#Yes this is loaded with salt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunlightmurdock · 6 months

Text

The Odyssey | 0.9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You arrive in Venice, and reach a breaking point of sorts.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, explicit pictures, smut f receiving, 18+ minors dni, wc: 6.8k

…

His lips are on your neck. Kissing you slowly, his mouth spreading like fever along your throat and down your chest. He’s between your legs. Your thighs bracket his hips, his hands are trailing along your bare legs.

Each time he sucks softly at your throat, you make the same delicious little sound. Barely audible. Just for him. The sweetest little whine, so eager for more. Sweat beads along the valley between your collarbones, chased by the hot muscle of his tongue. It’s not a summer kind of heat.

It’s crackling from the living room still and the smell of wood burning fills his fourth floor apartment. It smells like November.

His shirt and shoes are on the floor and yours is unbuttoned, hanging off your shoulders. His thumbs trail along the joint where your hips meet your legs, then squeeze, pulling you tighter against him.

Your hands trail over his shoulders, skin against skin as your skirt bunches pliantly around your hips. Along the nape of his neck, brushing softly against the trimmed hair at the back of his head. Soft breaths, fanning against his bare throat.

His mouth reaches the space between your breasts and you keen into the feeling, stretching into his touch. Salt on your skin, sweetness from your perfume, the warmth of your mouth. It all feels so real.

But he knows it isn’t. You have never been here, in his bed — back in his home outside of Ithaca. His mind conjured the image without prompt, this perfect scene of you nestled into his sheets, half-dressed like this.

His fingers curl into the sides of your cotton underwear, his mouth sucks softly at the flesh of your breast and your fingers freeze against his skin. Then, they pull back and shove at his shoulders. Panicked, pushing at him like a trapped animal.

“Don’t. Bradley, don’t. Please don’t.”

Bradley wakes up cold in a way that doesn’t reflect the temperature. He packs the room silently, dodging Luke’s morning small talk. He’s the last down to the lobby, the fog in his brain this morning feels like it’s weighing him down.

He collects the room keys and completes the paperwork, then follows his class out to the bus where Pasquale is already helping them load their luggage once again. It’s a beautiful day out. It takes him a second to spot you.

Leaning in through the side door of the bus and wedging a bag under your seat. You’re bent at the waist and wearing white tailored shorts that hug your waist. He almost shivers at the scene his mind had conjured up.

“You okay, Bradley?” Abigail asks, reaching out and resting her fingers against his elbow. “You look kinda lost.”

“I’m fine. Thanks. Everyone hurry up, let’s hit the road already.”

Without a word, he walks past you and enters the passenger side. After your argument last time, you presume that you’ll sit in the back with everyone else again, and he doesn’t stop you.

It’s not a long drive but it takes him twenty minutes to finally glance up at the rear view mirror. You’re sitting behind him, staring out of the window with your headphones on your ears, nodding your head to the beat.

He turns his attention back to the road quickly. Before you have a chance to notice him. He’s dreamt of women before. He’s had dreams that felt real before. He hasn’t ever been left feeling like this before.

Every sexual encounter that Bradley has ever had, the lines have been very clear. It has always been an enthusiastic yes. Even when he lost his virginity on his seventeenth birthday in the back of his mother’s station wagon and Naomi had been out after curfew — she might have been terrified of her father finding out where she was, but she was all over Bradley.

Taking the lead hadn’t ever been a problem, his actions had always been very well received. Bradley isn’t a creep. He respects women, he likes deep conversations, he knows how to handle his emotions most of the time and he’s good in bed.

The dream plagues his mind. Visions of that terrified look in your eye. The sound of your pleading. He’s not sure what his subconscious was trying to teach him. He analyzes it like literature.

You were there. That part makes sense. Especially after yesterday. You’ve been thinking about your feelings for him, it makes sense that his feelings for you would be on his mind.

But you weren’t here. You were in his bed, in New York. You’ve never been there before. He would never let a student come over to his place. But location is the least of his worries.

Your blouse was white. He has seen you in it before, he just can’t place from where. It was unbuttoned all the way. Open down the middle and dangling off of your shoulders. You weren’t wearing a bra. Because he saw you in that nightdress last night, he’s sure. Images of your nipples perked and hard are easy to conjure with how often he has thought of them in the last twenty-four hours.

He hasn’t ever seen you naked, but the image in his head seems right — it had seemed so real. Living, breathing flesh, right there in front of him.

Next comes him reaching under your skirt, curling his fingers around the sides of your underwear. The panic in your voice, the way your body had turned rigid. Like you had been afraid that he just wouldn’t listen when you asked him to stop.

It’s all in his head. He’s sitting here, sweating over a situation that hasn’t even happened, and he’s still stuck on the most important aspect. Why.

It’s not because Bradley is afraid that he wouldn’t stop. There’s no risk of that. He wouldn’t dream of it, the idea makes him sick. Which means that it’s you. Something in him has him scared to death of seeing this situation play out again, and him not waking up this time.

Sex hasn’t ever been a big deal to him. Whether it happened or it didn’t. Where, or when. It didn’t ever matter much. But to you, it clearly does.

Regret. Realization hits him at once. His gaze flickers up to the rear view mirror once more. After reading the letter yesterday. After the evening in your room.

Sex is where this is leading. Kissing. Hanging out in your room alone. It’s where this will lead eventually, and you’re going to wind up regretting it. That’s what he’s afraid of.

He exhales deeply and rests his chin against his palm, turning his face toward the window. It’s selfish to want more. That doesn’t stop him from shifting in his seat, letting his hand slide slowly around the back of his seat.

You flinch as his fingers brush your knee, broken from your daydream. Glancing down, you watch him squeeze the apex of your calf muscle softly, brushing his thumb over your skin once, twice and then withdrawing his hand.

Turning your head, you look to the rear view mirror and find him already watching you. Your lips twitch, almost pulling into a smile. He shoots you a quick wink. Then, you look back out of the window with warm cheeks and a little smirk on your lips.

Finally, Bradley looks back to the notes that he had compiled from Verona, sitting on his lap, and exhales. He can focus.

Venice really isn’t that far. Before he knows it, Pasquale is pulling into a parking space and the doors of the minibus are open. Settling his papers back into their folder, Bradley reaches for the door handle and stops.

In front of him is the woman he spent five years loving. She’s crossing the street with her arm looped through a much older man’s. It takes Bradley a second longer to recognise him.

Andrea Mancini. He was Bradley’s landlord in Sorrento. He’s also a professor of Classics, and a pioneer in his field. Suddenly Natasha being here makes a lot more sense — she’s with the man who introduced them. Andrea always liked her.

She doesn’t notice him, her head thrown back in laughter as the two of them continue across the road and into a cafe.

Three days in Venice. He wonders to himself if, between you and Natasha, he’ll make it that long.

Still, everyone already thinks that something is going on with him after he wandered out to the car like a zombie this morning, he needs to get his shit together. He steps out of the car onto the sidewalk, stretching his neck as he looks around.

His eyes land on you, facing away from him with your film camera plucked from your bag and aimed towards the street ahead. His brows knit together slightly as he watches Abigail approach you. She taps gently on your shoulder and your head whips around to look at her.

“Did you want me to take your picture?”

Tugging his bag from the storage up onto his shoulder, he just watches as your eyes widen in surprise. His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t let himself smile as you dumbly hand her the camera and take a few cautious steps back.

Over Abigail’s shoulder, you catch Bradley watching you and your cheeks burn. A smile tugs at his lips, nodding for you to go ahead. You swallow, tilting your head and smiling at the lens like he isn’t there. You’re so sheepish under his gaze. Finally, he grins across at you, pushing a hand into the front pocket of his blue jeans.

Once the keys are handed out, Bradley gives all of his students free reign of the city — the itinerary doesn’t kick in until tomorrow, they’re free to do as they wish until dinner at eight. Given that Bradley has work to catch up on, you’re left to your own devices too.

On this particular day, the tides are low and the city smells like the ocean. Salty, sure, but not humid and sticky like the family trips down to Charleston you had taken as a child. Narrow alleyways that are smaller than your own wingspan. Bridges upon bridges. Tall, practically ancient buildings with long, arched windows.

You spend your afternoon wandering between cafes and buildings, street markets and cathedrals. It’s a beautiful place and you can already picture how Malcolm will react to your pictures here. It’s late afternoon and you’re between streets when you stumble across a boutique that you hadn’t yet crossed. The only thing that catches your eye is a flash of sleek, dark hair.

Turning your head, you notice Natasha standing at the cash register. Poised, her head is held high and her shoulders squared. She has a polite smile on her face. It’s then that you notice where she is — where you are. Standing outside of a boutique that specializes in bespoke Italian lingerie.

Narrowing your eyes, you watch as the cashier hands her a cute little designer bag with a bow at the top. But, you don’t have time to stare. You walk ahead, directed back to the hotel to change before dinner. Bradley is the first one at the restaurant, with Pasquale sitting at his side.

“Ah! — Natasha!” Pasquale waves, straightening up in his seat with a grin on his face. Bradley damn near gives himself whiplash turning his head. “I ran into her earlier, I invited her to eat with us?”

“You did what?” Bradley gawks.

There she is, standing in a form-fitting red dress, strutting towards him in black heels. Behind her, Bradley spots you standing in the doorway in a cute white geometric wrap dress, your mouth hanging open. Fuck. This entire thing feels like a game of chess. You sit directly opposite him, and Natasha’s sitting directly at your side. Every single move feels dangerous.

“So, Natasha, how do you and Bradley know each other?” Robin asks.

Bradley watches you roll your eyes and knock back a sip of wine. He joins you in your sentiment as Natasha nudges her elbow against his. Natasha’s smile is so effortless, so beautiful.

“We studied together. I introduced Bradley to Classics when he got out of the Navy.” She explains calmly.

“Bradley was in the Navy?” Abigail gasps from the end of the table.

“Yes! Here,” Natasha turns and grabs her bag, pulling it into her lap and starting to dig through it. She still hasn’t said a single word to Bradley directly yet, but the eyes that she’s making across the table at him tell him everything about how she’s expecting this to go. Oddly, Bradley doesn’t feel quite as self-destructive as he normally does when she’s around. She plucks a small photo wallet from her bag and opens it up. “Look.”

There he is. Watching through the grainy photograph is a twenty-year old Bradley. He’s leaning back against a plane, with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a smirk on his face that makes you that little bit more into him. He’s head to toe in his uniform. Younger, sure, with tidier hair, but he looks very much the same. Moustache, muscles, mean look on his face.

Natasha flashes a few pictures from the album, but you’re paying more attention than most. Bradley engages to a polite level, discussing their various study trips with the group as Natasha displays pictures of them. You narrow your eyes, chin propped up on your fist.

She’s careful with her little album. She will happily display any of the pictures in the wallet, but her pinkie finger is tabbed against a page near the back, keeping it from popping open. Hiding something. Lingerie. Photos of him when he was young. Secret pictures.

You’ve had enough.

It’s after you’ve eaten that Natasha is called to the bar by an old friend. Apparently she has a lot of those. You’re left alone, her purse sitting on the seat beside you, wide open.

You swallow softly, glancing up to check that she’s still standing over by the bar, then back at the Polaroid album in her bag. She stopped three pictures early. You’re reaching out before you have the common sense to stop.

The black leather cover folds back far too compliantly and once again you’re met with that grainy picture of Bradley in all green, short sleeves rolled up around his biceps, smiling at the camera around a thin cigarette.

Another quick glance towards the bar, you confirm that Natasha’s still over there. But you fail to check on Bradley. He’s frowning across the table at you, wondering what you’re staring at.

You’re busily flipping through the album. You can’t help the curiosity. You’d seen the magnetism between them up close back in Como.

All of a sudden, your suspicions are confirmed. You’re not looking at photos of historical sites anymore. Tucked away at the back, is first a picture of Natasha laying on her back amidst unmade sheets and pillows. She’s grinning at the camera through her dark eyelashes, wearing nothing but a black silk bra topped with white lace. Bracketing her ribs, are a man’s knees. You know wordlessly that Bradley’s the one behind the camera. Those are his thighs.

Your mouth feels dry, but you turn the page anyway. Bradley watches your eyes widen across the table. You stare at the picture of Natasha’s naked chest. She’s pushed up on her palms this time and her smile is gone, she’s staring right at the camera lens with a dark, sultry gaze. Her breasts are full and round and there’s not a single tan line on them. She still sunbathes topless now.

Bradley leans one elbow on the table and looks around him before drawing just slightly closer to see what’s got your attention. His eyes blow wide open in immediate recognition.

He remembers that exact day, and that brown Polaroid camera. It was a week and a half before Natasha left him.

But it’s too late, you’re already turning to the last page, and Bradley knows exactly what is going to be in that photo slot. He shoots a look over to Natasha at the bar, then back at you. Pasquale’s sitting right next to you. Bradley swings his foot under the table and kicks it into your calf.

You gasp sharply, and not because he just swung his size thirteen Converse tennis bland into your leg. The kick, though, does make you jump enough to drop the small photo album.

Bradley’s chair scrapes across the floor loudly as he ducks down to retrieve it from under the table. You follow him down, it’s closer to you.

Finally, he meets your gaze, under the table cloth in this busy restaurant, his cheeks swelling to a deep blushed red. Adam's apple bobs in his throat. You stare across at him. Lips parted, just blinking. He curls his fingers around the photo album and snatches it from the ground, sitting back upright in his seat.

Numbly, you follow his lead and withdraw from under the table. Not only is everyone now staring directly at you, but Bradley’s staring at something behind you. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut as Natasha moves her purse from her seat and sits down once again.

Bradley shoves the photo album into his pocket.

“You okay, Bradley?” Zoey frowns at his side, glancing between him and you.

“Yeah. Fine.” He answers, clearing his throat and reaching out for his wine glass. You’re barely breathing, watching him gulp back Pinot Grigio like it’s water. Zoey’s attention then turns to you. You just exhale and turn your chin towards the ceiling.

There’s no way that you can bear to look at either Natasha or Bradley now. Or maybe ever again.

Bradley feels the photo album practically burning a hole in his pocket. Natasha shouldn’t have brought these photos. Truthfully, Bradley didn’t even think she still had them. And, of all of the people at this table, you’re probably the last person he would have wanted to see them.

