#the rage and disbelief are barely controlled

[wickcdmindz]

the bite came before cain could stop it. the pain was sharp, slicing through the haze of her focus like a blade. she felt teeth in her shoulder, felt mud in her eyes, felt humiliation flicker hot and violent beneath her skin.

and then she bit back. hard.

her head snapped down like a wolf on instinct, mouth clamping down hard against bodie’s collarbone—not enough to maim, but enough to bruise, to mark. the slight shake of her head before cain’s lips dragged away, breath shaking, eyes blown wide.

but it wasn’t just rage. it was... thrill. white-hot and stupidly alive.

she was so caught off guard she didn’t realize her grip had slackened until it was too late. her body had shifted, posture off—bodie had moved her. even if just barely.

that infuriated her.

cain growled, deep and brutal, and shoved her thigh forward again to pin bodie harder against the riverbed. "you’re out of your mind," she snarled, voice rough with disbelief and—gods help her—admiration. "you bit me?"

a grin split her face, wet with river water and mud.

"good. now i don’t have to be gentle anymore."

she adjusted her grip—stronger this time. bruising. but it wasn’t about hurting bodie anymore. it was about containing her. about proving she could. her whole body trembled with the effort to stay in control. to keep from letting the part of her that wanted to ravage and wreck run wild.

because now, bodie wasn’t just prey.

she was something rarer. something dangerous. something that made cain’s blood sing.

she leaned in, lips brushing bodie’s ear, voice ragged:

"you better pray she comes down here before i decide to find out how deep I can bury my teeth."

and for once, cain didn’t know if that was a threat… or a promise.

oh.

oh.

dylan’s whole body lit up with a quiet, pulsing thrill the moment bodie lunged. the moment mud hit skin. the moment those perfect little teeth sank in. she didn’t flinch. didn’t gasp. just… tilted her head, eyes narrowing like she was watching a storm roll in over the edge of the world.

and then cain bit back.

dylan grinned. slow. dangerous. hungry.

"there she is," she whispered, almost reverent. "little beast."

her nails bit into her own palm as she watched cain falter—not by much, but enough. enough for dylan to see the slip, the crack in cain’s otherwise unshakable hold. enough to know bodie wasn’t bluff and bravado. she was feral through. no fear. no pretending.

and she bit first.

dylan’s pulse thrummed behind her ribs like applause. she moved to the edge of the riverbank, still watching, voice low but clear enough to carry:

"that was brilliant, sweetheart," she called to bodie. "but just so we’re clear—cain’s bite? that’s not punishment." a beat. "it’s her way of saying she likes you."

a dangerous smile tugged at her lips. "mine will mean something different."

and she meant it. because dylan didn’t just want to tame bodie. she wanted to earn that resistance. twist it into obedience slowly—intimately. one snapped nerve at a time. and now?

now she had to have her.

bodie stayed perfectly still, didn't move an inch - all but let her body go limp. she could feel cain's breathing rattling in her own chest, and she wanted it gone. wanted it to just be her heartbeat and the lapping of water coexisting in the cavity together. the rhythm didn't move effortlessly - it was wrong.

dylan's voice merged with the water clinging to her, unwelcome and distracting. she didn't react to the accusation, the mention of being hurt. bodie didn't fear pain, she feared being kept.

that sentence caught her attention. her lips parted to bare her teeth, exactly how they did back in the tree - bodie wasn't prey to them because she ran. she ran because they'd already decided that's what she was. the lack of honesty tugged at the strings of irritation slowly twining together.

she growled right back at cain's tone. a little darker this time. more serious. she wouldn't crawl for them, not for cain and not for her. they hadn't earned her submission, didn't deserve it. hadn't proved themselves so they weren't going to get it.

beneath the surface of the water, bodie's hands pushed under the sediment, fingers digging, curling. it wasn't about being frustrated, it was about making a move.

suddenly, her legs wrapped around cain's waist; locked in place, tight, to better use her core strength. she might have cain beat in agility, but the arm across her chest had told her she was no match in pure physical strength. her fists closed around handfuls of silt and mud, and just as quickly bodie threw her hands out, somewhere between throwing it and smearing it over the woman's face, water dripping from her arms like an extension of herself.

then her hands kept moving, winding behind cain to tug her closer, forcing her body up to eliminate more of the space between them - and hopefully, soon enough, throw her off kilter. bodie didn't think, just lurched forward teeth first with the intent to bite. latch on. shoulder, arm, it didn't matter - didn't matter if she drew blood, either.

[aomiiine]

PRAEDATOR CALEB who was assigned for you to monitor and investigate down in at his prison, chains on restraining his wrists together behind his back. His demeanour was menacing, cruel, infuriatingly teasing—overall unfriendly. Yet despite it all, he keeps fishing for your attention.

you were enforcer, someone tasked to take care of praedators like him. Your prisoners were supposed to be yours to control, but somehow with Caleb, it was like you were his plaything instead.

Ridiculous, you thought. He should be under your rule. And that was exactly what he wanted too.

So here you were, in the darkness of his confines, defined jaw in your firm grasp as he bared his teeth at you, attempting to fight against his muzzle. His dog tag was nestled into his mouth, your thumb against his lip making sure it stayed there. Caleb was frustrated, no doubt. Sexually so.

��Think putting your pretty heels on my thigh’s gonna do something, dear enforcer? You’ll have to get bolder,” the chained man taunted, suppressing a groan that threatened to erupt from his throat at the feeling of your sharp heel pressing down hard on his inner thigh, the flat surface of the sole grazing close to the raging erection he had throbbing in the confines of his pants. But it seemed like he refused to acknowledge it, keeping fierce eye-contact with you shamelessly even at his unsaid intentions to use your anger to get him off.

MDNI (18+) -> you get him off with your heels, perv/shameless caleb, light dirty talking, restraints (he’s chained up), eye-fucking your tits, he’s so fucking down bad lol, dom-ish reader but caleb intends to regain control

“You’re a sick perv,” you spat with a glower.

“Quit talking as if you aren’t one too,” caleb scoffed with a sneer, spitting the dog tag out with canines gleaming under the fleeting white lights of the officers light-tower.

Your face heats up a fraction at his swift response, brows knitting in disbelief at his brazen words, foot pressing harder in retaliation.

“Fuck, cat really got your tongue, huh?” The praedator hissed at the pressure, hips rolling in search for more of that delicious friction he desperately needed. He didn’t care if you were an enforcer tasked to tame him—his heart and mind demanded your attention and touch, regardless of how he gets it.

“If that’s the case, then you should really give me the opportunity to bite it next,” he said soon after he adjusted to the new sensation, feral eyes now flickering frantically between your eyes and the heel on his cock—soon to be, on his cock.

“Unbelievable,” you exhaled sharply, finally deciding to put him out of his pitiful misery for friction and using the flat surface of your shoe to press of his hard on, making little to no effort to rub his aching flesh up and down, earning a deep moan from him.

It was almost like he was on the brink of ecstasy already, lips parted for quick breaths through gritted teeth. Caleb’s chains rattled wildly, forearms and biceps flexing from how much he wanted to move much more, to grind up against the firm surface of your heel. The sight mesmerised you, leaving you entranced and sinfully wanting to see more of your unpredictable praedator.

so you exerted more force, showing mercy by setting up a steady pace that would surely get him. And true to thought, it did. In seconds, he was panting like a dog, chest heaving up and down and hips jerking forward desperately.

“Goddamn, officer, you really know how to please a rabid stray,” he grunted, head thrown back then forth when he felt his cock twitch in his pants, growing painfully aroused that he could feel the pre-cum drench his boxers. “Gotta do this more often, officer,” he huffed, drawing in you in with a glance up to you, a dreamy smile that felt more seductively mischievous and less scheming.

“Hmph. Dream on, Caleb,” you tsked, crossing your arms over your chest, amplifying the curves of your tits that he began to eye-fuck the rest of the time. What was worse is that you knew that he was doing it—you just didn’t say or do anything to stop him. You liked it, seeing him having to swallow the saliva that collected in his mouth in his attempt to not drool at the sight of your standing tall over him. It made you feel in control, wanted—even though the control was truly in his busy hands rather than yours. He’ll take you down from that high as soon as he gets the lock of those chains binding his wrists open. Then, you’ll be the one seeing him from above.

[maskedbyghost]

it's a happy ending, i promise!

The first thing Simon registers is pain.

A dull, burning throb in his ribs, a sharp sting along his jaw, and the constant, nagging ache of his wrists tied behind the chair he’s strapped to. The room is dimly lit, damp with the scent of mildew and blood—some of it his own. He keeps his breathing even and controlled, despite the way his head pounds from the last hit they landed.

A man steps forward, cracking his knuckles. "You’ve killed a lot of our people, Ghost." The way he says his name makes Simon's stomach churn. "You really thought that wouldn’t come back to bite you?"

Simon doesn’t answer. He’s learned silence is its own weapon.

The man chuckles and gestures to one of his men, who rolls a small television stand into the room. The screen flickers to life, static at first, before it settles on an all-too-familiar image.

Simon’s house.

His breath stills. The camera angle is high—hidden, probably in a corner of the living room. And there she is.

You.

Moving around the kitchen, completely unaware. A soft glow from the stovetop lights up your face as you hum to yourself, stirring something in a pot. Simon can almost hear your voice, that familiar melody you always hum when you’re cooking.

Ice settles in his chest.

"You see," the man continues, circling Simon like a predator, "an eye for an eye. You took our people from us. Now we take something from you."

The screen changes. Another angle. The front of the house now, where three men slip through the unlocked door like shadows. They move fast.

"Now, we could just kill her," the man muses, crouching beside Simon. "But where’s the fun in that? Maybe we start with a few fingers. Maybe a knife to that pretty face."

Simon jerks against the restraints, the chair creaking beneath him. His muscles coil with panic, and rage. His voice is muffled against the tape over his mouth, his heart hammering in his chest.

He watches as the men move closer—one creeping toward the kitchen doorway. He wants to scream, wants to warn you, to do something.

And then—

You turn.

And everything shifts.

The first man lunges.

You sidestep easily, grabbing a pan off the counter and slamming it into his face so hard he crumples instantly. The second man barely gets a hand on you before you spin, kneeing him hard in the gut before driving an elbow into his throat. He staggers, gasping, and you grab a knife from the counter, plunging it straight into his chest.

The third man hesitates.

Simon can see it—hesitation—as if he just realized this isn’t the easy job he thought it would be. He tries to pull a gun.

But you’re faster.

You twist his arm, forcing the gun toward his own leg before squeezing the trigger. He howls, dropping to his knees, and you grab the knife from the dead man’s chest, slashing the last attacker’s throat in one clean motion.

Silence.

The only sound is your heavy breathing.

The room Simon is in is frozen. No one speaks. No one moves.

"What the fuck," one of the men behind the camera mutters.

Simon can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. His body is still tense, his pulse still erratic, but his mind is caught between disbelief and something close to admiration.

He didn’t know you could do that.

Hell, he didn’t even know you knew how to throw a punch properly, let alone take down three armed men like it was nothing.

On screen, you quickly search the bodies, taking one of their guns and their earpiece. Then, without missing a beat, you grab your jacket and bolt out the door.

The man next to Simon snarls, grabbing a radio. "Find her!" he shouts. "She couldn't have gone far!"

Simon lowers his head, exhaling through his nose, swallowing down the relieved laugh bubbling in his throat.

That’s his girl.

It takes hours for you to track Simon down. Hours of listening in on enemy radio chatter and moving with the precision you never thought you’d need outside of training. Your heart pounds, but your hands remain steady as you grip the stolen gun.

When you finally pick up on the radio chatter—"Move the prisoner to the safehouse outside the city"—you know exactly who to ask for help.

The moment you contacted Price, he didn’t even hesitate. "We’re on it," he had said, and that was that. Now, as you move through the safehouse with the Task Force, the sound of suppressed gunfire fills the air as they clear the rooms.

Your thoughts are simple. Find Simon. Get him out.

When you reach the back room, you kick the door open so hard it nearly flies off the hinges.

Simon lifts his head at the sound, and the sight of him knocks the air from your lungs.

He’s tied to a chair, his wrists raw from the rope digging into them. There’s blood at his temple and a bruise darkening along his cheekbone. His mask is gone, and his hair is damp with sweat. But it’s his eyes that stop you in your tracks—sharp despite the exhaustion, locked onto you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters.

"Jesus, Simon," you breathe, already moving.

You reach him in seconds, hands shaking as you rip the tape from his mouth.

"Fuckin’ hell, love," he rasps, his voice hoarse.

"You look like shit," you mutter, and his lips quirk up at that, just a little.

"Feel like it too."

But you’re already working, fingers fumbling at the knots around his wrists, trying to ignore the way they’re rubbed raw. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you? How bad is it—"

He cuts you off.

"Marry me, woman."

You freeze. "What?"

"Marry me." And there’s no hesitation in his voice.

You blink, mind struggling to process. "Simon, are you concussed?"

"Dead serious, love," he mutters. His head tilts slightly, eyes flicking to the doorway behind you. "Get me outta this chair first, then we’ll talk rings."

Behind you, a low chuckle sounds. "Well, that’s one way to propose," Price comments, stepping into the room.

"Should we give ‘em a minute?" Soap adds, grinning.

You don’t even look back. "No, because I’m gonna kill him."

Simon snorts, and somehow, despite everything, that tiny sound makes your chest ache.

Your fingers work faster, finally loosening the ropes enough for him to yank his arms free with a hiss of pain. The second he’s out of the chair, your hands are all over him—checking his bruises, pressing against his ribs to see if anything gives under your touch.

He catches your wrist. "I’m fine."

You glare up at him. "You’re not fine."

"M’fine now that you’re here."

And there it is again—that way he looks at you, like you just flipped his entire world upside down and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

You shake your head, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, exhaling hard. "You scared the hell out of me, Simon."

His hand slides up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your jacket. "Didn’t know you could fight like that, love."

"Yeah, well, I don’t advertise it." You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. "Didn’t think I’d ever need to."

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Lucky me."

"Lucky you," you agree, voice softer now.

Simon’s thumb brushes against your cheek, and there’s something raw in his expression. "So, that’s a yes, then?"

"To what?"

"Marry me."

"Simon—"

"You literally just saved my ass. Killed three men in our kitchen. Lookin’ downright stunning doin’ it." He squeezes your waist. "Think I’d be an idiot not to put a ring on you."

You stare at him, pulse thudding in your ears. "Simon, you’re literally bleeding out right now."

"And?" He tilts his head slightly, looking at you like he’s already made up his mind. "Still waiting on an answer, love."

You groan, pressing your fingers to your temple. "Can we please get you out of here first?"

"So that’s a yes?"

"It’s a 'get moving before I knock you out myself.'"

His smirk is lazy, but there’s something warm in his eyes, something real. "Close enough."

Behind you, Soap snorts. "Bloody hell, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard."

Price sighs. "Sort it out later. We need to move."

You shake your head, but when Simon tugs you just a little closer before letting go—you know he already knows your answer.

-----------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[enhaflixer]

omg you’ve been pumping out so much enha hard hours lately (which i love but) i think i need some fluff with a bit of angst to cleanse my soul a little :’) can i please request a ni-ki fluff/angst (happy ending) fic/drabble? 🙏🏻

youre so lucky cuz i alr had one written!!!!!

Mad bf! riki x f!reader - figure it out

-

Riki is on the couch, arms crossed, one leg bouncing, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually break a tooth.

And he won’t even look at you.

You stand near him, arms folded, trying to control your own irritation as you watch him glare at the TV without actually watching it. His fingers tap against his arm, his entire vibe screaming judgment and pettiness.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask hesitantly.

No response.

Just a sharp inhale through his nose, a slow blink, and the bounce of his knee picking up speed like he’s calculating how much he wants to ruin your day.

“Riki.” You step closer, tone softer. “Talk to me.”

Nothing.

Not even a glance in your direction.

Your patience starts disintegrating at an alarming rate.

“Riki, seriously, what did I do?”

That’s when he finally moves, head tilting, gaze dragging over you so slow and disapproving you almost feel shamed.

“You don’t know?” he says, voice flat, unimpressed, full of condescending disbelief.

Your stomach drops.

Oh, he’s so mad.

