We Bare Bears Fanfic

"Fuck," he said, as his eyes lingered on my breasts. "If we do this, we do this my way." "Not a problem, Daddy," I said to be bratty, but when he lifted his eyes to meet mine, they were blazing. My pussy throbbed in response. He liked that. "Rule number one, you cannot tell your mother about anything we do." "I wouldn't." *** "Spread your legs, princess." I swallowed down any apprehension and did as he asked. "Mmm. Keep it bare, just like this. It'll feel better for you, and I love the soft skin against my tongue." I puffed out a breath at the thought of his tongue on me. He rubbed a callused finger down the bare lips of my pussy, and I shivered. Then he leaned down and gave it a lick. I moaned. So loud. *** It was already too much. I'd never had a tongue inside me, and it was heaven. "Please," I begged. "That feels..." All words faded from my brain as he started fucking me with his flexed tongue. I spread my legs as wide as they would go, hoping he could get deeper. I needed him deeper. "My tongue can only go so deep," Daddy said. "My cock can go much deeper, but you're not ready for that yet." "I am," I promised. "Please." Instead of answering me with words, he slid one thick finger inside me. I panted as it stretched me. I'd fingered myself but had been too embarrassed to buy a dildo. "Please, Daddy." *** Her Stepfather's Crush is a forbidden age-gap romance about dangerous attraction, love at first sight, and secrets that threaten to shatter everything. Trigger Warning: This book contains taboo themes, including a romantic/sexual relationship between a stepfather and stepdaughter. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

I can’t tell if we’re at war… or dancing around something far more dangerous. Getting traded to the Montreal Bears should’ve been a dream come true, the team I grew up idolizing, the jersey I always wanted to wear. Except there’s one problem. Luca Moretti. The NHL’s notorious bad boy. My new right wing. And the one man who’s made it his mission to outshine me at every turn. Too bad for him I’m faster, sharper, and my numbers don’t lie. Not that I’m competing. I’d never sink to his level. He’s reckless, infuriating, and impossible to ignore a storm of chaos that throws me completely off balance. When we’re not clashing on the ice, he pushes my buttons with teasing nicknames like Princess, Pretty Boy, and Babygirl. I hate it. I swear I do. So why does my body react like I don’t?

A young woman who bears the curse of wolfmen saves the mortal world from extinction when she battles a wolf clan set on world domination.

Today is the sixth time my girlfriend, Shirley Lake, is supposed to meet my parents. My parents and I wait at the restaurant for four whole hours. I call her over and over again, but she never picks up. Just as I'm about to try one last time, I see Shirley's childhood sweetheart, Joshua Solomon, post a picture on his Instagram, with the location tagged at a suburban hotel. The picture shows a woman's pale back, one shoulder bare, with a striking red spider lily tattoo visible on her skin. Underneath the picture was the caption, "We'll make it from 18 to 80." A mutual friend comments, "First-love couples are the sweetest!" I silently hit the like button, then comment, "Make sure to get buried together when you die. And don't come back to haunt anyone else."

Congratulations!! You got what you wanted. But don't get very happy. From now on, your life is going to change. You will regret your decision to marry me. Welcome to hell, Mrs Dhruv Goyal." My husband said to me right after we got married. ** In a whirlwind of deceit and broken promises, Mahima finds herself trapped in a marriage with Dhruv, a man who promised to make her life a living hell. As the cruel taunts and infidelity pile up, Mahima's only solace is the hope for a better tomorrow. But when fate takes a sharp turn, leaving Dhruv to grapple with the ghosts of his past and the uncertainty of his future, he finds himself drawn to a mysterious stranger who bears an uncanny resemblance to Mahima. Can he unravel the secrets of their intertwined destinies, or will he be forever trapped in a cycle of regret and longing? Join Dhruv on a journey of self-discovery and redemption as he navigates the treacherous waters of love and forgiveness.

My friend and I married into the Castellar family together. I married the older brother, who worked in high finance. My best friend married the younger, a senior fire officer. They didn’t tell us the truth until we were both pregnant. They were vampires. We were furious. But in the end, we forgave them because we still loved them. Until that night. We were staying at a vacation cabin when the fire started after midnight. The front door sealed itself shut, locked by a spell, trapping me inside. My best friend had gone out for a walk and escaped the fire by sheer luck. A car passed by on the forest road. She ran into the headlights, begging the driver to ram the door and save me. The man said coldly, “Pay first.” Inside the cabin, blood ran down my legs and soaked the floor. I tried to transfer the money, but my account was frozen. I called my husband. He hung up three times before the call finally went through. But the voice that answered wasn’t his. It was a woman’s. Vicky sounded calm, almost amused. She said he was busy. Then she added lightly that he’d been helping her set up a subcard and had accidentally disabled mine. My best friend called her husband next. She was crying. She told him there was a fire and I was trapped. He snapped back at her. “Stop lying. I hate people who make false emergency calls. I’m with Vicky checking fire hazards in her new place. Don’t bother me.” She didn’t hesitate again. She shoved the driver out, and drove straight into the cabin. The door shattered. She dragged me out with her bare hands. We lost our babies on the way to the hospital. When I woke up,we looked at each other for a long time. “I’m getting divorced,” she said. “So am I.”

