#I just want to give this man the son he always wanted

[ireverie]

sexcapade

pairing ↠ co-worker!sunghoon x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, professor!sunghoon x professor!reader, infidelity, unprotected sex, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, almost getting caught

summary ↠ with things in the bedroom getting stale with your husband, you start searching for excitement and your co-worker, sunghoon, is more than willing to provide it for you. on campus, you barely acknowledge each other, but in the sheets, you can't stop calling out his name.

wc ↠ 2.2k

a/n ↠ originally posted on my blog revehae, i am not plagiarizing myself. part 1/3 of the in my blood series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

it started in the spring. like there was pollen in the air, too there was lust, gentle breezes seemingly sweeping you flush against sunghoon’s chest where you could never not inhale the manly scent of him; never not leave with it clinging to you.

you were very aware that it was wrong. matter of fact, every time you laid eyes on your husband’s face and looked into his, saw how they twinkled at the sight of you and how they were bewitched by the charm of your soul, guilt ruptured your heart with an angry, unmistakable pang of ire.

so you did not think with the throbbing inside your chest, but the throbbing between your thighs.

a woman needed excitement in her life, a kind of which sunghoon was more than glad to offer. sex quickly got boring in the bedroom after so many years of unlively routines and you taught molecular biology to a class of undergraduates that couldn’t wait to get the fuck on with their lives. to say nothing of the long nights spent sifting through overdue assignments. you were allowed to have fun sometimes. after all, you were only in your early thirties. you still considered yourself young.

like many other women, specifically younger ones that found him attractive for an older man, you noticed that sunghoon did not wear a ring on his finger. upon further discussion, you learned that though he was no longer married, he had a twenty-something-year-old son who took your class. apparently, his son spoke delightfully of you, which was flattering, but you’d always been more interested in what sunghoon thought.

and you quickly found out.

“had enough?” sunghoon asked, poking his head through the doorway. 

not that you could see. there was a blindfold taut around your face, hindering your vision for the past forty-five minutes. to you, it felt like an eternity. the toy between your trembling thighs buzzed, inducing orgasm after orgasm, a number so great that it had tears slipping down your cheeks past the fabric of the blindfold.

speaking of orgasms, you couldn’t stop the cry that parted your lips as heat unfurled throughout your body for the umpteenth time, spreading from between your thighs to your head where there was nothing but empty thought and faintness.

“that was beautiful,” sunghoon remarked, only watching.

“please,” you croaked.

sunghoon played dumb with you. he had a penchant for it, drawing out your agony by pretending as if he were oblivious to your needs, when in reality he was the most attuned to them. “you want more?”

“no!” you exclaimed, desperate. you couldn’t even feel your legs if you tried, that was how long he had left you here with yourself - and this fucking toy. “please, no more. it’s too much, sunghoon.”

“but baby,” sunghoon started, donning his sweetest tone. “you wanted this. remember?”

that was true. you knew when this affair first started that sunghoon was available to open you up to new, exciting things, because your bedroom experiences with your husband could all be described the same way. though with sunghoon, there was room for variety.

it was just overwhelming sometimes. sunghoon could be so harsh under the guise of merely giving you what he wanted. you knew that it was what he wanted if anything, that you were just his lab rant to experiment on, but you never admit that you liked it that way. nor would you admit that you would’ve also liked to be a little more. 

but sunghoon knew that. he never mentioned a word of it, because it didn’t need to be said. it went without saying that you were his to do whatever he pleased with.

“sunghoon…,” you trailed, your voice shaky.

sunghoon, ignoring you, asked, “how many times did you cum?”

you gulped. racking your brain for an answer, you ultimately came up empty. by the third one, time lost all meaning and so did thought. “i… i lost count.”

“then, you know what that means, right?”

you gasped when the toy was moved. not at the action itself, but because you didn’t realize he’d gotten so close. his footsteps were so quiet.

“but…,” you started. 

“but nothing,” sunghoon said, snatching the blindfold off of your face. you blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the brightness. the cuffs around your wrists were next. “you know the rules, don’t you?”

you whispered, “yes, sunghoon.”

“hands and knees.”

you didn’t hesitate to crawl into the said position, regardless of the exhaustion weighing down your body, because you knew what to expect if you didn’t comply with whatever he wanted. there were times were sunghoon was generous enough to let you cum, times where you didn’t deserve it, much like now. you wanted to get around punishment, but it would never happen if you didn’t satiate him.

the bed creaked when he raised himself atop of it from behind you, the sound of him fumbling with his belt making you wetter. once upon a time, you didn’t even think that that was possible, but you never stopped dripping when with sunghoon. somehow, he made even simple things like the anticipation arousing.

sunghoon dropped his shirt, followed by a toss of his pants. he had no need for them anymore. for the forty-five minutes that you’d been ruining his sheets, weakened by the overstimulation, sunghoon had been in his study trying to shake the thoughts of you while he attempted to grade papers. he was already hard from his imagination and the memories of stuffing you full of his cum, but seeing you in front of him, waiting for him, your pussy soaked for him, it did unfathomable things to his cock.

you released a shaky breath when you felt him lubricating himself with your arousal, slipping between your glistening folds, and writhed from the sensitivity. “sunghoon, it’s too much,” you whimpered. 

sunghoon chuckled. “baby, i’m not even inside you yet.”

your face burned. you could feel yourself dripping and it was humiliating, because you only got like this for him and him only.

“so fucking wet,” sunghoon cursed, having fun teasing your folds. “just for me.”

you cried out when he suddenly slapped your cunt, mouth parted as you gasped out, “sunghoon...”

“fuck, you always get so wet for me. isn’t that right, baby?” sunghoon asked, enamored with you. it was magical how he could pretend as if you meant nothing to him at work and become so addicted to you when nobody was watching.

you bobbed your head. “yes, sunghoon. just for you.”

that must’ve did it for him, because the very next second, you felt sunghoon finally start to roll inside of your cunt, mumbling curses under his breath. you almost collapsed then, almost slumped and gave out just from the tip of his cock, but you resisted because you had something that you needed to prove.

sunghoon was slow, but his cock slipped right inside you with ease, it was almost pathetic. not to mention that he was bigger than anything you could’ve imagined taking, so much that you always found yourself gasping when you realized that he wasn’t completely buried inside of you yet. you couldn’t believe that he had so much to give.

“oh my god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back from how full you were. no man had ever satisfied you like this, and sunghoon was just getting started.

not only were you filled to the hilt with his hard cock, but also the ache for him to fuck you until your entire body went numb like he’d already done countless times. sunghoon gripped your hips, using them as an anchor. when you felt so good as you did, as tight as you were, it would be dangerous not to ground himself.

sunghoon grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling just tight enough to let you know the trip was there. you were basking in his warmth and being crushed underneath his weight while he balanced your hips in one hand and the grip on your hair in the other. he smacked your ass and hissed, “so fucking pretty.”

sometimes you wished that he was yours. you could imagine coming home with him day after day, singing to music in the car together while his company made minutes feel like hours. you didn’t mind that he had a son, either. you always wanted a child, though not one that would be the product of shitty sex and a broken marriage.

the liking you’d taken to sunghoon went beyond sex, though the endless orgasms and fulfillment he never neglected you of definitely encouraged those feelings. moments like now, when he was balls deep inside you, you were more than willing to risk it all for him. you would get a divorce. you would move in. anything he wanted, just as quick as he said the word.

i am out of my mind, came your thoughts, though your grip on them slackened the more sunghoon fucked you into oblivion. 

“it’s so… deep,” you gasped, marveling. 

sunghoon chuckled. though you had never said it outright, your constant fascination with how big his cock was or how deep he could fit inside you, stretching out your velvety tight walls, was more than enough of an indication that your husband was not exactly packing like he was. you made it a point to mention that sunghoon was huge.

“yeah?” sunghoon asked huskily, wanting to suck a bruise onto the side of your throat, but he willed himself not to.

“mm-hm,” you mumbled. “can feel you in… in my stomach.”

“where?” sunghoon kept one hand at your hip but dropped the one at your head, wrapping it around you, and reaching for your stomach. “here?”

you bobbed your head. he could feel it too, and it elicited a deep growl out of him, one that had you clamping involuntarily around his size.

sunghoon could fuck you for hours if you let him. the same way that he was the best you’d ever had, he simply couldn’t get enough of you. there were times throughout the day where his mind would only flicker with debilitating thoughts of you, memories of your face and how you tasted. at times, you made it difficult to move on.

“dad,” came a voice from down the hall, one both of you were very acquainted with. 

“shit,” sunghoon hissed, irritated, and clamped his hand around your mouth. your cries and whimpers were muffled into his hard palm and your breath was cut off, because it was so difficult to breathe solely through your nose. “be a good girl and keep quiet.”

“dad,” sounded jake’s voice again, just outside the door. 

your heart was racing. your eyes were wide, the fear and excitement of getting caught fighting for totality in your icy veins. his son was one of your students and students talked. if it got out that you were having an affair with sunghoon, this could destroy you, but there was something so arousing about the thrill.

“i’m in here. don’t open that door,” sunghoon said, breathless voice betraying what was happening behind that door. 

his son was far from stupid, that you knew all too well, and retorted, “dad, are you getting laid? is it the hot nurse you were flirting with at the hospital? tell her i said ‘hi.’”

you frowned.

before sunghoon could even get a word out, his son added, “i’m leaving. you two have the house to yourselves again.”

“bye,” sunghoon huffed, dropping his palm from your face. 

you inhaled sharply. you could finally breathe again.

sunghoon kissed the back of your neck, nibbling at your ear. “you did so good,” he whispered, voice gentle and sweet as ever. “if you beg good enough, i’ll change my mind and let you cum.”

you hopped at the opportunity like a ravenous pack of wolves starved through the winter, begging with the utmost desperation, “sunghoon, please. please let me cum. i’ll do anything, oh my fucking god, i need it. i need you.”

“you need me?”

so fucking bad. more than anything. “i need you,” you repeated, whinier. needier.

“cum around my dick,” sunghoon commanded, voice deep and throaty and just the way you liked it. you would steal a soul for him if that was what he wanted.

it wasn’t very long before one final cry of his name escaped you, pouring out of your lips like honey as you stuttered around his cock, heat spasming between your legs. tears trickled from your eyes, the stimulation from all of the orgasms you’d had in one night alone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from convulsing. your muscles slackened and your limbs went limp to your sides.

sunghoon was directly behind you, spurred on by the sight and feeling of you coming undone around him, and you knew when his hold on your hips tightened and that lethal growl parted his mouth that he had met his climax, the feeling of his hot cum seeping into your cunt being the unnecessary confirmation.

“good fucking girl,” sunghoon praised, still sweetly in your ear.

you sighed contentedly when he flipped you onto your back, sweeping you into his arms and kissing your lips as a treat. he wiped the tears out of your eyes, watching you still shudder.

“stay the night,” sunghoon said, looking into your hazy eyes. 

you blinked, breathing heavily to catch your breath. “sunghoon, you know i can’t do that. my husband will...”

“i wasn’t asking.”

“well,” you replied, quietening. “i guess i can come up with something.”

sunghoon smiled triumphantly, smashing his lips against yours again. you sighed again, still content, though there was a thought lurking on your mind. i don’t know what i’m going to do.

[seanminfl]

I sat quietly, my cock straining in its cage. My youngest son is the master in our house and he was sodomizing his older brother on the couch again. I was only allowed to clean up the mess with my tongue when he was done.

My youngest son, Jake, was a muscular, handsome man with piercing blue eyes and a devilish smirk. He had an insatiable appetite for sex and took great pleasure in dominating his older brother, John. John, on the other hand, was a tall, lean man with hazel eyes and short brown hair. He had a submissive nature, which only fueled Jake's desire to dominate him.

One day, as I sat in the living room, I overheard Jake and John talking about their latest sexual exploit. John was retelling the story to Jake, who listened intently with a growing smirk on his face.

John: "So, I was lying there on the couch, completely naked and ready for you."

Jake: "Mmm, I remember. Your cock was already hard and begging for attention."

John: "Yes, and you came over to me, looking like the sexual predator you are."

Jake: "Damn right I did. I was so ready to claim your ass again."

John: "You didn't waste any time, either. You pushed me down on the couch and climbed on top of me, your hard cock pressing against my stomach."

Jake: "I couldn't help it. I wanted to feel your body against mine. And fuck, your cock felt so good against me."

John: "Then you started kissing me. Your tongue invaded my mouth, and I could taste the desire on your breath."

Jake: "I was so fucking horny, brother. I needed to be inside you."

John: "I know, and I was more than willing to let you have me. You know how much I love the way you fuck me."

Jake: "Oh, I know. And I make sure to give you exactly what you want."

John: "Yes, you do. You always make sure to prepare my ass before you fuck me. You lick my hole, making it nice and wet for your cock."

Jake: "That's right, brother. I want to make sure your ass is ready for me. I want to hear you moan and beg for my cock."

John: "And you do. You always make me beg for it. And when you finally push your cock inside me, it feels so fucking good."

Jake: "I love the way your ass clenches around my cock, brother. It feels like a tight, warm glove, just for me."

John: "And when you start to fuck me, I can't help but moan and beg for more."

Jake: "That's because I know how to give you exactly what you need, brother. I fuck you hard and deep, just the way you like it."

John: "Yes, you do. And when you're about to cum, you always pull out and shoot your load all over my face and chest."

Jake: "That's right, brother. I love to cover you in my cum. It's a reminder of who owns your ass."

John: "I know, and I love it. I love the way your cum tastes and feels on my skin."

Jake: "And then, after I've cum all over you, I always make you clean up the mess with your tongue."

John: "Yes, and I always do it willingly. I love the taste of your cum, and it's a small price to pay for the pleasure you give me."

As I listened to their conversation, my cock throbbed in its cage, eager to be released. I knew that I would be allowed to clean up the mess once they were done. But for now, I sat quietly, my eyes transfixed on the sight of Jake dominating John on the couch.

Jake: "Alright, brother. I'll let you get up now."

John: "Thank you, Jake. You always know how to fuck me just right."

Jake: "That's because I love you, brother. And I love your tight little ass."

John: "I love you too, Jake. And I love the way you fuck me."

As John pulled his pants back on, Jake turned to me with a wicked grin on his face.

Jake: "Alright, Dad. It's time for you to clean up the mess."

I nodded obediently, knowing what was expected of me. I crawled over to the couch on my hands and knees, my eyes locked on the sight of Jake's cum still glistening on John's chest and face.

Jake: "Now, clean up every last drop, Dad. And make sure you lick it all up."

I leaned forward, my tongue extending to gather up the first bit of Jake's cum. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste of my son's seed on my tongue. As I continued to lick up his cum, I felt a sense of pride and submission, knowing that this was my role in the family.

Jake: "That's it, Dad. Make sure you get it all."

John: "Yeah, Dad. Make sure you clean up every last drop."

I continued to lick up Jake's cum, my tongue working diligently to gather up every last bit. As I finished, I looked up at Jake and John, my eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and submission.

Jake: "Good job, Dad. Now go back to your seat and wait for us to call on you again."

I nodded obediently, my place in the family hierarchy firmly established. I returned to my seat, my cock still straining in its cage, eager for the next time I would be allowed to clean up the mess.

For more follow @xxxstudssss

[lilghostiequinni]

Was Never Just You

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Single Mom!Girlfriend!female reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: Somethings just start in a crisis, but it's not always a bad thing.

Requested: NO / yes

When you met Lando it was by complete accident.

The day started out normal and then later turned into a disaster.

Your sons, well, they wandered off.

It was the first winter vacation for the ski lodge you normally go to that they could come with, the boys were 3, having turned three the day you left for the trip.

But your mom didn't ski or snowboard and volunteered to watch them while you, your siblings, siblings-in-law, and your father had hit the slopes.

You snowboarding and racing two of your three older brothers, both also snowboarding, down one of their bigger slopes, you won, of course, maybe using some blackmail tactics, maybe.

When you got to the bottom of the slope after the fourth or fifth time, you went to see your boys and also got a warm drink.

You found your mother and your eldest brother's wife, who ended up staying behind because she wasn't feeling good, searching around the lobby; when your mom saw you, you could see the panic and fear in her eyes.

When you asked what was wrong, she told you that they and the boys were playing hide-and-seek, but they couldn't find the boys, and they had searched the whole inside of the resort.

When she told you how long she had been looking for your two sons, over an hour and a half.

You shred your winter gear faster than ever, leaving everything in the lobby, running around the hotel in just your socks, and having no shoes or slippers in the lobby to wear from leaving your boots there.

You ran through every floor calling your sons' names, "Theodore. Sebastian." You would knock on doors, holding up a photo of your two trouble twins if someone answered the door, asking if they had seen them.

You went from floor to floor and back down again.

On you, probably the third pass on the third floor, you ran into someone, expecting to feel the floor but instead feel the body of the person you ran into.

"I'm so so sorry." You apologize as you stand up, before trying to help the person you knocked over.

"It's okay," The man says as you help him stand and he takes off his hat and goggles.

"No, it's not, I'm sorry. I'm just looking for my twins, Theo and Seb. They were playing hide-in-seek with my mom and they... Well, they hid a little too good, and they have been missing for a couple hours." You explain, worrying even more when you realize the time.

"Maybe I can help. Let me change, and we will look together. Two sets of eyes are better than one, I can even get my girlfriend, she's just in this room." The man told you.

"You want to help me?" You were so distraught that you couldn't fathom that someone other than your family would help.

"Yeah, it's just kids. And I'm sure that my girlfriend will say the same. Just breathe and give me like ten minutes." He says, then goes into his room, and you start to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your overactive mind.

Before the ten minutes are even up, you hear the door open and look up, it's a blonde woman who comes out and gives you a hoodie.

"This is one of our friends, I'm Pietra, and this is Max." She says as Max comes out of the room.

"Everyone just calls me Cookie. My boys, they're only 3." You say as you show the two a photo of them from your phone, tears in your eyes.

Max's eyes widen a little. "I think I know where your boys are."

"Really." You ask, your eyes widening.

