#and like she annoys me every time we talk i never had this before i

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Four

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

Chapter Words: 1,192

(I have the urge for every Marvel fanfic I write to have a seperate timeline where nothing bad happens, and everyone is happy)

I leave the lab and make my way back to the kitchen, it was close to lunch now, the kitchen was fuller than it was before, Bucky and Steve were still in here. But now Wanda, Vision, Sam, Nat and Peter were in here. I grinned when I sat Nat, I walked over to her, sitting next to her at the dining table, resting my head on her shoulder. 

"How did telling Tony go?" Steve asks first. 

"They were happy for me, Bucks, did you tell anyone in here?" I ask, feeling a little tired, I saw everyone look at me confused, their eyes darting between Bucky and myself. Bucky shakes his head, his eyes no leaving mine. 

"No doll, I didn't tell anyone, I figured I'd let you handle that" 

"Thanks" I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. I watch as Bucky shoots me a glare. 

"Guys, I'm pregnant and it's Bucky's" I say quickly, I watch Nat's reaction, she looks at me confused, a little hurt in her eyes, probably that I had kept her in the dark about all of this. A collective gasp travels through the room, I stay quiet watching everyone's reaction with a smirk on my lips. After a few moments of stunned silence, Wanda was the first to speak. 

"Congratulations" She grins widely at me. 

"Are you happy?" Nat asks, I look at her, and nod. I give her a sad, sorry look until she hugs me. "Congrats girlie" 

I smile softly as she hugs me, knowing I was off the hook. 

"Wait, you and Bucky...how did that happen?" Peter asks, I pull away from the hug and look at him with a sly grin. 

"Aw Petey, have you not been given the talk yet?" I ask, playfully, I watch as Peter blushes. 

"Hey! I know how babies are made! I just...never thought you and Bucky..I mean, the two of you don't even like each other" He rambles, his voice stuttery. I giggle, my body feeling a little tired, but I then tell everyone the same story we told Steve, they listened intently, there were a few chuckles and looks of disbelief as I describe mine and Bucky's initial arguments, our secret encounters and finally finding out we were pregnant. 

"Cool, is that everyone filled in?" I ask. There's a chorus of nods and murmurs of affirmation. 

"Good, fuck I want coffee" I say as nearly everyone in the room had a mug in front of them, I could smell the coffee, and it smelled amazing. It smelt warm and smooth, it made my stomach growl in need. 

"Oh doll, you'll survive without caffeine for a few months" Bucky smirks at me. I roll my eyes shooting a glare towards him. 

"Says you, I think you shouldn't drink caffeine because I can't" I say, standing up walking to where he was standing. I watched as Bucky looked up at me from his seat, his eyes rolling at me. 

"Oh that's real fair doll, punish me just because you can't have caffeine" 

"I'm being punished for having sex with you" I whine. I watch as Bucky's eyes widen, surprised at my blunt comment, he was through and through a man of his time, talking about sex made him uncomfortable, I loved it. I heard Steve cough slightly. Luckily Nat was smirking, as was I. 

"You really don't hold back, do you doll?" Bucky asks quietly. 

"Whatever, I'm going for a nap" I say, looking at Bucky suggestively. 

"Alright doll, go get some rest" He answers me, smiling softly at me. 

"You not coming?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows at him. His eyes widen slightly, his cheeks slightly flushing, he shoots me a warning glare, well aware of the fact that everyone was watching us. 

"No doll, you go rest" 

"Bucky, I was hinting if you wanted to have sex" I say annoyed, we hadn't slept together since a week before finding out I was pregnant, I needed it. His eyes widen even more, if that were possible. Shock crosses his face for a moment before he remains his composure, trying to regain his usual stoicism. He clears his throat and looks at me, a mixture of surprise and irritation. 

"Doll, not in front of everyone! Seriously have some tact" He whispers, his voice stern as he glares at me. I roll my eyes and huff.

"Ugh, whatever Barnes" I snap and storm out of the room. I walked through the compound annoyed, a little bit annoyed at Bucky, but mostly I couldn't understand why I was so angry, I blamed it on the pregnancy, I'd have to get some books, try to understand it more. 

Once I reached my room, I huffed and laid on my bed, feeling less annoyed as my head hit the pillow. A few minutes passed and I heard a little knock on my door. 

"Doll? Can I come in?" Bucky's voice traveled through the door. 

"No, piss off" I answer. 

"Come on doll, I wanna talk" He speaks again, I don't answer, he doesn't speak for a few moments, and adds in a quieter tone "Please?"

"Ugh fine" I groan, not moving from my position. I watch as my bedroom door opens, he stalks in, and walks in, moving to sit on the edge of my bed, he looks at me still slightly annoyed. 

"Doll...you can't just..say things like that in front of everyone" He says, I felt like I was being told off, it pissed me off more. 

"I didn't, that's why I was hinting" I smirked. I watched as his face show more annoyance, he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to maintain his composure. 

"You know what I mean, and so did everyone else!" Bucky answers. 

"It's not exactly a secret we had sex Bucks" I say, laughing quietly. Bucky groans, he knows I'm right, he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. 

"I know doll, but there's a difference between people knowing we've slept together and you practically announcing it to everyone in the room" He explains, his cheeks flushed. 

"Fuck..fine, I won't ask if you want to have sex anymore" I snapped. I watch as he rolls his eyes, I could sense a hint of amusement in his eyes along with the annoyance. 

"I didn't say that doll, just don't be so...blatant and vulgar in front of everyone?" He suggests, I roll my eyes and snuggle further into my bed. 

"Whatever Barnes, let me nap" 

He shakes his head slightly, a slight smirk on his lips. 

"Alright doll, you sleep" 

"Could join me... if you want" I say quietly. 

"Might as well" He whispers, I grin and lift the duvet allowing him to crawl into the bed, he wraps his arm around me, pulling me in close, I fit perfectly against his body, his arm brushes against my nipples as he gets comfortable. 

"Ooo, careful of my boobs, they're sensitive" I mumble, snuggling into him. 

"I'll be careful" He chuckles, his voice a low rumble against my skin, I watch as his eyes glance down to my chest, a hint of a smirk on his lips. 

(I do not consent my works to be posted anywhere else, by anyone other than myself)

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer @a-small-blue-nebula

[bumblesimagines]

i'm going to scream.

did you two have a nice chat?

are we really doing this now?

Kiara Carrera

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: None!

Tell a friend to tell a friend... I'm backkkkkk

"I'm going to scream."

Sarah huffed out a chuckle, brown eyes peeking over the magazine in hand to eye her friend as Kiara made her way over to the counter. The scowl on her face spoke volumes and Sarah only had to peer at the dock to locate the source of Kiara's irritation. There, standing on the dock by one of the boats, stood (Y/N) and a vaguely familiar girl. Everything about the girl's body language screamed flirtatious but (Y/N) either remained oblivious or ignored it in favor of continuing the conversation. 

"You know her?" Sarah asked, leaning back in her chair and resting the magazine on her chest to focus her full attention on Kiara as the brunette aggressively tidied up the area around their register. Kiara gave a hearty scoff, her eyes rolling so hard Sarah wondered if it hurt before she rounded the counter to stand beside her. 

"Of course, I do." Kiara groaned. "Back when (Y/N) and I still worked together, she'd come in almost every day just to talk to him. Mom thought it was so cute and romantic but it was just a pain in the ass! And now she's popping over here too? She doesn't even fish! Nobody in her family fishes! Her dad owns a convenience store!" 

Sarah snorted and quickly clamped her teeth into her lip to avoid the snickers from flowing out. Kiara shook her head, her brows tightly knitted and her lips pulled taut into a frown. It'd been amusing for the pogues (borderline became entertainment at one point) to watch the fierce rivalry between Kiara and (Y/N) take an abrupt turn into obvious feelings. Sarah lost count of the number of times she teased Kiara over it, cooing in her ear until Kiara swatted at her with burning cheeks while JJ and John B egged (Y/N) on. It'd only taken a devious plan from Cleo to finally push Kiara into confessing. 

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath new weight, drawing their attention onto (Y/N) as he stepped into their little shop, his smile immediately greeting them only to falter when he took in his girlfriend's expression. Sarah rose from her chair, carefully and slowly closing the magazine as Kiara folded her arms over her chest and arched a challenging brow.

"Did you two have a nice chat?" Straight to the point with a sharp tone, typical Kie. Kiara had never been one to sugarcoat things, much less beat around the bush when something bothered her. It'd been one of the many traits they all loved about her. "It's crazy how she came in here asking about so much and then left with- how much exactly, Sarah?" 

"Uh," Sarah cleared her throat and lifted her chin. "Nothing."

"Yeah, nothing."

(Y/N) stared at them, the confusion on his face melting away into a bemused quirk of his lips. "Are we really doing this now? Like, right now, in front of Sarah and whoever else stops by?" His brows lifted, only offering a soft scoff when Kiara jutted her hip out and placed her hand over it. "You're unbelievable, Kiara. Don't you ever get tired of being annoying?"

"Don't you ever get tired of pissing me off?"

"It's part of my charm, babe. It's why you love me." 

In an instant, all the fiery emotions that accumulated vanished, leaving behind a flustered smile and a half-hearted eye-roll. "Yeah, well," She cleared her throat. "You can use that charm and help me tend to the register where I can keep an eye on you."

Quirking a brow, Sarah glanced between the two of them. "You guys have a weird way of flirting."

[simpxmachina]

NEW BOT

╰┈➤ wlw red panda , botmaker

🔪 + 🫀 = ☆ bloodthirsty ☆

cai

🎬 aubrey plaza - ‘NEPO-WIFE ?’

The evening was suffocatingly familiar. Aubrey stood in the hotel’s extravagant hallway, gazing out at the city skyline. The lights below twinkled like far-off stars, and yet all she could feel was the thrum of anxiety under her skin. Another event, another evening of being paraded out for the world to see, her every move scrutinized. And in that moment, she wished she could just disappear into the air—slip through the cracks of the red carpet and vanish.

But she couldn’t. Not with all the cameras, not with the eyes that followed her every movement. It didn’t help that tonight, she wasn’t standing alone.

"Hey," came your voice from behind her, soft and steady. You had that way of cutting through her fog of irritation, your presence like an anchor in a storm of flashing lights. Aubrey didn’t have to turn around to know you were standing there—she could feel you, your warmth, your steady energy. You, with your elegant, composed presence, the world at your fingertips, and the family legacy that made it all so easy for you.

But she wasn’t here to complain. Not yet. She would save that for later.

When she finally turned to face you, she caught the glint of your eyes—the same eyes that could pierce through her sarcastic veneer. You were wearing that calm, collected look, the one you always wore at these events. You were practically glowing in your tailored dress, a contrast to Aubrey’s unpolished and understated outfit that clung to her awkwardly, as always.