The third picture was of Natasha sitting up in their shared bed, wearing a pair of black silk underwear. Her eyes hooded lustfully, her red lips wrapped around the tip of Bradley’s dick.

Bradley hits the bottom of his wine glass and sets it down on the table, exhaling deeply. Through his burning embarrassment, he feels eyes on him. It’s either you or Natasha and he doesn’t want to look at either one of you just yet.

It feels like it all takes far too long. Everyone’s just having a great time, and Natasha’s got plenty of interesting stories. She was always charismatic.

Bradley’s just staring at the artwork behind your head and wondering if she kept their video tape too. He swallows dryly at the thought. Finally, the bill is settled and the party begins to file out of the restaurant and onto the cobbled street.

The first inhale of cool air is cut short as Bradley feels an arm loop through his. Natasha presses herself against his side and looks up at him, opening her mouth to speak. Bradley isn’t looking at her. He’s watching you watch her.

Swiftly, you press your lips together and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel.

“We should catch a show or something while we’re here.” Natasha says to the group. Bradley threads his arms out of her grasp as she’s met with a round of agreement from his student.

“Let me check that she gets home okay. I’ll meet you at the theatre.”

“We haven’t decided which show we’re seeing.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Bradley’s already waving her off and heading down the dark street after you. The sound of your heels on the cobble gives you away, he’s able to catch up to you quickly.

“Slow down, stop,” Bradley’s fingers curl around your shoulder gently, trying to guide you to a stop. You shrug out of his touch, eyes focused ahead, without faltering in your pace. “Honey — talk to me, look at me.”

Embarrassment surges through you. Thinking of Bradley tonight. Natasha, alone in her expensive penthouse suite. Natasha’s husband must not know why she’s here. She wouldn’t be staying in such luxury if he did. She wouldn’t be if he saw those pictures.

You can picture it now. Thick, heavy curtains and exceptionally soft, white sheets. Your mouth tugs into a small frown at the thought of the king-sized bed in that room.

Bradley’s following behind you still, trying to get your attention, tugging gently at your arm and begging you to stop and talk to him. You’re paying no attention. You just can’t stop thinking about the two of them together.

Bradley’s heavy hand gripping the headboard, his broad shoulders squared in front of it and Natasha under him. Wearing lingerie that her husband paid for, her hands in Bradley’s hair and her deep lipstick smeared on the thick column of his throat.

You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have sex with her tonight. Not when… — fuck, that thought is even more ridiculous than the first. Of course he would. He has before, many times, and there’s no way you would be the one thing to stop him.

Unless. The thought strikes you like lightning, and it seems to be the lightning itself that makes you spring into action. You turn and catch the back of his neck, tugging him down into a stony kiss.

“Don’t sleep with her tonight.” You breathe against his mouth, pressing your chest into his, kissing him again. Bradley’s brows draw together as his hands find your waist. “I’ll do it. I’ll — I’ll let you have sex with me, just don’t go to her.”

“What?” Bradley gawks, his hands holding your hips tight as his eyes search over your face.

You chase his mouth, fingers trailing over the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please.”

He turns his head, feeling you kiss softly at his cheek in an attempt to gain his attention again. He sighs, dropping his hand from your waist and linking his fingers through yours. “Come with me.”

It’s a short walk, through dark streets. He would have never let you walk this distance by yourself. It’s not cold tonight. It’s warm enough outside that you wouldn’t need a jacket. And yet, Bradley can feel your hand trembling against his.

Swallowing dryly, your heartbeat is in your ears as Bradley leads you through the hotel lobby and silently into the elevator. He hits the third floor and it illuminates. You press your lips together, staring at the dark wood on the inside of the doors.

Neither one of you says a thing. You glance briefly down at the way his hand eclipses yours. The way he’s holding on to you. Your heartbeat rattles on, slow now but heavy. Just like your breathing.

The doors open with a ding and Bradley doesn’t hesitate in walking out, his grip on your hand taking you along with him. Trembling from head to toe, you follow him to your hotel room. He turns and stares at you expectantly outside of the door, dropping your hand.

You fumble around in your bag for the key and produce it, handing it silently over to him. Bradley presses it into the lock, twists and then pushes the door open.

“Go ahead.” He tells you.

You glance up at him, finding his face calm and collected. Pressing your teeth into the inside of your bottom lip you step around him and into the hotel room.

It’s cold, and empty. You had left the window open before you had left the room for dinner. Bradley closes the door behind you as you flick the lamp beside the bed on.

“So… how do you want—“

“Stop talking.” Bradley tells you, standing with his back pressed to the door. He inhales deeply and then exhales. Your eyes widen as he pushes away from it and starts towards you. He steps past and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Sit down, and listen to me.”

You stare at him. He shoots a look towards his parted thighs and then back at you, lifting his eyebrows expectantly. You drop your shoulder bag to the floor and let him guide you down against his thigh.

He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off of your face, searching your features for some kind of clarity. He’s feeling out of sorts himself, after the polarity of his day. Waking up with you begging him not to, sitting now with you telling him that he can — but he knows you don’t mean it. You’re terrified that he won’t see right through you.

“I’m sorry that you saw those photos,” Bradley tells you calmly. He leans forwards and presses his lips to your cheek as his palms snake around your middle. He squeezes softly at your waist, resting his chin against your shoulder. “I didn’t know she still had them.”

“I don’t want to talk about Natasha.” You tell him, pulling back to look him in the eye. Your lip trembles as you trail your fingertips along his jaw.

“I told you to listen.” Bradley shakes his head. “I like you. You know that?”

“Stop.” You sigh, dropping your head in shame.

Bradley leans in close and kisses you softly, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “I like you. For a dozen reasons that have nothing to do with whether or not I want to sleep with you. Alright?”

“Bradley. I’m not a little kid, you don’t have to talk to me like I am.” You huff.

Illuminated solely by the soft warm light of the lamp, the irritation that flashes briefly across Bradley’s face is softer tonight than it is in direct sunlight. He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue with you and then closes it again to think on it more.

“I’m not going to fuck you because you’re freaking out over some pictures from like eight years ago. That’s not—“ You scrunch your nose at his choice of words. Bradley shakes his head at you. The second that he leaves this place, he’s Natasha’s.

“I want to.” You rush out, resting both hands against his shoulders.

His mouth twitches as he shakes his head again. When he closes his eyes, you’re back in his apartment in Ithaca. Begging him to stop. He pinches your hips gently. “Honey, no you don’t.”

Your face falls, embarrassment and anger swirling through you as Bradley holds you against him. “What does Natasha have that I don’t?”

“What?”

“That makes you want to have sex with her and not me.”

“Fuck me.” Bradley sighs, letting his head fall forwards to rest against your collarbone. He smiles against the skin of your throat. “That’s not — honey… come on. That’s not true.”

“This isn’t funny.” You remind him, scowling seriously.

“I want you.” He promises, nodding slowly. His palms flex around your soft middle once again, his eyes lowered to study the cute purple, white and yellow geometric wrap dress you’re wearing. “But sex is a big deal to you, and I’m just trying—“

“It’s not.” You tell him. “It’s fine.”

“Fine — can you stop?” Bradley sighs, lifting his head finally to frown at you. “Stop guessing at what I want. I’m not going to sleep with Natasha. I’ll stay here with you all night if that’s what you want.”

Silence falls between the two of you. All that rigidity in your trembling body seems to just melt away. Bradley closes his eyes as you lurch forwards and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He rubs heavy circles along your back, turning his face into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry.” You mumble into the fabric of his shirt. Bradley huffs out a dry chuckle, shaking his head at you. You press your lips to his neck, kissing his pulse point as another, silent apology. Bradley’s hand trails up the length of your spine, into your hair. Another soft kiss, your mouth pressing softly to the warm skin of his neck.

The first two could have been passed off as innocent enough. It’s the third that isn’t. You cup the other side of his neck and press your chest into his, kissing him a third time. This time, you suck tenderly at his throat as you pull away.

Bradley trails his thumb along the nape of your neck, eyes closed as you press against him once again. This kiss is open-mouthed. Your tongue is warm, and wet against his neck, trailing the skin before your lips close around the spot.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He chuckles without opening his eyes, curling his fingers loosely into your hair. He feels your mouth twist into a sheepish smile against his collar. You kiss once more, nothing more than a gentle peck against his pulse point.

“Bradley…” Your palm spans across his chest, stretching up onto the broad plain of his shoulder.

“Hm?” He breathes.

“Can we… Can I… Could I touch you?”

His brows knit together. With you purring in his ear, kissing his neck, sitting there against his thigh, it’s all too tempting to just answer with the first thought that springs to his mind. He’s smarter than that.

“That’s not a good idea.” He decides with a soft shake of his head. You hum in quiet, dejected agreement. Bradley drops his hand to rest against your knee. He promised to stay in here with you all night, and he’s got no clue how he’s going to get through it without making this a thousand times more complicated.

He toys with the hem of your dress under his index and thumb. It’s cute, and summery. He imagines that girls your age probably find it pretty on trend. It’s modest enough, resting an inch or two above your knee.

Bradley looks up and finds you watching him. Studying his face with a pressed look on your face. Your eyes drop down to his hand toying with the hem of your dress, then back up to his face. He watches as you chew awkwardly at the skin of your lip. It’s on the tip of your tongue, you just don’t know how to say it. You’ve been taught that it’s not your turn.

His hand dips swiftly under the hem and curls around the meat of your thigh, just inches from the platonic safety of your knee.

“Are you wet thinking about all this, honey?” Bradley whispers. Your eyes widen slightly and you swear that he hears the thudding of your heart with the way he squeezes tighter at your thigh. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said that. The way your breathing quickens has his mouth going dry. “Can I feel?”

Blinking, it takes a second for your brain to catch up. You nod at him, shuffle your knees apart. Bradley’s slow, his eyes on yours as his fingers slide along the soft skin of your inner thigh. Inch by inch, his eyes steady on yours. The crook of his knuckle is the first thing that touches you, brushing gently against the cotton gusset of your underwear.

“You’re sure?” Bradley asks. Once again, you nod at him. He hooks a finger into the fabric and nudges it slowly to the side. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. His fingertip trails your labia first, then gently dips between your folds. His brows knit together. “Fuck...”

Your eyebrows raise, watching him silently.

Bradley should stop and retreat to the far side of the bed, but he doesn’t. This was already a step too far. Kissing you was a step too far. He doesn’t care.

His finger trails through your excitement cautiously, his eyes studied on the way you’re nipping at your bottom lip. The pad of his fingertip reaches the slight bump of your clitoris and your thighs press together around his hand.

“You want me to stop, baby?”

Suddenly, your mouth doesn’t feel dry at all anymore. Even with the window still wide open, the chill has dissipated around you. Now, it’s just hot. Hot on the nape of your neck and across your chest, and between your legs.

“I don’t know.”

“You just tell me if you do, alright?” Bradley tells you, stroking a hand over your hair, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple. You nod slowly, your lips parting as he presses the pad of his thumb over where his index finger had been just a second ago. His touch is featherlight as he swipes a slow circle around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You’re suddenly very aware of how still you are. Maybe you should be touching him. Or kissing him. Or moving at all. Or just breathing. You inhale deeply beside him and your head rush starts to fade.

His free hand pulls at your waist, shifting the way you’re resting against his thigh as he rubs softly at your clit with the other.

“Oh.” You gasp through your teeth, squirming away from his touch, your growing excitement soaking his fingertips already. “That’s — is it meant to feel like that?”

“Like what?”

“That’s… a lot… is all.” You tell him sheepishly. Bradley nods his head along with you, withdrawing his hand from your underwear. “Wait, I didn’t mean to stop.”

His mouth twitches into a boyish grin as he grips your hips and turns, planting you on your ass on the bed. “I’m not stopping. Not ‘til you tell me to. Just close your eyes.”

You lean back on your palms and close your eyes, feeling him leave the bed. Bradley settles onto his knees, guiding your legs slowly apart. You feel him lift the hem of your dress and set it around your middle. His gaze settles on your plain white, cotton underwear briefly, before flickering back up to your face.

Just as quickly as they had closed, your eyes shoot wide open again and you sit bolt upright. Bradley’s mouth pulls off of your thigh and he smiles, already bracing for what’s coming.

“What are you doing?”

“Sit still,” He muses, kissing your skin softly once more. His mouth is practically watering as he curls his hands around your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the bed. “I just want to see something.”

He watches you frown uncertainly at him, gnawing at your lip so hard that it’ll be sore tomorrow. Bradley hasn’t been with a girl who was a virgin since he lost his own virginity. He swallows, reminding himself to be slow. Really, he wants to tear those cute cotton panties down your legs with his teeth.

Instead, he gently holds on to your ankle and kisses the inside of your knee. You watch him intently. Lips quirking, Bradley drags his lips from your knee to the apex of your thighs, kissing lazily at your warmed skin. The hairs above his lip tickle your thighs and make you fidget under him, hips stuttering into the air.

Both of his large paws come up to pin your hips into the mattress, drawing a shocked gasp from your mouth. His touch softens, loosening his grip slightly. You catch sight of the soft smirk on his lips as he glances up at you.

Helpless, you fist your hands into the bedsheets as he lays soft, tongue-fuelled kisses against your inner thighs. Once again, as the tip of his nose grinds into your clothed pussy, you gasp through your teeth again. He smiles against the fabric, pressing a soft kiss to your pubic bone over the cotton.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Bradley asks, stroking his thumbs in slow circles over your clothed hips.

“Um… okay. This is fine.” You tell the ceiling, uncurling your hands from the sheets in case he can see the way your knuckles were straining.

“You want me to leave your underwear on or take it off?” Bradley asks, pressing another hungry kiss to the top of your clothed core. Your brows draw together slightly, frowning at the ceiling fan.

“Will it still work if you don’t?”

Work. He almost snorts at your choice of words, but now isn’t the time to be laughing at you. “Yeah.”

Proving it will probably work best. He leans forwards, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs further apart. Slowly, like he’s trying not to spook you, Bradley presses his mouth to your body, closes his lips together and sucks your clit through the fabric.