"Yeah, I think they're downstairs with my friend, in the restaurant," Max tells you as Pietra grabs hold of your hand as MAx leads the two of you downstairs.

When you do get back downstairs and into the restaurant, you look around and then see Max pointing in a direction that you follow with your eyes and you see your boys.

"Theo! Seb!" You cry out and run toward them.

Your boys whip their heads around and yell out, "Mommy!" getting up and then running to you, not making it far from the table, though.

The friend of Max's following behind, just in case.

You fell to the ground to hug your twins, tears in your eyes as you hugged them.

"Where did you go?" You asked them.

"We was play seek with Gramam and Celi."

"Then we was hungry an fogot."

"Den Lanwo saws us and we gots food."

You knew their explanation was too little to be something for them to be missing just shy of three hours.

You must have looked in the restaurant three times.

But you just smiled at them and hugged them again, before standing up.

"Hi, thank you for looking after my sons." You say to the man who had also been at the table with them.

"It's no problem. I saw them on my way to my room from outside, and I figured that their mom would be with them soon. When I came back down for some food, I saw them close to the door looking out the window. One was trying to open the door, and I stopped them from going outside and offered food until you got here." He explained himself.

"Thank you again...."

"Lando. Norris. Lando Norris." He said as he offered his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Lando, everyone calls me Cookie." You said taking his hand.

That's how it started.

One singular mishap that had led to the best years of your life.

The fans were skeptical at best at first, but when they seen the smile that your sons brought to Lando's face, that you brought to him.

How you helped lift the weight off his shoulders.

At the end of the 2025 season, you basically jumped over the barrier to get to Lando after he won the championship.

He picked you up and spun you around.

He had to leave to go to the podium and do other after-race debriefs and media duties.

During December, not long after the end of the season, you and Lando both post a post on Instagram with two photos, one an engagement photo, the other a pregnancy annoucement.

Just like the year before with Max, there were retirement rumors the year before.

But when Lando came back in 2026, the rumors died out.

Life continued on, and the season was one of the best for him, only after his first wins.

A/N: First in the 100 Follower Cele Driver poll, I feel like I wanna redo this and make it longer but at the same time, most of my celebrations are usually just drabbles. But let me know if you'd want a longer fic using this idea

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @scopeiguess @01rrdbull @charli123456789 @smashcrabsblog @hadids-world @amz824 @taetae-armyyyyy @watermelonslut @gigicisneros @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[wandixx]

Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures

I realized I posted a teaser and never really followed up on it, so here is some more of that

“Hey, Dami?”

Boy hadn’t looked up from the kittens he was bottle feeding but let out a hum indicating he listened.

“I'm thinking about trying out a more girlish style. Do you think it would suit me?”

Well, Damian had no idea but if Dani wished to give it a chance, then, well, the only proper reaction was to offer his aid.

*-*-*

“Father, I require access to your rouge gallery.”

Bruce almost choked on his breakfast when his youngest made this announcement.

Rouge gallery, as his children playfully called it, was vast collection of lipsticks, which he collected to uphold his Brucie persona. Famous playboy with head constantly in the clouds couldn’t not show up with discreet signs of scandal from time to time. And it couldn’t always be the same shade. Or scent when he choose more subtle approach and used one of his more feminine perfumes.

In all honesty, he enjoyed this.

But that’s not the point, point was that Damian wanted to use it and Bruce needed to know what disaster would fall upon him if he agreed.

“Mind telling me why, chum?”

Dick, who visited Manor for a weekend, barely stifled his laughter while Tim stared at his empty coffee mug like it personally betrayed him. Cass just wore her usual knowing and mischievous smile.

Damian shifted in his chair, hands clenching on butter knife. He was nervous and suddenly Bruce dreaded the answer he was about to hear.

“I don’t see how me sharing this information would change anything. It won’t be used to cause harm to anyone but it’s necessary in the extracurricular project I just started.”

“Dami, what project?” Dick asked, voice oozing with genuine curiosity and excitement. He was almost bouncing.

“I don’t want to disclose it.”

“Is this a hero or civilian type of deal?”

Damian didn’t look any of them in the eyes, both hands clenching on his seat as he kept shifting. Bruce narrowed his eyes. Was his youngest… flustered?

“Civilian”

“Alright, great” Dick swung back with single clap, almost tripping his chair over “I think B won’t have anything against you using his rouge gallery, will he?” Man knew his oldest son well enough to recognize his ‘don’t you dare to disagree’ tone. He was confused but there wasn’t any harm so he nodded with affirmative hum.

“Thank you, Father”

Boy practically inhaled rest of his food and rushed outside. Despite all his training and all his efforts, they clearly saw his excitement. Tim pinched himself and returned to staring at his mug.

“Cass, have you seen what I’ve seen or am I overreacting?” Dick asked, barely restraining his enthusiasm. Girl nodded eagerly, shoving more crumbs into her mouth. Young man cheered, throwing his hands up.

“What have I missed?” Tim mumbled, frowning a little.

“BABY BAT HAS A CRUSH!”

Cass nodded again with wide smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Who were they? What did he know about them? Was Protocol 3r0s started? Did someone run a background check already? What could they do if they somehow hurt Damian? Was this person a risk to their identities? Oh gods, oh no.

He probably will have to do The Talk™.

He always dreaded having The Talk, with any of his kids. He felt The Talk with Damian would be even worse. Understandably so.

“Also sleep in at least three da-”

“Fuck off, dick.”

“Was this insult or-”

His children remained obvious to how much work it meant, cheering and sassing each other like they often did.

*-*-*

Damian did not know how it was possible but he lowered his guard enough to get caught.

"What are you doing?" Brown choked out after they stared at each other for a long moment.

"It does not concern you–"

"You're rummaging through my wardrobe, not many things concern me more and also, that's frickin creepy don't do it to anyone outside of the family"

She did have a point however he was not convinced it would be the correct approach if he shared his plan. Father's wards (even unofficial like Brown) tended to make assumptions and overreact based on these conjectures. Dani wasn't easy to scare off but he didn't want to check if his family would manage. They often did things thought to be impossible.

He tried to get away but the blonde stood fiercely in a door, leaving the window as the only way out. He wasn't this desperate. Yet.

Girl looked more and more angry at his silence. He had to give her some answers.

Now that he actually considered it, she could be a useful asset. She was far better versed in women's fashion and if he phrased it correctly, he wouldn't even need to bribe her. Question was, how should he phrase it?

"I have an acquaintance- I have a friend," he corrected himself "from the animal shelter I volunteer at. She mentioned wanting to try out more 'girlish style' and asked for my opinion. I wanted to see if you had any clothes that would fit her. She is smaller than me so I thought that whatever I take, it wouldn't be missed." 

Brown grinned with an unsettling gleam in her eyes. He suddenly regretted opening his mouth if not coming to this room in the first place. 

"Say no more, I have a plan Demon Child"

[jetblack4realz]

his little girl - yellowstone boys

how the yellowstone boys react to you having their daughter

i think i might make this a series if y'all are interested. i think it'd be cute! i'll do kayce (obvs), rip (ofc), ryan (what a man), lee (we didn't get enough of him), and jimmy (i haven't seen a single thing on here for him, not that there isn't but still)

lmk if you want anything in particular for any or all of these guys! i think it could be fun :)

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

kayce dutton:

when you first got pregnant, you were so certain it was going to be a little boy, and that's what you told kayce. he smiled over at you, hand on your stomach as he shook his head.

"and why's that, baby?" he wondered.

"he's been kicking like a boy, and i've got the skin to show it's a boy. i've always imagined that i'd be a boy mom," you answered with a shrug, leaning into his embrace comfortably. "and we've already got tate. i think it'll be another boy."

and he'd been alright with that. he let you have your dreams of what to name him and how you'd have him and tate match in little cowboy outfits. you even omitted the gender reveal in favor of it being a surprise, but also because you were so certain it was a boy.

but, when that little girl came out, you both were in instant happy tears.

kayce held her first due to some complications during birth, and he suddenly remembered the joy that came with being a father. as he stared down at his baby girl with eyes that matched his, he was flooded with a certain protectiveness that didn't come with tate. this was his little girl - nobody was going to mess with her.

to say she was spoiled by her daddy was an understatement. there wasn't a day that he didn't come home with a new handful of wildflowers, one for each of his girls, and sit on the floor having her explain all her little drawings to him. when tate would mess with her, teasing as a good older brother would, kayce would give him a stern shake of his head, holding her close to his chest as she sniffled.

"she ain't a boy, bud," he told him. "i know she's your sister and you wanna tease her, but you gotta treat her like a lady."

"i just wanna make her laugh," tate defended.

"find another way, okay pal? there's a million ways to make her laugh and only a few to make her cry. let's figure that out, alright?" he said, pulling the boy into his side for a hug. tate looked at his sister, thinking for a moment before making a funny face, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes as he pulled his mouth at a funny angle. she burst into a fit of giggles, kayce high-fiving him as she clambered out of his lap to go play with her older brother.

you had to be the one to teach her to rope and ride, ensuring she had the true makings of a cowgirl because kayce did not want that life for her. he hoped that she wouldn't ever end up with a cowboy. but, once she knew how to ride well enough, he'd take her on long rides with him and tate, explaining the beauties of montana to them both.

he first bought her a dress from a little boutique in town and a matching bow to go with it when she was five, beyond excited to dress her in it and take her out on a daddy daughter date. you took tate on a mommy son date that same night, smiling as you saw your husband and daughter eating ice cream through the store window as tate dragged you to the theater down the street.

kayce stayed protective, but supportive of what she wanted - except for when she started getting cutesy around the newest ranch hand rip had let stick around, a kid called carter. kayce nipped that one in the bud real fast.

he thrived as a father, it was his true calling, with both tate and your little girl. having both felt like his life had equalled out and he ensured they had a close bond as well. kayce isn't a girl dad or a boy dad, he's just a dad, and he loves it.

rip wheeler:

rip would never admit it, but whenever he imagined finding a girl, settling down, and starting a family, it was always filled with daughters. it was easy to assume that he'd want all boys - he was one of the most manly men montana had ever seen. but, with that, he felt a need to have girls to protect, to be strong for.

so when that first baby ended up a girl, he was silently ecstatic.

"baby, it's a girl," he mumbled to you, his smile the widest you'd seen it since your wedding day.

he was so supportive during labor, petting your hair out of your face as you squeezed his hand tightly. when your little girl finally started crying, he took her straight from the doctor and set her on your chest, one hand on your arm and the other on the baby's back.

he watched over the both of y'all carefully. it was obvious to everyone that you were his number one priorities, and if anyone so much as mentioned your names with the wrong tone he was ready to fight.

rip started taking her out on rides as soon as she was able to be strapped to his chest and sit on a horse without crying, which was actually awfully early. you told him it was only because she was his daughter that he was able to do this, but they both loved it. she was an expert rider by the time she was eight years old, and a good roper too.

you had two twin girls after her, both absolutely adored by rip and their older sister. you were able to go on family rides at that point, you and rip with each one of the littles in front of you and your oldest perched behind rip with wide wondering eyes.

"daddy, an eagle!" she cheered, pointing over his shoulder at a bald eagle flying over the trees.

"good eye, baby," rip said, smiling as he high-fived the little girl.

she quickly became his right hand man. even at four years old, she was grabbing him a banana for breakfast before he headed out the door or helping him clean his boots. the older she got, the more responsibility she got, which was fine by her. she was strong and determined and a total daddy's girl.

until she became a brother's girl.

carter showed up when she was seven and she fell in love with him quickly. he was sweet with her, carrying her on his back out to the barn as she helped him shovel stalls the best she could.

rip didn't know how to feel about it until you finally approached him about adopting carter.

"it wouldn't be anything official since neither of y'all have any documentation or anything," you told him, fiddling with your fingers. "but, that boy needs a home. and rip, i really love him, and so does she, and so do you. we've got one extra room and a place at the table. i want him here. you've seen him with our baby girl, he wants to be a part of this family too. please, rip."

and so that was that. after you sat the boy down and told him, he became even more dependable. he was an avid protector of your daughter and rip actually began smiling at the sight of the two of them walking around the ranch.

rip didn't love carter the same way he loved his baby girl, he was always meant to be a girl dad, but he appreciated him nonetheless. the way he was with rip's daughters helped secure him in the little wheeler family, and rip was happy about it.

ryan:

ryan was in no way prepared to be a father. when you told him you were pregnant he about shat himself.

"but we used protection," he said, eyes wide as he paced the bunkhouse.

"well, quite obviously it didn't work," you said. you grabbed his arms. "ryan, hun, it'll be okay. okay? it'll all work out, we'll figure it out."

"i don't have anything for you. i can't do anything for you. i don't have a house for myself, i barely have my own truck, i make enough to live but i don't know how to provide for you," he stressed.

"we'll figure it out," you emphasized again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

and you did. with how long ryan had been working on the yellowstone ranch and how close your family was to the duttons (how you'd met ryan, actually), john gave you space in the main house to take care of you new little girl - heavens knew there was enough room, he barely even noticed you were there. he, himself, was kind of obsessed with the idea of having another pseudo grandchild, and ryan was convinced that was the only reason he worked it all out for y'all.

ryan was a nervous father. he was uber careful, keeping constant eyes on the baby or whoever was holding her. ninety percent of the time, that person was himself. he barely even let colby hold her and he cursed out jimmy when he asked, saying how he wasn't about to let that dumbass, brain-injured, bronco-riding klutz of a rodeo star hold his precious baby girl and drop her on her head just like his parents had done to him, obviously.

everyone had a good laugh about that one.

your little girl wasn't around the horses or cows, or even a damn rope for so much of her life, but what she was around was poker. ryan had her in his lap as they played cards since she was a month old and not sleeping through the night. somehow, impeccably, she went down without a fuss after sitting through a few games of cards with her father and his friends.

when she got a bit older, he taught her all his favorite childhood card games, but she got bored of them. when you first walked in on him explaining poker to her, you about smacked him upside the head, but when you saw her smiling and figuring out the order of the cards you let it slide.

"she'll be cheatin' out the rest of us in no time," ryan said, running a hand over her hair as he smiled up at you.

"whatever you say, cowboy," you sighed, sitting next to her and picking at the chips he'd laid out for her.

for her tenth birthday, he threw her a poker party with the rest of the wranglers, the duttons, tate, and carter, with ibc rootbeers in a cooler to make her feel just as cool as the rest of them. it was the first time she'd played with anyone but her parents, and she was stoked.

she smoked their asses.

they were freaking flabbergasted, even ryan. he pressed a kiss to her head, laughing as he congratulated her. "that's my kid, everybody."

lee dutton:

lee never wanted kids.

he knew it, you knew it, john knew it, hell, the whole family knew it. it was never in his plan.

but, you also weren't in his plan. he'd had a perfectly organized idea of being the forever bachelor of the yellowstone, hitting up bars for quick girls when he wanted a makeout or one night stand or whatever, and then returning to life on the ranch.

well, you showed up, a horse trainer from the sixes, travis wheatley's little sister, and he fell in love so fast he almost tripped over his feet. he rushed into dating you, proposing, and marrying you but no one in montana had any complaints, except for maybe your father, but he was in texas so it didn't matter in the long run. and he also, accidentally, rushed into getting you pregnant, which was not the goal at all.

"i know, and i'm sorry, but i'm keeping it, baby," you'd told him the night he found the test. you held his face in your hands, brows furrowed. "i want this. i hope you can understand that."

"i never wanted kids," he told you, shaking his head and breathing out a deep sigh. "but, uh, with you? with you, i'm not so opposed." he looked up at you, mustering a small, almost scared smile. "hell, we're already here, ain't we? let's fuckin do this thing, baby."

"language, lee," you laughed.

his mind was blown when you gave birth, absolutely scared and amazed out of his mind when the nurse handed over this perfect, slightly messy, bundle of pink blankets screaming bloody murder to him as they cleaned you up.

"holy shit," he muttered, staring down at his daughter with wide eyes.

"language, lee," you groaned, sitting up and reaching out for the baby. he handed her to you immediately, watching the both of you carefully.

his world changed that day.

as soon as you were ready to let her out of the house, he took her everywhere with him, and he was not ashamed about it. the strap-on baby carrier was his best friend as he walked around the house, grabbing her nursing bottles before heading out to the barn. john laughed when he saw him the first time.

"and what the hell are you doing? you can't cowboy with a baby, lee," he told his eldest.

"watch me," was his answer.

you didn't know he was doing all this, only being told that he'd take her out while you got some rest or did whatever you needed to get done. it was nice to have little breaks throughout the day, but you worried if she was hungry. well, until you saw the little bottle holster he'd made himself that he kept strapped to his side.

you almost thought it was ridiculous, but it was the best possible outcome you could've hoped for, so you let him take her out every few days.

that girl was practically a cowboy by the time she was five years old. she knew all the terms, had her own boots, was dressed in the same wranglers and carhartts as her dad and grandpa, and always was begging for a horse. she wasn't allowed quite yet, but lee promised her she'd get one eventually.

he took her out hunting with him basically her whole life, teaching her the sacredness and also the practicality of it. she became obsessed with guns when she was eight, something you became especially worried about. you made him put extra locks on each case and then on the safe, the fear of her getting into them eating you alive. she complained about not being able to get a tag until she was twelve, but you thanked the state for it.

lee, of course, found a workaround where she began shooting bucks as big as the bed of his truck when she was only ten because it was on the dutton property - who was going to know? if she could love him anymore than she already did, she definitely did after that.

you kept it to the one kid, knowing she was all lee could really handle. and you were both happy to have her be the center of your worlds. and as much as some traditional montanans might argue that dutton ranch's succession should be male, anyone who met your daughter knew that that little ten year old was as much a cowboy as anyone on the ranch, following in the large footsteps of her grandpa and father with exactness.

jimmy:

jimmy was ecstatic when he learned you were pregnant, as nervous as it made him too. everything in his life was starting to work out; he'd figured out his dream job - to be a horse trainer, he had a good job, y'all had just gotten married, and he bought his first house right by the sixes.

