#gentle
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Pumpycakes 🎃♡🎃♡
#shunbun#theshunbun#kawaii#princess#pinup#potato#tato#kawaii potato#art#oc#goddess#soft#gentle#reminder#Pumpycakes#pastel#comic#gentle reminder#daily reminder#self reminder#soft reminder#patience#goth#goth gf#loving#February#2025#support#fashion#Pumpkin
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{Quotes:Nitya prakash/Richard siken ,crush}
#web weaving#gentle#words#literature#English literature#lit#classic literature#literature quotes#book quotes#books and libraries#books and literature#quote#quotation#spilled ink#typography#dark acadamia aesthetic#dark acadamia quotes#poem#poetry#academia#aesthetic#writing#light academia#light acadamia aesthetic#dark academia#dark academia aesthetic#chaotic academia#cottage academia#romaticism#richard siken
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SHY AFFECTION PROMPTS—
Walking side by side, the back of their fingers brushing—too shy to initiate hand-holding.
Teasing the tips of person B’s hair between their fingers, watching their fingers, unable to meet B’s gaze.
Subtle acts of service: opening a door for them, covering cornered edges when the other bends down to pick something up, purchasing something of the other’s interest.
”You look—uh, good. You look good.” Stammering, trying to appear confident when complimenting the other. Cue the throat clearing and avoidance of eye-contact.
Hesitant smiles and blushy cheeks.
Person A about to say something before thinking against it and closing their mouth.
Agonising slow-paced romance.
Person B sticking by person A’s side while they’re sick and stuck to bed rest, despite A’s warning of getting them sick too.
Thoughtful picnic dates.
Almost confessions.
”I care about you, and I want the best for you.”
Friends to lovers.
Looking for each other in social settings.
“You mean more to me than that.”
”Come on, we’re friends.” “Are we really?”
Angsty confessions after built up feelings being hidden.
Everyone can see it but them.
“We’re just friends!” “With how B is looking at you now? I don’t think you’re just friends.”
Starry night skies, damp grass, and deep talks about life.
B learning about A’s body insecurities and finding that it’s their favourite part of them.
Love-fuelled kisses under whispering nights.
So deeply in love that it almost makes their friends uncomfortable to witness.
Feathery forehead kisses.
Neither of them raise their voice—a love so gentle and kind that it makes your teeth rot.
Either one has social anxiety and the other orders for them at cafes and restaurants, or both of them do and one disregards their own anxiety and steps up.
Late nights cuddled up and quiet giggles.
”You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
”I want our kids to have your eyes.”
Inside jokes that literally no one understands.
#prompts#writing prompts#dialogue prompts#writing prompt#writing ideas#prompt list#writing#ideas#list#creative writing#inspiration#writing inspiration#cliche#shy prompts#shy affection prompts#shy x shy#soft love#gentle#the love we all need#slow burn#fluff#fluff prompts#distort-t
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maisy mouse library moments
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I love the idea of calling new girlies “wet” instead of having precum so much
Who cares that you haven’t had bottom surgery yet??? You’re a girl who made a mess in her panties because she’s so so horny, and what do you call that?
That’s right a wet girl!!!
#I bet some of ya reading this might be getting a bit wet too#though of course it’s harder for you new girlies#but don’t worry#we’ll teach ya#.#gentle#forcefem#i-like-talking#..#I know I already reblogged a similar post earlier!#but it felt like I was adding enough new stuff here :3
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@nymzi ♡
#cottagecore#nature#aesthetic#naturecore#flowers#flowercore#academia#books#cute#light academia#dark academia#sitting outside#mood#moodboard#mood board#gentle#cozy#kitty#cottage life
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Golly Golem
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Gentle
Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. Minors, DNI.
Notes: No physical reader descriptions, no use of y/n. Also not beta-read. Because it never is.
