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juletheghoul · 2 months ago

Text

father figure

a/n: Clint got me big time, and originally I wanted to write one hot scene but I am who I am and now I have 21 pages written lol. Thanks to @foli-vora & @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me about this and for letting me scream at them about it too, hopefully you enjoy the first chapter. I'm still on a little break from Tumblr but with the movie out I really wanted to share. xoxo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, shitty dad (neglect), absent mother, allusions to illegal activity, daddy kink, secret relationship, period piece - takes place in 1987, Clint being a big guard dog for you, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Clint Flood x F!Reader

Ko-fi link 🥲💕

word count: 5.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series Masterlist

It’s so cold, the breath from your lungs steams a little. With an angry sigh, and the comforter from your bed wrapped tightly around your shoulders you descend the dark steps into the living room. It’s late, past midnight but the neighbourhood is still buzzing with life.

The dial on the thermostat still shows what the temperature should be set to and then what the actual temperature is and they don’t align, that can only mean the heating bill hasn't been paid again. Your teeth clench, anger swirls like a sudden squall, a heavy sigh pushed roughly through your lips.

The kitchen door opens and the object of your ire walks in, speaking loudly to someone and the annoyance only climbs. On any regular day you’d be asleep by this time, not that he’d care, based on his fucking volume.

Your mouth is open, the scathing words already in the chamber when the bulk of him blocks the kitchen light and the words die in your throat; Clint, neighbourhood thug and overall goon. He follows your dad in, his leather jacket covered frame too big for the dingy little kitchen, his big boots squeaking against the linoleum.

“Fuck, it’s cold in here—“ you dad frowns, pulling two glasses from the cupboard, “Clint, can I get you a drink?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He shifts on his feet, the bulk of him moves slowly towards the too-small kitchen table, “Thanks.”

“You didn’t pay the heating bill.” The shock of Clint in your house doesn’t stop you from giving your dad a hard stare, his wide-eyed, mooncalf expression doesn’t inspire shame or regret at letting him know. He frowns after a few seconds, an angry huff leaving his lips before laughing, it annoys you that he meets Clint’s eyes before answering you.

“Yeah yeah, I sent it in, must be another mail fuck-up, you know how it is.” He shakes his head but the pulse in your ear only quickens with anger.

“When?” With more force than is necessary, you pull the blanket tighter, “When did you mail it in?” The clench in his jaw only compounds your suspicion.

“You didn’t send in shit, and now you’re here in the middle of the night with—“ your eyes find Clint, and what meets you isn’t what you expect. The perpetual scowl you’ve come to expect to see on his face, whether he was walking down the street, idling in his car at a stoplight, or even sitting in the diner having coffee is gone. What’s there is a piercing gaze, a knowing expression, pride?

“You’re here, getting mixed up in God knows what instead of getting a fucking job—“

“I am getting a job. A good one, one that’s going to change our—“ Clint clears his throat, and the words die, his expression shifts from angry determination to a pleasant, paternal—yeah fucking right—blankness.

“Go to bed, I’ll make a few calls tomorrow and get the heating turned back on.”

The disgust is hard to hide, so you don’t even try. They both call out a soft goodnight when you turn and walk back up the stairs. You don’t respond.

The bell jingles, but your eyes stay on the pile of returned tapes in the bin under the window. The weekend crowd would be in soon, just like every other Friday, all of them flooding towards the new releases section to pick their movies for the weekend. The box is heavy, but you lug it over anyway.

“Let me help you with that—“ his voice cuts through the mental list flickering through your mind, startling you enough that you practically jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He's taller than you remember, greyer, hotter.

“You didn’t,” you lie, “just caught me off guard.” The step back is involuntary.

“Where did you need it?” He holds the heavy box without trouble, it barely seems to register, a testament to at least one of the rumours you’ve heard about him, that everyone has heard about him—his strength. Seemingly just to compound the thought, he shifts it to get a better grip, and for a moment holds it with one hand.

“Yeah uh, just there is fine. Thanks.”

He gives you a tight smile after putting down the box, highlighting the deep scar that begins from the top of one eyebrow and runs down his nose, ending just under the other eye. It’s jarring enough to see it healed. Unwanted images of what it must have looked like fresh, of having a bloody slash across his face fills your mind's eye. It sends a chill up your spine.

Clint's smile evaporates under your gaze, the usual scowl takes over while a curious guilt burns within you.

“Thank you.” You repeat yourself, giving him a smile of your own. A tiny, silent apology. He nods.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Your dad asked me to meet him, I forgot you work here.”

“Forgot? I didn’t know you knew it in the first place.” You mumble it mostly to yourself as you begin the process of filling the shelves with the returned tapes.

“I’ve seen you here before.” He leans against a bare space on the wall, the leather in his jacket creaking as he crosses his arms. You’re not sure what to do with that information, and the easy assumption is that he’d been in the store before, or that he’d walked by enough times, seen you during a shift enough times to recognize you as the video store girl. You accept this assumption.

“Been here a few years.”

“I know—“

“Look, whatever bullshit my dad is trying to get involved in, can you please just tell him to stop?” The words bubble up, spilling out as you slide tape after tape behind the corresponding case. He frowns, you continue.

“He doesn’t need to be getting himself mixed up in things he shouldn’t be getting mixed up in.” His expression is cold when your eyes lock, the reminder of who he is, of his reputation makes your stomach drop.

“It’s not my business, it’s not anything I want to know, but it shouldn’t be his business either.”

“Your dads a big boy sweetheart, not up to me to tell him what to do.”

The bell chimes over the door, ripping your attention away from the endearment. Your father walks in. Something curdles in your gut that he smiles at the sight of Clint, smiles in a way that spells trouble.

“You’re late.” Clint’s tone is icy, the warmth that curled around the syllables he’d directed at you has frozen over into something unwelcoming. It served to highlight a warmth you hadn’t noticed. That curdled thing shifts to a warmth of your own to see the smile die on your fathers face, to see him chastised. Shame eclipses it however, you focus on your task and leave them to their business.

Your father leaves without a word once their meeting is done, Clint doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes find yours, they linger longer than necessary before he walks out of the store. Thoughts of him linger, of his strength, of his voice, of the shape of the word sweetheart in his mouth until the rush comes and you forget all about him.

It’s not until a week later that you see him again, another unofficial meeting at the video store. They stand in the x-rated section, the two of them speaking in hushed tones while half-heartedly pretending to look at the cheap pornos lined up on the shelf. The curtains for the section aren't completely closed off, giving you a clear view of them from where you stand at the aisle just outside of it, and you’ve stacked those shelves enough times to know exactly what Clint is looking at. Something inside jumps at the thought of knowing which tape caught his attention, however superficially. Barely legal babysitters, a girl that Bobby, your shithead coworker has taunted you with by saying she looked an awful lot like you.

Your brow creases when you see him idly pick up the case, watch him study the image of the bubbly girl smiling cheekily. He puts it down, and then looks back at you. Your stomach drops, but you don’t look away. Heat floods the whole of you, a cold drop of sweat following the line of your spine. They leave without a word, but the look in his eye stays with you.

The heat turns on a week after that, blessed warmth blows steadily through the vent in your room, chasing away the chill that’s haunted the whole of your house. Clint walks in with your father that night, a tight smile greeting you in the kitchen.

“Shit, I didn’t know you were home tonight.” Your dad frowns, take-out bags in his hands and something burns clean through. Anger, annoyance, embarrassment when Clint frowns in understanding.

“I never work on Thursdays.”

“Fuck. Okay well—“

“You serve yourself a full plate, and we’ll make do with the rest.” Clint speaks over your dad, that same tone you’ve heard a few times, the one that leaves no room for argument fills the tiny kitchen but you protest anyway.

“It’s fine. I can just go out and get myself something.” It should make you happy that he wants you to have some, but all you can focus on is the fact that it’s him that offers it and not your dad.

“Get yourself a plate, and fill it. Come on.” Your feet bring you to him, your hands reach for the cupboard and obey while your dad says nothing.

“That’s it sweetheart, go on, grab as much as you like.” He opens the containers and urges you, his tone softening up into something warm, something almost nurturing. You smile up at him, taking a little bit of the sticky sweet orange chicken, you huff out a laugh when he tuts at how little you take.

“That’s not enough. Don’t be shy, there you go.” He slides a few more pieces onto your plate before opening up another container.

“You want fried rice? Or just the steamed one?” His hands are scarred, his knuckles littered with the tiny silver lines of stitched over skin. His fingers are deft when they open the containers, for a second you imagine how they’d look opening up the button of your jeans, or the tiny ones on your favourite cardigan.

“Veggies too, here have some broccoli.” He tips another container, piling the shiny, bright green vegetables onto your plate while you reign your thoughts back in.

“That’s more than enough, I won’t eat all of this.” He waves you away.

“Eat.” He urges, and with a shy, tight lipped smile and less than wholesome thoughts, you sit at the table and eat.

Your dad serves himself after Clint, silently. His plate has perhaps half the food that yours does.

“I won’t eat this all, you—“

“No, that’s yours. He should’ve considered his daughter before coming home without enough food. Next time he will.” Clint eats, impervious to the sulk on your dads face.

The strangeness of it all isn’t lost on you, to have someone who is for all intents and purposes a criminal, going to bat for you against your own father. If this had happened a few years ago, if you’d been younger, more naive, you might have felt bad for your dad, you might have stuck up for him and defended his actions, but you aren’t that person. The shut off heat comes to mind, the unpaid bills over the years, the endless schemes to make a quick buck, the general neglect moves your fork across your plate.

Clint catches your eye and winks, a cheeky thing that fills your body with heat, shoos away the very idea of neglect.

Undeterred, your dad continues a previous conversation you tune out. Your eyes are fixed on the man across from you, on the breadth of his shoulders and the flex in the muscles of his jaw and neck as he chews through his bites of food.

When they leave, the thought of him lingers. The sound of his voice fills your ears when you tuck yourself in, the heat of his form beside you fills your bed like a ghost, until you fall asleep and dream of that wink.

It doesn’t register at first, but after the take-out fiasco, the meetings at your house tend to take place on Thursdays. They fill out the kitchen, talking about things you have no reference for, coded language regarding God knows what while you make yourself dinner, or tidy up, while you fold laundry on the couch. Little things pop up too, the fridge is full of food, a rare occurrence and part of you suspects that Clint is responsible. How novel, that the neighbourhood goon would push your father into providing.

It shifts eventually, from an influence on your father, to him providing directly. It starts with a coffee, a warm, sweet one from the diner down the street given to you without a word before another video store meeting. Fresh donuts on another night, breakfast before a shift on another morning and although completely confusing, it feels a bit like a feral cat bringing dead mice to your door. An offering, a courtship? You shake your head, eat the food, drink the coffee, and enjoy the donuts.

Rain pours, heavy and relentless as you finish up vacuuming the musty old carpet of the store. A loud sigh leaves your mouth, already shivering in anticipation of the short walk home in what is quickly turning into a fucking monsoon. A car pulls up in front of the store, idling just outside the door and you recognize it as Clints.

“Get in!” He shouts from the open window when you open the door, pressing yourself as close as you can to lock it without getting drenched.

With a frown you stare at him, noting the lack of your father.

“Come on, get in sweetheart, I’ll drive you home!” He reaches over, unlocking the door and you jump in as fast as you can. You don’t escape the water, despite it only being a few seconds your jacket is soaked, water droplets run down the back of your neck. He turns the heat up full blast and you’re more grateful that you know what to do with.

“Thanks, what are you doing here?” You rub your hands together in front of the vent, soaking up the warmth.

“I didn’t want you walking home in this.” His tone is simple, matter of fact. He drives slowly, the windshield wipers are working as hard as they can but the visibility is still trash.

“Why?”

“It’s pouring, you shouldn’t have to walk home in this, you shouldn’t have to walk home at all.”

“And why shouldn’t I–”

“Because.” The word comes out in a huff, almost annoyed–no, not annoyed, passionate, “If it were up to me you wouldn’t even need to work.”

Your mouth clamps shut, your mind races. Thoughts swirl as he turns slowly down your street. Heat that has nothing to do with the air blowing through the vents claws at your chest, curls in your gut and trickles to the place between your legs.

He parks outside your house, dark and lifeless, coming up out of the concrete like a rotten tooth.

“Why are you saying that?” The car rumbles, the rain pelts against everything. His eyes are hungry when they meet yours and the air in the car, in your lungs is gone.

“Because you deserve to be spoiled. You deserve to be taken care of and loved–” the words are a tide, a great big wave on the horizon of a barren desert.

“You definitely shouldn’t have to worry about bills or whether there will be heat in your house, you shouldn’t be taking care of your dad, he should be taking care of you.” A crack spreads through the veneer of the fantasy and clarity comes through. Where you thought he was confessing his feelings for you, it was actually a paternal worry.

Embarrassment burns so much hotter than desire.

“I’m fine–”

“I know, I know you’re fine but I don’t want you to just be fine. I want you to be happy, I want you to smile.” He frowns, his big hand engulfing yours and it only makes you feel worse, until he pulls you in and presses his mouth to yours. He swallows the gasp, along with an unintentional whimper. His kiss is softer than you'd ever expected, a delicate, plush press of his lips to yours until your arms drift up to slip along his neck. He feeds you a sound of his own, a low, rumbling thing as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head and slips his tongue past your slightly open mouth, slides along yours, licks deep until you moan.

When he pulls away the world is on its ass, your heart races and your pulse pounds both in your ears and in your cunt.

His jacket thwacks onto the ground of your tiny bedroom. It’s accompanied by your soaked jacket, the discarded items surrounded by tiny pools of rainwater but you couldn’t care any less. His hands squeeze at the meat of your hips, they slide around to the small of your back, press you close to feel the heavy weight of his cock against your hip as he presses you down onto your tiny bed.

The lust, the want is so intense it drips onto your inner thighs. It clouds any and all thoughts that aren’t about his tongue licking a hot stripe up your neck, or the look on his face when he kneels between your legs, when he sees the glossy lips of your sex, the wet spread of you begging for any part of him.