Helpless once again, your body betrays you by jolting against him, seeking something more than he’s giving you. Bradley smiles, flexing his hands around your hips.

There’s a brief moment of quiet. “You can take them off.”

He gives you a moment to decide if you’re certain. Slow, he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe down your clothed folds. Spit-soaked, your white panties stick to your glistening core.

“I want you to.”

Bradley’s meaty hands leave your hips for a moment, trusting you to behave for him. They slide up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing at your skin, tugging you closer against him. Like he just can’t have you any closer. Watching you through hooded eyes, Bradley presses an experimental kiss to your still clothed lips, his own eyes closing as the first taste of you permeates that soaked cotton and dances on his tongue.

“You tell me if you want me to stop. I’ll stop. Alright?” Bradley breathes out, lids heavy with lust as he curls his fingers into the sides of your underwear.

“Don’t. Don’t stop.” You rush out, a little bit too quickly. Bradley swallows as you lift your hips for him to undress you. He rolls the cotton under his fingers, gliding the flimsy garment down your legs. He’s practically salivating, reminding himself to be gentle.

He can be gentle — but he’s done waiting. Another seething gasp pulls through your teeth as Bradley dives forwards, pinning your hips, pressing his lips to your soaked pussy. He licks a slow stripe, purely for his own pleasure, groaning softly as your taste coats his tongue.

The wet muscle of his tongue swirls your entrance, teasing you by nudging the tip just a fraction into you. Heart thundering in your chest and through your ears like a train chugging along a track, steaming towards danger. Instinctively, your thighs aim for each other and clasp around his ears.

Bradley chuckles against you, grabbing at the backs of your thighs and pushing them back against your middle.

He groans, licking deeper. His dick is hard, pressing uncomfortably against his zipper to the point that it’s distracting. He fumbles with his buckle, one handed while his other hand presses your stomach down into the bed.

Even one handed, he has your eyes rolling back into your head and your body trembling with every languid stroke of his talented tongue.

His free hand dips into his jeans, boxers and wraps loosely around his cock. All the while, he’s sucking and kissing at the most sensitive parts of your body like it’s a personal hobby. His tongue trails in every which direction — there seems to be a pattern to it, but you can’t place it. Your head is spinning too fast for any of that.

He slows, groaning eagerly. You’re soaking his mouth, his mustache and his chin. You’re gripping the bedsheets like you’re about to rip a hole in them.

“Bradley, wait, wait wait!” You shriek. Withering under Bradley’s heavy hands, shaking and digging your heels into the mattress.

He relents and you almost curse at him for it. Bradley nips at your thigh, replacing his mouth with his thumb. “Do you actually want me to stop?”

“I don’t know.” You pant out, whimpering.

“Let me make you cum, honey, you’re gonna be just fine.” Bradley’s breath fans out against your sensitive core and makes you jump.

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yeah.” You babble, squeezing your eyes tightly shut, reaching instinctively for his hair. Bradley abandons his own need and grabs your hips with both hands, burying his face between your legs again.

His mouth works feverishly, tightening that coil in your stomach until you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids. Usually, Bradley likes to let his partners ride through their orgasm on his face. Today, he relents. You’ve been brave enough for one day.

“What the hell was that?” You pant out as Bradley kneels on the bed, moving your dress back down to cover you. Wiping off his jaw with his palm, Bradley leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

“That, honey, was your first orgasm.” He should feel so ashamed of himself for breaking his number one rule, making this mistake with a student. But, for you, he would do it a dozen times over.

Blinking, you look down between your body and his. His jeans are unbuckled, unzipped and the tent in his jeans is pressing against your belly button.

“Should I…?”

“No. No, it’ll go away.” Bradley tells you, pressing forwards and kissing your forehead once more. Your eyes flicker again.

“Could… could I see it?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @sugarcoated-lame @kmc1989 @cherrycola27

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you

339 notes · View notes

witchyafterdark · 11 months

Text

— Ominis Gaunt Headcanons; pt. 1

➡️ Images aren't mine; all credits to the artists

I know we have a lot of headcanons about Ominis' sleeping patterns and schedules. There are some who say that it's because he doesn't sleep peacefully when he's back with his family at the Gaunt Manor, or that he doesn't feel safe sleeping continuously throughout the night, and therefore developed insomnia.

While those headcanons can very well be true, I believe that his sleeping habits have something to do with trauma.

One of the ways a person deals with their unprocessed emotional conflict with trauma is to physically "shut down." And yes, I've years of experience with this cause I've had my psychiatrist treat me with this one, too. So I really resonated with Ominis on this one.

In trauma psychology, we have different types of responses and coping mechanisms. While I'm personally not a psychologist or therapist, I've been diagnosed with narcolepsy due to extreme C-PTSD from physical, mental, and emotional abuse. And while not everyone who goes through trauma will develop narcolepsy or sleep related disorders, there's a study that suggests that people who have had childhood trauma are more susceptible to developing sleep disorders.

Without getting extremely scientific about this, I think it's pretty obvious that Ominis finds comfort in sleeping his troubled mind away. If you combine all of the headcanons about Ominis' odd sleeping behavior with this one, I think it also makes sense that this could be the root cause of him just flopping down on the floor and sleep.

This is also why we have "depression naps" where people can just sleep the whole day away to lessen the mental load of all the subconscious trauma that's waiting to be dealt with. It's easier to sleep it away, and I think Ominis has this trauma response from being physically punished and basically abused throughout his childhood.

Not to add salt on the wound but I also noticed that Ominis likes to sit or lay on the floor when there's perfectly comfortable couches beside him. I think... he's got comfortable with the uncomfortable.

Maybe back in the Gaunt Manor, they used to make him sleep on the floor as punishment for not abiding to their family habits and culture. 🥲

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt headcanon #ominis gaunt headcanons #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy headcanons #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x reader

534 notes · View notes

projectcaramel · 11 months

Text

Random Headcanon #2

There's a little interaction difference between you and the brothers and the brothers and their kids.

How he responds to his kid

How he responds to you

---

Lucifer

“Please pass the salt, Dad.”

“Certainly.” And Lucifer hands over the salt to your son/daughter. No fuss.

---

“Please pass the salt, Lucifer.”

“Why don’t you beg me for it?” That damn cocky smirk of his. Evidently, he’s in a mood again.

“...Lucifer, behave yourself.”

Mammon

“Pass the salt, Papa?”

“How much does it mean to ya?” He’s joking with a playful glint in his eyes, but he’s teaching your kid some weird quirks.

“Mammon...” you groan, and he laughs as he passes it over.

---

“Pass the salt, Mammon.”

“Here ya go.” Job done.

Levi

“Wouldst thou passeth the wondrous elixir of life, Father of mine?”

Leviathan groans while passing over the hot sauce.

“Why did I let him/her play Shakespeare’s Conquest...?

---

“Wouldst thou passeth the wondrous elixir of life, Oh Gracious Lord of Shadow?”

Leviathan covers his red face in his arm while you giggle.

“Stop making fun of me, MC! Now I won’t pass anything over!”

Satan

“Can you pass the pepper, Father?”

“I’m capable of passing the pepper, yes.” The idiot is smirking without looking up, and your child is on the edge of throwing a temper tantrum.

“Satan,” you growl warningly, and he hands it over.

“The best way to ask is ‘please pass the pepper, Father.’ by the way.”

---

“Can you give me the pepper, Satan?”

“MC, we’ve been over this a hundred times.”

“Can you give me the pepper, Satan?”

“No, I can’t give you the pepper.”

“Can you give me the pepper, Satan?”

“...” And that’s how you end up in a long staring contest that Satan eventually loses.

Asmo

“Would the most beautiful Papi in world grant the cutest son/daughter the frosting~?

You give Asmo a very long look as he, humming, gives your kid the spoon full of extra cupcake frosting.

“What~? Do you want some frosting too~?”

---

“Asmo, be a dear and pass the frosting,” You say, while he’s in the process of picking it up for himself. “You can enjoy it if you wan—”

“You know I could never say no to you, sweetie pie~ Here.” And then he’s taking a picture and posting it to Devilgram with a such a happy smile that you wonder if you should feel bad.

Beel

“Pops, can I have that?” She/He points to the burger on Beel’s plate.

“Yeah,” is his reply as he happily hands over the entire, completely loaded, triple-decker cheeseburger to a five year-old.

“Are you sure you can eat all th—” It’s already gone, and Beel is happily laughing.

---

“Beel, mind if I eat your pickle?” You point at the spear, and Beel shakes his head.

“Nah. All yours, MC. Can I have your toad eyes?”

And so the great food exchange begins.

Belphie

“Pa.”

“Mn... yeah? Sure.”

You’re left confused as you look between father and son/daughter as Belphie passes the wasabi to the other side of the table.

“Belphie, he/she’s supposed to ask you...”

“That’s a pain.” Guess you’re outnumbered, since they both spoke at the same time.

---

“Belphie, pass the—” He almost smacks you with the wasabi as he sleepily brings his chopsticks over to you. “How did you...?”

“You’re not hard to read.”

“Is that a compliment or...?”

#obey me!#writing #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus!#obey me beel #obey me belphie #parenting

466 notes · View notes

godsstrongestangel · 8 months

Text

ASTRO NOTES - 1

These are notes not observations because yes these are factz onlii 🗿 Take it with a pinch of salt

⚠️TW- sensitive, my cry soft babies 🥺 this is not for u honey just take my virtual hug 🫂 and take care of urself 💗

Capricorn moons are a disgrace to Capricorn community it is because of them the "capricorn sun" is stereotyped as judgemental and close minded for being so rigid when in reality it is true for moons onli the cap suns are the sweetest and most open minded people ever infact they are observational and not judgemental which indicates a higher level of intelligence unlike the cap moons (we get it its in detriment and you got a ton loads of mommy issue but baby whos gonna heal them? 🤡forget being the joker now, past is over)

Same way libra suns are petty and pathetic esp with their manipulative as well as people pleasing behaviors they are disgrace to libra community its other libra placements that represents true beauty and not shallowness or over rationalisation

I have to break it up to you but aquarius venus does not move on that easily infact many times it fails to move on they are just good at hiding it wanna know why? Because it is ruled by saturn daddy that means it is disciplined, determined and focused AND NO THEY ARE NOT CHEATERSSSS!!! Also being ruled by uranus means they will keep on bringing new changes (cant say for good or bad whoops!! ) in the relationship because it is a visionary sign they are probably daydreaming about marriage 🥺🥺 and yall are here throwin misiformation😒💀 PLUS ITSSS A FIXED SIGN WHAT YOU EXPECT FROM A FIXED SIGN SOCIETY?? TO MOVE ON IN THE SNAP OF A FINGER LIKE THANOSSSS BRO??

Now speaking of fixed venuses (aquarius, taurus, scorpio and leo) all of these fixed venus people at least have one lover they can never move on from they might feel they have moved on then suddenly the memories resurface 🏄🏻‍♀️🏄🏻‍♀️ you thought it was over huh?🤺🤺

Whats up with SCORPIO placements having a love for dogs and having a dog pet at least once in their life (esp moon) and then scorpio suns usually hating cats? 🗿 is it because they are willful and wont be manipulated by u? I suggest u seek some psychopath diagnosis this is some serious underdeveloped energy SIS/BRO IT IS UNHEALTHY

Aries and Scorpio mars would love the idea of tearing your clothes while making out or making love 😏💗🥵

Libra moons with air rising should actually consider polyamory

All libra moons are true romantics or should i say hopeless romantics

Cancer suns are pathological liars Its not Gemini yall need to stop giving them fake rep of lying

Leos suns talk a lot and they do not mix well with earth suns even if they try to earth sun will eventually find themselves pissed and drained bcuz of how much they speak and boast they are constantly speaking 😂 (gives headaches in worst case scenario)

Virgo sun and risings really do a lot of stuff and chores despite having phone addiction and even if they are not good in academic or dislike what they are studying they will still be seen suffering with books and notebooks

Venusians suns with leo moon are pretty miserable they are pessimistic and overthinkers it feels like they dont have touch with their emotions at all because they are constantly rationalising emotions to the point they are repulsive to deep feelers and feels almost inhumane 😬like you would not like forming deep connections with them because you will realise they lack emotional capabilities to connect with they sometimes can even make you loathe them or very annoyed its like you are dealing with someone who doesnt make sense at all as if their brain is underdeveloped or something you just dont wanna deal with them

Scorpio placements are not loyal

Sagittarius placements and doms laugh a lot 😂

All capricorn suns and virgo risings are skinny or petite

Aquarius suns do love posting on social media a lot and they do care about ur instagram 💀

Air venus can easily stay loyal with online relationships infact they are all loyal idk where the stereotypes are stemming from

#astronotes #astrology observations #astrologyobservations #astrology #capricornsun #libramoon #leosuns #leo #air venus

332 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 6 months

Text

Nessian x reader

A/n: This is my first commission piece! I'm so happy with how this turned out. Thank you @dreamlandreader I'm so happy you like it 😊

Word Count: 3,223 words

Warnings: Angst, self doubt, fluff

Joining the Night Court as an emissary for the Winter Court has been a dream come true. Besides your home, Winter was your favorite place in all of Prythian. Their politics and history fascinated you, making you work your ass off in school so you could be the best of the best at court relations.

Feyre and Mor had been the ones that found you. Originally you were working for the governor of the Palace of Bone and Salt. The fact that you were being under utilized made Feyre pay you a visit, delivering a much better job offer.

Since you started you finally got your own apartment in a nicer part of the city, and you have been much happier going to work. Yes, it’s a bigger work load but you love keeping busy.

You also adored the Inner Circle. The High Lord and his family embraced you, not hesitating to treat you as one of their own. Especially Nesta.

The two of you clicked right away, becoming instant best friends. And of course she’s a package deal with Cassian.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to them as the months went on. Nesta had invited you to train with the Valkyries after working for the court for only two weeks, where you became very close. The small touches as she adjusted your stance mixed with Cassian’s praise never failed to make your face heat. It was odd, having a crush on a mated couple.

Finally, after a year of casual hangouts and staying late at the House of Wind enjoying their company, Nesta asked you out to dinner. “Nothing super fancy, unless you want fancy then we can go somewhere really nice or we can-” You cut off Nesta’s rambling by taking her hands in yours. “Anywhere you want to go, I’ll be happy Nes.”

