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envy-of-the-apple · 4 months ago

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The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all.

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound.

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge.

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em."

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket.

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man.

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead.

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?”

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer.

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand.

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated.

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous.

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up.

They’re sugar-free.

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor.

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?”

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through.

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?”

You blink.

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.”

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard.

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger.

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor.

You gape. The man grins.

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical."

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless.

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps."

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you.

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?"

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you."

You shrink back.

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes.

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World."

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?"

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass.

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room."

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger.

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact.

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds.

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind.

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you.

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch."

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him.

"I said I believed you."

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying.

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you.

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs.

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive."

You pale at that. He notices.

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done."

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open.

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?"

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him.

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?"

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment."

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse.

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you?

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing."

The man leans in.

"What's your name?"

He smiles.

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition.

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him.

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists.

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!"

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin.

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway.

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful.

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you.

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing."

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care.

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this.

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided.

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.”

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?”

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop.

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off.

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response.

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.”

"Miyashiro?”

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before.

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.”

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?”

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures.

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together.

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant.

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy.

Nice. Just nice.

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his.

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry.

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about.

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in.

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking.

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people.

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it.

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen.

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling.

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-"

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off.

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation.

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much."

"I could eat," he says.

You smile.

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food.

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite.

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn."

You laugh out of nerves.

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself.

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle.

You're on your last bite when he speaks again.

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like."

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now.

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say.

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky.

"I think I'd like that."

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning.

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on?

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength."

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses.

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..."

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you."

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking.

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs.

You frown. "That's not very descriptive."

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies."

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting."

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu."

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?"

"Did it work?"

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see."

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom.

"You're blurry from far away."

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place.

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you."

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are.

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth.

"What do you see, Gojo?"

"Everything." He honestly replies.

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again.

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others.

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you.

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you.

"What do you see, Satoru?"

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how.

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile.

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants.

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping.

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long.

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask.

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter.

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking.

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?"

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?"

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined.

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling.

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas."

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one."

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask.

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant."

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?"

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along."

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here."

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?"

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours.

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human."

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him.

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone.

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat.

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again.

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy."

You stare at him.

"What?."

He grins, but it's not his usual one.

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention.

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are."

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes.

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you."

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then-

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie."

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed.

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you."

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you."

You scoff.

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit."

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that.

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking.

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance.

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall.

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right.

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway.

Ijichi gives a tight grin.

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-"

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking.

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know."

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers.

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't.

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was-

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him?

What was going to happen to you?

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back.

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him.

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river.

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous?

He calls your name, your real name, and you break.

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face.

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold.

He's warm.

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask.

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband.

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house.

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb."

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken.

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would."

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru.

"I'm sorry," you say.

He laughs. "For what?"

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment.

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones."

His tone gets a bit playful.

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you."

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you.

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again."

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?"

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face.

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided.

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says.

You glance at him. He's watching the screen.

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms."

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you.

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says.

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you.

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him.

He gives a secret grin.

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping.

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up.

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him.

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all.

It's just...strange.

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf.

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages.

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at.

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back.

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back.

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over."

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you.

"No," he says, "my caretakers."

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph.

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls."

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh.

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?"

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions."

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer."

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades.

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all."

You stare at him. He catches you.

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?"

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person."

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out.

This again. You roll your eyes.

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know."

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice.

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues.

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit.

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things.

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight.

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless.

At first, you think Satoru's hurt.

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching.

Pretty, blue, laced panties.

Your panties.

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again.

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp.

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards.

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move.

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back.

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty.

Monstrous.

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second.

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking.

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short.

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him.

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom.

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back.

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely.

You wake up alone the next morning.

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock.

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken.

A black dot stares back at you.

A camera.

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone.

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there.

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too.

It's easy to leave.

You stop anyway. One question.

Where would you go?

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed.

You'd die if you went back home.

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses.

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns.

At least, you know what Satoru wants.

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions.

Two things can be right at once.

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know.

Your hand falls away from the doorknob.

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom.

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes.

Blank. Numb. Empty.

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear.

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then.

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore.

“What do you see, Satoru?”

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath.

“Nothing but you.”

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #yandere gojo satoru #yandere x reader #dark gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere jjk x reader #dark jjk x reader #minor character death

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thecharacterchronicler · 6 months ago

Text

Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

Next in this series;

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hereforthehitsbaby · 19 days ago

Note

prompt 16 with Logan on the fluff list! thinking that their messing around and reader accidentally confesses and it’s a toooootal love bomb after that

Confession | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.7k…did I get carried away? Yes.

Author’s Note: Okay but why am I sobbing at my own writing? This request was so cute, thank you for this nonie!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Wade when I said we should watch The Wizard of Oz, I didn’t mean that you need to dress up as Dorothy and act out the entire movie!” You exclaimed in the living room, trying your hardest to suppress a laugh as Wade twirls in front of the couch. The blue and white checkered dress swirled in the air as he spun, arms wide out as he threw his head back. In the background, droning on was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” to which Wade decided it was the perfect time to lip sync. Days like this are what you cherished most, especially when things were a bit shit all around. The world wasn’t as safe as it used to be, but in this little apartment – it was comfort. Solace, everything you all needed to wait out the storm down below.

“You may not have wanted that, but they did.” Wade lets out nonchalantly, whispering the last part at the brick wall, causing you to look around him. Every so often he would stare off into a hidden camera, like it was The Office, speaking to the “audience” about what was going on. At first it was funny, charming even – but when it got to be quips about you, it was almost instinctive how you needed to roll your eyes. Now? It was just another thing about Wade you admired, how he could keep himself entertained like this and forget how things were outside, there was no judgement but pure love and laughter. Shaking your head with a smile, you sigh out as you stand from the couch, stretching your back. “Whatever you say, Wade.” As you felt your tailbone crack, you smiled softly at the release. It felt nice to get up and walk, to stretch out a bit before engaging more with Wade’s antics of today. It was endearing to see him doing this – you knew everything was getting to him as well, and you both needed a good laugh. What you silently hoped for though, was for Logan to join the two of you.

It was obvious your feelings for him, Wade called that out the second you both first met. The way your eyes went from thin slits of weariness to full blown hearts was enough to make his head spin – Logan on the other hand seemed to have no effect. But that’s what he wanted you to think. It had been months since your apartment flooded, causing you to move two floors up with Wade, Logan, Laura and Al. But it had been the best months of your life, creating new friendships and hoping to blossom out of the awkward phase with Logan. A stoic, quiet man who truly needed this – needed a friend – needed to know he was loved. You wanted to help him with that, if only you could get over this little hump of self-doubt. It was a silent battle you faced internally; Rejection scared you and hurt more than anything else – but you’d respect the decision if it happened. The struggle was the worst part of it, how it ate you alive. Wade would always try to help quell it but alas, your mind could be very fickle.

As you made your way into the kitchen, you rounded the counter, back facing towards the living room as you hummed along with the song. Lost in your own little world, you didn’t notice when the bedroom door to the left started to slowly open, your head down to face the coffee maker as you stuck your mug underneath, using the hot water for your tea. It wasn’t until you saw something sparkling out of the corner of your eye that it caught your attention. You knew Mary Puppins had a flashy little get up, since Wade spent four days bedazzling her suit, but then you remembered Laura had taken her out for a walk a few minutes prior. Cocking your brow, you turn slowly to see what that shine is – not expecting to see what you did. “Holy shit,” you mumble out, your eyes shooting wide open. There was no proper way to react except shocked, your body freezing at the sight.