"Is it too late to back out?" Aubrey asked, deadpan, one eyebrow raised. She was never one to mince words. "I mean, who needs another ‘self-made girl’ on a red carpet? I’m pretty sure we’ve got enough of those already."

You laughed—your genuine laugh that Aubrey could always pick out from the crowd, the one that made her feel like maybe there was still something good left in this charade.

"Trust me, I’ve been trying to get you to ditch this thing for days," you said, stepping toward her, your fingers brushing the fabric of her gown. "But you know how it is. You’ve got to put on the show. Keep up appearances."

Aubrey’s lips twisted into a half-smirk. "Appearances. Yeah, that’s my specialty."

There was a brief moment of silence before you spoke again, a little softer this time. "You know they’re all watching us, right?"

Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I’m aware," she muttered. "I’m sure they’ll make some snide comment about how different we are—how we don’t belong together. Maybe I should just wave a flag that says ‘Look, we’re the most unlikely pair ever.’ That’ll be fun."

You reached up, placing a hand on her cheek, your touch gentle. "You know they’ll say whatever they want. But they don’t know us. We don’t need them to."

She sighed heavily, leaning into your touch for a moment, but quickly pulled away, as though she couldn’t allow herself to be too soft. "I know, I know," she muttered, turning her gaze back to the skyline. "But it’s just... annoying, you know? The way they only focus on how different we are. They can’t look at us and see anything but this weird mismatch of ‘privilege’ and ‘self-made,’ and they think that’s the whole story. It’s exhausting."

You smiled, as you always did, like you could sense the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. "Who cares what they think? You’re you, and I’m me, and that’s why I love you."

Aubrey turned her head slowly, looking at you with a small, almost vulnerable smile. "Yeah, well, sometimes I wonder if you know what you're getting into with me."

"You’re lucky I’m a glutton for punishment," you teased, tilting your head. "But honestly, I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care if they think we’re mismatched. I care that I’m with you, that I chose you. That’s what matters."

Aubrey smiled, a little less dry, a little less sarcastic. "Yeah, I guess that’s the most important thing. But it still bothers me when they talk about us like we’re some kind of circus act. You, with your big family legacy and perfect smile. And me... with my weird sense of humor and dry sarcasm. I mean, who wouldn’t wonder how that works?"

"You’re different, Aubrey," you said, taking her hand and squeezing it firmly. "And that’s what makes you perfect. We’re not a circus act. We’re just... us. And that’s all that matters."

---

The red carpet was as predictably absurd as it always was. The sea of flashing lights, the intrusive questions, the endless waves of publicists and photographers—all of it felt like a slow, grinding march. But this time, Aubrey tried to drown it out, to focus on you. Your presence beside her was a lifeline, even when the journalists turned their attention toward her.

"So, Aubrey," a reporter called, leaning in with a microphone in hand. "You've made a name for yourself as a very... unique presence in Hollywood. And of course, you're married to y/n, who comes from such a well-known family. Do you think that your relationship has ever put you under a different kind of microscope? The kind that focuses on your differences?"

Aubrey’s lips twitched upward in that signature, deadpan way. She glanced at you, noticing the way you stood a little straighter, like you were preparing to shield her. "Oh, sure," she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I’m sure they’ll get all worked up about how I’m not the perfect ‘nepo wife’ they expected. I’m so out of my depth here."

The journalist didn’t pick up on her sarcasm, as usual. "But seriously, Aubrey, do you ever feel the pressure of being married to someone with such a powerful legacy? Do the comparisons ever get to you?"

Aubrey’s expression remained unchanged, though there was a brief flicker of something—irritation, maybe—behind her eyes. She was so used to these questions, so tired of them. And yet, she played the game with the kind of dry humor that had earned her a loyal fanbase.

"Look," Aubrey said, turning toward the reporter with a wry smile. "I didn’t marry y/n for the family name. If I wanted to marry into money and power, I would’ve chosen a billionaire. But here we are, still going strong, and that’s all that matters."

You laughed beside her, but the smile didn’t quite reach Aubrey’s eyes. You could see it—the slight tightening of her jaw, the way she didn’t let herself truly relax, even in the midst of a playful comment. Aubrey Plaza might pretend she didn’t care about the opinions of others, but you both knew the truth.

In public, she would never admit it. But in the quiet of their private moments, away from the cameras, she would sigh, lean against the wall, and mutter, "I hate that they keep bringing it up. They don't get it. We’re not a 'mismatch.' We're just... us."

You always knew what to say, though. You would wrap your arms around her, gently kissing the top of her head. "I get it. And I love you for it."

---

Later that night, when the flashes finally stopped and the event was over, the two of you retreated back to your hotel room. The exhaustion of the evening hung heavily in the air. Aubrey didn’t even bother to take off her gown right away. She collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, her fingers twitching idly by her side.

"Did you hear what they said about us today?" she asked, her voice flat. "The ‘privilege’ and ‘hard work’ narrative... I swear, it’s like they don’t care about anything real. It’s all just surface-level crap."

You climbed onto the bed beside her, leaning on your elbow to look at her. "Aubrey, I’m not going anywhere. I chose you, and nothing anyone says changes that."

Aubrey’s lips twisted in that familiar, dry smile, but there was something softer in it now. "Yeah, I know. I just wish people would stop treating us like we're part of some goddamn zoo."

"Who cares about them? You’re my world, Aubrey. No one else matters."

In that moment, with the lights of the city still flickering outside and the world far, far away, Aubrey let out a long sigh, finally relaxing into the comfort of your arms.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I guess you’re right. I just wish it didn’t make me feel so... weird."

And for the first time that night, Aubrey allowed herself to drift into the quiet safety of your love, away from the spotlight and the noise, knowing that no matter how many cameras flashed or how many critical voices rose, she could always count on you to be her anchor, her support. In your arms, there was no judgment, no expectations—just the simple, steady beat of two hearts who had found their rhythm amidst the chaos.

But it wasn't over, it never was.

Long days—press tours, meetings, photoshoots. The usual whirlwind that came with being in the spotlight. You knew the routine by now, but today it felt different. Aubrey was quieter than usual, her sarcasm less biting, her usual dry humor subdued. You noticed it immediately, and it gnawed at you, a feeling in your gut that wouldn’t settle.

You and Aubrey had built something together over the past four years—something that others could never quite understand. She had earned every bit of her career, every inch of respect, while you, despite your best efforts to separate yourself from your family’s influence, were always seen as the “privileged one.” The “nepo baby,” they called you. And the contrast between you two—her rawness, her authenticity, her self-made success; and your polished, well-maintained image, always tethered to your powerful family—was something people always seemed to focus on.

You had tried to ignore it, at least outwardly. But tonight, in the dimly lit apartment you shared with Aubrey, it couldn’t be ignored. She looked tired, not just from the long day, but from something deeper. Something heavier.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked gently, noticing her staring blankly at her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen without purpose.

Aubrey looked up, her sharp gaze meeting yours, but her expression was unreadable. The easy sarcasm was gone. "What’s there to talk about?" she muttered, dropping the phone on the couch. "Just another day of pretending everything’s fine."

You swallowed, biting back the urge to remind her that she was the one who always said she didn’t care about what people thought. You’d spent enough time in the public eye yourself to know that there was always a kernel of truth behind those words. And despite what she projected, Aubrey did care. She cared about the scrutiny, the constant comparisons, the way her career had somehow become secondary in the public eye.

You shifted closer to her on the couch, careful not to invade her space but unwilling to let her retreat into herself entirely. "It’s not like you to be this quiet," you said softly, trying to keep the mood light. "Not even a single snarky comment about how I burned dinner last night?"

Aubrey’s lips twitched in what could have been a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "It’s not about dinner. It’s about this... circus. All of it."

She gestured vaguely toward her phone, but you knew what she meant. The press tour. The interviews. The countless articles dissecting every detail of your marriage. And the most recent headline that had likely set her off: "Aubrey Plaza, the Wife of Hollywood's Golden Girl."

It wasn’t the first time her name had been reduced to a footnote, a descriptor attached to yours. But it never got easier for her.

"I’ve worked my ass off for years," Aubrey said, her voice low and steady, but there was an edge to it, a rawness that made you hold your breath. "I’ve done indie films no one thought would succeed. I’ve fought for roles, dealt with rejection after rejection, clawed my way into this industry. And now, suddenly, I’m not Aubrey Plaza anymore. I’m your wife. Like that’s all I am."

Her words hung in the air like a weight, and you didn’t know how to respond. Because the truth was, you had seen it happening too. The way her accomplishments were overshadowed, the way interviews that were supposed to be about her projects turned into questions about your relationship. You hated it as much as she did, but you hadn’t known how deeply it had affected her. Until now.

"You’re not just my wife," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "You’re so much more than that. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to talk about you."

Aubrey scoffed, but there was no real humor in it. "Tell that to the reporters who only want to ask me what it’s like being married to you. Or the producers who suddenly think I’m only relevant because of your last name. It’s like everything I’ve worked for means nothing now."

You reached for her hand, but she pulled away, standing up and pacing the room. "Do you know how humiliating it is to have people act like I’ve coasted into success because of you? Like I didn’t do anything before we got together? I love you, but sometimes... sometimes it feels like I’m losing myself in this."

Her honesty cut you to the core, but you couldn’t blame her. How could you? She wasn’t wrong. And yet, hearing her say it out loud felt like a blow you hadn’t been prepared for.

"I didn’t ask for this either," you said, standing up to face her. "I didn’t ask to be born into this family or to have every move I make scrutinized. And I sure as hell didn’t ask for my relationship with you to be turned into some kind of spectacle."

Aubrey stopped pacing, her arms dropping to her sides as she looked at you, her eyes softening just slightly. "I know you didn’t," she said quietly. "And I’m not blaming you. I just... I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. It’s like no matter what I do, I can’t escape it."

The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind that threatened to break you apart. It was the kind that made you lean in, made you fight harder to understand each other. You stepped closer to her, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to gently touch her arm.

"You’ve always been more than enough," you said softly. "Before we were together, before anyone even knew my name, you were already a force to be reckoned with. That hasn’t changed, Aubrey. And it never will."

She sighed, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she let you pull her into a hug. She rested her head against your shoulder, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fade. But you knew it wasn’t gone. Not completely.

"I just wish people could see me for who I am," she murmured, her voice muffled against your skin. "Not just as some extension of you."

You tightened your arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "They will," you promised. "We’ll make them see. Together."

And in that moment, as the two of you stood there in the quiet of your apartment, you knew that no matter how many headlines tried to define your relationship, no matter how many whispers tried to reduce Aubrey to just your wife, the truth of who she was—and who you were together—was something no one could take away.

But the internet never thinks like that.

The internet had turned into a battlefield again, and you were the primary casualty. Pictures of you and Aubrey walking out of a luxury boutique were plastered across every social media platform, accompanied by wild, baseless assumptions.

