#cw.agegap

maybe there's just a far higher number of guys on the app you were on, and most of them just sent you a picture of their ugly penis or the most horrendous, sexual pickup line in existence… you'd practically given up on both the app and the male population in general, when you encounter gumshoe. who just tells you how pretty you are and asks how your day has been. he is outrageously attractive himself, and so you have to wonder whether or not he’s even real… despite the different start,i feel like he still wouldn't take too long to ask if you want to come over to his place sometime, but that's only normal and expected- it's the very purpose of the app such as the one you're using, after all! he warns you beforehand that his apartment doesn’t look like the best of places on the outside, and agrees to do anything you want beforehand to verify his identity! like sending pics of himself in certain poses, or (video)calling.

and you show up and all of your nerves just crash into you at once. you’re standing in the parking lot and you get so nervous you might as well throw up. you don’t really do stuff like this, but you were lured here by his genuine compliments and his good looks. you are almost tempted to text him that you’re going home, something came up, or to be rude enough to ghost him entirely- but there’s a little bit of guilt welling up inside you, knowing that you agreed with all of this, and he’s waiting for you and got his hopes up.

the reason you initially do go up to the door is this guilt. at your hesitant knock at the door, it immediately swings open, as if he had been waiting right beyond. you’d guessed from his pics he’d be big, but he’s really tall, and the spitting image of the pics he uploaded, rather than some of the horror stories you’ve heard.

"h-hi!!" you squeak. "i'm from the, uh, thing." you give him a little wave, and immediately feel stupid, quickly lowering your hand. your face is already on fire, and you don’t quite know what else to say.

gumshoe, on the other hand, only needs to take one look at you to be able to see how nervous you are. (while people often consider him dumb, he’s at least got emotional intelligence to make up for it. not to mention, he’s been around this block plenty of times before.)

"pal, c'mon, sit down. you look like you're about to pass out," he says, though not unkindly, and leads you inside before pulling back a chair from his dinner table. you're pretty happy to do as he says. "are you okay?"

"yeah, um-" you wring your hands together on your lap, face flushed, not meeting his eye. "i'm sorry. i don't really do stuff like this…. ever. i-is that weird? i just, uh, well…" you laugh sheepishly and awkwardly. "you were- you are very handsome, what can i say?"

he laughs, louder than you think you deserve, but it's boisterous. not laughing at you. "you sure do know how to make a man feel special, huh? but… hey. look at me." he's sitting opposite you now, a kindly smile on your face. "we don't hav'ta do anything you don't want to. we don't have to do anything at all! i want you to have a good time. both of us should have a good time. 'course, i'm always happy to have such a pretty lady in my home.. but i'm not gonna make you do something you don't wanna."

after his little motivational speech, you've calmed enough that your breathing has slowed down to regular levels.

"thank you, i really do appreciate it… um. i wanna try, at least. i bought new lingerie 'n everything," you mumble, eyes averted.

"just for little old me? you shouldn't have." dick's smile is goofy and genuine and luring you closer, allowing him to reach out for your waist.

"would you mind if i take a look? i'd love to see your pretty new panties." you don’t trust your tongue to make any comprehensible noise right now, so you just rapidly nod. "that's my girl."

maybe he keeps sitting down at the table, and pats his knee, inviting you to sit down on his lap. not right over his crotch, he doesn’t want to push you that quick and that hard. maybe you're wearing a cute little dress so he just pulls the hem up, and without even thinking about it, you reach out and taking him from it, holding it up for him,, you're very very red in the face and looking anywhere except at him, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he says ‘thanks’.

he just places one of his big, warm hands on your thigh, rubbing circles on the skin on the inside, and with the other hand he just traces a single finger up the length of your thigh, closer and closer to your panties to see if you don't get spooked. even when he touches your underwear, he doesn't go for your clit or anything like that, just running the tip of his finger over the side of it. maybe it's pink n lacy and slightly see through.