His cock barely bobs, it lands like a brand against your cunt when he settles in the cradle of your hips, bracketed by your thighs. His lips engulf a nipple, his tongue swirls mercilessly around the sensitive peak and liquid fire burns clean through you. With a steady suck and a life-altering flick of that tongue he rocks his hips. His cock spreads your seam wide, coating himself in your arousal, the fat tip of it bumping your clit with every push and pull.

There isn’t enough air, there isn’t enough room in your lungs.

“So fucking wet for me huh baby?” He nudges at your nipple with his nose, his tongue licking at it again and again before he moves to the other breast. He sounds almost pained as he worships your chest, breathing hard through his nose as you stare in horny silence.

It’s so hard to focus on anything but the all-consuming heat of his mouth on your nipple, or the heavy weight of his cock against your mound but you try to take in the details of him. The scars on his golden skin, the freckles on his shoulders, the size of him on top of you, so broad he blocks the light when he moves up towards your mouth. He’s an eclipse, a dark, welcome shadow across your sky, across your life. Until him, you hadn’t realized how fucking bright everything had been, how blinding, how exposed.

“Gonna take care of you.” He kisses a path up to your neck, leaving both nipples wet and puffy. “Gonna fuck you how you deserved to be fucked, you want that?” He reaches down, pressing himself harder against your clit.

An inhuman sound comes from somewhere in your throat, the part of your brain that forms words has left the building.

He laughs, a cocky, self-assured thing.

“Come on, pretty baby, tell me. You want my dick don’t you? Because I really wanna give it to you, but I gotta hear it. You gonna be my good girl and tell me?” The tip of his dick slides deliciously over your clit and it’s so good you might come just from the stimulation, it’s already building at the base of your spine, spreading through your hips like a warm bath.

“Oh yeah, she wants me so fucking bad huh? Look at her, all wet, trying to pull me in, greedy little thing.” He moans almost to himself, looking down to watch himself tease you halfway to madness,

“Please Daddy–” It slips out, unbidden, unmistakable and panic hits like a bucket of cold water.

His eyes shoot up, silently pinning you to your bed and for a split second, you can almost pinpoint every single drop that hits your window.

“I–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I–�� You scramble for a second, trying and failing to get out from underneath him. You don’t make it far, his grip tightens, his eyes dilate, a grin spreads across his handsome face.

“Oh baby, that’s what you need huh? Just a daddy to take care of you. A real one.” His lips drift across your skin as the rain pelts harder, the soft glow of your lamp casts his face in shadows at this angle, the scar on his face looks more pronounced, his normally slicked back hair falls in soft tendrils. Something swells, an emotion you can’t really parse, it lodges itself in the back of your throat.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” His kiss is gentle, his hands too, hitching your legs high on his hips. You’re wet enough that he slides right in, but the size of him bottoming out inside you makes you gasp out a surprised moan.

“Holy fuck–” You swallow thickly, breathing deep despite feeling like his dick is in your lungs.

He lets out a deep sigh, licking his lips before he looks down to see himself stretching you open on his length.

“That’s so fucking pretty, Daddy’s in there nice and deep.” His words send a shock of pleasure through your body, like a lightning strike pulling more and more liquid arousal to seep out around him. He sees it, and smiles big.

“Oh you like that, you just wanna be my baby don’t you?”

You want to answer, you want to use your words and pull him apart, make his heart race the way yours does but he pulls his hips back and thrusts in deep and every word falls out of your head, leaks out around his cock, comes out as a breathy pant.

Your inner thighs burn, sweat beads on your skin and his, the slick rhythmic noise between your legs fills the space between you along with your heavy breaths. Rain pelts outside, lightning flashes, shining a spotlight on the vulgar tableau like a spotlight, like a camera flash for an image you never want to forget.

He’s so fucking beautiful, so warm against you, so fucking hard inside you. His eyes take in the no doubt cock-dumb expression on your face and there is only desire in his gaze. The rest of the world falls away under the weight of it. One big palm skates up, squeezing at the weight of your breast, his thumb brushes against the sensitive peak before sliding up and pressing gently against the base of your throat. There is no threat, only the comforting feel of him holding you down, the reassuring feel of just how much of your skin his hand can touch at once. It sends a hot lick of desire up your spine.

“Harder–” You pull him closer, canting your hips up to meet his thrusts, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, the blunt ends of your nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders and he pulls his lip into his mouth at the sound of your voice.

There is no preamble, no teasing, in a moment he’s up and kneeling between your legs. Those big hands are holding onto your hips tight enough to bruise, thrusting, and pulling you towards him at the same time. Your bed rocks, your breasts bounce, and your brain runs celebratory laps around itself on just how lucky you are to have found this man.

His face is a frown of concentration, mouth open, dark eyes fixed on the way you leak around him, on the way your hands scramble for purchase on anything they can reach. He grunts, moving one thigh up so your calf rests against his shoulder and the other reaches down to swirl mind-blanking circles at your clit.

“Oh god–” Your stomach tenses at the threat of pleasure looming, heat spreads and he doesn’t alter his movements, he doesn’t speed up.

“That’s it baby, come on, you can do it.” He nods at you, his eyes guiding you into the abyss, his thumb in place and it’s almost there, you can taste it.

“Come on, pretty baby–” He leans forward a little while keeping his rhythm, lining himself up and then he lets a glob of spit fall slowly over the target of his thumb and the thought, the act, the feel of that extra hot slip sends you over the edge.

Your voice breaks with it. Your body clenches tight as a bowstring, and he only grips tighter, fucks you harder, swirls his wet thumb faster. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you ride out the high, the vulgar sounds between your legs only get louder, more obscene until he pulls out, and tugs at himself in tight, fast movements. The sight of him over you, bathed in shadows and silhouetted by the streetlamp outside, his arm flexing, muscles shining with exertion while he strokes himself above you is enough to reignite that desire in your belly.

It’s only compounded when he lets out his own unadulterated moans, when he leans forward again and palms your breast, squeezing as he paints you in himself.

He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him after he comes. That constant tension you’ve come to recognize in his shoulders is gone, the scowl he wears in the video store is replaced with a serene, soft expression as he wipes his cooling come away from your skin after making his way naked and unbothered to your bathroom next door. A shyness creeps in along with the clarity of what you’ve done. Any stress you’ve leached away from him, seeps into your body the longer you lay there, naked and hyper aware of the shift in who he is to you.

“You okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He tosses the damp washcloth into your laundry basket, but lingers beside you, sitting at the edge while you lay there, naked, damp and fidgeting.

“No, no, not at all.” You take a deep breath, try to smile but he frowns, his warm hand settles softly, lightly on your belly. You can see the way he draws up, shoulders rising with the growing tension.

“Are you upset that this happened?” There’s something slithering through the tone, through the undercurrent of his question and you can see it clear as day, doubt that you wanted this, doubt that you wanted him.

“No! No, this was, it was great, really.” Your smile is real, and his eyes are intense, trying to decipher your words and your body language. You rise, shoving down that self-conscious chatter about your body, about the fact that he can see everything.

“I–Clint, it was really good…I’m just, I’m nervous about what happens now.” Your hand holds his arm, breathing through and ignoring the mean little voice that focuses on his hand on your belly.

“What do you mean?” His thumb rubs at your skin, frown in place.

“Well, what is this?” You gesture to the two of you, “not to be that girl, but what are we? You’re working with my dad, are we dating? Was this just a one night thing? Are we going to pretend nothing happened–?” Questions spill out, word vomit in his lap like a sick cat.

“Okay, okay–” His hands land on your arms, sliding up to cup your cheeks and the tension leaves him again, a smile replaces the frown and you mirror the expression back, embarrassed.

“I am happy with whatever you want. I would prefer this wasn’t a one-time-thing, at this point I don’t even think my dick would get hard for anyone but you, sweetheart.” He pulls you forward softly, but firmly to straddle him.

“As for your dad,” He lets out an annoyed sigh against your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there before shaking his head.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure he has a future in what I do.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t give you any details and you don’t ask. Your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers thread through the damp hair at the base of his skull.

“So what happens now?” he pulls you closer, his strong arms make you swoon but you focus.

“I’d like to keep seeing you. I’d like to take you out on a real date, show you off.”

“Really?” Your teeth dig into the plump of your lower lip, heat spreads through every inch of you, pooling in the parts of you that are pressed up against the parts of him.

“Yeah baby, of course, if you’d let me.” His smile is so soft, so sincere it bolsters you enough to pull you forward, his mouth begs for yours and you have no choice but to obey. It’s soft and sweet, and when you pull away your face is warm with the feelings swirling within.

“I want that too, but–”

“What is it?” His hands stroke your back, soothing, strong, reassuring.

“Can we just keep it to ourselves for a little bit? I don’t want to deal with the drama of my dad. Not just yet.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Your dad shoves himself into the kitchen an hour later, shaking himself off like a wet dog. Clint sits at your table, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands and the smile, the pleasant conversation between you is gone and it’s like he’s another person.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Your dad speaks to Clint, ignoring you completely, it doesn't phase you. The clench in Clint's jaw though, that makes you smile to yourself.

“Why? I told you I would come find you.” He frowns, rising and putting his cup into the sink.

“This isn’t going to work if you aren’t going to listen to me.” He leans against the counter, pointedly staring your father down. Your father crumbles.

You rise, knowing whatever they have to speak about is none of your business.

“Thank you for the coffee, sweetheart.” He says it as you walk away, tone cold but you smile anyway. His smell lingers in your room, in your sheets, wraps itself around you as you fall asleep.

Your heart leaps, a staccato, tachycardic thing that would worry you if weren't for the recognizable shape of him entering the video store. He smiles a private smile, hands you another sweet coffee he knows you like from the diner. His fingers linger on yours when you take it from him. He pulls a warm pastry from one of the big pockets in his jacket, and gives it to you with a wink. Your face warms and suddenly, keeping this whole thing a secret seems so stupid. Every molecule of you wants nothing more than to jump over the counter and climb him like a tree, wanting to feel those strong arms wrapped around you.

Your dad walks in, and the urge dies. The thought of his expression if he saw that is enough to curdle milk.

“You busy on Thursday?” Clint asks low, uncaring and you shake your head no. “Don’t make plans.” He winks again, and then turns, and leaves you with the sweet taste of coffee in your mouth, wishing it was his tongue instead.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #clint freaky tales #clint #clint x f!reader #clint flood #clint x reader #clint x you #freaky tales #freaky tales au #freaky tales clint

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puffins-muffins · 3 months ago

Text

What Lovers Do

Pairing: Jax Teller x Female Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 4,768 (I can’t stfu 🫣)

Summary: Jax’s possessiveness and your willingness to push him reveal an intensity that neither of you can ignore. What starts as a playful game of teasing and jealousy turns into a realization that maybe your connection runs deeper than either of you have admitted.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please, minors DNI, Possessiveness/Jealousy, Semi-Public, fingering, (unprotected - be responsible!) P in V sex, throat necklace, alcohol consumption, cursing, minor fat-shaming (Jax comes to the rescue), slight feels.

AN: this is my first time posting smut, please be kind 🫶🏻 feedback is always appreciated (likes, comments, reblogs 💕) if I missed anything, let me know. enjoy babes!! 😊

You and Jax have never been exclusive. There’s never been a conversation about rules, boundaries, or expectations. You just are. And it’s always suited you both just fine. The things neither of you say, the choices you don’t question, the arrangement you both keep without defining it.

Commitment has never been something you crave. And Jax? He’s got his own demons. His life in the club is full of chaos, full of choices that leave blood on his hands and a weight on his shoulders.

You’ve always understood that, just like he understands you.

That’s why it works. No pressure, no promises, just an unspoken agreement. Random hookups, a place to escape, a moment of quiet when the world gets too loud. Sometimes, Jax comes to you and doesn’t ask for anything except to lay with you, to let your calm settle over him.

And you let him, because whatever this is between you, it’s more than just physical. It’s trust.

But tonight, something’s different.

The wedding of Opie and Lyla gave you the perfect excuse to step outside of your usual wardrobe. It wasn’t often you got dressed up, but tonight you were making a statement.

The dress you’d picked hugged every curve just right, the fabric skimming over your full, voluptuous figure. The neckline framed the soft swell of your cleavage, accentuating the plushness of your chest. The fabric clinging to the curve of your waist, highlighting the flare of your hips. Thick thighs, a perfectly rounded butt, and a hemline short enough to show off the best of what you had to offer.

Judging by the lingering glances and appreciative smirks from the men scattered around, so did everyone else, but those in the inner circle knew you were off limits.

And while others might have been watching, one pair of eyes never left you.

Jax.

He was standing across the room from where you were, beer in hand, the easy conversation with his brothers nothing more than background noise as he watched you. His expression was carefully blank, but his gaze was scorching.

You could feel his stare like a brand against your skin, his jaw tight as he tracked your every move. You could feel it following you, growing darker with every laugh or look you exchanged with a man that wasn’t him.

And you weren’t his. Not officially. But you knew that look.

Possessive. Jealous.

So, you decided to have a little fun with him. You knew it was dangerous to tease like this, but you didn’t care. You looked good and felt good and loved the attention.

And he was watching.

And it turned you on.

You’re mid–laugh, the man in front of you saying something that barely registers in your mind when suddenly, Jax is standing close, his body crowding into yours in a way that makes it clear he’s staking his claim.

“Entertaining guests tonight, darlin’?” he mused, his smirk lazy and unmistakably possessive.

The stranger stiffened, his confidence shrinking under the weight of Jax’s casual dominance. “Uhhh,” he stammers, shifting uncomfortably as Jax’s attention never wavers from you. “I didn’t realize –“

He steps in closer, the heat of him curling around you, that damn smirk still playing across his lips.

“You realize now,” Jax cuts him off, staring at you while he speaks, before glaring back in his direction. A silent warning.

The guy mutters some excuse and quickly backs off, disappearing into the crowd.

You arch an eyebrow at Jax, unfazed. “Was that really necessary?”

