#heavy load band

[wizardscrown]

honestly, i’m so happy how my baby is turning out 🤍

🚧 work in progress 🚧

[booksandmemes1987]

I just found this song, and it is pretty catchy. This is a song that I would sing if I had a band, we'd cover it. Although, I can't hit those high notes.

This sounds like something that would be in the ending of like a show or a movie, with the main character singing it, and it would have a montage of them and their friends just jamming and having a good time on the stage.

To me the opening riff, and it echo's throughout the song kinda sounds like an Iron Maiden song, but I can't place which one that it sounds like, and I know that is going to irk me, haha.

The song is by the band Heavy Load, and its called Saturday Night.

[jarofalicesgrunge]

James and Lars with a kid at Madison Square Garden in NYC ❤️1996/ 📸©️credits to V. Pugliese.

[90shetfield]

REAL QUESTION TO ALL THE METALLICA FANS!!

I think someone already asked this before but I forgot so I'm asking again </3

[crmsndragonwngss]

Convinced that mainstream media outlets have no fucking clue what the difference between rock and metal is. I guess they figure electric guitar = heavy metal

[staystrong2396]

Listening to music makes me happy 😁

[rafesangelita]

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 “jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock!” — in which you ride rafe speechless for being on the naughty list..

warnings: roleplay, dirty talk, established relationship, teasing, brief thigh riding, heavy petting, tit fucking, grinding, orgasm denial, rafe cries, slight degradation, unprotected sex, restraints (reader has rafe’s hands tied with a ribbon), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, slapping, scratching, hair pulling

a/n: lol i feel like i should’ve done kinkmas..

“fuck, fuck, fuck..” rafe was cursing under his breath, your soaked cunt gliding over his cock while it sat on his tummy, your clit dragging up and down the underside of his length. “please, i need to be inside you, baby.” his voice came out weak, like it was taking everything in him not to blow his load right then and there. “naughty boys don’t get what they want.” you moaned, your hips stuttering as you merely used rafe to get yourself off. rafe’s head thudded against the headboard, his jaw slack as he reveled in the feeling of you grinding on him.

“please, i’ll be good, i promise!” he gasped when you raked your nails down his chest. “yeah? you said that last year..” your laugh was nothing short of degrading, your boyfriend feeling utterly helpless as his hands were bound above his head. when the band in your stomach suddenly snapped, you were quick to move off of rafe’s cock and onto his thigh where you started dragging your hips instead. this way, he couldn’t feel the way you desperately clenched around nothing. “ohh, fuck! you’re cumming?” you ignored him, your legs trembling as your orgasm had you whimpering to yourself.

rafe squirmed, his cock aching with need as you rode out your high against his stiff muscles. “this is the only thing you’re good for, you know that?” you looked up at him, his eyes glazed over as his cheeks flushed with color. “yes, i know. i’m only here to make you feel good..” his abs constricted as he watched you get up on shaky legs, anticipation settling in his belly as you put your hair up in a ponytail. “poor rafe, your cock looks like it’s just begging for attention.” you cooed, seating yourself between his thighs.

leaning down, rafe shuddered when you took him in your hand. “i shouldn’t let you be inside me at all.. but if you’re good for me i might just let you.” sitting him between your tits, you looked up at him as you stroked him, your tongue lapping at his tip every time he emerged from the valley of your breasts. “holy fuckkk,” he hissed, “oh, it feels so good.” you taunted his whines, your tits glistening with his slick. “i’m not gonna— shit, i’m not gonna last.” he shook his head, eyebrows knitting together as his face morphed into one of full blown pleasure.

upon hearing this, you sped up your pace until he was crying out, almost completely falling off the edge before you stopped all movements, heavy tears running down his cheeks as this was the third orgasm you denied him tonight. seeing him cry out of frustration turned you on beyond belief, each tear a testament to how bad you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger. swinging a leg over his hips, you straddled him once again before pulling a handful of his hair. “look down, handsome, i want you to watch the way you fill me up..”

rafe’s hair was still threaded between your fingers when you sunk down unto him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as your heat wrapped around him. letting go of his hair, rafe hissed when you softly ran your hands down his torso, your nails digging into his skin while you sat still on top of his lap. “please do something..” it was torture being inside of you without being able to fuck you senseless. so bad, he wanted to at least have his hands on your hips, the globes of your ass looking so enticing.

“are you going to be good?” rafe nodded frantically, his chest rising and falling as he desperately muttered a ‘yes, i’ll be so good for you!’ you don’t know what possessed you to do it, but without a second thought, you slapped rafe across the cheek, the action stunning him for a moment before a hint of a smile played on his lips. the fucker liked it? oh, he was in for it now. leaning forward, rafe attempted to get one of your tits in his mouth before you smacked him away, sinking down on him once again. he shivered, gazing up at you as you started rocking on top of him.

the globes of your ass smacked his thighs, his eyes watching you mesmerized. you felt too good whenever you rode him like this, your clit hitting his pubic bone everytime you slammed back down. you were so wet, the sound reverberating in the empty space of your shared bedroom. “wanna touch you..” he groaned when you started bouncing on him faster, the familiar tension starting to coil in his abdomen. “aww, well that’s just too bad.” you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips. “m’gonna cum, baby, please i need it!” he all but whined, eyes screwing shut as you threw him over the edge of pure euphoria.

he came harder than he ever had in his life, the force of his climax hitting him like a truck. rafe was writhing beneath you, pathetic noises leaving his lips as he painted your insides white. “o-oh my fucking— nghhh, god!” he was in full on hysterics, tears falling down the corners of his eyes as you didn’t make any attempt to slow your movements. “baby— slow down, please, please, please..” he hissed, overstimulation kicking in. you smiled at him briefly, feeling your second orgasm of the night lick your tummy as it was just in arm’s reach.

eyebrows knitting together in pure unadulterated bliss, you cried out, leaning down and pressing kisses to rafe’s chest as you came, your velvety walls sucking him in as you clenched around the welcomed intrusion that was his cock. how rafe hadn’t ascended into the after life yet? he didn’t know. surely he was in heaven already, his vision fuzzy as he blinked, dazed and extremely fucked-out. rafe helplessly kissed the crown of your head, your attention flittering up to his restrained hands. once you weren’t trembling in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you reached up, untying the knot that rafe’s wrists were currently binded in.

his arms were like jelly when they fell, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. “if that’s the ‘punishment’ for being naughty, i think i might just act up all year—” you laid down next to him, allowing him to pull you close before you interrupted him. “don’t even think about it.”

[oneknightlight]

Painkiller by Judas Priest is such a Spamton Neo song

[lovebugism]

rockstar eddie punching the lights out of sleazy paps who try to take upskirt pics of you as you’re leaving the afterparty

ty for requesting! — rockstar!eddie defends you from the creepy paparazzi (rockstar!eddie universe, established relationship | 1.1k)

Post-show adrenaline rushes through your veins like ice-cold water. Your limbs go numb with it, hands trembling like leaves as you give your dressing room a last once-over. Beneath the heartbeat in your ears, you notice the screaming audience has gone slowly quiet — which usually means they’re rushing to the backstage doors. 

You have approximately one minute to get to the tour bus before a crowd starts swarming. 

Eddie, however, continues to lounge on the plush leather sofa like a king despite the ever-shrinking timeline. 

His leather pants sit low on his hips, enough to reveal the trail of hair on his stomach leading to the tight tanktop he wears under his leather jacket. His curls are wild and sticky with sweat. His eyes are glassy with alcohol and adrenaline, a couple of chocolate buttons lined around the edges with black eye-pencil.

He looks heavenly, an angel built for sin, but you don’t have time to admire him now. 

“C’mon, Eds. We gotta go,” you huff after you’ve checked all the drawers, effectively sweating beneath your faux fur coat.

“Wait. Hold on,” Eddie calls to your retreating form, unmoving from his spot on the sofa.

You freeze in the doorway. “What?” you call to him in an unenthusiastic monotone.

“Nothing…” Eddie lilts as his pink mouth curls into a crooked smile. “You just look really pretty tonight.”

You look hardly a thing like he’s used to — his quiet girl from Hawkins with an easily excitable temper, who was so talented that it bordered on annoying at times. You look less like a GAP catalog and more like a rockstar. Bold makeup, tight dress, thick fur coat, and rings on every finger. You look divine. Eddie doesn’t know how he got you.

Your eyes narrow into thin slits. “Just tonight?”

“Every night,” Eddie corrects.

“C’mon. We don’t have time for this,” you grouse with a roll of your eyes. 

Your high-heeled boots sound heavy on the thin carpet as you stomp over to the lazing boy. Your cold hands wrap around his wrist to pull him upward. Eddie trails behind you while you drag him out of the empty dressing room.

The crowd beats you to the backstage door.

The crew has long loaded your equipment onto the tour bus. Gareth and Jeff wait for you there, too, sufficiently protected from the mob swarming outside. It’s all blurred faces and camera flashes and grabbing hands. Everyone’s shouting so many different things at once that their words all run together in a dizzying drone.

Eddie ducks his head and leads the charge through the masses. He keeps his ringed hand tightly wound with yours as he rushes through the crowd with his face half-hidden in his hair. 

You last that way for no longer than a moment or more before your hand slides from his. Eddie’s head whips around to find you sloppily signing your name on posters with your face on it, band merch, and the top one woman’s scantily-clad chest. 

He hates when you stop for autographs in places as crowded as this. ‘Cause someone always gets too grabby or too pushy, and Eddie has to get mean.

The surrounding paparazzi start to close in — shouting your names, all eager for the best shot of you, and hoping for the cover of the following days’ magazine.

The roaring crowd gets in between the two of you. Eddie feels like his heart’s in his throat when you get trapped in the mob, still smiling politely and scribbling autographs to cover your panic. Eddie pushes his way through the people to get to you with a lot less gentility.

“Hey, back a little bit, would ya?” he shouts to the aggressive paps shoving their cameras every which way. 

Everyone’s screaming too loud to listen. 

He reaches you no more than ten seconds later, though it had felt like an eternity at the time, and spots a camera angled far too low to be casual. A man with a receding hairline and sweaty upper lip stands behind you and takes a number of flashing shots, blindly aiming under your dress for a view of what you’re wearing underneath it.

Eddie hopes to God you’ve got something on underneath it as he shouts, “Hey! Back up! Are you fucking crazy?” He grabs your wrist with one hand and shoves the pap backward with the other.

The older man stumbles back a step or two, but doesn’t get far with all the people crowded behind him. He pushes Eddie back with a hairy hand, seemingly on instinct. Eddie doesn’t realize his fist is throwing a punch until he feels the impact of the man’s jaw on his knuckles. 

His eyes widen in shock of himself as the crowd roars — in gasps and shouts and calls of praise. You cover your agape mouth with one hand when the paparazzo stumbles over himself and onto the ground. The mob parts to let him fall. No one helps him back up again.

Eddie feels a sharp and tingling ache rushing through his fingers as he tugs you through the horde and towards the tour bus. This time, you let him.

“Hope you guys liked the show!” he shouts, waving his ringed hand and effectively flashing his bruising knuckles. The fans erupt in a symphony of screams that you can hear long after the door to the bus has shut behind you.

An hour or more later, the story has made its way to damn near every news channel. ‘Eddie Munson Will Rock You,’ the headline reads over a picture of the rockstar mid-punch. 

The newscast plays the video on repeat in a number of different angles. The four of you, still dressed in your concert outfits, gather around the small square television to watch.

“Well…” Jeff sighs to break the silence. “That was quick.”

Gareth pouts from the mini dining table. “I can’t believe I missed it…”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and slumps beside you on the couch. “At least now everyone’s talking about this shit and not those pictures that asshole took of you.”

“You say that like you did it on purpose,” you quip with a playful glint in your narrowed eyes.

“I did, actually,” Eddie shrugs, obviously sarcastic. “‘Cause I’m a genius. Always thinking two steps ahead, sweetheart.”

“You’re an idiot,” you smile, rolling your eyes as you lean over to brush a kiss to his burning cheek. You linger against him and whisper in his ear, “Meet me in the bunks in five minutes.”

You rise from the plush sofa and saunter towards the back of the bus — dress swishing at your hips, fur coat bouncing around your arms. You catch Eddie’s heavy gaze over your shoulder and flash him a wink before sliding the door shut behind you.

Eddie’s glad those photos of you haven’t gotten out, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take a couple polaroids of his own.

[gurugirl]

Dress up

sugardaddy!harry x yn | An extra for The Arrangement

Summary: Y/n dresses up in diamonds and jewels and thinks she looks sexy so she secretly makes a solo video of herself. But then she goes out on a limb and sends the video to Harry while he's working.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've given you an update for these two! This was requested! Here

Word Count: 4,548

Warning: 18+ only, smut, use of toys, spanking, sharing of a solo sex tape

The Arrangement Masterlist

. .

Y/n remembers a time when she’d wear clothes that were slightly unkempt. Clean but perhaps maybe a little wrinkled. Shirt hems and collars would be folded funny, buttons misaligned, sweaters and dresses not fitted properly…

Back then she relied on the drier to de-wrinkle her clothes. Nowadays a professional service delivered her freshly cleaned and pressed items to her door. All of which were tailored to fit her perfectly.

So it wasn’t unusual for Y/n to play dress up with herself when Harry was away at the office and she was at home alone. She enjoyed having such nice clothes and things filling her closet. It’s something she never had before.

She’d layer on a silk Chanel dress with her Ferragamo belt, a Hermes scarf, and the expensive custom disk hat with silk roses Harry bought her when they went to the Kentucky Derby. She’d watch herself in the long floor-length mirror and practice walking like a woman who owned the kind of clothes she was wearing.

