#and he says that he is old but he is 30 he works out he isn't alcoholic he can choose to have a better life

[swytdoll]

(19)virgin!choso has the hots for his older neighbor(35):(

perverted. that’s how he felt as he watched you wash your car, in shorts so tiny they were practically underwear and a white tank top that was so soaked it was see through. the way the fabric clung to your breasts made his mouth water. he had been staring for at least 30 minutes and had gotten to see them from all angles. it was torture, sweet torture. he wanted to take you right then and there in the grass and hear his name on your lips over and over.

you were old enough to be his mom. in fact, he had had you as a teacher back when he was in high school and that made him feel guilty for looking at you like this. but he just couldn't stop. he couldn’t stop himself from fantasizing about being with an older woman, one that knew what she was doing and knew how to use him. you would make him feel like your toy and he wanted that.

you looked up and caught his eyes. he blushed bright red and quickly turned away. maybe if he had kept looking he would have noticed the smirk on your lips.

you were a teacher in more ways than one. you could teach him how to be a good boy and give you the pleasure you deserved. he wanted to sink into the ground when you began to approach him. you were smiling sweetly, but your eyes said something different.

you leaned against the fence separating your property and his, propping up one of your arms on it. you gave him a soft grin and he wanted to die. you’re so pretty to him. glowing eyes framed with thick wispy lashes, pretty plump lips. he can't look away, mesmerized, he watches the way your lips part and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet them. the sight makes his blood run hot and his shorts grow tighter.

"hello mister kamo," you hummed, "where are your parents?"

"i-i'm sorry i-" had he been caught? were you gonna tell on him?

"what's the matter? are you nervous?" you cooed, "i just wanted to say hi to your mom, see if she needed anything for the barbecue later. is she around?"

"she's- um- out. getting groceries," he replied quietly, not daring to meet your eyes.

"oh? and what about your father?"

"he's...working late," choso said. he was sweating and the bulge in his shorts was now painfully obvious. he wanted to die, to disappear from embarrassment. you smiled and let out a giggle.

"are you okay mister kamo? you seem awfully nervous." you’re batting those lashes and he swears he could melt, he clears his throat. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine, totally fine!" he blurted out, "i'll- uh- tell them you said hi."

"okay," you quipped sweetly and began to walk back to your house, "if you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

he nodded, "okay."

his head was spinning and he couldn't think straight. he didn't want to be alone, didn't want to go inside, didn't want to leave and miss seeing you again. he could still smell the strawberry of your shampoo from where he was. it was intoxicating.

"choso," you called out and he snapped out of his daze.

"yes, miss?"

"can you come help me? i dropped my hose and it's really hard to pick up."

"o-okay."

you lead him around the side of your house and he saw the hose was indeed on the ground, the water running. his hands were shaking, but he bent down and picked it up anyway. the moment he stood, you grabbed his hand and placed it right on your chest. he squeaked and tried to pull away, but you held him tight.

"you can touch me," you hummed, "i don't mind. is that why you were watching me? do you like older women?"

"i- uh- well- you- you're-"

"use your words, choso," you chastised him and moved his hand lower, making him rub his fingers over your nipple, "good boys speak when spoken to. did i ever teach you that?"

"y-yes," he whined and his hips bucked into the air. you gave him a wicked smile and pushed him to the ground. he landed on his back, legs sprawled out. his cock was standing up, pressing against his shorts and there was a dark stain where his tip was.

"such a cute little thing," you giggled and knelt down in front of him. you grabbed his legs and pulled them apart before getting between them. he squirmed and you grabbed his hands, pinning them to the ground.

"please," he whimpered.

"please what? be a good boy and tell me what you want," you cooed, pressing his hands into the ground.

"i- um- please...touch me," he whispered.

"like this?" you hummed and reached down to rub his clothed erection. he bucked his hips into your hand and moaned.

"yes, please, miss," he gasped.

"good boy," you purred and kissed him, he was putty. "so good for me."

your hands moved to his hips and he lifted them so you could pull his shorts down. his cock was already leaking and twitching.

"you poor thing, did you get this hard just from looking at me?"

"y-yes, miss," he moaned, "i couldn't stop thinking about you, how pretty you were and how much i wanted you."

"oh, you're such a good boy, telling me exactly what you want," you cooed and gripped his cock, stroking it slowly, "i should give you a reward, hm?"

"please, please, please," he whined, his hips twitching up.

"okay," you replied and leaned forward. you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, smearing the pre-cum on your lips before wrapping them around him. his back arched and he let out a loud moan. he couldn’t believe this, anyone could see him and you. his parents could walk past the fence and catch you sucking off their son. but that was part of the fun. it was forbidden and he loved that.

the sounds of your gurgled chokes as you slurp his cock are like a siren's song to him, the way you so dutifully suckle him to the base and take his entire length in your mouth without a trace of resistance. your jaw is slack as he slides between your lips, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, urging you forward until your nose is pressed into his belly. he's so big that even though your eyes are rolled back, your vision is obscured by the sheer size of his erection. your throat feels like a fleshy sheath for him, your breath forced out in tiny, rapid huffs through your nostrils, and your tongue is pinned.

and you're not just sucking his cock, either. you're swallowing. and every time your esophagus clenches down around the head of his dick, it sends him hurtling closer and closer towards an orgasm that he's determined to wring out of you first. he can feel you starting to struggle for air, but the way you're still obediently sucking his cock even while your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen.

