. Kelce wasn’t even pretending not to stare anymore, his fingers curling into his knee like he was holding back something filthy.

Rafe’s hand flexed over your thigh. ❝You shy, baby? You weren’t shy last night.❞ Heat rushed through you, mortification curling hot and heavy in your gut. Your lips trembled, but Rafe tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. ❝Don’t you, baby?❞

You swallowed, and when Rafe raised a brow, you nodded. Topper cursed, running a hand through his hair, but he still didn’t look away. Kelce had his hand over his mouth now, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, like he wasn’t sure if he was jealous of Rafe or of you.

And then, slowly, deliberately, Rafe kissed you. Not soft. Not innocent. Not like a brother should kiss his sweet little stepsister.

He devoured you, lips sliding over yours with an obscene amount of hunger, tongue pushing into your mouth, tasting you, making sure his friends saw exactly how you melted for him, how you didn’t even try to resist. Kelce shifted, jaw tight. Topper exhaled sharply, almost like he was in pain.

And Rafe?

Rafe just grinned against your mouth, breaking the kiss with a lazy, smug, victorious smirk. ❝Yeah, I think they get it now.❞ His fingers skimmed between your thighs, teasing.

❝Go on, baby. Say goodnight to my friends.❞ Your voice barely came out. ❝…Goodnight.❞

Kelce cleared his throat.

Topper finally stood. Rafe just chuckled, already dragging his fingers beneath your panties, whispering, ❝That’s my girl. Letting me show you off like that. ❞

Then the door slammed, leaving you alone with him. And before you could catch your breath, he was already ruining you again.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : ohhh, anon, you filthy thing thank you for this idea—i had way too much fun with it! sorry it got a little long, but you know i had to do it justice 😌 rafe is such a smug, possessive perv, and you?? you’re just his sweet little thing, letting him have his way.

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025