Her smile brightened after that. Before leaving you to go make plans she bent down and softly kissed your cheek, whispering, “Until tonight.”

Seven o’clock came faster than you anticipated. Nesta knocked on your bedroom door just as you were putting the last clip in your hair. Opening the door you found a radiant looking Nesta. She was wearing a beautiful long black velvet gown. A slit up the skirt that showed off her toned thigh and a wide strap that hung off her shoulder.

“Wow,” You gasped out. You swear you saw Nesta blush as she quickly looked down. As she looks back at you her eyes roam your body. Drinking in every single one of your features. “You look stunning.” She whispers out, holding her arm out for you to link with hers. Taking it with a wide smile, she leads you down the hall and out your apartment.

Once you’re taken to your spot in the middle of the restaraunt Nesta pulls out your chair for you, pushing you close to the linen covered table. “Thank you.” You said sweetly, smiling up at her. She leans down to place a kiss on your forehead before taking her own seat. The kiss made your cheeks turn pink. It felt different than the one Nesta placed on your cheek earlier today. You could tell this one was meant to be felt. To be full of warmth and convey care.

Three courses and a very expensive bottle of wine later, you and Nesta were full and giggly. As your laughter died down she braced her forearms on the table, leaning closer to you. A giddy smile pulling at your lips you copy her. Your noses almost touching. “I have something to confess.” Nesta says coyly. You tilt your head at her unusual tone. “What is it Nes?”

Your heart was racing. Hoping for a confession of love from her. It was so wrong of you to hope that. Cassian was your friend too. You didn’t want to drive a wedge between them or the rest of the Inner Circle. At the same time you were wishing for Cassian as well. Wishing it was the both of them confessing their love for you. But he isn’t here, Nesta is. Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you thought.

You thought you were close with him. You shared jokes, would be board game partners, and even dragged him shopping with you. Cass pretended to hate it but liked spending time with you. Or so you thought.

“Meeting you has been an unexpected joy y/n. Getting to know you, having fun with you, and spending with you has just…I can’t think of a word to describe it, there isn’t one perfect enough.” You felt tears forming behind your eyes as a lump settled in your throat. No one had ever been this happy being with you. Not even your last boyfriend treated you with such kindness.

“I’m so happy I met you too Nesta. You and Cass and the rest of the family have been so kind to me.” Nesta closes the distance between your hands, lightly playing with your fingers. She looked hesitant to speak again. “I want to be honest with you, y/n. Cassian and I care about you. Not in a just friends way…”

Your eyes widen in shock and hope.You open your mouth to speak but the words get caught in your throat. “I-I care, I feel the same way.” Nesta lets out a happy sigh of relief and visibly deflates back into her chair while staying attached to you.

“We want you y/n. If you’ll have us.” You nod vigorously. “Yes. Yes, I really do.” You can’t stop smiling at her the whole walk home. Nesta holds your hand as you swing them back and forth.

Finally back at your apartment door, you frown a little, not wanting this sweet evening with Nesta to end. Looking between your new girlfriend and your door you let out a sigh. “Tomorrow morning Cass and I want you to come over for breakfast. We can talk more about things.” Nesta brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, coming down to lightly trace your jaw. You nod, giving her a small, “ok.”

Unlocking your door you turn back to face Nesta. Looking up at her your eyes land on her full lips. “Nes?” “Yeah baby?” Pink slightly tints your cheeks at the pet name. “Can I kiss you?” Your voice barley above a whisper.

Nesta smiles and brings her hands up to cup your face. They feel soft against your skin. Leaning up to meet her you feel a spark as your lips touch. Your mouths move against each other in an elegant dance. The kiss full of warmth like the one she placed on your forehead earlier that night. For the first time in a long time, you feel genuine love flood your body. She’s holding you like you’re going to slip away and she won’t let that happen.

Your hands find home on her hips, pulling Nesta closer to you. In that moment, you decided you wanted to feel this love for the rest of your immortal life. And if you felt this way with just Nesta, how would you feel when Cassian started showing you love?

Would he though? He didn’t come to dinner tonight.

The kiss slowed until you two were just resting your lips against each other. Your breaths heavy as you pulled apart. “Goodnight baby.” Nesta gave you one last parting kiss before leaving you.

The next morning you donned an adorable cherry pink dress, practically skipping through Velaris on your way to the House of Wind. As you approached the outskirts of Nesta and Cassian’s home you spotted him waiting for you as he always did.

Cassian was wearing a wide grin as you approached. He scooped you up into his strong arms, spinning you around. Pulling back to look in your eyes, he held you firmly. “Hi sweetheart.” “Hi Cass.” you say sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck to prepare for the flight up.

Cassian softly took off from the old cobblestone street, the beating of his leathery wings soothing your nerves as he climbed higher and higher.

Landing on the balcony of the living room he gently sets you down, grasping your hand. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks casually, leading you towards the informal dining room. “Fine. I had some excitement keeping me up.” He lets out a breathy chuckle and kisses the top of your head. “I can only imagine.”

As you walked with him you couldn’t help the tight feeling forming in your chest. Over thinking, like you partially did last night, as you wondered if Cassian really wanted you with them.

You couldn’t help it. You knew Cassian loved you as a friend, but his love for Nesta is like nothing you have ever seen before. You didn’t know if he would like bringing another person into their mated relationship. It took Cassian so long to win Nesta’s trust and heart. Would he want to let another share that?

Entering the kitchen you saw Nesta laying out plates of food on the table. Muffins, croissants, fruit, breakfast meats, and pancakes. Cassian pulls your chair out for you, like Nesta did last night. He pushes you in and takes the seat next to you.

Nesta sits across from you with a sweet smile on her lips. “Hi baby,” she takes your hand, bringing it to her lips. “Please dig in.”

Scooping food onto your plate the three of you fall into easy conversation. After a while you fall into a lull, unsure what to talk about besides the obvious.

Clearing your throat, you decide to start. “So…Nesta and I talked last night.” The pair perked up, making slight eye contact. “And I want to be with you guys.” They let out a sigh of relief and Cassin rested an arm on the back of your chair, smiling down at you. “But, I have a few questions.” Nesta nods. “Ask whatever you want, we’ll answer it.”

You turn to Cassian, a small pout on your lips and a sliver of worry in your eye. “Why didn’t you come to dinner last night?” He lets out a shaky sigh. Like he’s nervous to say anything to you. “We thought if it was just one of us, you’d be less intimidated by the thought of a relationship.” You slowly nod, letting his response seep in. “And you don’t mind this Cass? I don’t want to be a burden or cause problems for the two of you. I just-” Cassian tilts your face up by your chin with two of his thick fingers. A doting look on his features.

“Sweetheart. You have nothing to worry your pretty little head about. Rest assured, we both want you as much as you want us.” His thumb rubs against your chin. You felt relief knowing your anxiety was all for nothing.

…

Weeks have passed since your relationship started with Cassian and Nesta. It started out…chaotic to say the least. The three of you wanted time together but work picked up for all three of you. It was a busy time of year with the holidays right around the corner.

It also didn’t help that Cassian was away in Windhaven for a few days every week. It had just been you and Nesta at your apartment or the Town House.

Cassian being away made that doubt about how much they actually wanted you creep in again. You love your time with Nesta but you craved time with both of them. To just sit with them and bask in their attention. Maybe it was a mistake being with a mated couple.

On the last night of Cassian being away Nesta slept over at your apartment. You opted to sleep on your side rather than in the middle of the bed cuddled up with her like you usually would. You were too tense, lost in your thoughts and didn’t want Nesta to worry. Though she probably sensed it.

As Nesta laid down you curled in on yourself, trying to get further from her. This didn’t go unnoticed as she huffed at your movement. Sitting up, Nesta turns the lamp on on the bedside table, the dim yellow light illuminating her profile. She grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face her.

“Talk to me y/n.” Nesta pleaded with you. Taking a deep breath, you sit up, bringing your knees to your chest. Nesta rests a comforting hand on your arm, her thumb rubbing small circles on your skin. Worry glinting in her steel-blue eyes. You lay a hand over hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Does Cassian like me?” Her face contorts into confusion. “Baby of course he does, he loves you. Why wouldn’t he?” You shrug, unable to meet her gaze in fear of bursting out into tears. “I just-I feel like he doesn’t want to spend time with me. I know work has been crazy but there’s a part of me that doubts…everything.”

When you look up at Nesta a single tear falls down her cheek. She shuffled closer to you, throwing her arms around your neck, pulling you flush to her chest. A few tears escape your own eyes. “I’m sorry baby. I’ll talk to him or we can all talk when he gets home.” You nod against her.

Cassian arrived home late the next afternoon. Wearing that wide goofy grin on his face as he came through the door of the Town House, embracing you both.

Back at the House of Wind later that night, you and Nesta lounge in the living room as Cassian makes dinner in the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table together Cassian tells you about his trip to Windhaven. It takes all of you not to interrupt him and blurt out, ‘DO YOU LOVE ME!’ But you hold your tongue as you push your vegetables around your plate. You don’t have much of an appetite anyways.

Cassian’s booming laugh pulls you from your thoughts. Out of the corner of your eye you see Nesta quickly glance at you. Looking up at Cassian you give him a small smile that he returns. “Sweetheart, I was wondering if you wanted to go out, just me and you.” You sit up straighter, surprise taking over your features. “Really?”

“Yes,” He laughed out, “Nes gets you all the time and I want you to myself for a bit.” You look to Nesta, as if asking for permission. She gives you an encouraging nod. “Ok. Can we go out tomorrow night?” “Absolutley.” Cassian brings a hand to the back of your head, placing a chaste kiss on your head.

Nesta helps you get ready for date night. Finishing up your make-up she lets out a dreamy sigh, “You look so pretty y/n/n.” She moves behind you to make sure your hair is perfect. “I’m excited to have the house to myself. Not that I don’t love having you two around but sometimes I just want to get lost in my book.” She giggles to help lighten the mood, making you giggle too. Nesta meets your y/e/c eyes in the mirror. She gives you a loving smile, draping your hair over your shoulders. “Ready?” “Uh-huh.”

Heading down the grand staircase you see Cassian waiting for you at the bottom with a bouquet of your favorite pink roses. Cassian watches you with a love sick grin as descend the last few steps. “You look stunning.” A slight blush dusts your cheeks as you look up at him. Cassian hands you the bouquet. You sniff them, taking in their sweet scent before placing them in the vase on the entry way the table the house put out for you.

You were surprised that you weren’t nervous during dinner. You and Cassian had fun joking and flirting like normal. He was extra touchy with you, never letting go of your hand an dpractically pulling you onto his lap at times. Cassian made sure he gave you his undivided attention throughout dinner.

Hand-in-hand, you take a walk along the Sidra, admiring the stars. “Lets sit for a minute sweetheart.” Cassian places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the nearest stone bench. Sitting, Cassian holds your hands in his lap.

“I wanted to talk about us.” You swallowed nervously at his words. “Nesta talked to me. And I’m sorry that you’ve kept that pent up for so long. I love you very much y/n. I’m so sorry if I haven’t shown you that. I promise that I will show you how much I love you for the rest of our lives.”

You grip his hands tighter in yours. Letting their warmth seep into you. Cassian’s hands are rough and battle worn. Yet so gentle with you, like Nesta’s. You feel safe with him. From the look in his eyes you know he meant every word. That it pained him you didn’t feel loved by him.

“I love you too Cassian.” You leaned your head against his shoulder. The two of you sat like that for a while, watching the stars shimmer.

…

It’s been almost a year since you started dating Nesta and Cassian and you couldn’t be happier. The three of you fell into a comfortabel routine. You always made time for each other, had regular date nights, and made sure time with family was balanced out as well as one-on-one time. And thanks to Nesta and Cassian’s endless begging you broke and moved into the House of Wind.

You placed down the last snack bowls, stepping back you admire the setup. Tonight was a night for just the three of you. It was rare you all got to relax and you were happy to see them let their guard down. To put away the mask of the General and Valkyrie.

You hung small fae lights, laid out extra blankets and pillows, set out snacks, and everything you will need for face masks. The front door shut as Cassian and Nesta’s voices floated up to you from the entry way. Approaching the living room they paused in the archway.

“Do you like it?” You ask, clasping your hands under your chin. Nesta rushed over to you, pulling you into a crushing hug. “It’s perfect.” She mumbled into your hair. You relax into her as Nesta hugs you tighter than you thought possible. “Missed you today.” “I missed you too Nesa.”

She broke away, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll be back, I’m going to change. Are you coming with me Cass?” You both look to him. Cassian is casually leaned against the door frame as he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m just going to chill in my underwear.” Before the two of you can protest he strips in the middle of the living room. “Will you take my leathers to our room?” He asks with a shit eating grin.

Nesta rolls her eyes at him, playfully slapping his shoulder. “Fine. But don’t start without me.” she calls over her shoulder. Cassian rushes at you picking you up, and flopping on the couch with you against his chest. You giggle and snuggle into his muscular chest. “Missed you today sweetheart.” “Missed you too Cass.”

219 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 1 year

Note

can you make a fluffy klaus imagine where he takes reader on a shopping trip to designer stores and spoils her and the reader sheepishly tells him that he doesnt have to do so much which makes him spoil her more thx

I enjoy spoiling you

Klaus has been encouraging me to pick out as many different outfits as possible. Since we had been together he was nothing but eager to throw his money at me but I wasn’t exactly used to this kind of spending and the price tags were making me feel sick.