“god," he rumbles, his voice like the sound of boulders shifting together. his grip on the back of your head tightens, and he grinds against your face, your nose and lips mashed up against his skin.

your stomach growls and churns in a desperate plea for nourishment, but the way he fills your throat is a completely different hunger. you can taste his pre-cum, his magic thick and warm and tingling on your tongue, and you suck and swallow with more enthusiasm. even though you're struggling to breathe, the idea of drinking his cum makes you feel like a starving woman given the key to a buffet.

"j-just like that," he praises you, his words coming out in a hiss as you clench down on him, your throat tightening in a futile attempt to keep his cock from pushing so deep into your airway. he whines when you withdraw, a string of saliva connecting you two.

"you taste so good, choso," you murmured, "have you had many girls do this to you?"

"n-no, miss, never," he groaned, "only you."

"and do you want only me to do this to you? do you want me to be the only one that knows how good you taste and how cute you sound?"

"yes! yes, miss! i want it to be only you, please," he babbled. you smirked and kissed his hip.

"well then, i better take good care of my boy, huh?"

"please, please," he whined, pushing his hips toward you.

"okay, i'll make you feel really good, sweetie."

you took his cock back into your mouth, licking at the tip and stroking the rest. his head was spinning and he could hardly breathe. you felt too good, looked too good, sounded too good. your soft lips wrapped around him, sucking and licking, teasing and pleasing. it was too much and yet not enough. his body was on fire, burning and aching.

his knees buckle as your warm hand palms his balls and your tongue traces the veins of his cock. he lets out a whine and grips your hair. you pull off his dick, letting it fall against his stomach. you press a few soft kisses to his tip, watching as his cock twitches.

"miss," he whimpered, "it hurts, please."

"what does, sweetheart?" you asked.

"please, let me cum, miss," he begged.

"already? did i make you that horny?"

"please, miss," he whined and bucked his hips.

"alright," you hummed, taking him back into your mouth.

"thank you," he breathed.

you bobbed your head, taking him as deep as you could. his fingers tightened in your hair and he bucked his hips. your nose pressed against his pelvis and your throat clenched around him.

"i'm close," he moaned, "i can't, fuck, it's so good."

a few more thrusts, and his movements become erratic. you're dizzy from oxygen deprivation, the edges of your vision growing dark, when suddenly his cock twitches inside you, and his hot, sticky cum fills your stomach. there's so much of it that you're actually able to feel yourself swell a little with the volume of his release, and the sensation makes you whimper and whine.

"you did so well," you cooed, crawling up and laying next to him, "was that your first time?"

"yeah. . . s-sorry i finished so quick." he mumbled, cheeks tinted brightly.

"you did so good," you repeated, pressing a kiss to his temple, he felt like he was going to pass out.

“i’ll see you tonight at the barbecue, yeah?”

he nods, fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him.

*peeps around corner* dare i say part 2?

[queer-froggit]

i'm ending it here because i'm boutta be here all day lol

ramble under the cut!!!!

lust's friend group is very tiny because everyone judges him for his job, but they're also all sanses so they're like "eh, not my problem" and really just ignore him, and even besides them lust has to work to get people to respect him. horror and lust are frenemies because they HATED each other at first sight- horror was very vocal about his prejudices and lust doesn't take shit from anybody. however, they're both old men just trying to get through their hell of a day without killing themselves, and they find common ground in that (same thing with lust and cross, except for them it's more lust teaching cross how to take himself seriously and turning into rivals instead) in my interpretation, lust dated a lot of people before realizing he was aro, with blue being his longest relationship. a lot of shit happened, but they're besties now.

horror and wine are frenemies because lthough they relate to ecah other, they do it in a "i pity you way", which pisses them both off. horror could never work for the royal guard, and i like to think horror takes his brother to move in with farm after leaving nightmare. it's basically saejun teaching him how to be a person again, and i think geno and farm would also make nice friends, since "old men who have finally learned to be content with what they have" trope. speaking of geno, i think he HATES reaper, like hate hate. i still haven't read aftertale, my only sources are analysis and pages out of order, but it just feels right to say? reaper likes pissing people off, so he sees geno as a pal because of this hate.

reaper and wine are dreams mentors, since reaper was supposed to have an appearance in dreamtale. reaper is more of a "using to learn your god powers" mentor while wine is "using your societal power", but they basically teach him that not everyone is going to want to be buddy buddy, and that's not something he should see as a failure (since they both have gone through the horrors). wine sees black as a more upbeat version of himself, but nox is always trying to be an opp, so he sees to reason to be friends. also they all hate fell because they think he's lazy and all bark yet no bite lol.

dust and fell are obviously friends in canon, but i feel like they especially relate because of their feeling of being trapped in hell and having to be guarded all the time (they're SO 30 for 30 by sza coded it's ridiculous), and if not romantic, i think that feeling can get familial. horror sees fell as a fake though, because he thinks underfell is just "undertale but they say fuck", so he thinks fell is all talk while he knows he wouldn't survive a DAY in horrortale (no one would), but dust and horror are friends, so horror forces himself to tolerate fell and give him advice about surviving (but more in a condescing tone).