Length: 3.6K
Warnings: Bradley took Reader's virginity and didn't know it; Reader was an older virgin; mentions of public sex; under-negotiated kinks; wrist restraints (belt); protected sex; vaginal sex; dirty talk; rough sex; aftercare
Summary: You expect him to be so righteously angry—a pinched expression, a knit brow, a tight jaw. But there’s something in those warm, dark eyes that looks so painfully mournful.
It’s unfair. You both came. What’s he so put out about?
You’d almost prefer his anger to whatever the hell this is. Anger you could handle—but does he regret last night?
It’s a throwaway comment, one that you’re positive he’ll miss. The bar is bustling and so busy that it's a wonder he’s heard your friend crow it at all:
“To seeing you with that freshly-fucked glow for the first time!”
You aren’t scandalized by what she says. You’d told her the truth of it last night—offered sparse details and omitted names. You laugh and cheers with your friends. You’re not embarrassed by the mention, the tease.
But your insides are burning hot at the sight of Bradley in your periphery, his beer frozen halfway to his lips. You drain your drink and clear your throat, simply offering, “Getting another one,” As you push away from the table. You’re determined not to look at him as you go, praying that he just lets it pass.
But Bradley Bradshaw has never been good at just letting things go.
You’d been grateful for that last night.
There had been something zipping between the two of you all day—little looks and lingering glances that had fanned your flames, blossoming into a wildfire as he’d led you into the alley by the bar the night before. You had felt the heat of him behind you, thrilled at the scent of his cologne, the bristle and prickle of his mustache and lips against your neck as his hands had grasped your hips to still you.
You feel the heat of him as he comes to stand beside you now, smell his cologne as he sets an empty beer bottle down on the bar. Neither of you speak for a few moments. You’d hardly looked at him last night, either—pressed face-first against the brick wall of the alley, your pants around your knees with Bradley’s hand over your mouth to quiet you, his hot breath, soft groans and bitten-off swears pushed against the shell of your ear.
It's a shame, you think, that you’re locked into this pattern with Bradley. He does have the sweetest eyes.
“You should’ve told me.”
He says it just loudly enough for you to hear it over the murmur of bar noise, the conversation, rattle of cocktail shaking, and the distant strain of REO Speedwagon over the recessed speakers.
Maybe you should’ve. There had been a split-second when you considered it, but it had all happened so fast.
It wasn’t how you’d always expected it to be. There was no bed covered in rose petals, no romantic music. You’d been so caught up in your need, in the thrill of feeling Bradley as desperate for you as you were for him.
You’d decided, as you’d showered last night, felt the ache of him between your thighs, eyed the bloom of bruises on your hips and a scrape on your cheek from where you’d been pressed against the brick a little too hard, that it was okay. You didn’t need roses or romantic music. You’d just needed the ferocity that Bradley had fucked you with, and the brush of his rough, work-worn fingertips against your neglected clit, and the moan of his voice in your ear as his hips stuttered and slapped against yours.
“You didn’t ask.”
You realize as Bradley shifts testily beside you that it’s the wrong thing to say, and maybe a little unfair. You tack on, “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does. I figured—”
“I know. S'okay. Let it go, Bradshaw.” It’s unlikely, but worth a shot. If there’s one thing Bradley loves, it’s proving people wrong. You know as well as he does just how stubborn he can be, how by-the-book. But some things just nag and nag and he has to litigate them.
You can tell that this’ll be one of the things that he won’t stand for. Dog with a bone. Knight with a righteous cause.
“You should’ve told me.”
It’s his new refrain, you realize. You can’t imagine how he must’ve felt when he heard your friend, saw you laugh, waited for you to correct or argue with her. And did he notice the scratch on your cheek then? Did he think of the push of his body against yours, the quiver of your thighs as he’d stretched you wide around him, the buzz of your whimper against his fingers as he finally fucked you?
"Doesn't matter,” You insist again. “Drop it.”
“You should’ve told me—”
“Lower your voice.”
“I would’ve been more gentle.”