Logan was home after all, hiding away in his room. But what you didn’t realize was that Wade had gotten him to dress up for the movie. Standing there in his gray and black flannel, gray sweatpants, and white socks was your Logan – face covered in silver face paint, sparkling against the orange hued lighting of the kitchen. You stopped to stare at him, admiration making your heart grow as Wade let out a dramatic gasp, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. “Robocop has arrived!” Wade cheered, hoping over the back of the couch and standing on the opposite side of the kitchen. At the comment, Logan growled in Wade’s direction, sending him straight daggers. “Don’t give me that look, Pookie. You know what you signed up for.”

Logan could help but groan as his gaze shifted back towards you; The silvery color making his eyes glow brighter than usual. A soft green, like a meadow on a cloudy day always stared back at you. But today, it was Emerald City. The glints of golden flecks and little silvery tendrils drifted through his irises, causing your heart to race. You didn’t mean to gaze so deeply into his eyes, finding your own eyes losing focus the further you delved in. You couldn’t tell but Logan’s heart was racing a mile a minute under his shirt, his claws quivering inside his hand. “You’re taking shine bright like a diamond to a whole new level, Lo.” You let a bright smile cascade over your lips as you looked up at him, tilting your head to the side to admire his application skills. Under all the silver you could see a gentle pink blush creeping up his neck, fanning over the little exposed patch of skin beneath his flannel. It wasn’t everyday that Logan blushed – but with you, he couldn’t stop. Even at your teasing, he was a mess.

“His idea.” Logan snickered as he pointed to Wade. “Dipshit told me we were all dressing up as characters.” Of course he did, because that is just how Wade is. He always says one thing, then never tells anyone else. In a way you knew he said it for you, knowing this was your favorite movie and all. To have Logan dress up like the tinman was all for you. A simple admission you made not too long ago about how he was your childhood crush; Convincing Logan to dress up as him only seemed right. Wade could tell you both were mutually pining over one another, and he was tired of the will they won’t they. All he knew was that he wanted his two best friends to be together, to be happy; He knew you’d be good for one another. Wade blew Logan a kiss as he spun in his dress, twirling his way through the kitchen and living room.

“Wade you dirty dog.” You laugh as you roll your eyes, shifting your focus back to your now freshly brewed tea. Taking the mug away from the coffee machine, you bit your bottom lip as you giggled, nudging Logan with your shoulder. “When we need a disco ball for Al’s 70th birthday, we will just strap you to the ceiling and spin you.” You winked in his direction as you slightly raised a brow, indicating that you were joking, but also being a tease. Logan liked when you did that, finding it invigorating how his heart would pound out of his chest. A hearty, sincere laugh slipped from his silvery lips as he narrowed his gaze. Leaning against the countertop, Logan crossed his arms over his eyes, his lips turning up into a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah? You think so, beautiful?” He let out without question, tilting his head to the side as he eyed you up and down. He could hear, smell, how hard your heart was racing as he leaned closer, how your palms grew clammy, how your body shivered under his gaze. There was something so primal clawing its way beneath his skin; He wanted all of you, to be the only one to make you feel this way. “I know so!” You shot back without hesitation, trying to keep your cool.

Logan thought it was cute, how hard you were trying to fight yourself off. Trying so hard not to spill the beans or say what was on your mind. It was a game of hardball, and Logan was going to come out on top like always. Huffing with amusement, he placed his hand softly on your shoulder, letting his wade palm graze down your arm, fingers drifting over the expanse of your wrist. Leaning closer to you, only a hairsbreadth away, Logan whispered as he held your hand lovingly. “Well what if I…” You were so entranced with how he was coming onto you, months of tension finally reaching its peak as the knife cut through it, releasing that hold on you. Closing your eyes as you prepped yourself for what he was about to do next, you pursed your lips instinctively, waiting to feel him on you. Alas, that never came.

In a singular second, Logan roughly pulled you close to him as he rubbed his face all over yours. The burn of his beard across your cheeks made you yelp out, the slippery feel of the face paint flowing over your skin made you laugh. A fit of giggles and playful pushing ignited the room, filtering out the sound of Mary Puppins and Laura coming back from their walk. You couldn’t breathe from how hard you were laughing, trying to muster up the energy to speak as Logan held you close to him. Though you felt his touch burning through your clothes, not one of a friendly nature but one of pure passion. The way he gripped your hip with one hand, and the side of your neck with the other. The way his face slid over yours, it was pure love. Your mind was reeling with endless thoughts of what it would be like to be in love with Logan, never realizing how you spoke aloud. “Ohmygod, I’m in love with an adult man-child.” The words fell out before you had anytime to think about it, not realizing what you had said as you fought yourself through the giggle fit. You didn’t realize what had come out, until Logan stopped.

The tension in the air was palpable, your heart pounding in your ears as you caught your breath. Logan stopped the ministrations on your face, his grip to your neck and hip growing harder, steadier as his breathing picked up. “In love!?” Wade and Laura yelled out from the living room, Mary Puppins gave a little bark as well. In that moment you stopped, your eyes growing wide as you panned upwards. “In love?” Logan asks, his eyes turning from a vibrant green shade to mocha, his pupils blackened. Meeting his gaze, you swallowed back the words I’m kidding, because in reality you were not. It was out there now, there was no taking it back even if you had tried. There wasn’t anything that would make this moment easier to digest, it was all or nothing. “Shit.” That was your only response. The movie in the background grew quiet. Laura, Wade, and Mary Puppins stared at you with wide eyes, trying to process it themselves. Al on the other hand sat by the open window and laughed, keeping his head towards the street below.

All you wanted to do was run; Fight or flight kicking in made you want to scream. It wasn’t the way you announced it that made you scared, nor nervous – but how Logan was staring at you. His once playful demeanor was now clouded with something unreadable, enough to make tears well in your eyes. At the end of the day, if he didn’t feel the same there were no hard feelings, and you both could live with that. But right now, you wanted to be alone, to calm down from the panic rising in your chest. “No, no running away.” Logan whispered for you, and you only. His hardened grip on your neck moved to gently hold your face, his thumb sweeping against your cheek. He could see the fear in your eyes, the unknowing – he wanted to settle that for you. Logan leaned forth to press his forehead against yours. The switch of Logan gave you whiplash; Usually he wasn’t this affectionate with his actions, always keeping to himself, not thinking himself worthy of love. But today, that all changed. “Sweetheart…do you mean that?” Logan’s voice broke slightly as he asked, his own eyes welling with tears.

“Of course she does! She’s in lov-“ Wade began, not even giving you a second to explain yourself. Logan grew tense at hearing him speak. He never pushed his face away from yours as he growled out into the room. “Shut the fuck up!” A shiver ran down your spine at the dominance in his voice, your hands instinctively going out to hold onto his hip as you steadied your breathing. “Ohhh my god,” was all Wade could respond with as he sunk back into the couch, Laura holding her hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t say anything more. It was now or never; Forever hold your peace or tell Logan how you really felt and see where it led from there. Taking a deep breath, you nodded against Logan’s forehead, a shaky breath exhaling from your parted lips. “I do.” The words felt right coming out, there was no line of awkwardness or reluctance to them. It was the truth, and now it was known.

You refused to open your eyes as stare at Logan, hearing the deep inhalation he made at your comment. You knew if you opened your eyes tears would fall, and you were not about to have that. Nothing came to mind on what you could say, nor could you move from where you were planted. Internally you begged someone to say something, to break the silence. Logan must’ve heard your internal thoughts. “Finally, didn’t know how long we were going to play that game, sweetheart.” Logan let out, causing you to open your eyes. He extended himself to his full height as he held your face, peering down into your soul with a genuine, loving smile. It was in that moment his words fully clicked inside of your brain, the mutual pining was over. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. I could tell you were too, but I didn’t want to come on too strong, if you weren’t ready. I wanted it to be on your terms, when you felt it was right.” Logan’s word held you tightly, holding you close to show you just how loved you are, how cherished you are, how appreciated you are. You could tell Logan had more he wanted to say but, actions speak louder than words.