sci and fell are a secret third thing because i could see them being siblings, rival friends or romantic (curse you cpau) so idk. same thinf with wine and cross because they're both royal guards who have gone through dictatorships, so they should relate to each other, but tehy're both bitches so they would probably be enemies, but them sparring would be so perfect???? maybe like a "my mentor is a bitch but it's to train me to do better", which works perfectly because cross is always trying to get people to see him as a superior, and wine always feels superior (but it's to do the same thing as cross), so wine talking down to him riles him up enough to try and beat him, and they can both let their stress out when they spar :) (they eventually realize that they've been living in a dictatorship where rheir leader has been incredibly selfish, don't worry)

swap and blueberror... idk how to explain it. i think they're very jinx and ekko coded. blueberror is the more hyper and blunt version of swap, and swap has to calm him down sometimes, but they would be besties because they bounce off of each other 👍

nightmare and ink are colleagues beacuse i said so :) ink is nightmare's equivalent of people watching video essays as background noise. also nightmare wanted to study fresh because he sees him as an anomaly (someone whose emotions he can't read, yet feels uneasy around him, depsite not knowing who he is), but then learned like one thing about him and decided not to open that can of worms. fresh just thinks nightmare is weird.

i think that's it... thank you for the chart sign!

Ship chart but it’s not a ship chart it’s a friendship/found family/QPR chart

[louisaguy]

slow horses timeline stuff

because i'm procrastinating doing work.

disclaimer: this is all for show timeline & show canon. the books are their own thing and have a different timeline. this is show only.

FORMAT: dates we know // how we know it

the show:

s1- likely february 2016 // february: struan's line "it's february!" when louisa suggests christmas drinks. 2016: estimate based off of time of s2

s2- 2016 // min's plaque reads 2016

s3- 2017 // between s2 and s4. also, spider flosses. ergo 2017.

s4- early january 2018 // early january: right after christmas (roddy's mishap with the christmas party, christmas decorations still up). 2018: catherine's calendar in her flat is on january 2018.

backstory things:

bad sam gets isobel from les arbres- "early nineties" // via giti's dialogue. i will circle back to this

charles partner's death- 1996 // partner's plaque has 1996 as death date at the end of s2

rose's (river's grandmother's) death- 2010 // her gravestone in s4

stansted- july/summer 2015 // 8 months pre s1

timeline errors / things that bother me:

river's age- so, you have two options here. option one, via dialogue: we take giti's "bad sam only went to france once in the early nineties" as truth. therefore sam gets a pregnant isobel out of les arbres in the early nineties (let's say 1990/1991, but you can place it anywhere in the early nineties you like). then river is born a few months later (judging by the fact that isobel was already starting to show when sam picked her up). so river's birth date: 1991? or some other point in the early nineties.

option two, via props: river says his mother left him postcards for his "seventh, eighth, and ninth birthdays". one of said cards has the date 1994 written on it (can be seen in the scene where he's looking at them in the shoebox). if we assume that's the one for his seventh birthday, that puts him being born around 1987.

the difference between these doesn't matter that much (it's the difference of him being 27 in s4 vs 31 in s4), except for how it shifts river's relation to other events-- e.g., option one says he'll be left with david and rose around 1997 (or maybe a few years later if you put his birth date in 1992/93, since "early nineties" is vague), AFTER partner's death. vs theory two puts him being left with his grandparents in 1993, solidly before partner is killed. i do think it's interesting to consider whether david already had a cute little blonde boy doting on him at home when he was planning charles' assassination or not. so depending on which river-age theory you choose to follow, river's relation to other backstory events may change (or you could always just do the old "river's age is nebulous and he is however old i need him to be for this specific fic i'm writing" thing lol).

it also means he was sososo young in s1 if you follow theory #1. him being born in 1991 would mean he would be like 23/24 when stansted happened 🥺🥺🥺 BABYYYY. an actual INFANT. (theory 2 would have him at 27/28 during stansted).

characters headstones say they're too young to make sense- partner and rose- partner's plaque says his birth date is 1948... and so if he died in 1996... he would have been 48 years old when he died................. i'm sorry but this man is NOT under fifty. the actor they cast to play him in the flashbacks is like 75 lmfao. i think this is just an error-- him being 48 when he died would make him more of a contemporary with lamb (who would have been in his 40s at partner's death) rather than with david (and considering lamb kinda came up under partner's wing-- at least from the books, but that's the vibe i get from the show too-- i think partner should be at least a decade or so older than lamb). it would also make him like 20 years younger than david (who'd be in his 60s when partner died). i just don't think it makes sense. i would bump his birth date back to 1938 or maybe even 1928, to make him more of a contemporary with david (who was born sometime in the 30s, since louisa says he's 80-something in s4(2018)).

as for rose, her headstone in s4 says 1953-2010. that 1953 date is suspect to me. we know david is 80-something in s4. let's take him to be the youngest possible to give ourselves the greatest margin of error. then he'd be born in 1938. now let's follow theory 1 of river's age (again providing the kindest possible interpretation to rose's age), making him born around 1991. assuming isobel was around 20 when she had river, this means she would be born in ~1971. which would make rose... 18. when she had isobel. which would be fine, except that in 1971 david would be... 33. hmmmmmm.