"this is perfect," he told you, kissing your forehead as he smile widely. "everything is so perfect now, darlin'."

when you learned it was a girl that day at the doctor's office, he was even more ecstatic.

"our little cowgirl," you told him as he pulled you into his side.

"our little cowgirl," he nodded, a certain proud smile on his lips as he thought about what it'd be like raising a little cowgirl as a real cowboy now himself.

now that he had money, and good money too, he let himself go out and buy the baby all sorts of things, from cow printed blankets to little stuffed horses. you laughed when he came home one day with tiny little baby boots.

he put them on her as soon as she'd grown enough to give him the chance. he held her hands as he walked her around the room, the small girl bouncing a bit as she situated in her boots.

"i know they're kinda funny, hun," he hummed to her as she walked with him. "but, they're actually the best sort of shoe. you're gonna love 'em."

his favorite part of the day had always been coming home to you, but it was even better now that he had two people to come home to. and she loved her daddy, babbling with that big baby smile as she crawled to him. he'd always scoop her up into his arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek before walking through the rest of the house to find you.

he told her stories about the yellowstone ranch when he tucked her into bed, her favorite black and white spotted stuffed horse in her arms as she gazed up at him with a smile and big hazel eyes that mirrored his own.

when she got older, you started bringing her down to the arena to show her what exactly her daddy did. at that point, he was on travis' main team of show horse trainers, and he was happy to show off for his wife and little girl. she was always excited to watch him, hanging off the fence with a wide grin as you stood behind her, waving at your husband just as travis yelled at him to get back to work. it was the first time jimmy had ever really talked back to him, yelling not to curse when his daughter was around. travis never did it again and began to show off for the eight year old when she was around too.

she was spunky, way spunkier than jimmy was ready for and sassier than he ever had been. "she gets this from you."

when she went to travis asking for her own horse and better lessons, her brows raised and arms crossed over her chest, jimmy nearly had a heart attack. he dismounted his horse, crossing to his daughter but not making it before travis responded.

"what do i get if i do? horses aren't free, you know."

"a new trainer," she answered, nodding at him firmly. "i've seen y'all do this my whole life. i've rode my whole life. just gimme a shot."

at the ripe age of ten, she'd managed to convince travis wheaton to give her a horse, let her dad teach her, and the opportunity to stay on as she trained. travis laughed when he passed jimmy, shaking his head. "i hate to break it to you, but she ain't your kid, jimmy."

jimmy breathed a sigh of relief before he pulled her up onto his horse, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"you've really got to talk to me about things like that before you just do it," he said. "that's my boss, you know that?"

"he ain't my boss," she laughed, kissing her dad on the cheek.

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

thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

[thethronezone]

High Consort Pt. 3

Like mentioned in previous parts, you have a Custodi bodyguard. But you also have a whole guard of Custodes assigned to guard you, on orders of the Emperor of course. Your Custodi bodyguard just so happens to be the captain of this guard and the one that's always directly by your side. Because of this, you are quite close. So what if they work for your husband? So does every other bitch in the Imperium!

Whenever the Emperor leaves for the Great Crusade, it's up to you and Malcador to hold down the fort and make sure that everyone stay in line, both on Terra and beyond. You especially are seen as an extension of the Emperor and his will. This means a lot of public appearances on your part, with you flanked by your personal guard. Your presence reminds people that while the Emperor may be off planet and busy elsewhere, he is still aware of everything that's going on.

Because of this, you rarely leave Terra, or at least the star system. You might visit Luna or Mars every now and then but it's very rare that you venture to another part of the galaxy. You are needed where you are, providing a sense of stability in the heart of the Imperium.

Some people (mostly nobles) believe that, just cause you're not an incredibly buff, 4 meter tall, armored super-psyker that you are for some reason easier deal with, easier to push around. WRONG. You are both equally as terrible, sorry not sorry. The Emperor is unapproachable and straight up railroads every conversation while you just don't give a shit. You are older than most noble's bloodlines, at some point their rules just stop applying to you. The one big difference between you and Big E is that you at least try to act like a normal person, he doesn't, so people just find it easier to approach you.

There's also a belief that since you are HIGH Consort, that the Emperor is open to getting more consorts/concubines. At first this assumption was funny, the two of you had a good laugh about it. Then people kept trying to marry off their family members to him, accosting him at events, sending letters and some downright begging on their knees for him to accept one of their sons of daughters. Then only you were laughing. And Malcador, of course. He also found it all very funny.

Sometimes, when people want something from the Emperor or want to meet him, they try to get through you first. Butter you up so that you will put in a few good words for them to your husband. You might humor them for a short while, pretending to be as shallow as they appear to think you are, but the moment they no longer amuse you or step out of line you'll give your Custodi bodyguard a look that they know well. It means "I am tired of their chatter, remove them from my presence and if they ever try to approach me again, don't let them." You might be immortal but you won't waste your time on people you don't like.

A family can be a super-human psyker, his consort, their unmarried friend, their 10 000 strong personal army, their 20 18 super-human children and their respective super-soldier legions.

Half the Primarchs look at your and the Emperor's marriage and go "aww, so that's what true love looks like" and the other half goes "why haven't you DIVORCED this man yet?" Mortarion, Angron, and Perturabo full on believe you have Stockholm Syndrome or something.

Meanwhile, Lorgar, Horus and Lion think this is the perfect marriage, like, this is what everyone should strive for. Lorgar has written sermons about it and called it the "most divine and holy union in the galaxy". Would threaten to crucify himself if you and the Emperor ever separated. His legion would join him in solidarity. This is a hostage situation.

[poly-thot-one-piece-edition]

Office Hours

Cisfem!Reader x Shanks x (????)

Also on Wattpad and Ao3

Summary: If Shanks lets you stab him with your pencil you think things between you would improve.

Blame @hannahbarberra162 for this - she wrote the initial exchange between Shanks and the Reader for this first chapter, and has graciously allowed me to run away with it, cackling like the madman I am. <3

CW: Office AU, Enemies to lovers, mdni, so much swearing and even more smut.

Chapter 1: That Asshole

You had a great job.

A wonderful job!

An absolutely fantastic fucking job!

You were the head of Human Resources for a very successful company, and not only did it pay well, but it came with incredible benefits. The company had been founded by Gol D. Roger some fifty years ago, and One Piece Solutions had flourished ever since.

Eventually illness took the original owner’s life, and the company was now run by the friend of his adopted son. Benn Beckman had been best friends with Shanks since they were kids, and while there had been some concerns among people about how Shanks would take his friend being given the company over him, nothing could’ve made the boisterous red-head happier.

Shanks was COO to Beckman’s CEO, and the two worked so well together that One Piece Solutions was an international company with one of the highest ratings in both services offered, and as a place to work.

You’d think being rated one of the best places to work would make the human resources job relatively cushy.

And mostly it was.

With one notable exception, there was hardly anything to be worried about. Hiring processes, and the occasional firing or processing someone leaving the company voluntarily for any number of reasons, was about as complicated as things got. Interpersonal relationships were stable, and aside from a couple mediated scuffles a year at most, there wasn’t much in terms of stress.

And then there was “The Asshole.”

You hated this man’s very existence.

He held the record for number of complaints filed against him. You dealt with him the most, and he never seemed to give a single care. Nothing he did was enough to fire him, but if you could your job would only feel half as busy as it currently did. It wasn’t as though he was truly being protected either, while the CEO was his best friend, his impact on the company had been so lucrative, he’d almost have to blow the building up to do enough damage for it to be worth firing him.

And Shanks wouldn’t do anything like that. You might hate the man, but he wasn’t a vile man. There weren’t any rumors about him having left a bunch of little bastard babies up and down the Grand Line, and no one ever came forward to accuse him of anything hinky.

He was just, well, Shanks. Handsome, smooth, rich, well-loved, jovial, laid-back, and you were pretty sure he’d let the end of the world roll off his back.

You really just wanted to stab him with your pencil.

Speak of the devil, as that fucking asshole Shanks saunters into your office again, his legs crossing. He hands you a cup from the café just down the block. You don't know how he knows, but it's your favorite drink from there. You'll drink it after he leaves, you don't want to give him the satisfaction but also....the chai latte isn't the one giving you more work.

And since it isn’t currently comprised of 50% bourbon by volume, it’s not really going to help you with the work sitting across from you, either.

"What did I do now?" he asks with a grin. You don't return it, eyes moving from the cup to his bright expression. He always seems happy to be in your office. The less you want him there, the happier he seems.

Or he’s always got that infuriating grin on his face and it just appears brighter the less you want to see him. It’s hard to say.

"Employees caught you fucking the new secretary.” Long and Suffering hang from your words like old friends as your eyes look back to that tempting drink before you sigh. “On the copier.”

“Again." You quantify, looking back at him.

There is not the least bit of professionalism left on your face. You can’t fake a smile around Shanks at this point. It wouldn’t matter how much he paid you, what he promised you, or if he even managed to stop being the single most common item in your office aside from yourself.

No power in the whole of the universe was going to get you to smile at Shanks.

"Oh, so we need a new policy about employees staying after hours?" he asks, leaning back further in the comfortable chairs he bought for your office. He said he spent so many hours in your office already, and he wanted to have a better seat for when you gave him his spankings.

That alone was another report.

"No. We already have a policy about not fucking your employees on company property." you deadpan, handing him the report to sign.

He laughs jovially. Your eye twitches.

"Rules were meant to be broken. Maybe you could try it sometime. Might help with your stress." He says easily, signing the paper. The pencil in your hand snaps, but neither of you pay it any mind.

“I’ll take your words into consideration, sir.” You say automatically. If you argued with him he’d try and sway you to his point, and if you admitted to having done so before he’d want all the details.

You couldn’t sort out why he often seemed determined to spend more time in your office. You’d think by this point he’d be sick of being here. He even bought the fancy chairs to make it more bearable.

Setting the paper on your desk, he gives a charming smile. You envision the same smile on his face with a few of his teeth missing and it’s almost enough to make you grin.

You don’t relax until he finally leaves, sinking into your chair. He’d also bought you a nice comfy chair, and considering you sat in it for a good portion of the day, you were grateful. It had felt like a bribe on some level, but Shanks even showed you the work order - he’d had Beckman take care of the process specifically so it couldn’t be taken that way.

You knew the CEO would do a lot for his friend, but you also knew Beckman’s ethics were on a different level. If he slept around as much as Shanks, he did it in a way that left people none the wiser. He was good looking as well, if not in a different way than Shanks, but there was no way you were going to entertain those thoughts either.

Never mind that you were in your own committed relationship, but there was no way that you were going to get tangled up with someone within 7 degrees of separation to Shanks if you could help it.

Taking a sip of your drink you were irritated to find that it was at the perfect temperature. It was something else that always seemed to happen. You never had to wait for a drink to cool, and it was never cold by the time he left.

Even if he peppered you with questions, or told you about details regarding the newest incident that you did not want, nor need, to know. He still managed to leave at a point when your drink was perfect. It wasn’t that the consideration was out of character for him, Shanks was considerate, it was the way it worked out like that every time.

It did nothing but piss you off more.

He was some perfect little playboy who got away with everything, and he was still considerate, good at his job, and not an utter waste of space. He was easy to like, and if you didn’t have to deal with him as the head of HR you might actually like him. You could see being friends with him at the bare minimum.

Maybe next time you’d ask him if he’d let you stab him for the sake of becoming friends.

[biblical-chronicles]

Lullaby

_________________________________________

where the reader's connection with Lennon gives Liam no choice but to make a move.

_________________________________________

As you pulled up to Liam’s house, you glanced at the little bag sitting on the passenger seat, the handles carefully tied in a neat bow. Inside was a small present for Lennon, a scarf you knew he’d been dreaming about since the last time you saw him.

People always joked that you didn’t come around for Liam anymore, but for his son, and you couldn’t deny it—you and Lennon just clicked. Whether it was kicking a football around the back garden or spending hours colouring together, you adored the little lad.

You grabbed the bag and headed to the door, knocking twice before stepping back. It didn’t take long for the door to swing open, revealing Liam in his usual slightly disheveled state. He leaned against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, well, what’s this then? A gift for me?”

You rolled your eyes, holding the bag up with a grin. “Not for you mate, this is for Lennon. Last time I was here, he mentioned he wanted a Man City scarf, like the ones we saw all the fans have on the telly during the derby. Couldn’t resist.”

Liam’s smirk deepened, his eyes flicking from the bag to your face. “Right soft spot you’ve got for that lad, eh? What’s next? Knittin’ him a jumper?”

Before you could fire back, you heard the sound of small footsteps padding toward the door. “Is that Y/N?” Lennon’s voice carried through the hallway, and seconds later, he appeared, his wide eyes lighting up when he saw you.

You stepped inside, crouching down to meet him with a warm hug. “Hi, sweetheart!” you said, ruffling his hair. “Got summat for you.”

When you handed him the bag his little hands fumbled with the bow before pulling out the scarf, his face lighting up with happiness. Without hesitation, he wrapped it around his neck, though it was much too long, trailing on the floor as he began running in circles around the living room. “Thank you, Y/N!” he called out, his voice full of excitement.

You laughed, watching him dart around the room. “You’re welcome, Lennon. But maybe don’t trip over it, yeah?”

Liam leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. His smirk had softened into something more thoughtful as his gaze flickered between you and his son. “Bloody hell love, you’re makin’ the rest of us look bad. Can’t compete with that.”

“Maybe you should try” you shot back with a wink, and Liam barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

Both of you sat on the couch, brews in hand, talking over the plans for the evening. The group had planned a casual get-together at one of your favourite pubs, and you were both set to leave in a couple of hours.

“Are you ready to go or still need to powder your nose a bit love?” Liam teased, eyeing you over the rim of his cup.

“Oh, don’t worry, mate. If anyone here is getting their nose powdered it's you.” you shot back with a grin, and he laughed, shaking his head.

Before he could come up with another quip, Lennon popped into the room, clutching a box of crayons and a fresh stack of paper. “Y/N, will you draw with me?”

Liam opened his mouth to protest, “Oi, we're talki—”

“Course I will, Lennon,” you interrupted, setting your brew aside and standing up. “We’ve got plenty of time, don’t we, Liam?”

Liam rolled his eyes but waved you off with a smile. “Go on then, Picasso. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya when he runs you ragged.”

Settling at the coffee table Lennon pulled you into his little world. The two of you got to work, the crayons were thrown around as you sketched and coloured alongside him. Every so often, he’d glance at your paper and nod approvingly, though he was careful to keep his own drawing hidden.

“What’re you making, then?” you asked, craning your neck to sneak a peek.

Lennon quickly shielded the page with his arms, his brow furrowed in mock seriousness. “You’ll see when it’s done. No peeking!”

You and Liam exchanged a look, both of you laughing at his theatrics.

After another twenty minutes, Lennon sat back, beaming with pride. “Finished!” he announced, holding up his masterpiece for both of you to see.

Your breath hitched. On the page were three figures drawn in a rather messy manner but it was possible to make out that it was Lennon in the middle with Liam on one side and you on the other. The three of you were holding hands, standing in front of what was unmistakably Liam’s house.

Liam’s teasing smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by a stunned silence. Your face flushed red as you stared at the drawing, your heart thudding in your chest.

“Oh, Lennon,” you managed, forcing a smile so he wouldn’t think he’d done anything wrong. “It’s beautiful. Look at that detail—you’ve really outdone yourself.”

“You like it?” Lennon asked, his eyes shining.

“Of course I do!” you assured him, pulling him into a hug. “It’s amazing, sweetheart.”

He hugged you back tightly, his small arms wrapped around your neck. “Can we put it on the fridge? With the others?”

You nodded, still feeling the warmth in your cheeks. “Absolutely. Let’s go find a magnet for it.”

Lennon grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the kitchen, the drawing clutched in his other hand. Liam remained on the couch, watching you both disappear down the hallway.

As he stared after you, something twisted in his chest. Watching you with Lennon—how natural it seemed, how much joy you brought him—was almost too much to process. And now, seeing you in Lennon’s drawing, as if you were already part of the family...

Liam leaned back, running a hand through his hair. He felt that familiar warm ache in his chest, the same one that had been creeping in every time he saw the two of you together.

He was still lost in thought when the nanny arrived, just as you were putting on your coat and getting ready to leave. Lennon, of course, wasn’t too thrilled about it, standing at the door with his little arms crossed.

“C’mon, mate,” Liam said, ruffling his hair. “She’s sound, yeah? Just be good to her. We won’t be gone long.”

You crouched down, your voice softening as you spoke. “I’ll bring you back some chips, okay? But only if you behave.”

That did the trick. Lennon’s pout disappeared, replaced by a grin as he clapped his hands together. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you said, holding out your pinky for him to link his with.

On the drive to the pub, you and Liam fell into the usual rhythm—teasing, laughing, winding each other up over the silliest things. By the time you got there, the warm glow of the place made it easy to settle in.

The two of you had joined a table with a few of Liam’s mates, sharing a plate of chips while Liam nursed his pint.

“Y’gonna share those, or am I supposed to starve?” he asked, nudging the plate toward himself.

You rolled your eyes, sliding it closer to him. “Didn’t realize I was babysitting two kids tonight.”

He snorted, smirking. “Cheeky.”

The night carried on like that for a while, the noise and laughter of the pub filling the space around you until Liam’s phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced at the screen, his expression softening when he saw Lennon’s name. “One sec,” he said, swiping to answer. “Alright, lad, what’s up? Everything okay?”

Whatever Lennon said made him laugh quietly, his tone going all warm and soft in that way it only did for his son. “Yeah, she’s here. Hang on.” He held the phone out to you with a smirk. “He wants you.”

You blinked in surprise but took the phone. “Hi sweetheart! What’s going on?”

Liam leaned back, watching as your face lit up while you listened. Whatever Lennon was saying had you grinning and nodding along, your voice dipping into that gentle tone you always seemed to have for him.

Then you covered the mic with your hand and turned to Liam. “He wants me to sing him a lullaby so he can fall asleep. I’ll just step outside—it’s too loud in here.”