But sometimes she focused on the jewelry. The pretty shiny rocks and jewels, delicately woven precious metal bands and chains… Harry had bought her more jewelry than she’d ever seen in her life. Diamonds, gold, platinum, rubies, emeralds, pearls, silver… Rings, watches, brooches, necklaces, anklets, earrings, belts, and bracelets. You name it.

And on this particular evening, Harry was at a dinner meeting that was going to run late. She’d bathed and put on her perfumed moisturizing balm and then walked naked into her massive walk-in closet where she opened up her lingerie drawer and spotted the elbow-length velvet opera gloves. She’d only ever worn them once but she remembers the way they felt on her arms and how luxurious it made her feel.

Watching herself in her mirror she slid each glove up her arms and posed, raising her arms over her head to lift her tits and make her tummy appear more svelte.

She grinned as she turned and then she had a sudden idea. Opening up her jewelry armoire she was presented with shiny, sparkly bobbles and jewels.

“Siri… shuffle music by Sara Vaughan to the master bedroom speakers.”

When the jazzy slow music began to play she traced her gloved fingers over the diamond necklace she often wished she could wear every day. It was littered in diamonds, the drop cutting down to just above her cleavage. Lifting it up she placed it gently over her head and laid it over her bust. It was spectacular. Heavy and twinkly and chilled on her skin. She smoothed her hands down her body and stared at her figure in the mirror wearing nothing but gloves and the ridiculously expensive necklace Harry had bought her.

Which then gave her the idea to add on the pretty rainbow jewel body belt. The thin chain was loaded with various colored diamonds, emeralds, rubies, topaz… The end of the chain draped down her back, laying just over her bum with a pretty pearl at the end. Then she put on the drop diamond earrings that matched the necklace. The bottom diamond was so big it nearly reached her shoulder when she shrugged.

She layered pearls and opals and her diamond bracelets over her gloved wrists and then slid on her black high heels, doing a dramatic twirl and bending to see her backside with a giggle.

She swayed her hips to the sexy music crooning through the speakers and then grinned at herself in the mirror, “Look how pretty… Daddy would love this.”

Feeling her naked skin under her gloves was a dream. The way the velvet ran smoothly over her flesh felt sexy and the more jewelry she layered on the prettier she felt. All sparkly and fancy with soft skin and perked nipples.

Sitting her video camera on its stand next to the mirror she hit record and began dancing slowly with herself, all decked out in diamonds. Running her hands over her curves and up to her tits she bit her lip and looked at the camera, “There isn’t anyone that wouldn’t want to have this…” She spun around and laughed to herself before bending at the waist and spreading her thighs just enough that the camera could catch the view of her pussy from behind.

Peeking over her shoulder she stared into the lens and drew a hand down her back and over her bottom before swatting a cheek and moaning softly, “Not so bad with the glove,” she spoke aloud as she lowered her fingers until she could feel the velvet sliding over her pussy, back and forth.

Humming she looked at herself in the mirror and then pressed her finger over her other tight hole, “Needs a little sparkle, doesn’t it?”

She stood up and pulled open her toy drawer to select the plug of the night. It was an easy choice. The anal plug with diamonds. Real diamonds. Another thing she didn’t often wear because it was the least practical of her plugs. But it was pretty.

Stepping back up to the camera she held the plug up and drizzled lube over the tip then repeated the words of the song Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets…

Bending at the waist, ass aimed toward the camera she took her left hand and pulled at her cheek as she began to push the plug into her hole with her right hand. Y/n had become quite the expert at putting in her own plugs. She was used to it now. Even though Harry always told her to not do it when he wasn’t present, she often did it anyway. They had fun with it every time he found out she disobeyed him (but she knew he secretly loved it).

“Oh!” She squeaked when the cool metal fit into place and stretched her out. “Feels so good…” she swayed her hips as she spread her ass cheeks for the camera and hummed to the music.

Turning around to face the camera she tutted at herself, “Beautiful… So sparkly. Think I deserve a treat,” she grinned at her reflection and brushed her hand down her torso to her hips, and raised the other arm over her head as she toyed with her clit and gasped.

Of course, she was putting on a little show. Something to watch later on in private. She’d gotten in the habit of making little videos of herself dancing naked or masturbating. Or just talking about nothing really. She’d started to feel so confident and happy with herself thanks to Harry. And the videos were her naughty little secret. Sometimes, with the extra sexy ones, she’d even touch herself as she rewatched them later on, loving the way she looked.

This time was no different. She was stunning with sparkly jewels and velvet gloves. Long stretched of bare skin, breasts bouncing as she swayed and twirled.

Reaching for her breasts she squished them together with a moan and then jiggled them at the camera before swiping her thumb over each nipple, “Get those nice and hard. We know how much I like hard things don’t we?” She laughed to herself.

Reaching into her toy drawer she found her tiny pink vibrator and turned it on, “Gonna feel so good,” she ran the small toy down the center of her body, between her breasts, over her belly button, and then circled it over her pussy with a sharp inhale.

Moving to the music she kept her eyes on the camera and continued pressing the toy against her clit, “Oh… I’m getting so wet.”

Her breathing picked up and her nipples tightened more, goosebumps covered her skin as she felt the yummy sensation of arousal fill her veins.

“Mmm… I do it so well. Always get myself off. Don’t need Daddy every time, do we?” She chuckled and then gasped when she pressed the toy harder against her bud.

“So wet already. Such a dirty, horny girl…” she bit her lip and turned off the pink toy before placing it on the counter and running her velvet-covered fingers up and down her swollen, wet pussy, “So messy… mmm… Gonna get in so much trouble doing this. I think Daddy’s gonna have to spank me.”

The more she stroked her pearl the wetter her gloves got. She clenched her empty hole and moaned, “Need more. Like all my holes stuffed,” she spoke breathily as she peeked into her drawer and pulled out her clear silicone dildo. The extra long one that was ridged thickly and made her come so fast. She needed to get on with the show. Harry would be coming back soon.

Pulling her soft chair in front of the mirror and the camera she gently sat and cooed at the feel of the plug shifting under her bum, “Oop! Fuck that’s feeling really good.”

Y/n lifted her legs, planting her heeled feet on the seat cushion and spreading her thighs so there was an excellent view of her plug and her pussy.

“I’ve gotten myself all wet,” she drew a finger over her inner thigh and licked at the velvet-gloved finger, “Mm! I know why Daddy says it tastes so good. So yummy,” she sighed as she spread her legs wider and placed the dildo against her pussy lips, running it through her slippery folds before finally pushing it in slowly.

She parted her lips and stared into the camera as she began to work the silicone toy in and out until she could push it in deep and it pressed into the shared wall where her anal plug was. The toy tucked in her ass bobbed every time she thrust the dildo in deep and she moaned at the sight, “Oh my god… that’s so hot isn’t it? Look at how both holes take everything I give them so well.”

Fucking herself with the dildo and rubbing her clit with her gloves she stretched her neck back and whined loudly.

The slick sound of her cunt around the silicone toy filled the spaces between the notes and the music playing, just loud enough for the camera to pick up the sound. Going in faster she lulled her head forward to keep her eyes on the camera but she was in a bit of a daze. She always tried to keep her eyes open for the camera when she came because that was her favorite.

“Good girl, baby… Taking your toys so good. Fucking look like a goddess right now. Oh shit… that’s it… doing it so good…”

Her chest was rising and falling and she heard the chime of an incoming text, which she was sure was Harry, “Daddy’s trying to reach me,” she laughed playfully, “But his little girl is busy fucking herself, isn’t that right?”

It wasn’t long before she was shaking and her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her velvet gloves were ruined with her arousal as she fingered her swollen clit and clamped down on the dildo and the plug with a soft cry, “Oh god! Right there… Fuck…”

Her orgasm had wiped her out. She tried keeping her eyes on the camera but her whole head was swirling with pleasure and lust as she trembled and moaned, creaming all over her dildo.

She heaved and pulled the toy out, dropping it to the floor, and leaned back into the cushion to recover for a moment, “So good. You always do it right. Even better than Daddy sometimes,” she snorted a laugh and sat up to look at the camera teasingly before wobbly legs took her across the space to turn off the recording on her camera.

.             .             .

Y/n had watched her newest home video at least four times. And she was so turned on every time she watched it, she’d make herself come in record time, rubbing her clit and feeling so proud of how pretty she looked and how brave she’d become since she’d been with Harry.

And the recent video with all the jewels was her best work yet. She really loved it. So much so that she was thinking about sharing it with Harry. She wondered what he’d think about it. She was positive he’d just go nuts over it like she did. He’d act all upset and stoic. Probably give her a good spanking (at least) but she knew he’d adore it.

So, in a moment of sheer insanity or bravery (she wasn’t sure which) she tucked her top row of teeth into her bottom lip, attached the video to a text message for Harry, and squealed when she hit send. She couldn’t believe she’d sent it. All of her solo videos had been her little secret all this time but now she was bringing Harry into the mix by showing him.

It was 2 pm on a Wednesday. He was at the office and probably just getting out of his most recent meeting. And she knew he’d see it shortly after she sent it.

She kept her eye on the screen of her phone, waiting for the message to say ‘read’. It only took a few minutes. She giggled to herself as she snuggled into the couch with her laptop and watched the video, trying to time it so that she was watching it at the same time he was. Wondering what he was thinking with every minute that drew on.

Her heart was racing in anticipation of his response. She knew she’d be in for a bit of punishment but she didn’t know exactly what to expect from it.

But then minute after minute drew on. The video had ended and there was no word from Harry. No bobbing dots to indicate he was texting. No phone call. Nada.

She felt heat creep over her skin as she thought about all the ways Harry would teach her a lesson. Y/n knew Harry was making a plan. Surely he was devising some kind of punishment for her misbehavior. She couldn’t wait.

Less than an hour later Harry was walking through the front door. Y/n peeked over the back of the couch toward the foyer entry and she saw him pass through but he didn’t look in her direction. He breezed by cooly and went into the kitchen.

Y/n scrambled off the couch to follow after him. He was pouring a glass of water for himself silently when she rounded the island and put her hands on his shoulders, “Hi, Daddy.”

He grunted and moved away, making her hands fall from his back as he put the water pitcher back into the fridge before taking a long gulp of his water.

Waiting silently for him to award her a glance she watched her man place the empty glass into the sink as he sighed, placing his palms flat onto the marble countertop, “So you think you can take care of yourself better than I can? Is that right?”

She knew that line would stick out to him.

“I was just teasing. You know no one does it better than you, Da–“

“And you disobeyed me. Looked like you were having the time of your life, Y/n. Did you enjoy wearing all the expensive jewelry I bought you? Enjoyed getting yourself off while I was working hard to keep a roof over your head?” He turned and looked at her. Stern and serious.

Now she knew he was being dramatic. The whole keep-a-roof-over-your-head comment was a bit silly. Harry could retire right then if he wanted to.

“I did enjoy it, actually,” she quipped back before biting her lip.

“Well now at least you’re being honest with me. When did you make the video? Was this today?”

Shaking her head she leaned into the counter, “A week ago.”

He nodded slowly, his green eyes trailing down over her body. She was only wearing one of his t-shirts.

“And what were you up to today that compelled you to send me this one-week-old video?”

 She gulped, “Nothing really. Um… I just wanted to share it with you because I liked it. Thought you’d like it to.” She said blinking her eyes innocently at him.

Harry sniffed, “It was very pretty to look at. But you went against my explicit rules. Does Daddy not give you enough orgasms every day? Every morning and every night I work to keep you satisfied. Are you so desperate for an orgasm that you can’t wait a few hours until I get home?”

She breathed shallowly and looked down, “I just sometimes like to do it myself. And I felt so pretty.”

Y/n felt Harry’s touch on her arm, “Come.”

She followed him upstairs to her closet where he opened up her drawers until he found her toys and then her gloves and opened up the jewelry armoire.

“Put everything on that you had in the video. Meet me in the bedroom when you’re ready.”

Y/n felt her nerves bubble as she put everything on. The jewels, the gloves, the plug, and her heels. She sighed as she gave herself a once over in the mirror before stepping out into the bedroom where Harry was seated at the end of the bed facing the TV. Her video on the large screen paused at the beginning. He had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, ready to get to work.

“C’mere,” he patted his lap. He kept his eyes focused on her body as she neared him and placed her hand on his shoulder to sit down but he pulled her over his thighs, tummy down, and ass up where he gave her a very swift smack and then massaged at the meat of her bum, pulling her plushy cheeks apart and tapped her plug, “Good. Looks like we’re all set.”

Her head was hanging down and the weight of the necklace was especially heavy in her new position, the earrings pulling at her lobes as she rocked over him to stabilize herself. She imagined she was going to need to hang on to something.

“Watch with me. Lift your head. Let’s see this dirty little video my spoiled girl made.”

She scoured the screen with her eyes, her body in view and the jewels glinting off the light from above her. Y/n had to strain to keep her head up. She leveraged herself up with her hand on the bed next to Harry’s thigh.

She had seen the video enough times that she had the whole thing nearly memorized. The music, the moment she bends and shows the camera her plug, the lines she spoke…

Harry spanked her ass, two stinging open palmed swats to each side and she winced at the pain and gasped as she slid down, losing her balance when she kicked a leg up.

“Stay still for me and keep watching,” he spoke gruffly as he grasped the front of her neck and tilted her head back up so she could watch with him.

Gulping into his palm she arched her back when he spanked her bottom again, “Look at how pretty you are in my lap, baby,” he ran his hand down her spine to the little jeweled belt where the pearl hung at the top of her crack, “All these expensive things on your body, ass up for me,” he twisted the plug, “Pussy wet.”