and remember this is the kindest POSSIBLE interpretation, assuming david is the youngest possible (just barely 80 in s4) and that river is also the youngest possible (born 1991). if you interpret either or both of them as older than that, then isobel's birth shifts earlier and/or david's age shits older, making david and rose's age gap at her birth even more suspect. for example taking river's birth date in 1987 (a la theory 2) would make rose only 14 when isobel would have to be born (assuming isobel was 20ish when she had river). i mean, it's POSSIBLE this was an intentional implication that rose and david had a skeevy age gap? but i doubt it. considering they were trying to claim that the 75 year old james faulkner was playing a 48 year old charles partner in the flashback, and river's age is already an ambiguous mess, i'm more inclined to say that this was just a mistake. i would just bump rose's birth date to be 1943 instead-- still younger than david (who was born sometime in the 30s), but not, uh. illegally so.

fwiw, i think a lot of these timeline errors come from the confusing detail that while the show is AIRING in the early 2020s, its SET in the late 2010s. so like, river's birth date for example, i think they wanted him to be 31ish in s4, and someone correctly subtracted that from 2018 for the postcards (2018-31 = 1987, so river's 7th birthday would be 1987+7=1994). meanwhile, for the dialogue, someone else accidentally subtracted it from modern day instead (2024-31= 1993, so sam fetching pregnant-isobel from les arbres would be just before that in "the early nineties"). partner's age error i also think comes from subtracting from the modern day when s2 was airing (2022-74=1948) without accounting for the fact that the 75 year old man we're seeing as him is meant to be that old in 1996, not in the modern day (because he's only seen in flashbacks).

and also a lot of this comes from the fact that these are all "flashes-on-screen-for-one-second" props and brief lines of dialogue, and they didn't expect someone to care enough to come along and try to do the math.

but too bad! i'm here! i want to do the math!

my personal interpretation of character ages:

some based on textual evidence, others just estimating based on actors' ages. in general, take what you like and ignore what doesn't work. the timelines are already fuzzy enough that you can fudge it in any direction you like haha, just use whatever works best for your current fic/project. but here are my takes:

river- born 1987/1991 (both interpretations are equally valid imo). makes him either 29-31 or 25-27 for the run of the show.

louisa- mid 30s likely? mostly going by rosalind eleazar's age.

catherine- late 50s/early 60s (going by saskia reeves' age, and also would make her late 30s/early 40s when partner died, which sounds right [& is consistent with the book, though that doesn't count for much imo since the book and show are such divergent things timeline-wise])

lamb- early-mid 60s (gary oldman's age, and him being a contemporary of catherine seems right)

roddy- early/mid 30s?

shirley- early 30s, marcus- late 30s (an inversion of their actors' ages, but necessary because marcus says in the show he's 5 years older than shirley)

min- mid 40s

(i do love that no matter how you slice it, river is def the baby of the slough house family haha. that feels right. oh EXCEPT maybe sid!!)

sid- probably young like river, late 20s/early 30s.

david- 80ish. i'd put him at 81-83 throughout the run of the show (birth date 1935ish), but you could go younger and say 79-81 or something like that. importantly of a different and older cohort than lamb/catherine/sam etc.

partner- fuck it i'm going against the plaque let's say he's born 1928, would put him at age 68 when he died in 1996. more consistent with the actor's age, and puts him solidly as a contemporary of david, NOT of lamb. plus the way catherine talks about him like a sweet old man it makes more sense for there to be more of an age gap between her and partner. so say he was 68 when he died in 1996, meanwhile david was 61, lamb would be mid 40s and catherine would be ~40. that seems right to me.

if david was born in 1935 i'll put rose at 1943. would make her late 20s when isobel is born, late 40s when river is born, 67 at her death (and river would be 19/23 at her death btw depending on which river age theory you subscribe to, in case that's helpful for angst/backstory reasons)

idk everyone else can just be the age of their actors i guess, but if you're writing stuff in the past remember to subtract correctly from the late 2010s not the early 2020s!! or i mean don't. it doesn't really matter. none of this actually matters lol

anyway. whew. that was a lot. sorry i just spat a million words about pointless timeline shenanigans all over you. i do this for fun.

(pspspspsps slow horses creative team let me proofread your timeline math i'll do it for free this is fun for me pspspspsps)

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART THREE)

I stirred in bed and heard Braden shuffle on the other side of the mattress. My son wasn't a morning person, and now that Bill Jr. was 4, Brade really preferred to sleep in. I loved to let him, and on weekdays I'd fix breakfast for Junior and get him ready and off to preschool on my way to work.

I would let my son-husband sleep in on Saturday, too, but we now had this ritual.

"Hmmm..." I heard his deep morning voice growl as his thickly muscled body scooted over to mine, resting his strong arm on my chest. Braden always had a great body, but he'd spent the last few years dedicating an hour at the gym on most days and I found myself married to a 28-year old who could be a freakin' porn star.

I always woke up with morning wood, like clockwork, but the warmth and body contact had me raging hard.

"Morning, babe," I said, kissing his forehead and running my hand along the knotted tricep.

"What time's tee time?" I heard his groggy voice ask.

"8:30," I said.

"Goddamnit," Braden said. He made a point never to curse around Junior, which meant when it was just us, his sailor mouth was in full force. "Fucking Fiedler."

I chuckled. My son and I had become good friends with both of the Dr. Fiedlers, Adam, father, and son Todd, and we often did double dates. There was the bond of being incest couples and the shared experience of navigating parenthood in that context. While both were "Dr. Fielder" to me, Braden used Fiedler to refer to his doctor, Todd, while he called the dad Adam.

"My golf date is with both of them," I said. "With a new fourth. Todd says he found another man in a relationship like ours."