Liam chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course he does. Go on then.”

You flashed him a quick smile before weaving through the crowd toward the front door. Even as you left Liam’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d been standing, his mind suddenly too loud for the noise of the pub to drown out.

He tipped his head back, letting out a quiet breath.

It wasn’t just that Lennon adored you. It was the way you lit up every time you saw him, the way you gave him your full attention, like he was the most important kid in the world. And it wasn’t just with Lennon, it was with Liam too.

You’d slipped into his life so naturally, like you were always meant to be there. From the banter to the laughs to the quiet moments that didn’t need words—it all felt just right.

And now his son was calling you for lullabies instead of him. If that didn’t spell it out, he didn’t know what would.

With a muttered excuse to the table, Liam pushed his chair back and stood. He didn’t have a plan, didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he couldn’t sit there any longer.

You lowered the phone from your ear, a soft smile lingering on your face as you finished the call. “Alright, love, get some sleep, yeah? Sweet dreams.” With that, you hung up and turned, startled to find Liam standing there in the cool night air.

“Oh, hi, Liam,” you said, tucking his phone into your pocket. “Didn’t realize you came out.”

He stood a few steps away, hands shoved into his coat pockets, his usual smirk replaced by something more uncertain. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, he just stood there, as though working up the nerve to speak.

“I—uh, I know this might be a bit sudden,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. He cleared his throat, glancing away before meeting your gaze again. “But I need to say it. I can’t keep just thinkin’ it and not doin’ owt about it.”

You tilted your head, your heart already picking up pace. “Liam?”

“I’ve been a bit daft, haven’t I?” he said with a nervous laugh. “You’re always ‘round, yeah? Always there for Lennon, for me, and it’s not just that you’re good with him, It’s the way you make everything… brighter. Easier. And I’ve been sat there, thinkin’ I can’t bottle this by sayin’ summat stupid, but I can’t keep quiet no more. I’m quite mad about you, love. Have been for ages.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the warmth of his words washing over you. For a moment, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing.

When you didn’t speak right away, Liam shifted on his feet, suddenly looking nervous. “If that’s too much, I get it. Just—”

“Yes,” you interrupted, your voice soft but firm.

He blinked, his brows lifting. “What?”

“Yes,” you repeated, stepping closer. “I feel the same, Liam. I’ve just been too scared to ruin what we already have.”

A grin broke across his face and before you could say another word, his hands were on your face, pulling you into a kiss. It was slow at first, but quickly deepened, all the unspoken feelings and tension from the past months spilling over.

Your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips moved against yours, soft yet insistent.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together as Liam chuckled, his voice warm and full of affection. “Well, that was long overdue, eh?”

You laughed, still feeling the heat of his lips on yours. “Just a bit.”

He leaned back slightly, his hands still on your waist as his grin turned cheeky. “Y’know, Lennon’s gonna lose it when he finds out. The kid’ll be over the moon.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought, your heart swelling. “Think so?”

“Think so?” he echoed with a laugh. “Are you mad? He’ll probably start plannin’ the weddin’.”

You swatted his arm, but the happiness in his voice was infectious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him into another kiss.

_________________________________________

awwwww I love this kind of trope !! kinda want to write summat similar but for Noel, it's just so dead cute xx

per usual big up to the one and only @shes-thunderstormssss her story requesting mind knows no boundaries, love ya so much xx

[xomakara]

When I Fall [Part 1]

SUMMARY | You're trapped in a loveless and childless marriage to Taeho, a divorced older man that is a friend of your father's. After fifteen years of marriage and no children of your own, Taeho starts to see other women since you're past your prime and can't give him heirs. One night, tired of your husband and his emotional abuse, you go out with some friends, get shit-faced drunk, and meet Jongho, a man fifteen years younger than you, that will change your life forever.

PAIRINGS |  Jongho x Reader

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE |  smut, angst, drama 

CONTENT/WARNINGS | age-gap, step-cest, cheating, mentions of control and emotional abuse, mentions of drinking, profanity/strong language, kissing, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, vaginal penetration, fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, pregnancy, scandals

LENGTH |  11,110 words

TAGLIST |  @desirehorizon @sweetinsaniiity

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

@othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety @dove-net

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  This was originally supposed to be a oneshot but thanks @kwanisms for beta-reading  and suggesting to make it a two shot instead. The ending was originally too rushed so having it be a 2-parter will let me be able to flesh the plot for the second half to be just as dramatic and scandalous as this part so I hope you come to read it! Also thank you @kpop---scenarios for beta-reading the original fic and also giving me some suggestions to add as well! Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for the lovely banner! I really appreciate all you folks for helping me with the visual aspect and adding ideas~

The wine glass you held shook in your hand, your drink almost spilling into your lap. You couldn't count how many glasses you’d had tonight. Three? Maybe four? You let out a sigh. It didn't matter anyway. You just wanted to feel nothing. You didn't want to feel Taeho's disdain or the emptiness of a childless, laughterless house.

“Y/N, you okay?” Soojin asked, concerned.

You forced a smile and raised your glass. “Just having fun.” The lie tasted bitter, but you washed it down with more wine.

“You need this,” Jiwoo added. “You’ve been cooped up for ages.”

Ages. Fifteen long years.

Fifteen years of biting your tongue, of forced smiles, and enduring Taeho's cold indifference had chipped away at pieces of yourself you didn't know you could lose. It wasn't always like this at the beginning. Years ago, your family arranged a union between you and Taeho so he could enter the upper echelon of Seoul society. Taeho and his company helped fund your father's political campaign as the mayor. In turn, your father provided Taeho access into a more prestigious social circle. Taeho divorced his wife of nine years at the time, claiming that they fell out of love. But you knew he divorced her since she didn't come from a prominent family such as yours.

You never saw his ex-wife around much after the divorce. You knew he had a son but you only met him once when he was about nine or ten, months after your marriage to Taeho was official. You never saw him again since Taeho sent him abroad for boarding school.

When no children had appeared after five years of trying, Taeho blamed it on you. You tried, oh, you had tried for years. Doctors didn't know why it didn't work and neither did you. You took pills, ate a vegetarian diet, and all sorts of treatments, but Taeho berated you that nothing worked and blamed you for being "barren". He didn't want to divorce you, no you were far too valuable socially, and still could provide him with the perfect home. So while you remained, trapped, he'd fuck other women. You stopped caring, even though the emptiness threatened to consume you whole.

You were exhausted. So exhausted.

“Another round,” you called out, the waiter nodded and disappeared into the crowded bar. The dim lights, the scent of alcohol and perfume, and the sight of bodies pressed together on the dance floor filled you with envy. You longed for their freedom, their carelessness.

Laughter. Yours? Someone else’s? You couldn't care less as you lost yourself in the music, your body moving freely for the first time in years. And then you saw him, taller than you by a few inches, broad-shouldered, with a grin that made your heart skip. He exuded confidence, and his eyes met yours as if he'd been searching for you all night.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth and husky. He was close enough that you could smell the faint hint of cologne mingling with his sweat. Jongho, he introduced himself. All you could focus on was the way his gaze lingered, the way it made heat crawl up your neck.

“Careful,” Soojin whispered in your ear with a teasing tone. “He looks like trouble.”

Good, you thought, your fingers curling around Jongho’s as he pulled you closer. Trouble sounded better than the quiet despair waiting for you at home.

The rest of the night was a blur of touch and sound, of hands roaming and lips brushing against each others. You didn’t think about Taeho. Didn’t think about the consequences. There was only this moment, this man who made you feel wanted in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

When you woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the unfamiliar curtains. Your head throbbed, the taste of last night’s indulgences sour on your tongue. And then you felt it—the warmth of another body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jongho.

You panicked and then everything seem to come back to you. Memories of his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck, the way he’d whispered promises you knew he couldn’t keep. Memories of kissing him nonstop, bouncing on his thick, hardㅡ

You tried to get out of the bedsheets that you were tangled in but his arm tightened around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His breath tickled your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The guilt was already settling in, heavy and suffocating. What have you done?

Jongho propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His expression was soft, almost tender, but there was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Stay,” he said, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just a little longer.”

You shook your head, pulling away from his touch. “I can’t.” 

The weight of what you’d done pressed down on you, the guilt sharp and unrelenting. You needed to go home, to face whatever was waiting for you there.

Jongho’s hand lingered in the air for a moment before he let it drop, his expression shifting into something more neutral. 

“Alright,” he said simply, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. He didn’t press, didn’t try to convince you to stay, and for that, you were grateful. "Can I at least get your number?"

You exchanged phone numbers without hesitation, a tiny voice inside whispering that it was wrong. Despite being married, you'd given your number to a stranger, pretending it was simply to stay in touch. But his smile as he thanked you and left his contact information was so handsome...  

Scrambling out of bed, you searched for your scattered clothes. Jongho's silent gaze followed you, heavy with unspoken words. Fully dressed, you hesitated at the door, your hand on the knob. This had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, and you refused to let it define you.

“Take care of yourself,” Jongho said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost kind, but there was a distance in his tone that hadn’t been there last night.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and opened the door. The hallway outside was dimly lit, the early morning light filtering through the windows at the far end. You stepped out, closing the door behind you, and took a deep breath.

The walk home was a blur, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. What would Taeho say? Would he even notice you’d been gone? The questions gnawed at you, but there were no answers, only the cold reality of what lay ahead.

As you approached your house, the familiar facade loomed like a silent judge. You paused at the gate, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. Time to face the consequences of your actions, whatever they might be.

With a shaky breath, you pushed open the gate and walked inside, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you.

The days after that night with Jongho passed in a haze. Your husband, Taeho, was, as usual, distant and dismissive, barely acknowledging your presence except to criticize or complain. The weight of your guilt pressed down on you, but so did something else—something darker, hungrier, more unsettling. You tried to push it away, bury it under the monotony of your daily routine, but it lingered like a shadow at the edges of your mind.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it casually, expecting another mundane notification. But what you saw made your breath catch in your throat. It was a photo from that handsome man.

Jongho and a photo of his hard cock.

Your eyes widened, and your heart began to race. The image was unmistakable: thick, veined, and erect, resting against a backdrop of plain white sheets. Below it, a message: “Can’t stop thinking about you. Want to meet again?”

You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly. Part of you wanted to delete the message instantly, to pretend it never happened. But another part of you—a part that had been dormant for so long—stirred awake. The memory of that night flooded back: his hands on your skin, his lips against yours, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years.

Before you could stop yourself, you typed a reply: “Why are you doing this?”

The response came almost immediately: “Because I want you. And I think you want me too.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. He wasn’t wrong. The truth clawed at you, undeniable. You wanted him. Craved him. Even now, just the thought of him sent a flicker of heat through your core.

“This is dangerous,” you replied, your fingers moving almost of their own accord.

“So is staying in a marriage that makes you miserable,” he shot back.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t saying anything you hadn’t already thought, but hearing it laid bare like that—it was jarring. You felt exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a strange relief in it, too. Someone else saw it. Someone else knew.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your fingers hesitating over the keys.

“You. Just you,” he answered simply. “Meet me tonight. Let me show you how good it can be.”

Your mind raced. This was insane. Reckless. Dangerous. And yet, the idea of seeing him again—of feeling that fire once more—was intoxicating. You glanced toward the living room, where Taeho sat immersed in his work, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside you.

“Where?” you typed before you could talk yourself out of it.

He sent an address, followed by: “Wear something sexy.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You moved through the motions of dinner and conversation with Taeho, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Later, as you dressed in the dim light of your bedroom, your hands shook as you fastened the clasp of your bra. You chose a simple black dress, one that hugged your curves in all the right places—not too revealing, but enough to make you feel confident. When you added a touch of perfume, your reflection in the mirror looked almost like a stranger.

This is really happening, you thought, your stomach twisting with nerves and anticipation.

You slipped out of the house quietly, leaving Taeho engrossed in his nightly routine. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you walked to the address Jongho had given you. It was a sleek, modern building in a trendy part of town, far removed from the quiet streets you called home.

When you arrived, Jongho was waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “You came,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“I shouldn’t have,” you replied, though the way your body reacted to him—the way your pulse quickened, your skin tingled—said otherwise.

He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over you. “But you did,” he murmured, his hand brushing against yours. “And I’m glad.”

You hesitated, torn between guilt and desire. But when his fingers interlaced with yours, pulling you gently toward the door, you didn’t resist. Inside, the apartment was stylish and minimalist, lit by soft, ambient lighting. He led you to the couch, his touch firm but tender.

“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes lingering on you as you sat down. “Better than I remembered.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. It was deep, hungry, electric. Every nerve in your body came alive, and you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor.

His hands wandered, exploring your body with a confidence that left you weak. He pulled away just long enough to murmur, “Let me see you,” before slowly unzipping your dress. The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling at your waist. His eyes darkened as they roamed over your exposed skin, and his fingers traced the curve of your collarbone.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice raw with desire.

"Wait..." you pushed away from him slightly. "How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-four. Why do you ask?" Jongho answered in a rasp, eyes wandering. "Does that... bother you? That I'm much younger?"

You pursed your lips. You hadn't expected him to be that young. It should've bothered you—after all, Taeho was twenty years older than you were—but there was something alluring about the youthful vigor Jongho possessed.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm fifteen years older than you? You don't want to be with someone more... your age?" you asked cautiously.

"I don't care about our age differences," Jongho shrugged, lifting his index finger and running it down the edge of your jaw.

"It's different though—"

"How? You told me that you're married to someone twenty years older than yourself and he sees other women besides. Tell me how is that any different," he cuts you off with a frown.

He's right. Your husband had affairs left and right while you were home alone, stuck raising yourself. And each time you tried to end things, Taeho would guilt-trip you and say how your father would be disappointed since his political and social ties benefited both yours and Taeho's families. And after so many years, married to your father's friend, you were resigned to living with your unfaithful spouse and being a trophy wife for his events and parties.

Tears fill your eyes at the realization and you suddenly want to feel something other than loneliness.

Jongho tilts his head and reaches out to run his fingertips along the creases of your jaw. He has a curious expression. "What if I can help you forget him for a few hours...?" Jongho husked. "Help take your mind off your troubles."

"Just for a few hours?" you echo, your gaze darkening as the question dances on the edge of your lips. "What if I wanted more...?"

"All you have to do is say the word," he promises.

His smile grows, and the way its slow curve travels across his face sends shivers down your spine. He trails a hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. You feel the warmth radiating from his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, and it makes you dizzy.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours “Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your decisions pressing down on you. But then, the memory of Taeho’s cold indifference floods your mind, and something inside you snaps. The guilt, the shame, the years of loneliness—they all dissolve under Jongho’s gaze.

“I want more,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire.

Jongho doesn’t need any further encouragement. In one swift motion, he lifts you off the ground, his arms strong and sure around you. You let out a startled laugh, but it quickly turns into a gasp as he carries you towards his bedroom. The world blurs around you, and all you can focus on is the way his muscles flex beneath his thin shirt and the warmth of his breath against your neck.

He kicks the door open with his foot and sets you down gently on the edge of his bed. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. You glance around nervously, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of intimacy, and the vulnerability is almost overwhelming.

But Jongho doesn’t give you time to dwell on your fears. He kneels before you, his hands sliding up your thighs and sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and you can see the hunger burning within them.

“Relax,” he says softly, his voice like velvet. “Let me take care of you.”

His hands move higher, pushing your dress up around your hips. You bite your lip, feeling exposed and yet incredibly alive. His touch is deliberate, every movement calculated to drive you wild. When his fingers finally brush against the lace of your panties, you can’t help but moan.

“So sensitive,” he teases, his breath hot against your skin. “I wonder how much more I can make you squirm.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. The sensation is electric, and you involuntarily arch your back, craving more. He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through your body as he continues to trail kisses along your legs.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Is this where you want me?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod frantically, unable to form coherent words. The anticipation is driving you mad, and you can feel the heat pooling between your legs. Satisfied with your response, Jongho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, tossing them aside without a second thought.

The cool air hits your core, making you shiver, but his mouth quickly replaces it, warm and insistent against your most sensitive area. You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as his tongue flicks against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh god,” you moan, your hips bucking against him. “Don’t stop…”

He doesn’t. Instead, he takes you deeper, his tongue exploring every inch of you with expert precision. You’re lost in the sensations, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, and you can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Jongho pulls away, leaving you whimpering in frustration. He stands up, towering over you, and begins to unbutton his shirt. His movements are slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. When the shirt falls to the floor, revealing his toned chest, you can’t help but reach out to trace the lines of his muscles with your fingertips.

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he leans down to kiss you deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips is intoxicating, and you eagerly deepen the kiss, your tongues dancing together in a heated embrace.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both panting, desperate for more. Jongho smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Lie back,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle.

You comply immediately, lying back against the pillows as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out before him, completely vulnerable and utterly irresistible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands running up your sides, tracing the curves of your body. “I could spend hours worshipping you.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a surge of confidence despite your nervousness. Jongho notices your reaction and smiles, leaning down to capture your lips once more. This kiss is softer, more tender, and it makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

As the kiss deepens, his hands continue their exploration, mapping out every inch of your body with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His fingers glide over your breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp into the kiss, your hips instinctively grinding against his.

“Please,” you beg, breaking the kiss to look him in the eye. “I need you… now.”

Jongho groans, his self-control slipping as he positions himself at your entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pull him closer. “Yes. Please, Jongho… don’t make me wait any longer.”

With a final, lingering kiss, he pushes inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your body instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him deeper. He starts to move, slow and steady at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. But soon, the pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. Each one drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder with every passing second.

“You feel incredible,” Jongho growls, his hands gripping your hips as he pounds into you. “So tight… so perfect.”

You can barely think straight, your entire being focused on the sensations coursing through your body. Every nerve feels alight, every movement bringing you closer to the brink. When his fingers find your clit again, rubbing small circles against the sensitive nub, it’s all too much.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure radiate out from your core. Jongho follows close behind, burying his face in your neck as he spills himself inside you, his moans muffled against your skin.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing of two people who have given themselves completely to each other. Then, slowly, Jongho pulls out, collapsing beside you on the bed.