“I” You pause, brain scrambling. “I swear, I don’t. Just tell me,”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you,” he cuts in, shifting on the couch, throwing his arm over the back like some sort of self-righteous villain. His brows lift, his lips curl slightly. “You should already know.”

You exhale sharply, frustration bubbling up like lava. “You expect me to just guess?”

Riki scoffs, shaking his head like you’re the dumbest person on Earth.

“I expect you to use your fucking brain for two seconds and figure it out,” he deadpans, leaning back like he’s above this conversation.

You stare at him. “You are literally insufferable.”

“And you are literally the worst,” he fires back, arms tightening over his chest, voice dripping with exaggerated disappointment.

Your jaw drops. “EXCUSE me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters, tilting his head dramatically, like he’s exhausted just having to interact with you.

You blink, fully processing. “You’re being so fucking dramatic right now.”

Riki lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Ohhh, I’m dramatic?” He presses a hand to his chest like you just personally attacked his character. “Says the person who, oh wait, I forgot, you don’t even know what you fucking did.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Riki, I swear, if you don’t just--”

“You ate my leftovers.”

You stop. Blink.

Process.

Slowly, incredulously, you look at him.

“…What?”

Riki tilts his head. “You. Ate. My. Leftovers.”

Your right eye twitches.

“I—” You shake your head. “Wait. You’re mad because I ate your leftovers?”

His arms cross even tighter, his jaw clenching, lips pressing into a pout. “I was looking forward to that meal.”

You let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, throwing your hands up. “You’ve been ignoring me, judging me, for hours over fucking takeout?”

Riki lifts his chin slightly, narrowing his eyes like you just disrespected his ancestors.

“Not just takeout. My takeout.”

“Oh my fucking God.” You drag a hand over your face, palms pressing into your eyes to physically contain your rage.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Wow. The guilt isn’t even hitting you. You really don’t give a fuck.”

You drop your hands, jaw tightening. “It’s food, Riki.”

“It’s betrayal is what it is,” he mutters, tilting his head dramatically, looking away like he can’t even stand to be in the same room as you.

“You’re acting like I cheated on you.”

“Honestly? It’s worse.” He lifts a brow. “At least if you cheated, I wouldn’t have to see the empty fucking container in the trash.”

You actually gasp, hands flying to your chest. “You’re INSANE!”

“And you’re inconsiderate!”

You stare at him, baffled, barely suppressing the urge to swing. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.” He huffs, shaking his head, throwing a dramatic arm over the couch again.

You exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Riki. I will literally buy you another meal if you stop acting like I committed a federal crime.”

His eyes flicker back to yours, narrowing slightly, considering.

“With extra sauce?”

“Yes, with extra sauce.”

“And a drink?”

“Oh my GOD, yes you bitch, and a drink.”

Riki clicks his tongue, shaking his head, arms unfolding.

“You got lucky this time,” he mutters, standing up, grabbing his keys.

You glare at him, jaw tightening. “No, you got lucky that I didn’t lose my mind and start throwing hands.”

Riki grins, smug, stepping past you.

“Figure it out.”

[obeymeluv]

Getting Kidnapped was Not on the List! [Malleus x Reader]

Trigger warnings: Mentions of being eaten alive. Mentions of body pain/descriptions of shifting.

Not proofread.

The future king of Briar Valley isn't sure why he has such a feeling of impending doom, but it worries at him. He looks out the window of his room in Diasomnia as if he can see across the cobblestone and into town where you're supposed to be shopping right now. Malleus hums, green eyes narrowing as the book he's reading presses into his lower lip.

Yes, something is certainly amiss.

He feels tingly, like his very nerves are pricking and sparking at something. Malleus stands to his full height, putting the book down as he makes his way outside. There's nothing unusual in the sky, no ominous clouds, but he feels the shimmer of a glamour in the air.

It's faint, but he can sense it. Nowhere near the school, he'd gather. Wherever it is, he can't quite pinpoint it. He heads back inside to grab some snacks for the crows and ravens that call the trees around Diasomnia home. Hearing the familiar rattle of croutons, seeds, and nuts, a few of them perk up and call curiously. "Come, my friends!" Malleus encourages, sitting on the stone bench outside the dorm. They swarm, wings fluttering impatiently as he picks balanced handfuls and lays them at their feet. "Now that you're fed," Malleus leans down to them and speaks casually, like he's having tea with Sebek or Lilia, "would you mind doing a bit of scouting for me? There seems to be an active glamour and I'm curious. You would be rewarded handsomely, I assure you." They take off and he chuckles. Loyal familiars, birds. His grandmother adores them, too. Malleus brushes crumbs and bits from his pants, pushing off of the bench. All at once his chest seizes and Malleus startles.

It's enough to knock the air out of him. Is it...terror?

His phone rings in his pocket and he fishes for it, growling through the fluttering squeeze in his chest. "Hello?"

"Malleus! Help me, please!"

"Child of Man?! What's wrong?!" Malleus felt his fangs growing, threatening to cut his own tongue. The tremble in your voice, the fear, sent his stomach churning and boiling. He could feel the muscles in his back rippling as he lost his grip on his own glamour, the extra ligaments and bones needed for his wings threatening to tear his human shoulders as he staved off shifting from a biped to a quadruped.

"You dare call upon the future king?!" he heard a voice sneer with rage and disbelief. "Insolent, disgusting thing!"

"How dare you?!" Malleus roars, wincing as his jaw pops a little. His human mouth pales in comparison to the wide maw of his dragon form. Pearly teeth click against each other as they begin lose their human shape. "You shall not address my Child of Man in such a way!"

"My liege, please--"

"You call me liege but fail to state your name! That is TRUE insolence!" Malleus feels the claw on his thumb cut his cheek. He doesn't care. "To WHOM do I speak?"

"E-Elm Leafdance, sire."

The name is somewhat familiar. He vaguely recalls a miserly fae always moping about and telling old tales about horrible humans. Everyone in the castle could recite them word for word. Lilia was at odds with him, he recalled. At one point Elm had been accused of kidnapping Silver but Lilia never made a formal complaint before the court so it faded into obscurity.

"Unhand my Child of Man, Leafdance! If you have qualms with them, I shall be addressed in their stead. Come to me at once!"

"A most generous offer, young king," the fae is stuttering now, "but leaving would prove costly to, your, um...Child of Man..."

He can barely comprehend through the haze of rage. Malleus feels his chest burning to a nauseating degree, the green fire begging to be set free. Wisps of smoke slither from his lips. He snorts, expelling most of it. If Leafdance cannot leave you unattended, that means you're at the mercy of some kind of enchantment with sentience that he controls.

That sentience would diminish with distance and who knows how that would leave you? Clearly you're being restrained if it would prove 'costly'. The idea of you being in any peril ESPECIALLY from a fae has Malleus seething. His phone is barely holding on; Malleus can feel the fractured screen poking his cheek.

He turns sharply towards Diasomnia, half-floating as he jumps from ledge to crenel, climbing up a merlon to stare at the town in the distance. "Raise your sigil and I shall come to you." Malleus snaps the phone even though he tried to mash the 'end call' button. Putting his thumb through it just pressed everything inward and it crumpled like a can.

Malleus casts the broken phone aside, watching the sky out of the corner of his eye as he ascends the main tower of Diasomnia. It is one of the taller point on campus, only rivaled by NRC itself. He hunches, releasing his glamour.

His grand shadow looms over Diasomnia, wings stirring gusts as he launches off the stone. The stone crumbles a bit, his claws leaving scratches. Malleus doesn't remember the last time he flew in his true form but the wind cutting around his scales feels nice. A glittering leaf sparks in the distance and he bellows, pawing at the air as if that will help him rise faster.

Malleus catches an updraft, oblivious to Lilia ripping out of Diasomnia's storage room on a broom. The prince darts forward, his eyes hard and pupils slitted. His tail whips to and fro, top layer of scales raised and acting as a stabilizer.

He breaches the enchantment and lands in the clearing. Sadly, the thought to land ON Leafdance didn't cross his mind. The ground trembles beneath him, claws sinking into the soft grass. Malleus lowers his head to Leafdance not as a greeting, but to better see the cretin that dares harm his cherished Child of Man.

"S-Sire!" the chestnut-haired man squeaks, "H-How nice to see you!"

Malleus snorts in response, knocking the fae back. I cannot say the same, Malleus glares at the fae, green embers dancing at the back of his throat. Flecks of green sparkle in his teeth. Some dragon fae can talk in their true form but he cannot. Where is my Child of Man?

"On the subject of the human--" Leafdance begins.

His ferocious rage dims as he inhales your scent. Malleus relaxes a bit and it's like his vision clears, allowing him to see the clusters of trees and tangle of roots you're stuck in. It was a nasty gnarl, for certain. If Elm left, it would surely knot around you and you'd lose a limb (at the very least). Judging by the lone arm sticking out of the tangle, he'd guess you were being twisted and the weight of the branches would crush you.

Not something to be stuck in.

Release them, Malleus' stares at Elm, satisfied with the way the fae shakes while looking at the reflection in his large eye.

"But sire! Please come to your senses! Humans are--"

Malleus isn't sure what came over him in that moment. He was annoyed, yes, but even when in his dragon form he was rational. Composed. Regal. Fully cognizant.

And he's fully aware that he lunges forward, all teeth.

The terrified squawk is muffled in the wet cavern of his mouth, Malleus chomping on the feeble body. He feels the bones roll, flesh squishing against his teeth like pulp. I think I'd rather have Lilia's cooking, Malleus muses as he bobs his head to send the remains down his throat.

The twist of roots explode, no longer connected to their summoner. He's surprised to find you awake and alert. Perhaps Elm meant to keep you conscious and make you suffer. You're dazed and covered in tree bits.

Even in this form he finds you adorably tiny. He can't laugh in this form; it turns into a rumble of a coo. You flinch when the towering creature registers in your vision but something about the brilliant green of that eye, the way those massive paws--claws?--fold patiently in front of you, gives you pause.

"M-Malleus?" you've turned over onto your hands and knees. He rests his maw on his paws, blinking at you.

It is I, Child of Man, Malleus snorts gently. It blows your hair around and the sound he gives is akin to a purr. You sit back on your knees, stunned and staring up at him with thoughtful adoration.

Joy. Relief. Love, perchance?

He can tell it's weird for you to hear his voice but you recover quickly. The idea that his voice sooths you is more than enough for him.

"I didn't realize you could turn into an actual dragon. I just thought being a dragon fae meant you had horns and a tail!" you laughed, cheeks turning red as the embarrassment hit you.

We fae have many secrets, Malleus nudges you with his snout, careful not to shove you. He feels your tiny, warm hands brush his scales. Trace them.

Ooh it's divine! Malleus' tail beats the ground and he's careful to knock the trees away from the two of you. "Thank you for saving me," You kiss the side of his face and wonder if he feels it. His pupil dilates and you laugh as the side of a pink tongue comes out to lick you. "But you squished my groceries. I'll need to make another trip. Want to join me?"

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Lilia drops down from the broom, landing squarely between Malleus' horns. He grabs onto the closest one, feet slipping as Malleus furrows his forehead and starts to move. "Don't swing me, you heathen! I can't believe you FLEW OFF FROM THE SCHOOL!" Lilia shakes the broom, yelping as Malleus looks down and forces him to dangle.

My human was in trouble. What was I to do?

"Tell Crowley?!" Lilia lets go to float in front of Malleus, one hand on his hip. Malleus huffs in response, blowing the fae towards a tree. Had he not teleported, Lilia would be dealing with some serious back pain! He reappeared beside you, leaning on the broom.

I needed a solution, not another problem, Malleus shook his head.

"Why can't Malleus come to the store with me?" you interrupt the staring contest. Apparently Malleus could filter people out when it came to telepathy; he and Lilia were making faces at each other.

"Because he needs to digest what he ate before he reverts to his human form." Lilia sighed. Malleus certainly wasn't the first dragon to eat someone but the boy hadn't been properly educated about taking care of himself after doing so. He'd been taught basic etiquette about showing off his fangs and how to control his wings but eating things in his dragon form hadn't been on anyone's mind since he preferred to be in his human form.

He was a gentle soul, much like his father, and no one really saw him resorting to such things. Queen Maleanor, absolutely! Stories of Queen Maleficia tearing chunks out of annoying suitors certainly made the rounds but no one really saw that in Malleus until now.

"He'll have terrible indigestion if he doesn't." Lilia frowned. "Among other issues."

How long will it take? Malleus cocked his head at Lilia.

"At least an hour. Two to be on the safe side." Lilia sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, I still need groceries." you shrugged, getting off the ground. You'd just have to use whatever bags the store gave you. You're sure the ones under Malleus can't be saved.

Oh Child of Man, for whom my heart sings, might you pay tribute with a bit of ice cream?

"A kiss wasn't enough?" you teased.

"A kiss? Oh, Malleus, you cheeky thing!" Lilia laughs. His young charge may be in dragon form but even dragons can be embarrassed. It's mostly awkward shuffling, dismissive wing flaps, and avoidant eyes, but it's still hilarious.

I would like both, thank you, Malleus' tail starts to wag again. It wags harder when he takes Lilia by surprise and blows him through a cluster of trees like a dandelion seed.

"I'll see what I can do," you pat the side of his face before walking over to help Lilia up and head back to the store.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Can you write something where Rafe falls for a girl in a committed relationship but the guy she’s with (who is a kook) just isn’t nice to her? Lots of angst plsssss

Please, please, please || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: thank u for the request 💗

Warnings: smoking, reader having alochol problems, swearing, reader x toxic!bf

Word count: 1,168

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

“And please, please, please, don’t bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice. Heartbreak is one thing, my ego’s another, I beg you, don’t embarrass me motherfucker.”

“Trouble in paradise, three o’clock,” Topper mutters, letting out a low whistle as he leans against the porch railing. Rafe turns his head to see the source of the commotion. “Stop being so selfish!” Jacques, your boyfriend, shouts as he storms out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

“I don’t want to do it,” you retort, spinning around to face him on the other side of the vehicle, your eyes blazing with defiance. “How many fucking favors have I done for you? And yet you can’t even do one for me?” Jacques rages, his voice rising with frustration.

“I don’t care. I’m not doing it, Jacques,” you snap back, your voice cold and resolute as you slam his car door and start to walk away. In a fit of rage, Jacques slams his hand down on the roof of the car, the sound reverberating through the tense air. “Don’t slam my car, you fucking selfish bitch!” he yells, his words dripping with venom. You fight back tears, your vision blurring as you refuse to look back.

“Shit,” Topper mutters under his breath, watching the scene unfold with a mix of concern and disbelief. Rafe’s eyes follow you as you hurry up the stairs and disappear into the house. “I don’t know how she’s still with him when he treats her like absolute shit,” Topper says, shaking his head in dismay.

~

Rafe had his eyes trained on you the entire dinner, even though you were seated at the far end of the table. His gaze was intense, unwavering, and concerned as he watched the tension between you and Jacques escalate.

As the bickering between you and Jacques grew more heated, Rafe’s expression hardened. You pushed your chair back abruptly, the legs scraping loudly against the polished floor, drawing the attention of everyone around the table.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jacques hissed, his hand shooting out to yank your arm down with a grip that made you wince in pain. “Let go of me, Jacques,” you seethed through gritted teeth, your voice low, trying to maintain a composed facade as your parents and a few other guests turned their heads in curiosity and concern.

“Don’t make a scene, okay?” Jacques warned, his voice dripping with irritation and a hint of desperation. “I’m not making a scene, you are!” you snapped back, your voice rising slightly as you yanked your arm free from his grip. With a final glare, you grabbed your purse and stormed out onto the verandah, the screen door slamming shut behind you with a resounding bang.

Rafe’s eyes followed your every movement, his jaw clenched in anger. “Excuse me for a moment,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the murmurs of the other diners. Pushing back his chair, he rose from the table, his movements deliberate and controlled, and followed you outside.

As he stepped onto the verandah, the cool night air hit him, and he saw you standing by the railing, your back to him, shoulders shaking slightly. He approached you cautiously, his footsteps soft on the wooden planks. “You good?” Rafe’s voice was gentle, filled with genuine concern as he reached out to touch your shoulder.

You flinch at his touch, turning your head slightly to the side. Quickly, you raise the back of your hand to wipe the spilt alcohol from the corner of your lips. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you stutter, hastily shoving the flask back into your purse as Rafe watches with a curious gaze.