Surging forth, you pressed your lips lovingly against Logan, feeling how the world faded around you. The dull, orange lighting of the kitchen burnt out around you. The hum of the coffee maker, fridge, and lights became silent. The only thing that could be heart was your heartbeats, merging into one. Around you swirled endless love and possibilities, flecks of the brightest yellows and blues flowing out like clockwork, binding you two together. This feels so right. Everything felt so right. Logan felt so right. Nothing in life ever felt like this, nothing ever felt meant to be. Only now did you realize, the love you have been waiting your entire life for, finally arrived. In the form of Logan Howlett, The Wolverine. Your hero.

-----

Hugh Jackman Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo

Logan Howlett Taglist: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444

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roosterforme · 1 month ago

Text

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 28 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As your school year fades into summer break, your wedding day approaches. Before your fourth graders move to fifth grade, you and Bradley invite the pen pals along for the big day.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, Bradley being husband material, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

That summer...

"The best part about our wedding venue is that it's free," you whispered. "The worst part is that we had to clean it ourselves."

"Agreed," Bradley replied with a groan.

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally, and now you were sprawled out mostly on top of Bradley on the living room couch which was too small even for him alone. His big hand was heavy where it rested on your back, and his voice was a deep rumble in his chest.

"But on Saturday, we'll be married. So it's worth it."

His words warmed you as you snuggled a little closer. Both of you could use a shower after the day you had, but you didn't even make it that far yet. As soon as you walked inside, this is where you ended up. You were expecting his stomach to start growling at any moment, and you were prepared to make some sandwiches when necessary.

"It was nice of Nat, Marty and Ruby to help us get things ready," you told him with a yawn.

In a shocking turn of events, Marty and Ruby got married over spring break in Las Vegas after going on just six dates. Actually, when you considered that they probably fell in love the day they met, it wasn't that shocking at all. People told you all the time they were surprised you were marrying Bradley a year after you blindly mailed a box to an unknown Naval aviator, but to you, it all felt exactly right.

"Marty was like a wizard with that scrub brush today. I don't think there's anything he can't do," Bradley said, mirroring your yawn with one of his own. "Are all of your kiddos coming on Saturday?"

"Mmm... most of them, yeah. And don't forget, you have to drive Edith up with you."

"I won't forget. She's a pretty integral part to our day, Gorgeous," he muttered, and sure enough his stomach began to rumble. "Damn, I was hoping I'd make it to the shower with you first." He gave your rear end a squeeze. "I haven't seen you naked since this morning."

You groaned and started to ease your body away from him and stood. "You'll see plenty of that when we're in Paris."

"I better," he replied, one eyebrow cocked as he examined you in your filthy old jeans and one of his ratty undershirts. "You look damn good, Mrs. Bradshaw. You'll need a new name tag for your classroom door when school starts in August."

Your fingers dragged through his wavy hair before tracing the scars on his cheek. "If I change my name." A little pout appeared on his lips, and you leaned down to kiss it away. "Come on and have a sandwich before we get cleaned up, Handsome."

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

Bradley had much less responsibility on Saturday than you did. He had to put on his dress whites, fix his hair, and drive Edith up to Mira Mesa with him. You on the other hand left with Natasha first thing in the morning after demanding Bradley not even look at you. Apparently that was bad luck, but he'd already been watching you sleep peacefully when he woke around dawn before falling asleep again.

He wasn't exactly nervous about the wedding, but he was a little anxious. He wanted to get married and settle into things before your school year started. And before he left again for deployment. You always seemed to have more patience for his career than he did, but he wanted to be selfish and have some time at home while he was still a newlywed. And that didn't even account for the upcoming week in Paris.

While he was in the bathroom, running his fingers through his damp hair, Bradley examined his freshly shaven cheeks. Sometimes he forgot about his facial scars. You always looked at him like he was flawless, and now it rarely occurred to him to be overly self conscious about it. But they were there, and you had kissed all over them last night before bed while you teased him about what you wrote for your wedding vows.

He didn't bother to write his down. What would be the point in that? He could hardly ever shut up about how much he loved you, so he would just say what was on his mind when the time came. The ceremony was going to be quick anyway since Marty was officiating. Bradley could tell the reserved, older man only agreed to do it for the sake of friendship, and you told him he could keep it very short.

As he pulled his white uniform on, Bradley smiled, knowing he'd have you back in bed this evening before leaving insanely early to go to the airport in the morning. When be was all set, he grabbed the wedding bands from the dresser, and headed over to get Edith.

She was wearing a purple dress and had her sheet music with her, and Bradley realized that other than Nat, she was the closest thing to a family member that he would have with him today. "Thanks for coming up to Mira Mesa, Edith," he said, opening the passenger door of his Bronco for her.

She looked delighted. "It's my pleasure. I'm just so pleased you asked me to be there. And you look so handsome, Bradley. And very happy."

He was happy. So fucking happy. And that was the bottom line. He was too busy being happy to think about his scars or worry about reading his wedding vows from a piece of paper. He fell in love with you through notes, emails and letters, but today he was going off script.

"I am happy, Edith. Happier than I ever expected to be."

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

"God, you look like a dream," Natasha gushed, fluffing out the bottom of your simple wedding dress before adjusting the straps along your shoulders. "Your makeup is beautiful, and your hair is perfect. Bradley is going to piss his pants when he sees you."

"Hopefully not while he's in his dress whites," you replied, making her crack up while she took a step back to inspect you one last time.

She planted her hands on her hips in her cute, green dress. "This is going to be the perfect wedding. A quick ceremony followed by spaghetti and meatballs catered from the best restaurant in San Diego. This is how everyone should get married."

"I told Marty the ceremony needs to be quick, because Bradley's stomach will growl the whole time otherwise. I don't like it when he has to go too long without eating," you murmured, looking down at the fabric that cascaded along your new shoes. When you looked up again, Natasha was leaning with one shoulder against the brick exterior of your elementary school and wiping tears from her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whispered, shaking her head and sniffing. "It's just that you get him. You understand him." She took a deep breath and added, "Bradley seems big and boisterous, but he's actually really sensitive. And he needs someone to look after him and make sure he eats enough. That's the kind of shit he needs. Not someone who is always mad at him for having feelings. He needs you, because you love him back as much as he loves you."

"Natasha," you gasped, reaching for her as tears stung your eyes. She had known Bradley for so many years, and her words made your heart swell with even more happiness. "I do love him. So much," you whispered as she squeezed you tight.

Then you heard the sound of a piano playing in the distance and knew you needed to start walking toward the playground. "Take care of him. And let him take care of you," Natasha said.

She wiped her tears on her sleeve as she gently guided you across the asphalt and handed you a bouquet of flowers. Your wedding vows were folded up into a paper airplane amongst the blooms that came from the florist Bradley used for your surprise bouquet when he was last deployed. Your heart beat a little faster as Natasha headed away from you and turned at the corner of the building, and then it was your turn to start walking.

The first thing you saw was the parking lot where Bradley's Bronco sat next to the Salvatore's catering van. Then the small, outdoor lunch pavilion came into view, which Ruby spent the morning decorating with fresh flowers, paper airplanes, and the fanciest disposable tableware you could find. Then you saw all of the kids from your class last year, and you smiled as they all waved and shouted your name.

But when you finally saw the playground equipment, Bradley was standing there in his dress whites surrounded by his friends and your friends and Maverick and Ruby. And his smile was so bright as you ran to him while Edith played the piano in the auditorium with all the windows open. It was a medley of love songs, but none of them compared to the love you felt when you were in Bradley's arms.

"Hey, Gorgeous," he whispered, scooping you up when you reached him, crushing the flowers between your body and his. "You look so pretty."