"that's so adorable," he tells you, maybe even tugging a little at the pink little bow on top. "s'like you read my mind and you knew exactly what i wanted to see! special girl."

"i- i'm sure i'm not… mmm--" gumshoe just hums in response, question unspoken. "i'm sure you've had prettier girls over." and you immediately want to hit yourself over the head for saying something like that, but it was what you were thinking.

"hah!" he practically guffaws, entirely unfazed. "you'd be surprised, pal. all i ever seem to hook are skinny little guys. which is all fine and good, love ‘em, but there are plenty who are just- if they can't be bothered to just say 'hi' before starting to talk about my dick, i just block 'em."

you can't help but laugh a little, and look at his face for the first time, meeting with relaxed eyes and a kind smile. (if you're going to catch feelings for this man, you swear to god--) "i guess we're pretty similar, then. i only got, uh, dick pics and bad one liners… you were the first one to just ask how i was feeling." for a moment, you can forget you're sitting in a stranger's lap with your dress pulled up, and his fingers centimeters away from your clit. maybe this guy just has that effect on people.

"people can be weird," he sighs and shakes his head a little. "that, or they just ask for the strangest things. i had this one guy over once, and he just straight up asked for fisting, which, y’know, never mentioned that anywhere before! how do ya even think you want my damn fist inside you, when you can't even handle my cock?"

"o-oh yeah?" you stammer out, the unspoken question on your lips (are you THAT big???!!??) obvious to both people in the room, and you don't even think about it as your eyes shift a looot lower than his face.

there's a tangible shift in the air, and gumshoe chuckles. when he speaks again, his voice is about an octave lower. "eyes up here, sweetheart." you jolt, practically spit out an apology, and he laughs again, louder this time. "no, no, i'm sorry, was just messing with ya. but you got curious, didn't ya? c'mere."

As a teacher, being talked about behind your back is nothing new to you. Especially in a school like Night Raven College, where a lot of the students are troublemakers in one sense or another, you cannot possibly be liked by every student. But lately, the whispers have grown more insistent, and the stares more piercing.

You only come to the realization how deeply fucked you are when Crowley himself calls you into his office, and you are attacked with a barrage of rapid-fire questions. About how there are countless rumors going around about you behaving inappropriately with one of your students, that you have a romantic relationship and physically involved, and that while he is very kind and indeed forgiving, that this is not the kind of behavior he can allow to slide by as a responsible Headmaster!

It completely and utterly blindsides you. Because he doesn't say the name out loud, you're even more lost, but Crowley is assuming you know exactly what he's talking about.

it's such a challenge to keep his hands to himself when you're so close, all of a sudden. not even in a disgusting way immediately, no, no- just tapping your shoulder to get your attention, patting your head, or holding a loose grip around your wrist when he wants to show you something. every little touch sends sparks through him. he tries to keep his distance, but he just can't.

bruno used to think interacting with other people again would make his feelings fade. all that's happened is that he realised how perfect you are compared to everyone else. no one can make his heart stir like his cute niece does. (oh, and he does try. even if he's awkward and disshelved, it's not hard for a madrigal to get a date. the whole time he kept imagining it was with you, though. the only way he could seem interested in them if he was thinking of you instead.)

if anything, interacting with you on a personal basis has made it all worse. you're so sweet to him when you reunite, proclaiming how much you missed him all these years and hugging him without warning. it's a good thing he's only fully hard after you let him go, but he's still making an excuse to slip off and get himself under control in the bathroom soon after. thinking about the situation too hard makes him want to sob.

even after, you're the one who tries to help him ease back into society the most. you introduce him to people you know, take him with you on shopping trips and indulge him by letting him share the stories he's written over the years. maybe you just pity him. maybe you see a lonely, weird old man as your tío. but if that's the case... you'd be right. but you're still spending time with him, aren't you? so he can let it go.

one day, the subject shifts to his stay in the walls. you want to see where he stayed for so long. bruno can't come up with an excuse, but his entire room in there is covered with notes about you, so he can't take you there! instead, he takes you a much different route than he usually does. there’s a wrong turn somewhere. but he does recognise where has ended up. he should’ve turned back, he knows he won’t be able to stop.