“You sure? ’Cause you and your boyfriend don’t seem fine,” Rafe remarks, pulling a lighter and a cigarette packet from his pocket. He lights a cigarette with a swift, practiced motion, the flame briefly illuminating his concerned expression.

You stay quiet, the awkward silence stretching as you wonder if he saw the earlier confrontation. “Jacques just has a short temper sometimes, no big deal,” you chuckle awkwardly, your back pressing against the verandah railing. Rafe scoffs, exhaling a cloud of smoke, his eyes fixed on the dark, rippling water below.

“Why are you defending him? He’s a fucking prick, y/n,” Rafe says, his voice tinged with frustration and disbelief. You knew Rafe was right. The truth of his words stung, and for a moment, you felt exposed and vulnerable. Your mind raced, replaying the countless times Jacques’ temper had flared, leaving you feeling small and insignificant.

“I… I don’t know,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s complicated.” Rafe takes a deep drag of his cigarette, then flicks the ash away, his eyes never leaving yours. “It doesn’t have to be. You deserve better than that bastard,” he says, his tone softening. “You don’t have to put up with his shit, y’know that right?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you look down, unable to meet Rafe’s intense gaze. The weight of his words, the truth in them, felt both comforting and overwhelming. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, the cool night air filling your lungs.

“I know,” you whisper, finally lifting your eyes to meet his. “So then, why are you still with him.” He retorts, his face hard as he intensely stares at your face. You look out over the verandah, a small sigh escaping your lips.

“I’ve been with Jacques for so long, it’s hard to remember what life was like before him,” you confess, your voice trembling slightly, “I keep hoping he’ll change, but it never happens.” Rafe lets out a scoff as he shakes his head.

“Wake up y/n, people like Jacques rarely change. They promise they will, but it’s just words. You deserve someone who respects you, who doesn’t hurt you.” You nod slowly, the realization sinking in. “I know. I guess I’ve just been afraid to admit it. Afraid what my parents would say.”

"Who cares what your parents think?" Rafe scoffs, his tone dismissive. You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of their judgments. "They've got plenty to say about my drinking," you admit, shrugging. Rafe studies your side profile, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"They'll get over it. Jacques is a prick anyway," he replies nonchalantly, taking another drag from his cigarette before handing it to you. "Thanks," you mutter, accepting it and taking a long pull, watching the smoke swirl and dance in the air.

"I should probably head back," you say suddenly, passing the cigarette back to him. Rafe nods, stubbing it out. "Yeah, me too," he says, clearing his throat and smoothing down his shirt.

"Thanks, Rafe. For being here for me," you say sincerely, meeting his gaze. "Anytime, y/n. I'm always here for you," he replies with a warm smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. You nod, offering a small smile before heading back inside.

[st7rnioioss]

۶ৎ FARMERS!DAUGHTER!READER x COWBOY!MATT STURNIOLO

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... smut, fluff, reader thinking she might be pregnant, comforting, slight angst?, crying but matt comforts her, raging breeding kink, grinding/dry humping (f), kissing, unprotected sex (don't do this!), p in v, breeding/coming inside, slight overstimulation, masturbation (briefly), matt coming in her underwear (wow that's a lotttt)

you were pacing. walking back and forth in your room, hand to your stomach while you tried to push the sickening feeling of throwing up and fainting away at the same time.

for the past week or so, you’ve felt terrible. it wasn’t like a usual cold, plus, it was searing hot outside. and you didn’t catch the flu either. you’d been eating like normal, not stressed at all, and you hadn’t been anywhere near anything you’d never been close to before… you’ve had crazy morning sickness, sore breasts, and nausea, and you just couldn’t figure out why. until it hit you.

sure, you knew you and matt’s sex life was risky, considering his raging breeding kink and the way you literally let him breed you. but after having protected sex more than a few times, you decided to just get on birth control. it was the easy option, right? and now you’re here, nervously walking around, convinced there’d been a slight slip-up.

it didn’t take long before you were driving to matt’s house with a pregnancy test you hadn’t checked yet, with trembling hands knocking on his door while twirling anxiously with the hem of your skirt. you were completely aware you must look like another person like you had been sick for the past week. you just wanted him to be out somewhere, and then handle all this without anyone knowing.

“hey the- woah. woah, woah, hey, are you a’ight?” he asked when he opened the door, immediately letting his hands wander around your waist when he saw the way your eyes immediately teared up when they met his. he cradled you to his chest, shushing you when you let out a few soft sobs into the soft material of his flannel.

“darlin’, shhh.. hey, what’s got you all worked up, huh?” he questioned with a soft tone to his voice, bringing you inside to his kitchen, and heisting you onto the counter. gently, he tilted your head upwards by your chin, wanting to properly watch you while the other hand rested on your bare thigh. “c’mon, you can tell me, baby..”

you nodded slowly at his gentle words, letting out a long sigh followed by a sniffle. “it’s- um… well, i do- i don’t know how to say it.. it’s complicated.” you whimpered, resting your forehead onto his shoulder when he stepped closer, both his hands running down your sides.

“take your time, alright? i’m not goin’ anywhere..” he mumbled softly, brushing his fingers through your soft hair while pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. you kept your breathing somewhat steady, your mind reeling and heart going a million miles per hour. you didn’t wanna dance around the confession, so you decided to just rip the bandaid.

“matt, i think- i think i might be pregnant,” you whispered, keeping your face buried in his neck while speaking. you could easily feel the way his body tensed a little bit, his fingers stilling in your hair. he had no clue how to react, his mind completely blank when your words sunk in.

“wh- what?” he then said, shocked, but not exactly unhappy. he pulled back from you, looking down at your glossy eyes and pink nose as he cupped your face in his hands.

“i- i’m not sure, but.. i asked the lady at the pharmacy for symptoms and stuff.. i have- have a test. i haven’t checked it yet.” the test was stuffed in your back pocket, fishing it out to show matt, purposely turning it face down so you couldn’t see. your hand was slightly trembling. there were so many questions left unanswered. would he be happy? are you really gonna raise a kid? what wouldn’t your dad say?

he was completely in utter disbelief. yeah, he’d always insist on finishing inside of you, but you were on the pill, so it never crossed his mind you’d end up pregnant. but.. as wicked as it sounds, something inside him flicked on. you, walking around with his seed planted deep inside of you, forever marked you up with a little kiddo? gosh…

“it’s- gonna be okay. yeah? we’ll figure it out, i mean, maybe it’s negative. maybe you’re just a little ill, baby.” he left a fat kiss on your forehead, making you break a tiny smile. “yeah.. yeah, okay, maybe you’re right about that…” a long sigh followed your words, looking down at the test in your hand.

slowly, and carefully, you twisted it around, watching as the stripes slowly came to be visible. you immediately looked up at matt, a perplexed look on your face. would he be disappointed if it was positive? did he actually want the kid, or was it just that stupid kink? his wide eyes met yours, a faint reassuring smile growing on his lips.

the test was negative.

“are you happy?” he asked softly, his voice quiet but fully coherent. with a small nod, you smiled back weakly. “yeah. yeah, i’m happy. it’s fine, we’ve got plenty of time to have kids together…” you batted your eyes at him, smiling wider when he spoke. “yeah. i’m happy if you are,” he pulled you into a tight hug, leaving the test on the counter when you wrapped your arms around his neck to leave a kiss on his cheek.

“we’ll be alright..” his words were muffled, his lips starting to leave kisses down the side of your face while his fingers dug into your waist, lips reaching your neck and collarbone.

he knew it was fucked up, but the image of you knocked up with his kid made his head spin more than he’d like to admit. sure, he was sort of relieved when the test came negative, neither one of you was ready to raise a fucking child. but just the thought? his cum fucked deep inside of you, breeding you, until you had little kiddos running around? he was brick hard.

before any of you knew it, he’d been leaving tiny red marks down your neck, that he was sure would turn a darker purple tomorrow. your lips were parted, eyes fluttered shut in bliss while his teeth nibbled on your soft skin. “fuck, matt..” that little whine ignited the whole thing all over again, back to the start just a few days ago.

“god damnit, i can’t keep my hands off you..” he groaned, wrapping your legs around his waist to let his hands grab your ass while moving you to his couch, giving it a soft squeeze before slipping you carefully when you laid there, sprawled out on the couch. “i need you, baby…” your pretty voice sounded, looking up at him with a pleading look, a small pout plastered on your lips. gosh, that look made him want to fuck his cum inside you all over again, even make sure to hide the fucking pills you took, just to make you pregnant for real this time.

“you have no clue what you do to me,” his voice was gruff and rough, gently placing a knee between your legs while leaning down, his hands gripping the armrest for support before leaving a quick, teasing peck to your lips.

it wasn’t long before he was licking at your mouth, lewd noises of exchanging spit filling the room, along with a soft whimper slipping past your wet lips rubbing against matt’s. by now, you’re grinding down on his knee, a relief from the ache between your legs. carefully, you rolled your hips over his knee, leaving a slight wet spot on his jeans from the way you were already soaked through your panties. matt was quick to notice the way you almost pathetically rubbed yourself on his leg, disconnecting his lips from yours in a slow motion.

“shit, you want it that bad? hm?” he whispered into your ear, lips grazing your skin, making shivers run down your spine. he let go of the headrest with one hand, letting it slip under your skirt to feel your wet pussy grind onto his knee. his fingertips were immediately met with the drenched fabric, a smirk tugging on his still glistening lips from the desperate whine you let out.

“please, matt. i need you, so bad…” you pleaded with a sweet voice. he then quickly shifted your bodies, making you straddle his thigh while keeping his hands on your waist to have you on top of him. you yelped in surprise, carefully settling on his jean-clad thigh. “yeah? help yourself, darlin’..” his voice was teasing, almost daring as if to see if you’d actually give in—but he’d make you anyway.

you turned beet red, looking down at the thigh between your leg, resting deliciously against your needy pussy. “umm.. okay..” your voice was quiet, almost shy, when you rested your hands onto his shoulders, starting to tug your skirt off while standing up, before settling back onto his thigh with a nervous look.

matt was ogling at your hips with his jaw slack, watching the way your hips deliberately dragged along his thigh, a needy whimper of pleasure eliciting from your parted lips. you’d never done anything like this, the feeling almost overwhelming as your panties nudged at your clit whine you continued to hump his leg. matt was aching in his pants. he was one-hundred percent he’d never been so hard in his entire life, palming him through his jeans with a groan, the other hand resting on your hips to keep your pace somewhat continuous. he so desperately wanted to pump at his cock while watching you, but somehow the restraint made the whole thing much better.

“fuck! matt, please, just- just fuck me,” you moaned sweetly. but he didn’t give in to your repeated pleading. instead, he continued to watch the needy way you kept grinding down on his thigh, almost desperate to come already by the way you left a dark spot on the fabric below you. your eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows knitting into straight up pleasure while a particularly loud gasp sounded, your jaw going slack.

“come on, baby, you can keep going f’me, hm? soaking my fuckin’ thigh.. good girl,” he left a gentle pat to your cheek, listening your pathetic little whimpers and whines while your head was thrown forward. it was almost humiliating in a way, letting him watch you get yourself off in a desperate manner—but you enjoyed it, so there was nothing stopping you.

you continued to drag your needy clit along his tense muscle, before a sudden loud whimper slipped from your mouth, nails digging into his shoulder when you finished in your panties. he gently patted your cheek, watching your bottom lip get tucked between your lips as you let out needy and high-pitched whimpers. “juuuust like that.. you did so good for me, baby, soaking my fuckin’ thigh just like that?” your legs were trembling around his, cheeks almost sorching when you looked back up at him with a whimper.

not even five minutes had gone by, before you were bent over the armrest of the couch, palms and nails digging uncomfortably into the cushions—but that was the last think you were thinking about right now. what you were thinking about, was the way matt absolutely pounded into you, no signs of slowing down. you were drooling around his cock, the lewd squelching noises being heard besides your highs groans and whimpers.

“jesus- you’d look so fuckin’ good, all round and fucked pregnant by me, wouldn’t you?” he groaned into your ear, continuing to slam his hips into the curve of your ass, leaning back to watch the soft skin recoil back. he wasn’t expecting an answer from you, aware of how your mind was reeling from the shamelessly loud moans falling from your parted lips.

you were completely fucked into bliss, eyes stuck in the back of your head, mouth agape and head thrown forward. your mind didn’t even process what he was grossly whispering, too busy thinking about the way his hard cock was bruising your insides at all the right places.

“matt! s- so.. good..” was all you could muster out, leaving matt to chuckle. “yeah? you look so cute, darlin’. all stupid on my big cock, aren’t you? i bet you’d like for me to stuff you full..” again, he asked rhetorically, continuing his hard thrusts into your sloppy pussy while grabbing a good handful of your hair. “pl-please- i need.. t’cum..” you managed to babble, feeling his hand slide up your back to push you further down, him movements stilling for a moment, before he slammed back into you. your moans only grew in volume and pitch, clawing at the cushions.

“gonna fill you up sooo nicely, sweetheart.. fu- fuck!” he groaned, his thrusts starting to turn sloppy and weak when you clenched around him, almost desperate to feel him pump his cum into you. “please! gon- g’nna cum..!” you whimpered, before he pinched your clit between his fingers while nudging at that sweet spot inside you, making you shriek in pleasure. he was trying his best to hold back, but it got harder when you babbling and slurred your words between moans, the dirty squelching of your pussy only adding to the whole thing.

“matt, shittt.. i’m coming- i’m-“ you yelped, before squeezing around his throbbing cock when he rubbed your clit in circles. your legs trembled beneath you, making it nearly impossible to hold yourself up, but you managed to stay upright. “christ.. gonna fuck my cum so deep into ya… make you pregnant on purpose this time, yeah -” he groaned, his head thrown back while squeezing his eyes shut, feeling his cock start to leak the substance inside of you from jus the thought.

“- gonna hide those stupid, fuckin’ pills..” you were whining and writhing in overstimulation, your pussy raw and sensitive from his continuous thrusts—but his words only made you want to redo the whole process, let him make you cum over and over again. “matt, s.. stop, i can’t-“ but after all, the sensitivity and overstimulation got to you, making it hard to allow him to keep going.

your desperation and fucked out whimpers of a mix pain and pleasure only egged him further, gripping your hair tighter. “fuuuuck, princess. gonna stuff you full..” those were his last words, before his throbbing cock spilled it’s sticky liquid inside of you, finishing with one last thrust. you were both a moaning mess, his hand slowly slipping out of your hair, before pulling out of you. for a moment or two, he watched your glistening pussy leaking with his cum whenever you clenched around nothing. gosh, he was almost hard again from just the sight.

“jesus fuckin’ christ..” you panted, your chest heaving when you attempted to catch your breath. you then felt his hands reach for your panties, and the same time as the white fluid trickled down your inner thigh. “wha- what are you doing?” you looked back at him, seeing the way he starts to fist his sensitive cock.

“jus’- just wait..” he’s stroking his already spent cock, red and leaking from his previous release. you watched him in awe, your eyes flickering from the way he ran his thumb over his tip, to his face curling into one of pleasure,

“oh- oh my fuck..” he whimpered, quickly milking himself completely dry, by squirting the white remains into your panties. you were watching intently, your face turning more red by the second. he was so spent, finally letting go of his dick to focus on your leaking pussy. gently, he ran two fingers over your folds, eliciting a squeal from you. he then continued to push a mix of yours and his cum back into your puffy walls, making you moan out in pleasure before he stopped.

agonizingly slowly, he tugged your now completely ruined panties back up your legs, before letting them sit perfectly like they normally would. “shhh… feels good? doesn’t it?” he leaned down to press a kiss to your upper back, two fingers against pressing up against your pussy, this time pantie-clad. the icky feeling of his cum smearing over your pussy made you wince, a quiet gasp leaving your lips while he managed to pull his boxers back up.

“yeah.. i like it matt,” you got to stand back up, turning to him before you met his lips in a gentle kiss, his hands gripping at your waist. “mhm, gotta get you home to your daddy now, don’t ya think?” he mumbled against your lips, his tongue darting out to swipe across your bottom lip.

all you could do was nod dumbly, mind still fogging up from the uncomfortable, but yet delicious feeling between your legs, getting lost in the kiss.

more farmers!daughter!reader here!