His dress whites were a bit scratchy against your skin, and this was the only time you'd seen him wearing them other than that one night last month that turned into some role playing after he tried them on. He always took your breath away. Since the first moment he wrote back to your letter, you just wanted more of him. You couldn't help but kiss him.

"Oh no!" Violet gasped. "You're supposed to do that at the end!"

Bradley laughed against your lips, and you turned your head to really take a good look at all the kids. They were all there with parents, some of whom had been at Career Day. And they were dressed up and looked adorable. You were going to miss them next year when they were in fifth grade.

"I promise we'll do it again at the end," Bradley laughed, his voice a deep rumble against your palm.

Then the piano music came to a stop, and Edith came shuffling outside as Marty introduced himself to everyone.

"I'm sure the kids all remember you, Marty," you assured him. "You were the coolest adult at Career Day."

"Hey," Bradley complained as he tried to straighten out your flowers.

"I meant second coolest adult at Career Day," you amended, and now both Marty and Bradley were smiling.

"Well, regardless, you told me to keep this quick," Marty said. You could already smell the spaghetti and knew for sure Bradley was hungry. "So quick it shall be." He cleared his throat and said, "I'm pretty sure I knew Lieutenant Bradshaw was in love before he knew it himself. I've overlapped with him on several deployments over the past eight years, and he always seemed a little bit lonely." You laced your fingers with Bradley's and leaned against his shoulder as Marty continued. "Until last year when he asked for my permission to take some photos and videos of me working on an engine rebuild. I told him I didn't mind, and then he divulged that it was for a fourth grade class back in California. My immediate assumption was that he was dating a teacher, but he told me he was just writing to some new pen pals. By the end of that long deployment, he told me he'd fallen for their teacher and couldn't wait to meet her."

"That's the absolute truth," Bradley murmured, his lips pressed to your forehead.

"We helped though," called Jayden, and you started laughing.

"That's also very true," Bradley confirmed. "Couldn't have pulled this off without all eighteen of you."

Marty shrugged. "That's pretty much all I have to say. It's so obvious that the two of you are made for each other. And I'm happy my friend isn't lonely anymore. Oh, and thanks for introducing me to Ruby." He blushed as he looked at his wife who then blew him a kiss. "Uh, so you can probably say some vows if you want to."

"Right," you agreed, handing your flowers to Bradley as you pulled the paper airplane from between two roses.

"Nice touch," he told you as you unfolded it, and he was all smiles when you looked up into his brown eyes.

"I learned from the best." You smoothed the page out in your hands. Your handwriting looked a little blurry as you realized there were tears in your eyes. After you read the few words you'd written from your heart, Bradley would do the same. And then you'd be married. You were almost dizzy with anticipation as you grinned up at him in his white hat which was slightly crooked now. "Bradley. You give me these butterflies in my tummy. All the time. From the very start. At first, I thought it was just a novelty. An extremely attractive man was taking time out of his day to humor me and my students? Butterflies galore." Bradley ducked his head and blushed, and when you reached up to touch his name tag, he met your gaze again. "But then I noticed a pattern. I felt them anytime I shamelessly thought about you. Whenever I reread your letters. When I refreshed my inbox hoping for a little note. When a box arrived for my class. Butterflies."

"Gorgeous," he whispered, cheeks still pink. "Baby, I was falling in love with you."

You laughed when he kissed your forehead again. "I was falling in love with you, too. But imagine my surprise when your deployment was ending and you asked me out. And then you made my students and I a priority the very first day you were back. And you've made me a priority ever since. Bradley, the butterflies don't stop, and I don't want them to."

He nodded. "I want you to have them forever. I promise I'll try to make that happen."

"I know you will," you whispered. "And I promise to dispose of all the spiders for you." He barked out a laugh. "And I will always say your name just to watch you melt a little bit. And I promise to talk aviation to you and always make sure you eat and always say I love you."

"Well, shit," he grunted, then his eyes went wide as he glanced at the kids and back to your face. "I mean, shoot. All of that sounds like everything I want." He cleared his throat, and you took your flowers back from his big hand. "I didn't actually write my vows down, because they are simple. They are never going to change. Sure, we got to know each other by writing and typing out our thoughts and feelings. And yeah, I still love getting a notification on my phone and reading what you sent to me. But nothing compares to hearing your voice. Nothing compares to how good I feel when I can tell you how much I love you in person."

"Bradley," you whispered, eyes and nose burning with unshed tears.

"I know, Gorgeous. It overwhelms me, too. You already have my heart. You own it. Everything I have to offer is yours. I just ask for three things in return." You pressed your lips together to keep from sobbing. "First, I'm so serious about the spiders, okay? If you see one, don't even tell me about it, just make it go away, alright?" You nodded and laughed through your tears. "Second, I need you onboard with movie nights on the little couch forever. I like that you end up laying on me because there's not enough room. I like staying in for the night with you."

"It's my favorite," you whispered. "Let's do it forever. What's number three?"

Bradley smiled and leaned a little closer. "Number three. I just need you to talk to me. However you can. Let me hear your voice. Email me. Text me or call me. Write me a letter or fill up a journal. Anything. All of it. I just need you to talk to me no matter where I am. I'm pretty sure that will get me through anything."

You were nodding in agreement as you thrust your bouquet at Marty and threw your arms around Bradley's neck. When your lips met his, you felt the butterflies. "I can do that," you promised before he kissed you harder.

You could hear your former fourth graders all cheering, and then Marty said, "I guess as far as I'm concerned, you're married."

You were wrapped up in Bradley's warm grasp as he kissed you until Natasha had to say, "There are children present!" When he finally pulled away, you watched his eyes grow wide.

"We forgot the wedding bands." He dug around in his pocket and pulled them out, slipping yours into place right away. "I want mine on, too. Been looking forward to wearing it for weeks."

"I know you have," you told him, lingering on the feel of his rough hand against yours as you slide it on. "It looks good on you. Now, I think it's time for you to have some spaghetti."

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

Bradley moaned as he bit into a chocolate pastry that melted in his mouth. It was buttery and delicious, and about to be topped off by the cup of coffee in front of him. "I was wrong," he grunted.

You looked at him across the cafe table, tucked under the awning and out of the rain that landed on the cobblestone street ten feet away. "Wrong about what?" you asked, brow creased in concern.

He held out the pastry for you to nibble on as he said, "Paris isn't just the city of love and the city of sex. It's also the city of food."

You laughed and covered your mouth as you chewed. "You've had plenty of all three since we got here, Bradley."

"I sure have," he agreed, thinking about all the frilly French lingerie inside the shopping bag at your feet. "And I would really like to have some more of each."

"And here I was concerned you'd miss Thai dinners on the beach and the food at Salvatore's."

"Oh! I should talk to them about putting chocolate pastries on their menu."

"You would bug to go there every day."

"Nah," he said, taking a sip of the best coffee he'd ever had. "Not every day. Nothing beats hanging out on our couch. Now, how many of these should we take back to the hotel?" he asked, holding up the last bit of the snack before popping it into his mouth. He moaned as it melted away on his tongue. "I'm just going to go inside and have them pack up whatever they have left."

"We can come back tomorrow!" you said with a laugh. "We're in Paris for three more days, Bradley."

"I love the way you think, Baby," he replied with a nod. "We'll take a bunch back now, and then we'll come back tomorrow."

When you and he headed out into the rain, he kept you tucked against his side along with the box of pastries and the bag of lingerie while he held the umbrella.

"Looks like there's nothing much to do for the rest of the afternoon," you said casually. "Seems like a pretty good time for you to have more love and sex and food."

"Let's go, Mrs. Bradshaw. I think you have some things to try on for me."Thirty minutes later, all the lingerie you tried on was already removed again, but only after he'd taken some pictures. And now you and he were doing the same thing you'd done at least once per day since you checked into the hotel room which overlooked the Champs-Élysées and the Eiffel Tower beyond.

