Angry Pucca Novels & Stories

Wearing nothing but matching pajamas. But either way, I don’t really care. You see, I've been such an unfortunate case all of my life that I have forgotten this feeling for a very, very, long time. Anger. I am really angry, no, furious that my own future family would dare say such things. I’ve never felt this angry before. Not towards my bullies, not towards Clarence, not anyone. Yet, Luca is incredibly good at pushing someone’s buttons. I should have been mad at him and yelled at him that he was wrong. My mother isn’t like that!

Luca cursed me angrily and drove away down the street. After three hours,we were able to stock the goods into the warehouses. Luca was the most stressed here. He kept working just to let off some steam, not after giving me some few punches making my lips burst. My left cheeks were reddened and they were swelling,annoyingly. I was able to return a few punches which gave him only a busted lip. He does this anytime he's angry at me. I don't blame him,He cared for Hazel so much and wished I did the same to her.

“Please. Let me explain.” “Get out,” I said hoarsely. Her eyes filled, brimming with a shine I refused to believe. “I know you’re angry” “Get out.” “Luca” “Get out!” My voice cracked on the last word, rage bursting through me in a flood I couldn’t contain. I slammed the heel of my palm against the arm of the chair, the shock of it vibrating up my arm. “You don’t get to stand there and pretend this is nothing!”

I want to incinerate her obnoxious hair and her pufferfish mouth! "Breathe in, breathe out. That's it, calm down," Axar chanted, though I'm not sure if it's for me or him since I could tell that even he was having a hard time controlling his anger. His hackles are up and deep growls were vibrating in his chest. 'It's taking a lot for me to not just drag her out of that seat and toss her across the field. And maybe I could set the grass on fire and we'll add roasted bell peppers for breakfast. Human size.' I said, growling inwardly.

It was at that moment I knew I had screwed up big time by making a devil angry. FUCK!! . . #TBC

' Milo: 'I'm here if you need me. I stare. My thumb hovers. Why can't I just text back? Why does safe feel like a cage right now? I open a blank note instead. 'Captain Carter's highlight-reel goal came at the cost of two penalties and a near-fight. Talent doesn't excuse recklessness. The Ice Hawks keep winning despite their star forward, not because of him.' I type faster. Quicker. I call him arrogant. Selfish. Say he plays like the puck belongs to him personally. Say he looks at the stands like every eye is his birthright.

In anger, I throw the glass across the room breathing heavily. my phone rings again and I pick up immediately “And?” I say my voice deep and filled with anger as I gulp down another fill of the drink “She’s with us and we are heading to the DeLuca Mansion”

I scream as I angrily throw the glass I was holding in my hand and its shattered pieces spread across the floor. I can feel anger rise in me as my eyes turn yellow and my fingers partially transform into paws. I walk over to the sitting area where I lift up the couches and angrily throw them against the wall, caring less about the ruckus I’m causing in the living room. I walk over to the flat screen TV and angrily push it down from the cupboard. A few servants rush into the living room but none of them has the courage to approach or try to stop me. They very well know what they’ll be getting themselves into if they attempt to do that. I scream in fury as I pick up the glass table at the

I may sound like a clingy bītch, but I’d be clingy any day for Padrino’s fat cōck. “Fūck, you drive me crazy, Angel.” He whispered as his hand palmed my pūssy greedily. “This pūssy is mine.” He snarled in my ear, making me moan as my eyes rolled back. “Fūck my pūssy, Padrino.” I begged him as our ragged breaths filled the air. “Keep quiet, Angel.” He muttered before smacking my covered pūssy, making me laugh.

Then the charity angle, which the media devoured with the hunger of wolves who smell weakness. On the screen, Luca attempted to leave a building. Cameras flashed so quickly they looked like lightning trapped in human hands. He walked with his shoulders straight, his face composed, but I noticed what others would not. His jaw was too tight. His tie was slightly crooked. It was a small detail, almost invisible, yet it told me everything about the storm inside him. “He is angry,” I said softly while resting my chin against my knuckles. Matteo adjusted his cufflinks with the slow patience of a man who understands that anger is a gift if you know how to provoke it.