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[girlinterupptedsblog]

pussy slapping! reader is in a mood during sex & rafe gets fed up!

Push Me, Pull You

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female Reader

Warnings: Filthy smut, explicit language, rough sex, pussy slapping/spanking, overstimulation, mild degradation, choking (light), dominance/submission dynamics, possessive!Rafe, slight dom!reader tease, Rafe losing control, creampie, manhandling, semi-public tension, reader being bratty/needy, choking (consensual), unprotected sex, toxic love vibes, aftercare.

You’d been a brat all night.

Flirting with other guys at the party — not blatantly, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for Rafe. Enough for his jaw to clench tight as steel, for his drink to sit untouched in his hand, eyes locked on you across the room as you gave some Kook guy the kind of laugh Rafe swore was only his to pull out of you.

It wasn’t even just that. The dress. That tiny, black, skin-hugging excuse of fabric that barely reached the tops of your thighs. And you knew exactly what you were doing when you didn’t wear panties. Rafe had figured that out quick when his hand slipped up the back of your thigh during the ride to the party.

“Don’t start,” you’d whispered with a devilish smirk as you pushed his hand away, “You can’t handle me tonight.”

You thought you had control. Thought you were teasing, playing him like a game, like he wouldn’t snap.

Now you’re face-down in the bed, wrists pinned in one of his hands, your hips yanked high, knees trembling as he slaps your pussy for the fifth time in a row — harder than before. Your breath chokes on a cry, the sting blooming hot between your thighs, slick dripping down your inner thighs.

“Too much?” Rafe growls low behind you, breath ragged. “Nah, baby. You wanted too much. So that’s what you’re getting.”

You don’t even recognize your own moans anymore. They’re cracked, desperate, nothing but pathetic whimpers that fuel Rafe’s rage-driven lust. He’s fed the fuck up.

“You couldn’t keep your fuckin’ mouth shut tonight, could you?” Smack — another hard slap against your swollen, soaked pussy. Your legs try to close, but he’s got a bruising grip on your hips, dragging you back into position. “Couldn’t just be a good girl for me?”

“R-Rafe—!” you choke out, voice hoarse.

“What?” he snaps, wrapping your hair around his fist, yanking your head back until your cheek’s pressed to the mattress. His mouth is right at your ear now, voice laced with venom and desire. “Say it. You liked teasing me. You wanted this.”

“I-I didn’t mean to—!”

Smack. The slap stings like fire.

“You meant to. Every fuckin’ second of it,” Rafe growls. “You think I didn’t see you? Laughin’ at that guy’s jokes, prancing around like a fuckin’ slut—”

His hand lands on your clit, fingers circling it mercilessly. Your back arches, pleasure burning through the pain, making your knees buckle. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps circling, slapping, rubbing you raw. You’re crying now. Not from sadness — from overstimulation, from the ache building in your gut, from knowing you pushed him there.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he mutters darkly, almost in disbelief. “You like this. Gettin’ punished like the fuckin’ needy slut you are.”

You whimper, nodding, brain fried.

His fingers slam into you without warning — two, thick and unforgiving — pumping fast, curling up until you’re clawing at the sheets, sobbing his name.

“You wanted to act like you’re in charge,” he mutters, biting at your shoulder as he drives his fingers in deeper. “Well, who’s in charge now, baby?”

“You! Fuck—you are!”

“That’s right,” he snarls, pulling his fingers out and shoving his cock inside you in one brutal thrust. “You’re mine. And I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you learn it.”

His thrusts are punishing, hips snapping into you like he’s trying to fuck the attitude right out of your spine. The bed slams against the wall, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing through the room, but he doesn’t care. He’s past the point of caring.

“Rafe, Rafe, fuck—too much—!” you cry, hands clawing at the bedframe now.

“Too much?” he echoes, mock sympathy in his tone. His hand snakes around your neck, tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. “You wanted too much. Now take it.”

He’s ruthless, driving into you over and over, the head of his cock slamming against your cervix. You’re barely holding on, body shaking as he holds your neck, other hand gripping your hip like he owns it.

Then he slaps your pussy again while buried deep inside. Your scream is strangled by his grip on your throat, and your orgasm hits like a bomb. You convulse around him, sobbing through it, but he doesn’t slow down. Not even close.

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ cum all over me. Let everyone know who fuckin’ owns this pussy.”

You collapse, legs giving out, but Rafe doesn’t stop. He flips you over, slamming back in, his weight pinning you down as he fucks you raw. His mouth crashes into yours, biting your lip, tongue ruthless.

“Beg for it,” he growls against your lips. “Beg for me to fill you up.”

“Please—please, Rafe—want it, need it, fill me—”

His groan is animalistic, hips jerking as he slams in one final time, cock pulsing as he fills you up with every drop. You’re clinging to him, whimpering, mind blank from the filth, from the intensity, from him.

Rafe finally collapses on top of you, panting into your neck. His voice is low, rough, but there’s a flicker of that possessive softness under it now.

“You ever pull that shit again,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “I won’t stop next time. I’ll ruin you.”

[softaestluv]

prev | blurb directly inspired by this ask to add context! | cw: oral sex, little bit of spiteful, enemy, cocky vibe

The roles are reversed this time, your grip seized tightly around Kyle’s wrist, dragging him along behind you as anger unravels out of your control.

You don’t need to glance back to know the shit-eating smirk he wears on his face. You can tell by the way he takes long strides behind you, not even struggling to match your pace as if your steps are too short and insignificant for him to care.

“Where ya takin’ me?” He asks edges of his words curled tauntingly, like the two of you are playing some sort of game, “Gyms the other way.”

You know that, obviously.

He knows that, obviously.

His stupid voice only makes you more irritated, each syllable dragging a dagger against your skin. You shove him hastily into the first dark closet you find, slamming him against the wall with full force, hope it fucking hurt. You’re determined at this point, fists clenched, and teeth bared, threatening your prey with fangs and claws.

“My turn to make you cum now, okay?”

It doesn’t even take him by surprise, the fucker just chuckles, pleased. “Well, let’s have at it.”

You unbuckle his cargos with a little more vigor than intended, but he’s perched himself against the wall, crossing his arms behind his head like he’s getting comfortable, waiting for you to drop to your knees and suck him off.

It drives you mad, makes you furious, rage pulsing behind your eyelids, so you toss your phone on a spare shelf, pulling up a timer.

He scoffs in disbelief. “Really, you’re gon’ time it?”

You yank his pants to his thighs, hovering your fingers over the band of his boxers, “You made me count, so now we see how long you can last.”

“Good luck with that.” He mutters, indignantly, as if his little game was suddenly ruined.

You fall to your knees unceremoniously, don’t plan to be pretty about the whole ordeal because he doesn’t deserve that. You tuck your fingers confidently into his underwear, tugging them low in one swift motion. An action that makes Kyle inhale a sharp breath through his teeth unexpectedly.

When his cock springs free it’s your turn to snicker, “Doesn’t look like it’ll be too difficult.”

He stands tall, eager, longer than you had imagined him to be. It makes you a little apprehensive, fidgeting on your knees at the sight because you’re not entirely sure you can fit all of that in your mouth, but you mask it the best you can. You’d rather die than let Kyle Garrick know he’s got a big dick.

You don’t necessarily have room to be nervous when Kyle is clearly painfully aroused, darkened tip smeared with a small bead of precum. Your apprehension outweighs his arousal, his smug attitude means absolutely nothing when his cock is leaking and desperate and you haven’t even touched it yet, entirely too excited with your sharp words and combative attitude.

Kyle doesn’t respond to your smart remark, doesn’t have the strength to when your palm engulfs his shaft. You don’t intend to take your time, be gentle in any way because you’re trying to prove a point, so as soon as you start the timer your mouth is on him.

You keep your eyes on his, want to watch the exact moment his smug face crumbles, the minute his ego diminishes into weakness and succumbs.

One broad swipe of your tongue, base to fattened tip, is all it takes.

His eyes flutter for a split second, lips parting to take a deep breath before he conceals it, eyes hardening once again like he wasn’t affected, but you know him better than that, can read him better than he likes to think.

That’s fine, as soon as you wrap your lips around his head his brows crease, jaw tensing, grinding his molars together when you slide lower and lower, taking him inch by inch. You barely get halfway before he’s in your throat, the sensation making you gag reflexively around him.

“Tha’ all you can take?” He snides, tilting his head, “Come on, doll. You can do better than tha’.”

You glare up at him, slightly regretting your situation. You can’t really snarl back when you’ve got a mouth full of his cock. You wish you could tell him to watch his own mouth, you’re not afraid to use your teeth on his precious cock, put him in his place with a few nips. So, you do the next best thing, swallow him down to the hilt, nose pressed to his curly pubes, and suck.

It makes him kilt over, hands flying instinctively to cup your jaw. He curses under his breath, tries to be quiet about it, but you hear it, deep and drawn out.

You build a rhythm, bobbing your head over his length again and again, swirling your tongue around his shaft with each motion. His swollen head kisses the back of your throat with each bob, it stings, each prod burning an uncomfortable stretch that makes tears well in your lashes.

You try your best not to choke or cough around his thick cock. You don’t want to inflate his ego any more than it is, don’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching fat tears roll down your cheeks. Except when you do look up at him, he’s got his lips parted in a strained moan, the whites of his eyes rolling as you make eye contact.

“Shit, don’t look at me like tha’.” He groans, voice ragged and pinched like it does something to him to see you making a mess of yourself, saliva dripping down your chin.

So, you do the complete opposite, gazing with hooded lids as you slap his cock against the smooth of your tongue. His head knocks against the wall at that, fingers digging shallow indents into your jaw as his balls tighten.

That’s all the sign you need to suction the head into your mouth, fisting his shaft with calculated strokes in tandem. He tries to push you off in response, weakly shoving your head away, but your willpower is a little stronger than his at the moment.

A string of incoherent words slips from his lips, hips involuntarily thrusting into the wet confines of your mouth, seeking out the mind-numbing sensation. He barely gives you any warning before he’s sinking to the hilt in one go, balls smacked against your chin as he lets out a guttural groan.

You swallow it all, licking the salty taste clean from his head as he jerks in overstimulation until he slips from your lips with a wet pop.

“Didn’t even last 5 minutes Garrick?” You mock.

The sight above you makes you chuckle, pride beating your chest because he’s completely spent, eyes lidded and glazed over like his soul hasn’t quite returned to his body.

The timer reads: 3 minutes and 52 seconds.

[elliesbabygirl]

Synopsis: In a far away modern au...where ellie's a piece of shit to y/n. The girl doesn't know what she wants and she keeps making mistakes on how to figure it out while dragging y/n down.

warnings: Ellie being a piece of shit, emotional & physical cheating, swearing, arguing, mentions of Cat, + Dina being your best friend plus activating mama bear mode on Ellie and cat. Angst with little to no comfort because we like trying new things here. S/O to an anon for the idea at the end.

Part one <- part two

“Dina!”

Ellie’s voice echoed as she flew down the corridor towards the elevators, her chest heaving.

She saw the familiar dark hair disappearing around the corner — the bag slung over Dina’s shoulder, the flash of her boot just before the elevator doors started to close.

“Dina, wait—!”

Dina turned her head just enough to shout back. Her voice hard, controlled.

“I’m not letting you hurt her more, Ellie!”

She smacked the elevator button like it owed her money, and the doors closed before Ellie could reach them.

Ellie slammed a hand on the metal. “Fuck!”

The next elevator was too slow.

+

Ellie took them three at a time.

The cold concrete steps blurred beneath her boots as she sprinted down, hand gripping the rail, body barely keeping up with her speed.

Her lungs burned, and her chest ached, but she didn’t stop.

You were right there.

She had to reach you, even if it was too late. Even if you never wanted to see her again.

She just—she couldn’t let it end like this. Not with you thinking Ellie didn’t love you, that she’d chosen Cat, out of all people.

She hit the bottom landing hard, shoving the door open and bursting into the freezing night air.

Eyes scanning.

There—

Dina’s car, halfway down the lot, with the engine on.

“WAIT!” Ellie screamed, legs pumping, sprinting across the pavement like her life depended on it.

Because it fucking did.

Her palms slammed onto the back bumper of Dina’s car — the cold metal biting into her skin as the car jolted slightly from the impact.

you flinched.

Your head whipped around, eyes wide, body tensing — and then they locked on Ellie through the back windshield.

Winded, pale, and there.

Your expression soured, almost instantly.

No words — just that sharp, heartbreaking shift in your face, like If seeing Ellie hurt, like you’d almost been okay for one second and now everything was bleeding again.

The tears welled so fast that it was like your body had just been waiting to cry.

Dina slammed the car into park, half out of the parking spot. She threw open her door and got out fast, slamming it shut behind her.

“What the fuck, Ellie!?” she shouted. “Get away from my car!”

Ellie stumbled towards the window on your side, her breathing a mess — ragged, and shallow, like every step had costed her something.

She raised her hand to the window, not even knocking. Just pressing her palm flat to the glass. Her lips barely working around the words.

“Please—” gasp. “Just—” gasp. “Just let me—” gasp. “Explain—”

You didn’t move.

Didn’t roll the window down.

Your arms were locked across your chest, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands like a shield.

Your eyes were glassy again, swimming with tears, your face tense with rage and disbelief and exhaustion.

Ellie didn’t wait.

She didn’t need permission — Ellie couldn’t afford to wait.

“I didn’t—” she choked, voice coming in sharp fragments, “I didn’t plan it. I—I texted her after you left. I was—fuck, I was spiraling, and I didn’t know what to do—”

Dina stepped in, grabbing Ellie by the shoulder. “You don’t get to do this,” she hissed. “You chose Cat. You don’t get to chase after her like this now. Back off, Ellie.”

But Ellie didn’t even look at Dina.

She was locked in on you, only you.

“She doesn't matter,” Ellie breathed. “Not like you. Not ever. I was just—I was fucking scared, okay? I didn’t know how to fix it and I thought maybe—maybe if I just numbed it for a second—”

You finally spoke, your voice cracking even through the glass.

“You thought screwing her would help you feel less like the bad guy?”

Ellie shut her eyes.

She slid to her knees beside the car, one hand still on the window. Hair stuck to her face. Shoulders heaving.

“I fucked up,” she rasped. “I fucked up so bad.”

Dina reached for the door handle.

“Don’t—” Ellie said quickly, eyes flicking to her. “Don’t take her yet. Please. Just give me—please—two minutes. Just two.”

+

You just stared at her through the glass, jaw trembling, arms wrapped around yourself so tight it looked like you were holding your own ribs in place.

Ellie was still kneeling there, one hand braced on the cold glass, her chest heaving, hair a mess.

Her voice cracked every time she tried to push it out.

“I don't want her,” she said, desperate. “Not like that. Not since we broke up, not since I met you.”

Your face didn’t change. If anything, you looked even more shattered by her trying to say that now.

“I panicked when you left,” Ellie gasped. “I didn’t know what to do—I’ve never seen you that angry, and when the door closed it just—fuck, I spiraled, I thought maybe I’d already lost you, and I just needed something to… stop it.”

Ellie wiped at her face with her sleeve, her eyes glassy. “It wasn’t about her. It never was. I swear to god I never meant to—”

“You invited her,” you said through the glass, voice raw and thin and poisoned with disbelief.

Ellie shut her eyes.

You shook your head slowly, lips trembling. “You texted her, and then you let cat touch you like that. You were sitring there letting her take off your hoodie while I was crying in Dina’s car.”

“I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t know she was gonna—”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Ellie” you snapped, the tears falling now, hot and steady.

Ellie’s mouth opened, and then closed.

No words.

Behind her, Dina crossed her arms.

“Alright,” she said. “That’s enough.”

Ellie didn’t move.

And Dina stepped forward again, eyes hard, and voice cold. “Back the fuck off, Ellie.”

“She—she deserves to hear it—”

“She did hear it,” Dina snapped. “And what y/n heard was a weak excuse dressed up like an apology.”

Ellie looked stricken, helpless.

Dina didn’t let up, though.

“You should’ve stopped Cat at the door. You should’ve deleted the draft before you hit send. You don’t get to spiral and then expect y/n to clean it up after you.”

Ellie dropped her head, her forehead pressed to the glass.