"Oh god," you moaned, on your hands and knees, naked on the bed. Bradley had his hands on your hips, holding you still so you could enjoy the view of the rainy city while he fucked you from behind. "It's so pretty here," you whined.

"Look at me, Baby," he coaxed, running his left hand complete with wedding band up along your back. He stroked your neck as you turned your head to show him your beautiful face and fucked out expression over your shoulder. "It's Gorgeous."

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

He's such a dream. And he's living his best life! Please stay tuned for a poll and then the epilogue which will complete this series! Thanks for reading! And thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 29

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madwomansapologist · 2 months ago

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──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 6: 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

title: haunted bang synopsis: when you decided to explored a haunted mansion, all you wanted was to gain more knowledge for your grimoire. you never expected it to be habited, even less for all the residents to agree that sharing is caring. [1.8K] cw: wizard!reader, teratophilia, monster fucking, gangbang, voyeurism, size difference, manhandling, mind connection, scent kink, oral (f!receiving), pet play, pussy drunk, overstimulation, you know that post about "would you fuck your clone?", f in v, monsters included are a eldritch creature, a werewolf, a vampire and a shapeshifter.

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There is so many rumors about the mansion. Some believe it to have been built on top of an ancient cemetery, ending the ghost’s slumber. Others, that a coven filled every room with protection runes to preserve the soul of the late owners. A journal published a profile for an architect that died a day after the construction was completed, but quick research showed he had nothing to do with it.

Lies and gossips spread easily, but those brave enough to walk into the dead-end street can see the truth by themselves. Whoever chained those doors did so sensibly, since nothing sane could ever come out of them. A darkness spreads from within the house.

After making your way in with an old pliers, you explored the first floor. There were many chances of turning away, all of them ignored willingly. At the end, all you had were two options: to stay at home safely, or possibly learning a new spell for your collection.

Wizards aren’t known for making the obvious, easy choice.

Since the moment you sensed the darkness this mansion casted, nothing would’ve convinced you of not coming back to explore the secrets within those walls of bricks and stones. You feel it even better now, this great deal of mana. It isn’t a cursed mansion, only a heavily enchanted one.

A relieved smile appeared on your face when you finally found a library. You invoked flames in the remaining candles on the chandeliers and sat down on a large armchair. With the books floating from their shelves and surrounding your body, you analyzed them quickly in search of something worth your time.

In a few minutes, you found it. Holding an old grimoire in your hands, you blew the dust away. Walking through the library, your excitement blinded you. You put the book down on a table, opening your own to copy any fun spell.

As you begin to read the grimoire, your eyes widened. It takes strength from great old forces, eldritch entities incomprehensible to the average mortal. Based on entropy, it alters the fabric of reality itself.

Ancient magic. Its use is highly forbidden, and usually punished with death. Cleaning your glasses on your skirt, you bended over the table and read every line with an unending curiosity.

The first touch went unnoticed. A soft, quick brush against your arm. As your thigh got pinched, you assumed it to be the work of a hungry insect. But when a cold aura surrounded you, embracing your body and soul, there was no doubt left.

Whatever old force empowers this place; it was right here. Right behind you.

Your quarterstaff materialized between your hands. Your grimoire floated, pages turning as you recite your strongest protection spell. Changing your posture, you were ready to fight.

The quiet nature of this threat shifted.

Something forced its way inside your mouth, putting an end to your attempt of using radiant magic. An invisible force, but not less palpable because of it. As you bit down, trying to stop it, you felt it pressing down on your tongue.

Intruder, a voice spoke inside of your head. Low and strident, all at once. Thief in the night.

A limb embraced your waist, leaving a gelid trace as it fit beneath your shirt. A hand grabbed your left thigh so roughly you had no reaction but to whine with your mouth full. Little by little, there wasn’t a muscle of your body free to fight back.

It lifted you from the ground, forcing your hands open. The quarterstaff disappeared in the air before hitting the floor. Higher and higher in the air, your body trembled. Fully involved by this coldness, you had no way of moving.

Usurper, she hissed inside your mind. Or was it a masculine voice? You couldn’t quite picture it. But thinking back about it, didn’t it groaned and roar? Was it even human? Nothing will harm my home.

Nothing will, you thought. If you could hear its voice, then it could hear you too. You hoped. I mean no harm. I swear.

LIAR.

I want to learn, you tried to bargain. I have no intentions of hurting anyone. I didn’t even know there was someone in here to harm. All I desire is to know more than others. Nothing more, nothing less.

The silence gave you an opportunity to look for your grimoire. Alone on the ground, it was so close and yet so far away. Even if it was near, with you unable to speak or move there were few spells you could cast. And none of them would be of any real practical help now.

A soft caress on your cheeks took you from your hushed thoughts. As your feet touched the floor, you stumbled trying to regaining your balance. It held you in place, the feeling soft and rough.

I can teach you everything I know, it whispered. For a cost. This time, the voice came with pictures in your mind. Do you want that?

In them, you saw yourself. Lips hanging open, forehead covered in sweat, eyes half-closed. You saw tears running down your face, legs spread and trembling, fingers closed tightly around the same table you used before.

And in them, you saw glowing eyes still hidden by darkness.

Yes, I want that.

The same careless limbs bended you over the table, but this time it was gentler. Less worried about safety, more worried about you. Holding your hands behind your back, it placed your legs apart.

Something cold touched your inner thighs. It moved against your skin, lingering. Once more, you invoked flames. Contorting your body, a gasp broke the silence. Kneeled down, eyes fixated on your thighs, you found a werewolf.

“Your scent”, he groaned. His face rubbed against you, inhaling shamelessly. His yellow eyes raised to yours, and in them you saw desperation. His muzzle went away from you and he smiled, displaying his sharp fangs. “Hold her still.”

Once he closed his mouth, you tried to move away. Not because you wanted for him to stop, but because how couldn’t you when he says that? You were forced down, back caressed and head scratched. Like a pet, you were kept still and quiet.

Your skirt was thrown away from your body and he… sniffed you? Half of you bare to whoever there to witness, with a monster between your legs. To know that you’re being watched only makes you desire this more. A huge tongue licked your pussy, you moaned. It was real, just a tad louder than it needed to be.

Putting on a show, it laughed inside your head. Keep on this good work and I might not let you walk away.

Your eyes closed as he continued to ravish you. Restless, he simply continued. Tongue deep into you, teeth sinking into your skin, lips sucking around your clit. Your legs were covered in drool, and you could feel it dripping from your aching core.

A hand grabbed your hair, forcing you to look up. A real touch this time. The candles showed you the tall woman in front of you, nails so long they could be mistaken by claws. Looking into her red eyes, you felt a primal urge inside you.

Everything inside you told you to run.

Nature is such a disappointing force. It is not your fault that you were born a prey, that ancient being spoke. Its voice oscillated, as if it was too far away and suddenly right against your ear. And it is not hers to be turned predator long ago.

“This delicate sparkle in your eyes”, a velvet voice made to your ears. Elegant, but sharp. She smiled, and the fangs weren’t a reason to act surprised. “You won’t allow it to dissuade you, will you? Don’t struggle. There is no use.”

Her free hand closed around your neck. A movement faster than you could see, but delicate enough for you to know she didn’t want you to break apart.

“You are mine now, puppy”, she smirked. “Put your mouth to use.”

As she put her knee on top of the table, moving the black dress enough for you to see her strong legs, the vampire pulled your hair again. “Yes, mistress”, you said.

Satisfied, she forced your head between her thighs. As the werewolf continued to torture your poor pussy, you treated hers like a wine you had to enjoy every little sip. It was easy to get eager, to get lost on your own never-ending pleasure, but you made sure to treat her nicely.

Every whimper of hers made you weaker. Every bite from him made you weaker. Every hold onto your skin, whispers inside your head, made you weaker.