You cough as you inhale the dusty air. It’s near impossible to believe he spent so many years here, all on his own. You’re sure you would’ve lost it within a couple of weeks. While you’re shuffling your way through the passage, your tío a little bit behind you, the walls start growing narrower and narrower around you. 

“Um...” You say, slowing your step. “Are you sure this is the right way...? It looks like a dead end.”

“Yes- Yes, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” The responses comes out breathier than you’d expect. “Just keep going. We’ll be there soon.”

But the wood only keeps closing further and further around you, so narrow you eventually can’t move forward anymore. When you take a step back, you bump right into your tío. “Oh! Sorry. But this really won’t work. We need to go back.” There’s no sound of footsteps though, and he remains quiet. You’re... Getting nervous. You try to crane your neck over your shoulder to see his expression, but you can’t make it out. Without there really being room for it, you shuffle back. Your back ends up pressed against his chest. His breathing is so loud. 

“T-tío Bruno? What’s wrong? You’re being weird.” Is this some kind of prank? Are you going to end up with Camilo teasing you for falling for one of his transformations again? Somehow, you doubt it. A buried part of you is screaming at you to get out of there, your legs tingling with a desire to run. But there’s nowhere to go. Why are you scared? He’s- He’s your family. Awkward, funny tío Bruno. He wouldn’t harm a fly. Your laugh is strained. “...Let’s just go back. Please?” 

His arm wraps around your waist, and pulls you flush against him, making you jump a little. “I- I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.” The hand pressed on your stomach is shaking, stroking the skin. He moves his hips against your ass in a rolling motion. The choked noise he lets out shatters all of the excuses your mind had made up for him. His face disappears into your hair, and you can feel him inhale. “You... You smell so good, and you’re, uh, so s-soft and warm...” You’re not sure if you can hear a smile in his voice or not.

Your heart is racing in your ears, eyes wide as you stare into nothing. Never in your life would you have expected this. The world swirls around you. But even if you can’t believe it, you have to get out of there. You twist and turn, your shoulder banging into the inside of the wall. The pain barely registers. You actually manage to wriggle loose from his grip and stumble forward, but now you’re really stuck. Pinned between the wood on two sides, Bruno right behind you. He immediately clamps a hand over your mouth.

“Y-you- You, uh, already know. You’ll- You’ll really hate me, and I get that, I’m disgusting- So let me do this one time. That’s enough. Once, and I’ll stay away after that. I n-need to... It’s been...” His words are desperate and hurried, spoken in a single breath. They bump into one another. Bruno pulls you close again, and his hips stutter against yours. He whimpers. “Oh. I’m so, so sorry.” He’s sniffling, and your gut twists. Shouldn’t you be crying? Shouldn’t you be the only one who’s allowed to be upset here? You try to bite his hand, but it’s pressed against your mouth in such a way it’s hard to catch it in between your teeth.

Your tío is grinding against you in full force now. Short, quick movements that are purely for his own pleasure. All of your yells and curses are muffled against his hand. A neverending string of apologies slips from his lips, the moans and whimpers it’s broken up with making you sick to your stomach. 

(You’re not here. No, you aren’t. The edges of your vision blur as you think of anything but here, dig through your memories for a suitable replacement. A happy one. Your body isn’t rocking back and forth with your tío’s thrusts, no, no, you’re a child again, in a little boat drifting upon the water, and it’s waves that are jostling you around. You’re laughing, and the sun’s hot on your skin, and all’s good and happy and fun and nice-)

He squeezes at your skin without warning, and you gasp shakily. This gets the loudest noise out of him yet, a moan of your name. “Can- Can you do that again? I’m almost done, I s-swear, you’re just so- You’re so cute. S-so good, and sweet. You’re... You’re the only one who’s ever been this nice to me.” He breathes out. And he’s made sure you regret it. 