“She loved you,” Dina said, quieter now. “She fought for you even when she shouldn’t have had to. And the second she stopped? You crumbled, you didn’t even hesitate.”

Ellie didn’t lift her head.

Dina moved to the driver’s side, and opened the door.

“Go back to your dorm,” she said, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Finish playing house with Catherine.”

Then a beat.

“And for what it’s worth?” Dina added, sliding into her seat. “I really thought you were better than this.”

Dina's door shut and the engine came on.

Ellie stayed frozen as Dina's car rolled away, the red taillights shrinking down the street.

Ellie didn’t chase this time.

Didn’t move, just stood there, alone in the cold, at the edge of the dorm building.

With nothing left to run after.

+

Three months had melted away like candle wax in heat — slow, sweet, and irreversible.

The bed was a wreck, all twisted sheets and sticky warmth, the kind that clung to bare skin and spoke without a word.

The lamp hadn’t been touched, the only glow in the dark came from your phone screen buzzing again and again on the nightstand, a pulse of pale blue light slicing through the shadows.

Ellie.

Her name flickered across it for the third time this week — desperate, persistent, and haunting.

You didn’t move, couldn't.

Your breath still hadn’t evened out, still shivering faintly in your throat.

Abby moved instead.

She shifted against you, her thigh sliding up between yours with casual, possessive friction, her skin damp against yours, hair wild, and breath still coming in slow, confident exhales against the back of your neck.

One arm looped tighter around your waist as she leaned over and grabbed the phone with the other, her movement unhurried, her fingers firm.

The light glinted off her knuckles as she brought the screen closer to her face — a smirk already curling at the edge of her lips.

Her voice came low and gritty, saturated with satisfaction. “Yeah?”

Abby put it on speaker before the voice could plead for privacy. Ellie’s words trembled into the room, raw and cracked.

“I just… I just need to say I’m sorry. I know it’s late, I know I’ve said it a billion times, but I miss y—”

Abby let out a short, sharp breath through her nose — half-laugh, half-dismissal. “Yeah, she’s a little busy right now.”

You shivered, not from the words.

But from Abby's hand sliding across your pelvis, down, lazy and certain, her fingers grazing where you were still slick, still tender, still open from what she’d already done.

She wanted to remind you that you were here, that she was still inside this moment, inside you.

“Mmmf…” The moan slipped out, involuntary, and heat rising again, fast.

Ellie heard it.

Abby grinned, not looking at the phone anymore. Her mouth was on your shoulder now, tongue tracing the curve of your bone, her fingers slipped lower.

“She moved on,” Abby said, voice hard and flat but tinged with something richer — triumph, possession, hunger. “You should try it sometime.”

She ended the call without another word, not even a goodbye and tossed your phone back to the nightstand where it landed with a soft thud, vibrating once more before going still.

TAGLIST FOR PART TWO: @youfoundheavenn @bready101 @nattakasuperlesbian @sewithinsouls @elliefckngw @gianni7867 @elliewilliamsluvrr @sturniluvr @iadorefineshyt @abigaillovestoread @isaah-s @hsangel64 @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @elliewilliamscutofffingers @snooopyinspace @fatbootymuncher @lvlymicha @sultryvixen @robinphobia @vahnilla @chwekriz00 @lovelaymedown @the-sick-habit @dollyfawn22

Author's note: some of y'all need to have your tags turned on😭but regardless, I hope part two was okay and lived up to the first part.... cause it's kinda crazy how y'all liked the first part.!! But thank you so much. I have a new series coming out soon so...

[brunchable]

Love Child | Steve Rogers × f!Reader.

Words: 7.1K Themes: ANGST, betrayal of trust, break-up. Twigger Warning: Panic attack. Summary: You find out that Steve has a child, and the problem was, you weren't the mother. A/N: Read it if you want to hurt. I woke up and chose emotional damage LMAO. Today I am brave enough to post a Steve angst with no happy ending, I have been stalling but eh. A/N: Also I need to organize who wants to get tagged for ALL of my Steve Rogers fic. I am in a mess here, so if I am not tagging you, that's the reason.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @haruvalentine4321

You stared at the letter in your hands, the words blurring as tears welled in your eyes. Your chest tightened, the walls of the room closing in on you. The world tilted and spun, a sharp pain cutting through your heart as if it had been pierced by a dagger you never saw coming.

The paper crumpled in your hand as the weight of the revelation crushed you. Steve has a child. And the mother was Sharon.

A ragged breath escaped you, your body trembling as you stumbled back, gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself upright. How long? The question echoed in your mind, over and over again.

How long had Steve kept this from you? How long had he looked you in the eyes, told you he loved you, and hidden this secret?

The door creaked open, and you turned, your heart already in tatters, your hands gripping the countertop so hard your knuckles turned white. Steve walked in, his expression soft, unaware of the storm raging within you.

He froze when he saw your face—your red-rimmed eyes, your trembling body. His gaze dropped to the letter in your hand, and in an instant, you saw the recognition hit him hard.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice careful, cautious, like he knew he was stepping into dangerous territory.

“You—” Your voice cracked, but you forced the words out, the pain burning through your chest. “You have a child?”

Steve’s face paled. He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“No. You don’t get to talk right now,” you spat, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury. “How long were you planning to hide this from me, Steve?”

“Y/N, it’s not what you think—”

You laughed, the sound bitter. “Not what I think? Steve, you have a child with Sharon. A child. And you didn’t think I had the right to know?”

His jaw tightened, guilt flickering across his face, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing he could say now would ever be enough.

“How long?” you demanded, your voice rising. “How long have you known?”

He hesitated, and that hesitation was like another stab to your already bleeding heart.

“Three years,” he whispered, barely able to meet your eyes.

You froze. “Three years?”

It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, the air knocked from your lungs. You took a step back, trying to keep yourself from falling apart completely.

“Three years, Steve?” you repeated, your voice soft but trembling with every word. “You’ve known for three years, and you didn’t tell me? You didn’t think that I should know that the man I love has a child?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Steve started, stepping forward, but you recoiled from him, shaking your head.

“That’s your excuse?” you said, incredulous. “You didn’t know how to tell me? So you just decided not to? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think this would never come up?”

Steve’s face twisted in pain, but you couldn’t stop. The dam had broken, and all the hurt, the betrayal, poured out of you like a flood.

“Do you have any idea what that feels like? To find out like this?” You threw the crumpled letter at his chest, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over. “I’ve stood by you through everything. I’ve defended you when everyone else doubted you. I’ve fought for us. I trusted you with everything—and you kept this from me?”

“Y/N, please,” Steve pleaded, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t want to hurt me?” you repeated, your voice trembling with disbelief. “Well, guess what, Steve? You did. You hurt me more than anyone ever has. You kept this secret from me, and now I don’t even know who you are.”

He took another step closer, desperation etched into every line of his face. “I didn’t love Sharon. It wasn’t—”

“I don’t care about Sharon!” you shouted with a bite, cutting him off. “I care about the fact that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. I care about the fact that you’ve looked me in the eyes, slept beside me, told me you loved me—all while hiding this.”

Steve’s lips parted, but no words came out. And in that silence, something inside you shattered.

“I loved you, Steve,” you whispered, the tears flowing freely now, no longer caring to hold them back. “I loved you more than anything. But now? Now all I feel is… hollow.”

He flinched as if the word struck him deeply, but it didn’t stop you. 

“You had a choice, Steve. You could have trusted me. You could have told me the truth. But instead, you chose to keep me in the dark. You chose to lie. And now?” Your voice broke again, the weight of your words settling in the air between you. “Now, I don’t even know if I can ever forgive you for that—”

“Oh my God! Will you let me explain?!” Steve exploded, his voice shaking the walls. He stepped forward, fists clenched, his entire body vibrating with anger. “You keep going on and on, like I wanted this to happen! You think I wanted to hide this from you? You don’t even know what it was like!”

Your head snapped back, and your voice matched his fury. “I don’t know what it was like? I’m the one who’s been fooled! For three years! You kept this massive secret from me, and now I’m the one who doesn’t understand?”

“Yeah, you don’t!” he shot back, stepping closer, the space between you charged, toxic. “You have no idea what it was like carrying that around. Every day, wondering if telling you would blow everything apart!”

“Well, guess what?” you yelled, voice rising as your hands trembled at your sides. “You didn’t have to wonder, Steve. Because it’s blown apart now!”

Steve’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. “I didn’t lie, Y/N. I didn’t know about the kid until after we were already together!”

“You lied by not telling me when you found out!” you screamed, your chest heaving with the effort. “You made me believe there were no secrets between us, and all this time, you’ve been hiding something so huge! You have a child! A whole other life with Sharon!”

“It’s not a life!” Steve roared, his voice breaking under the weight of his anger. “It was a mistake! Something I never wanted in the first place!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide it? Were you too much of a coward to be honest with me?” Your words hit like daggers, your chest burning from the emotional wreckage piling up between you.

Steve’s face twisted into something hard, something darker. “Coward? Coward? You want to talk about being a coward? How about the time you lied to me?”

Your breath hitched, your eyes narrowing in confusion and shock. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he spat, his voice venomous. “You remember that night you said you were out with Nat, but really, you were meeting with Bucky behind my back. You lied to me about that. Don’t act like you’re innocent here.”

“That’s not the same thing!” you snapped, shaking your head as you stepped closer, your heart hammering in your chest. “I didn’t lie about having a whole ass child, Steve! There’s a pretty huge difference!”

Steve let out a bitter, angry laugh, running his hands through his hair. “No, it’s not the same, but you still lied. You lied because you didn’t want to deal with my reaction, just like I didn’t want to deal with this.”

“I lied about a mission! A mission. Not something that would change everything between us. Don’t you dare try to make this about me when you’re the one who’s been hiding a child for years!”

“You’re so self-righteous,” Steve snapped, his voice full of heat, his chest rising and falling with the force of his anger. “You act like you’re perfect, like you’ve never made a mistake. You’re so focused on my screw-ups, but you don’t even see your own.”

Your mouth dropped open, the words barely able to form as you stared at him in disbelief. “You’re trying to make this my fault? You’re actually blaming me for this?”

Steve’s eyes blazed as he stepped forward, his voice low, seething. “I’m saying you act like you’re the only one who’s hurt here. Like you’re the only one who has a right to be angry. But guess what, Y/N? I’m angry too. I’m angry that I had to carry this weight alone because I didn’t know how to tell you without you tearing me apart for it.”

“You chose that!” you shot back, your voice shaking with fury. “You chose to keep this from me, Steve. Don’t try to make it seem like I forced your hand. You had every chance to be honest, and you didn’t. That’s on you.”

“Of course, it’s on me!” Steve shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “But you act like I’m the only one who’s ever messed up, like your lies don’t count. Like your secrets are somehow better.”

You felt your chest tighten, the tears of rage building again behind your eyes. “You have no right to stand there and compare this to anything I’ve done. You hid a child from me, Steve. Do you even get how massive that is? You took away my right to know.”

“I know!” he yelled, his voice breaking. “I know I fucked up. I know I should’ve told you, but I was scared, okay? I was scared of what it would do to us.”

“And now look at us,” you whispered, the words filled with raw pain. “It’s worse. It’s so much worse because you waited. Because you lied.”

Steve took a deep breath, his voice softening but still tinged with anger. “I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“But you did,” you said, your voice breaking. “You hurt me more than you can imagine. And the worst part is, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at you the same way again.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as the weight of your words settled between you. “Y/N…”

You shook your head, stepping back, the tears spilling over now, hot and fast. “You broke us, Steve.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice small, broken. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough to fix this.

“I hope it was worth it,” you spat, turning your back on Steve as you stormed toward the stairs. The anger radiated off you, the floor trembling beneath your footsteps as you ascended.

“Y/N—where are you going? What are you doing?” Steve called after you, his voice still thick with frustration and desperation. You didn’t turn back, didn’t even acknowledge him as your heart pounded violently in your chest.

Your feet carried you faster, the distance between you and Steve becoming a chasm you knew neither of you could cross again. You reached the bedroom, flinging the closet doors open with a sharp tug. Your hands shook as you grabbed your suitcase, throwing it onto the bed with a loud thud.

“Y/N, stop!” Steve’s voice was closer now, frantic as he followed you up the stairs, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor. “What are you doing?”

But you kept your back to him, ignoring the pleading edge to his voice as you tore clothes from hangers, shoving them into the suitcase with reckless abandon.

“Y/N—talk to me!” Steve’s voice was sharp, almost panicked now, but you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop.

The closet was a blur of motion as you threw more and more into your bag, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you fought to keep from sobbing. You had to focus, had to keep moving, because if you stopped—if you stopped for even one second—you knew you’d break completely.

“Where are you going?” Steve demanded, his voice breaking as he grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him. “What are you doing, Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up to his, blazing with fury. You ripped your arm out of his grasp, your voice dripping with venom. “I’m leaving, Steve. What does it look like I’m doing?”

He blinked, stunned by your words, his hands falling to his sides. “You’re not… You can’t just—”

“I can,” you cut him off, zipping up the half-packed suitcase with a sharp tug. “And I will.”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths. “You’re just going to walk away? After everything?”

You whirled on him, your eyes flashing. “What else do you want me to do, Steve? Stay? Pretend like everything’s fine? You betrayed me.” 

You shook your head, grabbing another handful of clothes and shoving them into the suitcase. “I can’t do that.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, his voice filled with a desperate edge. “I made a mistake, Y/N! I know I did. But you can’t just throw everything away like this.”

“You threw it away,” you snapped, your voice rising again, your hands trembling as you yanked open the dresser. “The second you decided to lie to me, you threw us away.”

His hand slammed against the dresser, stopping your frantic movements, his voice breaking with emotion. 

“I didn’t want to lose you!”

You froze, your fingers gripping the edge of the drawer, your heart pounding in your ears. 

“Well, congratulations, Steve,” you whispered, your voice raw and ragged. “You lost me anyway.”

You pulled away from him, resuming your packing with a fury, trying to shove everything into the suitcase as quickly as possible. You couldn’t stay here any longer—not with him, not after everything.

“Y/N, please,” Steve’s voice cracked, and for the first time, you heard the fear beneath the anger. “Don’t do this. We can fix this.”

You snapped the suitcase shut, turning to face him one last time, your throat burning as you fought so hard not to break down in front of him. “We can’t fix this, Steve. You broke it. You broke us. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

His face crumpled, the pain in his eyes matching the hollow ache in your chest. “I love you, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat as you turned away from him, grabbing your suitcase and pulling it off the bed. 

“I wish that was enough,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Steve took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if he could pull you back, but you were already gone. Already walking toward the door, the weight of everything crashing down around you.

You didn’t look back as you left, didn’t let yourself see the devastation on his face. Because if you did—if you saw the hurt in his eyes—you might have broken completely.

× × × × 

The rain hammered against the windshield, streaking in endless lines, distorting the world outside as you drove aimlessly through the storm. The wipers struggled to keep up, but it didn’t matter—you could barely see through the blur of tears clouding your vision.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white as your chest heaved with shallow, uneven breaths. The weight of everything was too much—the anger, the betrayal, the unbearable ache in your heart. It felt like your whole world had collapsed in a single moment, and now you were drowning in the wreckage.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

With a sharp jerk, you pulled the car to the side of the road, the tires skidding slightly on the wet pavement. The sound of the blinker clicked furiously in the sudden stillness, an incessant reminder of the chaos swirling inside you.

And then, the dam broke.

A sob ripped from your throat, deep and raw, shaking your entire body as you collapsed forward, your head falling against the steering wheel. The tears came in a rush, uncontrollable and violent, each breath harder to take than the last. You gasped, but no air came—just the suffocating weight of your own grief, crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your chest ached, a sharp, stabbing pain that radiated through your ribs, like something inside you was breaking apart, splintering under the pressure. You tried to breathe, but the sobs came too fast, too strong, wrenching your body with each convulsion.

It felt like your heart was being crushed, squeezed until it couldn’t beat anymore. You pressed a hand to your chest, desperate, coughing between sobs as you tried to force the air back into your lungs. But it wouldn’t come.

You were drowning.

The sound of the blinker ticked steadily in the background, but all you could hear was your own ragged breathing, the gasps for air that never came, the broken cries that tore from your throat.

You couldn’t stop.