It was no surprise your orgasm would break you in pieces. It was no surprise every single one of you would continue despise it.

As you breathed in, trying to get your legs to work, a hand came back to stroking your skin. It put you on top of the table as if you weighted nothing. Before you could flutter your eyes open, those skilled fingers were inside of you.

Touching in the right place, with the right pressure, at the exact right moment. It was perfect. Did this creature read your mind in a way or another? Or is this fate, and in this wretched place you find someone that really knows exactly how to fuck you properly?

“What a delight”, the vampire spoke. “May I drink from her now?

The werewolf hummed. “Look at her legs. Those pretty lips”, you heard him doing just that. “You can’t. Not yet. I need my plaything strong and capable for the night.”

“But do you really, old dog?” She argued. “No one will judge you for admitting you need to rest. No one but me, of course.”

Her mind is far more interesting, it spoke again. Apparently, everyone could hear it. Her memories taste even sweeter. What a fine thing found us this evening.

“How luck we are”, you said.

But you didn’t.

Opening your eyes, you saw yourself. Fingers deep into your cunt, mouth displaying the most annoying smirk. Eyes glistening with fake innocent.

“Fuck”, you babbled.

The smirk seemed to grow. “Your mind is a interesting place”, that thing said. Even her voice was the same as yours. “But I need to say, your body if far more comfortable.”

Looking into your eyes, all you could do was take it. Let this being have its fill of you. Watch for your tits move. The strechmarks on your waist. Your soft thighs. Those freckles on your skin.

Being used, watching yourself, its voice came back. You want this to stop?

You giggled. “Don’t tell me it’s over already?”

Not at all, the voice came back. Let’s move to the next floor.

taglist: @ffinosie @lovelyy-moonlight @alzaira @s2-angells @eyes-ofhell @inlovewithmariah @chiiyohiimee @shaquilles-0atmeal @bloodyziggy @salemey @kcch-ns @notanalienindisguiseblink @py-schi

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feyascorner · 9 months ago

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at the end of the day

summary. you and astarion have your first genuine fight and the other companions try to patch things between the two of you.

warnings. comfort/fluff

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. have not written an actual one-shot in a while omg,...

Breakfast is eaten in silence. One that's been extending far past its welcome date now.

Shadowheart grips her fork, feeling the flitting glances exchanged amongst the others around the table while she maintains focus on the two individuals sitting on opposite sides of the table. Your eyes remain trained on the bread sitting on your plate and Astarion swirls his chalice aimlessly in his hand, neither of you even acknowledging the presence of the other. The cleric grimaces as you stand suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor as you do so.

"Thanks for the food, Gale," is all you mutter before leaving the room with your plate in hand. Astarion rises from his own chair in an instant, huffing.

"I must take my leave as well."

When both parties have left the room, all five other companions stare at one another in a knowing silence. Lae'zel is the only one who doesn't seem the slightest bothered. Wyll is the one to break the uncomfortable tension in the air, clearing his throat after Lae'zel nearly bites her fork off. "I see they're still amidst their lovers' quarrel."

"What are they even fighting about?" Karlach groans, slumping into her chair with an exasperated groan.

"It was nice the first few days to have a good night's sleep without their incessant noises," Shadowheart grumbles, shoving an egg into her mouth. "But now, this is arguable worse."

"Should we...aid them somehow?" Gale blinks.

Lae'zel snorts. "They're adults, we don't need to coddle them, wizard."

Despite her words, they do find themselves a few hours later in unanimous agreement to do something to ease the unfamiliar dryness of the camp dynamic. It comes in multiple attempts. And to say few---if not all--were unsuccessful, is an understatement.

First, when out in the woods, Gale makes an effort to spark a conversation that would prompt both you and Astarion to join in. You nod occasionally, though lost in thought, while Astarion promptly ignores whatever he's talking about. It's a pathetic attempt that has nobody but himself babbling away, which earns a grunt from Shadowheart. It's enough to shut him up, thankfully.

Second, Karlach uses her uncanny ability to lift someone's spirits. Jokes, dancing, all that jazz. Even booze. She urges you to let loose, but all you do in response is smile at her apologetically while Astarion just glares off into space. Another failed attempt. Lae'zel pats Karlach on the shoulder.

Wyll tells stories of his monster hunting days which you usually take an interest in. Astarion naturally listens to what a monster hunter does when he's not hunting monsters, but that's all it is. You and Astarion only listen. There are quips and lingering questions, but neither of you ever direct it at one another, or bother to add into the conversation either. The sheer amount of teasing questions has Wyll's head spinning by the end of it. Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, you're ambushed. It's a small horde of goblins---nothing beyond your capabilities, but your companions do take some small scratches here and there. Somehow, though he rarely does, as he prefers staying behind you or Karlach, Astarion does too. And despite his efforts to hide it behind his back, you also didn't miss the cut lining Astarion's arm to his elbow. It's not deep by any means, and if it were your own injury, you'd likely just brush it off.

But it's on his skin, and he'd gotten it when taking a hit from an arrow that should've cut your arm.

Blasted hells, you think, as he shrugs it off. Even when you can clearly see him clenching his jaw to bite away the pain.

If battle won't be the end of you, you're sure your idiot of a boyfriend might be instead.

"Come here, you fool," you mutter, holding out your hand. He doesn't even consider the fact that you're mad at one another and immediately extends his arm to you. Habits, you suppose.

You mumble out a weak scolding as he watches you wrap the wound through his lashes. He shivers as you lather a cool ointment on the cut, hoping it's enough to soothe the pain before Shadowheart's recovered enough to properly heal him. He lifts a pale hand to your face, and for a moment, you think he might pinch you. Instead, he runs a thumb across your cheek, spreading the ointment on a scratch you hadn't even realized was there in the first place.

You meet his eyes, your own softening as he cups his fingertips around your cheek. The way he looks at you is overwhelming sometimes---like you're the only thing he gives a damn about in this world---but it's a welcome feeling when he hasn't even looked you in the eye this way in days now. For a moment, you realize you don't even remember why the two of you were mad at one another in the first place.

A laugh threatens to escape your throat. How childish, truly.

And then he flicks your forehead, unable to help the grin etching onto his lips when you blink in surprise.

"That was for making me sleep by myself for three nights."

You swat at his arm while he dodges each of your lazy attempts to get back at him. And though the two of you continue bickering, unbeknownst to you, you have an audience a good bit away, watching you return to your old ways after making them worry for so long.

"What a sight it is--to see young people in love again," Wyll smiles.

Shadowheart deadpans. "Isn't Astarion nearing 240?"

"Who cares?" Karlach shrugs, slinging her arms on either side of her companions with a toothy beam. "What matters is that they made up...and we didn't even have to help them."

#is this kinda ooc idek atp #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #feyascorner #bg3 x reader #astarion x oc #baldurs gate 3

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relia-robot-writes · 18 days ago

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I am the Princess in the Tower.

You know, people hear that, and they say, "Oh, that poor Princess, she must be so lonesome up there. Some cruel fate must have befallen her, to be trapped so."

It's true, to a certain extent. I am lonesome. There's no shortage of princes and princesses - I have to wonder where they all come from - who come to try to rescue me from my captivity. None of them ever get particularly close, of course. The Tower is surrounded by a dark and tangled wood, monsters of flesh and stone stalk the grounds, invisible barriers and devious traps block all entry, and even if they got to the base of the Tower, they'd have to figure out how to climb up a sheer, frictionless vertical surface while automatically triggered fireballs rained down upon them... it's pretty well defended, is what I'm trying to say. Every single one of them gets sent packing, cursing the wizard who built the Tower and imprisoned me.

Which is, you know, pretty funny, when you get right down to it.