“I didn’t want you to be more gentle,” You snap, finally turning to meet his eye. You realize immediately that it’s a mistake. You expect him to be so righteously angry—a pinched expression, a knit brow, a tight jaw. But there’s something in those warm, dark eyes that looks so painfully mournful.
It’s unfair. You both came. What’s he so put out about?
You’d almost prefer his anger to whatever the hell this is. Anger you could handle—but does he regret last night? You sure as shit don’t.
Your jaw works tightly as you fold your arms against your chest and turn back to the bar. He can regret it all he wants, if that’s what this is.
“Anyway,” You press on, “I enjoyed myself. Thought you did, too.”
“I did—” Small wonder, “But—”
“‘But’ nothing, Bradshaw. We both had a good time. Just…Forget it.”
You hear Bradley draw in a deep breath before his hand lightly comes down on the bar. When he curses this time, it doesn’t make your stomach flip with excitement. It just pisses you off.
--
“Get in.”
Your annoyance has cooled and shifted to nerves. You glance around the parking lot, openly unsure. You can get a car to take you home. It could be there in two minutes, have you home in twenty.
Bradley stands still as a statue, hand holding open the passenger side door as he waits. It wasn’t a question like he’d asked last night—”Wanna take a walk?” It isn’t a murmur accompanied by a warm hand on your lower back, steering you away from the thudding bass of the bar, from your friends as your stomach fluttered with anticipation.
It’s an order, one that you’re tempted to disobey.
But you climb into the Bronco and buckle up. You look straight through the windshield as he gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car. The drive is quiet, and does nothing to calm your nerves. Once Bradley parks, he just warns, “Don’t,” when you reach for the door handle. You expect him to launch into a lecture, but he gets out, rounding the car and opening the door for you.
He’s practically your shadow as he follows you to the front door. You step aside once it’s open, unsure if Bradley will turn and head home, his self-appointed duty done. But he steps inside, shrugging his jacket off and throwing it over the back of your couch. He’s been there once or twice, but he still takes his time looking around as you lock up behind him and take off your shoes.
“Shoes off, Bradshaw.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You want something to drink?” You ask, stepping past him.
“Water.”
“You hungry?”
“No.”
You nod, flipping on the light in your kitchen and grabbing a couple of glasses for the two of you. You can hear Bradley's footsteps as he drifts lazily through your living room, joining you in the kitchen and taking the proffered glass of water with a murmur of thanks. The two of you sip in silence for a few moments.
“Maybe I should’ve—” You start, then back off as you feel Bradley turning to look at you. You take another gulp of your water. “There just didn’t seem like the right moment to mention it. And bringing it up—it all would’ve felt like a bigger deal. I didn’t want that.”
“Could’ve told me afterward.”
“We were more focused on getting back to the others.”
“You tell ‘em it was me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s none of their business. Besides, they wouldn't care—and they didn’t ask.”
“Seems to be your answer for everything these days.”
You roll your eyes, setting your empty water glass in the sink.
“Okay. You bring me home just to scold me?”
“No.”
Bradley steps closer, lowering his water glass into the sink beside yours. You watch his hand lift. Your eyelashes flutter as he cups your jaw, turning your head toward him, his thumb sweeping gently across your skin.
“Look at me.” He orders. Your focus sweeps up slowly, mapping the swell of his lips, the scattering of scars, the line of his nose before your eyes finally settle on his. He’s devoid of anger, still, and the sorrow is gone. Bradley’s expression seems deceptively neutral, and that’s far more concerning than any look he’s given you before.
“Where’s your room.”
--
There still aren’t any roses, but at least there’s a real bed this time. Bradley doesn’t guide you face-first into one of your walls or against the door. He keeps a firm grasp on your jaw as his tongue slips between your lips. You wind your arms around his shoulders, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck.
You try to urge him back toward the bed, but Bradley slides a hand down to your throat, giving it a warning little squeeze that makes you melt. You smooth one of your hands down his front, fingers skating along the cool metal of his belt buckle. Before you can undo it, Bradley catches hold of your wrist. He breaks your kiss, using the grasp on your throat to tip your head up to the side, and smoothing his lips along the exposed skin.