She moaned when he ran his fingers between her crease and pressed his middle finger inside of her cunt before pulling it out and wiping it on the back of her thigh, where he then gave her another smack.

“Who bought all this for you, baby? Hmm? Who made this whole thing possible?”

“You, Daddy!” She didn’t hesitate to answer him.

“That’s right. This video wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for me. This pussy wouldn’t be wet if it weren’t for me.”

She nodded against his palm and moaned when his fingers circled her clit.

“Always my desperate, needy little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped when he pinched her bud and she wiggled her hips but he gripped her neck tighter, “Don’t wiggle. You got yourself into this mess. These are the consequences.”

She squeezed her eyes closed as he swatted her again before he continued speaking, leaning down to groan into her ear, “Do you know how hard I got the moment I opened up that video at work? Walking down the hall to my office I had to hide my boner and click the volume off.”

She felt him pinch at her inner thigh, giving her clit a moment of respite from his fingers, “Had to calm myself down and lock the door. But then I finished watching your little video and I had to excuse myself to leave work early. Do you know how disruptive that was?”

She grunted as he pressed over her plug, “Right now, I’m supposed to be in a meeting with a potential investor. This was a big deal, Y/n. But I physically wasn’t able to stay at the office for a moment longer, and it’s your fault. Every time I thought about the way you came with your legs spread and this little plug flicking around from the dildo you were fucking yourself with… had to calm my cock. Was gonna burst in my pants.”

His fingers slid back into her cunt, two this time as he pumped into her walls and continued gripping her neck, “Look.”

She shifted her eyes to the screen and her voice filtered through the room, her gasps and moans as she began to come. And just as he described, her little plug was twitching in time with the way she was pressing the dildo into her cunt. It was a pretty sight.

She moaned when he kissed the back of her ear, “Fucking gorgeous when you come, baby. But this video? S’like a work of art. But you were still naughty. Didn’t get permission to do any of that did you?”

“No, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

His fingers were filling her up and squelching with every thrust, “You look so proud of yourself too. So confident. Like a big girl playing dress up with Daddy’s things. And if my cock weren’t throbbing right now I’d really teach you a lesson but I need to come inside of this little pussy. Been aching for it.”

She felt his legs shift and her body was moved, heels on the floor as he steadied her hips before he stood up and began to undo his pants, “Bend over the bed, spread your legs.”

She wanted to watch him pull his cock out. Wanted to see how hard he was but she knew better than to hesitate. She laid herself tummy down on the mattress and spread her thighs apart.

One of his hands was on her hip, lifting her slightly when she felt his thick cock drag against her pussy and then his chest was pressed into her back, “No one does it better than, Daddy.”

The moment he finished his sentence, lips against the shell of her ear, he slammed his cock inside of her. He took both of her hands in his, the velvet gloves keeping her from feeling his palms, as he pulled her arms behind her back and took both wrists in one big hand as he continued rocking into her.

She felt a sharp smack on her ass again and he grunted, thighs flexing as he worked into her. Her shoulders burned as he kept her arms held down at the middle of her back, one hand groping her ass cheek.

The view he had was gorgeous as always. Her plug pushed and pulled with every thrust of Harry’s cock and he could feel the press of it gliding over his cock through her tight warm walls.

The necklace was digging into her chest but she welcomed the way it felt on her skin as well as the burn of another swat to her bum because her body was giving itself over to him.

“My spoiled girl just keeps getting whatever she wants. Even when she’s naughty she gets all these pretty things; gets Daddy’s cock inside of her, gets all the orgasms she can handle. Guess you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you, baby?”

“Umph!” She croaked, her cheek smushed into the comforter, letting go of her ass as he leaned over, palm on the mattress, and drove into her with the kind of force she loved. It felt so much better than anything she could do to herself with her meager dildo. Harry’s cock was exactly what she needed.

“Yeah? Didn’t hear you make that noise in your little video.” He buried himself in, bullying another lewd sound from her throat as his hips rutted against her ass.

“Can’t help those pretty little noises can you? Daddy’s cock will always feel better won’t it?”

She was jolted forward, her mouth open with drool pooling over the blankets, “No… your cock… aoohha!”

Harry grinned at her inability to answer properly as he continued pounding into her, still holding her wrists together at her mid-back.

“Squeezing the fuck out of me baby. There you go… fuck…”

Y/n’s orgasm wiped her body out. The way the plug was stretching her out and Harry’s big cock was slamming into her guts she couldn’t hold on for a second longer.

She heard Harry panting between grunts and then felt both of his hands on her ass as he pressed in deep and unloaded himself, filling her insides with his come.

“My pretty baby. Love seeing you dripping in diamonds and all fucked out of your mind. Does it make you feel good baby? Wearing all these expensive things?”

He had his chest pressed into her back as he spoke quietly into her ear, hips pasted to her ass.

“I love it. It’s so nice, Daddy.”

He moved off of her, reaching an arm under her waist to pull her up to standing, and turned her in her arms, “Look at this,” bringing her gloved hands into his, he lifted them upward, “Ruined. Need to buy you new gloves it appears.”

She realized the cleaning job she’d done on them after making the video had been shoddy at best and now the tips of the fingers were steaky and lighter than the rest of the material, “Maybe dry cleaning?”

Harry pursed his lips as he began to take off her bracelets, unhooking each clasp, “Maybe. Not sure these can be salvaged, though.”

When he pulled her gloves off he reached around her neck to undo the necklace and then her jeweled belt before running his hands up and down her arms, “Gorgeous with or without all the diamonds,” he smirked.

“I like the diamonds, though. Fun to play dress up.”

He raised a brow and brought her left hand up to his mouth pressing his plush lips over her ring finger, “Thinking about what you’d look like with a pretty diamond right here.”

Y/n parted her lips and kept her gaze locked on Harry’s, “Like a… ring?”

Harry laughed at her shocked expression and pushed his fingers between hers as he cupped her cheek with his free hand, “Yeah. Like a ring.”

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[crappymixtape]

hang on tight, baby • part one

NAVIGATION -> PART I •  PART II •  PART III favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+  | ( 3.0k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

H A N G O N T I G H T, B A B Y • P A R T O N E 🎶 devil always made me think twice, chris stapleton

Clouds stretched overhead, lazy liked pulled taffy as the sun beat down on you in the midday heat. You’d been up since the first fingers of light had crept up over the horizon, dew still clinging to the long stalks of wheat in the early morning, but as the day spun on summer made sure to remind you what it was capable of.

That June in Oklahoma wasn’t anything to mess with.

Sweat beading across your forehead, you had half a mind to toss your hat over the corral fence but it was the only thing keeping you from getting sunburned. Pushing at your windswept hair with a gloved hand you tucked the flyaways out of your face and clicked your tongue at your horse, Tilly, to get back into position.

“C’mon, girl. One more run and then we’ll call it,” you coaxed, readjusting your grip on the saddle horn and giving her neck a pat. Tilly snorted, her hooves stamping in the dirt, anxious to take off again around the three wooden barrels dotting across your little makeshift arena. “That’s it, easy…” you murmured.

Barrel racing horses were built different, like they were brought into the world locked and loaded with a fire burning in them – they lived to ride like this. A black flash of muscle and tension set loose like a snapped rubber band and honestly? You lived for it too.

Tucking your chest tight against her mane, you knotted your fingers in the reigns, sucked in a breath and held it steady in your lungs. Three…two…one…

“Yah!” you kicked your heels to Tilly’s flanks and she took off like a gunshot. Hooves thundering across the ground, winding a tight circle around the first barrel in a blur as you ticked off the seconds in your head.

Seven, eight, nine – you rounded the second barrel – ten, eleven – you approached the third – twelve – and then you heard it. A blast of drums and twangy guitar riffs, a Chris Stapleton track followed by a loud engine backfire and it threw both you and Tilly off track.

Your booted foot smashed into the side of the last barrel and you yelped, Tilly kicking her back legs in a start with a high pitched whinny.

“Whoa, whoa–easy!” Pulling back on the reigns you soothed her, hands smoothing down her mane. Shh, s’alright girl, and she slowly calmed, cantering to a stop just at the edge of the corral where you could finally see who’d come tearing up the driveway.

Tyler Owens.

“Well hey, sweet stuff. Damn, you were lookin’ good for a minute – what happened there at the end?” he hollered out his open cab window and it made your hands ball into fists.

Brows pinched together and lips twisting into a deep scowl, you tugged at Tilly to head back to the gate, “I told you not to call me that, Owens.”

“What? Sweet stuff? What’s wrong with that?” you could hear the grin in his tone, saw him in your head without even having to look. Stupid smirk, stupid aviators, stupid toothpick and stupid belt buckle.

“I ain’t sweet,” you shot back and it pulled a chuckle out of him, a low, rough sound that put a flicker of heat between your ribs.

He cut the engine on his truck, boots shuffling in the grass as he hopped out, and the heavy slam of his door told you today just wasn’t gonna be your day.

Tyler tutted at you, teasing. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Sawyer?” and that snagged your attention.

Dismounting faster than he could blink, you were out of the saddle and marching across the corral to kick at the fence board his boot was resting on. He stumbled back at the force of it and laughed again, flicking his toothpick off into the wheel ruts of the driveway.

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in defense and took his sunglasses off, tongue running along his bottom lip, “Didn’t come here to get my ass kicked.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snarked, pulling your hat off to fan at your face, “You know I’m trainin’ right now.”

“Mmhm,” he agreed, notching his foot back between the fence boards and leaning his elbows lazy on top, “But I also know it’s pushin' a hundred degrees and the humidity’s sittin’ at 50%. You been drinkin’ water?”

You swallowed, mouth dry — No — and rolled your eyes before turning to walk Tilly back to the gate, “I’m fine.”

He pushed off the fence and chased a line around the corral, hollering after you, “Betcha didn’t know I’m almost as good at chasing bullshit as I am tornados!”

You groaned, dumbass, and reached the gate with Tilly in tow, but Tyler’s hand was on the latch before you could get to it.

“So. I call bullshit,” he said again, a little out of breath and eyes stuck on the way your lips twitched against a smile. “What d'you say we go get an iced tea or something,” he opened the gate and somehow you managed to pass through without so much as a glance in his direction.

Stick to your guns.

“No, Tyler.”

“Ah, c’mon,” he insisted as you pushed past him to the stable, “You and I both know it’s too hot to be out here. So does Tilly.”

But you ignored him, walked Tilly into her stall and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew Tyler had propped himself up on the other side. Arms folded over the top of the gate and hat tipped back just a little, but you went to work anyway undoing Tilly’s bridle, moving easily down to work at the buckle on the saddle and heaved it off her back.

“Least make yourself useful,” you huffed, saddle in hand and shoving it over the gate into Tyler’s chest.

“Shit–” he grunted, fingers scrambling to grab hold of it. A frown tugged down at the corners of his mouth, but he walked the saddle to the tack room anyway and came back with a renewed sense of purpose. “C’mon, Sawyer. Just a nice cold iced tea between friends?”

Sawyer. The nickname he’d gifted you when you’d moved in next door, a nod to your home town – Sawyer, Oklahoma. The home you’d left. The one you tried to forget. The place that held too many memories, too much hurt, and made your chest ache every time you thought about it.

You stopped brushing Tilly and let her get after a much needed drink of water, heaving a sigh from your lungs. It was cooler in the stable and without the sun beating down on you, you didn’t need your button down anymore. Fingers moving to undo the damp, long-sleeved, shirt clinging to your skin, it sighed with relief as the fabric shifted to let the breeze sweep over you.

“Tyler. I need to focus on training,” you grumbled glancing up at him, but it was mistake.

Without his sunglasses, you could see him tracking the movement of your hands. The buttons as they slipped through the loops one at a time. The heady mix of your sweat and shampoo a sweet scent lingering in the air between you and it made you feel dizzy. Made you want something you knew you shouldn’t have. Tyler knew it too as he swallowed thick, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw ticking as he bit down on the feeling flickering in his chest.

“Promise I won’t ask you again if you still hate me in an hour,” he said, tone a little strangled, and your lips betrayed you, the corner of your mouth tugging up in the world’s tiniest smile.

“Honest?” you challenged, quirking a skeptical brow and he winked.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” he traced his fingers over his chest and you swore right then and there you’d be the one to kill him if he put even one toe out of line.

❝ THE MINUTE THAT I SAW YOU WALKIN’ OVER, I FIGURED I WAS DIGGIN’ MY GRAVE. AND YOU HAD THE SHOVEL, I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE, BUT YOU’RE JUST THE KIND OF TROUBLE I CRAVE. ❞

Your property was a few miles out of town, a small farmhouse with an old horse stable on seventy-eight acres you rented to the Calhoun brothers for their fescue. It was a lot of work. The house badly needed updating, but it was all you could afford with your winnings from nationals last year and in the end, it didn’t matter – if you hadn't gotten a fresh start you’d have suffocated.

So, a little over a year ago when you’d pulled up the dirt drive in your red Ford pickup, Tilly’s trailer in tow, you felt like you could breathe again. Felt like this little patch of earth there on the outskirts of Tulsa was just what you needed, but when you started hauling boxes out of the truck bed you heard the one thing you didn’t need coming up the road.

Your neighbor.

Tyler Owens.

Renowned twister chaser and resident hot air balloon with an ass that could make even the most beat up pair of Wranglers look good. You knew before he even opened his mouth that he was trouble, but he was easy on the eyes and – surprisingly – pretty helpful.

When your roof sprung a leak during a particularly bad downpour he came over. Climbed up the ladder with a hammer and nails hanging off the tool belt on his hips and had it patched in twenty minutes.