That woke Braden up. "Yeah?" he asked, looking at me to see if I was on the level. Brade no longer had a buzz cut but his hair was short and thinning already. In the morning it was matted down in a sexy bed head way.

I nodded, patting his side. "He was cagey about the details, but I don't think he was bullshitting me."

"Wow," my son said. "That would be incredible." We both craved to connect to other father-son couples, Braden especially. Incest was amazing, but a lonely experience.

Braden's hand traveled down slowly from my chest over my furry stomach. I didn't have my son's six pack, nor his thick muscle, but I kept trim and in shape for 45. Brade seemed to love what I had going on.

Particular a few inches lower. I grunted when I felt his strong fingers circle around my prick.

"That feels nice, buddy," I hissed.

"Yeah?"

"Hell yeah. Always does."

"I love this cock, Dad," my son said. "It fucking made me."

That dick surged in his fist. Even if we had a ritual, it never got old. To the contrary.

I looked Brade square in the eye as I lay back and let him stroke me. "It made Junior, too."

"Aw fuck!" Braden grunted. That was the button to push all right. He pounced forward for a kiss. He tried to take charge of it, but I battled back with my tongue. I won that battle, but otherwise my son was in charge, climbing on top of me. Braden was four inches shorter than me but with his brawn I definitely had that pleasant feel of his weight on top.

We made out as Brade kind of humped and writhed.

"Let me drive, today, Dad?" he hissed.

"You got it, Sport."

This was going to have to be a quickie. Bill Jr. would probably wake soon and while our son probably could content himself watching cartoons on his ipad, as a married couple you have to find the private moments when you could take them.

We had a discreet container for our lube next to the bed, and I watched Braden's thick muscle flex as he reached over to pump a good bit out. For longer sessions, we didn't use so much, but for a quick entry, my son loved a super slick cock.

I was gonna be really frickin' wet, I realized, as that palm wrapped around my phallus once more.

Braden was horny but more in his quiet, relaxed early morning way. And maybe lost in thought. "The new guys..." he asked. "You think the dad is the top or bottom?"

"Dunno, Brade," I said. "Some guys are both. Or neither, I suppose," I answered.

Braden didn't comprehend that. He'd told me that for him sex was about being penetrated, or getting me to cum. Maybe if he'd been more vers, he could have talked me into switching things up, but I loved being his father that way. Dad on top. Being the breeding stud for my Brade.

Still, I knew some men were wired differently, like the Fiedlers.

Braden settled over my lap, looking down and bracing one hand on the headboard of the bed as his other reached behind to guide my cock into place.

"You're horny, Dad," he said.

I nodded. "It's been a couple of days, buddy."

"I know," he said. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," I said, running my hands along his thighs. Brade had really been hitting leg day. "We get sex when we can."

Brade got a shyly playful look on his handsome face, as he wiggled his hips back on to my dick, nudging his hole into place. "It's gonna be even trickier when the next one is born."

This was frequent with me and my son. Talking about impregnation and procreation, talking about the family we were raising and the sons we were going to sire.

But this was more than sex talk, I knew. Brade was feeling me out. "You itching to get knocked up again, Brade?" I grunted. This was sex talk, and real talk, and the fact they were one in the same was getting to me.

He pushed himself down. Even with out experience, Braden's experience, his kind of quick entry was tough for him, but he relished the way my slickness meant he was being bored with a few inches of dad cock. He winced but his cock twitched and bounced from his crotch.

We were incest fucking once more, like we could never get enough of.

"So ready, Dad," Braden hissed. "Whenever you're ready, Dad, just tell me and I'll stop taking those fucking pills."

I loved the tight hot feel of Braden's guts clenching my prick and descending down. "We'll talk about it, OK?" Real talk and sex talk could collide, but Braden and I were going to make the next pregnancy a planned one, decided in a sober conversation, not while fucking.

"Of course, Dad," he said, maybe a little too loud. Jesus, he was gonna wake Junior.

He rode me slowly, sensually. His goal was to relax his hole and his insides, but it also felt amazing on my lubed dick, like I was being slowly jacked.

"But say the word and I'm ready.... I wanna be so fucking fertile for you, Dad."

I gripped his hips now and pumped in. Ready or not, I need to actively fuck my son.

"Yes!" Braden hissed. It was intense for him, but I could tell he was imagining me planting my seed in him, my sperm fertilizing his egg.

"You're such a handsome fuck," I growled. "Love you, Sport."

"Love you, Dad. Oh shit!" he let go of his prick to keep from cumming. Instead he angled his upper body up to focus on taking my cock.

"I thought you were driving today, Brade," I teased, pumping up more excitedly into his ass.

"You're in charge, Dad. Fucking take me."

"I am..." I grunted. I was so close, and this was one of those fucks where I was riding the edge of orgasm without topping over. "Can't wait to knock you up, kiddo."

"Please dad. Impregnate me."

"Make another incest baby?" OK, I was getting real close now. My hips were thrusting gaster.

"Hell yeah, Dad. How many grandkids do you want?"

Something about those words but also the tone in which Brade said them had me coming, hard. I held onto his hips in a vice grip and fired several jets of my cum into his guts.

Excitedly, Brade gripped his bone and tugged and like that I was getting showered with my son's seed. It had been a while since he'd ridden me and I enjoyed the novelty of a Braden cum shower.

We kissed, softly, catching our breath and letting our heart rate come back to normal.