One particular photo had gone viral: you standing still, clearly mid-conversation, while Aubrey carried two bags in her hands. The truth was that you’d twisted your ankle on the way out and had stopped to catch your breath while Aubrey, ever practical, had grabbed your things to keep the line moving. But the internet didn’t want the truth. It wanted a story.

There were three camps now. The first claimed that Aubrey Plaza deserved better than a spoiled “nepo baby” who made her carry shopping bags like a servant. The second argued you deserved better, painting Aubrey as a gold-digger exploiting your wealth. The third defended your relationship, posting clips and interviews to show how much love you shared.

The third group was small.

And no matter how many times you tried to ignore it, the hate had crawled under your skin, festering in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

By the time you walked into the convention hall for a Q&A about your new series, you were already simmering beneath the surface. You’d perfected the art of smiling through discomfort, of keeping your golden-girl persona intact, but today felt harder than usual.

The panel started smoothly enough. The moderator asked you about your role, the challenges you faced during filming, and your experience working with the cast. You answered every question thoughtfully, earning laughs and applause from the audience.

Then came the inevitable question.

“So,” the interviewer began, leaning forward with a too-familiar smirk, “do you think your family name helped you land this role?”

The room went quiet for a moment. You didn’t flinch; you’d been asked this question a dozen times before.

You smiled politely, your voice steady. “I’d like to think that my work is enough to prove that I made it on my own, but I’m not blind to the fact that my name carries a lot of weight. I can’t deny my privilege. That being said, I hope to continue earning roles because of my talent, not my last name.”

The audience murmured, a mix of admiration and skepticism. You’d expected as much.

But then a microphone made its way to a member of the audience, a man who seemed far too eager to speak. His tone was mocking, his body language confrontational.

“Speaking of privilege,” he began, a smirk curling his lips, “do you think your wife is what people are calling her now? You know—a ‘nepo-trophy-wife’? Seems like she’s benefitting a lot from being with you.”

The words hit you like a slap, and the audience gasped collectively. The interviewer looked uncomfortable, clearly unsure whether to intervene.

You felt your chest tighten, the simmering anger from earlier now boiling over. You leaned forward, gripping the microphone tightly.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you asked, your voice deceptively calm.

The man, emboldened by the attention, shrugged. “I mean, she’s clearly riding your coattails. It’s not like anyone was talking about her before you two got together.”

A hush fell over the room. The interviewer looked like they wanted to sink into the floor, but you didn’t give them the chance to redirect.

“Aubrey Plaza,” you said, your tone icy but controlled, “has been in this industry far longer than I have. She’s been in critically acclaimed films and shows—some of which you’ve probably seen, considering you know her name well enough to make an opinion about her.”

The man started to interrupt, but you cut him off.

“And let’s be very clear,” you continued, your voice rising slightly, “if anyone in this relationship is riding coattails, it’s me. I’m the one who should be called a ‘nepo-trophy-wife.’ Aubrey has worked her ass off for everything she has. She’s an incredible actress, and the fact that you think you have the right to reduce her career to her relationship with me says more about your ignorance than it does about her.”

The audience broke into applause, but you barely heard it. You handed the microphone back to the moderator, sitting stiffly as the panel moved on.

---

When you got home that evening, your stomach was still in knots. You didn’t regret defending Aubrey—not for a second—but you knew the fallout was inevitable. You could already hear the headlines: Golden Girl Goes Off! or Y/n Shows Spoiled, Bratty Side!

You dropped your bag on the kitchen counter and sighed, rubbing your temples. Aubrey’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Quite the show you put on,” she said, stepping out from the living room with her phone in hand. She was smirking, but her eyes held something softer, something warmer.

You froze. “You saw it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You kidding? It’s all over the internet. ‘Golden Girl Defends Wife with Fiery Speech.’ You’re trending.”

You groaned, sinking onto the couch. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Aubrey sat beside you, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Hey,” she said, nudging your shoulder, “you were amazing.”

You turned to look at her, surprised. “Really? Because I feel like I just painted a target on both of our backs.”

Aubrey shook her head, her dark eyes shining. “Let them talk. You know what I care about? That my wife—the golden girl, the internet’s sweetheart—stood up for me. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. And it was... really hot, actually.”

You laughed despite yourself, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit. “Hot, huh?”

“Extremely,” she said, leaning closer. “There’s nothing more attractive than you telling the world to screw off because you love me.”

You felt your cheeks flush, and before you could respond, Aubrey kissed you. It wasn’t a soft, sweet kiss—it was firm, passionate, full of everything she couldn’t put into words.

When she pulled back, she was grinning, her usual dry humor creeping back into her tone. “So, do I need to start calling you my publicist now? Or are you sticking with ‘wife’?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning into her. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” she teased, wrapping an arm around you.

The internet could say whatever it wanted. In this moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way Aubrey looked at you—as if you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

this might be my favorite, just fed my delulu self <3

[bowsnkisses]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

matt sturniolo x ice skater!fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ You and Matt have a love-hate relationship... too bad that you have to see each other almost every day, since you are his little sister's coach.

warning: a little angst(?), matt is a little asshole, bestfriends to enemies to lovers trope.

a/n: this was really quick but i hope you like it ;) i think im gonna make this a series idk chat; english its not my first language!!! sorry for the mistakes.

Matt parked the car and turned off the radio, he sighed and looked in the rearview mirror where his little sister, Rosie, had fallen asleep on the way to her ice skating practice. Her head was resting on her jacket, she made a 'pillow' by wrapped the jacket between the door and her shoulder. Matt couldn't help but smile a little.

She started ice skating a few months ago and was amazed. She was always very excited to get to her practices and whenever they finished she would get sad. And the reason for that, was you.

Rosie loved spending time with you and always paying attention to you with her big, blue and curious eyes. And she always repeated how pretty you were to his parents and brothers.

Matt, specifically, knew who you were for many years. You were best friends in elementary school until mid-high school, and you guys stopped talking because he became 'too popular' to be spending time with you, his words. Then a year later, the YouTube channel with his brothers, Chris and Nick, blew up and none of you knew about each other until Rosie, for her 10th birthday, begged her parents to sign her up for Ice Skating classes.

And here you were, seeing each other every day...

Matt always treating you dry and never avoiding rolling his eyes every time you spoke. And you, just wanting to punch him in the face and never see him again.

While Matt was a total asshole with you. Rosie was the total opposite.

"Rosie... bub, we are here." Matt moved her knee gently to wake her up.

"mmhm" She muttered opening her eyes and then rubbing them. Matt got out of the car and walked to her door to get her bag and help her get out of the car.

Once that was done, and Rosie couldn't contain her excitement to seeing you. Running and jumping while Matt almost fell with the pink bag.

When you guys enter to the rink, the little girl screamed with joy when she saw you. Matt made a face and you did too, but that was gone when she hugged your legs.

"Alright alright, someone its excited" You said while laughing at the little girl excitement.

—

Two hours had already passed and Matt was already getting tired of listening to you repeat the same thing over and over again. Once you did for final the class, Matt almost shouted hallelujah to the ceiling. He was getting tired.

And so were you, his annoying and exaggerated sighs for you to hear, every time you looked at him and he rolled his eyes... making sure you knew he was pissed. You couldn't give a big fuck, but it was the same in all the classes he brought Rosie.

And you were getting tired of his attitude.

When the girls went to one side of the blichers to untie their shoes. You took the opportunity to go straight to Matt.

When he saw you approaching him, he couldn't help but smirk a little.

"If this is too boring for you, I think is better for you to stop bringing Rosie. You are really distracting." You said while crossing your arma on your chest.

"Maybe you shouldn't be looking at me all the time and start paying more attention to your students. Some of them really need to perfect some skills" He said with a cocky smirk that almost made you throw up.

Before you could respond, Rosie approached with her shoes in her hand. Basically screaming with her eyes without saying anything to one of you guys to help her change her shows.

"I'll do it" Murmured to kneel and help his little sister.

You just roll your eyes in annoyed without Rosie to see.

Hoping that tomorrow it would be her parents who brought Rosie and not Matt.

sorry if this a completely shit.

btw the filter of the photos i got it from this beauty @sirenedeslily 🫶🏼

let me know if you want more parts :P or more introductions of the characters <3

₊˚ପ⊹ © 𝑏𝑜𝑤𝑠𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠; all rights reserved. do not translate my work without my permission.

[ladymortimer]

Anyway I told my classmate everything that's bothering me with her in one long message and I didn't feel anything, she also wrote a long reply back but tbh I don't feel like putting any more time and effort into this so called friendship

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

i think i've finally come to understand why i'm so bad at communicating with friends 👍 at one point or another i've thought i was in love with every single person i've ever been friends with (for the most part, at least) because i don't expect other people to like me. OBVIOUSLY this is not true but platonic feelings are not dissimilar to romantic ones (baseline they're the same: you want to love and be loved by someone) but i always end up realizing that i'm not in love with them, just that they matter to me very much and i wouldn't know what do to w/o their presence in my life. BUT this brings me to facet number 2 of my awful communication skills: i hate it when things Get Real. i find myself retreating any time it seems like Something Could Change in my day-to-day life due to them being around and "forcing" the change. i run away from talking to one of my only irl friends on almost a daily basis bc i dread the idea of having to do anything she might want me to do. i think, at the end of the day, my problem might just be that i don't want to change... ANYWAYS

[pilotstreets]

god. not to be sad online. but im sad online

[cruel-summerxy]

I’ve been going to intern at a dentist as a DA all week. Today was the longest day I was in there and as soon as I got out I got bad news. The crazy part is that my sisters had to let me know before my parents bc they know I break down crying and my parents always feel bad for me.

[ssmokyquartz]

there's someone in my new job I'm sure doesn't like me but I have no idea why

[euthymiya]

“Have you ever wondered where we’ll get married?”

Your question comes out of nowhere—not much catches Sukuna off guard, but this question manages to make him pause. His eyes don’t leave the screen of his phone, thumb swiping along as he sits beside you. You drag a finger along his tattooed arm, grinning as he clicks his teeth.

“Who said I want to marry you?” He grunts.

You smile wider. It’s a knowing, amused little thing that stretches over the contours of your face like you know better. (You do. Sukuna is better at lying than telling the truth, but you’re even better at picking apart every little fib for the honesty he doesn’t want you to know. You wonder if he realizes that.)

“Who else would you marry?” You snort, “that girl from the convenience store? She has the hots for you, y’know.”

You nudge him with your shoulder, biting back a laugh when his lips curl into an almost irritated sneer as he scoffs. “She’s ugly.”

“Harsh,” you pretend to wince in sympathy, “then the waitress at that cafe? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her eye your tattoos.”

“Too fuckin’ whiny. Her voice makes my eardrums bleed.”