His hand snakes around your waist, fingers digging into your curvy hip, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You tell me,” He breathes out, dragging his tongue across his lips as his eyes trace every dip and swell of your body, drinking in the way your dress hugs each soft curve.

“Walkin’ around here lookin’ like that,” he continues, voice dripping with seduction, “smilin’ at guys like you don’t know exactly what you’re doin’.”

You tilt your head, your smile indicating something between amusement and challenge. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” you tease innocently. “I’m just having fun.”

Jax was about to turn away when he stopped abruptly. Without a word, his hand slid down your side, tracing the dip of your waist before he cupped a firm handful of your ass.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your body going rigid for a moment as his fingers flexed against your skin. The warmth of his palm burned through the thin material of your dress – or, more accurately, the lack of anything else underneath it.

The realization hit him immediately.

His grip only tightened, just enough to make your pulse stutter, and then came the lightest, sharpest smack. The sound was soft, but it sent a flutter through you, heat rushing to your cheeks – wetness pooling between your thighs.

He leaned in close, his voice a low rasp as he whispered against your ear. “Well, now… that’s interesting.” It sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps blooming in its wake.

You fought the grin threatening to spread across your face as you tilted your head just slightly, giving him a sidelong glance.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “Interesting? I’d say efficient.”

You feel his fingers twitch against you, as if fighting the urge to grip, to claim. His jaw ticks, nostrils subtly flaring as he exhales the breath he was holding. And for a second, you see it – a flicker of something wild and primal in his expression.

He wants to drag you away right now, to show you exactly who you belong to. The way he looked at you was unbearable, all-consuming – like he was already stripping you bare, mapping out exactly how he was going to wreck you.

His smolder faltered for just a moment before he let out a low chuckle, his tongue swiping over his lower lip as he devoured you with his stare.

But before he can act, a burst of laughter and excited chatter breaks the moment.

Girls from Diosa descend, a whirlwind of perfume and giggles as they grab your arm. “Come on, girl! Let’s dance!” one of them squeals, tugging you away.

You go willingly, but not before looking back at Jax, catching the way his eyes burn into you. His frustration is barely concealed beneath the cool exterior he’s struggling to maintain.

You pout at him playfully, your teeth grazing your lower lip as a slow, knowing smile tugs at your mouth. With a casual shrug, you throw in a wink for good measure. You know exactly what you’re doing. And so does he.

Teasing Jax like this is a dangerous game, but damn if it isn’t a thrilling one.

That signature smirk of his – cocky and effortless – is planted firmly on his face. He tilts his head slightly, running his tongue over his teeth, tapping two fingers absently against the side of his beer bottle. He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t call you back. No, Jax is patient when he wants to be.

But that look he gives you? That easy, infuriating, I’ve already won look?

That’s the warning.

The whiskey spreads through you like fire, warm and intoxicating. The buzz hums in your body, making your limbs loose, your inhibitions slipping further away with each sway of your hips. Laughter bubbles from your lips freely, the excitement of the night pressing against you in the best way.

But what makes the heat burn even deeper is him.

Jax still hasn’t taken his eyes off you. Even as you lose yourself in the music, your body alive with the rhythm, you can feel it – that heavy stare cutting through the space between you. Every time you glance his way, your eyes meet, and the tension pulls tighter.

A song later, the warmth of the dance floor gives way to the cool air by the bar, and you lean against it, skin still tingling, waiting for another drink to keep your buzz going.

And that’s when it happens.

A careless bump – simply hard enough to knock you off balance. Cool liquid splashes down your arm, the sharp scent of bourbon filling the air as it seeps onto the floor.

“Shit,” the guy mutters, shaking off his hand. He’s drunk, unsteady on his feet, but instead of an apology, all you get is an annoyed scoff as he finally looks at you.

His gaze drags down your body before his lip curls into something close to disgust. “Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. “What the hell are you even wearing?”

His meaning is clear. The way his eyes linger – judging and dismissive. It’s not about the dress; it’s about you in it. The implication stings, but not as much as the arrogance dripping from his tone.

You blink, the hazy warmth of whiskey quickly shifting into irritation. “Excuse me?”

He waves a dismissive hand in your face, his words slurred and full of condescension. “I mean, come on. Look at you.”

You let out a sharp breath, your temper flaring, your shoulders lock as fire flashes behind your eyes. But before you can put this asshole in his place, a shadow looms behind you.

You don’t even have to turn to know he’s there. Jax’s presence wrapping around you like a second skin.

The moment he steps beside you, his hand sliding around your waist, the humiliation burns away. His fingers press into your side – firm and possessive.

Your pulse jumps. The air shifts. And suddenly, you’re not exposed – you’re protected. A silent reminder that you are his.

The drunk finally registers Jax’s presence, his bleary eyes flickering up, and whatever drunken bravado he had before? Gone.

Jax tilts his head, his lips curling into something wicked. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t need to – because the calm way he speaks is even more unsettling.

“She botherin’ you, man?”

His glassy eyes dart between the two of you, panic flickering behind them, unfocused, as he finally starts to grasp his mistake.

“Nah, man,” he stammers, lifting his hands slightly as if that might undo the last thirty seconds. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

Jax hums, slow and thoughtful, his fingers twitch against you. He’s still relaxed, still perfectly in control, but there’s a dark edge to him now.

“That right?” he drawls, tilting his head the other way, his grip on you tightening just enough to send a message. “See, that doesn’t really work for me.”

He stiffens, blinking fast like he’s trying to clear the alcohol from his system. “I – I didn’t mean – “

Jax clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Yeah, you keep sayin’ that” he muses, his tone still deceptively casual. “But what I heard? Was you talkin’ shit to her.”

The guy’s mouth opens, but Jax doesn’t give him the chance.

“So, here’s what’s gonna happen,” he continues, his voice calm, like he’s explaining something simple, like he’s giving the guy a choice when you both know he isn’t.

“You’re gonna look her in the eye,” Jax instructs, tilting his head, that easy smirk playing at the edges of his mouth, though there’s nothing amused about the look in his eyes. “And you’re gonna apologize. And you’re gonna mean it.”

Jax’s fingers tap twice against the guy’s sternum before he steps back just enough to let him breathe – but not enough to make him comfortable. His stance stays loose, shoulders relaxed, but there’s an unmistakable charge in the air, the kind that makes it clear he’s still deciding how this is going to go.

The idiot hesitates just a second too long.

Jax’s smirk fades, his jaw shifting as his tongue runs between his lips, slow and calculating. His fingers flex once and the subtle roll of his shoulders speak volumes.

The guy’s eyes widen. “S–sorry,” he blurts, stumbling over the word as he looks at you, his voice uneasy. “I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have said that.”

Jax doesn’t respond right away. He just watches, his blue eyes sharp as they give the guy a once over, sizing him up like a predator watching their prey. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, the corner of Jax’s mouth twitches, his menacing smirk creeping back into place. He tilts his head, exhaling sharply through his nose, his voice taunting.

“There we go,” he says, amusement flickering in his features. “Not so hard, huh?” His hand claps against the stranger’s shoulder, just a little too heavy, before he steps back fully, like he’s already lost interest.

The guy nods frantically, desperate to get out of the situation. “Yeah, yeah, my bad, dude. Won’t happen again.”

Jax doesn’t say anything else, just gives the slightest nod over the man’s right shoulder.

That’s all it takes.

Before he can even process what’s happening, Chibs and Happy are already in motion, leading him away. No fuss, no disruption – a quiet removal, seamless enough that no one at the reception even notices.

Your lips twitch, heat pooling low in your belly as you watch Jax handle it with effortless dominance. The way control rolls off him in waves makes your mouth water with want. Arousal spreads through you like wildfire, licking at your skin, making you hyperaware of every inch of space between you and Jax – space you desperately want to erase.

He doesn’t move for a second. His hand lingers on you – claiming and unmistakable. His fingers tighten at your waist, and then he leans in, his lips brushing just below your ear before nipping at the sensitive skin. “Can’t leave you alone for a second without you gettin’ into trouble, huh?”

His voice is velvet wrapped danger, smooth and lazy. It sends a thrill straight through you.

You turn in his grasp, looking up at him through your lashes, a perfect mix of innocence and desire in your eyes. The whiskey hums through your veins, but it’s not that. It’s him.

The way he stepped in like he owned you, like there was never any doubt.

Your thighs press together in search of relief, pussy fluttering. A deep ache blooming in your belly, needy for him.

Slow and sinuous you lift your arm, winding it around his neck as you rise on your toes. A delicate, teasing kiss lands against his cheek, his beard rough against your lips. Your mouth hovers just over his ear as you whisper, “Call me your damsel in distress.”

Jax exhales sharply through his nose, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. His fingers flex tighter against you, digging in to keep himself steady.

“You want me to save you, darlin’?” His tone is playful, but you hear it – that slow-burning restraint, the control that’s this close to slipping.

You don’t miss a beat. You want him so bad.

“No. I’d rather you fuck me.”

The shift is instant.

Jax stills, a sharp breath hisses between his teeth. His smirk fades – not gone, just different now. Darker. Hungrier.

And then he’s moving – fast. His grip is firm as he grabs your wrist and starts leading you away. Not rough, but absolute. No hesitation.

Just pure, raw intent.

The reception is still buzzing around you, the music, and the laughter – but it all fades as Jax weaves through the outskirts of the crowd, guiding you toward the dimly lit edge of the property. Past the glow of string lights, past the open spaces where people might see.

Then, suddenly, you’re against a wall.

The wood of the garden shed scratches into your back, but you barely register it because Jax is right there, crowding into you – his knee sliding between your thighs, pressing against you just enough to make you gasp.

His hands roam – one gripping your ass, the other curling around your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. In your peripheral, you catch a glint of his SONS ring, a reminder of who he is and what he’s capable of.

His breath is hot when he leans in, laced with beer and nicotine, dizzying. His chest rises and falls faster than usual, his grip tightening as he takes in the way you tremble beneath him. Like he feels it too – the arousal and the hunger.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he growls. His right hand remains on your jaw, keeping your lust blown eyes fixated on him. His other hand gripped tighter against your plush thigh, pressing into the fabric of your dress like he’s debating whether to rip it or slide it up.

You smile slyly at him, still buzzing, still feeling yourself from the whiskey and the way he claimed you before. “A little bit,” you admit, your voice dripping with daring.

Jax lets out a slow, measured breath through his nose, his fingers sliding lower, skimming the bare skin of your plump thigh.

“You’ve been a tease all night,” he rasps, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you, knowing what’s not under this dress?” His fingers pressing into you just a little more firmly.

You swallow hard, pulse racing. Your voice is barely a whisper as you tilt your chin up. “And what are you going to do about it?”

His last shred of restraint snapped, and his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His hands were everywhere – cupping your face, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed you firmly against the wall.

“Mine,” he growled against your mouth, the word rough and possessive as his hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your ass, and lifting you slightly so you could feel how hard he was for you.

You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he buried his face in your neck – lips, teeth, and tongue setting your skin on fire.

"Jax," you choked out, your head falling back against the wall as his mouth traveled lower – sucking, biting, bruising – until your knees threatened to buckle.

But your body had a mind of its own, pressing into him – desperate, aching – your pussy throbbing against the hard length of him, needing more.

“You like this, don’t you?” he hissed as he trailed kisses back up to your neck. “Knowing I’m losing my goddamn mind over you.”

A wicked smirk tugged at your lips, your nails raking lightly down his kutte. “I think you love it,” you taunted. “Knowing I’m just as fucked up over you.”

Jax lets out a low grunt while his hand slipped between your thighs. His fingers found your clit, grazing it teasingly, making you jolt against him.

“Shiiiit,” he draws out, his forehead pressing to yours as he felt just how wet you were for him. “You’re drippin’ for me, sweetheart.”

Before you could retort, Jax yanked you forward slightly, and in one swift motion, he spun you around, pressing your front against the wall. His hands moved, one splayed against your hip, the other slipping back between your thighs – teasing, torturing.

His lips found the nape of your neck, sucking and biting as he pushed your dress up, the fabric gathering around your waist, exposing you completely to him. You’re utterly intoxicated – by his touch, his scent, the unrestrained intensity radiating off him.

You hear the hurried clink of his belt, the rasp of the zipper – and then his finger slides into you – curling just right, pulling a sharp cry from your lips as your legs spread wider on instinct.

Jax grins against your cheek, clearly pleased with himself. “Good girl,” he praises, voice dripping with approval.

Then he pushes another finger inside, his pace steady – driving you higher and higher while his other hand worked himself free.

Your lips parted, a deep moan escaping as you pressed back against him, rolling your hips to feel more of his fingers in your aching cunt. “I’ve been thinking about your cock fucking me all night.” You managed to stutter out as his fingers continued their assault inside you.

“Fuck,” he groaned out, his thumb gliding against your sensitive clit.

You shuddered, arching into his touch as his fingers teased you, spreading your arousal. A needy whine escaped your lips when he pulled away – and a low, cocky grunt rumbled from his chest at you.

But he didn’t linger. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you into position as the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, rubbing and teasing, driving you to the edge of desperation.

“Tell me you want it,” he demanded as he held himself there, teasing – poised to take you.

“I want you, Jax. Please.” you breathed, your fingers curling against the wall as you pushed back against him.

With one sharp thrust, he filled you, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. You cried out, your hands bracing against the wall as he buried himself inside you, his grip on you tight enough to leave marks.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he paused, letting you adjust to him. “You feel so fucking good.”

You could barely form words, your body quivering as you clenched around him, your breath coming in shallow pants. “Fuck, Jax! Please.” you begged again, your voice pleading.

He didn’t need any more encouragement.

He pulled back slowly, the drag of him torturously slow, before slamming back into you. The force of it sent a shockwave through your body, and you moaned loudly, your head falling forward as he set a punishing rhythm.

“Look at you,” he praised, his hand sliding up your side, cupping your breast, the other keeping you steady as he rutted into you. “Taking me so fucking well.”

The mixture of pleasure and the exhilaration of being semi-public had you spiraling quickly, the sounds of your pleas mingling with the faint noise of the party in the background. You were his – and the way he moved, the way he filled you so completely, left no room for doubt.