When your chickens got loose and took off into the Calhoun’s fescue he and his horse Banjo helped corral them back up and into the coop before they did too much damage to the crops.

And when he’d found you at the Tin Bucket last year, too many drinks deep after losing at the Fourth of July rodeo, he drove you home. Held your hair out of your face while you puked and cried and spilled your guts to him in a muddled mess and didn’t say anything after. Kept your secrets just that, secret.

“Still with me, Sawyer?”

Tyler’s voice cut into your thoughts and you blinked over at him from the other side of the truck bench.

“What?”

“You’re not here,” he chuckled, brows pinched with just the smallest bit of worry. “You’re somewhere else.”

“Oh,” you felt your cheeks grow hot and tossed your gaze out your window, “Just thinkin’ about Friday. Adeline Stout got a 13:20 last weekend, I gotta beat that to qualify for nationals.”

“Hm,” he hummed, thumbs tapping on the steering wheel, “Seems like you had it earlier.”

“Yeah, ’til you drove up.”

Tyler huffed a laugh under his breath and clicked his tongue, “Sorry. Should’a called first.”

Silence settled in the cab and the air between you buzzed, felt like static, charged and pulling taut with something loaded until the truck bumped over the curb of the parking lot and shattered it in an instant.

You couldn’t jump out of his rig fast enough and didn’t wait for him as you cut a path over the asphalt and into the dingy little diner, the bell overhead tinkling happily.

“Howdy, sugar!” Dot greeted you with her big, friendly smile, cowboy hats dangling from her earrings as she gave the man at the counter a refill on his coffee.

“Hey, Dot,” you couldn’t help smiling back, the bell on the door jingling again letting you know Tyler had finally caught up.

“Dottie, you are lookin’ fine as ever,” Tyler grinned, smooth like butter and the older woman chuckled, hand on her hip as she watched him pick out a booth.

“And you’re lucky I’m pushin’ seventy,” she teased back with a wink.

“Age is just a number!” Tyler played along and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll take a couple iced teas, please,” you cut in, Dottie giving you a knowing smile and it made your cheeks flush again.

“And fries,” Tyler added, sliding into a booth by the window and you followed suit, sitting across from him on the glittering red plastic of the seat.

“You got it, hoss,” Dot nodded, hollering the order back over her shoulder to the kitchen and pouring two big glasses of her famous sweet iced tea.

Picking at the peeling vinyl table top, your knee bounced, a silent protest at having to be still for a minute.

You always made sure to keep yourself busy. To keep your mind from wandering off back home and everything that came with it, and sitting across from Tyler Owens at the quiet little diner while Dolly Parton sang overhead about working nine to five wasn’t doing you any favors.

“So,” Tyler started, dragging out the ‘o’ and lifting his brows at you, “How’re the girls?”

The girls. The chickens.

You deadpanned him and shook your head, propped your chin in your hand with your elbow on the table.

“They’re fine.”

“Good, good. And the Calhouns?”

“Also fine,” you shot him a look, a side-eye glance, but he only smiled.

“And did you get your boots worked in for Friday?”

“Tyler,” you firmed, turning finally to look at him straight on and his smile faded.

“What?”

“All this–this small talk and being chummy and whatever, it’s just–”

“Just what?” he asked, leaning forward on the table toward you and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“What’s your game?” you leveled, meeting his gaze despite the way he had your pulse fluttering against your neck and his lips curved up.

“No game. Just bein’ a good neighbor.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned forward just a little more. “Thought you said you were good at chasin’ bullshit,” you pushed and he burned, a flush of red from the collar of his white t-shirt all the way up to his cheeks.

“Alright, two iced teas and some fries. You need anything else, peaches?” Dot cut right between the two of you with a couple of glasses and a red plastic basket piled high with shoestring french fries.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tyler recovered, thankful for the out and took the basket from Dot. “Think that’ll do it for now.”

“Mmhm,” Dot murmured, clicking her long pink nails on the table top. “You two be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” fell out of Tyler’s mouth automatically as she left you it.

You picked up a bottle of ketchup and squeezed some into the corner of the basket, swirling a fry around in it and lifting it to your lips to take a bite. Maybe you should be nicer to Tyler, should give him a chance, the benefit of the doubt, but you weren’t about to be made a fool again. Weren’t ready to put your walls down yet even if he was mostly sweet and only a little sour – the fun kind – but maybe it wasn’t fair.

“Gonna be outta town on Tuesday,” Tyler started, looking over at you through the long sweep of his lashes, green eyes meeting yours across the table. “In case you punch a hole through your wall or something.”

“Ha, ha. Should do stand up.”

He grinned. “You wanna come with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“With you?”

“Yeah, I gotta go pick up a case of rockets for our next video series.”

You scoffed, half-laugh half-nerves, but didn’t say no and his grin widened, eyes narrowed and almost closed with the way he was smiling so big.

“Pick you up at six,” he grabbed a bunch of fries and shoved them into his mouth, “Includes complimentary coffee.”

And something in you melted with the way he was looking at you. The way you could hear the tease in his tone softening and shifting more sincere and you cracked and finally gave him a real, honest-to-god smile.

“Fine,” you surrendered as he slapped a hand on the table and made you jump.

“Hell yeah,” he buzzed and you laughed, dropping your gaze to your lap so he couldn’t see you blushing.

“Keep your pants on,” you chided and the laugh that pushed from his lungs was hard enough to made his head tip back on the seat, but then you felt a buzz in your pocket.

You weren’t expecting a call.

Then Tyler’s buzzed on the table top.

And Dot’s from back behind the counter.

And the farmer’s at the booth behind you and when the siren sounded from down the street your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Tyler breathed.

Jolting up from the table he pressed a hand to the window and looked out across the plains stretching out ahead of you. Cotton candy clouds turned dark and heavy, curling in on themselves and tinged in an eerie yellow and when he finally turned to look back at you, the feeling in your stomach twisted into something more ominous.

A storm was coming.

[ NOTE -> THIS IS PART 1 OF A 3 PART SERIES – STAY TUNED FOR THE LAST INSTALLMENT! ]

crappymixtape™ • tyler owens / twisters masterlist to come!  ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[wizardscrown]

first week of 2024 in albums <3

[theonottsbxtch]

Stay with Me | LS2

a/n: it’s 4am, i’m sad and in bed so now you have to suffer with me smau + written | logan x ex!reader

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yn’s appartment - london 10:46pm

there was a faint knock at yn’s apartment door. for a moment, she found herself paralysed, sat at the kitchen island, knowing exactly who was on the other side. the memory of their public breakup, where tears had flowed freely and hearts had broken visibly, replayed in her mind. part of her wanted to leave him standing there, to make him feel the same abandonment she'd felt. yet, another part of her yearned to open the door and pretend that nothing had ever happened, to fall into the comfort of his arms as if the past four months hadn't been filled with silence and longing.

taking a deep breath, she set her phone down and cautiously approached the door. she hesitated, her heart pounding as she checked the peephole. the sight she glimpsed through the small glass circle made her stomach twist. twisting the lock with trembling fingers, she pulled the door open, and the sight before her took her breath away. logan stood there, a shadow of the man she remembered. his once vibrant, playful eyes were now red and bloodshot, a faded grey hoodie hanging loosely over an old band tee she’d given him. his hair was disheveled, and he looked worn, as though the world had beaten him down.

seeing him like this, so vulnerable and broken, she couldn't stop herself. she stepped forward, her heart aching, and wrapped her arms around him. the familiar scent of him, mixed with a hint of cologne and something distinctly him, flooded her senses. just like the old days, his head dropped onto her shoulder, and she instinctively reached up, running her fingers through his messy blonde hair. ut felt both foreign and familiar, a bittersweet reminder of what they once had.

gently, she pulled him inside, closing and locking the door behind them, her eyes darting around to ensure no one had seen him enter. the last thing she needed was another media frenzy. as logan stepped further into the apartment, he looked around, a ghost haunting a place that had once been his home. the room felt different, colder, as if his absence had sucked the warmth out of it.

"i heard what happened," yn broke the heavy silence, her voice soft. logan turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for something, perhaps forgiveness or understanding. she resisted the urge to close the distance between them again, to hold him and never let go. "i’m sorry."

logan let out a bitter laugh, the sound void of any real humor. "it was bound to happen," he muttered, his voice thick with resignation. the way he said it, as if the way he'd been treated was something he deserved, made her chest tighten.

"it doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel shit about it," she replied, her voice firmer. she hated seeing him like this, so defeated and hopeless.

he looked down at his feet, the once pristine trainers now scuffed and dirty. he fiddled with his phone in his pocket, avoiding her gaze. "i was going to get replaced anyway," he mumbled, as if trying to convince himself that it was true.

she shook her head, frustration slightly bubbling up inside her. "logan, that's not—"

"i came to apologise," he interrupted, finally looking up at her. the vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "four months later?" she asked, a mix of disbelief and hurt in her voice. she had waited for so long, clinging to hope, and now he was here, apologising as if that could undo the pain.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, a gesture she knew all too well. "i..." he struggled for words, his voice breaking slightly. "yeah. i’m sorry it took so long. i just... didn't know how to face you after everything."

as logan stood there, searching yn’s face for any sign of what she was feeling, he suddenly looked away, his shoulders slumping. the weight of everything seemed to press down on him, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, letting out a shaky breath.

"yn," he began, his voice raw and unsteady, "everything in my life has been falling apart. not just with us... but with everything." he looked back at her, his eyes tired. "racing, the friends, my family... it's all gone to shit. and i kept thinking, if i could just hold it together, i could find a way to fix it all."

she felt a pang of sympathy, her frustration momentarily overshadowed by concern. "logan, you don't have to—"

he shook his head, cutting her off. "no, i do. i need you to understand." his voice cracked, and he took a step closer, as if drawn to her by some invisible force. "you were the only one who ever really understood me. the only one who saw me for who i am, not just what I could be or what I failed at. i pushed you away because i was scared, but i always knew you were the one person who got me."

tears welled up in yn’s eyes as she listened to him, her heart aching for the pain he was clearly feeling. she wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but she stayed rooted in place, struggling with her own emotions.

logan’s voice broke as he continued, his words spilling out in a rush. "i know i don't deserve you back. i don't expect you to forgive me or to want me in your life again. but i couldn't live with myself if i didn't tell you... i’m sorry. for everything. for hurting you, for being a coward, for not being the person you deserved."

he looked at her, his expression one of utter defeat. "i’m so, so sorry, yn. i don't know what to do without you. everything feels wrong, and i just... i just wanted you to know that."

before she could respond, logan’s composure crumbled. tears streamed down his face, and he let out a choked sob, his body shaking. the sight of him so broken and vulnerable broke down the last of her defenses. she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. he buried his face in her shoulder, his sobs muffled against her.

for a long moment, they stood there, holding each other. yn felt the warmth of his tears soaking into her shirt, and she stroked his back soothingly, her own tears silently falling. the pain and confusion of the past months seemed to dissolve in that moment, replaced by a deep, shared sorrow.

logan clung to her as if she were his lifeline, his cries slowly subsiding into quiet sniffles. he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his eyes red and puffy. "thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "for listening. for being here. even if it's just for now... thank you."

yn nodded, wiping away a tear from his cheek. "you’re welcome," she replied softly. "but, logan... i can't promise anything. i need time to think about everything."

he nodded, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “i get it," he said, his voice steadying. "take all the time you need. i just... i just needed to tell you. and i hope... i hope you find the happiness you deserve, with or without me."

she looked into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability and honesty there. taking a deep breath, she decided to share her own truth. "logan," she began, her voice trembling slightly, “i still love you. even after everything, i still love you. it just... it might take some time for me to figure out if we can really make this work again."

his eyes widened, hope and disbelief mingling in his expression. "you still love me?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

she nodded, her own tears starting to fall again. "yes, i do. but love alone isn't always enough. we need to rebuild trust, to heal from the past. and that takes time."

logan reached out and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away her tears. "i’ll wait," he promised, his voice filled with a newfound determination. "i’ll do whatever it takes to prove that i can be the person you deserve. i don't expect it to be easy, but I'm willing to fight for us."

yn placed her hand over his, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the warmth of his touch. "we’ll see," she said softly, opening her eyes to meet his. "for now, let's just take it one step at a time."

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, logansargeant, userone and 1,722 others

everyone needs a @/yourbestfriend in their life

*tap to load more comments*

userone: i love their friendship

usertwo: petition to have them date

yourbestfriend: much needed prosecco

yourusername: yup

userthree: what’s that supposed to mean

userfour: not logan lurking in the likes

userfive: who got her those flowers

usersix: has she moved on?