Our shower together was efficient and quick. I had to get to the golf course, and the sex had taken longer than I expected.

***

This was our way of maintaining a healthy balance as parents and as a married couple. Saturday was my own personal day for me-time, which in good weather meant playing golf. On Sundays, Braden got to do his own thing, which usually meant hanging out with his buddy Jackson, either going off to do some outdoor or athletic thing, or just watching football.

The Fiedlers sometimes played golf separately, but on Saturdays, both Adam and Todd were there in their knit shirts and shorts. Adam was an incredible golfer, whereas Todd had the power swings that could either make for a great game or a lousy one. I was a decent player but mostly enjoyed the game and the break from the routine of work and parenting. And I'd enjoyed bonding with the Fiedlers.

I related to Adam and Todd in different ways, but with either man... well, we'd opened up a lot. Guy talk, discussing the emotional side of married life, particularly in an incest couple, and even frank talk about our sex lives. With anyone else it would feel like a betrayal of trust with Braden, but I knew these guys would keep anything private, and I knew a lot about them. I had no one else to talk to, and maybe it's something a man needs.

Sure, there was some sexual tension, too, but we channeled that into crude jokes and double entendre, without danger of slipping into anything more.

When I got to the club house, I saw the fourth in our party. He looked to he a high school kid, until I got closer and figured he was closer to 19 or 20. About 5'8" with a compact body.

"Hey," came the voice. Adult but very young sounding, like a frat dude rushing at university.

"Bill Drake," I said, offering my hand to shake it.

"Jeff Connors." He smiled but seemed nervous.

Adam Fiedler patted my shoulder. "Bill's part of our special fraternity, Jeff... you can be free around him."

"Yeah?" the young man asked excitedly. But maybe feeling out of his element.

I nodded. "I don't know what these men have shared, but yes." I was nervous too, but something about Jeff's shyness brought out my protective side. I looked over at Todd. Dr. Fiedler. "I guess we got all morning to get acquainted."

My doctor grinned. "Especially cause you get to ride in the cart with him, Bill. Dad's upset he doesn't get to flirt with the dude."

Adam gave a hearty laugh. "Todd told me to be on my best behavior."

The younger doctor gave a mock-annoyed look. "Come on, Dad. You're teeing off first."

***

The first hour was a lot of small talk. Jeff was a college freshman, rising sophomore, home for the summer. My guess that he was a fraternity man was a good one, and in most ways young man Connors seemed like a typical college kid. Into partying but also finding himself and his goals in life. Kind of goofy in his humor but naive and serious about the world, too.

It was after the tenth hole, when he opened up. We'd gotten into the cart after a long drive. I pulled off and I heard him say softly. "Dad doesn't want me talking about things with anyone else, but I feel like was gonna explode if I kept it all inside you know?"

I looked over at him. I almost patted his knee but felt that would be appropriate. "Your dad has a point, but I know how you feel, buddy."

He smiled, a nervous but genuine smile. "Thanks, Bill. You, um..."

I could tell he thought it was too wild to ask. I leaned into the trust of the situation and wanted to show Jeff he could trust me. "I've been with my son Braden for ten years... been married for seven of them."

The frat dude's face lit up. "Wow! That's amazing."

"I think so," I said. "I'm a very happy, very lucky man."

Jeff hesitated. "Like Dr. Fiedler."

"In more ways than one," I said. And seeing that Jeff wasn't following I added, "Brade and I have a son. Together." I felt proud to make that announcement, and I remembered Todd Fiedler's tone of pride when he first mentioned how many kids they had.

"How's that?" Jeff asked. Earnest as hell.

"Amazing. Even if it cuts into the sex life some," I said with a wink.

Jeff laughed. I could tell he was arranging his crotch. "It's so crazy to talk about a father and son having sex."

I looked over. "Well you and your dad are, right?" Maybe I'd misread the whole situation.

He nodded and blushed. "Yeah. Like, um, a lot."

I laughed and Jeff laughed too. It broke the ice a lot.

I figured I could share more. "Braden and I love the idea of incest. Always gets us going."

I could tell Jeff was getting worked up. I was getting hard, too. I was wired for incest talk, and just discussing this openly was way hot.

But we kept the conversation more serious. "I'm pretty sure Dad and I don't want to have kids," Jeff said. "But we've been talking more about what a relationship would mean."

"Parenting's not easy, you both gotta be on the same page."

Jeff and I talked more, off and on, between shots, and it was amazing to see him open up and his happiness at being able to talk about incest.

I listened, but I had to speak up. "Can I give you some unsolicited advice, Jeff?"

"Sure," he said. Over two hours we'd built up a high level of trust.

"If it's going to be more than sex with your dad, if the emotional part is important... well, you need him on board, buddy. About talking to others."

"Yeah," Jeff conceded, chastised.

I now patted his knee, paternally. "It goes both ways, too. He needs to know how you feel and your need to bond with other man. He may be your dad, but he needs to listen to you, not just lay down the law."

Jeff seemed quiet as he took that in, then finally replied. "Thanks, Bill."

***

I got home to find Braden playing catch in the backyard. I don't know how much of it was Junior into baseball and football, and how much of it was Brade's natural enthusiasm in sharing that masculine rite of passage. My son was such a natural father, it was touching to watch. And to hear Junior alternate between giggling and trying to imitate his daddy's game-focus mannerisms, was endearing.

I decided then and there that it was time for another kid. To give Junior a younger brother.