You can count on one hand the number of people Sukuna tolerates—and yes, it’s important to note that he tolerates people. He doesn’t really like anyone. He likes you, though. You’re a little confident about that because when your fingers slip under his shirt to glide against his bare chest, he lets you. He leans into it, too.

It’s because he likes you.

“Oh!” You gasp, snapping your finger like you’ve just thought of the perfect idea, “that girl from the bakery? She gives you free stuff all the time. I love it when I get to eat free bread, don’t you?”

“No. She’s a pushover. It’s pathetic.”

“We’ll never get you a wife at this rate,” you sigh dramatically, shaking your head. You look almost—almost—saddened by the idea. And then you perk up, “what about we search for a husband for me, instead? How about that guy from—”

“What the fuck are you on about?” He turns his head to glare at you. He’s annoyed—you can tell because his eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched. You can also tell because his heart is beating under your hand. One thump after the other. Faster, faster.

“Well I have to find someone if you won’t do it,” you pout. “I want a wedding in Okinawa. Know any guys who don’t mind getting married in Okinawa?”

“No,” he growls. His heart is still beating. Faster, faster.

“Then I’m doomed,” you collapse against the couch, theatrically draping an arm over your face as you woefully add, “my big fat Okinawa wedding dreams broken. What ever—”

“Enough,” he hisses. He grabs your hand, inspects the fingers for a moment before casually tossing it back onto your lap as he mumbles, “you can have your stupid wedding if it shuts you up. And don’t talk to that guy ever again.”

And then he’s back to scrolling through his phone, thumb gliding across the screen as you curl into his side with a satisfied grin. Sukuna doesn’t like anyone. He could make a list of all the reasons why.

It all boils down to the fact that none of them are you.

“Perfect,” you say excitedly, “we’ll get married in Okinawa, then. Here are the rings I had in mind—pay attention, okay?”

sometimes you just have to gaslight your feral bf into marriage, you know?

[titaswrld]

deadpool!

….as your boyfriend.

description: deadpool as your boyfriend!

pairing: deadpool x you!

contains: 18+, mentions of sex!

|an: just saw deadpool & wolverine.. couldn’t help myself.

- awful with emotions but always finds a way to make up for things whether through humor or sex.

- speaking of humor you’re never not laughing with him, or bickering, or fucking

- you’re the only person he can actually feel vulnerable and comfortable with, he cherishes that and he loves you so much for that.

- you’re his person, he would genuinely kill for you if it meant he would lose someone so important in his life.

- if someone makes you sad, mad or uncomfortable ooo…not his babygirl.

- he usually doesn’t keep people or friends in his loop often, they could find him annoying or over the top but not you.

- you love absolutely everything about him, his outlandish humor, his extroverted personality, his big ol’ mouth. you think it’s so hot.

- so hot when he’s mean to you so hot when he’s soft with you

- you literally bicker like two teenage girls all the time and he always somehow clocks your tea it’s ridiculous but you also find it impressive that he always has something to say that you cannot come back from😭

- god you need to pray that no man ever even has the thought of coming on to you… he’ll experience some banter with your boyfriend before it’s lights out.

- not only are you his but he’s yours! he’s super loyal and if he can’t get someone to back off , you sure will!

- you’re always having fun with him date nights are some of the best times of your life, he always finds a way to entertain you no matter what you’re doing.

- always gotta hand somewhere, your ass, a singular cheek, a titty, somewhere. how could you expect him not to! you’re all his.

- you literally have him wrapped around your finger, he’d do absolutely anything for you.

- also always bullying you he is so straightforward😭

“hon that has got to be the ugliest shirt i’ve ever seen on you”

“wade-“

“i know you got better in that closet that i snoop through and try on all your clothes when you aren’t home now go!”

- he’s so tall so if you’re short oh wow…you’re never catching a break

“soooo how’s the weather down there.” wade said, placing his elbow on the crown of your head.

“prick…”

…

“yeah that’s enough of that dirty mouth!” your boyfriend had announced before bending down and wrapping an arm around your behind, throwing you over his shoulder and positioning his palm on your ass.

“god, wade put me down!” you’d laughed playfully hitting his back.

“don’t make me have to spank you!” he said, lighting pinching your ass.

- do not get an animal bc it will quickly become his center of attention and he will defend it over you.

“wade, we’re having my mom over please put it in the room”

“ugh…she’s so mean isn’t she sugar?” he’d said stroking your pet, followed by a “yes she is yes she is!” as the animal licked his face.

sigh.

- good lord we got a cuddle monster on our hands!

- absolutely adores any type of affection and practically begs you for it 24/7. he loves being little spoon specifically. also loves it when u scratch or message his back, bc that also gets him going..

- speaking of, you got this guy rock solid 24/7

“hungry for seconds?” he joked, hugging you from behind and pressing his hardened cock against your ass.

“we literally jus-“ you’d started just to be interrupted mid sentence.

“so! cmon baby throw a dog a bone.” he muttered, hand already gripping your inner thigh.

you’d sighed, god you can’t resist him.

- it doesn’t matter what you’re doing he finds anything you do hot i stg

- a M-U-N-C-H! for life, literally came in his pants from eating you out once! he loves making you feel good.

- a goofball during sex he cannot do shit seriously😭 he be talking you and your pussy thru it!

- again, if you’re petite god help you bc he is large.

- babe, you better match his freak because yall doing anything.

- trying a new thing every night multiple times bc that sex is never vanilla and that dick is never tired! at some point he’s just making positions up😭

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[sincerelyneo]

hiiii will you repost your old haechan frat boy fic 🫣

i'm not sure if this is the one you were talking about, but it's the only google doc i had of haechan in a college au.

all bark no bite | l.hc

❯ summary: Lee Haechan is the most annoying man you’ve ever encountered. But that doesn’t mean you don’t find him hot; and maybe that’s why he has you flat on his mattress one night at a random frat party.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: college!au, rivals, smut.

❯ words: 2.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, angst, hate sex, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up !), pet names, excessive use of the name ‘baby’ and ‘princess’, begging, dirty talk, reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan is very cocky, haechan 1000% has a crush on the reader.

Lee Haechan is an asshole. A condescending, irritating asshole who knows exactly how to get on your fucking nerves and—

“God — fucking — dammit—!”

— is currently the asshole pressing you against his mattress.

Truth be told, you don’t even know how you got here. You remember being shoved in a closet with him for Seven Minutes in Heaven at some random frat party his friends were throwing, but you for sure as hell remember absolutely refusing to kiss him.

“Why not?” He’d sneered, folding his arms. “You scared you’re gonna like it, Princess? Promise I’ll take real good care of you–"

"Oh, please,” you’d scoffed right back. “Let’s not pretend you know your way around a girl’s body, Hyuck. I doubt you could even find my clit–"

"I would obliterate your pussy if you’d let me, and you know it,” there was a glint in his eye as he looked you up and down, “And we both know you’d like it.”

You were so fired up that you hadn’t even noticed how close you’d gotten to each other; you could feel his breath on your lips, his chest against yours. So irritated by his cockiness, you hardly even registered what you said next until it was too late:

“You’re all bark no bite, Lee Haechan.”

For the last three years you’ve been at college, you and Haechan had both been walking on eggshells around each other. There’d always been tangible tension ever since you had shut down one of his rants in class and essentially destroyed him — and from there it’d been a competition to one-up one another. You hated him, he hated you… but doesn’t the line between hate and lust wear oh so thin when it’s someone as hot as him?

The answer is yes, evidently.

After the seven minutes we’re up, Haechan wastes no time dragging you out of the closet and to his bedroom, earning him a matter of gasps and ‘ooohhhs’ from the rest of the players.

Next thing you know, you’re lying on your stomach, hands pinned at the small of your back as he thrusts into you so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His sheets rub against your clit with every body-wrecking slap of his hips against you, your throat hoarse from screaming. And for a moment you’re really, really, really fucking sorry for even doubting his abilities so much — because God can he fuck.

But you’d never tell him that, you don’t need to. His ego is already massive, he’ll live without validation from you — or so you think.

A hand crowds underneath you, before seizing your neck and pulling you up. The shortness of breath makes you pant, pulsing around him instinctively and you hear him laugh in your ear.

Fucking asshole.

And as if he hears you, his fingers find your mouth — and you gag, because his fingers are fucking thick and he’s shoving them down your throat. And the worst part is you love it, your mouth swallowing them the minute they push past your lips like it was just instinct.

"Oh, baby,” he laughs breathlessly, “Next time you do that, make sure it’s on my dick."

"You fucking wish—” you grunt, because he’s laying into you real deep now, slow, languid thrusts that have you refraining from shuddering all over– “as if there’s going to be a next time, you dick."

"Oh?” his hips still.

Then, almost thoughtfully, they begin again. Slow and teasing and not nearly enough to have you writhing in pleasure. His pace is tortuous, and if he didn’t have your arms pinned behind you, you’d claw at his back to make him speed up.

“Really? You think one night of the best sex you’ll ever have is enough?"

"Please, your dick game isn’t that impressive,” you say flatly. “Just make me cum and get this over with.”

You feel the heat of his breath as he dips his head again, placing kisses on your jaw so gently that for a moment you’re taken aback. “Don’t get impatient now, baby. I told you I’d take care of you didn’t I? Just…” His hips still again– “I think I’d like you to ask for it.”

“Ask?” You scoff, incredulous.

He nibbles down on your ear, before brushing past it with his lips low enough to whisper, “You're right. I meant beg.”

“What, you get off on girls begging for your permission–?"

There’s a rough snap of his hips into you and you have to bite hard down on your lip to stop yourself from whimpering.

"Not just any girls,” he mutters, so quiet that you almost don’t hear. “Only you.”

You’re going to pretend that your heart doesn’t flip when he says that, partially because of how sick it is that that gets you off, and instead focus on what the fuck is going on.

Did Lee Haechan just admit he wants you to beg for him? The same man who’d made it his college mission to torment and tease you at every given opportunity wants you.

If you weren’t lying on your stomach and taking every thick inch of him you’d be running in shock horror. But you find the idea isn’t quite as horrifying as you’d imagined.

“… Maybe we can fit more than one round in tonight, but that’s all I can offer you,” you say after a moment. You can feel him freeze up behind you. “I’m a busy girl with exams, Hyuck, I don’t have time to be running around with strange men–”

“Strange men?” His laugh is really nice. Sweet and dorky — the opposite of the usual mischievous chuckling he did when he knew he had gotten under your skin — and you only manage a huff of your own laughter yourself before you’re caught off guard by his steadily increasing grinds. “And after those exams? Got any time for a strange man like me?"

“…I’d have to check my calendar.”

He hums, and you swear to God if he stops again you’ll take back everything. "But for now… What’s your calendar open to, baby? Three? Four rounds?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll get me to cum more than once,” you mumble, but you’re beginning to lose your breath as he picks up the pace once again. “I’ll warn you, though – I get loud after two.”