You lie there, your bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow of your passion. But even as you try to catch your breath, a thought lingers in the back of your mind: What happens next?

Jongho seems to sense your uncertainty. He turns to face you, propping himself up on one elbow as he studies your expression.

“Hey,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”

You hesitate, unsure if you should voice your concerns. But the warmth in his eyes encourages you to be honest.

“This… us. What does it mean?” you ask, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

Jongho’s gaze softens, and he pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It means whatever you want it to,” he replies, his tone reassuring. “We can take this as slow or as fast as you need. All that matters is that you’re happy.”

You feel a lump form in your throat, overwhelmed by his kindness and understanding. For the first time in years, you feel truly seen and valued.

But before you can formulate a response, Jongho’s phone buzzes loudly on the nightstand. The sound startles you both, and he reluctantly lets go of you to check the message.

His expression changes as he reads it, his brows furrowing in concern. “I’m sorry,” he says apologetically, “but I need to take this. It’s important.”

You nod, though you can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. As Jongho steps out of the room to answer the call, you’re left alone with your thoughts, wondering if this newfound happiness is too good to last.

"We have that charity gala tonight and it is imperative that you and I are in attendance," Taeho barks at you as he stomps around the living room, pulling items off the end tables and collecting the empty glasses on the coffee table. "We made the commitment months ago and our attendance is required. This is not an optional event."

"I know Taeho," you sipped your coffee and leaned back against the sofa. "Your suit for the gala is hanging in your room and your shoes have been polished. All that's left for you to do is to style your hair and wear the watch and cufflinks that I got you."

"And did you purchase a dress?" Taeho peered at you, placing the empty glasses on the table by the large armchair in front of the fire. "An appropriate one for your status?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and nodded. "I have it all under control," you sighed, "like I always do."

"What a dutiful wife you are," Taeho scoffed sarcastically, giving a half-assed chuckle, before turning serious. "Your father is coming over today to discuss a campaign that has started up with the opposing party. Make sure lunch is at its usual time and the maid has set the dining room accordingly," he huffed, "I don't need your father to chastise me for having a messy home."

"Yes Taeho," you replied, finishing your mug and moving into the kitchen.

When the doorbell rang, you heard Taeho shout for you and you went to open the door for your father. "Hi, daddy," you smiled warmly and leaned in for a hug.

"My little girl," your father chuckled warmly. "You look tired," he whispered to you as the maid took his coat and hat. "A woman of your caliber should always take care of themselves. If you ever need some money for a spa day, let me know," your father sighed softly. "I can only imagine the burdens of maintaining this house."

"Thank you, but that is what I have the maids for," you muttered politely. "Besides, you're busy and need to be taken care of too, daddy."

"Your mother makes sure I have all my meals prepared for me at the right times," he grinned at you and looked past you as Taeho approached. "Ah, Taeho, you look... aged, no offence."

"You too, my friend," Taeho laughed and the men hugged, clapping each other on the back. "I do hope the mayor's job has treated you well over the years."

"It has! Very busy but fulfilling," your father chuckled.

"Good, that's good!" Taeho nodded and moved towards the door to the kitchen. "Well, why don't we discuss some things over lunch hm? Shall we?"

Your father looked at you with concern etched in his wrinkles and nodded slowly. "Will you be joining us, Y/N?" he inquired. "I would love to catch up with my daughter and see what she's been up to."

"Not today, daddy," you shook your head. "I have a lot to prepare for the gala. You two enjoy your meal and I will see you later, alright?"

"Fine," he muttered and kissed the top of your head before following Taeho towards the dining room. "I'll see you later this evening, sweetheart. We will chat more then."

Once Taeho and your father disappeared into the other room, you let out a loud sigh, massaged your temple and made your way towards your bedroom to get ready for the night's charity gala.

Hours later, you stood in front of the mirror adjusting the straps of your emerald green, sparkling evening dress. It clung to your body in all the right places and revealed just enough skin that would turn a man's gaze your way. Taeho hated when you drew too much attention, but tonight, you needed the escape.

"A little form fitting for my taste," Taeho grunted as he fumbled with the buttons of his cufflinks. "But it will do. Come and assist me with the cufflinks."

You stepped into the bedroom and strode over to him. You slipped the first cufflink in and stared at him. "Did you have a nice afternoon with daddy?" you inquired softly, turning his hand gently and securing the second cufflink in place.

"Yes, it was very informative," Taeho grunted. "Nothing to worry your pretty, little head over," Taeho muttered. "Now let us go, I don't want us to be late."

The venue was a sprawling ballroom filled with the city’s elite. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed off the high ceilings, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume. You clung to Taeho’s arm as he schmoozed with donors, forcing yourself to smile and nod at the right moments. His grip on your elbow was firm, almost possessive, and you felt the familiar weight of suffocation pressing down on you.

And then you saw him.

Jongho.

He stood near the bar, dressed in a sleek black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt on its axis. His eyes met yours, and you could tell from the way his jaw tightened that he was just as shocked to see you as you were to see him.

Taeho didn’t seem to notice your reaction. He steered you towards the bar where Jongho was, his voice booming with false cheer. 

“Ah, there he is! My son,” he said, pulling you closer as if to emphasize the word my. “Jongho, come meet my wife.”

Son. 

The word echoed in your head like a cruel joke. Your legs threatened to give out beneath you, but somehow, you managed to stay upright. Jongho approached slowly, his expression unreadable. Up close, you could see the tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hand as he extended it to greet you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly, though his voice held a subtle edge. His fingers brushed against yours, and even that brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. You forced yourself to look away, afraid that one more second of eye contact would betray everything.

“Likewise,” you murmured, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. Taeho, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing between you and Jongho, clapped his son on the back.

“Jongho’s been living abroad for the past few years,” Taeho explained, his tone dripping with pride. “He’s finally decided to come home and take over the family business. Isn’t that right, son?”

Jongho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yes, Father. It’s time I took on more responsibility.”

You felt like you were drowning. The man who had held you in his arms just days ago, the man who had whispered sweet nothings into your ear, was now standing in front of you as your stepson. The irony was almost too much to bear.

The rest of the introductions passed in a haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the heat radiating from Jongho’s body, the way his gaze lingered on you whenever Taeho wasn’t looking. When Taeho excused himself to speak with another donor, you found yourself alone with Jongho.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken questions and desires. Finally, Jongho broke it, his voice low and urgent. “We need to talk.”

You glanced around nervously, making sure no one was watching. “Not here,” you whispered. “It’s too risky.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening again. “Then when? Where?”

You hesitated, torn between fear and longing. “I… I don’t know.”

Jongho stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Don’t shut me out,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Not after what we shared.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to reach out to him, to feel his arms around you once more, but the reality of your situation kept you rooted in place. “Jongho, this… this changes everything.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted, his voice firm. “We can figure this out. Together.”

Before you could respond, Taeho reappeared, his loud voice cutting through the tension. “There you two are! Come, let’s get a photo for the press.”

You forced a smile, allowing Taeho to position you between him and Jongho. As the camera flashed, you felt Jongho’s hand brush against yours, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The contact was fleeting, but it was enough to reignite the fire burning within you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jongho whenever you could. Each time, he seemed to be watching you too, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your heart race. The forbidden nature of your attraction only made it more irresistible, and you knew you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Finally, as the guests began to leave, you spotted Jongho slipping out onto the balcony. Your pulse quickened. Without thinking, you followed him, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat rising in your chest.

He turned as you approached, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. “I was hoping you’d come,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You stepped closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “Jongho, we can’t… this isn’t…”

He cut you off, closing the distance between you in one swift movement. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. How could you deny it when every fiber of your being was screaming for him? Without thinking, you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and desperate. The kiss was electric, sending sparks shooting through every nerve in your body. You melted into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach. His grip on you tightened, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, you realized the gravity of what you’d just done. 

“This… this can’t happen,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.

Jongho’s eyes burned with determination. “It already has,” he replied, his voice fierce. “And it will again.”

The car ride home was stifling. The silence between you and Taeho was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of the evening pressing down on your chest. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, but your mind was elsewhere—on Jongho, on that kiss, on the way his hands had felt against your skin.

Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence. 

“Jongho will be moving in with us,” he said, his voice calm but firm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach dropped. 

“What?” you managed to choke out, tearing your gaze from the window to look at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“He needs a place to stay while he gets settled,” Taeho continued, as if this were some mundane detail about groceries or bills. “And I think it’s time he reconnects with his family.”

The word "family" echoed cruelly in your mind. You wanted to scream, to object, to reveal the truth about that night with Jongho, the message, the balcony. But your throat tightened, silencing you, and you could only swallow hard and nod.

“He’ll start calling you mother,” Taeho added casually, as though he were discussing the weather. “It’s only proper, after all.”

Mother. 

You opened your mouth to argue, to say anything, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you even say? That you couldn’t bear to hear Jongho call you that? That it would remind you of what you’d done, of what you still wanted to do?

You looked away, gripping the edge of your seat so tightly your knuckles turned white. The rest of the ride passed in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional honk of a passing car. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you felt numb, like you were floating outside your body.

Taeho got out first, not waiting for you. You followed slowly, dragging your feet as if delaying the inevitable might somehow change it. Inside, the house was quiet, but there was a new presence in the air—a tension that hadn’t been there before. You hesitated in the foyer, unsure of where to go or what to do.

“Jongho will be here tomorrow,” Taeho said, tossing his keys onto the table. “Make sure his room is ready.”

You nodded quietly, your mind racing. His room. The guest room, the one downstairs, far enough from yours to give the illusion of propriety but close enough to make your heart race. You wondered if Jongho would feel it too—the pull, the magnetism that seemed to draw you together no matter how hard you tried to resist.

That night, sleep was impossible. You tossed and turned, your thoughts consumed by Jongho—his smile, his touch, the way he’d kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered. And now, he’d be living here, under the same roof, calling you mother. It was madness, a cruel twist of fate that you couldn’t escape.

The next morning, you woke up exhausted, your head pounding and your nerves frayed. You dressed quickly, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t want to see the guilt etched into your face, the longing you couldn’t hide.

By mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang, and your heart leapt into your throat. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your skirt before answering the door. There he was, standing on the doorstep with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever.

“Mother,” he said, the word slipping off his tongue like honey, sweet and dangerous. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Jongho,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. He stepped inside, brushing past you, and the air between you crackled with electricity. You closed the door slowly, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The moment you turned around, he was right there, closer than he should have been.

“This is going to be… interesting,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. You shivered, your pulse quickening as his hand brushed against yours.

“We can’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a look, his eyes dark with desire.

“Can’t we?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. You glanced nervously toward the stairs, half-expecting Taeho to appear at any moment, but the house was silent.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out, your fingers grazing his. He responded instantly, his hand closing around yours, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost touching. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

Tell me you don’t want this, his eyes seemed to say, and you knew you couldn’t. Because you did. More than anything. But the rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to push him away, to remember who you were and what was at stake.

But then he kissed you, and all those thoughts evaporated. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding a response you couldn’t deny. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, tangling in his hair. His grip tightened, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you.

When he broke the kiss, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“This is wrong,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.

“Is it?” he asked, his voice husky. He pressed another kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. “Or is it just… inevitable?”

The tension between you and Jongho hung thick in the air, unresolved yet undeniable. Every glance, every accidental brush of hands as you moved through the house felt like a spark waiting to ignite. Taeho’s announcement of a family dinner that evening only deepened the unease.

“Jongho,” Taeho called from the study, his voice carrying an authority that made your stomach knot. “You’ll join us for dinner. I want to discuss the future.”

Jongho glanced at you, his eyes dark with unspoken words. This is dangerous, your mind screamed, but your body betrayed you, heat pooling low in your belly as you remembered the way his lips had claimed yours just hours ago. He nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, Father.”

The day stretched on, each hour crawling by as you tried to keep yourself busy. You straightened the living room, polished the silverware, anything to distract yourself from the storm brewing inside you. And all the while, Jongho lingered, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

By the time dinner rolled around, the table was set immaculately, the aroma of the meal filling the air. Taeho took his place at the head of the table, authoritative as ever, while you sat across from Jongho. The distance felt insurmountable yet too close all at once.

As you passed the dishes, your fingers brushed against Jongho’s, sending a jolt through your system. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, his eyes burning with something primal, something forbidden. You quickly looked away, but the damage was done. 

Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence. 

“I’ve been thinking about our family,” he began, his tone serious. “It’s time we start planning for the future. Jongho will be taking on more responsibilities in the company, and you,” he turned to you, his gaze piercing, “will need to support him as his mother.”

You forced a smile, nodding obediently. “Of course, Taeho.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened, his fork clinking softly against his plate. He didn’t look at you, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable. 

“Father,” he said carefully, “I appreciate your confidence in me. But I’m still learning. There’s no need to rush things.”

Taeho waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You’re more than capable. It’s time we solidify our legacy.”

Dinner dragged on, the conversation stilted and formal. You barely tasted the food, your senses hyper-aware of Jongho’s every move. When Taeho finally pushed his chair back and announced he was retiring to his study, relief flooded you, though it was short-lived.

“Don’t forget to clear the table,” he said as he left, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You mechanically gathered the dishes, the clattering of plates and the hum of the refrigerator the only sounds in the silent kitchen. 

Jongho rose beside you, his movements measured and slow. “Are you okay?”

You froze, the question hanging heavy between you. No, you wanted to say. None of this is okay. But instead, you nodded, keeping your eyes locked on the sink. “I’m fine.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Your breath caught, your pulse quickening. “We can’t do this,” you whispered, though every fiber of your being screamed otherwise. “He’s your father.”

“And you’re not my mother,” he shot back, his voice firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “You know what this is. What we are.”

You turned to face him, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. This is wrong, your rational mind protested, but your body leaned into his touch, craving the connection you couldn’t deny.

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Both of you jumped apart, your hearts racing. Taeho appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

“What’s taking so long?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

Jongho straightened, his mask of composure slipping back into place. “Just finishing up, Father.”

Taeho grunted, clearly unconvinced, but he made no further comment. “Don’t dawdle. There’s work to be done.”

He disappeared again, leaving you both standing there, the weight of his suspicion hanging over you.

Once you were certain he was gone, you let out a shaky breath. “This is impossible,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jongho’s hand found yours, squeezing gently. “Nothing worth having is easy.”

His words sent a thrill through you, but the fear of discovery lingered. “We’re playing with fire,” you warned, though you didn’t pull away.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Then let’s burn.”

Heat surged through you, your resolve wavering. This is madness, part of you knew, but the rest of you didn’t care. The pull between you was too strong to resist, the promise of passion too tempting to ignore.

But before either of you could act, the sound of Taeho’s voice calling for Jongho shattered the moment. You stepped back hastily, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing.

Jongho hesitated, his eyes locking with yours one last time. “Later,” he promised, his voice low and full of intent.

Then he was gone, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your thoughts spiraling. Later. The word echoed in your mind, a promise and a threat all at once. You didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and there was no turning back now.

The days following Jongho’s arrival were a strange mix of tension and anticipation. Taeho’s announcement at dinner had only deepened the unease, but it also left you with a lingering sense of curiosity—and dread. Every glance exchanged with Jongho felt charged, every accidental brush of hands sending jolts of electricity through your body. You tried to remind yourself of the consequences, of the chaos this could unleash, but the reckless part of you didn’t care.

It was a quiet afternoon when Taeho dropped the news. He stood in the living room, his suitcase already packed, and announced he would be leaving for a business trip the next morning. 

“I’ll be gone for three days,” he said, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “Jongho will stay here. I expect you both to manage things while I’m away.”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral, but inside, your heart raced. Three days alone with Jongho. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

Taeho’s departure the next morning was almost too easy. He gave you a curt nod and reminded Jongho to keep an eye on the household affairs before heading out the door. The moment it clicked shut behind him, the air in the house seemed to shift. It was just you and Jongho now.

For the first hour, you busied yourself with mundane tasks—tidying up, making tea, anything to avoid being alone with him. But fate, or perhaps something else, had other plans. Jongho found you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared blankly at the stove.

“Nervous?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

You turned to face him, your cheeks flushing despite yourself. “Should I be?”

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “That depends on you.”

There was a boldness in his eyes that made your breath catch. You knew what he was implying, and though every rational part of your brain screamed at you to walk away, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that.

“Jongho…” you started, but your voice trailed off as he closed the distance between you.

His hands rested on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, you reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. That was all the encouragement he needed.

His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his chest pressed against yours, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not Taeho, not the consequences, not the guilt that lingered at the edges of your mind.

Jongho’s hands slid down your sides, his touch sending shivers through you. When he lifted you onto the counter, you barely had time to register what was happening before his lips were on your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored further.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

His words sent a thrill through you. Beautiful. How long had it been since someone had said that to you? Since someone had looked at you the way Jongho was looking at you now?

You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliged, pulling it off in one swift motion, and then his hands were back on you, unbuttoning your blouse with practiced ease. When his fingers brushed against your bare skin, you gasped, the sensation almost too much to bear.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

You hesitated for just a moment, but then you nodded. “Yes.”

That single word seemed to unleash something in him. He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming freely over your body. When he finally slipped your bra off, you felt a rush of vulnerability mixed with excitement. His mouth found your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, and you let out a whimper.

“Jongho…” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t respond, too focused on exploring every inch of you. When his hand dipped lower, sliding beneath the waistband of your skirt, you tensed, your hips instinctively bucking against his touch.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you.”

And somehow, you believed him. As his fingers found their way between your thighs, you let go, surrendering to the pleasure he was giving you. Each stroke, each caress, built the tension inside you until you were teetering on the edge.

“Jongho, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as he added another finger, pushing you over the edge.

Your body shook with the force of your release, your vision blurring as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Jongho held you steady, his arms strong and reassuring, until the tremors subsided.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found him watching you with a mixture of pride and hunger. “Still nervous?” he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not anymore.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you towards his bedroom. “Jongho!” you squealed, half-laughing, half-protesting.