***

I brought it up on Monday night. Junior was in bed by 9. Brade and I took turns make sure our son did his nightly routine and brushed his teeth. I was grateful that night, because work had been a real long, tough day for me. I sat on the couch and watched some mindless TV with the sound turned down.

Finally Braden came and sat down next to me. "Exhausting, huh?" he said with a laugh. We never bitched about parenthood, but we did bond on the work it took and enjoyed approaching the challenges with humor.

"I'll say," I replied. Then, "You up for feeling more exhausted, Braden?"

He paused as it sunk and looked at me. Then, "You saying what I think you're saying?"

I nodded. "If you're up for it. It's your body, son."

"Oh god, Dad. I'm gonna go off the pills tomorrow."

I smiled. Proud. Excited. Maybe more than a little horny. My dick was firming up. "I figure it's time for Junior to have a little brother."

"Yes, sir," Brade hissed as he scooted closer and leaned forward into my lap.

I'd never turn down a blowjob from my son, but now that he was pawing at my crotch, a started tone entered my voice. "You sure Junior's asleep?" I asked in a whisper.

"He's out, Dad," Braden said with an impish smile as he pulled down down my zipper. "But you can keep watch if you like while I suck that cock that's gonna make our next son."

I lay back and enjoyed the slowest most sensual head I could imagine. Brade was making love to my dick and my balls, and I knew what he was thinking. How he was sucking his father, tasting the dick that made him. Getting closed to the breeding power that going to knock him up once more.

I made myself be quiet, almost silent as I orgasmed, feeding Brade a huge load. This was going to be a fun, emotionally powerful month or two. Or three. However long we had to mate to get the job done. I wasn't even going soft now, not even after Brade suckled at the dribbles and kept licking.

"Bedroom, Dad?" he asked, leaning up with a wild-eyed look on his face. I could tell he was thrilled by my amped up sexual response.

"You bet, Sport," I hissed, leaning into kiss him.

[owensbabygirl]

-english is not my first language-

this is not that much of an angst one shot but I might turn this to an au if ppl will like it sooo.

matt's pov

"chris was always a night guy.

parties, drinks, and pretty girls. oh he loved them. seeing them walk around with those tight tops and low raised jeans, he was addicted.

chris is not sexuall harassing. but every girl who sits on his car, he throws her some "remark" about sex and smiles.

he's not touching her chest- but he puts a hand on her thigh. and then orders her two tequilas, maybe three- because chris don't want to get into your heart, only to your "company".

so he'll tell you about how he was hockeying in highschool and how he was rocking on the ice. he'll pay the bill- but you'll pay the price.

chris is not sexuall harassing, and he's not that horny too, but from time to time he feels empty. and every girl in the reduce turns an object. he forgot how to talk but knows how to flirt.

the end of the night is apparent, everything is in place and the path is traced. same bar same cocktail for a week ago, same topics of conversation- fidgeting some meaning for a tattoo.

until it works, he captures them. and the fact that he treats them respectfully doesn't mean that he respects them.

dont get me wrong, chris don't love women, it's deeper them that, he loves that women make him love himself.

chris has 5 girls on Instagram- same stories, same lame hook, something like:

"listen I'm not a person who hits girls usually, but with you? I decided to deviate from my norm"

it started in highschool as a way to impress man, but it now turned to a way to stick fractions since...well chris never acquired self-esteem, and the only moment he feels it is with you in the car.

chris is not sexuall harassing. he's just...sort of a murderer. and maybe I'm exaggerating I know, but chris is not that kind of a killer, he does it gently. not sneaking in the dark with a mask; he'll walk towards you with a smile, confident, and an bulge.

and what turns him to a murderer is that a woman for him is just a body. and when he used the potential, so bye.

the next day chris needs to satisfy his needs opening his phone, searching it in a swipe- tinder bumble and if that won't work so cupid, once a while.

he's not sexuall harassing but his relationship with sex is. because there's no way chris walks down the street without looking to the sides and say "fuck. she's mad hot."

shoots a glance back, checking her out. like a sniper puts the cross on the target. chris is never fine, but with a pretty girl? he's never bad as well. in the day he's were, at night he's a werewolf. when it's night time he's searching for a prey since he'll feel pain soon.

so he don't want woman, he wants them to want him. he'll cancel all his plans so they would go out with him.

let's say...the work on mornings? is going to trash. abandoning friends on their birthdays, chris plays dirty again.

and he never held himself back for any woman, yet he keeps sending them messages one after another. you don't need to sand a dick pic to act like one, chris is crosing targets he has fire in his eyes.

it's because he has grief carrying from home, between him and the man he's willing to be there's a gap that he still cant stick.

he just can't cast that spell, chris compels.

chris lies, chris flirts.

chris cums, chris regrets.

between love and lust chris gets confused. chris can't let himself be with no options, so chris mults. and chris dont want to give you nothing, he want to get.

chris is lost. what was cute at the age of 18 turned wired now when he's 30.

woman tells? it's not impressing.

chris is a thirty year old man, and never got to actually fall in love. only a love that invites, that always excites.

it's the same scenes, that one comes- the other one goes, and when chris closes the door and says goodbye...it's not his first winter alone with no one nearby.

chris knows well the loneliness, he knows it won't disappear if he won't let himself feel the emptiness. but he's not ready for it because how will he feel successed?

if he won't be with her, her, her, and probably with you too.