“Slow down,” He murmurs against your jaw, the buzz of it tickling your skin.
“But—”
“Slow down.” It’s firmer now, and you have to tamp down a grin. You know what that tone is like from Bradley. You’re certain you can wind up face-first on your bed if you play your cards right.
You just have to piss him off a little.
You wriggle your wrist from his grasp, tipping your head down against the press of his hand, desperate to catch sight of his belt buckle as you fumble for it with both hands. You hear the short, irritated huff of Bradley’s breath before he catches both of your wrists in one hand. Your mouth waters at the clank of his buckle being undne as he gives your wrists a squeeze and shoves them away from him.
“Take your clothes off,” He orders. “All of them.”
There’s steel in his voice now. You begin to turn, your hands curling around the hem of your shirt when you hear him tut.
“Face me.”
Your face burns hot as you go still. Bradley’s expression is flat again: mirthless eyes, and a firm press to his lips. You tug your shirt up and over your head, undo your bra, then shove down your pants and underwear.
“Get on the bed.”
You sit, and wait.
“Lie down.”
You should scooch back toward your headboard, but instead, you flop down where you are, feet still on the floor. You yelp as Bradley lands a slap on your outer thigh.
“Don’t play dumb,” He warns. “Go on.”
You finally slide back, watching Bradley undress and fish a foil packet out of his back pocket. You eye his body covetously as he walks closer, climbing over you and straddling your hips, tossing the condom by your pillow.
“Hands up.”
You raise them obediently, holding perfectly still and hardly breathing as he loops the belt around your wrists. He holds your eye as he winds the belt around your wrists and the bedposts, a single brow raised. You can call it off now—you know he'll unwind it, pull back, stop.
When you nod, Bradley tightens it, the leather biting into your skin.
You want what he gave you in the alley—the rush, his force, his ferocity and bruises. But Bradley kneels on the bed in front of you, curling his hands around your ankles, skimming them up slowly. You squirm, feeling exposed and vulnerable as his hands slip over your thighs, up across your belly.
“Bradley—”
“Hush.”
You suck in a soft breath as his fingers smooth over your sides, pressure just firm enough to keep from tickling you. His head dips, kissing over your belly, up to the underside of one of your breasts. You try to arch into his lips as he leans further up.
“Please,” You whine, but his tongue sweeps between your lips before you can say another word. You wilt back against the bed, your fingers curling and flexing around one another as your wrists strain against the belt, the buckle clanking against the bed frame. You want nothing more than to grasp and pull his hair, feel the slide of the strands against your skin.
“But—” You breathe as he breaks the kiss.
“Shuddup.” It buzzes against your skin as his kisses travel back down, sucking at each nipple, sweeping past your belly button as his shoulders push your thighs wide. You pull in a shocked breath as his hot breath skates across your pussy, chased by the teasing flicker of the tip of his tongue. You whimper, chasing the slick heat before Bradley’s hands curl around your hips. You open your mouth to complain again—but it dies on your tongue as Bradley laps broadly across your lips. He buries your face between your thighs, moaning lustfully against your slick skin. Your nails dig into your palms at the rattle of his groan shakes through you.
You whine, knees tightening around his shoulders as you shove your hips down against his lips. And though you’d expected him to reprimand you, Bradley’s hand slides up between your thighs, fingers teasing at your pussy. It’s only a moment before he slips one inside, curling it before adding another. You huff softly, cunt squeezing around him as his fingers pumping in and out—and in and out again as your hips chase his manic rhythm.
Your wrists yank against the belt, hips bounding as you chase the curl and snap of your orgasm, Bradley’s name falling from your lips as your pussy rolls against his tongue. He hums, lapping at your pleasure as your cunt clutches at his fingers. Your voice quiets as you settle, cunt pulsing as Bradley nuzzles your thigh, lightly nipping at the skin and slickly soothing it as your movements slow.