The tears burned as they fell, hot and endless, but you didn’t wipe them away. You couldn’t. Your body was shaking, your chest so tight it felt like you were being crushed from the inside. Every sob sent fresh waves of pain through you—pain so deep it felt like your heart was being ripped apart.

You heaved, gasping, your hand clutching your chest as though you could somehow hold yourself together. But you couldn’t. Everything inside you was breaking, crumbling under the weight of the agony that consumed you.

You coughed, your throat raw from the sobs, the pressure in your chest building until it felt like you might burst. You wanted it to stop—needed it to stop—but the pain only deepened, settling into every corner of your body, pressing down harder with every breath you couldn’t take.

You screamed then, the sound tearing through the car, harsh and guttural, a cry that came from somewhere deep inside—the part of you that had been shattered beyond repair. It filled the space, mingling with the sound of the rain and the steady tick of the blinker, a scream of pure, unfiltered anguish.

And still, the tears came.

It felt like hours before the sobs began to slow, before the heaving breaths turned into shallow gasps, your body trembling from the exertion. But the pain remained—a deep, aching wound that throbbed in your chest, a constant reminder that everything you had was gone.

Your hands shook as you wiped your eyes, though the tears wouldn’t stop completely. You leaned back in the seat, staring blankly out at the rain-soaked world, feeling empty. Hollow.

And as the blinker continued to tick, the world outside was nothing but a blur of rain and darkness, you realized you didn’t know how to pick up the pieces of what was left of you.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your phone, the weight of it heavy in your palm, the screen blurred by the tears still streaming down your face. Every part of you ached—your chest tight, your breath shaky, the sobs still threatening to break free. You could barely see through the haze of grief, but you needed someone. Needed someone to pull you out of this spiral before it swallowed you whole.

With a shaking hand, you scrolled through your contacts, and your thumb hovered over her name—Nat. The one person who had always been there, who wouldn’t ask too many questions, who would understand with just a single word.

The ringing felt like it stretched on forever, each second punctuated by the relentless ticking of the blinker, the steady beat of rain against the windshield.

Finally, the call connected.

"Y/N?" Nat’s voice was soft. 

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. A choked sob escaped you instead, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You clutched the phone tighter, your other hand pressing hard against your chest, as though you could hold yourself together long enough to speak.

"Y/N?" Nat’s voice sharpened, filled with worry now. "What’s going on? Are you okay?"

"I—I can’t—" The words came out broken, shattered between sobs. You coughed, gasping for breath, trying to force out the words that felt stuck in your throat. "I can’t… breathe."

"Hey, hey, breathe." Nat’s voice softened, grounding you, pulling you out of the suffocating darkness. "Take a breath. What’s going on?"

You sucked in a breath, but it was jagged, painful. The tears wouldn’t stop, your chest still heaving, but Nat’s voice kept you tethered, kept you from spiraling further.

“It’s Steve,” you whispered, voice barely audible through the sobs. “He—he lied to me, Nat. About… everything.”

Silence on the other end. Nat didn’t press. She didn’t need to. She knew there was more, something deeper, something that had torn you apart from the inside out. And she waited.

“I left,” you managed to choke out, your fingers trembling as you gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. “I just… I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay.”

“Where are you?” Nat asked, her voice calm, steady—a lifeline in the chaos.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, blinking through the blur of tears as you glanced out at the rain-soaked road. You didn’t even know where you had driven to—just away. Away from him, away from the lies, away from everything that had broken you.

“Okay,” Nat’s voice was soothing now, a steady rhythm against the sound of your sobs. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. Just breathe, alright? I’m coming to get you. Just tell me where you are.”

You coughed, the pain in your chest still sharp, still suffocating. You pressed your forehead against the steering wheel, forcing yourself to take a shallow, shaky breath. “I’m… by the old bridge, off the main road.”

“I know where that is,” Nat said, her voice quick, decisive. “Stay there. Don’t move, okay? I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You nodded, though she couldn’t see you, your hands still trembling as you pulled them away from the steering wheel. The exhaustion hit you then, hard and heavy, the adrenaline leaving you drained, hollow.

“Nat?” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know how to… how to deal with this,” you admitted, your chest tightening again as the sobs threatened to resurface. “I don’t know if I can.”

Nat’s voice was soft, but firm. “You can. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

The phone went silent, and for the first time in hours, you let out a breath that didn’t feel like it was tearing you apart.

She was coming.

× × × × 

The rain pounded against the car’s roof, each drop falling harder than the last. It was as if the sky itself had opened up, matching the storm raging inside you. Your hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, your chest still heaving from the sobs that had wracked your body. The air inside the car felt suffocating. The sound of the blinker—tick, tick, tick—was the only steady thing amidst the chaos of your breath and the downpour outside.

You couldn’t stop shaking. 

When Nat’s car finally pulled up beside yours, you didn’t move. You couldn’t. The weight of your grief had pinned you to the seat, your body too exhausted to do anything but tremble. Her car door opened, and within seconds, she was there—ripping your passenger door open and sliding in without hesitation.

“Y/N.” Nat’s voice was soft, firm—grounding.

She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t need to. The look on her face said everything: she knew. She always knew when things were falling apart. Her hand gently rested on your shoulder, the touch comforting in its simplicity.

You tried to speak, but your throat burned, your chest too tight to form words. Another sob broke free instead, and Nat’s hand squeezed your shoulder gently, her presence steady even as your world seemed to collapse around you.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, her voice a soothing anchor. “We’ll get through this.”

But you weren’t okay. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw movement just outside the car—Bucky. He stood there in the rain, his hair dripping wet, eyes shadowed with concern as he watched from a distance. He hadn’t stepped closer, hadn’t spoken, but you could feel the weight of his gaze. Like he wanted to be there for you, but wasn’t sure if he should.

The door on Nat’s side clicked as she spoke again, her voice a little more urgent now. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Slowly, with her guidance, you unclenched your grip from the steering wheel and wiped at your face with shaking hands. Your body was so worn out that you could hardly feel the motion of it as you finally opened the door and stepped out into the rain. Nat was at your side instantly, holding an umbrella over you as she guided you toward her car.

Bucky was there, too, close but not too close, watching every step you took as if he was waiting—waiting for something to fall apart that he could help catch.

Nat opened the back door and gently helped you inside, her presence so calm, so steady, it nearly broke you all over again. “You’re safe now,” she murmured, tucking you in as if you were something fragile. “Just breathe, Y/N.”

You nodded, though your chest still felt like it was caving in. And then, in the middle of the downpour, you heard Bucky’s voice—low, hesitant—from behind Nat.

“I’ll drive her car back to the compound.”

Nat glanced over at him, “Yeah. Thanks.”

You could hear the shuffle of Bucky’s footsteps through the rain as he climbed into your car, the engine rumbling to life. And in that moment, you felt a strange tug of comfort—knowing he was there, that he was watching out for you, even from afar.

Nat slid into the driver’s seat beside you, her hand resting lightly on the gear shift. She turned her head just slightly, her gaze soft. “You’re not alone, Y/N.”

But as she pulled away from the curb, the rain still lashing against the windows, you couldn’t help but feel like part of you had been left behind in the storm—shattered and scattered, waiting to be pieced back together.

And when you glanced out the window, you saw Bucky’s figure in the distance, his eyes never leaving you as you disappeared into the rain.

× × × ×

Nat’s room was a cocoon of warmth compared to the cold, stormy world outside. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the space, casting long shadows that felt strangely comforting. You sat on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped around yourself, the weight of everything still heavy on your shoulders. Nat was beside you, her hand resting gently on your knee, her presence steady, unwavering.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern, “you’re going to get through this. I know it feels like everything’s falling apart right now, but you’re stronger than you think.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding even though you didn’t entirely believe her. The weight in your chest made it hard to breathe, and it felt like no matter how many words of comfort she offered, the broken pieces of your heart would never fully heal. But Nat was there, and her words were like a balm, even if they couldn’t fully take the pain away.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… I want to get away. Far away.”

Nat’s hand tightened slightly on your knee, her expression understanding. “Where do you want to go?”

From the far side of the room, Bucky shifted, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his face shadowed in the dim light. He hadn’t said much since they brought you back to the compound, but his presence was constant, like a silent protector.

“Where would you go?” Bucky asked quietly, his voice low but steady, cutting through the silence. His blue eyes met yours, calm, as if he’d follow you anywhere if it meant keeping you safe.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart still aching, but then—despite everything, despite the pain—a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Switzerland.”

Nat’s eyebrows shot up, a small laugh escaping her lips despite the tension. “Switzerland?”

You shrugged, forcing a laugh of your own, though it was weak. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to live there. You know… fresh air, the Alps, chocolate. All that good stuff.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, his arms dropping slightly as he watched you. His lips quirked into a faint smile, the kind that barely reached his eyes but still offered some kind of warmth. 

“Switzerland, huh?” he said, his voice lighter, though you could still hear the worry beneath it. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

You nodded, trying to hold on to the fleeting moment of levity. “Yeah, I’ll just… disappear into the mountains. Maybe open a chocolate shop. Be a hermit or something.”

Nat let out a small chuckle, squeezing your knee gently. “Well, if you’re moving to Switzerland, I expect free chocolate for life.”

For a moment, the heaviness in the room lifted, the faint laughter between you, Nat, and Bucky providing a small reprieve from the storm inside. But it didn’t last long. The ache in your chest was still there, gnawing at you from the inside out.

“I just… I don’t know if I can stay here,” you whispered, your voice cracking again.

Nat pulled you into a soft hug, her arms wrapped around you as she rested her chin on your shoulder. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just know that whatever you decide, we’re here for you.”

“Let’s go. We’ve got the Quinjet.” Bucky said casually.

You blinked, taken aback, your mind struggling to process if he was serious. “Wait… isn’t that illegal?”

Bucky’s smirk grew a little wider, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Not if you say you’re living in the Alps. No one will know.”

Nat chuckled beside you, shaking her head in disbelief. “Seriously, Buck?”

He shrugged, still leaning casually against the wall. “I’m just saying. You want to go to Switzerland, we can be there in a few hours.”

Despite the exhaustion weighing you down, you couldn’t help but laugh softly, a real one this time. The thought of disappearing into the mountains with Bucky and Nat—away from everything, even just for a moment—felt like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the chaos inside you.

Nat gave you a playful nudge. “See? Even Bucky’s ready to smuggle you out of here if you need it.”

“But I have to handle something first,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, that protective edge returning. “When I’m done, we’ll go.”

× × × × 

The night was dark, the rain having slowed to a light drizzle. Bucky stalked through the compound grounds, his mind racing, heart pounding with a mix of anger and frustration. He’d seen Steve’s name pop up on his phone—a heads-up that the man was on his way here. To see you.

And Bucky couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything Steve did.

Steve’s figure appeared through the mist, walking toward the compound with his usual purposeful stride, but the moment he caught sight of Bucky, his steps slowed.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice was wary, confused.

“You’re not going in there.” Bucky stepped into his path, his face hard. 

Steve frowned, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about? I need to see Y/N.”

“You’re not going near her.” Bucky’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. 

 “She’s my girlfriend, Bucky. I have a right to talk to her.” Steve’s gaze darkened, his frustration mounting.

Bucky’s laugh was bitter, sharp. “Girlfriend? You lost that right the second you lied to her. The second you hurt her, you punk.”

Steve stepped forward, his voice low, angry. “This isn’t your place. I need to fix this. I need to talk to her.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with fury, and for a moment, all the years of holding back, of stepping aside for Steve, bubbled to the surface. He moved closer, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You don’t get it, do you? I gave up on Y/N for you. I stood back—for you—because I thought you’d take care of her. And now? Now you’ve gone and fucked her over.”

Steve’s face twisted in confusion, anger flashing in his eyes. “What are you talking about? Gave up? She’s never been—”

“She was,” Bucky snapped, cutting him off. “Before you even realized what you had, Steve, I was there. But I didn’t do anything because I thought she’d be better off with you. You were the golden boy, the hero. And now you’ve ruined her.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, his chest rising and falling with barely controlled breaths. “You’ve been in love with her this whole time?”

Bucky didn’t flinch. His voice was steady, hard. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? What matters is you hurt her, Steve. You don’t get to fix this on your terms.” 

Steve’s fists clenched as he stepped forward, his face twisted with anger. “Move. This is between me and Y/N.”

“I’m not letting you through,” Bucky said, his eyes blazing, daring Steve to push him.

Steve’s frustration boiled over, and with a sharp movement, he shoved Bucky hard in the chest, trying to get past him. “Get out of my way, Bucky!”

Bucky stumbled barely, but he recovered almost immediately. The moment he regained his balance, he shoved Steve back with just as much force, his voice a low, angry growl. 

“You’re not going anywhere near her!”

Steve snarled and came at Bucky again, this time grabbing him by the collar and pushing him against the doorframe. “I need to talk to her! You don’t get to decide!”

Bucky’s hands flew up, gripping Steve’s jacket as he shoved him back again, harder this time, their faces inches apart. “She doesn’t want to see you right now!”

Steve’s eyes flashed with desperatiom, and before either of them realized it, they were nose-to-nose, fists clenched, chests heaving, the tension dangerous.

“You think you’re the only one who cares about her?” Steve snapped, his voice low and venomous. “I love her.”

“And you’ve proven exactly what that means to you,” Bucky bit back, his voice filled with icy fury. “You’re not fixing this by charging in like you always do. She’s done with you.”

Steve let out a frustrated growl and swung his arm out, pushing Bucky off him. “You think I’m just supposed to walk away?”

Bucky shoved Steve back again, his grip tightening on Steve’s shirt, their faces just inches apart now. His voice was a low, dangerous growl. “You think stepping in now, after everything you’ve done, makes it better? She’s broken because of you. You did that, Steve. And I’m not letting you make it worse.”

Steve’s nostrils flared, his eyes dark with a mixture of anger and something deeper—guilt, maybe. His grip tightened on Bucky’s jacket as he squared up, their bodies tense, on the edge of an all-out brawl. “And what, you’re just going to sweep in? Take care of her? You think that’s what she needs right now?”

“I’m trying to keep her from getting hurt any more than she already has,” Bucky hissed, his voice barely more than a whisper now, his eyes locked on Steve’s. “She trusted you. She loved you. And you broke her. So yeah, I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you away from her until she’s ready to deal with you.”

Steve’s breath hitched, his voice sharp with frustration. “You think you’re better than me? You think you haven’t hurt her too?”

Bucky’s grip tightened as his eyes flashed dangerously. “I never lied to her. I never betrayed her.”

Steve let out a short, bitter laugh. “But you kept quiet, didn’t you? You stood there, watching, and said nothing. You let me take her, and now you’re pretending like you’re the hero. But the truth is, you were a coward then, and you’re still a coward now.”

Something snapped in Bucky at those words. His fist shot up, shoving Steve hard enough to slam him back into the doorframe with a loud thud, his chest heaving as he glared at his best friend with pure fury in his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to me about being a coward. I gave her up because I thought she’d be better off with you. But you ruined her, Steve.”

For a second, Steve’s eyes flashed with something close to regret, but the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. He stepped forward again, ready for whatever came next. “I didn’t know. I didn’t—”

“You never knew,” Bucky growled, pushing him back again, but this time it was more controlled, less of a full force shove and more of a warning. “You were too busy being the hero to see what was right in front of you.”

Steve took a deep breath, his hands still balled into fists, but something shifted between them—like they both realized, in that moment, that this fight wasn’t going to solve anything. Slowly, almost reluctantly, they both let go of each other, their chests still heaving with the remnants of the almost-fight that had just played out.

The tension between them lingered, thick and heavy in the air, but neither of them moved. They stood there, inches apart, breathing hard, their anger still simmering just beneath the surface.

“You don’t get to just walk in there and fix this,” Bucky said, his voice low but firm. 

Steve took a step back, his face still tense with frustration and guilt. He didn’t say anything.

“Go home Steve.” Bucky insisted, “You’ve done enough.”

× × × ×

6 months later.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee curled in the air as you stepped out of the café, clutching the two steaming cups in your hands. The world seemed quieter here, like the city didn’t press in on you quite as much, even though you had only been back for a few days. Six months. Six months of distance, of trying to build yourself back up after being shattered into pieces.

You inhaled deeply, letting the cool breeze rush over you, easing some of the tension coiled tight in your chest.

And then—everything stopped.