“Mine,” he growled into your neck, low and possessive.

And in that moment, you knew it was true.

The force of Jax's movements had you seeing stars, your body trembling against the shed as he plunged into you relentlessly. Each motion sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building tighter until you were barely clinging to sanity.

“Jax,” you mewled, his name spilling from your lips in gasps, your breath catching with every snap of his hips.

Your nails scraped against the surface of the wall as you fought against your impending climax. “I’m close,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the pressure inside you reached its peak.

He didn’t slow. If anything, your words only egged him on, his pace quickening as he took you, each movement punctuated by his throaty grunts.

His hand snaked up, wrapping gently but firmly around your throat, tipping your head back so his lips could brush against you. “You’re mine,” he growled. “Say it.”

Your breath hitched, the pressure of his hand on your throat sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. His movements becoming more desperate and commanding. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed into the night, mixing with your breathless moans and his rough groans.

When you didn’t respond fast enough, he pulled back slightly, just enough to swat at your exposed bottom with his free hand, the sharp sting sending another rush of heat through you.

“Be a good girl,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The combination of his words, his touch, and the unrelenting pleasure coursing through you was too much. You were helpless against his assault as you cried out, “I’m yours, Jax! I’m yours!”

His growl was pure satisfaction, his grip tightening slightly on your throat as he drove into you harder, chasing his own release.

It sent you hurtling over the edge, your body clenching around him as your climax crashed through you, leaving you gasping and shaking in his arms. The intensity of it stole your breath, your cries muffled as his hand slid to cup your jaw, tilting your head back to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

The way you fell apart around him was enough to push him to his own orgasm. With a few more hard, deep strokes – a low, raw groan tore from his chest as he came. His body tensed against yours, his grip unyielding as he spilled into you, marking you in every way he could.

For just a moment, the world was silent except for the sound of your mingled breaths, the faint hum of the party in the distance, a reminder of just how exposed you were.

Jax pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered, “Fuck, darlin’. You drive me insane.”

You managed a weak laugh, your body still trembling as you leaned back against him, letting his arms hold you steady. “You love it,” you purred in full confidence.

Jax held you, his hands resting gently on your hips as you both caught your breath. His lips brushed the side of your neck in a way that sent a lingering heat down your spine, the earlier intensity now softened into something more intimate.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, but laced with genuine care.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes over your shoulder with a small, breathless smile. “More than okay.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a grin, and he brushed a light kiss to your shoulder before pulling back just enough to straighten your dress. His fingers lingered on the fabric, smoothing it down over your round hips and curvy ass with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

He backed up, tucking himself back into his pants, fingers working the button and fastening his belt. When you spun around to face him, your eyes met his lazy smile, the night reflected in the spark of his blue eyes.

He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in to steal a kiss that left you breathless all over again. “In case I didn’t mention it earlier, you look fucking sexy tonight, babe,” he husked, finishing his words with a playful nip to your lips.

You giggled softly, pulling away to adjust the sleeve of your dress and run your fingers through your hair in a half-hearted attempt to fix it. “I’m gonna pull myself together before I head back. You should go first.”

Jax’s expression turned wicked, his lips twitching with amusement as he gripped you, pulling you flush against him. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing playfully as he leaned in, his voice dropping lower. “I can’t wait to taste me in you later,” he rasped, the gravelly edge of his tone igniting another pulse of heat in your core, your breath hitching at the sheer filth of it.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with a wide-eyed look before your own lips curled into a teasing grin. You bit your lip, trying to regain your composure as you smoothed down your dress one last time. “I think I’ve had enough of that party for one night. Meet me at my place in thirty minutes?”

His gaze softened, a hint of warmth dancing in his eyes as he lifted a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. “I’ll be there,” he promised, his tone intimate.

He stepped back, running a hand through his hair before adjusting the collar of his kutte, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the tension. There was a confident swagger in his movements, casual and unhurried as he prepared to head back to the party, but the hunger in his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer, before giving you a wink.

You slipped away toward the bathrooms, your pulse still racing and your body buzzing from everything that had just happened. The anticipation of what was still to come was almost too much to handle, but you managed to keep your cool as you disappeared around the corner.

You knew Jax was watching until you were out of sight, a faint hint of mischief still resting on his lips as he adjusted his kutte one last time before heading back to say his goodbyes.

Thirty minutes couldn’t come fast enough.

Night & Morning (part 2 - a ‘lil prequel)

#jax teller #jax teller x reader smut #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #jax teller fic #jax teller fanfiction #soa jax #jax teller smut #charlie hunnam characters #Charlie Hunnam #jax teller x plus size reader #Jax teller x curvy reader

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baby-yongbok · 8 months ago

Text

This is How It Feels

Bang Chan Soft Thought

WC - 675 ✧ Masterlist ✧

a/n - This was typed based off of an overwhelming feeling I got while listening to This is How It Feels by d4vd and Laufey so I'm sorry if it's kinda messy. Hope you enjoy!

Chan has been dreaming of you again.

He has for a while. He's found that it gets more painful with the frequency of frames that pass his still lids in the night.

He can only describe it as an act of masochism. The epitome of pleasure and pain intertwining to create what we've all come to know as love. But Chan didn't always love you, not like this. He was able to keep you in a lighter gaze. He was able to separate you from his desires until you became the center of them all.

It was 3:30 am when he first noticed it. He was on the phone with you, something that the two of you do when he can't sleep. You had passed out an hour ago but he stayed on the call. He listened to the soft sound of your breathing and memorized the pattern of your snores.

You groaned and turned in your sleep and he heard it all. For a second, he held his arms open for you to slot between them. He held himself open to embrace your absent figure before he could even realize it.

Chan stood awake that night. Staring at the ceiling with the sweet sounds of you creating storms in his busy mind. You've unearthed something new in him. His heart turned and he found something underneath.

He found love.

He was content on dry drowning through his emotions after that night. He was okay with taking the bare minimum from your soft and generous hands just to imagine that it could be more one day.

It took another night of listening to you sigh and snore through the night for him to realize that this is just a pain he'll have to deal with. Confessing is not an option in his busy mind. It would be the introduction to the end, and that would kill him. Though, he is sure that you’ll be the death of him either way.

Chan convinced himself that he's content with these phone calls. The act of falling into a deep peace beside you felt natural for him. It felt right.

When 3:30 am snuck up on him during this call he sighed as the whirlwind picked up in his chest.

The thoughts

The desires

The pain

The love

It all belongs to you, and you'll never know it.

The warm and erratic fluttering against a rib cage too small to contain the swelling of his heart has become a familiar sensation on nights like these. The shadow of swirling rose colored smoke that he's been desperate to pass to you is something that he'll have to inhale by himself.

You. This atmosphere that the two of you have created. This connection that vibrates strong through time and space has metamorphosed him in the dark hours of the night like magic.

And suddenly, he feels it spilling over. Bubbling tall and staining the fabric of his sanity.

"You always fall asleep first..." Chan whispers into the receiver as he turns to face his phone. To face you. "I'm jealous."

He chuckles, closing his eyes as the whirling in his chest gets lighter with each word he speaks.

"I wish I could join you... or maybe you join me. I wish you were.. here. I wish you were here." He's whispering, his heart pounding loud in his ears. Parts of him dissolve in the quiet night, he wishes you were here to fill in the gaps.

"While you're sleeping I'm falling in love." He smiles to himself. "I never knew that this is how it would feel to fall for you."

He sighs, laying on his back now. He stares at the ceiling, imagining constellations that should have your name.

"It's hopeless." Chan looks back over to his phone. Your soft breathing has slowed. It's quiet, and for a second, he convinces himself that he doesn't care if you hear him. He takes a leap of faith and says it. Simple and soft.

"I love you so much."

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honied-bumblebee · 10 months ago

Text

✨️🪞Glamour Magick🪞✨️

Glamour magick is a spell that you cast on yourself to change how others perceive you.

The key to this working is to manifest your intent. It's a placebo effect. If you believe it is real, it will become real (in a sense).

Normally glamour magick is preformed while getting ready for the day, night, or an event (school, date, outing exc. exc.) Which means it blends into the mundane.

You can create oils and blends anything your heart desires, even magickly infused foods and drinks, or you can use what you already have: shampoo, hair brush, makeup, moisturizer, toothpaste exc exc.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A good place to start is with:

color magick/correspondences

♡Red- confidence, romantic love, strength

♡Pink- self love, kindness, platonic love, softness

♡Orange- creativity, energy, sucess

♡Yellow- happiness, joy, positivity

♡Green- luck, healing, money manifestation

♡Blue- peace, calm, clairity, communication

♡Purple- imagination, intuition, peace

♡Brown- friendship, security, stability

♡Black- protection, banishing

♡White- clensing, peace, truth

♡Silver- healing

♡Gold- sucess, wealth

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Moving on, we will get into more correspondences/enchantments in glamour magick.

Bath/Body 🛁

• Shampoo- clenses negativity

• Conditioner- restores positivity

• Body scrub- removes negative energy

• Lotion- (varies by scent), softness

• Hair oil/ leave in conditioner- protection

• Deep conditioner- restores positive energy

Skincare 🪞

• Facial cleanser- removes negative energy

• Facial scrub- clenses negativity

• Moisturizer- protection, restores positive energy

• Serums- (varies by ingredient), locks in good energy

• Spot treatments- conceals what you do not wish to be seen

• Eye masks- clairity

• Lip masks- sweetens your words

• Suncreen- protection

Makeup 💄

• Mascara/eyeliner- see through lies, enhance your eyes beauty

• Lip products- people will listen when you speak, sweeten your words/influence

• Eyeshadow- (varies by color)

• Concealer- to hide what others should not know

• Highlighter- to apear more radiant/glowing

• Blush- to appear innocent and soft

Other 🐚

• Toothpaste/Toothbrush- clense negativity

• Hairbrush- remove negative energy

• Nail polish- (varies by color)

• Glasses- to see what others cannot

• Hair- Braid your hair with your intentions

• Perfume- (varies by scent)

• Clothing- (varies by color)

• Jewelry- (varies by intent)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Remember, affirmations and enchantments are key to glamours

• say or think corresponding affirmations while doing your skincare or makup

• enchant everything you use with intentions, you could even put sigils on them

• enchant your jewelry for a specific purpose

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

This is from my personal grimoire, thus my own opinions on glamours.

you can reblog with other glamour related tips and tricks 💕

#witch #witchcraft #glamour magick #glamour #glamour witchcraft #witch tips #glamour tips #personal #glamour witch

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

Note

I need a breeding kink blurb PLS 🙏🙏🙏

⛔️ WARNING ‼️ SMUTTY SMUT BREEDING KINK SIZE KINK ALL THE KINK (enjoy 🤭) + plus a link to an audio porn on tumblr to really get into that wet pussy sound 🙈 I'm so sorry in advance but I am in fact ovulating according to my calculator and this was... Anyway there's no plot, this is basically only smut. PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU'RE NOT INTO THIS KIND OF THING THANK YOU

587 words

😈😈😈😈

"Oh baby... look a'you... getting stuffed so deep. Loves getting her little pussy filled up and bred yeah? Need Daddy's come honey? Need me to put more babies in this belly? Fuck you til your tummy's swollen, your tits are full of milk, and pussy ruined?"

"Mmm..." you tried moaning but you were out of breath and your gargled noises were stifled by the way he was plowing into you, long and heavy strokes that dipped into your guts and punched the air from your lungs. All you could do was lie there with your legs spread apart as he fucked the life from you. His fat cock was making your walls ache he'd been going at if for so long.

"Can't speak, little mama? Don't want the kids to hear do we? That's right... just let daddy fuck you til your come hole is full of my sperm and let it sink in deep so I can knock you up over and over again. Likes her pussy stuffed with cock and come and her womb full of babies..."

Harry loved it when you were pregnant. You already had two kids and he was raring to go for a third. But so were you. You loved watching him be a dad. And you'd love to see him holding another tiny baby again - your tall, tattooed, and strong husband holding that delicate bundle against his chest with tears in his eyes, humming a tune and swaying slowly back and forth. Just for that, you'd give him as many babies as he wanted.

"Already had you stuffed with all my cream this morning, now here you are all sweaty and gagging for more. Fucking need it don't you? Gonna take my come honey? Little mama wants it, yeah?"

You could barely nod but you managed to knock your head back and forth. You were exhausted after he'd already given you two orgasms but now you could feel him coming to his end, his arms were shaking and his thrusts were getting sloppy with that big cock twitching as he stretched your walls. His impressive size was addicting.

"You ready? Think you can take another load?"

"Mmmm..." a pathetic wet mumble fell from your lips as Harry choked out a groan, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake the kids and you felt him throb and throb as he dropped his mouth open wide and pasted his hips against yours, unloading hours and hours worth of vital come into your womb, his balls emptying every drop inside of you.

You were very much done for by the time he pulled out but Harry wasn't. He angled your hips up with a heaving chest and stuffed himself back inside, holding his shaft to keep steady as he fucked his come into you, "There we go. Let's get that all in there," he watched as he dipped inward, keeping you full of his sperm, wet squelches (NSFW LINK - opens up a tumblr audio porn, no visuals 😈) coming from your pussy with the way he was plunging back into you to make sure his come didn't leak out, "Get that pussy fed and happy," he hissed as he pumped in gently, his cock sensitive to the touch after his orgasm.

He enjoyed the view of it... your shiny puffy pussy wrapped around his thick shaft as he pushed his come back inside you until he couldn't stay hard any longer. You were sure that was baby number three.

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suprababka · 3 months ago

Note

hellooo~! I’m the same anon who req the Zombieman txt hcs earlier and LOVED it ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ soo I have another req and it’s Zombieman + nsfw hcs if you don’t mind 😇

I love all ur opm work ✨

Helloooo!👋 I'm really happy to hear it!! Thank you for your positive feedback and for the request! I see someone is thirsty, eh?😏 (don't worry, me too) And as always, I'm sorry for taking it so long🙏🙏🙏 If something is not right, please let me know, and I'll fix it. Have fun!💕

General NSFW headcanons

T/W: NSWF content! Minors, do NOT interact!!!🔞🔞🔞 (also me: *writes for Metal Bat*... but he's at least 17... right?)