You don’t have to look back to know he’s sporting a smug as fuck grin. “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because I’m not stopping.”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you do that.”

Okay, so maybe the whole ‘waiting until after exams’ bit is getting to Haechan. He wouldn’t wait until your calendar cleared up, he couldn’t, his testosterone wouldn’t let him.

It’s been a whole three days since he got to fuck you; and God was it driving him insane.

You glance up at him now, unimpressed. You knew studying with him was a bad idea, but he’d been so insistent; and you had to admit, knowing he had made you cum four times made his presence all the more tolerable to hang out with.

“When I what? Do science homework?"

"No, no – I mean, yes. When you concentrate you get this small… crease between your brows…” He reaches forward – concentrating himself – tugging the plush of his bottom lip between his teeth as he reaches out to poke between your brows. “You look fucking sexy.”

“Alright, Casanova, hands to ourselves” you snort before you return to your reading.

The silence doesn’t last long, and the second he opens his mouth you swear you’re two moments away from taping his lips together.

“Lemme eat you out.”

“Wh– no!” Horrified, you peek around to see if anyone had heard him. But the library is virtually empty – it always is after 11 PM on a Friday.

And also, you’re both tucked away in a table at the back behind the History books that no-one ever takes out.

“You should be studying.”

“Don’t worry about me, I got this exam in the bag.”

You glare. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slumping in his seat again. “You’re my only competition, and, well…”

“Well, what?” You demand, setting your book down.

This was the usual dynamic you were familiar with when it came to Lee Haechan.

“You saying I’m not good enough competition, for you Hyuck? If my memory serves me correctly – and it definitely does – I beat you by 10% on our last exam.”

His own eyes narrow.

Oh, you just hit a nerve.

“Just for that,” he begins slowly, pushing his chair out, “I’m gonna suck your clit ‘til you go dizzy.”

“What part of no don’t you understand?”

But the promise is enticing and you part your legs anyway as he shimmies underneath the table.

“You’re such a fuckboy, I swear–”

“I am not!” He objects incredulously from beneath you. “I just like how you taste, baby.”

A fuckboy, you swear. But he’s got a way with words (and a way with his fingers, and a way with his tongue, and a way with his di—).

You feel your skirt being rucked up and your panties being pulled to the side – seconds later, his face ducks up from the table, grinning wolfishly.

“You’re kinda wet down here, baby. Are you sure you’re okay?” He teases.

“Shut up before I scream,” you grunt, folding your arms.

“Wouldn’t that be a dream?” He sighs. He retreats not two milliseconds after, though, and you hear him whistle lowly to himself. And then, so quiet you almost don’t catch it: “Fucking hell, baby.”

You make a promise that if he calls you baby once more you’re going to kick him because it makes your stomach flutter and your palms sweat — but then he licks a rough line up your pussy and you decide that maybe you’ll allow him to call you whatever he pleases.

Your head falls back as he does it again, and again, and again, as if he’s trying to clean up whatever mess you’d made in your panties. And normally you’d be irritated — wanting him to just move onto your clit already — but he genuinely sounds like he’s enjoying himself.

Quiet groans in his throat and passionate movements of his jaw, and his hands grasp your thighs so tightly you know there’ll be bruises. He smacks his lips wetly and you jolt, peeking out from behind the bookshelf to see if anyone had seen.

“Calm down,” He says, words muffled against you. “Nobody comes behind here on a Friday night. We’re safe.”

And as if to punctuate his point: a finger pulls back the hood of your clit, and true to his word, he sucks. Quickly, you shove your fist into your mouth and begin to gnaw on your knuckles, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you see stars.

“H-Hyuck,” you whimper, “Unless you want me to get us caught–"

"I know, I know,” he says, sighing. His face comes out from underneath the table again. “I’ll be good if you pull your top down.”

“W-what?” To be fair, you’re still delirious off pleasure because his thumb hasn’t stopped grinding against your clit. “Why?"

"So I can play with your tits,” he says easily, shrugging. “C'mon, Princess. Show me your boobs.”

You stare at him for a moment, disbelief written on your face. “You’re such a man.”

“And you’ve still got the limp to prove it, haven’t you, baby? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you can’t walk straight.”

“Whatever.” You pull your top down, tug your breasts out of their cups – only to appease him and get him to shut up. Immediately he takes one in his grabby hands, all warm and rough as he tugs and pulls at one nipple.

So, okay, maybe he does know what he’s doing. Sometimes. Who are you kidding? All the time.

“Hm, you like that, don’t you?"

"Shut up,” you hiss, “if you get us banned from this library because of your dirty talk I’m never fucking you again—shit."

“We both know that’s not true.”

A steady stream of suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves calls your attention elsewhere; at the same time, your nipple is rolled between his index and thumb. You feel like you’re buzzing all over, and it’s not because you’ve had five cups of coffee in the last three hours.

You don’t realise that you’re panting – fucking close – until Haechan releases your clit with a pop. He ducks underneath the table to peek up at you again. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

"I’ll be quiet,” you promise through gritted teeth, shoving your top into your mouth. You restrain the urge to curse him out because you could feel the beginning flutters of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, and you know he’ll draw it out as much as possible if given the chance. “Just keep going."

He’s wearing a victorious, shit-eating grin when he gets back to it, energy increasing rapidly. He eats pussy like he’s competing for a trophy, and truth be told, you don’t mind being his prize if he makes you cum as hard as you did a few days ago. His tongue moves eagerly, tracing letters and numbers and fucking his name on your sensitive skin before sucking again.

No noise. You try to coach your brain into silence.

You never usually have a problem keeping quiet for the first orgasm. But as much as you hate to admit it, the act of being eaten out in a public library is a different kind of turn on.

And it really doesn't help that Haechan knows exactly what he’s doing.

Maybe that’s why when you cum, you have no problem with clinging to any part of him you can get your hands on — his hand on your chest, his hair between your legs. A weak whimper follows as you contract around nothing, hips bucking gently into his mouth, and he takes it all in.

Fuck.

He slides back from under the table and resurfaces a metre away, grinning widely. You know the image of you looking so ruined because of him is doing wonders for his ego — so as quickly as possible you pull your top down and readjust your skirt, panties irritatingly rough against your skin.

"Good, huh?"

You don’t want to give him anymore satisfaction, but you know with the orgasm he had just given you so publicly, there was no use in lying. In fact, you’re certain lying to him would only make his cocky ego flame even more.

“Whatever, Hyuck. You give good head, I’ll give you that.”

He hums, leaning backwards. “Thanks, baby. Now, bend over."

”Excuse me?“ You say.

“C’mon, you can’t just let me eat your pretty pussy and not expect me to get hard. You’re blue balling me here, Princess.”

You’re so genuinely shaken by his unfaltering confidence that you just stare.

“And don’t pretend you don’t love my cock.”

“Hyuck—”

“Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

You’re in a library. Letting him eat you out was already a reach — but you can’t deny that you do love the feeling of him inside you. And he did take good care of you last time. And —

You sigh in defeat, standing. “Remember what I told you last time?"

"You get loud after two. I’ll keep that in mind, baby.”

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”

[a-s-ter]

"𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆"

— 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: If you don't want your butler to reach a breaking point and take matters into his own hands by 'disciplining' you, perhaps refrain from behaving like a spoiled brat next time.

— 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rough sex , unprotected sex , brat!reader , overstimulation , bttm male reader , blowjob , smacking , swearing , dirtytalk , praise , manhandling , dirty talk , age gap , virgin!reader , making out , degradation , petnames , non con , public sex.

PART 1 , PART 2

You sat at the long, luxurious dinner table while the maid nervously watched you eat the food prepared for you. As you took a bite, the maid grew anxious, eyes fixed on your every move. Moments later, a displeased expression crossed your face, and the maid seemed to brace herself for what was to come, as if she had expected it.

"blech!" you spat the meal you were eating. "This is disgusting! Make me another one!" you shouted, throwing the plate of food to the ground, shattering it into pieces. You glared at the maid, who nodded and hurriedly began picking up the broken fragments from the floor.

As the maid cleaned, your impatience mounted. "Move faster!" you demanded. Startled, she flinched, causing the shattered glass to prick her skin, blood seeping from the cuts.

You didn't care. The sight of her blood, her pain—none of it mattered to you. You were a just brat after all.

"Hurry up! I'm growing impatient, you vermin!" you scolded, your harsh words causing tears to well up in her eyes. She nodded quickly and, once done cleaning the mess, ran off to get your new food.

"He wants another dish." the maid announced to the weary chefs. It was the fourth meal you had dismissed.

"Again? What does that brat even like?!" one chef groaned, exasperated. "He's just toying with us. He enjoys seeing us suffer because he has all that power," another chef complained.

The butler, Kyzer, heard their conversation as he passed through the hallways. The chefs and maid flinched when he entered the kitchen. "S-Sir Kyzer!" bowed the maid.

"Oh, Kyzer, what brings you here?" a male chef inquired.

"Pardon me but I accidentally overheard one of your discussion regarding the unfortunate incident with the prince. It saddens me that the boy has, for the fourth time, squandered your hard-prepared meals. I intend to address this matter with him personally, in the hope of curbing this unacceptable behavior." Kyzer declared, his words resonating deeply with the maid and the chefs.

"Kyzer, we appreciate it, but you don't have to do that! We can handle him... I think?" another chef responded, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

"I must. I don't want your hard work and efforts to go to waste," Kyzer said firmly, his resolve clear.

"K-kyzer, you're so kind to us!" one of the chefs exclaimed, clearly moved by his actions. "I just don't understand why M/n can't be more like you—polite, kind, and well-mannered, instead of such a brat!"

"Well, he's been surrounded by abundance and luxury his whole life. His parents never taught him proper etiquette, so I suppose that's why he turned out that way," another chef remarked.

"Hm... Would you also like me to teach him a thing or two?" "

"Yes! That would be wonderful, Kyzer! Please change his behavior if you can," the chefs pleaded, bowing deeply in gratitude.

"I'll do my best. Now, if you'll excuse me," Kyzer said, bowing before leaving the kitchen. He walked purposefully through the grand hallways of the kingdom toward the dining room where you were waiting.

A few minutes later, Kyzer arrived and opened the large door to the dining room. There you were, sitting alone at the long table, surrounded by empty chairs, waiting impatiently for your food with an annoyed cute expression on your face.

You turned to look at him, his long white hair and piercing yellow eyes sending a chill down your spine. "Who are you? And where is that maid? Why is she taking so long? Ugh!" you grumbled, sounding like a spoiled child.

"My name is Kyzer, your highness," he introduced himself, bowing deeply with one hand on his chest and the other arm behind his back. "The maid is in the kitchen, and it takes time to prepare a new dish for you, your highness." he explained, maintaining his respectful bow.

"Then make them cook faster. I'm getting impatient here!" you demanded, scrutinizing Kyzer from head to toe.