From across the street, you felt it. The weight of someone’s gaze locking onto you. Slowly, you looked up, your heart skipping a beat, your body freezing in place.

Steve.

He stood there, as if time itself had conspired to bring this moment crashing down upon you. His face was frozen in shock, his hand mid-motion as the small boy next to him tugged on his sleeve, trying to get his attention. But Steve’s focus was entirely on you.

He looked the same—yet older, somehow, like the months had worn him down in ways you hadn’t expected. His eyes—those familiar blue eyes—locked onto yours, and the rest of the world fell away.

Your heart thundered in your ears, drowning out the city’s noise. All that existed was the look on his face—surprise, yes, but there was something else too. Regret. Pain. Questions he couldn’t voice.

You felt rooted to the spot, torn between the urge to run and the overwhelming need to hold your ground. You could see it in his eyes—he wanted to come closer, to ask where you had been, why you left, why you never told him. His hand gripped the boy’s shoulder like he needed something to tether him to the moment.

And then, with a jarring snap, the moment broke.

A warm arm slid around your waist, pulling you into a comforting embrace towards his body. 

“Hey love,” Dane Whitman’s familiar British accent rumbled softly beside you, his lips brushing your temple as he pressed a gentle kiss there. “Got your ham and cheese croissant.”

The simple, easy intimacy of it would have been grounding—if not for the fact that you could feel Steve’s eyes still burning into you from across the street. You could sense him standing there, as if the world had collapsed around him. As if he was watching something slip away that he hadn’t even realized he was losing.

Dane’s brow furrowed as he noticed your tension, noticed the way you hadn’t responded, hadn’t even moved. 

“Y/N?” he asked softly, leaning down slightly to meet your eyes. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer.

When you didn’t answer, Dane followed your line of sight.

He stiffened.

You didn’t need to see his expression to know what was happening. The air between the three of you felt charged, heavy with unspoken words, with everything that had been left behind. Dane’s fingers flexed against your waist, a silent claim—a reassurance, or maybe a question he didn’t dare ask.

Because he knew who Steve was. And he knew exactly what seeing him again meant.

You could feel the tension roll through Dane’s body as he lifted his gaze from Steve back to you, his eyes softening. He didn’t ask, didn’t press. But his arm around you was both a comfort and a shield.

“Let’s go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t dare look back at Steve again. You couldn’t.

Dane gave a subtle nod, but his hold on you never faltered. He gently guided you down the street, his body leaning protectively into yours as if he could shield you from the weight of the past you were leaving behind.

But as you walked away, the image of Steve lingered. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back, watching as you disappeared from his reach once again. And even though you didn’t turn around, you knew—you knew—what he had seen.

You. Walking away.

With someone else.

The distance between you and Steve had always been a wound, one you had tried to heal in the months you were gone. But this? This felt like salt poured into an open cut, the sting of it sharper than you’d anticipated.

Because despite everything, despite the way your heart still aches from the cracks he had left, a part of you wondered—what if?

But the life you had returned to wasn’t the one you left. And as Dane’s arm tightened around your waist, grounding you in the present, you knew that the past—no matter how deeply it was woven into your soul—was behind you.

Even if it wasn’t behind Steve.

[shizuturnspages]

Yandere scaramouche, capitano and diluc with reader that reject their confession because they're a dude. Reader is a man who's not exactly homophobic but you get the point, I like this scenario cuz it basically means the yandere will snap.

I wanna see something breaks in them.

Broken Confessions

Synopsis: You never expected this. Never in your wildest dreams. Three of the most dangerous men in Teyvat—each one with their own brand of obsession—confessed their feelings to you. The fact that you rejected them because you’re a man, and they’re not, was a fact they couldn’t stomach. And now, what was once obsession turns to madness. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Scaramouche, Capitano, Diluc x Male Reader

Scaramouche – The Puppet Who Lost His Strings

When Scaramouche confessed his feelings to you, there was a certain arrogance in his words. He believed, with all his heart, that you would be his, no matter what. He was Scaramouche, after all, the sixth Harbinger. What man could resist him?

But you did.

"I can’t—" You shook your head, trying to find the right words. "I’m not like that. You’re… you’re a man. I���m not… like that."

Scaramouche froze. His eyes narrowed, his lips parting in disbelief, as if you’d slapped him across the face.

"What?" His voice was a strange mix of anger and incredulity. "What do you mean, you’re not like that? Are you telling me, after all this time, after everything I've done for you, that you would reject me… because I’m a man?"

He couldn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend. You had been so perfect for him—so receptive to his touches, his words, his presence. And now, you rejected him so easily, just because of your own shallow reasoning. He, Scaramouche, who had bent the world to his will, who had crushed kingdoms and sent armies running in fear—wasn’t good enough for you because of something so trivial as gender?

A twisted laugh bubbled in his throat. "So, I’m not enough for you because you don’t like men? Do you think I care about such petty things?!"

He approached you slowly, step by step, his eyes gleaming with an eerie, malicious light. "You don’t get to decide that. Not anymore."

His next words were spoken low, venom dripping from them. "You’ll regret this. I’ll make sure you never forget me. No one else will ever be enough for you. And I’ll make sure of that. I’ll make you love me."

Before you could even react, he was gone. But the air around you felt thick, like the storm before a hurricane, and you knew, deep down, that your rejection had just sealed your fate.

Capitano – The Soldier Who Cannot Lose Control

Capitano had always been calm, disciplined, and loyal to the Tsarista, but there was something about you that caused him to feel vulnerable, something about the way you laughed that made his heart twist in strange, unfamiliar ways.

When he confessed, his words were steady, filled with the type of certainty that comes from years of service. "I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, but you… You are everything to me." He smiled down at you, a rare, genuine smile. "I will protect you, no matter what. All you have to do is stay by my side."

But then, when you rejected him, it shattered something inside of him.

You spoke carefully, trying not to hurt his feelings, but the words felt like daggers as they left your lips. "I… I'm not interested in men like that. I’m sorry."

Capitano's face went pale. His eyes widened, and for a long, painful moment, he didn't say anything. The cold, disciplined persona he wore cracked. He was a man of steel, both in body and mind, but now, you could see the crack in his mask, the hint of a rage that was barely contained.

"You’re not interested in men like me?" His voice dropped, becoming deeper, rougher. "You really think you get to make that choice? To tell me that after all this, after everything I’ve sacrificed, I’m not worthy of your affection?"

He stepped toward you, slowly, methodically, his presence suffocating. His once calm demeanour had been replaced by a dangerous quiet, a simmering rage that he struggled to keep in check. "I offered you my loyalty. My protection. My devotion. And you reject it because of something so trivial as my gender?"

You could see his knuckles tightening, and though he didn't raise his voice, every word came out like a chilling threat. "I’ll never leave you alone now. You’ve made a grave mistake, and you will come to regret it. No one will love you like I can. And soon enough, you’ll realise it. You’ll see that there’s no escaping me."

Diluc – The Searing Fury of Rejection

Diluc’s confession had been the most earnest of all. He wasn’t one for grand declarations, but there was something about you that had ignited a fire inside him, something that made him forget his duty, his focus. For a man so controlled, so burdened with responsibility, you were the one thing that made him feel like he wasn’t just a shadow of his father’s legacy.

"I don’t know what it is about you, but…" His voice had been low, gravelly. "You make me feel like I’m finally alive again. I know I’m not the easiest person to love, but I can’t deny it anymore. I care for you. And I want you with me, by my side, for all that I am."

But you, the one person he thought would understand him, rejected him.

"I’m sorry, but I can’t. You’re a man, and I’m just not like that."

Diluc’s expression faltered for a moment, as if your words had physically struck him. His entire body stiffened, and the flames that had always been controlled within him roared like a wildfire.

"You don’t want me?" He looked at you, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Do you think I’m just like every other man? That I’m replaceable? Is that what you think of me?"

His eyes darkened, the shadows of his past resurfacing in his gaze. "You think you can reject me like this? Think again."

He didn’t raise his voice, but the anger in his eyes was unmistakable, and it sent a chill down your spine. "You’re not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. You’ll come to understand that rejecting me was your first and last mistake. I’ll make sure you know that. I’ll make sure you see that I’m the only one who will ever love you the way you need to be loved."

[linos-luna]

Cameras 🔪

Yandere!Han x Reader

Warnings: YANDERE, violence, toxic behavior, manipulation, spying, 18+

———————————————— •

You sit at your desk, staring down at the open notebook, your fingers tracing its edges, but your mind is somewhere else. The house is quiet, a little too quiet, and that familiar, uneasy feeling creeps over you again. Lately, it’s like someone’s been watching you, even when you’re sure you’re alone.

You try to shake it off, just like you’ve done every other time, telling yourself it’s nothing. But deep down, you know it’s not just paranoia. The little things have been adding up. Your stuff is always out of place, your jewelry box lid half open, a photo frame slightly crooked. And Han… well, you had mentioned it to him once, but he brushed it off.

"You're stressed, Y/N," he had said with that charming smile. "You need to relax."

That smile you love. Now it just feels off.

Your eyes drift to your bedside lamp. Something flashes, just for a second, but you see it. You sit up, heart skipping a beat as you reach for the lamp. Unscrewing the lampshade, you freeze when you see it. A tiny, blinking red light. A camera.

What the hell??

Your pulse quickens as you stare at the small device in your hand. Why is there a camera here? Who put it here?

But you already know. You just don’t want to believe it.

Your breath comes in short gasps as you tear through your room. Behind the framed pictures, inside the air vents, even inside your stuffed bear. More cameras. Everywhere.

You feel sick. How long has this been happening? How much has Han seen?

Without thinking, you grab your phone and dial Han. The anger in your voice barely masks the fear. “Han, we need to talk. Now.”

It doesn’t take him long to show up. His face is full of concern—or is it something darker? You can’t tell anymore.

“What’s going on?” he asks, stepping inside like nothing’s wrong. Like he hasn’t been invading every second of your life.

You hold up the camera, your hand trembling. “Why are there cameras in my room?”

For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. And then, just like that, his mask drops. The concern fades, and what’s left makes your stomach twist.

“I did it to protect you,” he says softly, stepping closer. “You don’t understand. I need to know you’re safe.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. You want to scream, to cry, but all that comes out is cold, hard disbelief. "This isn’t protection, Han. This is control."

His eyes darken, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don’t get to walk away from me."

Your body tenses as he steps closer, too close. His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can react. Pain surges through your arm as his grip tightens.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he growls, his breath hot against your face. “No one else will take care of you like I do. You don’t get to leave me.”

A wave of panic crashes over you, but underneath it, anger is building. You twist your wrist, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightens. The pressure makes your vision blur with tears.

“No, Han…” Your voice trembling with fury. “Y-you’re sick!”

Without thinking, you drive your knee up into his stomach, hard.

He lets out a grunt, doubling over just enough for you to yank your arm free. You stumble back, heart pounding, adrenaline flooding your system. But then Han straightens, his face twisting with rage.

Before you can react, his hand swings out, slapping you across the cheek. Pain stinging in your face, knocking you off balance. You crash into the dresser, books and other nicknacks scattering to the floor. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you whimpered a bit in pain.

He’s standing over you now, breathing heavily, his fists clenched, but then something shifts in his expression. His eyes soften, a flicker of regret passing over his face as he takes in your terrified look.

“Baby, I’m sorry!” Han pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t cry, please! I-I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

The room spins as you force yourself up, your legs trembling beneath you. Your hand brushes against the dresser, and you grab the nearest thing, a heavy lamp. Without a second thought, you throw it at him.

It misses, crashing into the wall behind him, but Han still flinches, staggering back as he dodges. His eyes widen, and for a moment, you see hurt flicker there.

“Y/N? W-why are you trying to hurt me?” His voice trembles, and you pause, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You’re the one getting violent!” you shout, the words tearing from your throat.

For a split second, he looks like he’s about to cry, and something inside you twists painfully. He just stands there, staring at you with those sad, broken eyes, making your heart ache.

He’s manipulating you. You know it, you *know* it, but that pang of guilt creeps in anyway. You have to shake it off.

“Stop it, Han. It’s not working. Not this time.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the softness drains from his face. The mask drops, revealing the cold, eerie calm underneath.

“Y/N…” he says, his voice unnervingly steady. “You know I love you. Everything I do is because I love you.” He takes a step closer, his eyes darkening. “And I’ll do anything for you.”

Han’s words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. His eerie calm sends a chill down your spine, but your legs won’t move. His eyes bore into yours, dark and unwavering, and you realize with a sickening jolt that there’s no reasoning with him. He’s beyond that now.

You back up slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Han… stay away from me.”

But he doesn’t listen. Instead, he takes another step toward you, his voice lowering into something soft, almost tender. “I’m the only one who can protect you, Y/N. Don’t you see? No one else will love you the way I do.”

You feel the wall press against your back, cold and unyielding. There’s nowhere else to go.

“Please, Han,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Don’t do this.”

For a moment, his face softens again, but you know it’s a lie, just like before. He closes the distance between you in two long strides, grabbing your arms and pinning you against the wall. His grip is bruising, his breath hot and uneven as he leans in, his eyes glinting with something dangerous.

“Why can’t you just be mine?” he whispers harshly, his fingers digging into your skin. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”

Panic surges through you, but your body feels frozen. You struggle against his hold, but he’s too strong. His hands move to your throat, not tightening, but just enough to make you realize how helpless you are in that moment.

Your vision blurs with tears as you gasp for air, your body trembling under his hold. This is it, you think. It’s the end. You close your eyes in defeat, bracing for the inevitable as his hands apply light pressure to your throat.

But then, just as quickly as it started, the pressure eases. You blink in confusion, feeling his grip loosen. When you open your eyes, Han’s expression has changed… his face etched with guilt, sadness pooling in his eyes.

“Baby…” he whispers softly, his hands still hovering at your throat, but no longer squeezing.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch him look down at his own hands, as if seeing them for the first time. Tears start to roll down his cheeks, silent and slow, before he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I-I’m sorry…” he sobs, his voice breaking.

His arms wrap around you, almost crushing you against him, and the sudden shift feels jarring. You can hear him weeping, his breath catching between sobs. The warmth of his body, the way he clings to you, it's so different from the rage that had consumed him moments ago.

You stand frozen, your body still shaking, unsure of what to do. Was this another trick? Another way to manipulate you, to pull you back into his control? Or… was he actually genuine this time?

It was hard to tell, and that terrified you the most...

[yandereonepieceimagines]

I really like how you write them! Can I have Akainu, Crocodile and Doflamingo being outsmarted? With a sea prism cuff.?

----------

But of course! And oohhhh, I see exactly what you’re trying to do. :P

I absolutely love the idea. Especially with Doffy involved! He’d be all over that, in his own unique way, of course.

By the way, the lampposts are reinforced with diamond cores. So, it’s pretty much impossible for many to break out of those restraints right away.

------------

Warning! Hinting at NSFW!

Donquixote Doflamingo

The cliffs of Coral Spine Bluff on the north side of Stone Huts Island overlooked the sea in a sheer drop, framed by bursts of crashing waves below. It was a popular lookout spot. Scenic and peaceful. At least, until today.

Now, silence ruled.

A crowd had gathered just beyond the edge of the bluff, wide-eyed and unmoving, and with their breath caught in their throats as they looked upon the bound man at the cliff's edge.

And not just any man.

Donquixote Doflamingo.

Tall, imposing and with a lean chest wrapped in pink feathers and exposed muscle beneath, he stood with one wrist shackled to a titanium pylon by a sea prism stone cuff. Even in restraint, his presence was downright monstrous. An apex predator frozen into a moment of stillness. You had moved in a blur, barely quicker than his reflexes, ducking under the sudden arc of his arm as he'd tried to grab you. His fingers had grazed your shoulder, just enough to remind you how close you'd come to being caught. Your heart thundered, your pulse roaring in your ears, but you didn’t stop. You slipped in just close enough to snap the cuff shut around his left wrist, feeling the faint tremble of risk replaced by a sharp burst of control.

The sunlight glared off his signature shades, but nothing could mask the slow, devilish curve of his grin.

You had done it. Somehow.

Your chest still heaved from the effort of the confrontation. Your hood was up, cloak fluttering behind you in the wind as you retreated down the path. Your ship was already prepped to take off. The town below buzzed with disbelief, but you didn’t linger long enough to revel in the shock of the citizens. You had no intention of staying to bask in this temporary moment of victory.