“Trust me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you did.

He carried you effortlessly and set you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He undressed the rest of your clothes slowly, peppering your skin with light kisses as he exposed each new part of you. By the time you were fully naked, you were trembling with anticipation.

Jongho ran his hands over your body, worshipping every inch of you. A low hum rumbled deep in his chest, and a smile spread across his face. You shivered, suddenly feeling shy under his scrutiny.

Before you could speak, he kissed you, and any thoughts of embarrassment faded away. He explored every curve, every line, leaving no part of you untouched. You moaned, arching into his touch. Your nails dug into the sheets, grasping at anything to ground you, as his thumb brushed against the most intimate parts of you.

He pulled away only long enough to free himself of his remaining clothes, and your eyes raked down the planes of his toned, muscular body. As he knelt over you, your gaze locked onto his, and you saw the same hunger reflected back at you. You reached for him, and he lowered himself onto you, his chest pressed firmly against yours. His cock was hot and heavy between your thighs, and you instinctively shifted your hips towards him.

"Impatient, aren't you?" Jongho whispered, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

"Jongho, I need..." your words trailed off into a gasp as he rocked his hips, rubbing himself against your clit. "Oh god, I need you."

"How much?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours.

"So much,” you grabbed his ass, trying to pull him closer.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Good, because I need you too."

"Really?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"Always," he whispered as he pushed inside you.

Your nails dug into his back as he filled you up. He waited a moment, letting you adjust to his size, before starting to move. Your head spun with the sensation of it, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you.

"You feel amazing," he grunted, his lips pressing hot, urgent kisses to your skin. "So wet for me."

Your breath hitched as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you. "Please, Jongho, don't stop."

You had no idea where this was going to go. Part of you, the rational part, screamed at you to end it here, to call a stop and walk away. This was dangerous, it knew, but it felt too good to be wrong.

Your toes curled as the pleasure built, a delicious tightness coiling in the pit of your stomach. Jongho's hand slipped down to rub slow, firm circles over your clit and the combination nearly made you come undone.

"Jongho, I—" you gasped. Your body began to shake as you came.

He gritted his teeth, trying not to cum himself as the feeling of you convulsing around his cock almost tipped him over the edge. As soon as you came down, he slipped out of you.

"Why'd you stop?" you asked.

"Don't want to cum just yet, we're just getting started," he said.

Jongho sat up, shifting so that he was sitting against the headboard and patted his legs. "Want you to ride me," he murmured before claiming your lips again.

You let him guide you, swinging a leg over to straddle him. His lips traveled to your neck as you lowered yourself, grinding your pussy on his thick, hard member, coating him in your slickness.

Jongho nipped at your skin, mumbling praises as he peppered light, gentle kisses. "Need you," he moaned into your neck, sucking on your pulse and letting you know you left your mark.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, picking up your movements and pulling him closer.

He was big, filling you up and stretching you in a way that you'd never experienced. It was hard to believe that he was Taeho's son; you never saw this kind of sexual expertise from your husband, not in a lifetime.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with an openness you weren't familiar with. For the first time, you took a moment to just look at him.

He looked back with a hungry gaze, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other roamed up your sides, then cupped your face as he kissed you. You felt yourself melting into him, into this whole thing that had gotten entirely out of hand. You had always told yourself you weren't the cheating type, yet you were right there doing just that, riding your husband's son in ways you could hardly have imagined doing before tonight.

"You okay?" Jongho asked gently, studying your expression.

"More than okay," you hummed. "I feel perfect."

And it was the truth, no matter how insane it was. You leaned into him, gripping his shoulders as you rode his cock. "I can't remember the last time I felt this happy," you muttered.

It wasn't the sex. Sure, the sex was incredible, but there was something deeper that made you feel so whole. Like something had fallen into place, like something had made the clouds disappear to show the stars. It was dangerous, but you couldn't stop.

"This, us, it's insane but I can't stop," you panted. "I don't want it to end. Ever. I'm scared we'll have to hide once your father returns and—"

Jongho kissed you, tenderly and lovingly.  "Shh, it's okay. We'll figure it out together," he said soothingly. "Forget everything else tonight. Right now, it's just you and me. No one else."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped from your lips. "No one else...just us."

"Just us. I'm yours, and you're mine," Jongho spoke between kisses, trailing his lips down to your collarbone where his teeth scraped your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. "No one else."

"No one else..." you breathed, losing yourself in the feeling of him inside of you.

The conversation paused as he bounced you faster on his length, pulling another long moan from you. Then he took your face in his hand and stroked your cheek.

"God, you're perfect. The most gorgeous thing I've ever laid my eyes on," he mused, bringing your lips to his. He gave you a searing kiss and tugged at your bottom lip before pulling back. "What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

You pressed your forehead to his. "Keep fucking me," you begged. "Fuck me so hard and deep."

"I've got you." He flipped the both of you, never slipping out of you. "Gonna take care of you," he growled into your ear. "Going to keep your pussy so stuffed."

God, you weren't used to a younger, virile man treating you like a sex goddess. You were the wife of one of the richest men in the country, and your husband refused to fuck you for years now. And suddenly you were with his son, and god, he was fucking amazing.

With both of his palms holding down your shoulders to the bed, he pounded hard and deep into you. The sound of your skin slapping together sounded down the hallway, but neither of you cared.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart," Jongho hissed. "Gonna keep your cunt stuffed with my cum. Make you so full, fuck a baby into you..."

"God yes, Jongho," you mewled. 

You couldn't get pregnant, you knew that already. But the idea of being completely ruined by this young man made your heart sing with delight. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother. You always dreamed about a home filled with kids and laughter. You were thirty-nine, far past the ideal time for starting a family, but the thought of having a child with Jongho didn't scare you as it would if Taeho were your baby's father. You'd be far happier having your firstborn with someone who actually gave a shit. Someone loving and attentive, even if he was years younger than you.

"Tell me you want it," Jongho groaned into the crook of your neck, pressing sweet and soft kisses along your heated skin. "Say yes."

You bucked against Jongho's hard thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation. 

"Yes, fuck, I do. Want it, want you, all of it, all of you," you chanted, words slipping past your tongue, leaving a bittersweet trail of its remnants.

Your words only drove him to be faster, rougher, harder. His pace was maddening, but exactly what you craved. It wasn't long until the familiar buzz started to make itself known in the pit of your belly. Your toes curled and fingers clawed the sheets as the first shock of your release rippled through you, making your pussy clench hard around Jongho's thickness.

"F-fuck, oh god, Jongho," you gasped.

Jongho kept going, his hand cupping one of your bouncing breasts and the other grabbing you by your neck. "That's it, beautiful. Cum all over this fat cock of yours," he grunted, pushing deeper in you.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck," you sputtered incoherently, eyes screwing shut as your orgasm wracked you.

As you came, you felt him thrust once, twice before finally bottoming out deep into your cervix and cumming in hot spurts. He stilled, allowing his seed to travel inside you, as deep as he could push. You could feel yourself spasm around him, your orgasm seemingly never ending.

His pace gradually slowed to a stop, both of you just trying to catch your breath. When Jongho lifted his head and glanced down at your limp, sweaty form, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, easing his weight off your smaller body to allow you room to breathe. You couldn't help but giggle weakly.

"God, you're amazing," you complimented. You winced, though, as he slowly slid himself out, the friction against your sensitive walls making you squirm a little. Jongho laid beside you and propped his head on one arm, the other running down your side, holding onto you. 

You hummed, eyes slipping shut, not quite hearing Jongho's soft confession. "I think I love you."

The nausea hit you like a wave, sudden and unrelenting. You’d been feeling off for weeks—fatigue that clung to your bones, a lingering queasiness that no amount of ginger tea could soothe. At first, you dismissed it as stress, the weight of your secret life with Jongho pressing down on your shoulders. But this… this was different.

You leaned against the cool tile wall of the bathroom, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Taeho hadn’t noticed anything amiss, too preoccupied with his business dealings and late-night meetings. But Jongho… he’d caught the faint tremble in your hands, the way you’d pushed your food around your plate during dinner last night. 

“Are you okay?” he’d asked, his voice low with concern. You’d brushed him off, laughed it away, but now, alone in the quiet of the house, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You knew you couldn’t go to your usual doctor. The risk of Taeho finding out was too great. Instead, you made an appointment at your maternal family’s hospital, a place where your name still carried enough weight to ensure discretion. The drive there felt surreal, the city streets blurring past as your mind raced with possibilities. What if it’s just a virus? What if it’s something worse?

The waiting room was sterile and quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights adding to your anxiety. When your name was called, you followed the nurse with robotic steps, barely registering her polite chatter. The exam room was colder than you remembered, the paper gown scratchy against your skin. The doctor, a woman with kind eyes and a calm demeanor, ran through the standard questions. How long have you been feeling this way? Any other symptoms? When was your last period?

That last question made you pause. You couldn’t remember. It had been so long since you’d even thought about it. 

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The doctor nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard before ordering a series of tests.

The wait for the results felt endless. You sat on the edge of the exam table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. When the doctor returned, her expression was unreadable. She closed the door softly behind her before turning to face you. 

“Well,” she began, her tone measured, “the good news is, you’re perfectly healthy. The nausea and fatigue are likely due to—”

“Due to what?” you asked, your voice trembling.

The doctor smiled gently. “Due to your pregnancy.”

For a moment, the words didn’t register. They hung in the air between you, heavy and impossible. 

“P-pregnancy?” you stammered, your mind reeling. “But… that’s not possible. I was told I couldn’t conceive.”

“Sometimes,” the doctor explained, her tone soothing, “miracles happen. Based on your test results, you’re about eight weeks along. Congratulations.”

A baby. Jongho’s baby. 

The implications crashed over you like a tidal wave—Taeho’s reaction, your family’s expectations, society's judgment. And yet, beneath the panic, there was a flicker of something else. Something warm and hopeful. A tiny flame of joy that refused to be extinguished.

You left the hospital in a daze, the doctor’s instructions and prenatal vitamins tucked into your bag. The world outside seemed brighter somehow, the colors more vivid, the sounds sharper. You needed to talk to Jongho. He deserved to know. But how would he react? Would he see this as a blessing or a curse? And how the hell were you going to explain this to Taeho?

When you arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. Taeho was away on another business trip, and Jongho was… well, you weren’t sure where he was. You wandered aimlessly through the rooms, your mind racing with thoughts and fears. Finally, you found yourself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared out the window at the garden.

“Hey,” Jongho’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. How do you even begin to tell someone something like this? Sensing your hesitation, Jongho crossed the room in a few quick strides, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. 

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I… I went to the doctor today.”

His frown deepened. “Is everything okay? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, your fingers twisting nervously in the hem of your shirt. “No. Not sick. I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so radiant it made your heart ache. 

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Eight weeks.”

He let out a breathless laugh, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This is incredible,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to have a baby.”

His joy was contagious, and you felt yourself relaxing into his arms, the tension in your body melting away. But then, the reality of your situation came rushing back, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with worried eyes. “What are we going to do about Taeho? About… everything?”

Jongho cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and determined. “We’ll figure it out. Together. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you mean that?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“Every word,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. “You’re mine. This baby is ours. And nothing,nothing, is going to take that away from us.”

You wanted to believe him, to let yourself get lost in the promise of his words. But the weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was only just beginning.

[beholdthebangs]

Stress Reliever

Kent x F!Reader / Sam x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - Sam invites himself and Kent over to your house for dinner one night, seemingly an opportunity to get to know your boyfriend’s father better after his recent arrival to town. Things take a turn when you try to give Kent some ideas to relax, Sam having his own thoughts on the subject when he offers you up as a solution. Only under his supervision, of course.

Warnings: Drinking, brief references to PTSD, affair, indirect(?) incest, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, free use, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise, vaginal sex, oral sex, light choking

A/N: There’s not enough Kent smut to go around so this is my contribution.

—————————————————————————

Sam

2:43 AM: My dad and I are gonna come over tmrw nite for dinner

2:44 AM: Wear something I like 😜💦

2:51 AM: and make sumthing good plz 🥺

—————————————————————————

Kent had returned to Pelican Town only a few months ago and you’d had few interactions with him since, limited to a brief introduction and exchanging of pleasantries when you stopped by 1 Willow Lane to see Sam. The older man had always been standoffish, understandably so given everything he’d gone through in his time away. Still, it was difficult to find some way to relate with him, something you desperately wanted given your relationship with his son. It was discouraging to have such a poor relationship with the man who may one day be your father-in-law. Sam had assured you that he was always quiet, even with his family.

Sam rarely talked about him before he came back, and Jodi seemed just as stressed out as she was when she was acting as a single mother. The family didn’t seem to change dynamics at all with Kent’s return; it didn’t adjust to make room for him. It’s like all the gaps had been filled when he left and there was no space now that he was back. You hadn’t been around before Kent had been deployed. Sometimes you’d ask Sam what things were like back then, but he would shrug it off, telling you he didn’t remember that far back. Sure, his brain was crowded with hyperactive tendencies, but you knew he also didn’t want to open up. You tried not to jump to conclusions but it was hard having nothing else to draw from but the blond’s abnormally clouded demeanor.

You stir a pot of pasta sauce absentmindedly as it simmers, the pasta waiting in a colander in the sink to be added. Three chicken breasts are sizzling in the cast iron pan in your oven, nearing temperature. It seems like the end a recipe always feels the most chaotic, everything timed to finish at once. You have to pull yourself out of your head to focus on not burning anything. You brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. 5:45 pm on the clock in the living room; perfect.

You pull the chicken out, allowing it to rest while you combine the pasta and toss together the salad comprised of veggies you’d picked this morning. You set out the blueberry tarts along with a bowl of roasted hazelnuts, your most overt plea for friendship with Kent as he’d mentioned once how much he enjoyed them.

Once the pasta is dished out, chicken cut into strips and placed neatly on top, you set everything at your dining table and take a step back, leaning in to fix silverware placements and adjust the flower pot in the center of the table. You also grab the boxy bottle of fancy whiskey Pam had gifted you last winter and pour a small amount in each short glass set at the table, leaving it in the middle as you’d surely need seconds to calm your nerves. In fact—

You take a quick sip from the bottle before replacing it on the table, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thin skirt, hem resting above your kneecaps. The alcohol content will clean any germs you leave behind, right? The way your body begins to buzz only a minute later feels like assurance of that.

As you finish cleaning up your kitchen, you hear the door close and look over. Sam has his hands stuffed in his jean jacket, hair pushed up as if he’s been running his fingers through it. Kent is behind him in a light brown corduroy jacket and dark jeans. “Hey!” you greet, hurrying over. “I can grab your jackets.”

“Hey,” Sam smiles, shrugging his off and handing it over while leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Smells good, huh Dad?”

Kent grunts. As you look over at him, he gives one nod as he pulls his own jacket past his broad shoulders and holds it in his hand. You take it from him, turning and standing on your toes, reaching up to hang both on the coat rack by your door. “Thanks for having us.” As you turn, both men’s eyes snap upward to yours, a twisted expression on Kent’s face and a nervous one on Sam’s.

“Of course! Come sit, everything is ready.” You press your lips together, rubbing in the pink gloss placed on them. Your fingers toy with the end of your shirt, glancing down at yourself as you try to pinpoint what they were looking at. Maybe you’d gotten a bit more messy than you thought while cooking.

You allow the men to walk ahead of you and take their places at the rounded table before filling in the empty spot between them. They dig in without hesitation, talking more to one another than to you. Once in a while, Sam will say something to bring you into the conversation like, “Y/n is great at that. Tell him.” It allows you to talk about yourself for a moment, often getting nothing but a nod in response. To be fair, Sam carries the conversation between the two of them as he babbles on, so you try not to take it too personally. The way he speaks without leaving enough pauses between sentences to truly converse reminds you of the way he acted before you started dating. He’d let his racing brain take full control of his mouth and he never shut up until you kissed him. He never shut up until he got comfortable and lost his nerves… It makes you wonder what he might be hiding now. Maybe it’s just the pressure of the night, and he wants it to go well as much as you do.

As you’re finishing up the last of your pasta, you hear Kent say, “Roasted hazelnuts?” Your attention snaps up to him and you nod.

“Yeah! I thought you might enjoy them.”

“I love them.” He grabs a couple and pops them in his mouth, teeth crunching down on them. After he swallows, he says a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. There’s more where those came from.”

Sam grins, leaning back in his chair. “I told you how caring she is.”

Kent stiffens a bit. “Yeah, you did.” He grabs another handful.

With your last bite of food in your mouth, you stand and clear the plates from the table, setting them in the sink. Sam pours himself and his dad another glass of whiskey while Kent excuses himself to the bathroom. As you scrub at the dishes, Sam stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

“Thanks for making dinner, baby. So good.”

“Thanks Sammy.” You lean your head against his for a moment.

“I like your skirt,” he comments as his hands begin to slide down the fabric covering your thighs. You clench them together, his tone mixed with wandering hands all too familiar.

“We can’t do this right now,” you whisper, barely audible over the sound of running water as you scrub the dish.

“Just a little, baby.” You don’t move. “Please?”

He waits for protests, but receives none. His hands slide back up your thighs, this time pulling your skirt with them. His fingers loop themselves around your panties and pull them down your legs, letting go of you to lean down and grab them as you step out of them. He stays on his knees, spreading your feet apart and coaxing you into a wider stance. You lean over the sink just slightly, your hole exposed and positioned toward your boyfriend. His tongue licks a strip from your clit back to your pussy and you shiver at the contact, the metal of his tongue piercing providing extra sensation you had grown especially fond of.

You try desperately to focus on the dishes, sudsing up the sponge as you press it against each plate and lather it up while Sam rubs his tongue expertly along your clit, a finger snaking into you and curling at your sensitive spot. With great focus, you manage to finish cleaning and washing off each dish while he works on your wet pussy. You throw the sponge in the sink, excited to be able to just grip the counter and enjoy him. Just as you start to give in, the bathroom door opens from the other side of the room and Sam quickly pulls back, fixing your skirt for you before Kent walks out. You turn in time to see Sam tuck your panties in his pocket, unable to protest as his dad sits on your couch only feet away. Sam winks, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm and walking over to join him, whiskey glasses in hand.