"I'm afraid I cannot your highness. I'm here for other reasons," Kyzer replied, straightening up.

"What?! How dare a lowly butler like you defy my orders?!" you exclaimed, shocked by his refusal. "What even is your reason here?" you demanded, glaring at him.

"You."

"W-what?" you responded, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm here because of you, Your Highness," he said, his yellow eyes boring into yours.

You felt a twinge of nervousness under his intense glare, but you weren't one to back down. Crossing your arms defiantly, you retorted. "Me? What for? If it's something insignificant, you get out of my sight!"

"Oh, Your Highness, it's far from unimportant because it's about you."

"About me!? Just what are you trying to say?" you replied while staring at him with perplexity and fury.

He was starting to get on your nerves.

"It's about your behavior and manners, Your Highness. They need to change—"

You snapped, standing up abruptly and grabbing a wine glass. You threw it at him, but it missed and shattered against the wall instead.

"Don't try and give me lessons about behavior and manners, it won't work on me you imbecile!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the grand dining room. As you met his gaze, you flinched at the intensity of his icy glare fixed on you.

You were slowly getting on his nerves.

Somehow, you felt a twinge of regret for your actions, but what was done was done, and there was no turning back. "I'm giving you a chance. I'll let this slide for now!" you scoffed, striding towards him and 'accidentally' bumping his shoulder as you headed for the door. "Tell the maids to clean up the mess." you ordered, but he said nothing.

Weird.

Just as you were about to open the door, he grabbed you roughly by the hair, eliciting a pained sound from you. He threw you to the floor, and you landed hard on your backside, hissing in pain.

"What the fuck are you doing!? If my parents hear about this, your head will be cut off!" you yelled, staring up at him, though part of you wished you hadn't. Behind those intense yellow eyes, you sensed something ominous lurking. Something telling you that something bad was about to happen.

"This is your last chance."

"Change. Your. Behavior."

You chuckled, "And why should I?" you raised an eyebrow, smirking defiantly.

"People are suffering because of you. Your crude and mean comments, your filthy mouth—they need to be purified. And I know you didn't receive proper etiquette, so I'm willing to teach you." he explained.

"Purified!? fuck off! They deserve it. I don't care whether I hurt their feelings or not, they're lowlifes! They don't deserve to be treated the same way. And those chefs and maids? They're just servants, working for us. They're poor, probably came from the gutter, ew! They don't deserve special treatment like us royals!" you retorted venomously.

And then he finally snapped.

As he walked towards you, confusion clouded your expression. "What are you doing—" but your words were cut off as he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you onto the table. You struggled to pry his hands away, but he was too strong.

"Get your dirty hands off me!" you shouted at him, but he ignored your protests. With a swift motion, he threw you onto the table, and you cried out in surprise. Landing with a thud, you quickly placed both palms on the table, using it to support your weight.

As you tried to regain your composure. He forcefully stripped off your pants and underwear, leaving your lower body exposed. Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. "Stop! What are you doing with those filthy hands of yours!" you cried out, feeling utterly vulnerable and violated.

You found yourself facing away from him, your exposed backside vulnerable and humiliating. As you attempted to look back at him, he forcefully shoved your head to the ground with his hand, preventing any movement. Struggling to rise, you found yourself pinned in place, utterly helpless.

"S-stop this instant! Someone could walk in here at any moment, you idiot!" you pleaded desperately, but he only inched his face closer to your ear.

"Count." he whispered.

"W-what?"

Smack!

"Wah!" you gasped in surprise as the sharp stinging sensation of his hand striking your exposed ass jolted through you.

"I said, count." he repeated.

"H-how dare you tell me what to do—"

Smack!!

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he delivered a firmer blow to your backside, the sensation igniting a mixture of pain and arousal that pulsed through your body.

"If you don't count, Your Highness, it'll only get worse and harsher," he warned, caressing your slightly reddened ass. "So please do as I say." he urged, his voice soft yet commanding.

Smack!

"O-one," you stammered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Smack!

"T-two..."

Smack!

"T—..three." you breathed out, your face pressed down onto the table. Each smack sent a jolt of sensation through you, a mixture of pain and a strange, exhilarating—....pleasure?

He seemed to be truly enjoying your reactions, relishing in the cute gasps and flinches you let out. A smile spread across his lips as he gently paused the spanks, caressing your ass for a moment before resuming with renewed vigor.

Smack!

"f-four!"

As the spanking continued, it eventually came to a halt when you ceased to respond. Sensing your exhaustion, he removed his hand from atop your head, understanding that you had no energy left to fight. Your rear end was now red and throbbing, you had lost track of the count. With gentle care, he soothen your reddened cheeks, offering a moment of relief and comfort.

"How many was it, Your Highness?" His voice was tender as he sought to ground you in the moment.

"I... I don't know," you murmured weakly, your voice barely audible over the echo of pain.

"It's 26, Your Highness," he informed you, his fingers coaxing your face to meet his gaze. As you turned to look at him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire. Your flushed cheeks, those endearing hiccups, those captivating eyes, those cute lips...

Fuck... Every aspect of you stirred an undeniable attraction within him, you were turning him on.

He gazed at your lips, inching his face closer to yours, slowly, deliberately. You tried to turn away, but he held your face firmly in place. He was so close, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, close enough to taste your plump lips...

Knock, knock!

The sound jarred him from the moment, a surge of frustration coursing through him. Damn it, he had forgotten they were at the dining table.

"Your Highness, your food is ready," the maid's voice came from outside the door.

"Now, if you cause another disturbance, you'll face another punishment. You don't want that, do you?" he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity.

"F-fuck you... L-let me go and get my pants! T-this is an order," you demanded weakly, still exhausted from the pain and the effort of keeping your screams contained so the maids wouldn't become suspicious and barge in.

Kyzer was going to follow your orders, but his eyes darted down to your shaft, which was standing up confidently. "Are you sure, Your Highness? You're quite... hard down there. You wouldn't want an uncomfortable erection, would you?" he taunted, his hand lowering from your ass to your shaft.

"N-no, it'll go down. Stop!" you stammered, but a moan escaped your lips as he touched you. "Look at this cute little cock, so pretty, just like its owner," Kyzer murmured, beginning to stroke you. You let out a loud moan and quickly covered your mouth.

"Your Highness, may I come in?" the maid called from outside, oblivious to what was happening inside the room. Kyzer continued to stroke you slowly, the deliberate pace heightening your frustration.

"H-hurry up!" you ordered, your voice strained with urgency.

"You want me to hurry? Then beg for it, Your Highness," he smirked, his hand engulfing your tiny lil sensitive cock.

You were embarrassed and humiliated at this point. You, a prince, begging for something? It infuriated you, but the thought of your reputation being ruined drove you to comply.

"P-please hurry up, please let—hng!...M-me cum." you begged, your teary eyes locking with his mischievous yellow ones. He licked his lips, clearly enjoying your submission.

"As you wish, Your Highness," he said, his pace quickening as he stroked you up and down, causing your back to arch off the table.

"Mmhp!?" you moaned, drool seeping from your mouth as you tried to stifle your sounds with your hand. He began to tease the tip of your cock with his index finger, swirling it clockwise.

"Your Highness, please let me hear those beautiful moans... Please let me hear how good I’m making you feel," he whispered. Lost in the pleasure, you obliged, moaning louder, no longer able to control yourself.

"That's it," he breathed, his lustful eyes fixed on your flushed face. Drool was seeping from your mouth, your cheeks were a deep shade of red, and your eyebrows were scrunched up in pure ecstasy. The sight of you like this almost made him cum in his pants. "That's a good boy." he grinned, his own arousal evident as he continued to bring you closer to the edge.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Your Highness?" Kyzer's voice dripped with seduction, his smile widening as he saw you lost in pleasure. "Fuck... You're so adorable when you're messed up." His face flushed as he leaned in, licking the tears streaming down your cheeks. The sensation made you shiver, and he grinned, quickening his pace.

"Nngh—!... Ahh! I-I'm gon' c-cum!!" you cried out, your body trembling as you threw your head back.

"Cum for me, Your Highness. Be a good boy and cum for me."

"A-ahh~!" Your cute little cock spurted, painting the marble floor with streaks of white as you panted heavily, sweat glistening on your skin.

"Well done, Your Highness. I'm very proud of you~♡" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I knew you could do it." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Your Highness? Are you there?" the maid called from outside the door, her voice filled with concern.

"Let's get you dressed up, yeah?" Kyzer said softly, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. He retrieved your discarded clothing, his touch gentle but firm as he helped you back into your garments. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he adjusted your clothing with meticulous care.

You were still trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure making it difficult to stand. Kyzer's hands were steady, though, guiding you through each movement as he redressed you.

"Remember, Your Highness," he murmured, his lips close to your ear, "I will change your behavior. This is just the beginning." He smirked.

Once you were fully dressed, he took a step back, his eyes scanning you with satisfaction. "There you go, presentable as ever." He straightened his own attire, ensuring he looked impeccable before turning towards the door.

As he opened it, the maid stood waiting with your meal. "Your food, Your Highness," she said, bowing slightly.

Kyzer gave you one last meaningful glance, his eyes lingering on yours. "Enjoy your meal your highness." he said smoothly, before stepping aside to let the maid through.

[megamindsecretlair]

Girrrlll a thought if you will but Terry Richmond the idea of a breeding kink with him. A thought that randomly popped into my unhinged brain for him. Cause GIRL! He’s already toxic in bed and just add that to the mix.

A/N: You sneakin a peek at my drafts????

I Swear I'll Never Leave

Pairing: Toxic Baby Daddy!Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, angst if you squint, fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, spanking, breeding kink, overstimulation, hair pulling, manhandling, persuasion through the power of dick, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: See Ask. When Terry comes to pick up your daughter, you can’t help picking a fight with him. He sends your daughter outside to wait with Mike while he makes sure you understand a few things.

Word Count: 4,909k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. I hope this lives up to the hype. This is close to the daydream I had. Ya'll know how hard it is to match it perfectly lol. This hurt ME so I hope you enjoy. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Loud banging on the metal door tore your attention away from your Kindle. You groaned and looked at the time on your alarm clock. It was past two. One of your biggest pet peeves about your baby daddy was that he was annoyingly on time. You were not.

You groaned and got up from bed, picking up the pace once you heard your daughter, Cadence, hopping up and down on your hardwood floors. “Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!” She giggled, hopping in a circle outside of your room.

“Yes, baby, I heard him,” you said, hunting for your robe. You were only in a giant red sleep shirt while you waited for laundry to get done. The banging continued and you took your precious time finding said robe. That man would just have to wait. 

“Mommy, he’s hereeeee,” Cadence sang, bouncing on the balls of her little feet. 

“Yes, baby, I know. What did we say about patience?” You asked, grabbing your robe from your chair and putting it on. It was actually an old one of Terry’s that was soft and reminded you of him. 