I nervously checked how much the little sundress that had caught my eye was. My lips parted in surprise, i could get the exact same looking dress for £12 in a different shop. I quickly walked away back to Klaus, his arm circling me instantly and pulling me close

“Did you find something you like?” He asked softly with a smile and i shook my head timidly

“I don’t think i need anything else, we’ve already gotten loads” i told him glancing at the man who was carrying our things, apparently it was his job and Klaus would be paying him

“Sweetheart you’ve barely chosen anything, remember you can pick anything you like, formal, casual, you can get some pyjamas too?” His voice was encouraging and i felt silly, like a child. He must’ve noticed my frown as he took my face in his hands

“I want you to be happy and comfortable love, i enjoy spoiling you, i never know what to spend my money on, let me buy you something to make you smile” he kissed my lips gently before pulling away and petting my hair

“Klaus, i like that you want me to be happy but i can be comfy in much cheaper clothes- even if it’s just a but cheaper! But please don’t spend a ridiculous amount on a summer dress” I practically begged and he glanced over my shoulder

“That one over there?” He asked and I followed his eye line and nodded reluctantly. Straight away i was being pulled to where it was, his arm around my waist nearly dragging me as I protested that i didn’t want it. He checked the price and picked it up passing it to the man for the ‘buying’ pile

“Klaus-“

“Hush love let me” he muttered and kissed me again to silence me

“But-“

“You’ll look gorgeous in your new outfits” he whispered

“Can we go home now?” I asked shyly

“Without accessories? Of course not love, Rebekah may scream. Now tell me would you rather be shopping with me or my sister?” I blinked at him for a second. Rebekah would have me trying everything on and buying the entire shop

“You…” I uttered and he nodded

“Exactly, now come we have many other shops in this area, we can drive anywhere you’d like” his eyes were hopeful and i nodded slowly

“Okay but this can’t be a regular thing” he grinned like the cheshire cat and hurried me to the till

“Special occasions- an average Tuesday whatever you like, for today just see what you like and you can have it”

I found myself smiling at him as he brought me to the many jewellery shops, i managed to convince him to try on a range of brightly coloured necklaces- tiaras and such. Eventually we got home and i collapsed on his bed with a groan

“My feet hurt” I muttered and he breathed a laugh as he slid my shoes off for me

“How about we try the new bath salts we bought? Then you can get into your fluffy clothes” he lifted me up as he dug through one of the bags to grab the salts

“We didn’t buy anything, it was all you” I reminded

“My money is your money now my love, that is why you have this-“ he tucked a black card into my hand and i gaped up at him, still held bridal style in his arms

“No-“

“Yes”

“But-“

“But yes”

“What if-“

“Just say yes” he breathed with a toothy grin

“I’ll just say okay and slip it back to you later” i mumbled and he growled in his throat

“I can be very creative in ways i get you to accept this” he whispered to my ear and a shiver ran down my spine

“Is that a threat?” I asked and he hummed

“Don’t worry love, it’s one you will most certainly enjoy”

(Wish he would shower me in money ngl)

756 notes · View notes

skinbeneaththeskull · 8 months

Note

hi, luv! (if people notice me, no you don’t i’m everywhere) can you write sucking off load era kirk, i was watching the 1997 live in salt lake city and i’m quaking!! 🥲 thank you, sweets! <3

uhhhm.... YES!! because just look how FINE this man is in this era with his piercing and everything.. RAAAAHHHH!!!!!!! (i need him & '96 Jason too bad 💔) this man was such a menace too oh good lord 🙏

honestly, sucking this man off ESPECIALLY in this era would be SUCH a fucking DREAM im telllinggggg you. this man could literally fuck you silly just by a blow job it's crazy.

at first he'd be a little slow, just making sure you can handle yourself and then he'd be like, "good job, princess.. taking all of it like a good girl," while taking a second to catch his breath before shoving you all the way down on him, hand in your hair so hard he's making knots and his left on your throat, feeling his dick poke out.

everytime you bob your head down if you close your eyes, he'll give you two light slaps (basically taps) on your cheek saying, "cmon, gotta look at me, baby." and "yeah, right there.. atta girl.." when you look up and start making eye contact again. he'll start to get comfortable again and lean his head back, groaning, letting the rumbles come out of his throat.

when you start to finally slow down and use your hands on him more, he just looks down at you, head tipped to the side as he softly caresses your cheek.

"gettin' tired already, baby?"

"let me help,"

he'd smile all genuine before putting both hands on your head and starts fucking your mouth like it's a different hole. he's in balls deep as you can barely take it, gagging around him as drool seeps out of your mouth, lubricating his dick even more mixing with his precum.

the vibration from your moans are enough to make him finish and end his high, he's pretty much just getting off at the sight of you now. you try to steady yourself by putting your hands on his thighs but he's already done before you can get another breath in.

yanking your head back, he jerks himself off for a second before painting your face with himself. it's going in all different directions while he's giving you slight whines and grunts with his head tipped back.

his hips jerk up for a moment before he looks back at you, giving a cocky smile, "hah.. shit- looks like you had a fun time, heh?" and "thank you baby, fuck you were so good," he'd grin and kiss you on the lips softly before getting up to go get a wash cloth to clean you up.

#metallica #kirk hammett #kirk x reader #kirk hammett x reader #kirk smut #kirk hammett smut #90s

209 notes · View notes

sunkissedchldrecon · 9 months

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒕

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the sandwich, pile two is the strawberries and whip cream, and so on and so forth.

this PAC is intended for when you want to eat but don't know what you should make or order. you probably shouldn't use this daily, but if you want to: be my guest!

take your time to use your intuition to choose the pile that will best resonate with you. lastly, please don’t be afraid to say if the message resonated or not. it helps me in determining if my interpretations are correct or not, and i appreciate any sort of feedback - even if it’s “bad”.

good luck to you, reader 🍓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Chocolate Legs" by Eric Benet

"One Last Time" from Hamilton the Musical

"Victory Song" by Stray Kids

Cards:

Ace of Minuta, Judgement (Rx), The High Priestess, Queen of Lunga (Rx)

Reading:

For those who chose this pile, there's an emphasis on cooking at home and being spontaneous! Something organic, grown in your backyard, or very heavily focused on home cooking would be good to eat right now. Try not being so focused on following a recipe perfectly; don't be afraid to make mistakes or to do things out of order - that's the joy of cooking. Trust your intuition to guide you while cooking!

stelline pasta

mexican food

tteokbokki with rose water

salt & pepper

"sweet indulgence"

sweets in general, or as a base flavor

spicy as a secondary flavor

homemade/homegrown

family recipe

tomato

fruit

corn

hot, fire

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"god is a woman (live)" by Ariana Grande

"U Remind Me" by Usher

"Run" by Otis Kane

Cards:

The Emperor (Rx), King of Minuta, Seven of Minuta, Three of Ripiena, Page of Lunga

Reading:

Pile two, you may want to eat something that's a little messy and "heavy". There's an emphasis on indulgence and eating a little more than you might usually. You should eat something that's quick to make or to pick up yet that leaves you full and satisfied. You might even make it an event and invite family or friends over to eat with you! Overall there's an emphasis on speed and/or actually feeling full.

(red) wine

champagne

orzo pasta

lasagna

seafood boil

ramen

loaded nachos

casserole

heavy sauce (ie. pasta, alfredo, dressing, etc.)

soul/southern food

heavy and indulgent

layered

"something that fills you up" - not a snack

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Speed of Love" by Kelly Rowland

"Little People" by Todrick Hall

"Finesse (Remix)" by Bruno Mars (feat. Cardi B)

Cards:

Nine of Minuta, Two of Lunga, Four of Ripiena, Four of Lunga

Reading:

If you chose this pile, there's an emphasis on food that takes time to cook, receive, or eat. If you feel like eating out, you should eat something that's rich and savory - you might even order the most expensive thing on the menu. You might even eat two entrees or dishes! A new take on a comfort food might also be a good option.

spaghetti

barbecue (specifically smoked or heavily marinated)

steak

brisket

chicken adobo

tex-mex

fusion cuisine

savory as a primary flavor

comfort food

soul/southern food

double entrée

expensive - in amount of food or in actual price

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Dangerous" by YG & Mozzy (feat. G Herbo)

"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" by Pentatonix

"Bang Bang" by Jessie J, Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj

Cards:

Eight of Minuta (Rx), Nine of Corta (Rx), Ace of Minuta, Three of Corta

Reading:

This is my fast food pile! If you're craving something from a drive-thru or something that's typically labeled as "bad" for you, go ahead and get it! I also intuitively heard the "girl dinner" song, so I'm also getting you might eat food that's considered more of a snack or a bunch of snacks if you want. Either way, something you can make quickly or take on-the-go would be good.

fast food/drive-thru food

microwavable food

mcdonalds

chicken nuggets

panda express

snack food

chips

popcorn

trail mix

charcuterie board

lunchables

food tray

#Spotify #tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #tarotblr

191 notes · View notes

topguncortez · 1 year

Text

What to Expect | Chapter 12

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: It's your baby shower, and what is a baby shower without an unexpected guest (or two) showing up.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: pregnancy, cursing, canon character death, injuries, topgun shit, fighting, questions of paternity, unrequited love and some yearning

It was two days after Jake’s phone call with his dad that he and Bradley had gotten released. You had told Jake that the two of you had reconciled, and he was happy for the both of you. He wouldn’t admit it outloud, but he could see how miserable the two of you were without one another. Jake had agreed to picking Bradley up from the hospital while you cleaned up his apartment for him to come home. Bradley might be in his thirties, but he still liked to live as if he was a freshman in college. His freezer had nothing but frozen pizzas and chicken nuggets in it. You went grocery shopping, cleaned his apartment, and put clean sheets on his bed.

Jake wouldn’t tell you much about what had happened with his dad. From what you knew, Jake’s middle sister Anna (or Annie as everyone calls her) had told Jake’s mother Margaret about the photo on your snapchat. Margaret then, as Jake said “in a state of shock” told her husband George, who became furious. George was partially mad because he had just gotten done splitting up the will and trust to accommodate Annie and Charlotte's kids, and because you and Jake were unmarried. Margaret knew that the second the word got out around town about the young Seresin boy having a child out of wedlock, that they would be the talk of the town. George had told Jake that you two needed to get married and when Jake refused, George became irate and questioned the paternity of the baby.

“Honey, we’re home!” Jake shouted as he walked through the door of Bradley’s apartment.

“In the kitchen,” You called back. Jake and Bradley both walked through the door and Jake let out a low whistle. Despite the air being on, it was hot in Bradley’s apartment. You were wearing a tank top and shorts, your hair pulled up into a bun.

“Hot mama,” Jake smirked.

“Really dude,” Bradley smacked his friend’s chest. You chuckled and hugged Bradley, “Did you clean?”

“Yes! And I cooked you a welcome home dinner,” You smiled and Bradley noticed the waffle iron behind you.

“Chicken and Waffles?” Bradley asked and you nodded. He kissed the top of your head and then moved towards the fresh made waffles and fried chicken on the stove. You weren’t sure when the chicken and waffles tradition started, but it was a meal that the two of you always made when either one would come home. You smiled as you watched Jake and Bradley load plates up full of breakfast type foods and then got your own.

“That's all you're eating?” Bradley asked you.

“Can’t eat a lot without getting heartburn,” You said, “Also I need to keep my salt intake down. My ankles are starting to look like the stay puff marshmallow man.”

Jake bursted out laughing and you glared at him, “Sorry. You look beautiful.”

“Shut up,” You said and he nodded.

It was like old times, the three of you sitting around Bradley’s kitchen table, eating dinner and listening to them telling stories about what happened on detachment. You felt at ease, and so did the baby in your belly. She still kept up with her kicking, feeling her move about ten times an hour. Jake’s favorite thing as of late as to put his cheek on your belly and feel her kick against him. The past two nights, Jake had fallen asleep with his face nuzzled into your belly.

“So. . . have the two of you thought about names anymore?” Bradley asked. After dinner, the three of you had moved into his small living room. You sat on the couch with your legs outstretched and resting in Jake’s lap as he massaged your ankles. Bradley sat on the ground in front of you, with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, as you ran your hand through his curls.

“A couple,” You said, “Still stuck on a couple.”

“Care to share?”

“For some reason, Jake likes Bonnie.”

“After Bonnie Tyler!” Jake objected.

“Not gonna lie, I like it too, Bagman,” Bradley said and Jake gave you a look.

“No,” You shot it down, yet again, “I really like Wren,” Bradley looked up at you with a smile, “Your mom had that wren house that looked like a little mansion, and I always loved it. She gave it to me after. . .”

“I know,” Bradley said and squeezed your hand, “I like Wren.”

You smiled and leaned your head against the back of the couch. You sighed in content, and closed your eyes, feeling comfortable in the embrace of your two boys.

— — —

“I feel fat.”

“You’re not fat.”

“I feel like it.”

Jake sighed as he ran his hand down his face. You had been sitting on the bed in your bra and underwear for nearly an hour now, trying to find some excuse as to not go to the baby shower. Phoenix, Stephanie, and Alyssa had been working on this since the moment you found out you were pregnant. Penny let them use the Hard Deck. And from the sight of your parents kitchen the other day, you know that Stephanie has been baking for days.

You had been looking forward to the baby shower, but now you were dreading it. You weren’t sure if it was because you were feeling the size of a bus, or if it was because your due date was weeks away. Some of your mom friends told you that it was during the baby shower that they realized that this was really happening. And as you were sitting half naked in your 36th week of pregnancy, you were realizing. . . this is really happening. In four weeks you were going to have to push a baby out. A baby that you were having with your ex.

“I don’t want to go,” You pouted.

“Baby, you need to go. Just for a bit,” Jake kneeled down in front of you, “The girls, your mom and Penny have been looking forward to doing this for you. And. . . we kinda need this baby shower cause we don’t have a lot.”

Jake watched as your face went from a pout to full of anxiety, “Why would you tell me that, Jacob!? Oh my god, our crib isn’t even put together. Do you even know how to put the carseat in!? Holy shit we don’t even-”

“Hey, hey, calm down, momma,” Jake ran his hands up and down your arms to calm you, “Breathe, it’s okay,” You nodded as you let out a slow breath through pursed lips, “I’m sorry for making you panic. Your dad, Dylan, Mav and the rest of the guys plan on building all the furniture after the shower.”

“Promise me you won’t let Dylan put the crib together. I don’t trust his furniture building skills after the tree house disaster,” You said and Jake nodded.

“I promise,” Jake says and helps you up from the bed, “Now, get dressed so we aren’t late.”

You nodded and walked back into the bathroom to finish getting yourself ready, “Have your parents said anything?”

“No,” Jake said, “They haven’t even reached out. I told Annie and Charlie about the baby. They’re a little pissed I didn’t say anything earlier, but they are sending a gift.”