you need to understand this, chris don't want, he has to. a childhood full of lost created a lot of demons.

chris is not sexuall harassing but relationship with sex is. so he'll go for every girl even if she's not his type in the vibe or the right age, since he's in pain and it's friday night at the loud streets of LA. and that girl looks exactly like a painkiller.

and chris is afraid to see that under all these run away ways he's just an empty person.

and me? it scares that chris...is sort of...me."

matt paused himself after getting finished his little speech he said to himself, turning around from the pretty morning view out the window to see the random girl he already forgot her name, laying there in the bed. "nuh i need to dip" he spoke to himself again. grabbing his little bag and jacket before leaving the place.

a-n: this came out way more poetic then I thought lmao, I love writing about this, also my friends told me it was a really good plot twist, but I wrote it was matts pov from the start so...hope you liked it♡ please support by reblogging! divider by @issysh3ll

[this-is-z-art-blog]

I am always telling everyone to read Kate Griffin's Matthew Swift books but especially Danny Phantom fans. It's got an overpowered sarcastic weirdo with a complicated relationship to his own mortality, whose blood has a tendency to burn a neon shade, saddled unwillingly with a magic job everyone is in awe of that he hates with all his heart. You're gonna love it! I also have a standing offer if anyone reads all six books I'll read any single work or comparable length series. Having since reread this particular book, I had forgotten this very spooky line is something he says while drugged out of his mind, to the people kidnapping him to steal his blood, shortly before he destroys his second building of the book.

In my green electric angels au Danny is older than in canon (early-mid 20s) but younger than Matthew (unclear, seems to be early-mid 30s); because the first book opens when he comes back from the dead after two years, all his stuff has been thrown away, and Matthew spends a chunk of the opening scrounging up essentials through theft and magic. For Danny, I'm not sure if I like it more if his Casper High shirt is something he got from Jazz (or maybe one of his friends), or something he found in a thrift shop and picked up on purpose for a stronger connection to his old self. Either way I think it's really disconcerting to Valerie; I haven't gotten into it much yet but she's going to have the role of the protagonist's sort-of friend and would-be executioner, Oda, whose magician brother destroyed her family so she now believes all magic is evil. For Valerie, this isn't just an inhuman creature prone to magical explosions she allies with only to face greater evils, but one that does so while wearing the face of what she believes to be a dead friend of hers. This here is not the kind of shenanigan that helps with that impression

[ID: two similar drawings of Danny Fenton from the waist up. He's wearing a faded Casper High School shirt and a blue hoodie with red accents, his nose is slightly crooked, and despite being in human form his eyes are a bright, electric green. He also has a handful of green sparks coming off of him. He's looking slightly up, expression blank and open. He is asking "Would you like us to tell you about death?"

In the second image his expression is a bit more intense, and his eyes are glowing much more harshly, the pupils entirely subsumed in light. The sparks around his head have grown, and more are spread behind him, forming jagged electric wing shapes. Here Danny asks "Would knowing how it is make you less afraid?"]

@crossoverdanuary day four, element

for my green electric angels au, based around Kate Grifin's Urban Fantasy series. Quote is from the fourth book, the Minority Council

[lizhortons]

Y'all how do I drop hints to a guy that I'm into him?

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[shannonsketches]

something something foils moving in opposite directions Goku's always happy to seek and fight stronger opponents because he spent most of his life being the strongest guy in the room and Vegeta wants to be the strongest/is always exhausted to find stronger opponents because he spent most of his life having to navigate his survival around the whims of the strongest guy in the universe room and so Goku has a foundation of safety and stability and so spends his time craving challenge and adventure and Vegeta has a foundation of challenge and adventure and spends his time craving safety and stability and the overlaid section of their venn diagram is that the only way they know how acquire and maintain those things is through battle

[xheksprostate]

getting sloppy drunk for the first time on accident: woo! i am going to luxuriate in the todays decadent win of the montreal canadiens, mes habs, over the florida panthers and the fact that our baby rookie baby goalie shut out said defending stanley cup champs! and also think salacious things about sam monty montembeault. olé

[ji-lixie]

heartbreak so bad i will fix my sleep schedule over it-

[anaalnathrakhs]

...i'm starting to wonder if i wasn't actually pretty often failed by the adults in my life as a young kid tbh.

[gurggggleburgle]

In my professional opinion I would like to say that while Binghe is absolutely hot for his Shizun being older than him and that problematic forbidden spiced fruit Mobei-Jun has not and cannot process that Shang Qinghua is technically by all standards a dilf. Its just never going to occur to him. Like he's still under the impression that he's older in this relationship even when you don't account transmigration into this.

And Airplane has explained this to him. Pointed out the obvious. Has mentioned it a few times and like butter on a boiled egg it slides away. My good men he doesn't even understand what a daddy kink is and I don't think he ever will.

[designernishiki]

I think I’ve said this before on here but. it really baffles and somewhat annoys me sometimes how people hear that a character is in their 40s-50s and immediately assume they should be weak or feeble or less attractive than they are. like. no. i think everyones just been brainwashed to think that attractiveness/health/worth is determined by how young someone is. why is it more understandable to view a teenager as more attractive and capable than a fit 40-50-something year old. kinda wack

[irascible-iridescent]

I do enjoy the Jean as a character and his dynamic with Harry makes me crazy, on the other hand I hate Jean fans here

[maaarine]

Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."