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, alex_albon and 872,272 others

thank you for having me @/goodmorningbritain

*tap to load comments*

userone: he’s not back in the states for summer break?

usertwo: selfcare king

userthree: rumour was he was seen in yn’s neighbourhood

userfour: matcha >>>>

alex_albon: waiting for you to take me to that cafe you talk so highly of 😐

logansargeant: tomorrow?

alex_albon: i guess i can free my schedule for you 🙄

userfive: i’m going to miss logan and alex together

usersix: good riddance

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, logansargeant, userone and 1,732 others

surround yourself with the right people

*tap to load more comments*

userone: preach

usertwo: i beg your pardon

yourbestfriend: you and iiiii stargazzzzinggg

yourusername: intertwining soullsssss

userthree: is that logan??

userfour: not what i expected to see on a fine tuesday morning

userfive: pls tell me my parents are getting back together

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, alex_albon and 294,722 others

recharging 🔋

*tap to load more comments*

userone: and what if i told you that was my husband, what next?

usertwo: who looks so AH

userthree: who’s here after having seen yn’s story?

userfour: 👀👀

alex_albon: mate help me lily wont stop flaunting that she got more fish

logansargeant: we’re both suffering

userfive: both? 👀

usersix: oh i fear he cleared all you haters with this post

userseven: i’m being delusional again

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, yourbestfriend, alex_albon and 2,262 others

love wins

*tap to load comments*

userone: oh😀

usertwo: YES

userthree: love wins 🥹

yourbestfriend: love seeing you happy my love

yourusername: thank you for everything

userfour: i crave a friendship like theirs

alex_albon: glad to have you back yn, when are we next pranking logan?

yourusername: clearing my uni schedule as we speak

logansargeant: hey 😞

yourusername: sorry bbs

userfive: my delusions were right

usersix: the way they broke up broke my heart, i’m glad they’re back together

userseven: mum and dad

usereight: now that they’re back together, everyone repeat after me FUCK WILLIAMS 🗣️

logansargeant: luckiest man ever

yourusername: i love you 🤍🩵

logansargeant: i love you more, there is no one i would want by my side more than you 🤍🩵

usernine: omw to my date with my shotgun!!

userten: got room for one more?

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Part 23

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I’m so relieved to finally be getting to this fun part of the story!

word count: 5,699

-Part 22-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Already there’s a horse and cart in the street, trunks and chests neatly stacked in the back, iron padlocks weighing heavy to keep possessions sealed. Blankets and rugs are tied in bundles, bedsheets and pillowcases that you can still smell, remember the feel of them; the warmth they retained. The heat of bare skin flush to your back. Sleepy golden eyes, sharp even when softened by early morning light. 

There’s a lump in your throat. 

Held between two chests is an open-topped crate, a myriad of personal belongings jumbled about inside: a box you know contains golden rings, his favourite being the one plain band that wraps two hands around his thumb, clinging snugly; a board game you’d tried to play after drinking, back before you’d become closer than friends; wooden goblets with geometric designs burned into their curve; a pair of glasses with circular, coloured lenses. A stack of something wrapped in cloth which must be crockery, ceramic plates with illustrations of crude figures pick-axing ice. A neatly folded quilt is tied down to one of the chests, the one that had been tucked over the back of his armchair, made up of pinks, oranges, magentas, and turquoise. Small tassels hanging off the ends that he’d made himself. 

The door to his house is propped open with a wedge crafted of iron, featuring a rabbit in a coat with carrots stuffed in his pockets. Bas’ figure emerges from the comparative darkness lofting a second, smaller crate in his arms. His eyes find yours but he makes no reaction save for the tightening of the skin at his knuckles. He exits through the waist-high wooden gate, walking to the back of the cart to heft the crate in front of the one your eyes had been previously resting on. “Hi,” you say, stepping closer but pausing a respectful distance away. Bas makes no sign of acknowledgement, muscles in his forearms flexing as he hefts the crate into place, pressing it flush to the back. You consider walking away—he clearly isn’t interested in speaking with you, but… “You’re leaving already?” 

Bas turns, his expression unchanging, still retaining the frown of concentration from transporting heavy objects to and fro but seemingly colder now you’ve appeared. His stature casts a shadow over you. “Something you want?” He asks, tone clipped but not quite sharp enough to be impatient. Softened at the end. You watch him for a moment—nothing seems sufficient enough or appropriate. ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I miss you’, ‘how are you’. Would any of those suffice? You can’t imagine them doing so. Instead you shift on your feet, casting a portion of your attention to the moving wagon standing stationary at the foot of his front garden. “It looks like you’ll be gone soon,” you observe, speaking quieter than normal for an open day. After a beat, Bas folds his arms over his chest. “Either tomorrow or the day after.” Golden eyes shift to the cart, glancing over the trunks, “Ma’s still got a few things to pack, but once those are loaded we’ll be off.” 

Off and gone to the Winter Court, almost entirely out of your reach. You only have six months left to live—do you have enough time to spend on giving him space? You can’t expect him to forgive you so suddenly, so swiftly. People aren’t made like that. But can you risk that time? If you die before seeing him again, or if this is the last time you see him you can’t risk being anything other than honest. But being honest in a situation like this…you need the time to pass to give it the deserved weight. Springing your timeline on him… You don’t want to tell him like this. So instead you look over your shoulder, glancing back into his house. “Got any more boxes that need carrying?” 

“Carrying boxes isn’t going to fix shit,” Bas mutters, the poisoned tone catching you off guard. Have you earned yourself that venom? Apparently so. 

“I just want to help,” you murmur, looking back at him. “I might not get to see you again.” 

“Your sister’s High Lady. I’m sure reaching Winter Court would hardly require a lift of her fingertips,” Bas snaps. His lips press themselves together, like he regrets the outburst. You look down, peering at the cobbles beneath your feet and give a small shake of your head. “I… If you don’t want me there, I won’t visit.” The words sting your throat like bile, hating how they sound on your tongue. “If you want your space I won’t intrude. But it… Obviously I’d like to be able to see you again.” 

A few beats pass without a reply, the quiet resting on your shoulders and you make an effort not to let it ruin the moment. You clear your throat, shaking off the mood and glancing up at him, “So. Any crates I can take?” Your heart quickens—if he denies you here it’s a full stop. You can’t imagine you’d be able to find him again if you lose him. The Winter Court is large, and their ties already strained with the Night Court—there’ll be no strings to pull. But it’s his decision now. It’s in his hands. 

Bas’ jaw works, his eyes narrowing on you in a way they haven’t done in a long time, but it seems he relents, nodding once toward his house, a loc falling across his temple with the sharp movement. “There are two small boxes in the front entrance, one contains shoes and fabrics, and the other contains herbs. Herbs go on top, yeah?” You nod your head, keeping the smile locked up tight. “Herbs go on top.” 

The box full of shoes is surprisingly weighty and you wonder if there are more than a few pairs of boots inside, studded with metal that might be weighing the crate down in your arms. Still you manage, sliding it into place on the last row of space available in the wagon before heading back to collect the box of herbs. You can pick out some of the scents: tarragon, mint, thyme. A hint of pepper and cardamon. The slight warmth of cinnamon and ginger. Rosemary. “I won’t forgive you if you try and make off with my herb box,” a voice calls from further inside. 

You start, gripping the small chest tight. 

Bas is watching from the living room doorway that leads to the hallway, stairs appearing behind him and the kitchen a little further beyond. It’s disturbing in a surreal way, to be standing inside the bones of his home. Gone are the dried herbs and flowers that had been strung along the walls and ceiling beams, rug removed from the floors and furniture sparse of cushions and quilts. Everything that made it a home, every personal detail seems to have been painstakingly stripped away, leaving only that scent of rosemary and freshly tilled earth that has familiarity stretching aching limbs in your chest. 

You summon a huff of laughter, glinting down at the plain chest. “It’s certainly tempting me…” You remember trying foods with him. Things you didn’t have access to in the woods. Dishes you wouldn’t have had access to even if you’d remained in high society. All the different herbs and spices they have here, in Prythian. The range of climates allowing for a variety of taste to grow. You remember the first time he’d soaked chicken in wine among other things, how the meat had tasted a little more bearable, flavoured and soft and tender. Feeling more like meat than leather, without the salty burn to help preserve the food.

“One more upstairs then it’s on Ma.” Bas’ statement cuts through the silent memories washing through, bringing a tremble to your fingertips but you nod. Once you load this chest into the wagon then it’s done on your end. Nothing to keep the conversation going. You manage a small smile but don’t meet his eyes as you turn with the chest in hand, walking it out to the cart and loading it in. From inside you pick out the footfalls of Bas descending the staircase and you stand back to give him room. He slides the box into place and lifts the panels of wood that will prevent any trunks from sliding out on an uphill, latching it in place. Safe and secure. 

For some reason you can’t look at him. As if looking at him will mean acknowledging it’s over, and he’s going away. 

For a moment you simply stand alongside the wagon, neither sure what to say, what to do now the shared task has been completed. Now it’s time for another decision to be made. 

Bas breaks the silence. “Thanks for the help.” You look at him, running your eyes over his expression, trying to gain hints to what’s okay to reply with. Trying to make the right choices. “Thanks for letting me help,” you reply, clearing your throat and glancing back to the wagon. Bas pats his hand once against the wood, shifting to lean his weight against the structure. “We’re going to be heading up northeast first,” he tells you and your ears prick with hope. “Ma’s got a sister who lives around there—near the coast. They haven’t spoken in a long time, but she figured if we’re moving it would be good to let her know.” 

You nod your head slowly. “Have you met your aunt before?” Bas shrugs his shoulders, his eyes skating across belongings piled up in the back, “don’t think so. Not one I can remember, at least.” You nod again, looking toward the cobbles. You should be going. Letting him get on with packing up and moving. “I hope-” Your voice catches and you have to clear your throat, swallowing a breath. Looking up a little to meet his eyes. “I hope things are better for you, wherever you go. For you and your mother.” Is that too far? Have you pushed too much? Bas seems to be asking himself the same questions, and you hope he comes to a different conclusion. 

“Pa mentioned a statue to me once,” he says softly. “One made entirely out of ice, with snakes carved, wrapping around the feet of the first High Lord of the Winter Court. Apparently it’s about the height of one of the Old Pine’s and every scale of the snake’s skin was carved by the same hand.” Bas shifts, his golden eyes locking with yours. “I hadn’t thought much of it, but we’ll be trying to find a spot around that statue since it’s where Pa grew up. Something he remembered from his childhood.” 

Your heart falls numb for a second before skipping into a swift pulse, bumping against your ribs and you take in a subtle breath. You nod your head. Ice statue with snakes. Relief strikes so hard your legs are weakened, having to shift your weight from one hip to the other so a knee doesn’t buckle. “I hope you get to see it,” you manage, sounding strained before you swallow, nodding your head. “I hope you find what you’re looking for there.” 

Bas’ mouth tightens into something that might have been a smile, then he’s nodding his head once in reply and patting the cart again. “I need to check on Ma now—see how she’s managing with packing.” He pushes off from the wagon, and you turn to watch him pass through the waist-high garden gate. He pauses. 

“Give me some time though, yeah? I need…time. Some space. Let me adjust and settle down for a bit.”

You nod your head, happy enough he seems to be allowing you to visit. You can work from there. Earn back his trust. You realise he has his back turned and can’t see you, so offer your reply, “I will.” You want to say more. I’ll miss you until then. I’m sorry. Thank you. 

But, time. 

You still have some of that left to give. 

————

You take your time walking back to the River House, following the Sidra for some way. Affording yourself the allowance to peer in shop windows, gaze at people going about their lives, wondering about what their own stories are. 

You’re happy Bas decided to tell you. Not just about where he would be moving to but about the route he’d be taking to bypass his aunt. You know he didn’t have to tell you. You weren’t entitled to that knowledge, but he decided to tell you anyway. A small piece of forgiveness—a small, tentative first step. After so much darkness in your life it seems like a tiny star twinkling in the sky, clouds parting just long enough to catch a glimpse. A promise that there is good in the world, and if you’re in a bad place now it would be foolish to stop. 

You need to keep going in order to escape it. 

————

The kitchen is surprisingly full when you enter the entry way, discarding your cloak and outer layers to the hooks on the walls, taking care to ease out the ties of your boots before also discarding them alongside other sets. 

Inside there’s no need for jumpers or cloaks, fleeces or scarves. A muffled pop of a log sounds from the living room, honestly sounding closer to someone stepping heavily on an upper floorboard but there’s something about the warmth that tells you the fire’s lit. That and you can make out the faded orange flicker on the wall parallel to the living room’s door where flame light is colouring the cream wallpaper. The smell of heated food catches your attention and your stomach shifts in response, squeezing itself together in complaint as if to remind you of how empty it is. Some warmed bread and butter would be lovely to start the day with. There might even be some chilled clotted cream available in the ice-enchanted larder. 

Rounding the corner, you’re sure you haven’t ever seen the kitchen so full. Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall beside the crockery cabinet however, you realise it’s approaching lunch time. You suppose it makes sense—if Madja’s at ten O’clock and you left after that to visit Bas, then taking your time to walk back will have brought you to lunch. That would explain the business. 

Already there’s crackling from cooking oil on the stove, the smell of heated bread and salt, the slight fattiness of meat mixing with the sweetness of sliced fruit coming from another side of the large kitchen. An egg cracks and you hear the sizzle of it as it hits the pan, the knock of steel as it slices into a chopping board, the smell of chives, onions, and tomatoes greeting you next. On the main table sits sliced bread, baked through with diced olives and rosemary, butter sitting ready for the taking on a platter with a flattened knife propped on the tray’s side. 

Feyre, Mor, and Amren are already seated at the table, each with a plate of what appears to be mashed potato surrounded by steamed beans and thickly cut ovals of tender meat. Amren's plate holds meat more that anything else. Feyre tips a deep boat of spiced sauce over her mash so it drizzles atop the vegetables before passing the boat to Mor, seeming not to care they’re eating in the kitchen rather than the connected dining room. Nesta barks something at Cassian over the loud fritz of the oil and he passes two plates to her side before returning to the chopping board, a few moments later stepping close to her side to slide the sliced chives into the pan with the eggs. A shadow whisks past you into the room, depositing salt and pepper to the side of the stove before hurriedly returning the way it had come. You turn your head quick enough to catch as it scampers back to the upper floors, disappearing through the ceiling. 