You actually liked Jake’s sisters. At first, you thought they were stuck up, and then all of you went out to a local bar back in Texas. You watched both of them go several rounds on the mechanical bull, and realized that they weren’t that bad. You actually got along better with Anna and Charlotte then you did with Gia.

“You know. . . Doctor Carpenter can still do a DNA test if you want it done before-”

“No,” Jake cut you off, and you bit your lip. The topic of paternity testing had only come up twice since the night of the phone call. Once the day Jake got released from the hospital, and at your last doctor's appointment. Both times Jake had shot down the idea of the test, not even wanting to entertain the thought of something his father suggested.

“It might help patch things-”

“I am not doing it,” Jake said, feeling his blood pressure start to rise. He took a deep breath and turned to face you, “I don’t want to give him any more fuel to hold over my head, and doing exactly what he wants is going to do that. I trust you, and I trust when you say that this is my baby. You haven’t given me any reason not to.” You nodded and Jake gently lifted your face up to look at him, “I love you,” He said and kissed your lips softly, “Go get dressed.”

You sighed as Jake walked out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Neither one had talked about the weird relationship you had found yourselves in. You wanted to take things slow, to think about the newborn daughter you were about to have in less than two months, but your body also reacted to all the affection Jake was giving you. It was becoming harder and harder to stand your ground on the ‘just exes who get along’ thing.

The dress you wore was a baby pink flowy maxi dress. You decided to put your hair back in a low bun, trying to get it off your neck. You told yourself that next time you get pregnant, it was going to be in the summer, so you didn’t have to deal with the hot summers of San Diego. It was the start of June, and you were dreading how uncomfortable you were going to be once July hit. Jake put on a pair of navy blue shorts and a white button up. It was an usual sight to see Jake out of his flight suit or dress uniform, but it was a good sight to see.

— — —

There was a bouquet of pink balloons tied to the outside of the Hard Deck, and you could see the parking lot full of cars. You were a little bit nervous about having a baby shower. You didn’t think you knew enough people that would come to one, but Alyssa and your mother assured you that you knew plenty of people who wanted to celebrate you and the baby. Jake parked his truck near the front of the building so it would be easy to load up gifts when the shower was over.

“Ready?” Jake asked, looking over at you.

“As ready as I can be at 36 weeks,” You sighed, “I am not wearing a fucking tiara.”

“No tiaras, got it,” Jake nodded.

Somehow, you got talked into wearing a tiara. But it was because Stephanie gave you puppy dog eyes and you didn’t want to deal with her pouting. You and Jake split up as you went and greeted guests who had come to the shower. You swore the Hard Deck was packed as if it was a friday night. You were surprised to see friends and family that you hadn’t seen in quite a few years. People that you worked with at your first school in Lemoore were there, your aunts that lived in Virginia flew in, even some of Jake’s academy friends and their wives came for the shower. It made your heart swell seeing so many people gathered to celebrate your daughter.

“How are you feeling?” Bradley asked, sitting down next to you by a large table covered in gifts.

“Overwhelmed, but there’s pickle wraps so I’m okay,” You said, popping a pickle wrap in your mouth. Bradley chuckled and looked down at his hands, “How are you?”

“I’m good. A little sad.”

“Why?”

“Cause I know my mom would’ve loved to be here,” He looked up at you, his eyes wet with tears, “God, she would’ve been the first one to volunteer herself to plan this whole thing. Hell, she would’ve planned this and lil bug’s first birthday.”

You smiled and rubbed your belly, “Remember my sixteenth birthday?”

“How could I forget?” Bradley laughed, “She spent three weeks working on that cake, I swear. Remember prom my senior year?”

“She really saved the damn day,” You shook your head.

You were a sophomore in high school and Bradley had asked you to go to his senior prom with him. Carole had been battling cancer his whole senior year, and he had quit most of his extra circulars to take care of her. His friends had ditched him, girlfriends had left him, but you stuck by his side. Carole wasn’t about to let her baby miss out on normal senior year things, like prom. So Bradley asked you to go with him. Everything was perfect, until your dress ripped on the day of prom. You cried as you called Bradley and told him. He was all too prepared to just stay home and watch movies with you, but Carole wasn’t going to allow that to happen. She told you to come over and bring your dress. While Stephanie and your mother did your hair, and Ice helped Bradley fix his bowtie, Carole was stitching up your dress.

“I have to tell you something,” Bradley said. You nodded and he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry to tell you on your baby shower, but I gotta do it soon rather than later.”

“If you killed someone, I can’t really help you. Give me like nine weeks and I can help you hide-”

“I didn’t kill anyone Bug,” Bradley laughed, “I uh. . . I met someone.”

“You did?!” You gasped, “Like a-”

“I met a girl,” Bradley smiled and scratched the back of his neck. You saw a blush creep across his skin as you squealed and clapped your hands in excitement.

“Tell me more!” You said.

“I met her the other day when I was shopping for a gift. I wasn’t sure what to get and Alyssa said babies can’t play with hot wheels.”

“You got your dad’s gift giving skills.”

“Hey!” Bradley shoved you playfully, “So I went to that baby store off of Grand, and I looked lost apparently. She came up to me and I made a complete fool of myself. Bug, you would’ve made fun of me for the next decade if you had been there.”

“Did you use a pick up line?”

“I might’ve,” Bradley answered and you bursted out laughing.

From the other side of the bar, Jake watched your interaction with Bradley. He, of course, knew about the girl that Bradley had met several weeks back. Bradley had actually told Jake the other night about her, and asked him how to tell you. Bradley hardly ever brought girls home, simply because he really didn’t have a real home. He just had you, and your family. He was nervous to bring girls home because he didn’t want them to see him as damaged or having daddy issues. But Bradley could tell. . . this girl was different. Jake felt his heart warm at the sight of the two of you falling back into an old rhythm.

“Well Bradley, she sounds like a really sweet girl,” You said, “I hope I can meet her soon.”

“You will soon,” Bradley nodded, “She’s a good one.”

“Well, if she can survive your dumb pickup lines, then I assume that she is.”

“Oh whatever,” Bradley rolled his eyes playfully.

“Hey,” Jake said, walking over to the two of you. He was wearing a pink sash that says ‘future daddy’ on it and he was wearing it with pride, “Phoenix told me to come tell you that it’s gift time.”

“That’s my cue,” Bradley said, “Congrats, Bug.” Bradley pulled you in for a hug and kissed your cheek, before standing up from the chair. He hugged Jake before going to join the rest of the dagger squad in the back of the Hard Deck. Jake sighed as he sat down in the chair Rooster once occupied.

“Are you ready to open gifts?” You asked Jake and he gave you a big, bright smile.

“Of course I am,” Jake said, and rubbed his hands together, “Let’s do this.”

Phoenix and Stephanie helped give you and Jake gifts to open. You were a bit overwhelmed by how many gifts you were given, but you knew that each and every single one of them was going to be put to good use. Jake looked like a kid on Christmas as he tore through gift bags and boxes, making sure to hold up the item that was inside. He loved the attention, and made sure to put on his best Vannah White impression in showing the gifts off.

Your parents had given you the rocking chair that was given to your mother from Grandma Kazansky. Phoenix and Alyssa gave you a collection of Doctor Suess books. Bob, Fanboy and Payback all went in on getting onesies, each of them saying that they were the favorite uncle. You were even surprised that Stephanie and Gia gave you a gift, which were matching pajamas for you, Jake and the baby.

“This one doesn’t say who it’s from,” Stephanie said, handing it to you.

“Oh, that’s mine,” Rooster said, and you looked up, smiling at him. You should’ve known it was from him by the Hawaiian pattern wrapping paper. You tore the paper off, and took the lid of the box off. You felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked down at the blanket inside.

“What is it?” Jake asked, looking over your shoulder.

“I-I,” You sniffled and looked up at Rooster, “My parents swore we lost this when we moved from Virginia. Where did you find this?”

“It was in a box of things that I saved from Moms,” Rooster said, scratching the back of his neck, “She must’ve found it, and fixed it up, and I tucked it away in a box when she passed.”

You pulled out the pink and white baby blanket that was inside the box. It was once yours, and you drug it around everywhere you went. Carole actually started calling you ‘Linus’ for the way you always had your blanket with you. It had been through the wringer, it had holes and tattered sides, but it looked like Carole Bradshaw had worked her magic and fixed it. You wiped a tear from your cheek as you looked at the stitching in the corner of it.

‘To Bug, I’ll love you forever, like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be’

You hugged the blanket to your chest and smiled at Bradley. He didn’t say anything but just nodded, understanding what you were saying without you having to verbally say anything. Jake put his hand on your thigh and squeezed it. You looked over at Jake, and then leaned in to kiss his lips.

“That was the last of them,” Stephanie said.

“Okay,” Jake said, and then stood up, grabbing his glass of punch from the table beside him, “So, I think I speak for both Y/N and myself when I say that we are very thank-”

“Did I miss the party?” You didn’t even need to stand up to see who the voice belonged to. You closed your eyes and let out a short breath as Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes. The two people that Jake didn’t want to talk to let alone see in person were now crashing his ex-girlfriend’s baby shower.

“Mom, Dad. . . what are you doing here?”

taglist: @materialgirl01 @cherrycola27 @love2write2626 @averyhotchner @xoxabs88xox @nagygreta @bioodforbiood @violyn20 @abaker74 @misshoneypaper @callsign-joyride @auroraboreallisfine @thedroneranger @rosewritesitout @nobody7102 @bradleybeachbabe @wildxwidow @cm27078 @caitsymichelle13 @whisperofsong @bonitanightmxres @maverooster @mizzzpink @khaylin27 @shawnsblue @shelbycillian @sexualparkour @thenewdaysalreadyhere @fandom-princess-forevermore @double-j @momc95 @buxkybarnez @paige-alexandra-may @coffeebooksandfandom @86laura11 @some-lovely-day @ohemgeewhat @itsmytimetoodream @emmaelix @springholland @atarmychick007 @okiegirl24 @i3k2ts @gassyandsassy1 @happierbelle @celestialeviereads @kandierteveilchen

TAG LIST IS FULL DO NOT ASKED TO BE TAGGED

take a look at my next Jake fic:) Bad Medicine

588 notes · View notes

denalidear · 11 months

Text

Raspy

a/n: basically, uh, my bestie and i saw a lovejoy concert this week and we've had mutual wilbur brainrot. thankfully, i'm an english major with just enough self confidence to write us some fics. enjoy.

summary: traveling made you sick, and close quarters mean everyones sick too.

word count: 672

warnings: none? fem!reader, a little suggestive, sickness

---

It’s not like you had meant to get sick. Traveling always introduced you to germs, and staying in a tour bus meant close quarters with the rest of the band. Thankfully, you’d all gotten a small break over the weekend of travel and slept a lot as the tour progressed from Washington state to Utah.

You’d almost banned Will from kisses, but that man had the best puppy dog eyes known to man. But now, as the bus rolled into Salt Lake City, he was suffering the consequences of his actions in the form of a mild cold. He had a massive headache, but apart from a little rasp in his throat, his vocal chords weren’t under too much extra stress.

It did take a bit of extra convincing to get Will out of the bunks and into sound check, but a few forehead kisses did the trick as you offered him a few ibuprofen and a bottle of water.

“I feel bad, Will. Maybe kisses should have been banned.” You said quietly, watching the tower of a man crawl out of his bottom bunk. “Absolutely not, love. That’s the whole point of bringing you on tour.” He pulled you into a hug. “Can’t kiss over the phone.” He smooshed his lips into the top of your head, the action barely resembling a kiss.

“Alright, well, don’t let me distract you any longer. You’ve got a whole load of people waiting on you.”

“Yes ma’am.” He saluted as he moved around the bus, getting ready for sound check and the concert that would insue.

---

“Salt Lake City, how are we doing tonight?” Wilbur asked the crowed. The venue was packed, almost more that the other dozen places you’d been on tour so far. And the energy buzzed in the room, the audience screaming their heads off after the first song.

“Salt Lake, I have a favor to ask of you. My beautiful girlfriend, whose hiding off stage-” Will gestured towards you and the crowd screamed. “- got me and Ash sick this weekend. So I am extremely unwell.” The room erupted in laughter and cheering.

“As a side effect of this, my voice is very raspy. It’s great for me because my love thinks it’s sexy, but it’s not so great for singing. So I need you all to fucking scream to these songs.” The room vibrated with the volume of the cheers. You could see his grin from behind the curtains as he carefully began the chords to Model Busses.

---

Post-concert Will was your favorite Will, not that you love him any less normally. But after every gig he just buzzed with adrenaline when he got off stage. Tonight was no different. As soon as he got off stage he scooped you up in a hug and smashed his lips on yours. You indulged him for a moment, holding him tight despite the shirt clinging to his body with sweat. As soon as he pulled away, you spoke.

“You, mister, did not play my song!” You berated him as you helped him pull of the denim jacket he insisted on wearing. He laughed quietly, voice rougher han before he went on stage. “You promised you’d do it’s all futile acoustic tonight!”

“And you, my love, are being mean to a sick man.”

“Sick as a consequence of his own actions. Only one of us here can’t keep his lips to himself.” You fluffed his sweaty stuck hair off of his forehead before pulling him into a kiss.

“Seems like a mutual problem to me, my dear.” He tried to pull you into another hug, the sweat on his skin cooling. You quickly pushed your hand to his chest.

“Oh buddy, if anything else is happening between us tonight, you’re gonna need to shower first.”

“Well I thought you loved me, sweat and all.”

“I only love boys who play my favorite song at their concert. Like they promised.”

“That’s low, love. Really low.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about it when you don’t stink.”

#wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x fem!reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt fanfiction #fanfiction #cc!wilbur soot x reader #musicianbur #musicianbur x reader #cc!wilbur soo t #blurb #headcanon #cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader #fluff #wilbur soot fanfiction

361 notes · View notes

creepycrawliesanonymous · 11 months

Text

To All The Boys I've Written About Before - Beige Flags

In my never-ending quest to make things that appeal only to me, here's a little exercise for all the boys in my arsenal.