I mean, it's only natural to assume that, right? Wizards are mysterious, they pop in and out all the time. If one decides to suddenly vanish one day, well, he's probably just off calculating the angles of reality, or whatever, he'll be back. And if a girl appears in his Tower, well, of course he kidnapped a Princess for his own unfathomable wizard purposes.

It hardly matters that there aren't any kingdoms missing a Princess.

I don't correct them, anyway. It's safer for me if nobody knows who I am, or how I've changed. Safety was, after all, why I built the Tower in the first place. You think wizards do this for fun? Out in the middle of nowhere, forced to conjure food and water? Having to walk up and down twenty flights of stairs if I feel like going outside?

Wizards build towers when they are scared shitless.

See, I cast this divination spell when I was an apprentice, and I fucked it up. It constantly shows me visions of my own doom...

Not buying it?

Well, there was this devil, see, and I tricked him into thinking I'd signed my soul away, so now he stalks me forever, seeking vengeance through the very shadows themselves...

No good?

Well, I was cursed as a wee babe, and now all the world is my enemy, from the mightiest warrior to the softest blade of grass, and each one thirsts for my blood!

...I would have died to that one, like, immediately, huh.

Okay. Fine. I'm just... a coward. I built my Tower as far away from everything and everyone that could possibly do me harm as I could. I studied magic because it felt like the best way to avoid any and all hard work, conflict, and danger. I held off on telling anyone anything about who I truly was or what I wanted until I felt I could be absolutely safe.

And still, with "rescuers" at my door just waiting for my hand, I can't bear to look at them. The idea of one even getting close enough to attempt to climb the Tower (it's happened more than once) is terrifying. I could ask them to stop, but who would believe me? "Yes, I, the Princess in the Tower, am totes fine, please go away forever thanks, I am not an evil wizard." That'd go over well.

There's another princess that just made her way through the Woods and slayed one of my constructs. She'll be at the Tower base soon. She's got really pretty hair

I wish

I hope that you

Please don't

I'm writing this down here, and then I'm gonna go hide. If you're reading this,

The blue-armored princess flipped the paper over to the other side. It was blank. Her hair smoldered from the fireball she'd almost dodged, and she drummed her fingers on the hilt of her blade as she reread the first side. Aside from the paper, the room - and, indeed, the entire interior of the Tower - seemed completely empty.

#relia writes #eggbug writes #fantasy #first thing ive written in kind of a while #im considering running away from a lot of things #a tower sounds really nice right now

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fuctacles · 3 months ago

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<<😺😺😺😺 | 😺😺😺😺😺😺>>

if i didn't respond to your comment it's bc desktop tumblr didn't let me, I still love and appreciate y'all

Maybe tomorrow he'd bring his book here, and keep the cats company while he reads. Would they like it if he read it out loud?

Oh lord, the crazy cat lady energy must be rubbing off on him already.

The cats certainly are. He looks down at his black attire now speckled with cat hair, and sighs. He should have asked Steph where the lint roller was before she left. With great effort, he stands up from the comfy couch, vowing to himself to only do a cursory search with no unnecessary peeking.

The entrance seems like an obvious start since people like to de-hair themselves before leaving the house. The dresser next to the door is cluttered with typical things - sunglasses, hand lotion, chapstick, some loose change, and jewelry. No roller in sight. So he goes to the kitchen instead, because kitchen is where everything goes. The cats are watching him curiously from their chosen perches around the house.

"Stop it. This is all your fault."

He finally finds what he's looking for on a windowsill next to a dead fly. He starts cleaning his clothes there, next to the fridge, and its colorful display catches his attention.

There's an Ewok magnet that looks handmade, holding up a birthday card, and a few holiday photos, capturing smiling people in swimming costumes. Some of them look older, like the photo of a kid in a wizard robe, or a pair of bloodied-up teenagers in sailor costumes, which must be a very obscure reference because Eddie hasn't seen it at any costume party before.

The caption under the photo reads BFF but someone added a circle of smaller F's all around the photo, turning them into a frame. Which, if Eddie's connecting the dots correctly, would imply that it's Robin and Steph. The quality isn't the best, but at first glance, he's assumed it must be a family member, maybe a brother, but he remembers her saying she's an only child.

He tracks the other photos, but most of them are new, of the Steph he already knows. There might be more around the apartment, though.

But he's already rolled his shirt and he'll be back tomorrow morning anyway, so he quickly works on his pants' legs, gives the cats a wave, and leaves.

While walking back, he's apparently so lost in his thoughts, he gets startled by his own uncle.

"The cats still alive?"

"Do you want?! Me?! To die?!" Eddie screeches, eyes wide and a hand on his heart, the other holding him upright against the wall. "Why the fuck are you sitting there in the dark?!"

Wayne looks pointedly at the lamp next to him, then to his nephew. Aside from his reading nook in the corner though, the living room has no other light sources right now, but Eddie just throws his hands in defeat, deciding not to argue. Especially not when his uncle finally folded and was reading Blade Runner.

"Must have been thinking some guilty thoughts, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Eddie takes a step back from his course towards the kitchen. His uncle was flipping a page in his book, clearly not reading but not looking up from it either.

"To get scared like that. Did you do something bad, son?" He finally looks up, and Eddie doesn't like it. He looks exactly like his friends just before teasing him about something. "Saw something you shouldn't have?"

Eddie folds his arms and sticks his nose up, hoping the evening darkness hides his warming cheeks.

"I don't know what kind of panty raiding you do up there, but I'm not a pervert."

"Panty riding, huh?" Wayne raises his eyebrows in interest. "That what you boys do in college these days?"

"Do you want a sandwich? Some tea maybe?" Eddie has already turned his back to him and is switching the light on in the kitchen. "And the cats are fine, thanks for asking!"

"Yes and yes. Thank you!"

Eddie prepares them sandwiches and teas and grabs his own book so they can read in silence waiting for the evening news. It's nice to have this, a break from busy and loud college life, just sharing silence and love for books with his uncle.

That is, of course, until Wayne looks at his watch and puts the book down to exchange it for a remote. Eddie likes to keep his nose in the book until the news become too distracting or he catches something interesting being reported on. His uncle has other plans for him this time.

"You know it's alright to like her, right?"

Eddie lowers his book, slightly incredulous that Wayne is still talking about it. He looks at him with wide eyes.

"You really want me to fuck your neighbor, huh?"

Finally, his uncle gets a taste of his own medicine, almost choking on the tea that he unfortunately decided to sip on at that moment. Eddie: one, Wayne: zero.

But later, the score evened out again, as all Eddie could think of while trying to sleep were the pictures on the fridge, and plowing his uncle's neighbor into her mattress until she screamed.

The next morning, with not enough sleep under his belt, Eddie skips two sets at a time, because he totally absolutely royally forgot about the fucking plant.

He fumbles with the keys, can hear the inquisitive meows on the other side of the door, and once he's in he takes a beeline to the kitchen, ignoring the little creatures following him like they have been starving on the streets and he was a fresh batch of tuna factory waste.

The plant looks normal, the same as it did 24 hours ago, and he waters it as per instructions while trying not to even brush its leaves because he truly believes his touch might kill it. His track record with plants indicates so. Only then does he turn to the meowing bunch at his feet.

"Hello, little demons. Time to feast."

The cats are fed, their mouths making unpleasant wet noises against the equally wet food, and Eddie has a moment to take a curious walk around the place, in search of more photos.

He finds a wedding photo, with Steph in a pink dress and stunning make up dancing with a man with curly hair. There's one from a barbecue, where Steph is being hugged by a tall man with a mustache. She's wearing jean shorts and a sweater in this one, and somehow, looks a bit off. It looks older than the wedding one.

But a true treasure chest is the huge frame he finds above a small bookcase.

It's a collage titled 'The fucking journey' that seems to be a collection of Polaroids from a multitude of workplaces, with the same two people present. Year after year, one job after another, until they got where they are today.