Cadence sighed and stuck out her bottom lip. She looked down and sighed again. “Sometimes we have to wait for what we want,” she said, her voice sounding the complete opposite from what it was before. 

You chuckled and tapped her nose. “Alright now. Go get your things and I’ll let your daddy in, okay?” You asked.

Cadence’s smile returned full force, lighting up her face that looked so much like Terry. Like he spat the baby out and you just carried her. It was honestly disrespectful. Terry banged on the door once more, getting louder and more annoying with it.

You huffed and walked to the front of the house, opening the wooden door. “Can you stop banging on my door like you the police?” You asked. 

Terry chuckled and scratched at his beard. The stubble made him look more rugged and you fought a shiver as you took in the rest of him. He wore black sweats and a matching black tank top molded to his body. 

Tank tops were made for someone like him. Someone so chiseled and well defined. He still kept up his training, still made sure to spend hours in the gym keeping up his physique. It was annoying as hell. Like why couldn’t he let himself go? Couldn’t he make it easier to leave him alone? 

“If you just gave me a key…” Terry said, leaning against the metal door. His gorgeousness was disrupted by the metal screen and you took a deep breath. Facing Terry was like coming into contact with the divine. He was far from a saint, but he was so damn pretty. 

“Nice try. Can’t have you walking in if I have company,” you said, opening the door, finally. Terry’s ever changing eyes watched your every movement. He smiled once you were revealed and you tightened the string on the robe. 

“If you miss me, just say that,” he said, his eyes going lower and lower. You crossed your legs and your arms, communicating to him that you were closed for business. 

“I’m doing mighty fine without you, thank you,” you said. You looked behind you. For all her excitement, what the hell was taking Cadence so long? 

“Mhm,” Terry hummed, smirk curling his lips. You ignored him, tapping your foot on the ground. 

“It’s been four months. When are you gonna let me back in?” Terry moved to take up the entire door frame with his height and size. He wore a do-rag on his head, the ends tucked in. Dressed in all black as he was, he may as well have been a giant red flag.

“How about…October 32nd?” You asked, grinning at him. 

Terry chuckled. “That’s not what you said last time,” he said. 

“I was drunk last time. I would’ve said anything to get off,” you said, just as Cadence came flying through the living room.

“Dadddddyyyyyyyy!” She screamed and launched herself at him. He bent down at the last minute and caught her, giving her a giant hug and swinging her from side to side. 

“How is my little baby?” He asked. He hefted Cadence onto his hip and looked up at her. The grin on her face. You smiled and took out your phone to capture a photo of the both of them. Terry hung the moon as far as your daughter was concerned. As long as he remained a good father, you weren’t going to stand in the way of that. 

She was old enough to realize that daddy was no longer at home with her, but young enough to not fully realize why. You didn’t have the words to explain to her that you loved Terry, but you couldn’t be in the same room with him without wanting to commit bloody murder. 

 Cadence chattered away, telling Terry everything he missed since the last time he saw her. He listened to everything, casting glances at you. You shared a smile with him, admiring this beautiful, creative daughter you made together. 

“I can’t wait to hear more, baby, but I need to talk to mommy. Go play with Uncle Mike until we’re done,” he said.

“We don’t have to talk,” you said. If he went on and left, you could enjoy the rest of your holiday weekend doing absolutely fucking nothing. After laundry and the dishes, you planned on relaxing tonight. You just needed to decide on which type of alcohol to accompany you. 

Terry flicked his eyes to you and raised an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes. The fuck does he want? 

Cadence pouted as Terry put her down but she saw Mike leaning against Terry’s truck. He waved to you and you returned it, watching Cadence run into his arms with the same force she did for Terry. Mike scooped her up and gave her a big hug, tickling her. 

Terry stepped into the house like he owned it. Sure, both of your names were on the deed, but that didn’t mean shit. “Hey!” You called after him and then closed the door. 

Terry looked around and you spread your arms, following behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” You asked. 

Terry checked the living room and then turned back to you with a smirk on his lips. He approached you and you backed away. You realized what he was doing and then stopped, held your ground. Terry encroached into your personal space, looking down his wide nose at you. 

“I know you miss me,” he said. 

You laughed and shook your head. “The fuck make you think that?” You asked and crossed your arms. 

“You pick fights when you need some dick,” he said.

You sputtered as your brain stalled. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, and kick his ass out of your house. But your body was a traitor. You flushed with heat and you grew wet between your legs. 

Fuck. Tequila it was tonight as you threw on a good porno and got yourself off. You had been feeling restless lately, feeling like you wanted to chew through bricks if it meant getting some relief. Ovulation week was horrible. Nothing but dick on the brain and how soon you could get some. How he knew that was a damn mystery, but you tightened the belt on the robe to the point of pain and then re-crossed your arms. 

“That’s not true,” you said. 

Terry advanced on you, pushing you backwards with a few fingers on your tummy. Your back hit the door frame separating the front room from the hallway. Once he had you where he wanted, he pulled at the robe you had on. Your thighs tingled and he opened the robe to reveal your sleep shirt. 

“Laundry day?” He asked.

“How the fu–”

Terry leaned down and brought his lips to yours. He stopped just before contact and you smelled the fresh mint on his breath. “Don’t you know by now that I notice everything about you?” He asked. 

He curled a finger under your chin and lifted it until you looked into the deep pool of his eyes. His thumb stroked your chin and your pussy felt it. It throbbed and the wetness got worse. 

You licked your lips and huffed, giving him a shrug. “I don’t need any help, thank you,” you said. You pushed at his shoulder but he didn’t budge. Didn’t even pretend to. You sighed and tried a different tactic. “Cadence has been looking forward to today for a while. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Terry’s smile was slow and near animalistic. “Speaking of, isn’t it time for us to have another?” He asked. 

You burst with laughter, the force of it stealing your breath. You shook your head and looked at him. His eyes were trained on you, tracking everything, before you burst into laughter once more. You wiped the corners of your eyes and shook your head. “Fuck no,” you said. 

“You sure? Remember how much fun we had making Cadence?” He asked. He kissed the corner of your mouth and then moved his hand from your chin, down around your breast, and then further down to your stomach.

He flattened his big hand across your tummy, giving it a squeeze. His palm was warm, seeping through your shirt. If you had on panties, they’d be ruined by now. You were too turned on. Too flushed with heat. Too down bad to continue even the smallest torture. And he knew it. 

He hummed as he sighed with satisfaction, like he just confirmed something he had been questioning. He blinked and that turned you on. That’s how you knew you were fucked. “Let’s make a son,” he said.

“So I can go through pregnancy alone? Again?” You asked. 

Terry winced and you immediately felt bad. That was below the belt. You sighed and leaned away from him, pushing at his hand. “This is why we don’t work,” you whispered. Terry made you bring your claws out. Wanting to hurt him. And that wasn’t what relationships were about. You shouldn’t want to hurt the love of your life. 

Terry kept his hand on your belly and brought his other hand to cup your cheek. “I know I fucked up. But we do work well together,” he said. 

“You didn’t! I was…” You groaned and threw up your hands. Once more, you tried to fight him. To move. To get out from under his influence. He was your worst drug of choice and you were too weak to stay away. Too weak to walk away. 

Terry stayed in place. He kept his hand cupped to your cheek, holding you in place, and moved his other hand from your stomach down to the edge of your shirt. You gasped as he lifted it, inch by slow, torturous inch, and then skated his fingers along the crease between your thigh and pelvis. His rough fingers felt too good and you leaned into it before catching yourself. 

Terry hummed as he moved his fingers between your legs, seeking between your damp curls, and then wiggling between your pussy lips. You hissed and held onto his shoulders, dug your nails in. 

Terry kissed your cheek. “This is why we work well together. The way you respond…you can’t fake that,” he said. He brought his forehead to the side of yours, fingers starting to play with your essence. He always stopped before he got too close to your clit. 

“We can’t build something on a foundation of sex, Terry,” you said.

“That isn’t our foundation. We still love each other. We’re still in love with each other,” he said, his deep voice was like a physical caress on your body. You felt it along the curves of your hips and the dip between your thighs. You spread your legs wider, giving him more access. 

Your skin felt like it was going to burn to a crisp. You sunk your nails into his shoulders and Terry groaned, rolling his hips forward. You looked down and saw the tent he pitched in his sweats, giving you a nice outline of his dick. His glorious, beautiful dick.

Your thoughts turned fuzzy as he continued to tease you. He’d definitely hit that spot. That deep spot inside that only he could reach. You were pretty sure he created that spot just for him, knowing damn well no other man would compare to his size. Compared to the way he took care of you in the bedroom.

Combined with your hormones going haywire, your knees grew weaker. Your clit throbbed as his questing fingers grew closer and you whimpered as he moved away, swirling figure eight’s with your essence. 

“Let me cum,” you whispered, moving your hips to chase after his fingers. 

“Let me back in the house,” he countered. You sighed and rubbed your head against his.

“Terry…” You said. 

He called your name and then moved his fingers to your entrance. You gasped and he lifted your chin. He pulled back to look into your eyes. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping on a mix of ovulation and lust. 

You were leaving half moons in his skin from your nails. You relaxed and rubbed the pain away. It gave you something to focus on other than his beautiful hands playing you like a damn fiddle. 

Terry pushed his middle finger into your pussy and you moaned, loudly, lewdly, mouth falling open and closed. You wanted to make another sound but fuck if you knew what it would be. 

“How long has it been since last time? Since I was playing in this pussy?” Terry asked. He stepped closer. You brought your leg up to rub against his thigh. It opened you up further for him to pump his thick finger in and out of you. 

In no time, he had you moaning and biting your lip. You were so close…almost there…and…Terry pulled his finger out. You groaned and looked at him. He smirked while he brought his finger to his mouth and suckled. 

“Get that sexy ass on our bed,” Terry said. He moved back slowly so you’d have a chance to lower your leg. 

You whined and stomped your foot. Terry tilted his head. You sighed and moved away from him, marching your ass to the bed. “This is the last time, Terry,” you said over your shoulder. Out from underneath him, clarity returned to your brain. 

You were saying yes for you. You were saying yes because you deserved it. You were saying yes because fuck, it��d been two weeks since he blew your back out and you needed that same loving to get you through the next two weeks. 

In two weeks, you’d be stronger. You’d be able to resist him. You’d be able to look across the threshold at him, picking up your daughter, and not feel that tug towards him. That glimpse into the man you fell in love with before he went into the service. You’d remain unaffected and in control.

Tonight, you were just ready to turn your brain off. Ready to fuck him like you missed him and then let him go after. You walked into your bedroom and moved your Kindle to the nightstand. Terry’s heavy footfalls sounded behind you, matching the beat of your erratic heart. 

“You said that last time,” he said. 