Angel Torres will always help you out around the house, no question about that, but boy will he act like he's a hero for simply loading the dishwasher. I'm talking wiping his brow every time you walk into the kitchen, grunting when he puts a plate on the drying rack. You offer to help but he flat out refuses, and will probably say some shit like "My hands look like this [soapy] so yours can look like that [slightly dirty from repotting your plants]."

Jesse Pinkman will call you "dude" until the end of time. It doesn't matter what stage of your relationship you are currently in, you will always and forever be "dude" to him. "Yo dude, do you want to grab Wendy's on the way home?""Dude, you look pretty today." You could be at the alter and it would be a "Dude, I do." He also 100% buys in to the "glasses make you smarter" myth.

Lemon bought himself a label-maker, and that man LOVES makin' labels. All the drawers in your flat are labeled, so are the spices (even if they already have labels), he labels which food belongs to who, all the wires/cables have a label for what kind of wire/cable they are and what they're for. You told him that you could probably remember which clear jar holds the salt and which holds the ginger-snaps, so he made the label "fuck off" and stuck it to your forehead.

Tangerine refuses to call menu items by their proper names, especially if they're stupid. A matcha latte is "green foamy shit, you know." If the dish is named after someone, this chicken shop you frequent has an Ike's Famous Wings Bowl, he will call it "that bloke's chicken thing, the one with all the spices and shit on it." The worst was when he wanted to order the Foxx on the Roxx Boxx from TGI Fridays (yes that's the spelling, I looked it up), he straight up would not say its name, he just kept pointing at the menu and saying "fucking- this one."

Harvey SDV, sweet man that he is, will always sign off his text messages. It doesn't matter how long or short the message is. There's the standard "darling, I'm running a little bit late, would you like me to pick up something for dinner? Dr H" but there's also the "okay honey (: Dr H" or the "[insert picture of flower] Dr H". You've tried to explain to him that you know that it's him, that he doesn't need to sign off every time he messages you, but it's no use.

Andrew Neiman loves to collect random bits of niche trivia, but will straight up forget incredibly basic things. You two were out at a live music venue, sipping on your tasty little beverages, and he'll just bust out something about the similarities between jazz and Indian music, and while he's expanding on the influence of Ravi Shankar on Coltrane, he'll flip through the menu in front of him and ask you what margarine is.

Carmen Berzatto, common knowledge at this point, always keeps a book on him, which on its own is a very good thing. It keeps him from getting bored, you think it makes him look smart, it's a win by all accounts. But, save for when he's at work, he will whip that book out whenever there's any sort of lull in a conversation or if he's not physically doing something. You were talking to him about weekend plans, and he'll be listening intently because he's a good boyfriend who cares about your thoughts, but as soon as you go quiet to turn around to grab something he's flipping open his copy of The Reivers to quickly read a sentence.

Randal Graves loves to fake propose at restaurants for free shit. He makes a big thing out of it, will pull you aside before you enter Olive Garden and show you the tiny plastic ring he's used about three times already and whisper about the ruse he's about to pull, and all you can do is nod along with him. He's gotten more elaborate each time, from the basic garden-variety proposal, to putting it in your water, to asking to have it put in your Chipotle burrito (you had nearly swallowed it that time), managing to score a few free desserts and, at one point, a bottle of cheapo champagne that he got so incredibly slurshed on at home.

Warren Rojas has this game he likes to play whenever you two go to bars or nightclubs where he will pretend like you two don't know each other just so he can hit on you in the most cheesy ways known to man. Asking to buy you a drink, dumb pick-up lines, saying shit like "My name is Warren, but you can call me anytime." It's so incredibly dumb and he gets the biggest kick out of it. One time when you and Eddie were having a conversation at a party he totally pulled out the "Is this guy bothering you, babe?" He thinks he's so funny.

Jimmy Bartlett, whenever you two are cuddling, will set a timer so he knows when to switch from big spoon to little spoon. He'll bring up the egg timer from the kitchen and set it to 20 minutes before he joins you on his bed. You'll be half asleep after a long shift from work with his head buried in the back of your neck, and the next thing you know he's shuffling around while tiny beeps are sounding and he's somehow got your arms around him before you even realize what's happening, before drifting off again. He says it's only fair.

Miguel O'Hara is like a big dog with the temperament of a house cat; thinks he takes up less space than he does and always at least slightly grumpy. He'll get confused when he goes to put on a sweater that was originally yours (the communal wardrobe holds no prisoners) and finds it tight around his biceps. He knocks his forehead on low doorways constantly, you've taken to shouting 'duck' whenever you see him about to go through one. Watching movies on the couch with him, during a rare moment of peace, can be an ordeal because he always wants to lie down on top of you and you don't have the heart to tell him that he's crushing your lungs.

#angel torres x reader #jesse pinkman x reader #lemon x reader #tangerine x reader #harvey sdv x reader #andrew neiman x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #randal graves x reader #warren rojas x reader #jimmy bartlett x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #the gang's all here #multifandom preferences

183 notes · View notes

sunkissedchld · 6 months

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒕

the piles go from left to right. therefore, pile one is the sandwich, pile two is the strawberries and whip cream, and so on and so forth.

this PAC is intended for when you want to eat but don't know what you should make or order. you probably shouldn't use this daily, but if you want to: be my guest!

good luck to you, reader 🍓

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Chocolate Legs" by Eric Benet

"One Last Time" from Hamilton the Musical

"Victory Song" by Stray Kids

Cards:

Ace of Minuta, Judgement (Rx), The High Priestess, Queen of Lunga (Rx)

Reading:

stelline pasta

mexican food

tteokbokki with rose water

salt & pepper

"sweet indulgence"

sweets in general, or as a base flavor

spicy as a secondary flavor

homemade/homegrown

family recipe

tomato

fruit

corn

hot, fire

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"god is a woman (live)" by Ariana Grande

"U Remind Me" by Usher

"Run" by Otis Kane

Cards:

The Emperor (Rx), King of Minuta, Seven of Minuta, Three of Ripiena, Page of Lunga

Reading:

(red) wine

champagne

orzo pasta

lasagna

seafood boil

ramen

loaded nachos

casserole

heavy sauce (ie. pasta, alfredo, dressing, etc.)

soul/southern food

heavy and indulgent

layered

"something that fills you up" - not a snack

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Shufflemancy:

"Speed of Love" by Kelly Rowland

"Little People" by Todrick Hall

"Finesse (Remix)" by Bruno Mars (feat. Cardi B)

Cards:

Nine of Minuta, Two of Lunga, Four of Ripiena, Four of Lunga

Reading:

spaghetti

barbecue (specifically smoked or heavily marinated)

steak

brisket

chicken adobo

tex-mex

fusion cuisine

savory as a primary flavor

comfort food

soul/southern food

double entrée

expensive - in amount of food or in actual price

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕

Shufflemancy:

"Dangerous" by YG & Mozzy (feat. G Herbo)

"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" by Pentatonix

"Bang Bang" by Jessie J, Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj

Cards:

Eight of Minuta (Rx), Nine of Corta (Rx), Ace of Minuta, Three of Corta

Reading:

fast food/drive-thru food

microwavable food

mcdonalds

chicken nuggets

panda express

snack food

chips

popcorn

trail mix

charcuterie board

lunchables

food tray

#tarot #oracle #pick a card #PAC #tarotblr #sunkissedchld #Spotify

97 notes · View notes

bakedbakermom · 10 months

Text

Enough.

Rated X / 4800 words / tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr / posted on ao3

Summary: Dana Scully has had enough.

Author's Note: This is the first fanfic I have written, in this or any other fandom, for almost 20 years. It felt great to stretch the old muscles, and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments will be printed, laminated, and hung on the wall <3

_________

God, I only meant to kiss him, Scully thought, gasping, before Mulder’s tongue swirled around her nipple and she lost the ability to think.

And it was true - thoughts of kissing Mulder had been brewing deep in her core for weeks, crowding out her ability to think of much else. She had found herself watching his mouth when she should have been listening to his words, and feeling vaguely envious of everything that touched his lips. He brought them some truly terrible vending machine coffee during an all-nighter at a crummy hotel in the midwest, and the way his tongue had toyed with the little opening on the lid as he waited for it to cool made her thighs clench. In yet another rental car on yet another nameless backroad, she watched his jaw work as he split the shells of his favorite sunflower seeds, wondering how that sharp tongue that worked them so deftly open would feel in her own mouth, if he would taste of salt and beer. He licked barbecue sauce from his fingers at an all-night diner in the middle of nowhere, his tongue swirling around tips, and she had nearly choked on her iced tea.

Oh yes, thoughts of kissing Mulder had been occupying her more and more. And from the way he would catch her eye, sending her an almost imperceptible smirk each time he saw her watching, he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. She kept waiting for him to stop being such a gentleman, to take that first bold step the way he so often did. But each time she felt that line rising up to be crossed, he pulled away.

And Dana Scully had had enough.

She’d decided tonight, as she rode up the elevator for one of their not-a-date-nights that had become their post-case norm of late, that she was ready - or more accurately, that she was so far past ready that she might actually die if she didn’t kiss him soon. She brought wine - nothing too fancy, nothing that would be out of place in the mismatched glasses he kept in the cabinet, but a step up from the usual ales and lagers they usually shared. And she wore a soft v-neck sweater cut just a tad lower than she would usually wear, the better to show off the enticing cleavage her new bra presented.

When she had slipped into the matching panties, she had very firmly told herself it was simply a personal preference for symmetry, and not any sort of statement about where this desperately-needed kiss would lead.

From the moment he popped Tarantula into the VCR (for the fourth time, “It’s a classic, Scully!”), she had begun planning her move. She drained her first glass of wine faster than she should have, before he’d even finished making the popcorn, letting the liquid courage percolate through her system. He settled in beside her with a large bowl in his lap, loaded with butter and salt just how she likes it, just the way he’s talked her into liking it; and she eased herself slowly closer to him on the worn leather couch until the heat of his thigh pressed against her own. By the time Leo G. Carrol’s assistant went up in flames, she was nestled quite cozily against him. She watched him from the corner of her eye, and saw with some satisfaction that he was watching her as well.

She had never let herself get quite this close to him before, or at least not without some life-threatening context. (Except for that time on the baseball diamond, when she thought maybe this was it, but he had done nothing more than flirt and hit pop-flies and leave her flushed and frustrated).

But there were no invisible forest men now, no cultists armed with rifles, no bees or beasts or black-suited thugs. Just them, and a cheesy sci-fi movie, and a bowl of popcorn in his lap so that each time she reached for a handful she was acutely aware of just what lay beneath it; with each bite he would slowly lick the salt from his lips, and something in her heart would sputter. She had the sudden sense he was doing it on purpose - that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and as always, their minds were traveling down the same road together.

When the giant spider crested the dry scrubby hills surrounding Desert Rock, Arizona, to devour the hero, he had draped his arm across the back cushions, the very picture of a nervous teenager at the drive-in. She took the chance to move more closely still, the heat and the scent of him nearly overwhelming. Her heartbeat seemed to thrum through every inch of her body, and she felt certain he could feel it through her skin. She had stopped watching the screen entirely, unable to concentrate on anything but the pounding of her heart and the body of the man beside her. When she couldn’t stand it another second, she took one last breath for courage, turned in the circle of his arm, and tilted up to press her mouth to his.

The first brush of their lips was tentative, soft, toe-curlingly tender and if he tasted like wine and popcorn instead of seeds and beer, well, she was absolutely not complaining. When his tongue brushed against her lower lip, she opened for him, and the way his tongue slid into her mouth felt like coming home. Scully had thought that it would be enough just to kiss him, just to sit together on the creaking leather of his old couch, under the warm, scratchy weight of the Navajo blanket he kept there more for her sake than for his, and languidly lap at the font of his mouth until morning.

What she hadn’t anticipated, but in hindsight should have known based on years of observing his oral fixation, was that Fox Mulder would be an absolutely amazing kisser. He was slow and exploratory and unrelenting, running his tongue along her teeth and her lips and the roof of her mouth as if he could read her desires written there in braille. He nibbled at her lower lip and suckled at the upper and still she really could have just kissed, just necked him like a teenager for hours, until he cupped her jaw with one wide hand and his thumb brushed against the pulse point in her throat and she whimpered. Actually whimpered, a wholly unexpected, desperate, animal sound that she would have found utterly embarrassing had he not answered with a soft growl that reverberated down her throat and straight into her pelvis, and it was all bets off from there.

A whirl of hands and mouths and somehow she is lying half beneath him, his shirt gone and her sweater pushed up and that pretty new bra pulled down to expose one rosey-peaked breast to the dual pleasures of his hand and his mouth. When her knee brushes against his growing erection, he bites her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp. He chuckles into her skin and looks up to meet her eyes, delighted to find her pupils blown out with lust and her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink. Her fingers curl in his hair and pull; he releases her nipple with a sinfully wet pop and crashes his mouth into hers with a force that clacks their teeth together.

He rolls her over his body until she’s straddling him, heat blooming everywhere they touch. The soft springy hairs of his chest tickle her oversensitive skin, and he runs his hands from her shoulders, down the fine curve of her waist to grip and knead at the firm flesh of her ass. She scratches her nails across the broad plains of his shoulders - softly at first, then more firmly when he hums his assent into her mouth. The muscles of his back flex beneath her hands, and his whole body shudders as she moves them to his front, his nipples pebbling beneath her touch.

He pulls her down against him and presses up at the same time, trying to find some relief for the near-painful ache in his groin. She moans into his mouth and he does it again, and she arches against him in pleasure.

Mulder uses this distraction to pull her top off all the way, unclasping her bra with one hand and bringing his mouth back to her breast before the fabric has even hit the floor. She writhes above him, panting and gasping as he learns the right combination of lips, teeth, and tongue to make her shudder. Always such a curious mind, single-focused and driven, now turned to uncovering the mysteries of her body, and she revels in being the object of his obsession.

“I want you, Scully,” he whispers as he moves to the other breast. She arches into his mouth but doesn’t answer.

He stills, eyes wary, that lost little boy inside peeking through. Waiting for rejection, waiting for her to say it was all a mistake and walk away. With their height difference, their eyes are level now even with her straddling his lap. He brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and gently thumbs her cheekbones. The sadness in his voice is palpable. “Do you want to stop?”