As you come back to yourself, you can’t deny the thrill of catching Bradley’s eye—the heat of it as he peers over your belly; the sly glint as he laves his tongue back and forth, fingers curling in your still-pulsing opening. You part your lips, waggling your tongue and grinning as Bradley surges up.
You whimper as you taste your arousal on his tongue, shiver as his fingers withdraw and his cock twitches against your inner thigh. Your hips tip up on instinct, chasing the heat as Bradley’s length twitches against you. He reels back just far enough to grab the foil packet by your head, ripping it open with his teeth, and sheathing his cock in the latex.
“Please,” You mumble before he can ask or tease, “Please—Need it, Bradley, I—Oh, fuck,” You gasp as he drives into you with a single stroke. Your pussy clutches at him, your nails digging into the leather of the belt as you push your hips up into his. Bradley’s hands land on either side of your head, flexing in the fabric of your pillow case as he holds himself steadily over you.
“Shuddup,” He groans again—But my god, it’s a tighter sound than it was before, and it makes your pussy grasp at him as his face presses into your neck.
“Bradley–”
“Quiet—”
“I need it,” You whimper, shoving your hips up against his, “Fuck, you feel so—Mm, Bradley, please—”
“Just—”
“I want more, Bradley, ‘m so—”
You gag at the sudden intrusion of two fingers sliding between your lips. Your mouth falls open, eyes glazing and tongue laving against the rough pads of his fingertips as they rub over your tongue.
You let your jaw go slack, whines spiraling from between your lips as he finger-fucks your mouth, hips slapping against yours in tandem. Your toes curl in the fabric of your sheets, wrists yanking against your restraints. Bradley plants his knees against the mattress, his hips slamming against yours as the headboard rattles against your wall. You wind one of your legs around his, sucking in a breath as his free hand grasps and squeezes your thigh.
Bradley pushes his face into your neck, fingers slipping from your mouth to hold your hips. You can’t fight the way your voice stutters in his throat at the slow, concentrated roll of his body against yours. You try to push against him, to urge and speed his pace, but Bradley seems to neither hear nor feel your urging and whines.
It’s no use. Bradley’s grasp keeps you pinned in place, the slow grind of his hips drawing your orgasm nearer and nearer.
“That’s it,” He encourages against your jaw. He groans as your cunt pulses around him, your hips bucking as your back arches.
“Faster,” You breathe, then gasp as his strokes slow and deepen. Your eyes slip closed, pressing your head back against the pillow as your push your body up against his. You shiver, knees squeezing around his hips as the coil of pleasure in your belly tightens.
“Look at me,” He urges, hand lifting to curl around your jaw. Your head flops like a ragdoll’s, eyes blinking blearily up at him. Your heart stuttering in your chest at the heated focus on his face—the parted, panting lips, and the way his dark eyes skate from your mouth to your slightly unfocused gaze. He tuts when your eyelashes flutter, giving your jaw a squeeze before you can close them.
“Ah ah. Eyes on me, baby,” Bradley orders. “Show me how bad you want it—Show me,” He repeats as my mouth falls open to insist, “Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna hear another fucking word. You’ll take what I give you,” He growls, “And when you’ve cum, you’ll fucking thank me for it.”
Your eyes roll back into your head as you buck up against Bradley, mouth falling open in a stunned, guttural shout as you cum, cunt pulsing around his cock. Bradley curses, dipping his head and laying a bite on your shoulder as his hips continue to grind slowly and steadily, fucking you slowly through your orgasm.
You wait for him to follow, to tip over the edge, but Bradley’s hips don’t stutter and slow like they did last night. Instead, his fingers slip between the two of you, teasing over your tender, swollen clit as his tongue sweeps across the freshly laid bite mark. You hiss in a shocked breath, hips bucking up into his rough touch.
“Br-Bradley—”
“Gimme another one.”