A/N: the moment you all have been waiting for, huh?😏 Well, me too :D

(Update: I've finally finished writing headcanons... Damn, I'm so nasty😇 And again, sorry for not posting sooner! I really wanted to publish these hcs at least one week ago (before I went on a trip), but unfortunately, I didn't manage to write this in time. But hey, at least I'm back now😉)

Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs and following me! I really appreciate your feedback and support, guys!🥰🫶

You can check my masterlist to see more of my other works.

Prepare for possible OOC!

Also be aware of implied fem!reader!

(Sorry if there are any mistakes!)

And, most importantly, enjoy!!!

(I actually believe he's asexual, but let's ignore this all together)

(can't have Saitama stans disappointed, can I?)

You'll be the first to initiate anything sexual (as always)

And it's likely that you'd take the lead most of the time

'Cause, firstly, Saitama is lazy

Secondly, why should he be a dom when he can just lay with you on top of him and just watch how your tits jiggle and feel your ass slapping against him?

(and of course to subconsciously dig his fingers into your butt cheeks)

Thirdly, he's low-key afraid that he can get lost in the moment and lose all his restraint, leading to hurting you (if he takes the lead)

Saitama is not vocal, by the way

Maximum what you can hear are his rear grunts

Oh, and of course he will have his usual unperturbed face

Like seriously, even when he comes he doesn't even blink

Speaking of his cum, it springs out of his cock like streams of water from water gun

Not in one "shot", but in like three ones with a measured periodicity

It actually tastes not bad

By the way, Saitama likes to cover your boobs with his sperm

He freaking loves your breasts

(this dude literally has an Oppai hoodie, remember💀)

And when it comes to sex, your boyfriend LOVES to grab, squeeze and suck on your tits

If you're flat, he still likes to pinch your nipples and bite them

Saitama also likes to wrap your boobies around his cock and rub it between them

Bonus points if you kiss or lick his tip

Speaking of which, I think he isn't into oral sex

Not receiving nor giving

Buuuuuuut fingerfucking you is something that he can go with

And let me tell you, he is good at this

Not because Saitama knows your sensitive spots or something like that, but because the speed and intensity of his touch sends you over the moon in a rather shot time

It makes him feel glad that he can use his strength not only in fights with monsters

Almost nothing arouses Saitama

Not seducing poses, sexy outfits or lingerie, dirty talk, etc.

Nothing... except for you touch

Trace your fingers along his muscular back, and he's done for

(make sure that you're at home because Saitama isn't a fan of public sex... but if you rile him up outdoors, he'll wait until you get back home where he can his way with you)

Fun fact: your boyfriend suddenly feels a need to get off now and then when you're not around and you two didn't have sex for a while, so he buys a few porn magazines and jerks off in the toilet

(but it doesn't bring him much pleasure)

I know I said that Saitama prefers to be submissive, but I still don't deny that he sometimes likes to take the lead too

Usually, it happens when your playful banter turns into a hot make out, which leads to… your boyfriend roughly pounding into you

Or when you just ask him to be on top🤷‍♀️

He'll take it slow and gently, not wanting to hurt you, in first times he's dom

Later, you both find the speed and intensity of his thrusts that are comfortable for both of you

Gladly, Saitama gets a hang of controlling his strength

(though, there are some "incidents" when your bed or whatever you were having sex on end up breaking)

Be assured that you have one, but a long and rough round with your boyfriend

And believe me, you'll be too worn out to go on another one

As for aftercare, well, Saitama definitely wants to just lay together and do nothing except for cuddling

If you insist on cleaning up, he'll hesitantly comply

Even though he's lazy, your boyfriend takes care of you should you ask him

Feeling too tired to even walk? He'll carry you in his arms and even wash you

Want something to drink or eat? Saitama will bring you what you're asking for

Just give him five more minutes to lay... and don't expect him to complete your requests without being a little bit grumpy

After all, all he wants is to relax on the bed (and eventually fall asleep) with you by his side

(also, Saitama seems to be a type of guy who likes morning sex... and anal too)

Genos knows that sex is an essential part in relationships

What he doesn't know is how he should bring this topic up

People on the Internet say that they would indulge in lustful activities on the first day of their relationship, or it'd take them one year and even more to get intimate with their partner

The most important part is that your pair has to feel comfortable

And that's the problem

Your boyfriend is not lustful, so he for sure won't pressure you

But he also understands that you're likely to feel sexual attraction for him

So he settles with just waiting for you to make the first move

If you're not the one to initiate anything, he'll wait about six months and ask you if you're ready or not

It's canon that Genos doesn't have a dick

So your first times consisted of your boyfriend fingering you or performing cunnilingus

And, oh god, does he make an excellent job of making sure you're satisfied

You have to cum at least three times

Only after that, Genos lets you relax

Yeah, he kinda likes to overstimulate you

Even though you're more than satisfied, you want more

Your man's cock, to be exact

And you'll have to explain this to him

Genos listens to you intently and, after your talk with him, instantly calls Dr. Kuseno, asking him to modulate penis for him

With that serious and stoic expression on his face

(you can't hear it, but you know that even Dr. Kuseno is taken aback, but still complies)

As their dialog goes on, Genos asks you specifying questions like

What is a preferable length for the phallus? Should it be veiny or not? What about testes? Do you want them to be full of his sperm? And what about spermatozoa? How do you feel about pubes? Would you like his cock with skin or made of other material?

And all other stuff

Embarrassing

But necessary

Days later, Genos receives his cock

But there is one nuance: your boyfriend has to wear it like strap-on

Well, this doesn't disturb you from having great sex

Being intimate with your boyfriend starts bringing you much more pleasure

However, you feel like something is missing, as if you're having one-sided sex

After a while, you realize that Genos doesn't feel anything as his dick doesn't have sensibility

When you have a talk with him, he tells you that he doesn't mind it because your pleasure is his top priority

You tell that you want him to enjoy sex as well, and Genos doesn't protest

He calls Dr. Kuseno and asks to fix the issue

After that, the real sex begins

Instead of just silently staring at you with a calculating look, your boyfriend starts slightly moaning and lavishing you with praises of how good you feel

Moreover, Genos starts being more touchy, caressing your curves

Your boyfriend is always up for experiments in bed

The same goes to kinks

He'll do whatever you want: using sex toys, talking to you dirty, blindfolding you, tying you up, stripping, cockwarming, role-playing, performing anilingus, pegging him, etc.

Idk why, but I get a feeling that he has preference for temperature play

Genos is okay with public sex btw

(if you tell him you want him, he'll stop in the middle of a street/shop/where else and bend over to your pussy)

(so you gotta stop him and lead him into a more secure place before both of you make a scene)

He won't do anything that can somehow hurt you

BDSM, whipping, spanking, choking and other stuff is a total no for him

Like I've mentioned before, Genos doesn't get horny

And this goes even after his cock gets sensitive

Hence, you gotta tell him straight away that you're in mood

What else I can say?

Your boyfriend doesn't have a favourite pose

As for the way he cums... well, he usually ejaculates in you because his sperms aren't active

(I forgot to mention that he also doesn't really like when you give him head)

(no, not because you do it badly, you're actually quite good at this)

(but because, for him, sex is all about pleasuring you)

Genos is great at aftercare

He will do anything you ask him without any complaint

Carry you in his arms and wash you, bring you some water or food, give you nice massage so you won't be sore, cuddle with you – everything you need

(erm, I've just thought… since Genos' sperm is modified, what if it can be with flavorful?)

Sex wasn't something that interested Sonic

That was until he got in a relationship with you

He starts thinking of it after a few months of dating you

In some evenings when he's alone, your boyfriend can't help but imagine how your adorable laughter would turn into soft moans and gasps, how his hands would move from caressing your sides to your more intimate parts, how his lips would explore not only your mouth, but your whole body as well...

When these thoughts appear, Sonic finds himself immediately touching himself

Oh, how he would love it if your lips were wrapped around his cock instead of his fingers

But these are only his wishes because he doesn't want you to think he's a pervert

So he doesn't come up with this topic

Until he unconsciously squeezes your ass cheek while making out with you

Which makes you slightly moan into his mouth

After that, he goes wild

Gladly, you're in mood for sex as well

Sonic loves playing with you and teasing you, but not in overbearing way

He just wants you to desire him as much as he desires you

Expect a trail of hickeys down your pussy

And especially on your inner thighs

This man is crazy about them

He grabs, squeezes, kisses, bites them and rubs his cheek against your soft flesh

Don't worry, your cunt isn't deprived of his love

Your boyfriend eats you out as if he eats a juicy peach

You're so sweet and tasty

Mostly, Sonic is the one who gives head

Why? Because he cums rather quickly when you give him a blowjob and feels embarrassed afterwards

(well, I guess he doesn't lie when he says he's fast at everything, huh?)

Your boyfriend is not rough nor too gentle while making love to you

He finds the perfect pace for both of you

And turns into whimpering and moaning mess

You just feel heavenly

By the way, he likes to take you from behind

Do you know what else he likes?

BO-NDA-GE

He's a well-trained ninja and is taught how to tie people up

(he even said so in one of OVAs)

So of course he uses his skills on you

There is something about the way how your body looks when the rope compresses you

Sonic is a switch

And this is where mommy kink enters the chat

I feel like he calls you mommy and only after that realizes what he even said

After this situation, he starts calling you that only if you're comfortable with it

(he also gets aroused when you scold him)

But no, your boyfriend doesn't let you tie him up

Nuh-uh, this is a privilege that only he can have

He lets you know that he's in the mood by giving you playful hints and looking at you with a smirk

Sonic is open to public and period sex

And he can be easily seduced should you take a provocative pose or simply wink at him

Remember I told you that he loves your thighs?

The way they fold when you sit down makes him pray to god or whoever there is for him to NOT get hard

And silly me didn't mention that he prefers to cum on your thighs as well

(or on your face if you're giving him oral)

You usually have 1-2 satisfying rounds that leave both of you trembling and panting out of pure ecstasy

Sonic holds you in his for a while and proceeds to clean you up with wet cloth

If you need water, he'll bring you it

But that's all

It's not that your boyfriend doesn't want to take care of you

But he's feeling clingy

All Sonic really wants is to just cuddle with you, burying his face in your hair and listening to your snuffling

(I didn't know where to put it, so I'll just leave this here: Sonic even records your moans so he could listen to them when you're not with)

I headcanon that Garou used to steal porn magazines from Bang or other dudes in dojo and read them on the sly when he hit puberty

He would look at models in erotic lingeries and giggle

For some reason, this made him feel like a rebel, like he was an adult

But it didn't last long as he became completely focused on his trainings

And even when he gets out of dojo, he doesn't pay attention to all seductively dressed girls

This continues, especially when he starts dating you

Other women practically disappear for him because his eyes are always on you

One day Garou accidentally walks on you changing

Even though he quickly turns around and leaves the room, he can't get the picture of you out of his mind

Something wakes up inside him

After that, he can't help but stare at your tempting lips, the way you sway your hips while going somewhere, how your boobs seem to bounce a little while you're walking

Oh, and how your butt starts looking so inviting to slap or squeeze it

Yeah, he starts feeling something that he hasn't felt for a long time

(don't get me wrong, though, you don't turn into a sex object for him)

So, how you start having sex?

The answer is quite simple: by making out

You sit on your boyfriend's lap with your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on your hips supporting you

Then you subconsciously start grinding your folds against his thigh

And Garou instinctually helps you to do that

Both of you are too engrossed to notice what you're doing

Your moves become more intensive and soft moans begin to erupt from your mouth

Soon enough, it gets too much for you and you let go

You realize what happened when you come from high

You embarrassedly look at your boyfriend, who is staring at you with a wide smirk

(congratulations! new kink unlocked: dry humping)

And, of course, he doesn't waste an opportunity to tease you by making a "witty" remark

He takes you in his hands and carries you to the bedroom

I believe that he is rather gentle and sweet in your first times

Both because he doesn't want to somehow scare you away from him and because he's inexperienced

But he IS a fast learner, so he gets a hang of it rather quickly

If you ask him to be rougher, he will comply

Just know that he gets hella cocky

If he used to make you cum with his fingers, now he makes you work for it

Yes, honey, meet orgasm denial

You'll face it every time Garou fingers you as a foreplay

But when you finally reach your peak, he pulls out his fingers and shoves them into your mouth so you could get a taste of yourself

(and to feel your tongue around his fingers as well)

If your boyfriend used to gently support your head while you were sucking his cock, now his hands helps you take him deeper + he bucks his hips

(but he doesn't overdo it, so you don't feel uncomfortable)

(also, he is a type of guy who doesn't like his ball getting played with)

Yeah, Garou is not a big fan of eating you out because he can't fully see your face

(and come on, have you seen his fingers? I can only imagine what wonders they're capable of🥵)

He freaking loves to watch your facial expressions and see how good he makes you feel

Get acquainted with another kink: katoptronophilia or, in other words, mirror sex

Sometimes your face isn't enough for your boyfriend, and he wants to look at your body as well

He even records your sex on camera one time

He also likes to spank you

(but not hard, he hates a thought of even slightly hurting you)

Ooooh, jealousy sex with this man....

Garou makes sure that you remember you're his and his alone

He skips foreplay by roughly inserting two fingers into you and moving them until you're wet enough to take him

He definitely roughly fucks you in a doggy style

Don't forget about your old friend orgasm denial!