She shakes her head just slightly, her brows knitting together and her mouth moving into a particular smirk that, in the complex language of Scully Microexpressions, means I need a second to find the right words. His hands skim along her sides, walking the line between comforting, tickling, and arousing. It takes a few deep breaths before she remembers how to speak; the last one comes out on a shudder as she presses her lips to his forehead.

The credits are rolling on the TV across the room, the monster immolated and the town safe; shadows flicker over their faces as she looks into his eyes, unsurprised to find a sheen of unshed tears there that matches her own. She had thought that meeting his gaze after they had kissed - or, more accurately, after he had her nipple in his mouth and his erection pressing against her - might be awkward, but like everything else between them the last seven years, it somehow feels natural. They’re stepping across this line together.

“I don’t want to stop, Mulder,” she whispers, nuzzling along his nose, “I’ve just been thinking about kissing you for so long, I never really let myself think about what might come after.”

“Mmm,” he hums into her skin, peppering her face with kisses before moving down her neck and along her collarbone. “Good thing I have.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrow lifts; he can hear it in her voice even though his face is buried in her hair.

“Often, and in great detail.” His lips find that same pulse point, right where her jaw meets her throat, and he grins as her thighs squeeze his. One hand cups the back of her head, tilting her this way and that so his mouth can reach every possible inch of skin; the other hand comes up to her breast, kneading and rolling. She is soft and pliant above him, allowing him to explore, making soft sounds each time he finds a sensitive spot, and his profiler’s mind is tucking each one away for later.

“Tell me,” she pants as he presses a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She slips her hand between them and presses her palm against the thick ridge of his erection, grinning as he moans into her skin. “Show me.”

"Christ, Scully. Where should I begin?" Mulder presses another kiss to her lips, so soft and tender she forgets how to breathe for a moment. He sips at her like fine wine, savoring each taste of her tongue, her lips, the ivory ridge of her teeth. By the time he pulls back she is shivering, aching to see what happens next.

"There is one thing I fantasize about quite frequently," he husks close to her ear. The scratch of his stubble is intoxicating. "I can't stop wondering what you taste like." He reaches between them to cup her, hot and throbbing, through her slacks, and her blushing nod is the only answer she can manage.

All she can do is moan in anticipation as he leans her slowly back, supporting the full weight of her in his arms, until her shoulders come to rest on the arm of the couch, his body nestled hard and hot between her trembling thighs.

She will never again be able to smell leather without remembering this moment.

He kisses his way down her body with a slow deliberation that borders on agonizing, nipping and sucking and licking every inch he can reach. When his tongue swirls into the dip of her navel she nearly cries with pleasure. He runs his teeth over the ridge of her hip bones as he parts the zipper on her slacks. His mouth leaves her body only long enough to shuck the pants to the floor, and then he is nosing along the hem of her panties.

"Fuck, Scully, I can smell you." He runs his fingers over the lacy fabric, scraping his nails along the gusset until she shakes. "You're so wet, you're soaking through."

With anyone else she might have felt embarrassed, but Mulder's words only enflame her further. She rolls her hips, shamelessly rubbing herself against him. "Please," she pants, "please touch me."

He laughs darkly, continuing to run his fingers slowly up and down the length of her slit, and rubs his stubble against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He licks her, once, over the lace, and she bucks desperately towards his mouth. “Easy there, G-woman,” he murmurs, pressing her back down with one firm hand on her hip. “I’m living my dream, here.”

She laughs, a short huff that eases some of the tension in her gut, and tries to relax into his ministrations. He smiles as she softens beneath him, and rewards her by sliding one long finger under the sheer scrap of fabric, just barely grazing her entrance. “So wet,” he says again.

He looks up to see that her eyes have fluttered closed. “Look at me,” he says, and when she finds enough will to meet his eyes, he lifts his finger, glistening with her wetness, into his mouth and sucks deeply. "You're just as sweet as I imagined."

“Fuck,” she whimpers, and knows she is dripping. “More. Please.”

Apparently he renders her monosyllabic.

“How much do you love these?” he asks, appraising the delicate lace, the tiny stitches along the seams.

“Not at all. Hate them. Please.” She is gasping, writhing, and when he rips her panties off she nearly keens with pleasure.

He stares at her for so long she begins to feel nervous, and a flush creeps up her chest and floods her cheeks. He takes in the auburn thatch of curls between her thighs, the dark pink swell of her labia, the tiny freckles sprinkled across the creamy expanse of her skin. He drags his fingers down the length of her slit, marveling at the way her lower lips spread for him, at the moisture leaking from her sweet little cunt. “Beautiful,” he breathes.

“Mulder,” she huffs, squirming, “if you don’t quit staring and touch me soon, I’m going to shoot you. Again.”

A quick grin and then his mouth is on her, his tongue lapping at the entrance to her sex, and the first brush of his lips over her clit nearly sends her over the edge.

If the way he kissed her felt obsessive, he eats her out with something that borders on worship.

He slides one long finger inside her, then another, curling them against her front wall until he finds the spot that makes her gush and shake around him. He flicks his tongue over the hardened nub of her clitoris - slow, fast, gentle, hard - and she fists her hands in his hair when it’s just the right combination. He presses the hood back with his thumb and suckles directly on the little bundle of nerves; her belly coils tight with pleasure and she manages to gasp, “Yes, there, I’m so close, oh -” before she can’t make sense anymore.

He swirls and suckles on her clit, pumping gently in and out with his fingers, and experimentally runs his little finger down her perineum to brush gently over the tight pucker of her asshole. She shudders and her whimpers reach a new, higher pitch. He hums his satisfaction into her dripping sex, and that’s all it takes - she is gone, shaking and gasping and making strangled little cries that might be his name.

Mulder continues to lap tenderly at her sex as she comes down, riding out tremors and trembles until she is heavy-limbed and boneless beneath him. Her smile looks almost drunken as she cards her fingers through his hair. “Good, Scully?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.

She nods and hums, riding a cloud of oxytocin. He eases out from between her legs; her smile begins to fade into confusion until he slides one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her easily, and carries her down the hall to his bedroom.

His sheets are softer than she had expected, as if he had been hoping for company; she wonders if this is the first time he has prepared a bed for them, how many movie nights he has slept alone on these soft sheets after the door snicked shut behind her without so much as a kiss. The thought strikes a surprisingly sad chord in her heart.

The bed dips as he settles in beside her, and she curls into his open arms with a happy sigh. “A girl could get used to this,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his bare chest.

“I sure hope she does,” he answers.

She drapes one of her legs over his and - “Oh.” She lifts the sheet and sees he somehow still has his jeans on, and is still sporting a rather impressive tent. “You appear to be overdressed,” she teases.

“Don’t worry about me, Scully. This has already been so much more than I -”

She puts a finger over his lips and shoots him one of her more serious looks. “Mulder. Shut up.”

And, for perhaps the first time in his life, he does.

Scully’s legs are still a little weak as she climbs on top of him, rubbing herself shamelessly over the bulge in his pants. She’s wet again already and hungry for him in a way she hasn’t felt in years. Her hair falls around them in an amber curtain as she leans down to kiss him, long and slow and deep. He’s grinning like an idiot by the time she pulls away, and she decides that looking down on Mulder may be her new favorite place to be.

She grinds down harder with her hips, the seam of his jeans pressing right where she wants it the most. He moans, trying not to buck beneath her and throw off her rhythm. He has to clench his fists in the sheets. She’s making a wet spot on his pants; he’ll have to wash them - and the sheets, and the couch - in the morning, but he couldn’t care less about any of that because Scully’s breasts are bouncing just in front of his face and she is writhing on top of him like an animal in heat. He reaches for her hips, trying to get just a little more pressure, but she grabs his wrists and holds them down.

“Nuh-uh,” she huffs. “You made me beg. Now it’s your turn.” She waits until he stops trying to lift his hands, then rakes her nails down his chest, leaving little streaks of pink in their wake.

“Fuck, Scully,” he moans, throwing his head back and thrusting up with his hips, which only makes her lift herself away. “I don’t know how much of this I can take.”

She only casts him a wicked grin before lowering her mouth to his, plunging her tongue deep inside and moaning. He is the first to break away, gasping for breath, and she waits for his eyes to find hers before she leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down the length of his torso. He is not as sensitive as she had been, though he does jump when she runs her tongue across the firm plains of his stomach. She finds the fine trail of dark hair beneath his navel and nips and sucks her way down it until it ends at the waist of his pants.

He expects her to undo the fly and pull them off, but instead she rubs her cheek against the stiff bulge of his cock, as if to mark it with her scent. She catches his eye again, to make sure he is watching, and then runs her tongue slowly over the full length of it. She can taste herself on the fabric and is surprised at how erotic it is.

“God, Scully. Please.”

“Mmm,” she hums against him and thumbs open the button on his fly. “Begging. I see the appeal.” She slides one hand under the waistband and scratches through the coarse hair just above his cock.

“I would get on my knees but I think something might break off.”

“Then allow me.”

She kneels between his legs, pulling down his zipper and shimmying his soft jeans down the length of his legs. She has a moment to wonder at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be wearing any boxers - does he go commando in general these days, or, like the sheets, was he hoping for something to happen tonight? - and then her eyes land on his cock and she forgets how to think.

She’s seen him naked before, of course, but always under the guise of a medical professional. Glimpsing his body while treating injury or disease is one thing. Never has she seen him hard, and now faced with the full monty - or rather, the full Mulder - she is only slightly more impressed than intimidated. She takes him in her hand, pumping up and down slowly, and a small bead of precum leaks from the purple tip. Her heart jumps, her mouth begins to water, and she licks her lips as she realizes it’s all for her.

“Oh Christ, don’t do that,” he moans, eyes glued to her mouth. “I’m trying to be cool here.” So of course she stares into his eyes, parts her lips, and then very slowly runs her tongue in a full circle around them.

He’s about to say something else but it cuts off with a gurgle when she takes him into her mouth. He’s too big to take in too deeply just yet, but she licks the tip of him like an ice cream cone, her tongue moving in lazy circles as she pumps him languidly with one hand. The other comes up beneath to cup the soft weight of his balls. He is salty and tangy and strangely sweet, and she moans as the taste of him floods her senses. She is so aroused it’s almost painful, and she wishes she had a third hand so she could touch herself as she sucks him. She takes him deeper, surprised at how much she enjoys this - the twitching of his thighs as he tries not to thrust, the way he is moaning her name between strings of curse words, the startling way his cock bumps against the back of her throat.

She’s just beginning to wonder if she can relax her throat enough to swallow him further down when Mulder’s hands land suddenly in her hair, pulling her mouth away from him with a wet and undignified slurping sound. “Hey,” she protests, donning an exaggerated and teasing pout. Her mouth and chin glisten with a mix of saliva and precum. “I was enjoying that.”

He sits up and slides his fingers between her legs. “I can tell,” he says, circling her clit and making her gasp. “And don’t get me wrong, I was too. But…”

He pulls her up the length of his body until she is nestled in his lap, her thighs braced on either side of his and his cock only inches from the wet heat of her cunt. “Please, Scully.”

“More begging?,” she purrs as she takes him in her fist again. She shifts so she can rub the tip of him between her wet and swollen folds until he moans. She positions him right against her entrance, his tip just barely inside. “Is this what you want?” she pants. For all the playfulness in her voice, she is trembling with want, and shudders as she feels herself dripping around him.

“Yes,” he hisses into her ear, crushing her tight against him and pressing his hips up. He slips another inch inside her. “Fuck me, Scully, please.” Another small thrust, another inch of her clenching around him.

Enough teasing, she decides. Enough begging. Enough waiting.

She doesn’t trust her voice not to break, so she only nods and kisses him as if she could devour him whole.

She slides down onto him slowly, adjusting to the width of him until he is buried to the hilt. They are both shaking now, their panting breaths a humid cloud between them. A long moment passes before she can move, before her body can handle the way he stretches and fills her. She is slow and deliberate, rising until he nearly slips from her body, then easing down to grind her clit against his pelvis. Waves of pleasure wash through her with each stroke, and she drops her head to his shoulder, overwhelmed.

He reaches down to cup her ass, spreading her wide and taking some control over her motion. They moan in unison as he begins to thrust in counterpoint to the slow roll of her hips.

It doesn’t take long before Scully begins to feel the flame of another orgasm kindle deep in her belly. The moan that comes from her throat belongs to another woman, one who is wild and wanton and apparently capable of coming more than once in a night; and oh how she wants to be that woman.

“Mulder,” she pants, “I need - I’m -” Another moan, and the coil inside her tightens further, closing off her ability to speak.

He understands, he always understands, licking his thumb and then sliding it between their sweating bodies to press hard against her clit. “Fuck, yes, Scully,” he says as she grinds down on his hand. “I want to feel you come.”

His mouth seeks out that same damn spot on her neck that started this whole thing, sucking and nibbling with the same rhythm of his thumb circling her clit. “Come for me, Scully,” he growls into her skin, and then bites down hard enough to bruise.

She shatters around him, bucking her hips wildly against him and muffling her cries of “Mulder, oh God, Mulder,” into his shoulder until she is hoarse. He tumbles over the edge right behind her, hot and pulsing, and the feel of his cock twitching as he fills her with his cum is nearly enough to set her off again.

They stay entwined for a long time, shudders passing back and forth between them, until their sweat cools and their mingled fluids begin to leak onto his thighs.

Mulder leans back first, brushing damp hair from her face so he can look into her eyes. “Hey.”

Her answering smile is almost bashful, but there’s not an ounce of regret in it. “Hey.”

“So. Wine. Fancy underwear. That sweater.”

“No boxers,” she counters. “Clean, soft sheets?”

She quirks an eyebrow, he tilts his chin and smiles.

And just like that they are themselves, again, still, always, but now with a new layer of togetherness to explore. He moistens a washcloth in the bathroom sink and tenderly cleans them both, and they curl up on the soft - if rumpled and damp - sheets together.

They do not share “I love you”s. Not tonight. Not yet. But they both feel it in the brush of the other’s fingers, taste it in the tenderness of the last kiss they share before falling asleep together.

And that is enough.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #smut #xfiles #the xfiles #mulder and scully #my fic #my writing #enough

180 notes · View notes