His hand is wandering over your skin. It never dips underneath your clothes, but he’s groping at your chest and your crotch. (You hate the warmth that settles underneath your skin. How your head is starting to get fuzzy. It’s just... It’s just your body responding in a natural way, it says nothing about your actual feelings.) You do... You do love him. Just not in a twisted way. Your heart feels like it’s being torn out of your chest with every movement of betrayal. Why did it turns out like this? You whimper his name, not out of pleasure, but because you’re seconds away from bursting into sobs. Tears spill onto his hands.

Your tío groans right into your ear as he cums, slumping against you. “...I love you.” It’s so soft, and he slurs it a little. 

They were right about him after all.

also thinking abt :’) Some members of the family being aware that bruno’s behaviour towards you is,, weird. before anything bad happens. telling you at first just to ‘not wear certain clothes when your tío is around’ and stuff like that, before actively trying to keep you two apart. but you don’t see anything wrong with him. just going to him anyway and confiding in him how weird your parents have been lately and that you still care about him <3 makes him all messed up in the brain LMAOO

the cracks in the walls deepen with every snap of his hips.

bruno couldn’t be much more distressed than he already is, though. you’ve been gone so much lately. and he hasn’t been able to figure out where you’re going! maybe- maybe you’ve been meeting with someone. some young guy or pretty girl, so unlike him in every way, and it has him feeling ill with jealousy. it’s all he can think about. (he used to wish for a different life, only because he wanted to free himself of his gift. now there’s the dream of being able to court you added to that.) bruno feels like he’s getting uglier, more twisted, by the day. he doesn’t know how to stop himself.

he needed to claim you in some way, his entire body itching until he settled on a 'solution’. as soon as he made his mind up, guilt and self hatred filled him up so much he couldn’t eat at all. in the end, he gave in. (he always does.) bruno’s crying silent tears, hicuping to keep his sobs back. it’s worse because it feels so good. if it didn’t, he could convince himself he wouldn’t do this more than once. but you’re warm and wet around him, walls spasming as your unconscious body tries to force the intrusion out. to no avail. his movements are short and shallow and inherently selfish. he refuses to touch you any more, to dirty your skin any further. 

there’s no way you could stay asleep with your tío pounding into your pussy at such a pace. bruno’s thrusts only stutter when your eyes slowly blink open. “it’s- it’s just a dream! y-yes, a nightmare.” he stammers, having thought of the line beforehand. you clench tighter around him. a jolt shoots through him, and he jerks his head back with a gasp. 

He imagines the different ways his family would react upon his reappearance, some more positive than others. As soon as the halls are empty, he wanders through them, nicking memories for himself. Inserting himself into a home he no longer has a place in. No matter how miserable it makes him, he can’t stay away. He never wanted this. To pull away from the people he loves the most and live off scraps. But as his name has grown more and more taboo, it’s become  clearer and clearer he made the right choice taking a step back with his curse. 

There’s… You, however. One of the few who never joined the majority of town in calling him a creep or his gift a force of bad luck. You used to be such a bright-eyed little kid, always directing such big smiles at your tío and eager for his attention. Your heartbroken cries nearly pulled him back out of the walls, but time had healed your wounds. Unlike his. His heart aches at the sight of how much you’ve grown, and how he wasn’t there to support you through any of it. Even if there isn’t much he can give advice on, he would’ve at least tried. He wonders if you remember him.

Just- At least just a little bit, he convinces himself. Otherwise you would’ve been swayed by their opinion of them, right? If you didn't have any of your own? If you didn’t still think of him sometimes? You used to look up to him so, so much. Bruno… Wants you to remember, wants you to think of him again. To have you look at him, and to look at you in other places than the holes he’s drilled into the wood. O-of course it’s all familial, like it used to be when you were small. All he fantasizes about is your excitement upon seeing your tío returning from the dead. Maybe a simple hug, a sniff of your hair, nothing more than that! 