Not with him.

Not when his presence still clung to the back of your mind like a thread you couldn’t shake off.

You hadn’t said anything to him. No parting words. No quips. Just the snap of the cuffs and the immediate sprint toward the docks. Your instincts screamed louder than any triumph.

He didn’t thrash. He didn’t snarl, either.

He only watched. Unmoving. Still.

That was until you reached the ship’s deck and looked back.

His head tilted slowly, sunglasses catching the sunlight. That smile; the kind that made your skin crawl and spine freeze, widened into something amused and sinister all at once.

And then came his voice. Low. Drawling. Playful. A velvet threat soaked in something warm and terrible.

"You are only delaying the inevitable."

Your blood ran cold, and the words sunk into your chest like an anchor. The sea breeze stilled. The air itself stopped moving.

You could’ve sworn even the gulls fell silent in that moment.

The space between you and the bluff stretched wider with each second. And yet his presence loomed even larger. Like it had taken root in the very air.

He fed on the unease like it was foreplay. The tension in your shoulders only deepening his pleasure.

His smirk widened just a fraction more. Slow and deliberate. As if savoring your reaction was more satisfying than any physical retaliation. His head tilted slightly further, as though admiring you from afar. Like a toy that had just slipped out of reach but not yet out of his control. And just for a heartbeat… So brief it might have gone unnoticed… He trembled.

A subtle shiver rolled through his shoulders. Frustration. Hunger. That instinctive, possessive rage restrained just enough to keep him still. It made what he said next feel even more unsettling…

"The next time restraints are used," he purred, voice laced with thick innuendo, "it will be in my bed. You'll be the one trembling then.~"

That laugh. Slow. Drawn out. Soaked in anticipation.

"Fufufufufu!~"

The sound echoed off the cliffs, riding the wind like a haunting promise. Every villager present flinched.

You turned away without a word, the air tighter around your chest than ever before. The sails caught, the ropes strained and the ship creaked to life.

But your pulse didn't settle.

Not when you could still hear him.

Not when you knew he meant it.

Sakazuki Akainu

The docks of Stone Huts Island buzzed with tension, and the usual bustle of merchants and fishmongers were reduced to whispers and wide eyes. Just off the plaza, near the storefronts shaded by awnings and lanterns, a titanium lamp post now bore a new, very jarring addition.

Admiral Sakazuki Akainu was chained to it.

One wrist locked tight in sea prism stone. The restraint bit into his skin, veins twitching with controlled fury. His crimson uniform, now dusted from the scuffle, still clung to his massive frame like armor. The Justice kanji on his cloak’s back looked more ominous than noble now.

His jaw was clenched, the hard lines of his face locked in a snarl that simmered with rage and something far more sinful.

You had done it. You had actually done it.

Your cloak billowed in the sea breeze as you made your way toward the ship waiting at the end of the dock. Your steps were steady, but your heart was racing. You were still recovering from the sprint, the gamble. You hadn’t expected it to work. Not with him. But you had struck in that narrow window, when his guard was just low enough. The risk had nearly cost you.

Even in the thick of it, he hadn’t used his Devil Fruit powers.

You knew he could have scorched the stone beneath your feet or turned the air itself molten. But he didn’t. Not here. Not with civilians present. And certainly not with you in reach. He didn’t want to hurt you. No. You realized now. Not even close. That restraint wasn’t just physical. It was personal.

And that gave you just enough time to act.

You had ducked under his reach and snapped the cuff shut around his wrist, retreating in the same breath. It had been close. Close enough that your back had nearly broken out in a sweat at the heat of the proximity. One more second, and you’d have been in his grip.

But now?

Now he stood like a volcano forced into stillness. Surrounded by townspeople too afraid to speak and too transfixed by the rare sight of an Admiral subdued.

“You think anyone else gives a damn about you?” Akainu barked suddenly, his voice sharp but composed. Measured in a way only a Marine could manage in public. “You think any of them know who you really are?”

Locals flinched, some unsure of what he actually means, a few backing away as his voice cut through the plaza like heat. But he didn’t look at them.

He looked at you.

“You just do not get it,” he growled, eyes narrowing beneath the shadow of his cap. “I’m the only one who sees you. You can run. Hell, you can chain me. But it won’t change that.”

He didn’t shout it like a threat. He meant it. Every word.

And you knew better than to mistake these words- that kind of obsession, for anything else.

You reached the gangplank. One hand gripped the railing. But something inside made you pause.

And when you turned back…

There it was.

Not the cold, cruel sneer of an Admiral known for incinerating pirates.

It was that smile.

A heated grin. Deep. Hungry. The smile of a man shackled not just to a post, but to the thought of you. His gloved fists clenched tight at his sides, and though rage still shimmered behind his eyes, it warred with something much more dangerous. Something that flushed across his cheeks in a soft, unsettling hue.

A blush.

High on his cheeks, stark against the weathered bronze of his skin, it stood out like a brand. You hadn’t known Akainu could blush. Not a man built of lava and law. But there it was. Undeniable. And it made the hunger behind his eyes all the more disturbing.

You stared back. Just for a moment. The ship rocked beneath your feet, the wind curling around your cloak, but you stayed rooted in place. Drawn to the sight of him. Not out of victory, but from the chill crawling up your spine.

In that moment, you understood exactly what he was thinking.

He wasn’t only angry because you had gotten away.

He was also thrilled that you’d dared to get close and defy him in the way that you did.

You hadn’t escaped.

You had ignited something deep, volatile and entirely yours.

And now it was only a matter of time before it came roaring back for you.

Sir Crocodile

The sun bore down upon Stone Huts Island, its tightly packed stone houses casting compact shadows across the winding alleys that twisted toward the busy port. This wasn’t some desolate battlefield. This was a vibrant hub, full of noise, motion and oblivious normalcy. And that was precisely why Crocodile had chosen it. Word had placed you here, long enough to act. He would strike in a place you'd never expect to be vulnerable. In plain sight.

But he miscalculated.

The sharp clink of sea prism stone cuffs broke the salty breeze as Crocodile released a guttural snarl, his left wrist locked tight, the second cuff coiled around a titanium lantern post. The metal barely groaned beneath the sudden strain. His instincts had fired instantly the moment you'd lunged. He saw it coming, but too late. His abilities, stripped by the sea prism stone, couldn’t activate fast enough to slip free, to ensnare you in turn. You were a blur. He’d almost caught you. Almost reversed it all.

Instead, he was bound.

His fur-lined coat slipped from his shoulders in the clash, falling into a heap of fabric and dust at his feet.

For a split second, fear had surged through you. Getting that close was like leaping into a lion’s jaws. His sheer size, that suffocating presence… Every single part of him screamed danger. But the instant the cuff snapped into place, that fear evaporated, replaced by a cold, relieved certainty.

The trap had worked. He was locked. And his rage surged, thick as cigar smoke in his throat.

He bared his teeth for only a second. A flash of untamed hatred. His heavy-lidded eyes, burning beneath thin, furrowed brows, locked right on you. The long scar across his nose looked even more severe in the tightness of his glare. Strands of black hair had slipped from their slicked-back hold, framing his face in disarray, and he looked like a man one twitch away from snapping everything around him.

At his feet, his cigar lay crushed beneath his boot. His golden hook, gleaming and inert, gave a useless twitch. He could still flex it, but it had been neutralized. Useless and mocking in the light.

Curious townsfolk had gathered and formed a nervous semicircle along the edge of the plaza. Locals. Dockhands. A child tucked behind a merchant’s leg. No one spoke. No one dared. Even bound, Crocodile exuded the weight of a monster. A Warlord subdued, but far from defeated.

They knew better than to look too long. Better than to speak.

And still, he smiled.

Not the slow, amused smirk of confidence.

This was thinner. Tighter. Sharpened into something almost venomous. You hadn’t merely escaped. You’d outplayed him. Lured him in. Outmaneuvered him where he was supposed to have every advantage.

Anyone else would already be dust for less. But you weren’t just anyone.

His eyes tracked your ship as it slipped from the docks, sails rippling in the wind. There you stood at the bow, composed beneath the deep hood of your cloak. You always hid your presence. Since the very beginning. Even now, as you drifted out of reach, you kept your distance cloaked.

But just as you turned away… Just as your head tilted back to face forward… It happened.

A flicker.

The ghost of a smirk. Small. Involuntary. Not for him. Not meant to taunt. Just a brief curl of satisfaction you didn’t even know you let slip.

He didn’t flinch, but his jaw locked hard and a muscle beneath his scar jumped. His shoulders coiled with renewed rage, the cuff biting into his wrist as he tested it again, knowing it was useless.

Not because of your guts. Not even because you’d caught him. But because of that smirk.

The unintentional insult. The accidental reminder that you had beaten him. And worse… You didn’t even mean to rub it in.

Your scent still lingered faintly. The moment you had locked him in place played over and over in his mind, each replay feeding the gnawing ache in his lower gut. Desire twisted inside him.

You hadn’t just won. You had stirred something.

He didn’t crave your blood. He never had. But what he always wanted from you ran even deeper now. Slower. The fire in your eyes. The edge in your voice. He wanted the look you’d give when the game turned. The moment of realization, not from afar, but close. Very, very close. From behind closed doors.

Next time, there would be no second chance.

It wouldn’t be a chase. It would be a claiming.

And when he caught you, because he would …. He wouldn’t stop at just metaphorical chains.

He would tether you to him, in every way.

Let the villagers remember this day. Let them tremble at the sight of a Warlord restrained.

This wasn’t defeat. This was obsession, bared for all to see.

And you had made him want.

[yourname-exee]

Warnings: P in V penetration, squirting,Oral (f receiving), Overstimulation, and denied orgasm.

(divider made by @adornedwithlight )

Virgin Nanami who was already in disbelief that someone as pretty as you would agree to even talk to him let alone be his girlfriend.

Virgin Nanami who seems so nonchalant most times gets flustered around you when you show the tiniest bit of skin even if it's just your stomach.

Virgin Nanami who could care less about Gojo but gets feelings of possessiveness when Gojo flirts with you.

Virgin Nanami who is a nervous wreck when you guys have your first kiss, wanting it to be the best first kiss you'd ever have. Hopefully he gets to be the only one to experience this.

Virgin Nanami who gets a raging hard on when you send him a nude for the first time, the kind of boner that left me aching and in pain until he dealt with it.

Virgin Nanami who fists his cock, the leaking tip a deep shade of red from trying to chase the orgasm he so desperately needed when looking at that picture.

Virgin Nanami whose tongue worked over your clit and through your shiny folds in such a manner that it left you wondering if he's done this before.

Virgin Nanami who humped the bed in hopes to get some friction to his aching member, it throbs and twitches every time his name falls from your lips, the soft honey tone causing more blood to rush to it, the veins along the shaft to pulse bigger.

Virgin Nanami who almost cums when only his tip slides through your soaked folds causing his whole body to twitch, biting down on his lip in hopes to keep the whimper he feels in throat from coming out.

Virgin Nanami who has to keep the pace slow or else he was going to finish early, not wanting to cum before you. He rocks his hips against yours not too sure what rhythm to use, you take note of this and flip so you have control, you slide yourself up and down, his cock twitching at the dynamic change. You place your palms on his chest pushing up so only his tip was left snuggled between your folds before, sliding back down, you roll your hips causing Nanami to see stars.

Virgin Nanami who was left whimpering with tears clumping along his lash line when you stopped for the third time now, your fingers squeezing at the base of his cock tight enough for the need to cum to go down so you can go longer.

Virgin Nanami who lets out the most pathetic sound when he was finally able to release, pumping you so full that some spurts out landing along your thighs and his stomach.

Virgin Nanami who ended up cumming before you, became bound and determined to give you the most euphoric finish he can pull from you.

Virgin Nanami whose tongue works on your clit, his lips sucking around the bud every time he curls his fingers up the pads of them sliding across that sweet gummy spot deep inside, the spot that caused your toes to curl so tight your foot cramped.

Virgin Nanami who felt himself ready to go again the moment that stream of squirt rushed out of you, his pupils dilated wide and cock throbbing having enjoyed every drop, suckling it up like it was the last known water source.

Virgin Nanami who seemed to have flipped a switch the second he was back inside of you, rutting into you as his fingers worked over your wet clit, he rolls his hips, squelching sounds bouncing off the walls when that sweet stream splashes against him once more causing his eyes to roll back, picking up pace as he chases his own end, you start to feel the effects of overstimulation kick in, your veins start to feel like lava, your moans and whimpers are a sweet melody to his ears, the noise alone has him teetering over edge, with one last thrust he pushes himself deep, spilling inside of you again, his arms finding there way around you, holding you flush against him.

Kento Nanami who lays next to you, gazing at your sleeping form, his fingers dancing across your bare skin, in his mind he wonders how he got a girl like you, thanking whatever higher being there was, that they gifted him you.

[12woso12]

Angry Woman

Part 1

TW: Does have some very heavy topics so look after yourselves and don't read if you don't want to

You were 21 years old and completely new to London. Having grown up in the North of England, everything felt backwards...including Arsenal. At 15 you were Manchester United's wonder kid. You were scoring goals for the senior team at a rate that no teenager had managed before.

The day of your 18th birthday you captained the U21 Lionesses in a European final and scored the winning goal. And at 19 you made your senior Lionesses debut.

Defenders hated you.

Forwards wanted to be you.

And your fans?

Well, you weren't sure if they wanted to be you, screw you or take you out for coffee. You were on the front page of every newspaper in the UK, whether you were modelling, showing off your football prowess or caught in public with your popstar boyfriend, the public rarely ever escaped your face.

When you made the shocking transfer from Manchester United to Arsenal, the entire footballing world halted in its tracks. You were United's star pupil, if fans were shocked at Alessia's transfer, then they were in utter disbelief at yours.

You would have died for United.

You walked through hell to wear that red shirt every week.

Literal hell.

From the outside you were golden. Everything about you shone passion and potential, you were praised at each turn, awarded with each goal or neat piece of trickery. The only thing missing from your game was an ability to control your temper. It wasn't as if you were a mean person, you wouldn't hurt people maliciously. You just...lost control.

The media gave you some lenience when it came to your rage. The tabloids blamed it on your unstable childhood, bouncing around foster home to foster home with no real family to call your own. Pundits could be a little harsher on you, the older you got the more they would criticise your inability to reign in your rage on the pitch. It had been okay when you were a hormonal teenager, but now at the ripe old age of 21, you were picking up a lot of heat for it.

You never really bothered to listen to the voices outside your bubble at United. Sure, you were a little more enthusiastic on the pitch than was acceptable but it was your only outlet. Football was your only source of therapy, your only way of forgetting what was going on away from the pitch.

Your anger didn't come from your fucked childhood.

It didn't originate from a dead family or a famous boyfriend who snuck around behind your back.

Your anger came from a place much darker.

Hell.

To you, United behind closed doors was hell.

It started the moment you begun to get senior minutes at United. You were barely 15 and still wore thick braces, the kind of braces you would see the high school nerd get bullied for in American coming of age movies. Looking back, that's what confused you most. How could someone like that be so interested in someone like you?

He was a god. A saviour. A husband. A father.

David Coben was 45 years old when he first touched you. And he was 51 when you finally stood up to him. He used to tell you that you were special, that you wanted him to touch you, to do things to you that no one had done before. He prayed on a vulnerable girl with no family to protect her. At first you screamed and cried and tried your hardest to avoid him... but he never failed to find you. Whether it was in a private corridor after a match or in the isolation of your hotel room on away days. David Coben always found you. And worst of all, he always got what he wanted.

If you refused, he'd tear up your contract with United himself, that's what he told you. And at 15 years old without having built a strong name for yourself it seemed impossible to leave United for something more successful.

So, you stayed.

And you told no one.

You became a star, a constant talking point in woman's football. Your fame shot to new heights when you started to date a pop star and that's when the modelling jobs began to pour in.

And suddenly, you were rolling in money.

But you still took everything that David gave to you. And then you took it out onto the pitch and gave the world a new talent to obsess over. The older you grew, your game became better but your anger became near catastrophic. It wasn't until you finished a season with 5 red cards and a serious telling off from Sarina Wiegman at your latest England camp that you decided enough was enough. You couldn't do it anymore. You had to say no.

That's when you moved to Arsenal.