It starts with a 1983 and the sailor costumes he's already seen. They are less bruised and more tired in this one. Knowing where to start, Eddie's eyes track from one photo to another, observing Stephanie's features, her wardrobe, and her hair change until she becomes the woman she is today.

There was no boy in that photo on the fridge. It's always been her. Growing into herself.

Is this what his uncle was talking about? Well, not talking, but being annoyingly vague about it, like he wasn't sure what he was talking about himself.

Fear not, Uncle Wayne. Eddie's going to pick up every pamphlet and every zine he can put his hands on, to educate them both about who their neighbor is, how to navigate the topic and respect her the way she deserves.

ko-fi

#crazy cat lady stevie #steddie #transfeminine steve harrington #transfem steve harrington #tw: age gap #age gap steddie #stevie harrington #stevierything #mine

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poetryvampire · 6 months ago

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painfully needy Rolan going into rut

Had this on the brain lately. I don't think it would take much to make Rolan an absolute mess but imagine how worse it would be when he's going into rut. Boy would snap so fast

Rolan x afab non-tiefling reader

Have some 🔥spicy🔥 musings

*this went longer than I wanted lol. But if you like it tell me if you want more 🧡

● Rolan had been doing this dance with you for months now. Both working at Sorcerous Sundries you saw each other regularly, even tried to work together as much as possible (not that he'd ever admit that). The banter, the playful mockery leading to not so subtle flirtation was easy until now.

● The conversations didn't flow like before. A joke about becoming a doe eyed scarcely dressed maiden -like the ones on the covers of those novels you so enjoy- suddenly lead his mind to wander. Any wisecrack replaced with the image of you gazing at him so lustfully. An image that stays with him for the rest of the day (and night).

● Lia and Cal are very vocal about his uptick in irritability. He tries to ignore them but they're not wrong. Ever little thing sets him off. He's frustrated at himself. For letting the feelings get so far without truely noticing. For being too proud or too embarrassed to act on them.

●He often forgets his words as his eyes lingered on your lips, your neck, your figure. More than once you caught him staring and to his surprise no offense was taken. Just a quizzical look, perhaps a soft smile that flooded his face with warmth.

●Rolan would have almost preferred you'd have met him with anger. Now the hope of you ran rampant through him. That if he was ever to give in he may be met with the embrace he so longed for. The need for you was growing by the day. He even took care to not stand to closely to you now. He coursed himself for it. How had he become so starved for affection that even the scent of you sprung his body to life.

●The wizard had spent many nights forced to take action if he was to ever find sleep. He'd be tangled in his sheets, hair wild, trusting violently into his own fist. He tries to keep his fantasies to more abstract forms of pleasure but as hard as he tries the vague shapes melt into crystal clear images of you. It would always be you around him like a vice that would push him over the edge.

● There were times he'd lose himself so throughly he'd cry out your name as he came. Embarrassed by this lack of control, Rolan told himself it was better to happen here than in front of you.

● Going into work that morning something felt off. Rolan's whole body felt extra sensitive, aching. The horrible thought finally struck him at midday. Was he going into rut? Now!? With such little warning? He calms himself. He's not certain after all.

● Until he's been paired with you to clean out and old study turned storage room. He's hyper aware of your scent. Its filling his lungs,making his knees weak. The room isn't exactly small but it's stuffed with stacks of books making moving around a problem. You're constantly having to squeeze (delightfully, terrifyingly) close to each other.

● Luckily you're busying yourself with the task at hand. Rolan prays you won't notice how red (red-er) his face is or the sizable bulge he's currently cloaking with a stack of books. The straining against his pants is almost painful. He's eyeing the door, anything to escape the heat building in his blood.

●His eyes fall back to you and all notions of making a run for it leave his mind. Along with everything else that isn't right in front of him. You looked a vision, standing on and old box body spread across the book self as you attempt to reach something on the top shelf. Not only was it a perfect view of your form, it reminded him of a pose one might see in an old painting.

●Suddenly the box wobbled threatening to send you falling backwards. Your scream was cut short as you felt Rolan catch you, arms wrap around your middle tightly pressing you to him. His face buried in your hair he couldn't help utter a deep groan. The wave of intoxicating aroma washing away his last bit of restraint.

●With ease he flips you around, pressing you into the shelf, a maon escaping your lips. Your hands came to his chest not to push him away but in a gentle caress.

●'Rolan? Please,' was hardly out on your mouth when they were swallowed by his lips. He kisses you like a drowning man breaking the water's surface. Madly, desperately as if any second you may be taken away for him. Hungrily he deepens the kiss and your lips part for him with ease, both of you relishing in the taste.

●It's only when you part for air he realizes he's been rocking his hips into you. An apology catches in his throat as you grind back against him. He's dizzy with lust, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

●His lips find your neck, kissing, sucking and biting. Trying his best not to break the skin. Your moans drive him on. His hands are frantic running all over you. Soon your hands lead his to the laces on your dress. He makes quick work of it.

●Rolan takes you in his arms again and lays you down on a near by table. A little too eager he tears your under things away completely. But to his awe you only laugh and spread yourself out for him to drink you in fully. You're a goddess in his eye and he intends to worship.

●Words spill senselessly from him as he lavishes you with his mouth. 'Fuck, Fuck! You're beautiful you're perfect. I need- God's, l need you I need you.' He hasn't the brain for elegance now. He's kissing you everywhere maoning words of love into your skin.

● As he makes it to your thighs he cannot help but bury is face between them. The sweet taste of your sex has him throbbing with out so much as a touch. He wants to make sure you're nice and ready for him. You're not a tiefling after all and he couldn't bare the thought of hurting you. It doesn't take long before you're dripping wet against his tongue as he slides wildly between attacking your entrance and your clit.

●You stifle a scream as an orgasm suddenly rips through you, your thighs shaking in his grasp. Youre still panting but you pull him away, drawing him closer to you. As you pull him into a soft kiss your hands unlace his pants (finally) freeing his erection. Though to hold him lightly his gasp is sharp. He's painfully hard; his head already glistening with precum.

●As he runs he length against your folds he tries to center himself. He doesn't want to be too rough or finish terribly fast. He wants to go slow but when he catches on your entrance he can't help but thrust into you, the relief of his agony so close. You tremble but encourage him on. His name quickly becoming a soft prayer on your lips.

●He's wrapped inside you now, almost all the way. The pleasure overwhelming him he opts for quicker shallow thrusts. He's taken aback by how vocal he is as more sweet lustful nothings spill from him. Rolan's control is fading fast. He's practically shaking, slamming himself into you losing whatever rhythm he had. The sight of your face contorting with pleasure is pushing him to his end. He can feel the hot pull in his gut. And suddenly something else as.

●A chill runs over him as he feels the swelling at the base of his cock. He grasps it and pulls out not wanting to subject you to something he didn't even take the time to explain. In part he's too late. He didn't fully knot but he still comes hard, spilling thick ropes all over your stomach and thighs. Fuck, you're beautiful like this.

● He blushes deeply and panics, apologizing over and over. He didn't want it to be like this. You run your fingers through his hair and kiss him gently. You don't know that much about teifling biology but Gods you wanted to learn. Rolan tries to believe you, that this wouldn't scare you off.

● He adjusted his pants, somehow still as uncomfortable as before. Perhaps it was the sight of you dressing. How you made no move to do away with his mess before you did. He could take you again easily. But not here.

● You convince him to claim illness and leave work early. To take time to rest. He agrees wanting to lock himself away from the world. And yet he also agrees to meet you that night. Then he'd have a more level head. A chance to explain himself and perhaps to hold you in his arms for longer.

Xoxo thanks for reading friends ❤️

#Boy got me feeling it #He's so stress #Rolan #baldur's gate 3 #rolan x tav #Rolan x reader #afab reader #I'm so sorry im like this #teifling #Headcanons #Is this a fic now #Should I write more #bg3

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