(But it’s been a while since his lies worked. You’re so… Beautiful now. It doesn’t matter if he catches you all dressed up, or when you’re dragging yourself out of bed on an early morning. You draw him in and muddle his brain. Bruno’s never known many people personally. Less who speak as nicely of him as you do. He’s not sure when his affections for you morphed into something inappropriate. His feelings have settled in his mind like the tiny cracks of dysfunction that have been tearing up the walls, slowly spreading.)

There’s nothing weird about him digging through your belongings when you’re out. All he’s doing is making sure you didn’t throw out the pots of salt he hid throughout your room! Considering his circumstances, can he blamed for taking some little things here and there? When you’re home, all he does is watch. There’s no harm in it, nor are the countless notes scribbled with details a bad sign. They’re important. He knows all the names of your friends by heart, your favorite foods and sleeping positions and everything in between. Your day to day never gets boring to him.

He reaches a point where he gets distressed when he doesn’t know where you are, or you mention someone he’s unfamiliar with. The rats skitter off as soon as he mentions your name. Without a better audience, they’ve had to listen to him gush for hours. Before, it didn’t matter what kind of a bizarre story he spun, they were always ready to perform. All he can write about anymore is you. (You and him, really. Thrust into different situations each time, though always the same: Star-crossed lovers kept apart by society, circumstance or family, never failing to fall in love and stay together. A happy ever after.) 

They all think he’s a creep, no matter what he does. It’s not like it can get any worse. It’s not like they’ll ever see him again. He’s disgusting. Everyone was sure of it before he was, now he finds himself wholeheartedly agreeing with them as his dick is rubbed raw from how many times he’s jacked off to thoughts of his cute niece. Head filled with thoughts of how soft your skin would be, how nice your lips must feel, how sweetly his name would roll off your tongue, how you’d look when you’re pushed over the edge-

And now it’s come to this. A certain piece of cloth clutched in his fist, snatched away through a gap in the wall before it could get washed. He can’t give it more than a quick glance without his heart stuttering in his chest. Without his body being set ablaze, an itch crawling underneath his skin. He regrets it. Still, he holds it carefully like a treasure. Bruno knocks on the wood next to him three times in rapid succession. One of his feet taps along with it. He’s so hard. He tries to ignore it. Your underwear feels like it’s heating up between his fingers. (A part of him feels like the scum of the earth, soiling your image through his thoughts and by touching your clothes. You deserve so much better than him, but… He knows he could never get anyone better than you.)

He can’t resist any longer. It’s too much. His skin is slick with sweat and he bites back a frustrated noise as he fumbles to get himself out of his clothes with one hand. He’s gross, he’s disgusting, he hates himself- Yet he doesn’t hesitate to wrap your underwear around himself and start fisting his cock through them. Bruno can never be as quiet during this. He stuffs his knuckles into his mouth and bites down, eyes tearing up. He’s panting through his nose, quick and heavy, like he’d been running for hours. His precum is quick to soak through your underwear. He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of you, as usual.

That he isn’t inhaling dusty air in the wall right next to your room, no, no, no- It’s the scent of your favorite shampoo. You’re pressed up against him, so warm and soft. Bruno’s fucking your thighs and humping your crotch. His fingers aren’t trembling, no, it’s your thighs squirming around his cock. Teeth nipping lightly at flesh that isn’t his own, because he can’t even hurt you in his mind. The scene slips through his fingers and a new one takes its place. You, gazing down at him with a smile, rubbing up against him. Whispering his name. He’s in his own bed, but it smells like you. You found him and wanted him and for all these years, you’ve loved-

The creak of the door pulls him back to reality. His teeth break skin and his eyes go so wide a tear dribbles down his cheek as you walk into your room. None the wiser. He has to stop. You have a slight smile on your face when you look around, and when he catches your eye for a moment- (S-so pretty, looking at him with those glossy eyes as you lean in to kiss. For once, he wishes famtasy was a vision.) He grunts like an animal, dick throbbing in fist as he shakes all overMere eye contact brings him euphoria. You look around for a moment, but don’t seem to think too much of the noise. It’d sound muffled to you. 