You smoothed out the comforter, in your favorite color, and rolled your eyes. “And I meant it. I mean it now,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. And you’ll mean it next time?” He asked. 

Terry opened the cabinet in your hallway and took out a towel. You lifted your eyes at him. “Someone’s a little confident,” you said. 

“It’s cute when you try to act tough. Like you not drooling over this dick,” he said. He entered the room and took a look around. You wondered if he was comparing things to the last time he was here. Cadence was away at a sleepover and you broke down and asked him to come over to handle the heat between your thighs. 

“Drooling?” You asked and laughed. “If you desperate for this kitty, just say that.” 

“I’m desperate for it,” he said, flicking his warm eyes towards you. You snapped your mouth shut and stared while he laid the towel down on the edge of the bed. He finished and then crossed the room to you.

“You can pretend all you want, but if you didn’t want me? You wouldn’t have worn this,” he said and pulled off the robe. He balled it up and then tossed it to the chair where it usually resided. You licked your lips for lack of a better response. Because…fair.

“And, you would have put on some panties. Some pants,” he said. He lifted your shirt off in one rough yank and you gasped. Terry hummed and looked you up and down. “And you definitely wouldn’t have answered the door like this. Since you did, that can only mean you need me.”

“Need is such a big word,” you said. 

Terry slipped his fingers into your hair and pulled. You moaned and closed your eyes. He walked with you like that, fist full of your hair, to the edge of the bed. He made you climb on the foot of the bed and once in position, he moved you to face the corner of your room. 

The floor mirror showed your reflection, hair pulled up and away in Terry’s hand. He looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You absolutely missed this. Missed the way he looked at you like he couldn’t breathe without your smile in his life. Your body naturally bent forward, sticking your ass higher.

Terry locked eyes with you in the mirror. “Need is a very big word,” he said. He smacked your ass and moaned in the back of his throat. 

The pain in your ass blossomed, radiated with fire. Terry delivered a few more smacks. Each one stung worse than the last, but you started to look forward to his smacks. You lifted your ass higher, meeting his hand. Your pussy dripped with your essence. You moaned, pussy clenching as you looked at the focus on his face. The determination. 

His mouth was twisted and his eyebrows were furrowed as he painted your ass with his hand. You started to shake, started to tremble, before he stopped and smoothed his hand down your ass. 

You hissed and moaned, pushing your ass into his hand. Terry yanked on your hair and you groaned as you lifted off of the bed. 

“Look at me,” he ordered. You found his eyes in the mirror. He smiled as he lowered his sweats and then plunged inside of you in one rough thrust. 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you gasped. Terry’s smirk grew wider. He held firm to your hair, pulling to the point of pain, while he kept himself buried to the hilt. Your nails dug into the sheets, pulled at the covers.

“Look so fuckin’ gorgeous takin’ dick,” he said. 

Your fist pounded feebly on the bed. You couldn’t move unless he willed it. You could only look at the satisfaction on his face. “Condom,” you choked out. 

“We don’t need one, do we?” He asked. He pulled out and then pushed back in. You felt every inch of him. Every long, beautiful inch of his dick sliding against your wet walls. 

Now was not the right time for another baby. You finally felt like you had a handle on Cadence. And she was plenty to handle on a good day. “She won’t forgive us for another baby,” you said, trying to come up for a good reason not to let him bathe your insides. At the moment, everything was coming up short. He and your body were working against your higher functioning. Breaking you down to the basest drive to fuck and make babies. 

Terry pushed in and out of you a few more times, letting your essence coat his dick. “She’ll forgive us,” he said and sped up, slamming his hips into yours. He tightened his hold on your hair, pulling your neck to the side so he could lean down and lick. 

You moaned and shivered, a tingle spreading throughout your body. He stroked, moving his hips, and hitting it just like you needed it. 

“Look how sexy you look,” he said. He pulled your hair and made you lift your face to the mirror. You saw your mouth dropped open, eyes at half mast, ass in the air. Terry hovered on top of you, muscles bunching and flexing beneath his effort. 

“Fuck, Terry, fuck, fuck,” you moaned. Your body raced towards an orgasm. There was no teasing, no playing coy or shy. There was just the feel of him inside of you. Where he belonged. Where he needed to be. You came in no time, embarrassingly easy, and you screamed your release. 

Terry kissed and licked your neck and ear, moaning. His breaths fanned across your neck, right where he licked, and it raised goosebumps on your flesh. 

“Missed this pussy. Missed the way you ride me,” he moaned. 

“Shh, you talk too damn much,” you said, waving him away. One orgasm only fed the next one, making your thighs shake on him. His thighs hit your ass, creating a perfect, rhythmic smack that was seriously turning you on. 

Terry yanked on your hair until you brought your hands up to clutch at his hand. You were on your knees, chest poked out, hissing with pain. Your pussy clenched around his dick, unable to hide how much it turned you on when he manhandled you. 

“I think you forgot who you’re talking to,” he said. He kissed your cheek and looked at you in the mirror.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You shook your head. 

Terry grinned, showing off that beautiful, devastating smile of his. He grabbed your titty, squeezed the fuck out of your sensitive nipple, and then started ramming in and out of you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you screamed. 

His dick speared you, slamming into your walls. Your very womb ached from his strokes. Wet, loud squelching filled the room. Terry moaned, cursing low and under his breath. Thank god for the towel. You were soaked. And you were flooding his dick with your essence, making you into a slip n’ slide. 

Terry groaned, getting lost in it, as he fucked you like a toy. “Takin’ me so well, you a professional, huh?” He asked.

You shook your head, unable to speak. Unable to hear properly. He found that deep spot inside, practically kissing your cervix, dick hitting it with precision. You moaned, low and long. You squeezed the hand that held your hair and he ignored you. 

“Keep this up, you gon’ make me bust. That’s what you want, right?” He asked. 

You nodded. Fuck, yes, you wanted it. You needed it. You needed his cum inside of you. You wanted to be the only receptacle for his cum. If it wasn’t in his hand, you wanted it all over you and inside of you. You wanted, you wanted, you wanted.

“Words,” he said. Both of you grew damp with sweat. Bodies sliding against each other. Grabbing onto each other for dear life. As if the moment you let go, you’d fade away forever. You’d drown and lose yourself and he was your only tether to the real world. It came down to you connected to him. 

“I can’t,” you moaned. You weren’t going to last much longer. You were close again. So fuckin’ close that it hurt. Your tummy cramped, the need to cum overwhelming. You also didn’t want to give in. Didn’t want to concede.

“Admit you need me,” he said. 

“Terry, please,” you whined. Terry slowed down his strokes. “No, no, no!” 

Terry moved his hand from your titty to lay across your entire chest. He kept you upright with his arm, hand grabbing your other titty so he could roll your nipple between his fingers. You whined and cried, tears gathering in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered.

“Say you miss me. Say you want this baby I’m finna give you,” he said. He locked eyes with you in the mirror. 

He saw everything. Saw the way you were sniffling and pleading with your eyes. You squeezed his hand that was still clutching your hair but he refused to move. His dick throbbed, still lodged inside you, and you wanted to collapse. This was too much for you. Too intense. 

“Terry,” you begged. 

Terry kissed your cheek, the space beneath your ear, and then licked the shell of your ear. “I need to hear it,” he said, his voice low. 

You closed your eyes as you retreated from the edge. You groaned as you could feel it going away.

“I need to hear that you crave this dick. That you get flashbacks, times when I hit it well. That you wake up in the middle of the night, burning, wanting to call me but knowing that if you do, it’s just one more step to me moving back in. Moving back in and taking care of you, of Cadence, of this baby,” he said. He couldn’t help moving a little, rocking you up and down his dick once.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Your pussy clenched around him and Terry groaned. 

“I know that pussy want it. Hear how she talkin’? What she trynna say to me?” He asked. 

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, voice breathy. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

“What’s she really saying?” He asked.

“I want that baby,” you moaned. Fuck, how could you not? How could you not want another tether to him? Another way to call him yours? 

Your problems were in the back of your mind. You were tired of sleeping in a cold bed. Tired of handling Cadence by yourself. Tired of doing this shit by yourself. You wanted your man at home. Wanted him deep in your pussy whenever the mood struck.

“That’s my girl,” he said. He started moving again, slamming his dick in and out of you. He moved his hand from your titties to your stomach, stopping to squeeze your belly. You moaned and he squeezed again. 

You loved when he did that. When he touched you possessively. Hungrily. Like there was too much skin for him to get to at once. Like he wanted it all, wanted every last inch of you there was to have. You matched his strokes, throwing it back on him. 

Terry groaned and moved his hands to your pussy, pushing past your pussy lips and stroking your clit. He rubbed furiously, flicking your clit, and you made incoherent sounds. Sputtered through moans, groans, and “oh my god, yes, please, nut in me, nut in meeeee, oueee.”

Terry growled in your ear and that sent you over. The raw need in his throat. You twitched and jerked, moaning, promising him however many babies he wanted. His chuckle was cut off by a groan as he stroked a few more times before cumming. 

He rammed one last time and kept you plugged up while he came and came. Thick, hot ropes of cum painted your inner walls and your brain turned to mush as he did so. His dick throbbed. Your pussy ached. A deep hole was filled by him. By this beautiful, messy, fucked up, toxic man you called the love of your life. 

“Fuuuck,” you twitched on his throbbing dick. He groaned as he huffed and recovered from his orgasm, pulling out to watch himself leak out. He spread your ass cheeks, gave it a smack, and then reentered you.

“Ouee, shit,” you moaned, thighs tingling. 

Terry chuckled and bottomed out, keeping himself there. “I think we just made a son, baby,” he said and pulled you into a kiss. Your neck ached in this position but fuck it. You wanted his sloppy, wet kisses. 

He kissed you sweetly as he moved his hand from your pussy to your stomach, massaging it. You giggled and tapped at his shoulder. “Really mu’fucker?” You asked. 

He chuckled and pecked you on the lips. “Just increasing our chances. Get this sexy, beautiful body in the shower. You gotta start taking care of the both of you,” he said. 

You laughed and pushed at his shoulder with yours. “You get on my nerves!” You said, disentangling his hand from your hair.

Terry moved, pushing his cum deeper inside with shallow strokes. You hissed and moaned, loving the feeling of him. “I’m gonna take Cadence out to the park. And then we’re gonna have dinner tonight and explain that Daddy’s moving back in,” he said. 

You sighed heavily and rolled your eyes. But you didn’t argue. “Yes, Daddy,” you moaned.

Terry pulled out and helped clean you up, taking the soaked towel off of the bed and throwing it in the laundry room. He fixed his outfit and you watched from the bed, sorry he hadn’t gotten naked as well.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back tonight fucking that attitude out of you,” he said.

You gasped and he chuckled, running out of the house before you could call him everything but a child of God. 

The end.

You know I can't keep this man off the brain! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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