As you're about to cum, your boyfriend pulls out his dick, making you whimper in dissatisfaction

He pulls in soon enough, and when you're close again, he removes himself from you

This happens at least three times

His orgasm follows yours not long after

He cums deep inside you

Yeah, it turns out that your boyfriend has a breeding kink

Not in a way that he wants you to get pregnant

(that's why he is okay with getting himself a vasectomy)

But in the way how amazing it feels ejaculating in you

And how he loves to watch his cum drip out of your cunt/ass down your thighs and on bedsheets

I think you should have already figured out that Garou is always dom

Nuh-uh, he won't let you take the lead

He is also up for public sex and has no shame in teasing you

For example, you take your boyfriend to shopping with you one day

After two or three hours of strolling, Garou gets kinda bored

No, of course he loves spending time with you

But he wants to do something else, besides walking from one boutique to another

Well, alright, he gets to see you try on different outfits, that's a bonus

As you come out of the dressing room in a short dress that perfectly suits you, he appreciates your look and presses you against the wall, making sure to lock the door into the changing room

His lips are hungrily on yours and his hand moves down to your panties

You try to protest, but of course fail

His touch is so good

As you're about to cum, your boyfriend suddenly lets go of you and walks out of the dressing room, saying that he'll wait for you outside

Yeah, this bastard leaves you sexually frustrated and wanting more

Looks like your shopping has to be abruptly finished

Garou is also straightforward at telling you that he's horny

He either props his hard cock against your butt

Or hugs you from behind, burying his face into your neck and peppering it with kisses, while one of his hands cups your breast and the other one starts pleasuring your pussy

What turns Garou on?

He doesn't even know how to explain it, but...

Simply, your cuteness and innocence

Aaaaand also when you wear his clothes or show off your new lingerie

Garou is rather sweet and tender when it comes to taking care of you after sex

He asks if you're alright and if you need anything

He picks you up and helps you to shower

After that, he cuddles with you in bed and talks to you until you fall asleep

He'll admire your adorable sleeping face, thinking how lucky he is to have you by his side

(you might get an impression that he's very rough during sex, but I believe Garou manages to find perfect the golden mean between being too soft and being too harsh with you)

(like I've mentioned, you feel comfortable while having sex with your boyfriend even when he is meant to be "strict" with you)

(one of the reasons why he's always watching your face while making love to you is to detect any discomfort and take care of it if it appears)

(after all, Garou would be damned if he somehow hurt the person he loves so much)

(off-topic, but his cock is veiny)

This boy is a teenager with raging hormones

No, he is not horny all the time and, moreover, is not looking for hook-ups

In addition, his work is quite stressful, so he needs to get off to release all his tension

And the only way to do this is... jerking off

Metal Bat finds himself masturbating in the bathroom at least once in a week

(he doesn't have time and privacy to do it more often)

When you appear in his life, the need to cum recedes into the background

You and your presence easily take weight off his shoulders and make all problems fade away

But his hormones are active, remember

So some months later, Badd starts feeling an urge to be close to you as much as possible, to explore your body with his hands, to kiss all over your neck and go down with his lips, to see your flushed face and to hear your moans...

An old habit of his comes back

Now Metal Bat fantasizes about you while pleasuring himself

(he also starts masturbating more often than he used to)

He imagines how your naked body looks like, how soft your breasts are in his hands, how your tight pussy wraps around his cock, how much pleasure he gives you and how good you feel...

He always feels embarrassed and guilty afterwards

Because he feels like a pervert for thinking about you in inappropriate ways

So Badd doesn't pressure you into sex because he respects your boundaries

But god dammit, how it's difficult for him to ignore the tightness in his pants when you're around him and the way his dick twitches when you touch him

It gets even more hard for him as he starts having wet dreams about you and waking up with his boxers spotted with his semen

(he hardcorely prays for something like that NOT to happen when you're staying over)

Unfortunately or fortunately, your boyfriend gets a boner while making out with you at his place

(gladly, Zenko was staying over at her friend's place)

When you notice this, he stammers out apologies and pleads you to not see him as a pervert

He's surprised to hear that you want to have sex with him as well

And nervous because hasn't done this before and doesn't want to mess everything up

If you're experienced, Badd is embarrassed, but grateful for you taking the lead

If not, then he does his best not to screw up your first time together

Please be patient with him, this boy tries his best to give you pleasure

Making love to you is way better than he imagined

He becomes more bold and confident with every time you have sex

Metal Bat instantly falls in love with your pussy when he eats you out for the first time

You taste and smell amazing

He knows he's no pro at cunnilingus, but he doesn't stop until you cum

(sometimes he ejaculates in the process)

But he learns pretty fast

So soon enough, Badd knows the right spots to send you over the edge

And let me tell you that no lovemaking session goes without him absolutely devouring your cunt after spotting your body with his kisses

Really, he eats you out like a man starved

(what can I say? this man loves getting his most favourite dessert)

(he also tries to drink all of your juices when you reach the peak)

Even when you're about to give him a blowjob, he insists on at least kissing your folds

(and of course his sly tongue teasingly flicks against your pussy)

(he probably ends up performing you oral after you make a great job at sucking him off anyway)

Speaking of giving him a head, Metal Bat doesn't handle it well because of how freaking good it feels for him

He can't stand so much pleasure

Badd gently cradles your head with his hands, his thumbs brush away strands of your hair that can get in the way

Oh, how loud he gets...

He deeply moans, whimpers, whines, even sulks a little, gasps, hisses and repeats "Shit, love, it's so good, please don't stop"s like a prayer

Practically the same happens during sex

While your boyfriend doesn't act like a baby, he is still rather local

Mostly, he groans and tells you how perfect you are and how much he loves you, chanting your name

Please praise him as well, it means a lot to him

Otherwise, he'll get upset because he'll think he didn't satisfy you

If he needs to be quiet (for example, when Zenko is at home), he either peppers you with kisses and sucks on your skin or bites it down, always making sure that you don't feel pain

His most favourite pose is missionary because he gets to see your face and press his body against your

Badd doesn't like taking you from behind because...

He, no matter how strange it may sound, feels kinda lonely

And he's afraid that you might feel lonely as well

I know it doesn't really make sense, but it's important for Metal Bat to be close to you as much as possible

And just interlinking your bodies is not enough for him for this matter

The only exception is showering

When your boyfriend gets too horny and his sister is at his place, he takes you to the shower

Because he thinks that it muffles noises that both of you make the best

In addition, you get to immediately clean up

This happens quite regularly

In Zenko's eyes, you're definitely a good influence for his brother

Not only he starts taking showers more often with you (not that he didn't maintain his hygiene initially), but he also starts letting her hang out with her friends for longer and even stay over at their places

By the way, Badd is okay with being intimate with you on any surfaces, but inside his/your home

Yes, this man is not up for public sex

But if you're feeling playful and rile him up while you're out...

Except a rough treatment once you're back home

This is the only case when Metal Bat skips foreplay aka devouring your pussy by rubbing his finger against your folds

He also spits on his hand to use his saliva as lube

(but no, he'll never spit into your mouth)

(Idk why, but people ignore the detail that he spits on his hand with his bat before getting in the fight)

Speaking of his bat...

He kinda wants to see you ride it

(no, of course not as in stuffing yourself with it💀💀💀)

But as in tracing your folds along his bat

For some reason, the thought of it excites him

Wanna know what turns him on as well?

Lingering touches and looks

+ seeing you in your undies or wearing his clothes

(hint: the fastest way to make your boyfriend hot and bothered is… caressing his inner thighs)

Badd is a switch by the way

(but still prefers being dominant)

He likes it when you take the lead when you're having sex on the couch

Your boyfriend always tries his best to watch you and your body

But always ends up throwing his head back and closing his eyes because of the pleasure he's having

His nipples are sensitive. Period.

Lick or even slightly bite them – he's done for

What else?

Firstly, Metal Bat loves holding your hand while being intimate with you

It brings him a sense of reassurance that you're here and you love him

He also sees it as a way of showing his love for you and devotion to you

Secondly, your boyfriend is weak for your touch

And when you pull his hair? He freaking melts

(bonus points if you wrap your arms around his neck or place them on his shoulders)

(double points if you scratch his back with your nails)

Thirdly, sex with your boyfriend is messy

Mostly because of your and his love juices

His cock excretes precum rather fast... and a lot

(should you stroke his dick two times and his pants are already wet)

Fourthly, what if... his fighting spirit activates in bed too?👀

(I know that the main point is that he gets stronger with every hit he receives)

(and his ability has its name for a reason)

(but hear me out)

What if he gets rougher and more durable with each ejaculation, mmm?

(let's call his ability "love spirit" or "sex spirit"–)

(you know what, I'll leave it to your imagination)

So, usually, you have 2–3 rounds

The first one ends rather quickly due to Badd being edged while eating you out

The second round is longer and more intense

If you don't come, then your boyfriend makes sure to take you over the edge in the next one

Yeah, he won't stop until you reach your peak

Because he wants to satisfy you not only with his mouth, but with his dick as well

Only after that, he feels accomplished

I believe that Metal Bat's sperms are quite active, so it's risky for him to cum inside you

(even if your calendar says that chances of you getting pregnant are low)

So he prefers to ejaculate on your abdomen (if not in your pussy)

He grinds his cock along your swollen labia while riding out his orgasm

Badd nuzzles his face against your neck or kisses you deeply as he comes back to reality

After a while, he pulls back and asks if you're alright

He grabs wet wipes and cleans you up

For some reason, he finds this process endearing

He loves the feeling of caressing your tummy with his hands <3

If you want to take a shower after all, he will carry and wash you

But he'd rather just continue cuddling with you

Metal Bat brings your head to his chest and kisses the top of it, exhaling contentedly

You will talk for some time or just enjoy each other's presence until you fall back asleep

When Badd makes sure you're resting, he dozes off as well

(yes, this man has the biggest part, and I'm not sorry)

(my boy deserves all the attention in the world!!!)

If to be honest, one sentence is more than enough to describe how Amai is in bed:

He is a god of sex

That's all

Alright-alright, let's get down to business

So, I headcanon that Sweet Mask has experience in sex

When he was an arising star, he'd have one-night stands from time to time

Why not to put his popularity to use, huh?

However, when he gets admired by even more people, he realizes that hook-ups can lead to unpleasant scandals

So he removes sex from his life

Pop-idol doesn't feel any need to masturbate anyway

When he starts dating you, he understands that you'll have sex sooner or later

But decides not to bring this topic up until he's sure that you want him

How he acknowledges that you're ready to get intimate with him?

That's easy: by the way you stare at him longer than you should with a look that is far from being innocent and how you get more physical with him

Your boyfriend tells you that he'd like to take the next step in relationship and asks if you're ready as well on one of your dates at a fancy restaurant

(he already knows your answer, but doesn't want to come off rude)

You say that you want to take things to the next level

Congratulations, you've just sold your soul to the devil himself

Why? Well, how do I explain you this...

Amai loves being in control

So don't even dare to think about disobeying him and, moreover, taking the lead

He is always the dom

The foreplay is a sweet torture with Beaut

Because he makes you work and beg for his dick

(alright, he will be careful in first times, but he gradually prepares you for his... uh, games)

Usually, he tells you to sit naked on his bed with your legs spread open for him to see your pussy

After that, Sweet Mask commands you to pleasure yourself

As you begin touching yourself, he simply sits on the chair with his arms crossed and one leg draped over the other one

(voyeuristic much, huh?)

When you desperately try to reach your peak, he commands you to stop and stands up, telling you how helpless you are and that he will teach you how to please yourself

He inserts his two long fingers and starts moving them fiercely in your core

Soon enough, you let go

Your stimulation often consists of impact play as well

Again, you're sitting naked on the bed and blindfolded

Amai teasingly traces a crop or paddle along your skin

(and can even swat your ass with a whip)

This makes you hella aroused

You gasp and moan, begging for more

But your boyfriend doesn't stop

And he won't stop until you're a desperate, pleading mess, and he has enough of you

Then he rewards you with his dick... into your mouth

What, did you think that you could get off the hook that easily?

Let me tell you, this man is greedy in sex

So don't expect him to be nice to you

Beaut shoves his cock deep down your throat, making you gag and tear up

He bucks his hips and his hand has a strong grip on your hair

And of course, he doesn't let you waste a single drop of his sperm when he cums

You have to swallow it and then open your mouth to show him you did your job

After that, you finally have rough sex

Sweet Mask definitely loves role-play (or should I say interrogation play?)

He doesn't really have a favourite trope

But both of you are well aware that he will punish you

Sex with Amai is no less entertaining

I called him a god of sex for a reason

This man has a lot of kinks and is up for trying out new things in bed

You are into BDSM? Hold on, baby, he just needs to get his kit, and you're in for a ride

Want him to choke you? Your boyfriend is more than happy to comply

Call him daddy? Oh, daddy will show you how he loves being called like that

Feeling bratty? Expect a nice smack on your ass

Suggest putting his soft cock into you so it gets hard? This sounds intriguing, let's try it

Being too noisy? There will be a gag in your mouth

Doing great job today? Beaut praises you

Want to get frisky on his work? Huh, you little minx, you'll get what you want: just let your boyfriend lock you in his office/changing room and have his way with you

(he doesn't care if you two will be heard – let others hear how good he makes you feel)

(besides, it's not like they can do anything to him)

You're shy? That's too bad because Amai takes you in the front of the mirror from time to time

(and of course he doesn't waste an opportunity to admire his reflection)

You two had an unpleasant argument earlier? Then you're in for a makeup sex

Think you can handle cockwarming? That's bold of you, but keep in mind that you'll be the first one to give up

You're in a playful mood and want to use sex toys? Huh, Sweet Mask has a collection of them for you

You love it when you're sexually humiliated and degraded? No. It won't happen.

Well, yeah, Beaut is a dirty-dirty man, but he still has his sense of respect

You're his lover, not his whore

Speaking of being his, there is no way in hell he will let someone watch or join you two

He is the only one who can have power over you

And you are the only one who can satisfy him

Also, Amai doesn't like messy sex

He's pedant in this matter

So no abrasion (sexual arousal from harsh or scratchy surfaces), no food play, no urophilia (golden showers), no sploshing (being covered in different wet materials), no coprophilia (sexual arousal and pleasure from poop) and no blood play

Oh, he is clean and shaved down there

So he expects the same from you

This man cums in you, by the way

Yeah, breeding kink enters the chat

(manga spoiler: since "Sweet Mask has the ability to alternate his biophysical semblance to the point of even masking his genetic & thermal signature", I think he is able to control his spermatozoa, making them inactive to avoid unwanted pregnancy)

(and he adapts his dick to you)

Beaut is really gentle and affectionate with you in aftercare

He asks if he has hurt you somehow and if you need anything

If you don't fall asleep due to exhaustion by that moment, he scoops you in his arms and has a nice, hot bath with you

He gets out of the bathroom earlier than you so he can change your bedsheets

After that, he comes back to you and takes you to bed

Your boyfriend provides you with everything you ask him: food, water, massage, cuddles, late night talks, etc.