Bruno doesn’t stop. In fact, he can’t keep himself from bucking his hips into his hand and squeezing tighter, a combination of drool and blood dripping down his chin. He’s got to get this over with quickly, has to get out of here! (A random thought wriggles its way into his brain. In a way, you’re his already, even if it’s only his niece.)  You’re looking his way again. And as soon as he thinks this, he doubles over with a wheeze as ropes of cum hit the floor and he slumps against the wall behind him.

Lazy relaxation settles over him like a warm blanket. Bruno’s head is filled with cotton. He presses his lips against the top of his hand like it might be your skin. Maybe he could get a pillow from you next. Could use it to sleep on too…

At first, they had your heart pounding. It was written with a kind of clumsy, endearing quality, like the person in question didn’t know exactly how to write one. There were flattering comparisons regarding your beauty, poetic ones eve, but the things you were being compared to were always just a little off. They had you laughing, and maybe it wasn’t the intention, but it made you look forward to the next one nonetheless. Plenty of crossed through sections too. Eventually,  they had started to quote and cut out parts from romantic novels and plays. It became a bit of a hobby to figure out where the passages came from. You can’t help but think they’re someone young and inexperienced, like yourself. A first love.

...Somewhere along the lines, it changed.

They’re so long now. It’s pages and pages, all crumpled and torn at the edges. On some of them, there are clear marks of drops of liquid. Clear droplets. But all the paper smells dusty, so you can’t be sure what it is. You’re getting somewhat uncomfortable at their frequency. How can they write so much when you can never respond? It doesn’t help that the words themselves have been getting more and more desperate, the descriptions of their feelings so overhelming it leaves you feeling choked. This is no wanting or loving, it’s needing, and it drips from every word.

You don’t know why they’re so lonely, why they don’t have anyone but you to talk to- Why they feel like you’d be the only one to understand, how you’re the only one who’s nice to them. Every compliment turns into a kick to the gut, as they’ve started dragging themselves down as they’re praising you up to the heavens. You can’t be sure either why they are deadly convinced it couldn’t work out between you, and saying so, but clinging on to you nonetheless. ...There’s no way you’re qualified to deal with something like this. To drag someone out such deep of a ditch. They’re begging for a response, but there’s no address to respond to. W-what are you supposed to do? 

At the very least, you can try to write something back. To offer a bit of support. Maybe you could ask Dolores to listen and get an idea of when they leave a letter again, to figure out who it is?... To repay you for spreading the knowledge around in the first place. Then you might be able to deliver it to them. But when you leave your response letter alone in your room, you return with it being nowhere to be found.

CREEPY OLD MAN GINTER IS KILLING ME RN… especially when he’s like EASILY old enough to be your father lmaooo… drooldrooldrool…

Ginter going out of his way to procure new clothes so he can try and sell them to you!!! Offering you to help take off your uniform so you can try them on before purchasing… But he says it with such a blank expression and even tone, that you really cannot tell whether he’s joking or not. If you get grossed out or call him out on this, he just completely brushes it off or says you misunderstood.

‘trying really hard to get you alone, not to act out his fantasies, but just to see how easy it would be’ KILLING ME WITH THIS LINE. It's Kind of the next step after fantasizing, he just wants to see if it’s possible, that’s all. As long as he doesn’t lay a hand on you, it’s completely fine! This made me think about like… Perhaps Ginter being very attractive and getting ‘a lot of action back in his day’ LMAO Trying to get you alone to see if he still ‘has it’, but not doing much more than that. Either way, I feel like he’d definitely be gross enough to steal a piece of your clothing and jack off with it. Again, he’s not doing you any actual harm. (And your home is so close to his usual spot… There’s no lock or anything on the door, he can just walk in.)