Psy Mother Father Gentleman Lyrics の小説・ストーリー

Only that it was too late now; my dad was gone, I didn't wait, I had fallen for another man; A broken, murderer of a man. But a man all the same. ***

he says still starring at me, "He has not" "Then forget it all in sorry but i can't ket you get involved in those matters they will do you no food and plenty harm" "You can't cinfune it control me anymore" "Young girl I'll drive you home and let you have a deep sleep and lots of rest then we will have some serious conversation when we get home so thanks die the visit and call I'd like to leave now Myles" father says pulling out his chair and also oukling out his own to stand,

“You...can..t fix this lily fl..flower. Not..wit...without was..ting time” His hands became cold, his words now slurred as the blood loss started to take what was left of his energy. “Daddy” Gemma cried out, her eyes not understanding but her heart realising that something was wrong with her father “Pu..mpkin...lov..ve you. Never….reg..ret,,,ted an...y...of it. Ple..ase my flo..wer….run”

I was sprawled on my bed, scrolling through my phone, trying to ignore the fact that my brain was, as usual, replaying the latest Gabriel dream. Yeah, that Gabriel. My dad's best friend. The one who haunted my sleep with those ridiculously handsome smiles and touches that felt so real, I'd wake up all flustered and confused. He was, like, thirty-something, noble, always dressed sharp, and totally off-limits. My forbidden fantasy. My secret obsession since I was, like, fifteen. "Coming!" I yelled back, shoving the embarrassing thoughts away. Gotta act normal. Always normal. I trudged downstairs. Dad was already there, looking a bit nervous, which was weird. Mom was practically bouncing. "Sit

I stare at the photo, At the man who threw me out, At the father who never fought for me, My voice is steady. “Then neither are we.”

“Talk if you want a taste of this.” “I know the components of the containers headed for the border, sir,” I ramble, breaking all the work ethics. Try sticking to work ethics when you are dripping wet, and all your body can think of is two delicious cocks in front of you. “I also know Mikhail Petrov, your father, isn’t dead.” “Good girl,” First Guy praises and pecks my lips. He turns to Thirst Trap, who’s also out of his pants and is stroking his full cock. “Untie her.”

*JAMIN* I watched Mister storm out of my bedroom, the door closing hard behind him. The silence he left behind was suffocating. I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment, staring at the empty doorway, before the familiar, ugly thought settled in. I guess I’ve become very useless, just like my father always said. I wasn’t even good for fucking anymore. The one thing I thought I could still offer him…the one thing that usually made him stay, hold me, touch me, look at me with that dark intensity…had just been rejected.

I have dealt with girls like her in the past, but she is on another level. Sitting on the bed I pick up my guitar and start to play one of my mom’s old favorite songs ‘Stand By Your Man’ by Tammy Wynette. When I start playing the intro to the song there is a gentle knock on my door. “Come on in Dad,” I continue to play the music as my dad comes into my room. “Hey baby girl Chase is downstairs, and he would like to have a word with you.” He stands in the doorway watching me sitting on the bed.

“Wanna sing it?” “Well…” “Now” he said. I nodded and then took out the paper. “My mama left at 9 years old My father stayed out in the cold I made a promise I would never be them But here I am inside this place Suffocated by your face I choose to stay cuz I'm too scared of leaving So you're smashing frames to make me hurt And saying things that I don't deserve I sit there and take it, just like you know I would Cuz the sound of screams are easier

He saw the fierce, desperate determination shining in my eyes,the exact same stubbornness I had inherited from him. Casper let out a soft, yielding breath and nodded slowly. "I swear, Miss Jessica. Not a word to your father." "Good," I smiled, a dark, reckless giggle bubbling up in my throat. "Now sit down, grab a mic, and drink with me. We have emotional damage to sing away!" For the next two hours, the private booth turned into a chaotic, messy disaster of sound and sorrow. I kicked off my shoes, grabbed the heavy microphone, and dragged Casper into singing every dramatic, heartbreak-heavy track I could find. When I queued up Burna Boy’s *Gum Body* featuring Jorja Smith, I felt every singl