At a side along the window-lined wall is Elain, pressing her fork into some well-mashed banana before scraping it off onto some toasted bread, already softened with butter. You make your way over, taking the serrated bread knife from beside her plate to cut a slice yourself, liking the look of the thick crust and seed-scattered bread. Her eyes find you and a smile follows swiftly after, taking in your appearance, “Was it you I heard come in?” You nod, holding the bread firmly as you grind the knife forward to cut the crust, “I forgot to eat breakfast before heading out and lost track of time.”

Pulling a plate down from one of the stacks inside a cabinet with a window in you move the slice from the chopping board, “You’re having lunch?” Elain’s cheeks warm, her lips tightening as she looks guiltily out onto the front garden. “My sleep was troubled,” she admits, “I only awoke around ten thirty this morning.” 

Your brows furrow. “You’re sleeping poorly?” 

“It seems that way.” Elain exhales, pausing the sweep of her knife across the mashed banana. “It’s just the same thing over and over again. I wish the beginning would fade now it’s passed but apparently I must watch the whole sequence from start to finish.” 

She’s still getting the vision? 

You look away from her—down to the side table, “I’m sorry.” But Elain shakes her head, sighing once more before straightening her shoulders. “I’m okay. It’s just a bit of lost sleep.” Before you can ask her anymore however, the sound of footsteps catch your attention, Rhysand and Azriel apparently having finished up whatever had been keeping them from joining the lunch. Elain pushes a smile to her lips then gestures with her eyes to the table, suggesting taking a seat. You follow after her. 

“Finally given up work to grace us with your presence?” Feyre muses, resting her chin atop the smooth skin of her tough knuckles. Rhysand lifts a brow, his mouth curving with a fondness specifically meant for his mate, “I gave you plenty of attention this morning, Feyre.” But your youngest sister doesn’t blush like you would have had a lover repeated those same words for you. Instead her mouth matches his curve, blue-grey eyes alight with twinkling mischief as she inclines her head toward Azriel. “In fact I was speaking to your Shadowsinger. His presence is much more appreciated.” The male in question dips his head by a degree, taking his seat beside Amren as silently as possible while the High Lord and Lady continue their domestic teasing. 

“Is that so?” Rhysand remarks, seating himself in the chair to Feyre’s right, opposite Mor. “Will you tell me what’s so much more appreciated about my brother’s presence than my own?” Feyre arches a brow, her smile widening, “I wouldn’t want to hurt your ego, preening and engorged as it is.” Rhys’ expression shifts to something verging on smug but Mor stabs a thick oval of meat with her fork, lifting it from the plate, shifting it between Rhys and Feyre, “enough from both of you. I don’t want to hear this over lunch.” The compass point of her fork settles on her cousin, Mor’s nose wrinkling, “Az also isn’t a smug bastard, unlike someone else I can think of.”

Elain takes the open seat beside Rhysand and opposite Amren, setting her plate down and drawing her chair back, leaving you to stiffly take the one at her side, across from Azriel. What poor seating choices you’ve all made.

Behind Amren and Azriel, Nesta presses to Cassian’s side who’s holding the plates aloft, keeping them steady as Nesta transfers the four eggs in the pan between them, two soft yolks for the two slices of buttered bread atop each plate. 

“Azriel also remembered to bring me blood more frequently than yourself, Rhys,” Amren drawls from opposite Elain, a wicked croon on her crimson-cut mouth. “Even when he didn’t want information from me,” she adds pointedly. Rhys tilts his head, a plate appearing out of thin air before him on the table along with cutlery and a napkin, “and who’s to say those weren’t gifts sent along from myself?” But Amren doesn’t fall for it, reaching for a glass of red wine, “You won’t fool me, boy.” Rhysand shrugs his shoulders, unbothered by her relaxed attitude. “I suppose if you were still of the inclination to accept bottles of lamb’s blood you’d be receiving a box’s worth. I have a request to make of you.” 

Amren inclines her head, the black cut of her hair slicing along her sharp jaw, faint interest in her silver eyes, “Pray tell”.

Nesta casts salt and pepper over the plates of eggs and chives, then the two of them join the table. As Cassian departed before Nesta, he fills the seat to your right, while Nesta settles in the space opposite him, to Azriel’s left. The only way the current arrangement could be made worse is if Rhysand and Elain were to swap seats. You grimace internally and treasure her presence. 

The High Lord inclines his head to Azriel whose shadows settle a map of Prythian to the centre of the kitchen table. “Cassian and Nesta have already checked through Helion’s libraries. That means excluding the Night Court, there are five other Courts to examine.” As he speaks, thin shadow seeps across the parchment to darken the land of Night and Day, signalling they’ve each been studied.

“Between us,” Rhysand continues, “we can split between those remaining Courts, in turn accessing their libraries. Where I’ll need your help, dear Amren, is translating the books we encounter in the Old Language. I would rather not have to take them all on myself.” Rhysand pauses, lifting violet eyes from the map to the slight female diagonal from his seat, “What do you say?” 

Amren seems to consider his request and you have to fathom how respected she is to so idly take her time considering a request from a High Lord. A few beats pass as her grey eyes trace the island, then blood red lips are cutting into a grin, moon-white teeth flashing in her mouth, “I think I’m going to enjoy opening my Solstice presents this year.” 

Rhysand smiles and you wonder if he was confident Amren would accept or whether this was a gamble on his part. Feyre would probably be able to tell.

Across from the High Lord, Mor clinks her glass with Amren’s, the two females grinning from the other side of the table. There’s a smile on Feyre’s face but you imagine it’s one of those ones that rather than being of your own choice is truly the result of the infectious kind of happiness—seeing people you love enjoying themselves. 

From the other end of the table however, Nesta is studying the map, her silver eyes not even scanning the table before they’re finding Rhysand—suitably distanced from one another. “Five courts and seven of us. I would think you and Feyre would be remaining in the Night Court, leaving us with a court each,” Nesta points out, her tone verging on mild boredom. Steel glints in her hands as cutlery catches the light. “Do you intend for us each to cover the libraries of a court, or do you possess secret reinforcements on hand?” 

The beat of pause that follows her inquiry stretches a fraction of a second longer than it normally would, the tensing as if preparing for a collision to occur as it always feels when those two acknowledge one another. But Rhysand inclines his head to his right and the tension dissipates as swiftly as it had gathered. “I wouldn’t call your sisters secrets,” he muses, slowly. “But yes: reinforcements.” 

You blink. 

From the stiffness of Elain’s shoulders you imagine this is news to her, too, which brings you some level of comfort. More comfort when Elain is the one who meets Rhysand’s gaze, asking, “scouring the libraries for—what?” The relief settles deep. This setting is mildly frightening as it is without the pressure of handling easily observable interactions with others.

Rhysand’s attention settles onto Elain but you get the strange feeling it’s somehow also extending to yourself, “I believe Lucien mentioned the matter of the Prison.” Violet eyes flick over to you. “And that Feyre offered an explanation of the situation last night?” You avoid an answer by diverting your own attention to Elain who is still watching the High Lord. She nods. 

“Would you be willing to help?” Rhysand asks, without much preamble. 

Help? Help how? If it means coming into contact with a single creature that’s supposed to be inside that Prison your answer has to be a firm no. If it means attempting to wield even an ounce of your magic that seems to be sucking the marrow from your bones every passing day your answer has to be a firm no. If it means- 

Your thinking time comes to an end when Elain nods her head, and violet eyes once again flick past her onto yourself. Decision time.

You shift in your seat, unwilling to offer a definite answer, “If I can.” 

The High Lord nods and again you wonder if it was a gamble in relying on your help. As Nesta pointed out, one each to a Court seems an impossible task. But how are two extras going to aid that task? You’d have to pair up, but there would still not be enough of you. This seems to be Rhysand’s next subject matter as he again nods to Azriel, shadows pulling the map closer to the centre of the table so all can see it. Besides you, Cassian’s torso blocks out light as he leans forward, wings casting shadow upon the floor as you each examine the map with new eyes.

“So who’s tasked with which Court?” The General asks, “And who’s taking a solo trip?” 

Instinctively you’d imagine Azriel and Mor would be the two to travel solo—they seem to be the most suited to handling a task like this on their own, but what do you know?

“Well you certainly won’t be visiting Summer Court after obliterating that building,” Mor deadpans. 

“It shouldn’t have been built there,” Cassian replies with a look of mischief.

Leaning closer, Nesta nods her head to the map, “I don’t think Spring Court is a good idea for Cassian and I. I could manage Tamlin but I threatened him the last time I saw him.” Cassian’s smile widens. You guess it makes sense those two would be a pair. “If Summer Court is off the table then we’ll take either Dawn Court or Autumn Court.” 

Right.

Someone’s going to have to scour the Autumn Court. 

Besides you, Elain clears her throat. “I could go to the Spring Court.” She shifts in her seat, nodding to the lower portion of fae-inhabited lands. “I’m sure if I asked, Lucien would be willing to accompany me, and we have an alliance with them, too. I don’t imagine the High Lord of Spring being a great threat to myself but he certainly won’t be to Lu.” It’s a surprisingly sound argument. But if Elain pairs with Lucien than means you’ll be either with Mor or Amren—unless you could remain here and help search any other books in the Night Court with Feyre. 

Just as you’re about to offer the option however, Azriel speaks. “Are your ties with Viviane still sustaining, Mor?”

Mor nods her head though her smile fades almost imperceptibly.

The Shadowsinger nods. “If Mor handles the Winter Court, and Elain and Lucien take the Spring Court, that leaves Dawn, Summer, and Autumn between the rest of us.” Azriel’s shadows shift, further darkening the Courts now with assigned explorers. “Feyre and Rhysand will be staying here, taking care of ruling and the Illyrian texts?” 

The High Lord nods his head, “I’ll be covering the Hewn City, too, and splitting any ancient books between Amren and myself. Feyre will be helping with newcomers.”

“And if Cassian and Nesta are planning to move together that leaves the Summer Court,” Azriel states, hazel eyes find your own set across the table, “which you and I will cover.” 

You try to convince yourself the silence that passes over the table doesn’t stretch like you think it does. 

Hazel eyes hold yours for a second longer before returning back to the map, the Summer Court now tentatively cast in shadow. “That means Cassian and Nesta can take either Dawn or Autumn, but one pair will have to take two courts.” 

At your side, Elain fumbles. “She could come with me,” Elain pushes, “I’m sure she could help in Spring.” 

“Or with me and Cassian,” Nesta presses. 

“She could stay here,” Feyre adds, then turns to Rhysand. “Besides, the Summer Court libraries are part of the Old Temple they have which are deep in the jungle, aren’t they?” Her blue-grey eyes fall to the map, brows pinched, standing from her chair and Mor slides the map along so Feyre can jab her nail to the thick jungle of the Summer Court, an X marked in its middle. “Those jungles are dense, aren’t they,” Nesta adds, glancing to Cassian, a hard look on her face, “no flying overhead.” 

“Which is why we should be the ones to go,” Azriel says, keeping calm but firm. 

Nesta narrows her eyes, silver boring into the male at her side. “The creatures in that jungle are magical, like most of the beasts spread across Prythian. Not to mention poison and venom, and parasites in water streams unless you know which are fresh and safe to drink from. Even the beetles can be lethal, so unless you take a guide which may alert your presence in a foreign court, it will be too dangerous.” 

“Then it’s perfect that she can tell the difference between the poisonous creatures and the harmless ones.”

Azriel holds Nesta’s gaze for a beat before turning to you. “You’ve read about the jungle haven’t you. About the creatures inside?”

You mentioned the spiders the other day.

“I can go with her instead,” Nesta says, eyes sharpening. 

“You won’t be able to protect her as well as I can.” There’s no condescension in his statement, just fact. She’s learning from him and Cassian how to fight, after all. How to wield a blade. 

Nesta’s eyes remain sharp, not straying a second from their target. The temperature seems to rise, air thickening. You swallow, tongue flicking out over dry lips, “I could tell them apart.”

“No. You already have a limited life-span; you aren’t shortening it any further,” Nesta says calmly, her eyes still piercing into Azriel. And yet it’s Elain who shifts again in her seat, sitting straighter, “If she says she can tell the difference, she can tell the difference.” Elain looks over to you, a small smile on her lips. “She’s the best one to send to the Summer Court.”

A muscle flickers in Nesta’s jaw, a few, heavy moments of tension weighing through the room that have your pulse spiking for no discernible reason. Then it ends, and Nesta looks back to the map. “So Cassian and I will take the Dawn Court and the Autumn Court.” 

“You’ll only be taking the Dawn Court.” At the sound of Rhysand’s voice, Nesta’s eyes turn pure silver for a fraction of a second.

She arches a narrow brow, her expression sharper than an Illyrian blade. “So you’ll send Mor instead?” She asks, the hiss of slicing steel underlying her honed tone. “Or do you think you can get Lucien to squeeze his way back into his home-Court?” There’s a dangerous challenge in her silver eyes. 

“Neither,” the High Lord answers, slowly. “Feyre, Amren, and I will remain here. Myself searching the libraries the priestess’ cannot cover, Amren for backup on the ancient texts, and Feyre with helping as we begin a slow evacuation of the towns surrounding the Prison as a precaution and preventative. Mor will cover Winter, Elain and Lucien will cover Spring, and you and Cassian will cover Dawn.”

Even Feyre’s looking at him strangely.

“The Summer Court boarders the Autumn Court,” Rhysand states. “We can’t afford to waste time making extra journeys.” 

So you and Azriel will be taking both the Summer Court, and the Autumn Court. 

Rhysand breaks his gaze with Nesta only to find your eyes further along the table. They’re steadfast. Grounded. “Will you manage that?” 

Why put that decision on you? 