You take a breath, reaching over to grab a dishrag and dry off the plates, setting them back in the cupboard one by one. You manage to regain your composure rather quickly; the times you’d spend at Sam’s had trained you to get your fix in where you could but stay on edge with the threat of his mother walking in always looming over the two of you. The dynamic had yielded a… unique sexual relationship between you and Sam. Him having such a high sex drive had you bending to his will, metaphorically and often physically, any time he wanted it without so much as word.

After you put away the dishes, you join the two men on the couch. They’re holding their glasses, yours already refilled and set on the coffee table in front of you. You take it, sitting carefully in the spot between the two of them. Your back is twisted slightly toward Sam and you’re almost positive he saw your ass in the process, still naked from his assault on your clit minutes ago. Stealing a glance, his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, eyes lingering at the edge of your skirt.

“We’re just talking about how my dad’s been since coming home,” Sam explains, reaching forward to put his palm on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your skin casually.

“I imagine it’s hard getting back into a routine,” you say as you turn your attention to the gruff man in front of you. You’d noticed Kent’s inconsistent patterns, often coming across him staring out at the river in front of his home in the morning or in the saloon at night.

He nods, eyes trained on the brown liquid in his hands. “You’d be right. I don’t remember having a free moment before I left. Now, I got far too many.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it must be. Now would be a good time to pick up some hobbies,” you offer, though the advice feels a bit shallow considering the magnitude of emotions he must be going through.

“I’ve tried fishing, jogging, drinking… none of it eases my mind like it used to.”

Sam squeezes your leg. “Why don’t you tell him what we do to destress.”

You look back, shooting him a confused glance. Sam twists in his spot, positioning himself to lean against the armrest of the couch, his chest parallel to your back. He places his hands on either side of your waist, pulling you toward him. “Sam,” you snap quietly behind you, but he doesn’t stop until you’re sat on his lap, your legs stretched along the couch toward Kent. As much as you want to tuck yourself in, you fear doing so would expose too much skin to your boyfriend’s father.

“Tell him how you deal with stress,” Sam repeats in your ear.

Your mind spins with Sam’s affection in front of his father; you’d never dream of sitting on his lap as you share a couch with his parent. Still, you wrack your brain for answers. “Visiting the beach, walking in Cindersap forest or the mountains… the spa is always nice after a long day.”

Sam chuckles lowly. “Remember what we did last time we went there?”

You laugh nervously, patting his knee. “Yep. What else…”

Sam presses a kiss to your neck, lips still curled into a smile as he reminisces in your late night escapade in the steamy pool last winter. You’re frozen, unable to pull your gaze from Kent, his eyes intently looking over you. Your face is surely bright red now, unsure how to process anything going on at the moment.

“That night is more along the lines of what I was thinking, baby,” Sam admits, hot breath on your neck. “My dad and I were talking about how I manage stress, and… well, I told him.”

“You told him?” you repeat in a quiet voice, quirking an eyebrow upward.

He nods. “I told him about our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?” Your tone is harsher now; surely he isn’t saying what you think he’s saying.

Sam moves his hand from your waist down to your inner thigh, pressing it hard enough to part your legs despite your physical resistance. His fingertips glide over your clit, still wet from your previous encounter, the obscene sound filling the room much to your embarrassment. Kent has a straight view to his son’s hand working you.

“The one where I have free will with your body… any time, any place, any way I want it…”

“Sam,” you hiss, squeezing your thighs together around his hand.

“Y/n,” he replies, matching your tone mockingly. He hastily pushes your thighs back apart as if annoyed at the inconvenience you’d caused by closing your legs. “I’ve been talking you up to my dad for weeks. I told him how much it’s helped me. I think it could help him too.”

Your mind is swirling. You can’t get the fact that Kent can see straight up your skirt as his son touches you out of your head. The way his eyes won’t leave you makes your skin burn. The knowledge that your boyfriend has fully divulged your sex life to his dad over the course of the month is too much to process in the moment. “What are you suggesting?”

He breathes in deep, nose pressed to your hair. “I’m suggesting… my dad can make the same arrangement with you… the only stipulation being my approval.”

You look between Sam, trying to appear confident and powerful with his nerves seeping through the cracks of his facade, to Kent who can hardly bear to make eye contact. “You have a wife!”

Sam scoffs. “You think she has enough time left in her day to let him free use her like you let me?”

“But you love her.” You’re trying to appeal to Kent’s soft spot, if he has one.

“I do,” he agrees, finally speaking up. “But this isn’t a problem she’s equipped to fix. Because I love her, she can’t help me.” You shake your head, beckoning him for clarification. “I can’t…”

“Use her,” Sam finishes his thought, finger flicking at your clit as the words leave his mouth.

“Can’t use her,” Kent confirms. “Sam says that’s your area of expertise.”

He hums. “And you can keep a secret, can’t ya?” Sam reaches around, pulling the neck of your shirt down along with your bra as he exposes one of your breasts. He toys with your nipple as the pad of his finger strokes your slit, messy sounds emanating from it despite your conflicted feelings. “Baby,” Sam coos gently against your ear. “You need to turn your brain off. It’s not doing you any good.”

A part of you wants to fight him. This is a weird situation and you’d be right to kick them both out right now. At the same time, a more submissive version of yourself is clouding your judgment. Sam tends to flip a switch in your brain; it’s like your body is physically attuned to what he needs, and it’s your mission to deliver it to him no matter what. You’d spent a large portion of your relationship doing anything he could ask, so much so that it had become the expectation that you would let him take you in whatever way he needed and you would allow it with a smile. And every time before this, you had done that.

He begins to leave kisses down your neck, nipping at your ear. His hands sneak around your ass, managing to unbutton his jeans and pull them down his thighs just enough to retrieve his hard cock. He strokes it, the feel of the soft, hot skin meeting your back with every thrust against his palm. Sam finally lifts you up, setting your hole just above his entrance. Slowly, he lets you down until your ass is back in his lap, cock now nestled deep inside you. Your head rolls back, falling onto his shoulder as you moan, your walls stretching to take in his cock. His tip almost immediately finds the spongy spot inside you that seems to short-circuit you. That special part of your brain reserved for Sam is taking over. You watch Kent through droopy lids as Sam manages small thrusts into you, him studying your body intently.

“Look at her,” the blond chuckles. “She just melts around a good dick.” He presses his cheek against your hair once more. “So what do you say, baby? I just need one little ‘yes.’”

You study the man before you. Kent looks so much like Sam but more mature, chiseled. If that’s what waits for you in your future with his son, you would happily accept it. His broad shoulders on display as he leans back against the couch, arm stretched over the top, fingers twitching like he’s fighting himself from touching you. His legs spread open, you can’t help but look at his groin and view the tented fabric there, your legs squirming as you do, heels dragging across the cushion separating you from him as you bring your knees toward yourself.

Your voice feels like it will surely get caught in your throat, but you squeak out the word anyway. “Yes.”

You can practically feel Sam’s lips twist up into a smirk and he looks over at Kent whose eyebrow is quirked upward, a small smile on his face too. He slowly lifts his arm, reaching forward to place his palm on your shin and rub it soothingly.

“Good girl,” Sam purrs. He pats the side of your ass, helping you off him. His cock slides out with a quiet pop as you lean forward, pulling your legs back toward you to fold them beneath you as you move off Sam’s lap and wait for further instruction. “She’s all yours,” Sam says to his father.

Kent reaches over, running his fingers over your side as he takes on his role. “On your knees.” His voice is quiet but strong, though the intonation of his words is less confident than you’d expect. You do as he says, never one to make a man wait.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, hands on his knees as your legs fold below you on the floor. His expression is stoic as always, and you can’t read him no matter how hard you try. Sam is easy— his lip is always between his teeth when you’re in this position with him, hand roaming through your hair as he waits for your hot mouth to please him. Kent hasn’t moved an inch.

You glance nervously between father and son, and Sam is the one to give you an encouraging nod. “Help him get his cock out, baby.”

You slowly reach forward, toying with the metallic button on his jeans. You take your time, giving him the opportunity to stop you but of course he doesn’t, only focusing intently on you. You pull the zipper down and he finally moves, helping you tug his jeans down his legs and discarding them on the ground off to the side of the couch. All that’s left is the thin fabric of the tight black boxer briefs he sports.

His jeans, made of thick denim, had given you a hint as to how he may have been feeling, but with less fabric, it’s evident. You can see the shape of his twitchy cock so clearly now that you could trace the outline of him from his pelvis down to his upper thigh; and you do. He breathes in sharply at first contact, fingertips once again shaking at his sides like he wants to grab you and take control. Sam has never shown restraint like that, always handsy.

The younger man snaps his fingers from the other side of the couch and you pull yourself out of your thoughts, running your hand down Kent’s toned stomach and underneath his boxers. You hold the thick length in your hand, hardly able to get your fingers all the way around it. Admittedly eager, you free it from the constraints of his underwear and sit back on your heels to admire the way it throbs and bounces against the brown hair sprinkling his stomach.

Kent questions, voice low, “Too big?” You shake your head hesitantly. “Good. Show me you can take it.”

Kent grabs his length and holds it toward your mouth, seemingly having found some confidence. You lean forward, sucking on the tip, only able to put as much of him in your mouth as he allows with his hand blocking access to much of his length. Your tongue swirls around the big head, greedily swallowing the precum that rested there moments ago. It’s salty but subtle, only a teaser of what he has to offer if you can satisfy him. Gradually, he moves his hand further down his length and you take more and more in, lips smacking against the side of his palm with each head bob. “You’re teasing,” Sam tsks, directed at Kent. “She’s used to having dick down her throat.”

“‘Cause you can’t last long ‘nough to do this?” he replies, not even gracing Sam with a glance over.

You look at him in your peripheral, propped up on the couch with one leg bent, his hand stroking slowly at his own cock pulled out from the waistband of his boxers as he watches you. His eyes roll in silent response to his father.

Kent asks you, “That true? Just want it down your throat?”

You nod around him, humming in agreement and sending a wave of pleasure through his cock. He concedes, removing his hand and tangling it into the hair on the back of your head. Without warning, he shoves you down and helps you meet the skin of his pelvis with a sharp thrust of his hips. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but you can also feel your slick begin to drip down to your inner thighs.

“She can take it,” Sam reassures him. “Do it again.”

Kent does. Once, then another, until he’s throat fucking you and all you can do is keep your mouth open and let him abuse it. Your drool is spilling down his thick cock, and by the time he finally pulls out, a long strand of spit keeps you connected to his tip. You’re still slack jawed from the force of it, drool running from your mouth to your chin as you catch your breath. “No complains?” Kent questions, leaning forward to run his thumb over your wet face and gather more lubrication.

“No,” you manage to get out.

“Good girl.” He motions for you to get back on the couch, helping you kneel in the spot between him and Sam. “Been too long since I got to use a sweet li’l mouth.” Kent rests a hand on the nape of your neck, bringing you back to his groin. You lick along the underside of it as it rests against his stomach while he reaches back, running his middle finger along your spread slit. A low groan comes from between his barely-parted lips. “You really fuckin’ like this, huh?”

You take him in your mouth, in no rush as you bring his tip to the back of your throat while using your tongue to tease over the throbbing vein running along the underside of his length . As he continues to run his digits over your core, you set an even pace on his dick.

You can’t help the moans and whimpers escaping your throat as Kent’s fingers glide effortlessly around your clit, and you can tell by the way his muscles constrict that he can feel it reverberate around his cock. A thick finger slips into your cunt and despite the quick fuck Sam had provided you just a few minutes ago, Kent grunts at how your walls suck his digit in and collapse around it. “She ever taken a cock this big before?” he asks Sam.

“She’s taken mine.”

Kent uses his free hand to brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing the side of your face to him as you suck on his cock. “Nev’r had such a thick cock before, huh, doll?”

You know you’ll upset one of the men no matter how you answer, so you just look up at Kent the best you can and give him a good view of his dick sliding up and down your tongue. Your foot, pressed against Sam’s leg, wiggles just enough to let him know you haven’t forgotten him. He grabs it and gives it a quick squeeze. You can feel the wet of his precum mixed with the slick of your pussy left behind on his member coating his hand as he does so.

“Her cunt takes it better if you make her cum first,” Sam says.

“She’ll take it fine long as she’s horny,” Kent argues. “‘Nd she is.”

“Which one of us has fucked her?”

“Fine,” Kent says with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll do it your way. But next time, I’m doing it mine.”

Next time.

Before you can ruminate too much on the statement, Kent adds another finger to your slick cunt and begins fucking in and out of you faster. His thumb reaches around to continue attacking your clit with harsh circles. Sam’s hands join in, groping at your thighs and hips, squeezing and stretching your delicate skin.

You find yourself getting distracted with all the sensations, mouth hanging open. Kent’s cock twitches and it falls from between your lips, slapping his stomach before bouncing back up to idle in the air, pumping blood keeping it at attention. His free hand grips at your jaw, forcing your mouth open and he shoves himself back inside, holding you to the base of his length. “I know you got better manners ‘n that.”

Sam’s palm makes sharp contact with your ass. “Apologize.” As soon as Kent releases you from his cock, you choke out an apology, trying to catch your breath and soothe your gag reflex all at once. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, directing you back to his cock with a gentler touch.

Kent’s fingers, thicker and rougher than Sam’s, stretch at your tight walls. His thumb, though a secondary concern to the digits pumping in and out of you, is still quite skilled. He catches the right spots of the sensitive nub, applying enough pressure to have you rolling your hips in time. As your moans grow louder around his cock, he picks up his intensity.

“You have to ask before you cum?” Kent inquires.

You pull off his cock to answer, holding it to your lips as you stroke the hot, thick flesh in your hand. “If Daddy says so.”

“‘Daddy,’” he repeats. You don’t need to look up at him to know he’s smirking over at Sam. Your cheeks flush red, mouth returning to work.

“She calls me that sometimes,” Sam says. You wonder if he looks as embarrassed as you imagine him to be. He clearly didn’t think that part important enough to divulge earlier.

“You already like fuckin’ daddies, huh, darlin’?” You nod hesitantly, still refusing eye contact. “Let’s see how ya like the real thing. Gotta cum first.”

You prepare for the finger fucking to speed up, but instead, Kent pulls out. Your eyes quickly snap up to his while his hands grab your sides, helping you to your knees to straddle his lap. Kent bunches the fabric of your skirt up around your stomach before pulling your shirt over your head. He makes quick work of your bra, unhooking it with ease and tossing it away. His eyes are locked on your breasts in front of his face, nipples hardened as they’re exposed to the cool air.

“Isn’t she pretty,” Sam coos. You look over at him still palming his cock at the other end of the couch. “Lips all red and puffy and used.” He’s turning himself on as he takes in the sight of you and your instinct is to reach over and help him, but Kent seems intent on having you to himself right now. His cock has nestled its way between your swollen pussy lips, dripping in your spit and the wet leaking from your cunt. He humps against you, his shaft running along your pussy and his tip snagging your hole just enough to make you jump, the threat of his length entering you present each time he repeats the motion.

“Gotta ask before you cum on Daddy’s dick,” he instructs over your whimpers. Kents lips wrap around your nipple, teeth giving it little nips as he sucks it into his mouth. If not for his forearms on your back, hands curled over your shoulders to keep you down on his throbbing length, you’d have collapsed as the knot in your stomach grows unbearably tight, head foggy with lust. You can’t believe you’re grinding on your boyfriend’s dad’s cock in front of him, but even more, you can’t believe how much you’re enjoying it.

“Gonna cum,” you cry out, head rolling as your back arches, tits pushed further into Kent’s face. He gives your nipple a quick bite.

“Ask.”

“Please!”

He scoffs, not letting up on his thrusts against you. “Try again.”

“Please let me cum,” you whimper, fingernails digging into Kent’s thighs below you, eyelids sealed tight as you try to hold back your orgasm.

“Haven’t taught her any manners?” Kent directs at Sam.

The younger blond narrows his eyes at you, and you meet his gaze through hooded lids. Your lips are parted, sucking in shallow breaths as your hips buck involuntarily with the stimulation to your core. “Don’t fucking embarrass me,” he hisses. “Ask Daddy if you can cum.” Your brows furrow. He nods pointedly to Kent, as if to clarify which of your daddies he’s talking about. “Look at ‘im.”

Your eyes latch onto the older man’s beneath you. His hips snap to yours a little harsher now. “Daddy,” you breathe, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lip, spurring you on. “Please, Daddy, let me cum. Feels so good! Please!”

The way Kent pushes down on your shoulders has your pussy pressed down on his dick moving between your sweet lips, and with a little upward movement from the man’s hips, his fat leaky tip fits snugly into your hole, plugging you and teasing you just enough that you feel the knot in your stomach tighten one final time before promptly beginning to undo itself. You look frantically at the rugged blond, and thank Yoba he gives you permission as a moan fights its way from your throat. “C’mon, baby girl. Let go.”

His hands move to your hair cascading down your back, tugging on it and lifting your chin upward. He continues to thrust, maintaining the angle to keep his tip inside your spasming hole without entering any further. You feel the duality of being empty whilst having the sting of his fat head stretching your opening and all you want is for him to shove inside you and fuck you through your orgasm. Kent clearly knows it from the look on your face and the way your hips move on top of him, but he doesn’t allow you to take what you need from him. His tongue flicks your other nipple as you ride it out, your fingers finding their way into the hair at the back of his head and tugging gently at the dirty blond strands.

You finally drop down, burrowing your face in his neck. He smells like expensive cologne and whiskey, a hint of smokiness you can’t place marrying the two distinctive scents. Before you can relax, Kent finally angles his hips further down, just enough to push his heavy dick inside you. His hips meet yours as he bottoms out. Despite your orgasm and the abundance of wet between your thighs and coating Kent’s dick, the stretch still shocks a gasp out from between your lips. He holds you there for a moment, allowing just a second to adjust before pulling most of his length out and bullying it back in.