--
Your hands slowly slip down to rest over your head as Bradley unwinds the belt from your wrists, dropping it across his other clothes where they were discarded by the bed. You sigh contentedly as you feel the bed dip and shift beneath you, and hear the soft pad of his footsteps as he leaves the room.
You know that you should move your arms, get some blood back into them, check your wrists, but for a few moments, you just lay there and let your body settle. Your cunt still pulses from the slow, sensual rolls of Bradley's hips, the sure and even way that he’d fucked you through another two orgasms before finally coming undone himself. You draw your knees together, shivering again as you squeeze your slick thighs together.
“Here,” You hear. Your head lolls to the side, eyes blinking open as Bradley sets a glass of water down on the bedside table. Before you can try and push yourself up, Bradley sits beside you, hooking his arms around your back and helping you slowly sit up. Your head swims a little, and Bradley shushes you softly as you close your eyes to stop your head from pounding, resting your head forward onto his shoulder.
“Y’alright?”
“I think so,” You mumble.
“Give it a minute.”
“Mm.” You lean back against the headboard, eyes still closed as Bradley’s hands gently brush over your quivering thighs. “I should get cleaned up.”
“We will,” He says. “Water's heating up for the bath.”
You peek open one eye, brow raising in surprise. We, huh? But Bradley holds your eyes steadily, unflinching as he picks the water up and holds it out. Your arms throb slightly as you lift them to take the cup, drawing in a sip, then a gulp.
“Slow down,” He chuckles.
“Mmm. That again?” You ask, passing back the glass. “All I got tonight was slow.”
Bradley sets the glass aside, scooching closer and nudging his nose against yours. He searches your gaze for a moment before his eyes dip to your lips.
“You deserve slow,” He murmurs, “You deserve thorough. And one’a these days, I’m gonna teach you,” His lips ghost yours, “How good gentle can be.”
“That’s not what tonight was?”
“With a belt around your wrists? No, baby,” He chuckled. “That’s not what tonight was.” He leans away, grinning as you lean up, lips chasing his. “I’ll go check on the bath. Finish that water.”
“Yessir.” You watch him get up, swiping your tongue over your lips. “Bradley?”
He turns, brows raised expectantly, and smiling when he sees you reaching for him. He leans back in when you smooth your hand over his neck, submitting to the soft, searching kiss that you pull him in for.
“For the record," You tip your head back, "You were exactly what I wanted—last night and tonight."
Relief flickers in his warm eyes, lips quirking in a slight smile as he covers his mouth with yours again.
"For the record," He murmurs. "You're gonna like gentle."
"I know I'm gonna like it," You insist, leaning back against the headboard, "Long as it's with you."
Tag list:
@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ;
@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ;
@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ;
@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ;
@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 @nominalnebula
#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x You#Bradley Bradshaw x Reader#Bradley Bradshaw x You#Gentle
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Potato mum 💕
#shunbun#theshunbun#kawaii#princess#pinup#potato#tato#kawaii potato#art#oc#goddess#soft#gentle#reminder#shun#pastel#comic#gentle reminder#daily reminder#self reminder#soft reminder#patience#goth#goth gf#loving#February#2025#support#fashion#pink hair
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If one day I get an anti-stress 3D printed spider with moving parts that is unexpectedly perfect for the references of one particular character, I will not tell anyone, but there will be signs.
#bg3#baldurs gate 3#bg3 fanart#karniss#drider#I never thought that a toy could inspire me#>w<#please hold your spiders right#gentle#like a hamburger
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꧁★꧂
#angel#angel score#sound#emotions#rest#gentle#listen#text#heart#stars#pink#cute#kawaii#flickr#oldweb#old web#2006
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POV: You married a generous, gentle, provider man
#feminine dating#providers#provider men#provider men only#hypergamy#soft life#feminine#femininity#marriage#black women#relationships#couple#generous#gentle#gentleman#masculine man#healthy masculinity#polarity#relationship dynamics#gender roles#soft black women#soft girl#feminine masculine polarity
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