But you're quite quick to fall asleep, making Sweet Mask smirk pridefully and soon doze off as well

(I forgot to mention that everything Amai does during sex comes with your consent)

(so if you're uncomfortable with something, do tell him)

(he may be egocentric, but wants you to have pleasure as well)

(and you definitely have a stop word)

(oh, and I bet there is some secret folder in his phone gallery with some entertaining photos of you..)

So...

I think Flashy has never needed sex nor thought about it

He just went on with his hero work, being too busy to think about anything else

This changes when you, his dear girlfriend, come to his life

No, he doesn't get horny all of a sudden or thinks about you in an inappropriate way

S-class hero certainly ignores all your hints that you're ready to have sex with him

He does it not on purpose, he's just a dummy when it comes to flirting

So yeah, you have to be straightforward with him

But not necessary with words

It happens when you're having bath together

You sit on Flash's lap and start making out with him

Soon, both of you begin exploring each other's bodies with your hands, moaning in the kiss

Suddenly, you feel something poking your butt

It's his dick

As you break the kiss and want to tease your boyfriend, he gets ahead of you

He gives you a witty remark with a confident smile and turns you around, pinning you against the edge of the bath so your ass faces him

And then he starts eating you out, performing both cunnilingus and anilingus

(yep, you heard me right)

Flashy uses his mouth and fingers like a professional, despite him being inexperienced in this stuff

But how come he's good at it? We can only guess

He hits all your weak spots, making you reach your orgasm in a short time

After that, he pulls in and starts moving inside you

(and no, your boyfriend doesn't want you to give him blowjobs because...)

(well, because, lol🤷‍♀️)

(nah, the real reason is that he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable and, for him, having something gagging you in your throat is quite unpleasant experience)

Flashy Flash is uncharacteristically sweet and gentle with you during sex

And sex with Flash is sensual

He tenderly caresses your sides and back while rocking his hips

His lips leave a trail of soft kissed along your spine

His voice is like a sweet melody, coming from his mouth and praising you

That's so unlike Flashy Flash because he's always stoic and restrained in your relationship

Not to mention that he's hardly ever affectionate

But maybe that's how he makes up for all his coldness?

You'd think that since your boyfriend was egocentric, he'd show you how amazing he was in bed as well

However, he opens up to you from a different, vulnerable side

And you're not against this at all

Though don't forget that he's always the dom anyway

As for his fetishes, it might surprise you, but he is not into showing his full control over you and is not a fan of bondage like Sonic

He actually doesn't have kinks that much

But there are two main ones: wax play and quirofilia (attraction to hands)

Yes, Flashy Flash likes to drip the wax from candles onto your spine and watch how you arch your back

(don't worry, he makes sure that it won't be hot and painful for you)

So he buys specific candles for erotic stimulation that burn at a prefect temperature for you and their wax turns into massage oil

This lets him explore your body with his hands

And as you could already have guessed, he mostly takes you from behind

By the way, he also likes it when you run your fingers along his muscles

And he loves your hands in general

Not only the way how they feel on him, but how they look as well

Your boyfriend finds them aesthetic, as strange as it may sound

When I say that your hand do wonders to him, I meant they he not only feels pure ecstasy, but also can easily get aroused from your touch

Another turn on for Flash is your bratty attitude

For some reason, he finds it funny and endearing

And wants to put you in your place, either verbally or physically

But of course he always ends up being soft to you

Oh, and he definitely likes it when you play with his hair and slightly pull it

(he doesn't show it, but you know he enjoys it because he LETS you do so)

But don't think that you have all power over S-class hero

This man is a teasing bastard, especially in public

He moves his hand to your thighs and then between your legs

And starts rubbing your sensitive areas through the fabric

(thanks to his assassin skills, he does it without getting unnoticed)

As for you... well, you don't want to draw unnecessary attention, right?

So be a good girl and act like nothing happens

Your boyfriend really gets off from seeing you struggling with trying to ignore his touch

(maybe it's his way to get his revenge on you for your sassy attitude)

If you're both too horny to wait until you get home, he quickly takes you to the secure place and has sex with you rather fast (and rougher than usual)

Flashy Flash is straightforward when he feels aroused

No, he won't say it directly to you

But his intense gaze and suggestive caressing of your sides are more than enough for you to know that he wants you

Flash prefers to cum on your butt/lower back

And of course inside you as well

(erm, guys, I once had a dream that he likes it when his s/o lays on his chest with her legs spread open and shows him how his sperm is dripping out from her pussy)

(do what you want with this information)

(just don't ask me about it)

Your boyfriend always makes sure that you're both cleaned up after your love sessions

(yeah, sessionS because you usually have two good rounds)

He either wipes away all aftermath of your passion with wet clothes or washes you in the shower

After that, you're usually treated with a nice, relaxing massage

Flashy gently rubs all your muscles so you won't be sore on the next day

(because as much as he is careful during sex, you end up getting sore in the morning)

(but hey, it means he did you good, huh? ;))

If you don't fall asleep after getting aftercare from him, then he talks to you until he hears your soft snuffling

And only after that he can go to sleep as well

Zombieman was never interested in getting intimate with anyone

He didn't feel the need to do so

But when he gets in a relationship with you, he understands that sex will be brought up sooner or later

Zombieman is a gentleman

So he waits for you to be ready to take things onto another level

(and also reads a few articles about woman's body so he won't mess everything up and will 100% give you pleasure)

(well, it's not like your boyfriend doesn't have general knowledge about both woman's body structure and sex)

(he just wants to know nuances)

As you could have already guessed, you have to walk up to your boyfriend and tell him directly that you want to have sex with him

Because he respects your boundaries and never advances towards you

But he's happy to hear that you're ready to get intimate with him

For him, it's the most valuable way to show love and deep trust

Zombieman takes his time with making sure you're prepared for him

He presses you down to bed with his body, kisses you tenderly, doesn't hurry to take off your clothes, caresses your body

All in all, your boyfriend does everything to make you feel comfortable and only after that takes things further

I believe he prefers fingering you instead of eating you out

Because he loves admiring your face (especially when he's the one who gives you pleasure)

Though, Zombieman loves it when you give him a head

He gently guides your head with his hand and brushes away strands of your hair

(if there are any that can get in the way)

His other hand is busy with bringing to his lips either a glass of whiskey or a cigarette

Speaking of it, your boyfriend totally loves when you cockwarm him while he's sitting on the armchair and drinking/smoking

(and he breathes out the cigarette smoke like this 100%)

Anyway, let's get back to sex

Your boyfriend prefers a classic approach to it

Meaning you mostly have sex in missionary and doggy style

He makes love to you gently and in a middle pace

(but if you ask for more, he will comply)

Zombieman tenderly kisses all over your face and neck

His hands usually travel along your curves

Or his one hand grabs your thigh and the other one holds yours

S-class hero is not vocal during sex

Maximum what you can hear are his grunts and whispered praises of how good you feel

Your boyfriend also likes to put some music on the background

(some good old jazz🤌)

As for fetishes, I believe he doesn't really have particular ones

Well, except for your underwear and stripping

Zombieman loves looking at your almost bare body with only erotic lingerie covering your intimate parts

And if you tease him by putting on a little show of undressing in front of him…

Let's just say his is one of the fastest ways for him to lose his patience and control

By the way, he definitely sometimes pulls off your panties with his teeth

He seems like a type of guy who smokes while ravishing you from behind

(and also covers your back with the cigarette smoke)

But only if you're okay with it!!!

Your boyfriend doesn't really have any triggers that turn him on

(well, maybe, except for teasing him in public)

He gets aroused when you're both just spending time together and being all romantic

Zombieman caresses your sides and whispers into your ear that he wants you

You don't usually have many rounds because, believe me, one is more than enough for you

Because he perfectly knows all your weak spots and makes you cum without breaking a sweat

It takes a while for him to finish, so don't be surprised if you orgasm more than once

He mainly ejaculates inside you because his sperms are inactive so you won't get pregnant

As I've already mentioned, your boyfriend is a gentleman

So he takes a good care of you after sex

Asks you if you're alright and need anything, takes you to the shower/bath/cleans you up with wet wipes, brings you food and water, give you a massage, cuddle with you

He does everything you ask him

Zombieman likes to stroke your hair while having your head on his chest and talking to you about anything

When you doze off, he admires your face for some time with a smile and then falls asleep as well

(his dick is purple, by the way)

Ooooh, this man definitely watches hentai and maybe even plays videogames of this genre

And of course masturbates to it

(quite often, I must add)

When you become his girlfriend, this doesn't change

If he doesn't start touching himself more often, that is

King thinks of you and even a opens a pic of you on his phone while stroking his dick

And ends up feeling shame for what he has done

Does he stop? No, he does not

Moreover, he starts stealing your dirty panties

He sniffs your scent, grips your undies with his teeth and even wraps them around his cock while pleasuring himself

One day you catch him red-handed by accident

You just finished dealing with your stuff and wanted to surprise your boyfriend

Only to find him jerking off with your underwear in his hands

King's face immediately goes pale as he awaits to face your wrath

But instead of getting shamed, he sees you approaching him with a smirk on your face

And suddenly you wrap your hand around his dock and start stroking it

Oh god, how good your touch feels

Soon enough, your boyfriend cums

All this aroused you, so you want more

And judging by the longing in King's eyes, he feels the same

So both of you take it to the bed where you masturbate him again

King is sub, so mostly you initiate sex and take the lead

He is a whimpering baby when you suck him off

(and cums fast as well)

Your boyfriend also loves it when you're sitting on his face

The feel of your thighs crushing him and your sweet taste is a pure heaven for him

And yes, he doesn't really like fingering you

But King for sure likes it when you cockwarm him when you're both playing videogames

As I've already pointed out that he is sub, you usually ride him with your hands on his chest or on his shoulders

Meanwhile, his nails are tightly dug into your waist

(and he sometimes bucks his hips, moving along with you)

This man is rather vocal during sex

He moans, whimpers, sulks, gasps and begs you for more

You like to call him good/bad boy (depending on the context)

Oh, how much you love torturing him by overstimulating him or denying his orgasm as a foreplay

And King doesn't mind this, not at all

He is putty in your hands

Your boyfriend takes the lead in bed only when you ask him to

Or when he is in the mood for taking the control (in other words, when he's too horny and wants to skip foreplay)

He's not too rough nor too gentle with you

And does a great job at satisfying you

Your boyfriend is not cruel like you, so you could say that you just have good sex with him without any games

And usually it's one nice round

King is not up for public sex

So he waits to get home when you rile him up

Another way to arouse him, besides showing your underwear or purposely leaving a pair of dirty panties in a conspicuous place, is to wear school uniform (mini skirt + half-hose)

Call him onii-chan, and he's done for

(this is commonly the reason why he takes the lead in the bed)

Your boyfriend cums either inside you or where you tell him to

He's kinda lazy after sex and settles with cleaning you up with just wet wipes and then cuddling with you

But if you need anything else, he'll give it to you

You're his queen after all

Both of you also like to watch memes or anime while snuggling each other until you fall asleep together

(when you send him nudes, don't expect him to answer you immediately)

(wait for around five minutes until he finishes "dealing with stuff")

(you perfectly know that King needs to jerk off as he gets nuts once he sees the pic of you)

(after pleasuring himself, he tells you how great you look)

(orrr if he's feeling bold enough, he sends you a photo of raging boner or a video where he touches himself)

(dirty-dirty🤭)

232 notes · View notes

daiourage · 23 hours ago

Note

YESSS KRIS PLAYING THE PIANO LJASKDJFLAJDKLFJA

(they were so emotive this time holy... they're such a mystery and I genuinely feel terrible controlling them, but also I know they need us... we're in a very toxic relationship with them i know and I want them to be free from us, but i worry about the implications...)

Oh god giving me power to talk about the songs??? I love you hold on are you ready--//shot

(Also this is my thank you for you commenting on my Kralsei post that one time bless your soul (and maybe your SOUL))

So, I work as an instructor for my high school (i'm in college)'s light music club, and I was talking about music composition for a lesson today (I teach twice annually, and the rest are just me supporting my students/underclassmen), and I brought up Undertale/Deltarune music for the topic of motifs/leitmotifs.

What I'm about to say is very obvious stuff, but from someone who's majoring in smth related to music (and someone that just loves music in general bc i've been doing a TON of music stuff my whole life oh god i hope i don't sound pretentious i just want you to know where i'm coming from ladjfalkjdf), it was very fun to analyze, even if it didn't go very far.

(in order of when i thought about them while writing this, and not in chronological order i'm sorry it's messy)

First off, "TV WORLD"'s main motif is the under-melody (the low piano at the very beginning) of "Death by Glamour", or at least corrupting the melody a little bit, and I immediately started shaking the second I heard it??? One of my favorite field BGMs so far!!! Also the clapping soundfont? The xylophone??? MTT Hotel frfr 🥂

Tenna's connection to Mettaton is;;;; very obvious, needless to say, but I love how blatant it is??? Even down to his boss theme, which has a minor → major part in his theme just like in "Death by Glamour"!! Also the fact that neither of them are bad people, just... mislead? I found both annoying at first, but grew to like them!!

(unrelated but Tenna's fangs when he's trying to be intimidating????? Object-head lovers where you at??? Like I might become one I will be SO fr LOOK AT HIM.)