You look across the table to Azriel—why had he of all people volunteered to pair up with you? His logic checks out, but wouldn’t Mor have been able to ward off any magical creatures? Then again, your relationship with Mor isn’t the best… 

Azriel gives no clue to his emotions, other than a subtle incline of his head. 

Your throat rolls, but you force yourself to look back at Rhysand, and offer a nod of your head, “I can manage.” 

All seven Courts are ensconced in shadow. 

————

You sigh as you settle into bed, tucking yourself close between the duvet and mattress. Plumping the pillow beneath your cheek as you curl your knees to your chest. 

You’ll be leaving in three days, but bypassing a coastal town Northeast of Velaris. The condition of you entering the Summer Court jungle was you’d at least have some kind of protection other than Azriel. The sea-town is also the only town outside of Illyria that will sell Illyrian blades, and Illyrian leather from the wild oxen that inhabit the unforgiving terrain of the steppes, its hide significantly tougher to compete with the rocky climate and freezing nights.

You don’t like the idea of having to carry a blade of your own, but you suppose, knowing some of the creatures within, you’d rather be with it than without it. Although you’ve yet to decide whether you’ll be visiting Autumn first or Summer. 

But that’s a decision for tomorrow. 

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[rimaiahwrites]

Know better

Connie catches you playing with his gun… short spanking, bratty behavior, softish dom!connie, sub!black!reader, aftercare, fluffy.

———

Your stomach growled as you stood up from the bed and went to the kitchen to grab something to eat, then went to sit in the living room with Connie, “hi my handsome boyy.” You grinned as you leaned in to kiss him on the lips. He ignored you, mumbling a quick “wassup” while aggressively clicking on the buttons of his controller.

You huffed loudly, Connie was paying you no attention today because he was too busy on the game with his homeboys, eren, jean and ony. You pouted and laid your chin on his shoulder “Bubba you’re not paying attention to me” you whined. His eyes still glued to the tv not hearing a word you just said but apparently all the boys talking through his headset did because you could their loud asses asking for you to say hi, so you grabbed the headset from Connie and placed it on your head. “Hi boys yes it is I the princess.” They all chuckled and each said their hi’s and hello’s.

“Where you been at girl?” Eren asked, the group hasn’t hung out in a minute because normally the kickbacks were at yall house but since Connie been working way more lately nobody has really had the time to hang out.

You huffed and looked over at Connie giving him the side eye, “nothing just at home dealing with your annoying ass brother he’s been ignoring me all day-“ before you really finish Connie snatch the headset from you. You flipped him off and grabbed your phone to go back up stairs. “She tripping y’all know she spoiled as fuck.” Stomping your back up stairs to your room to find something to do and just as you walked past the dresser Connie’s gun was just sitting there. Curiosity got the best of you and you grabbed the heavy weapon, it looked so big in your hand compared to the way it looked in Connie’s. You pulled your bonnet off and posed in front of the mirror with it in your hand, your finger off the trigger. You giggled.

Maybe I need one I look like a boss bitch for real. You thought.

“Y’all niggas tripping man gimme my shit!” You whispered yelled putting the gun up and pointing it at the mirror playing like you was a gangsta like mr. baldie down stairs. You kept playing around with his loaded gun saying all the things you hear him say to people whenever he has to pull his gun out, which was only twice because he always tries to be on his best behavior when he has you around, he didn’t really like you seeing him like that or to put you in a position to be harmed with the nonsense he deals with. you were his little princess and he wanted you kept in the dark about all the stuff he puts himself into.

So he definitely didn’t playing with his gun so imagine the shook on your face when his deep voice said loudly “what the hell is you doing?” snatching the gun out your hand and placed in his waist band. “Huh? Nothing I-I was just-“

“Just what? Playing with my loaded gun? Which you know you ain’t supposed to be doing you know the rules”

“I know i was Broad you wasn’t paying me any attention!” You pouted crossing your arms, he fake pouted back and bend down to your height, “oh so you think just because I wasn’t going you my full undivided attention for a couple hours you can break the rule and go against what I say?” Hissed as he sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at you very angrily like he was up to something, it made you very nervous so you stayed as far away from the bed as possible. “Co’ mere” he said lowly making the come here motion with his finger, you stood there hands behind your back playing with the end of Connie’s over sized shirt that laid at the back of your thighs.

“Now y/n.” He said sternly making you jump a little as you made your way over to him. He grabbed you and flipped you on your face, your face was planted on the bed and your ass laid across his legs. You gasped when he pulled your shirt- well his shirt up over your booty and pulled your pink lace panties down to expose your bare skin.

“Con please no.”

“You know you ain’t supposed to be playing wit’ daddy’s gun, you know better so what happens when you don’t follow the rules?”

“I get Punished, but-“ he chuckled and pulled his hoodie off.

“Ain’t no buts, you getting 20 and don’t lose count because if you do imma start over.” He said raising his hand high up and smacking you hard on the plump of your ass making you jump, you gasped loudly reaching back to grab his hand.

“Move your hands, now put them under your chin.” He popped your hands making you whine and quickly hide them away from him. He spanked you again, the tears began to come, you tried your best to keep the sobs in but his rough hands kept coming down on your bottom so hard making it sting.

What made it even worse was you weren’t used him being so mean, your daddy has barely raised his voice at you let alone spank you as a punishment, the most he has done was give you light soft spanks when you would act up when he was in your guts. You almost didn’t know if your were crying from the pain or your feelings being hurt.

“Papa please no more!” You cried

“Nah I already told, never touch my guns so why I come up here to see you playing with it?” He asked hitting you again. You almost couldn’t get your words out

“I-I didn’t put my finger on the trigger!” You screamed.

“That doesn’t matter I told you not to touch it at all, what if you accidentally shot it? Huh? What if you accidentally shot yourself?” he was so mad and you could tell by the way his grip on your waist was getting tighter and his hand was coming down harder making your ass jump, his hand felt hot and your ass you were sure was a bright red by now. Him even thinking about you hurting yourself with HIS gun made him feel a little sick, he didn’t play about you.

You were on the last five spanks and you just couldn’t take it anymore so without thinking of the consequences you reached back and grabbed his hand looking him in the eyes with your big brown teary eyes. “Papa please no more m’ so sorry won’t do it again..” you pouted, you felt like you were in a daze. Connie could see it in your eyes that you were deep in sub space, you looked so far gone. His heart melted and pulled you up to face him.

“Ok baby no more.”

He grabbed your chubby cheeks and kissed your lips softly.

“You won’t ever do that again mama?” You shook your head fast. “I p-promise, never ever again.” You sniffled. Putting your head in his neck breathing his scent in deeply. He smiled and leaned back against the pillows resting against your headboard, he rubbed your back trying to sooth your sniffles and hiccups. He looked down and saw that your bottom was a dark red and big hand prints covering it. He put his hands on it and you jumped a little and let out a whine. He cringed a little, his poor baby he thought even if it was for your own good.

“I just wanna keep you safe and I can’t do that if you don’t listen to what I tell you sweetheart you understand?” You nodded your head still keeping your head in between his neck and shoulder. After a few minutes of silence you spoke very softly keeping your voice very low. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Look at me,” he demanded holding your face in his big vainly hands. “I’m not mad anymore ok? And you did such a good job at taking your punishment mama, my big girl.” He mumbled kissing you all over your face and neck.

“You deserve a reward for taking it like a good girl, what do you want? A new Prada bag? Shoes? Ice cream? Anything you want.”

“Mm…” you said patting your chin in thought. “How about a new bag and ice cream?” And Connie agreed because you were his spoiled good girl…most of the time.

———

Might do a part2 cuz it’s not as long as I wanted but just wanted to get this out

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 47 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You keep Bradley on his toes like it's your full time job. That's why it feels so good to be the one to wear you out for once. With the upcoming air show to plan for, Bradley wasn't expecting his day to be shaken up by some phone calls.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, oral, butt stuff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Somehow, Bradley was ready to go again. He was standing outside his own bedroom door, heavy cock held in his hand and a paper crown on his head. Maybe he should have felt ridiculous, but you made him feel alive. You and he were fucking to make a baby now, and that's why he was already hard. That's why he would keep getting hard all night.

Rustling noises from the other side of the door had him raring to go, but he stood as still as he could. Finally you asked, "Are you there?"

"I'm waiting patiently, Princess. I got my crown on." He was excited, and maybe he was feeling a little cocky over the fact that you asked him to wear it for you. He loved seeing you in the purple one, because it made him feel like he owned you when he fucked you in it. And he wanted to be owned by you, too. 

When you opened the door, Bradley smiled. You looked so pretty, fresh faced from the shared shower the two of you had enjoyed together. Then you held up your phone and said, "I'm recording. Hi, Daddy." 

He stroked himself, already looking forward to loading this depraved video onto the purple USB drive. "Hey, Baby," he rasped, eyes drifting down your body to find you were wearing his last name over your perfect breast. Then he froze. Your arm was hanging down at your side right next to the bulging pocket of his dress whites jacket which was stuffed full with the box holding your engagement ring. "Shit."

"You feel like making a movie?" you asked, biting your lip and running your hand up and down his jacket. Bradley released his cock and lunged for you, and you laughed as his arm encircled your body. "Wow, Daddy. Your stamina is impressive for someone who can't use a smartphone."

His heart was pounding as he slipped his hand inside the pocket and wrapped it around the little box. Carefully, while he rubbed himself against your clit to distract you, he opened it up and ran his index finger along the edge of the diamond and the smooth band. The hinge closed again, and he pulled his hand and the box slowly from the pocket. Chances were you hadn't seen it.

Bradley kissed your ear as he cupped your ass with his free hand. You were wearing your plug, and when his fingers connected with the soft silicone, he moaned your name. "You chose me over the boys your age because of my stamina, Princess."

Your head was tipped back, eyes closed as he teased along your pussy with his long middle finger, rubbing your slick opening with his fingertip. He had you distracted while he looked around for somewhere to put the ring. Skittles walked into the room as you started whining, and Bradley made eye contact with the dog before tossing the ring at her tiny bed. The box landed softly, and Skittles trotted over to it, sniffing before walking in a little circle. She plopped down with her front paws and head covering the box. Noah was right all along; the damn dog was his best friend. 

"No," you moaned as Bradley slipped his finger deeper while he pushed on your plug. "I chose you, because I'm in love with you. The stamina and big dick are just a bonus."

When he confirmed that you hadn't been filming in the direction where he'd thrown the engagement ring, he turned the phone slightly in your hand to capture him nipping at your neck. "Right now, you get anything you want since you were a good girl in the kitchen and let me fuck you hard and rough."

He started to undo the jacket buttons so he could get his hands on the rest of you. "I want you to make me feel really full. And I don't think we should waste your cum in my ass, you know?" you panted as he stroked your furled nipple with his thumb.

"Jesus Christ, Princess," he growled. Less than seven months ago, you were his innocent looking babysitter that he was jonesing for, and now you were talking about his cock and cum in your ass. He kissed you softly. "I'll give you anything you want." 

"I know you will." You handed him your phone and guided him onto the bed on his back, and then you settled on your belly in between his spread legs and took his length in both of your hands. You were quite a sight this way, wearing his jacket, and he zoomed in with your phone and watched you place an open mouth kiss on his cock.

"You look pretty like that," he whispered, and his cock jumped as you grinned. 

"Are you going to watch this when you're deployed again?"

Bradley thought about the polaroids you sent him with last time. Maybe this would be a little more secure. He could already imagine watching this when he was lonely for home and missing you badly. You kitten licked at his precum as you made eye contact with him through the phone screen, and he nodded. "Yeah. I'll add it to the special gallery of all the dirty Princess shit on my phone. Watch it when I'm craving you."

You moaned softly and buried your face in his balls, nuzzling him as he spread his legs a little wider. You wanted to get fucked. He knew that. And he wanted to fuck you again, too. So he was going to have to lay here and get through another exemplary blowjob without cumming on your face or in your mouth. But with Skittles protecting your ring from you, he smirked and tucked his free arm behind his head and just enjoyed it.

"Show me what you got, Baby," he encouraged as you ran your tongue back and forth across his balls, and then you started to suck gently. "Good girl." He let you go for a while, enjoying the feel of your lips and tongue and the soft suction. "How about you suck my cock wearing my jacket and name tag."

You got up onto your knees and flashed the BRADSHAW name tag and your tits for him. "That's my Daddy's name," you said with a bright smile, before leaning down and taking his cock deep with one smooth motion that left his hips bucking up while he gasped.

"Shit!" You looked up at him and hummed with your mouth full, eyes bright and proud of yourself. You bobbed up and down, fast and jerky, and Bradley succumbed to the various noises he wanted to make. You grabbed at his base and licked at him frantically as you rubbed yourself on the bedding, and he just knew you were going to love rewatching this fucking video as much as him. 

But now he was getting a little too close for comfort, and you were the one who said not to waste it. "You taking me for a ride?" he managed to ask as you sucked on his tip and massaged your saliva all over his balls. 

When you popped him free you whined, "I want to," before crawling up his body and kissing him. "Make me feel full?" you asked, and Bradley set the phone down to take your face gently between his hands and stroke your soft skin.

"Always," he whispered, pressing his lips to yours over and over. "I love you."

You moaned into his mouth and told him how much you loved him back between kisses that he didn't want to end. But soon enough you were pulling away and turning your back to him. He snatched up your phone again and recorded the way you eased the white jacket off your shoulders and also bunched it up so he could see your purple plug. You turned back to look at him as you gently took his cock in your hand and sank down around him.