When Naomi Sullivan married me, she was already ten million dollars in debt. I spent the last five years working three jobs to help her pay off her "debts" while providing for her as well as our son, Shane Lewis. Not once did I ever complain about anything. All along, I firmly believed that my efforts would pay off, and we would eventually lead a good life together. Last week, our company finally secured a massive investment. Naomi and I hugged as we celebrated the occasion. I thought that the hard times were finally over. Today, I ended up seeing Naomi featured in the financial news. Dressed in a formal gown, she was hailed as the sole heiress to a multi-billion-dollar empire. She was shown engaged in an animated conversation with her "investor", Jared Lewis. The news headline read, "Naomi Sullivan Completes Five-Year Adversity Trial, Proves Her Ability to Build from Scratch to the Board of Directors". I trudge home in a daze. When I get there, the five-year-old Shane is playing with the latest limited-edition toy robot. He looks at me with a frosty, distant expression that bears an uncanny resemblance to his mother's. "Mommy told me everything. You failed the trial, Daddy. You care too much about money."

After my father died, my mother remarried and took my younger sister and me with her. But her new husband had one condition—she could only bring one child. From people who used to hang around my dad, I later learned that my grandfather was actually a wealthy antique collector. My sister clung to him for her own future, refusing to let go. But in his eyes, her only job was to get straight A's; everything else—her clothes, her meals, her allowance—was kept to the bare minimum. I went with my stepfather instead. His business took off, and we eventually moved into a huge mansion. He even set me up with an engagement to the heir of a powerful, wealthy family. My sister was eaten up with jealousy. One day, she doused me in gasoline and dragged us both back in time to that day we had to choose our futures. This time, she lunged for my stepfather's hand and held on tight. "I want to stay with Mom and Dad," she announced. I didn't miss a beat. I immediately ducked behind my grandfather. 'Fine, Phoebe. You're the one who chose a life as a bargaining chip. Don't blame me for it. You can have it.'

I'm a nationally certified animal trainer running the Lion King, Caesar's final assessment. I've barely stepped into the enclosure corridor when the steel guillotine door slams down behind me. My wife's laughter crackles over the loudspeaker. "Everyone, we're doing the ultimate challenge today! We're locking the so-called number-one animal trainer in the Lion King's enclosure and taking bets on whether he wets himself in ten minutes!" Caesar crouches low and rumbles a warning. I reach for my tranquilizer gun but stop cold. The liquid isn't the right color. In a phony sing-song voice, the veterinarian, Hugh Archer, says, "Lucian, I forgot to mention, I swapped your tranquilizer darts for pepper spray so you won't hurt Caesar by mistake. "You two are so close. Just win him over with love!" I look at Caesar, his eyes bloodshot from the stimulant, and it clicks. Hugh still resents that I stopped him from touching a tiger with his bare hands a few days ago. I tune out the trash blaring over the loudspeaker, pull a remote from my pocket, and hit the button. It's the master switch for the electric fence gates around every predator enclosure in the zoo. If I don't make it out, no one does.

On my fifteenth birthday, I begged my mom to teach me how to make a cream cake from scratch. We only had cream at home. No flour. So we went out to buy some. When we came back, we didn't walk into a birthday surprise. We walked in on my father pressing a strange she-wolf down onto the dining table. Cream was smeared all over her bare body. That night ended with my parents signing the Mating Dissolution Agreement. From that day on, cake became my nightmare, a taboo I could never touch. The night I mated with Alpha Kaelen of the Shadow Pack, amidst the pain and pleasure of his marking bite, I whispered in his ear. "Honey, if you ever want to end our mating, just bring me a cake." He frowned, his eyes burning with possessiveness, and kissed the words away. "Don't talk nonsense, Seraphina. You are my fated mate. How could I ever let you go?" Later, on his birthday, his intern secretary Elena ordered a three-tier luxury cake. Kaelen went into a rage, throwing both the cake and the intern out the front door. Back then, I was moved, even telling him not to be so harsh on a low-ranking wolf for my sake. But six months later, Elena had been promoted to Kaelen's personal assistant. On my birthday, she walked into my laboratory, swinging her hips, holding a burnt, homemade cake. I called Kaelen, asking him to remove the provocative item. On the other end of the line,his tone was casual. "Elena put her heart into making that for you. It would be cruel to throw it away. Be a good girl, don't be so sensitive. Have the grace of a Luna." The phone slipped from my hand. It turned out my mother wasn't wrong. Cake really is best served with a side of rejection papers.