Each rough thrust earns a breathy moan until he sets a lazy pace, rolling his hips with every meet of your hips. The motion directs the head of his cock into your g-spot and you feel so full, so good. Kent wraps his hand lightly around your neck, squeezing just enough to increase your lightheadedness and pull you closer to him. Your eyes meet, faces only inches away. He licks his lips hungrily before leaning forward and pressing them to your swollen ones. It’s slow at first, trying to pick up one another’s rhythm. Your tongue grazes his bottom lip and he quickly opens his mouth to you, shoving his own past your lips. His hands grow grabby, fingers burying into the fat of your ass to help you meet his deep thrusts.

Kent has managed to maintain a rather stoic, dominant appearance thus far, but the mask begins to slip. He groans into your mouth, chest heaving under your palms, maneuvering your body to get himself off. As he pulls back to catch his breath, you whine, “Feels so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby girl,” he agrees, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Glancing over, you notice Sam’s hard expression, clearly not having enjoyed watching the two of you make out the way you’d enjoyed doing it. Kent follows your gaze. “Think your boyfriend is jealous.”

“I think so too.” You stick your bottom lip out, looking at the younger blond through your lashes as his dad fucks your slick cunt. “What’s wrong, Sammy?” The look on his face tells you that you’ll have a punishment to face after this is over. Being patronized in front of others never sits well with him, and his father is far from an exception in any scenario.

Kent pats your hip. “How ‘bout you kneel down and give him some attention.”

You slowly climb off his length, the void of his cock from your pussy almost paining you as you’d been well on your way to your next orgasm. Kent directs you to the middle cushion of the couch, your face at Sam’s crotch. At some point, he’d stopped playing with his cock and when you pull it back out from his boxers, it’s only half erect. With Sam, it never takes much to get the blood flowing to his dick and you love running your fingers over the silky length, watching it begin to throb and grow with minimal contact. Precum begins to pool in the tip again, leaking out onto his stomach as he gets hard and creating little strings of fluid connecting his cock head to his abdomen as his cock throbs in front of you. You feel the couch dip behind you, Kent kneeling as he positions his cock at your hole and reenters, filling you so good.

You take Sam’s cock in your hand, swirling his red tip around your tongue. You love to run it along the ridge of the underside of his head, Sam always so sensitive and responsive there. He lets out a deep breath, hand resting instinctively on the back of your head. You take your que, opening your mouth and letting his dick enter as Kent begins toying with your clit.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, but Sam and Kent set near identical paces on each hole. You feel so stuffed with Kent’s fat cock filling all the space in your pussy, walls clenching desperately around him each time he forces his way in, while Sam’s long dick reaches the back of your throat and forces drool to spill from your lips and down his shaft as he pushes your head down. His free hand grips at your neck; he loves to feel the head of his dick through your skin as he fights to get himself all the way into your mouth. The constant push and pull has you taking the full length of both cocks, no other option left with the men on either side of you both looking to bottom out inside you with each thrust. Fully used for their pleasure, and you love it as much as they seem to.

Deepthroating Sam for so long has his cock twitching wildly, raspy moans coming out with no control. “Gonna make your Daddy cum, baby,” he whines. He secures you by your hair, thrusts growing deeper and slower until he’s holding himself in your mouth with shallow little bucks of his hips. Your tongue licks the underside of his cock as you wait for the thick white strands to shoot down your throat. As he releases, he whimpers your name. It’s a sound that always brings you to the edge and tonight is no exception, cunt clenching around the cock inside it as you swallow up Sam’s cum, pulling off with a smile and a lick of your lips.

“So good, baby. C’mere.” Sam tilts your head upward as you lift yourself onto your palms, accepting his kisses while his father continues to fuck you. One hand rubs at your clit still while the other gropes at your waist, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. “Getting close?” Sam knows you so well, he can pick up on these things just by the sounds you make. You nod fervently. Kent grabs your tit, pushing your torso up quickly so your back hits his chest. He continues to pound you as his fingers toy with your clit and one of your nipples, fully on display for Sam. He climbs to his knees, running a thumb over your cheek so sweet while he studies your face twisting in pleasure, so close to your peak. The way Kent gropes you, you think he may be getting close too. “Don’t finish in her,” Sam says, receiving an irritated grunt from Kent.

“That’s her call.”

Sam gives you a pointed look. You know you should agree with him, but you’re not one to say no, especially when you’re this close to cumming and the last thing you want is to clench around nothing as you hit your peak. You skirt around giving a straight answer. “Whatever Daddy wants.”

Sam glares over your shoulder and you’re sure Kent is returning the gesture as he begins to fuck meanly into your cunt. He leans his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Cum for Daddy.” It only takes moments before you can follow his order, your hands clinging to Sam as you bury your face against his neck, unable to hold back loud, high-pitched moans. Sam holds you, running fingers through your hair as you’re fucked through your second orgasm. As you begin to come down, Kent delivers a few quick thrusts, hands tight on your hips as he bottoms out in you. A spurt of cum coats your cervix and you think he’s ignored Sam’s ask until he suddenly pulls out and sprays the rest of his load over your puffy wet lips. Sam seems to think he’s won, still not happy with the location of Kent’s cum but willing to accept it over a creampie. You stay quiet, sneaking a glance back at Kent as he strokes the last of his cum out of his cock, who gives you a subtle wink as he acknowledges his secret slight to Sam. The sound of his hand rubbing over his sticky cock fills the room, growing quiet as he finishes and collapses back to the couch. Sam dismisses you to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

When you return, still feeling the squish of Kent’s cum threatening to spill out of your pussy, the men are fully clothed. You grab your shirt from the floor, throwing it on without your bra. Sam begrudgingly hands over your panties he’d taken earlier and you slide those on, readjusting your skirt and joining the two on the couch. “So…” you say, “do you feel better?”

Kent chuckles, placing his hand on your bare knee. “I do. Sam was right about you.”

The younger man slings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close and pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. “Don’t get used to it. I have first dibs.”

“You don’t mind sharing,” Kent says.

Sam grunts. “Actually, I think that’s the last time I do anything nice.”

“Really? I liked being nice,” you smile innocently.

“You won’t like it later tonight,” he assures, confirming your theory of an impending punishment. “I’m going to clean up. You should probably get going, Dad. It’s getting late and Yoba knows Mom will freak out if you’re not home after Vincent goes to bed.”

Sam heads off to the bathroom, leaving you two alone as Kent pulls on his jacket near the front door. “That was… really nice,” he reiterates as you walk toward him to see him off. “Thank you. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” you blush.

“I mean what I said earlier.” You rack your brain, the recent events all blurring together right now. He leans in closer, voice dropping to that familiar tone that stirs something in your stomach. “Next time, you’re not cumming until my cock is in you. I don’t care if you take it better. It’s a waste to be doing that when I’m not inside you to fuck you dumb.” You bite your lip, looking up at him as you fidget with your fingers. “And next time, I’m not pulling out.” The sink in the bathroom begins to run, alerting the two of you to the closing gap of time you have alone. Kent leans in, stealing a long kiss that has you moving closer, not wanting to break away. He grins down at you, clearly satisfied with the way he’s able to lure you in now. “Thanks again, darlin’. See you soon.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

33 for ⚡️:

---

It all sort of happens at once. 

To Buck. Or not to Buck. Nothing is happening to Buck. It’s happening to everyone else. And that’s fine. That’s totally fine. Buck is an adult and he can totally handle changes that are great for other people and maybe not as great for him. He can. 

It starts with Bobby. 

At the end of their shift, he announces that he just received the news that Hen has passed her captain’s exam. Therefore, starting next month, she will be captain of the 118, while Bobby promotes to Battalion Chief. And, see, that’s excellent news. Really fantastic. Amazing for Hen, who absolutely deserves permanent rank as captain. Buck is thrilled for her. And he’s thrilled for Bobby, too. Even if he’s also kind of sad about it. 

Okay, not kind of sad. Very sad. Like he’s closing the book on a hugely important chapter of his life. Maybe it’s Buck’s fault. He’s holding on too tightly to that chapter. A lot has changed, after all. Marriage, home ownership, fatherhood. He’s not the kid that needed Bobby to show him how to be a man. Even if, a lot of the time, he still feels like he is. Maybe the best thing Buck can do is release his grip and let their relationship change. Not end. Change. Because certainly he’s never going to exit their lives, simply because of work. 

---

36 for 🪩:

---

In high school, Buck was mostly focused on football, and hadn’t taken grades or anything else too seriously. He’ll admit to spending a lot of time partying, taking part in senior pranks, and not attending class as often as he should have. Eddie had a pregnant girlfriend and was weeks away from enlisting. So… Yeah, no prom for him. He’d stopped giving a shit about high school the moment life became overwhelmingly more adult than he was ready for. 

On the other hand, Christopher is doing the whole thing right. Or, traditionally right. Eddie doesn’t want to attach moral value to how a kid is living their life at seventeen. He’s not his parents. However, Christopher in senior year is perhaps a representation of what a parent would hope their child would be doing. Certainly, Eddie is very proud of him. He’s focusing on his grades, he’s attending all the senior events, he’s got a great group of friends, and, for a reason neither Eddie or Buck understand, he volunteered for the prom committee. 

After the wedding date was chosen. He volunteered after the wedding date was finalized. 

They hadn’t thought much of it when he announced it. 

“It’s good on my applications and I want to help,” Chris had reasoned. So Eddie and Buck applauded him. After all, it’s good to get involved. Be proactive. Help out. Again, Eddie is very proud of the man his son is becoming. Incredibly proud. 

But by mid-May, things are getting sort of insane. 

Between work, wedding prep, and prom prep, Eddie thinks he’s going insane. He’s somehow a constant driver for Chris and his fellow prom committee member, Ainsley, to every decor and catering consultation trip. Ainsley is particular, and Chris seems to want to go along with her every whim, leaving Eddie as chauffeur to two type-A teenagers. Lots of stuff is being stored at the house, which is already full of wedding stuff. On top of that, his phone always seems to be ringing. Caterers, venues, tailors, etcetera. Eddie hates planning events, he’s learned. Even if he’s just in the periphery, with Chris or Buck actually being the ones doing the planning. He just knows. He hates it. 

[doll-elvis]

there’s really nothing cuter in this world than Elvis interacting with babies 😭

footage from “Elvis on Tour”

[al-luviec]

I got so insanely mad while drawing this

+ closeup and normalness

[moeblob]

I'm on an OC kick and also super indecisive so I spun a wheel (thank you for choosing for me, RNG).

Ricardo is a body guard and is bffs with Marlo. Ricardo's current job is watching after a celebrity's daughter who the public doesn't know even exists. She's just a teenage girl vibing with her mom and getting texts and calls from her dad (who loves her a whole lot and keeps her out of the spotlight very purposefully) and has this bodyguard and his weird friend. Marlo is just vibing with his best friend.

(Also Marlo would absolutely laugh if he heard Ricardo say "someone called me eye candy and it wasn't you and now I think you should call me that")

[autism-alley]

Honestly another thing that annoys me about Gabe's death in the show is that the downplayed nature of the abuse makes his fate, for lack of a better word, inappropriate. Gabe being an explicitly physically and emotionally abusive bastard was what warranted him dying in the book. Yes, he is still financially abusive in the show, but he's more of a pathetic slob than a monster. Contemptable, sure, but hardly worth killing. At best, his death is a tasteless gag. At worst, it's disproportionate retribution.

fr like. after the first episode i was like well what the hell are they gonna do at the end of the series? from episode one it was always gonna be either don’t kill off the loser and commit to erasing a woman and her child’s story of surviving abuse, or do kill off the loser and have it be a completely unjustified killing (not only bc of the reduced abuse but bc they outright state sally divorced him!! book sally had no other alternative divorce financially was Not on the table!!). he might have been killed by his own hand in-universe, but the writers made that call, purposefully, to condemn his actions so severely they warrant death. i’ve seen people who don’t even believe his death was warranted in the books just out of the principle all killing is wrong—my opinion is firstly it’s fiction but secondly it sends a pretty clear fucking message that you don’t get to be an abusive fuck and walk away scott-free. self-defense and justice have a right to serve consequences, and sometimes those consequences are your wife with righteous blood lust and a desperate need for education funds

[definitelynotnia]

im sorry i have to rant im so fucking pissed

my exams end on 19th and I have to get rid of some books and buy some books which are quite pricy online so I had planned on going to college street on 20th and selling my books and buying the new ones at a cheap price and i was frankly really excited about it because all I get is a one day break to relax bcz i have to start studying for entrances from 21st so all I have is 20th and i wanted to spend it at college street and then get some food and basically have like a solo date kind of thing.

and i was so so excited about it i told my boyfriend about it like 500 times bcz i kept forgetting i've already mentioned it and it was literally on my mind a lott so i kept bringing it up and ik it seems like not a big deal cz i can just sit at home and chill too but i literally do not get to go outside my house. like- the last time i went out was new years eve and after that the only time i've gone out is to school or to give my boards that is it. my mother has some weird like problem wiht me going out like even if i tell her that i just want to go to our terrace for 5 minutes just to get some fresh air she won't even allow that she'll be all suspicious and like sTaNd In ThE bAlCOnY aNd TaKe FrEsH aIr like she herself doesnt leave the house (and blames it on me and my brother ???? when have we ever stopped you bro, she said I HaVe To Be HeRe To KeEp An EyE like im 18 i dont need to be watched 24/7 stop blaming me for choices you put upon yourself) and i just feel so suffocated ALL THE TIME i feel so overstimulated and im so sick of rotting on my bed and i dont want to wait for some birthday party or friends meet up to be able to leave my goddamn house i just wanted to go and have a fun day and get me some books thats it.

anyway so initially the plan was that my mom would go along but something came up so she wanted to postpone it to 21st and i didn't want to bcz i'd already be missing 3 days bcz of my boyfriends birthday, holi and my brothers birthday (all of which are important and i dont want to miss which makes me the villain apparently bcz i should "adjust" and cancel my "parties" instead of trying to stick to my plan bcz that makes me too demanding and selfish apparently) so i suggested that ukw why dont u go do ur thing which came up and i'll go to college street by myself...which is when the solo date idea came which i had really wanted all along but didnt bring up bcz i knew she'd say no but now there's a valid reason for me to go alone so like, its a pretty easy fix i can just go alone but noooo. First of all,

I've been to college street multiple times before so its not like its an unknown area to me

im going by metro which is quite safe

im going when there is stark daylight and i will return home much much before it gets dark and im literally 18

she never lets me go anywhere alone, not even take ubers alone if i want to get back from somewhere my bf has to come drop me everytime and then go backwards to his house which is so so so stupid and i never get to go out alone unless accompanied by family or by a male friend, so obv when i said i'll go to college street alone she refused to let that happen and started screaming about how 'if its so important to go on 20th bcz u dont want to miss a day of studying then cancel ur 'parties' and study then' and i was like no its not about missing a day its just that there's a very easy and logical fix to this problem which is i go alone and its not inconveniencing anyone so why cant i just do that but she will not listen to that bcz im 'adamant' and 'everything has to be according to me' bcz i found a viable solution to the problem. so instead of letting me just go she was literally ready to pay much more money and buy the books online, like.....why cant i just go bro??? (and she keeps telling me im a waste of her money bcz i will amount to nothing in life and my education was a failed investment or wtv so like now why are u wasting more money??? im literally trying to save the money that u 'waste' on me so just let me ???)

anyway i called my dad last night and told him and he was super ok with the idea he said its a good idea that i go alone and that he would speak to her but then today when i asked her if dad spoke to her she said yes, we'll go on 20th and i was like .....we? so apparently she CANCELLED her previously immovable thing for which she wanted me to cancel my 'parties', she cancelled that and agreed to go with me on 20th just so that i dont get to go alone- like ???????????????? what is ur problemmmm

so obv i was super annoyed and i went on a whole ass rant about how i literally struggle to even cross roads bcz i dont know shit about basic travelling bcz all my life ive been in a car and its a running joke with all my guy friends that i 'cannot navigate' and 'dont know any places' and obv??? if im never allowed to go anywhere then how tf will i know the places- the only places i know is bcz recently i've been paying a lot of attention and asking my dad stuff about what roads to take to reach certain places and when i go out with my friends i kind of try and learn a bit but thats it i've only ever gone alone completely alone to two places which is my beauty parlour thats 5 minutes away from my house and one bazaar one time that was 2 bus stops away, thats it. thats my extent of public travelling alone. and now im supposed to go to a whole new STATE for college and i cant even call myself an auto without struggling. and like- is this not a basic life skill??? like ok yeah its not rocket science and i will probably figure it out even if i start later in life but why not now? most of my guy friends literally go everywhere alone, why not me? and my dad agreed with all of this but my mom was just like "you'll be in the hostel only, no need to go out of the campus" like ARE YOU FOR REAL????????? and she's like "if u want to learn skills learn how to cook" like ok yes i will also learn how to cook for sure but i wont have a fucking kitchen in the hostel but somehow cooking is an urgent skill i should learn but going places by myself is unimportant bcz i should just never? leave? the? hostel?

anyway after much screaming and shouting my dad gave up and just cut the call bcz he doesnt want to get into an argument with my mother and my mother was being all suspicious like why do u hAvE tO gO aLoNe AlL oF a SuDdEn even though i literally explained why i want to do this alone but she doesnt think thats valid. so she refuses to let me go and i asked her for one reason why i shouldnt cz usuallt its always "no u have exam what if smthn happens" but now i literally dont even have exam so whats ur excuse now? streets will always be unsafe forever so "what if smthn happens" is not a reason to never let me go out without a man so just gimme one reason and she couldnt give me a single reason she just said "i said no, thats it".

and now she's gone off about how im useless and blah blah and "high maintainance" bcz i want books and "everyone else (some pishi's son) just studies online" and so the whole option of college street is apparently now cancelled and she's trying to set up a whole ass kindle account (half the books i need arent even available as ebooks) just because i wanted to go by myself.