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

You loved the way it felt, but it was almost always on the verge of just being too much. The plug and Bradley at the same time filled you so much, it made you ache with pleasure. Every small movement had you whining his name. You knew he was still filming everything, but you didn't even have to act like you were about to get off, because it really was hopeless when he made you feel this good.

"Keep going, Baby," he encouraged as you rocked back and forth on his cock, clenching in need. Then you felt his fingers on your hip and butt before he found the base of your plug and gave you a little more pressure.

"It's too much!" you moaned as you rocked. "It's so good!" You turned around to watch him panting as he held your phone and pressed on your plug again. "You'll make me come," you gasped, and he just nodded in response. You held onto the fabric of his coat and rode him slowly, letting your pleasure build and build. The soft gripping you could feel turned to a clench that left your nipples hard. You took a few deep breaths, trying your best to talk, but you couldn't.

You came with him buried deep, so full you could only make a noise that had Skittles looking up at you from her bed as she cocked her head to the side. You were keening for Bradley, riding out your pleasure as he rubbed gentle circles on your hip and encouraged you. 

Once you started to slow, teeth chattering as you realized he was still hard, you looked at him and asked, "You didn't come yet?"

He shook his head dangerously slowly and handed you the phone again. The video had been recording for twenty seven minutes, and you gasped as he sat up with his cock still inside you. "I did not, Princess. What did I tell you earlier about my stamina?"

"Oh god," you gasped as one of his hands snaked around your body and inside the jacket to squeeze your breast. 

"Now," he whispered next to your ear, "get on all fours and I'll show you exactly what I mean."

You did as you were told, and Bradley pushed the jacket up higher on your back as he fucked you every bit as hard as he had in the kitchen earlier. Your face was buried in the bedding, and you weren't sure if you were even holding the phone correctly to catch it on video, but he was working you over good. And you took it with a smile on your face as Bradley lifted you away from the blanket with his hand wrapped gently around the front of your neck. 

"Be as loud as you want," he grunted. "Let the neighbors hear for all I care. I wanna hear it."

"Daddy!" you screeched for him as he filled you up with cum. "Daddy," you gasped, voice hoarse now as he let go of you. Slowly you eased your chest all the way down, but he plucked the phone out of your hand again. 

You heard him softly say, "Look at that. What a pretty mess," as he stroked your pussy and rear end which were still in the air for him. "What a gorgeous pussy."

"Bradley," you croaked, and he patted his wet cum against you before your phone ended up on the bed next to your face. You started giggling as he peeled his jacket off of you and collected you into his arms. "That was really fun."

You licked his sticky cum from his fingers as he looked at you in reverence. "That video is fucking filthy, and I love you with everything inside me." You giggled harder as he smiled and added, "I can't wait to watch it with you."

He helped you remove your plug and get cleaned up, and you were snuggled in under the blankets, eyelids getting heavy as Bradley slipped out of the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Give Skittles a little treat for being so good," he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You watched him walk across the room naked, his body tan and toned, his penis still impressive looking even when it was soft. 

"That dog is so spoiled," you mumbled as you rolled over and started to doze. 

"Yeah, well she's my best friend."

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

Bradley woke up later than normal based on the amount of light peeking in through the windows. He needed to pick Noah up from Penny's before noon which would require driving past your old place which he didn't even like to acknowledge any longer. He watched the way you had your hand resting on his abs as you slept on him, your tits pressed against his side. 

As soon as he started to shift around in bed, he heard Skittles jump up and start to shake her collar. She was the best wing-pup, helping him keep the ring hidden from you last night. He gave her a piece of a leftover meatball late after you fell asleep, and he promised her something special for breakfast, too. And now the ring box was on the top shelf in the closet where you couldn't reach it with his old gym bag in front of it. 

"Daddy," you whined softly when he tried to get up. You wrapped your arm tighter around him. "I'm still tired."

Bradley smirked. "You're a little worn out? From last night, Baby?"

"Yes," you moaned against his chest. "Is that what you want to hear, Bradley? You have excellent stamina, and I'm worn out."

He rolled you gently onto your back and braced himself above you. "Yeah. That's what I wanted to hear." He bent his elbows in a push up position and kissed your forehead, but your hand snaked down between his body and yours and stroked his soft cock. "Not too tired after all?"

"No, I am," you told him as you closed your eyes again, but you were smiling as you kept going. "But I can tell you're not."

Bradley grunted and let you keep going for a minute more before he said, "Then why don't you just lay there and let me do all the work?" He took your smaller hands in his, and you opened your eyes as he pressed your palms to the sides of your breasts. 

"Titty fuck?" you asked quietly, almost shyly. Sometimes it was easy to forget how young you were by how well you rocked his whole world and took care of everything, but he nodded and you bit your lip.

He made sure his voice was gentle even as he positioned himself. "You've never done it before?" 

"No," you confirmed, tilting your head forward to kiss his tip. "But I want to. As long as you do all the work," you told him with a laugh.

"Mmm," he hummed. "My Princess can just lay there and look pretty." He guided your hands so his cock was nestled nice and tight between your breasts, and he started to move. "Damn." 

"Does it feel good?" you asked, your voice lazy as your eyes stayed half lidded. 

"Yeah," he groaned. "Looks hot, too." You giggled softly which only turned him on more, and he pressed his cock down against your sternum with his thumb and fucked your tits a little faster. You kept changing the pressure with your hands, and he could feel his balls starting to tighten as they were treated to the softness of your skin. 

You looked pleased with yourself when after a few more minutes, he was staring down at your face and panting. He was thinking about painting your lips with his cum to make it look like your signature lip gloss. When you spoke, he changed course immediately. "Don't waste it, Daddy. Come in my pussy."

"Shit," he grunted, knowing your words were going to throw him over the edge. He moved quickly, bracing one hand next to your shoulder, easing his body lower on yours, and thrusting himself deep in one go. You squealed and squeezed your tits as he fucked your wet pussy with two more strokes, and then he was coming right where you wanted.

You propped yourself up on your elbows. "Good job."

Slowly, he withdrew himself, and watched his cum seep out of your hole. "I'm sure you're really proud of yourself," he whispered, gently easing your legs together and covering you up again. 

"I am," you whispered, rolling onto your side, full of the mess he made. He kissed your bare shoulder and the top of your back as you sighed. 

"I'm going to feed Skittles, and then I'll go pick up Noah from Penny's. You just relax."

He only got a nod in response, and soon you were sleeping again. With Skittles on his heels the whole time, Bradley got dressed and made his way to the kitchen. "Okay, relax," he told the pup, scooping her up into his big hand so she didn't have to walk across the patio stones to get to the grass when he opened the back door. She licked his face before he set her down, and then she followed him back inside, plopping down near the refrigerator as he turned on the coffee maker. "Spoiled," he mumbled, cutting up another meatball while his coffee brewed, and he dumped it into her bowl. 

He was hungry, but he wasn't going to wake you up again. Not after the night you let him have. He grunted as he poured his creamer into his Aviation is for the Birds mug and got a bowl down for some cereal. The air show was coming up on Saturday, and he was going to need to get himself ready for that. Before he forgot, he ordered a pair of headphones to protect Noah's ears along with some earplugs for you. 

"She thinks I can't use a smartphone," he mumbled to Skittles as she finished her breakfast. Bradley poured a second bowl of cereal and set a few calendar reminders with a smile, and then he finished his food and cleaned up the kitchen. When he peeked in the bedroom, only your head was visible above the bundled up blankets. He grabbed his wallet and keys and made his way out to get Noah.

When Bradley drove past your little rental house, he saw that your idiot landlord must have had a new tenant now. It was strange to see a different car there. It felt like years since he'd been inside with you and Noah, eating spaghetti and falling in love. When he pulled up to Penny's, he parked and headed to the front door. Loud music was playing, and after he knocked, he tried the knob and opened the door a bit. 

Penny, Amelia and Noah were having a dance party in the front room, so he let himself inside. When Noah saw him, he burst into tears. "I don't want to go home!"

Bradley couldn't help but laugh as Penny turned the music down. "This is the first time he's cried," she promised, scooping him up. "Are you just upset because we were having so much fun?" Noah nodded, and she added, "You can come back another day, I promise."

Amelia gave Noah a kiss on the cheek, and then she walked past Bradley and gave him a high five. "If you need me to babysit, let me know. I'm trying to save money before college starts in a year."

"Actually, I could use your help on Friday," he told her, and she paused on her way into the kitchen.

"What time?"

"Five?"

"Sure," she replied, taking out her phone.

"And one more thing," Bradley told her as he took Noah from Penny's arms. "I'm going to need you to go to a local college, because I don't have the energy to look for a third new babysitter."

She kind of smirked, and Bradley was reminded of the way you had tried to hide your lipstick marks on his white pants from her. Then Noah wrapped his arms around his neck and whined. "I want to stay here."

Bradley kissed his son's forehead and said, "But Mommy's at home, and she wants to see you."

"Okay," he mumbled. Honestly, he just looked tired. He'd had a long day at the beach followed by a fun sleepover. "Thanks, Penny."

"Anytime," she replied, stroking Noah's curls and waving as they walked out to the Bronco. 

"Should we stop and get some coffee for Mommy on the way home?" Bradley asked as he pulled away. 

"Yeah," he replied. "She likes it."

"She does," Bradley agreed. "And we like to make her happy." He grinned and had to adjust himself in his jeans as he thought about you all worn out and smiley in bed. Maybe you'd be in the mood for it nice and slow later. How he was possibly still ready for another round was shocking to him. 

At the coffee shop, the baristas all made a fuss over Noah, and Bradley let him put some cash in the tip cup. Then he borrowed a sharpie and wrote Princess on your cup and took it home to you. He and Noah found you in the kitchen making sandwiches for lunch, and you immediately stopped what you were doing to pick Noah up. 

"Did you have fun?" you asked, kissing him all over his face.

"We danced," he told you as Bradley set your coffee down. "And I learned a song called Shake Your Groove Thing."

"A classic," you replied with a laugh. "I'll add it to our playlist. I made you lunch." You deposited Noah in his seat, and Bradley watched you set the sandwich that had been cut up into smaller pieces in front of him. Once he started eating, Bradley backed you up against the counter. 

"I don't know what the hell you did to me," he whispered, kissing your ear. "But I'm really looking forward to Noah's bedtime tonight."

You picked up your coffee and took a sip, pressing yourself against the fly of his jeans. "This is really good today. Did you flirt with a barista?" you asked, ignoring his words as your fingers stroked his zipper. 

He grunted. "I told them my Princess only gets treated to the finest things," he whispered as he pressed himself to your palm before walking away to let Skittles outside again. He smiled as you laughed. "Oh, and I got Amelia secured for Friday night, so you and I can go on the hospital tour before the air show on Saturday."

You were all smiles as you said, "I should order some noise canceling headphones for Noah."

Bradley smirked. "I already did."

"Wow, Daddy! Did you use your phone all by yourself?"

"I knew you were going to say that."

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

Bradley slept like a log after he checked to make sure the engagement ring was still secure and then fucked you for a full hour. You were already tired. He knew you were, but he couldn't help himself. It was mostly just you and him having a sweet conversation while he was inside you. He held you in his arms and kissed you. The gentle roll of your hips kept him close to the edge for a long time, but he was able to hold himself off while you enjoyed two orgasms.

When he woke up for work on Monday, he got Noah ready and started getting cereal and fruit out for breakfast while you showered and dressed in your scrubs. "I need a day off," you mused when you walked into the kitchen.

"From work?" Bradley asked, frowning at you as he started up the coffee maker. 

"No," you said, kissing the top of Noah's head. "From you. Don't even ask later tonight."

Bradley was still smiling when he got to work after dropping Noah off. He sent you a dirty text that you'd probably see on your lunch break when he walked into the hangar. That's where he saw Nat with her hands on her hips talking to Javy, and Bradley could tell she was trying not to smile at him. They needed to make things official or stop fucking around once and for all. 

"Morning, Rooster," she called out without even looking at him.

"Did the two of you spend the whole weekend together?" he asked, earning two middle fingers from Nat and a very bashful look from Javy. He would take that as a yes.

As soon as Maverick called him to his Super Hornet, Bradley's phone started ringing. First Bank of San Diego. He ignored the call. It was probably spam since he didn't even have an account with them. As soon as he put the phone back in his pocket, it started ringing again. 

"What the fuck?" he muttered, ignoring the call a second time as he got his helmet on and made his way across the tarmac. He didn't have time to think about it at the moment as now both Maverick and Cyclone were watching him. He'd finally got himself back in Admiral Simpson's good graces, and he didn't want to fuck that up again.

He climbed the ladder up to his jet and silenced his phone to keep out the distractions. He flew with Nat who was extra aggressive, probably because he'd called her out about Javy which just made him laugh. When he checked his phone in the afternoon, he had nine missed calls, two of which were from Tracy's office. He called her back immediately, and when her receptionist answered, he put Bradley's call right through as an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

"Do you have a few minutes to talk?" she asked, and Bradley glanced around to find what seemed like every damn admiral on base out on the tarmac today.

"Not really, Tracy. What's going on?"

She sighed. "Can you stop by on your way home from work?" The way she answered his question with another question had him panicking.

"Is this about Meredith?" 

"Yes."

"Fuck! Yes, I can stop by on my way home."

Bradley's heart was pounding as he sent you a text essentially begging you to pick Noah up even though he promised you earlier that he could do it. He knew seeing Casey still grated on your nerves. And maybe he should have told you where he was going and who it was regarding, but he couldn't bring himself to make you worry about Meredith and Tracy right now. He was already doing enough of that for both of you.

Of course, Daddy. I'll pick him up. I love you.

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

Sorry this chapter was so horny. I probably won't change my ways for the next one. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 48

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