And the very slight Spamton motifs in Tenna's themes???? Yum. Absolutely TASTY I

(I saw that mutual but seemingly-unrequited admiration 👀enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers fic NOW. I will make fanart for it i prommy but someone please make it I'm BEGGING)

OH speaking of "It's TV Time!", I hear a bit of the tv shopping theme from Pokémon Channel in there!!! at around the 0:19 sec mark. Tasty.

(Edit: WAIT THE BEGINNING OF IT'S TV TIME SOUNDS LIKE THEME OF REALLY COOL BIRD AHAHAHAHA)

And with "MIKE, the BOARD please!", it sounds like Miitopia BGM when you're customizing your miis' makeup and hair. love it.

...

Another one was Gerson's themes? Hooooly shit.

Let's get it out of the way that the Undyne motifs were delicious.

Next, "Gyaa Ha ha!"???? The title???? Blatant connections aside, that's amazing. They both had such recognizable laughs, and if this Gerson in Undertale was even as close to how he used to be in Deltarune, I'd say Undyne had a wonderful teacher.

"Gyaa Ha ha!" is so medieval sounding, and it feels like a merchant sauntering from town-to-town selling suspicious wares that could possibly curse your bloodline 3 generations down, but boy oh boy does he have some juicy gossip, so you hear him out anyway. Wonderful stuff!!!

(and "Fireplace" sounds like you're listening to that suspicious merchant speak. and that gossip sure is JUICY.)

The beat is pretty unique and distinct from the other songs in the 4th chapter, and because of that, it pierces your ears. It's jarring, but in a fantastic way. Like, you just HAVE to listen to it because it stands out so much.

...And his tea party scene was when I figured out that he was the special boss for this chapter. His apparition-like qualities shining through like when he'd disappear on us sometimes, coupled with the way he speaks like he knows he's not real in the Light World anymore...

Which brings me to talk about "Hammer of Justice" which, fucking ROCKS.

(ALSO THE FIGHT WITH THE TITAN AND HE COMES IN BOY LET ME TELL YOU I C R I E D WHEN THAT SONG CAME ON ALDKJFLADF

given, I hadn't beaten Gerson my first run so imagine my surprise and the SHIVERS I got hearing "Hammer of Justice" for the first time. We're not fighting him, he's fighting ALONGSIDE us. oh my god i'm going to throw up)

The title, the intro... don't get me STARTED on the "Battle Against a True Hero" similarities. The bassline, the drum rhythm, the break in the middle that absolutely pulls at your gut because you know--you KNOW--where that came from... and it's not "Spear of Justice". He's our hero in a way!

The high tones in the piano and violin make this energetic song sound sad, but like he's accepted it. High tones--to me--make it sound like the topical person is doing their best and reaching the farthest they can go; it sounds like he's giving it his all for you because he knows he's going to finally die after this... and he's completely content with it.

The phrase before the break also have "ASGORE"'s signature jingle bells/tambourines, alluding to his prior obvious connection to him in Undertale...

The last phrase being an energetic banjo with the Freedom motif (along with the pan flute soundfont too!!) shows that he knows he'll get that freedom in true death, and that it's not really on his mind to become free right then and there. His time will come, but that's only when his job is done.

This made me wonder about the other bosses with the Freedom motif and its placement in their boss themes. Is Jevil's in the beginning (and throughout the entire song really because HE IS the Freedom motif) because he insists that he's been free since the beginning of us meeting him, and that we're the ones trapped? Is Spamton's in the middle because he loved his newfound fame in the beginning, only to start wishing for freedom later after he found out that he was being used?

...

Third!!! I don't like "Black Knife" that much PURELY because that shit terrifies me and I have "It's TV Time!" on blast when I attempt to beat the Knight because it makes me antsy--which, I know is the point but I am a weeny baby!!! I've never felt anything as terrifying as the Pokémon Gold&Silver Unown cave music, but this is close to that. Holy shit I do NOT want to hear it in a room where I'm by myself. The chase theme is already scary enough as it is, no matter if the melody is pretty and using a pleasant soundfont or not--the drums are terrifying already. Now you're making it scarier????

Musically, the it's less of the drum rhythm and more of the soundfont used. During the chase scenes it sounds like cogs turning on an old machine in the middle of an abandoned, echoey factory. The drums used in the Knight fight are not extremely similar, but the frantic hi-hats and the equally machine-like snare (that echoey "pah!" noise) work splendidly. The guitar also going HAM adds to the creepy factor because of its repeating buzzing noise and "Meat Factory"-esque melody that is mostly there to add texture.

The song's unsettling. It's alarming. It's even ugly at times with how loud and full it sounds. It's like when you can hear everything in the room because you're nervous and dehydrated and it's all becoming too much and you can feel a headache coming on and it's all aaaaaaaaaaaa

...It's done SO WELL. It's terrifying!!!!!!

I know it's the point!!! I hate it!!! (not compositionally ofc. the song fucks majorly. i'm just. weak. deltarune's becoming a horror game and i LOVE IT.)

Despite that, I love the bell-twinkle-like synthesizer soundfont towards the end of the song, which further supports the theory that the Knight is a Holiday (besides the obvious "deer horns and baseball bat" details (IN THE FIGHT ONLY) people use as evidence)

...

Other songs I loved were the different battle themes per area!!! The OG "Rude Buster" will always be my favorite, but they are!!! So good!!!

In the best way possible, "From Now On" is unsettling to me. The reoccurring motif that is also used in the Titan sections moves so unnaturally up and down the scale so quickly... It's supposed to sound uplifting and mysterious I think (because of the string-like and round soundfont), but the robotic-ness of the melody makes it feel kind of disturbing in a way. The motif is so unique and jarring, it definitely feels like we're fighting something ethereal and unfamiliar.

I might be overthinking (most of this entire response really lol) but it feels like I'm being told to watch out purely because of how catching the melody is. The parts after that are extremely gorgeous and feels very uplifting, making me have hope despite how unfamiliar everything is.

The same could be said for the other sections that use this motif. It's eerie sounding and SO well done!!!

...

Anyway, that's enough from me. I haven't said all I wanted, but the rest are just me gushing about the references and how it's cool to hear familiar melodies.

Thank you for this opportunity 🫶🫶 I hope you enjoyed this!!! I always love reading your unhinged (compliment) posts!!!!

I knew you’d be going buck wild for these few days so I’m extremely glad to see your posts they make me happy 🫡

So… the new chapters amirite????

(I, too am an Old Man™️ fan. He makes me very ill (affectionate))

Music analysis is in my blood and also partially my job so I’m having a FIELD M O N T H and it’s wonderful. I’m gonna be eating so well on these songs for a while.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts! Glad to see someone else is blasting externally via posts while I do it via my friends 🥂

Haha, thank you, I'm glad that you're getting something out of all my frenzied essay writing and sleep-deprived speculations! It's been a wild ride for sure!

And oh my god, when I say these chapters have really flipped the script in a BIG way! Like, it wasn't what I thought it'd be at ALL, but honestly I'm so happy with what we did get! Tenna was an absolute delight All the character development for the Fun Gang, Susie coming into her own, Ralsei being the saddest little guy you ever did see, and Kris... God, Kris... I just wanna give them all a giant hug and tell them it's going to be okay, you know?

Everything about Gerson is PEAK, and if not for Ralsei's existence he would easily be my favourite Deltarune character. His kind of trickster, don't-give-a-damn air is brilliant, and the nuggets of wisdom he drops are pure gold... he's a much-needed ray of sunshine in the unremitting bleakness that is Chapter 4. If I can be half as cool as Gerson when I'm that old I'll be a happy crow :D

Oh, yeah, the music slapped as always! All the little leitmotifs hidden everywhere, and Kris playing the piano? Can we talk about that? I can well imagine you're gonna have a LOT to sink your teeth into in the coming days and weeks! I'd love to hear your thoughts on any tracks in particular that interest you, if you'd share them with us?

But yeah, I've had so much on my mind and if I didn't get it out I'd have exploded! Appreciate everyone's interest and engagement with my observations, it's been a rush! And thank you again for your kind words, they mean a lot :)

#reblog~#dai talks #deltarune #deltarune spoilers #deltarune secret boss #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune chapter 4 #music analysis #again thank you for allowing me to speak on your post it's an honor frfr!!!! 💕🥂🫶

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drtyelvisfantasy · 2 months ago

Text

OH, BABY, BABY

CHAPTER ONE

note: this chapter is like really sad 😔 but thank you everyone for the support, I really appreciate it <3 Don't forget to like and reblog💕

warnings: domestic abuse, emotional abuse, toxic relationship dynamics, swearing, feeling neglected, distressing themes

*this is a part of my lineman!rafe x stripper!reader au

13 years ago

Margaret is already 10 months old. It's crazy how fast time flies. As I get older, it feels like it moves even faster—so fast, I can hardly keep up. Her development is happening so quickly. She can stand on her own now, though she’s not quite walking yet. But she’s such a chatterbox, babbling away nonstop. It’s like she’s having full conversations with herself, making the cutest sounds and coos. I just wish I could freeze this moment and stay here forever.

The holiday season is finally here, and Christmas is just around the corner. Rafe couldn’t make it for Thanksgiving, for obvious reasons, but he promised he’d be here for Christmas. His promise brings up a lot of mixed feelings. On one hand, I really want to believe him, but on the other, his constant absences and the way he’s been distant with me and the baby make it hard to fully trust that he’ll actually show up.

I pick up the phone and dial Rafe’s number, it rings a few times before he finally answers. His voice is casual and nonchalant, just like always.

"What’s up?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to check in." I say.

“Oh, sure, you just wanted to check in. You sure it’s not because you missed me?” Rafe teases, his tone light and playful.

“Well that too, but Margaret misses you more.” I respond to Rafe.

“It seems like she always misses me,” Rafe says, his voice laced with that familiar playful tone.

The conversation with Rafe flows somewhat easily, the familiar back-and-forth making it feel almost normal again. But as the words come out, I can’t help but press him on something that’s been weighing on me—the whole Christmas situation. I ask him again if he’s really going to make it down, knowing full well he hates when I bring it up. He never keeps his promises, and yet I feel like I have to ask, just to get some kind of reassurance. Of course, he gets defensive, his tone shifting quickly. I can feel his frustration building, and he gets rude, as usual, like he always does when he doesn’t want to face the truth.

“Well, did you get me and Margaret something for Christmas?”

I hear him sigh on the other end of the line before he answers, clearly not thrilled with the question. "I don't know, I haven't really thought about it," he says, his voice a little defensive. "Why? You expect me to get you both something?"

I try to keep my tone light, but there's an edge to it. "I just thought you might want to, I don’t know, make it right this time." I can feel the weight of his silence on the other end as I add, "It’s not just about the gifts, Rafe. It’s about showing up, being here for us."

There's a long pause before he finally speaks again, this time quieter, almost like he's actually considering it. "I'll figure something out," he mutters, the words lacking the usual arrogance but still holding a hint of uncertainty. "Just... don’t expect too much, alright?"

“Okay, well I have to go now. Margaret is getting fussy so that means it’s bedtime.”

Rafe lets out a sigh before responding, his tone a mix of frustration and resignation. "Alright, I get it. Baby needs her beauty sleep. I’ll let you go," he says, the words coming out almost dismissively. But then, his voice softens just a little, a hint of sincerity slipping through. "But I promise, I’ll be there for Christmas."

I don’t know why, but hearing him say that makes my chest tighten. I want to believe him, really, I do. But after everything, it’s hard to just let myself hope.

—

Rafe managed to convince his wife, Sofia, to have their Christmas dinner the day before Christmas Eve so he could spend Christmas Day with me and Margaret. It felt like a small victory, but at the same time, it left me feeling conflicted. I appreciated the effort, sure, but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that his priorities were always split, and I couldn’t help but wonder how long this would actually last. Still, the fact that he was making the effort, even if it was just for one day, gave me a sliver of hope.

As Rafe and I wake up on Christmas Day, I can't help but notice the mood he's in. He’s more grouchy and irritable than usual, but honestly, that’s nothing new at this point. He grumbles under his breath as he gets out of bed, clearly not in the best mood. He walks off toward the bathroom attached to my bedroom, the sound of his footsteps heavy as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Rafe?" I call out, my voice sleepy and confused, still half-dazed from sleep. The room is dim, and I can barely make out his figure in the soft light. I rub my eyes, trying to wake up.

I can hear him in the bathroom, mumbling under his breath, clearly in a bad mood. It’s hard to make out the words, but the frustration in his tone is obvious. After a moment, he calls out to me, his voice sharp and irritable. "What?"

I flinch a little, surprised by the tone, and a knot forms in my stomach. I’m not sure what’s going on with him, but it feels like the tension is only growing.

"You’re up already?" I say with a smile, trying to ease the tension in the room. I’m not sure if it’ll work, but I give it a shot, hoping to lighten the mood just a little. I don't want to spend the whole day feeling this heavy air between us, especially not on Christmas.

Rafe leans against the frame of the bathroom door with his arms crossed. His eyes are narrow, and his expression remains grumpy. He scoffs at my cheerful demeanour and rolls his eyes. “Yeah I’m up. Did you expect me to sleep in until noon or something?”

"No, I was just... never mind," I respond back, my voice a little quieter, trying to brush it off. I can tell he’s not in the mood for a conversation, and I don’t want to push him further. Rafe continues to ignore my attempt to talk, too focused on brushing his teeth. His movements are sharp and aggressive, almost like he’s taking out all his frustration on the toothbrush. He doesn’t even look at me, keeping his gaze fixed in the mirror, his posture stiff and tense.

“I’m gonna go get Margaret and get her ready.” I say.

Rafe responds through clenched teeth, still visibly annoyed. “Yeah, you do that.” He finishes brushing his teeth quickly, almost slamming the toothbrush down, and then walks out of the bathroom without another word. He heads straight for the living room, his back to me as he goes, leaving a thick silence in his wake. It’s like he’s shutting me out completely.

I walk over to Margaret’s nursery to get her ready for the day. She groggily opens her eyes as I wake her up, letting out a soft whimper as she’s still a little fussy. She rubs her eyes with her tiny fists and looks up at me, her face scrunched into a pouty expression.

"Hey, baby, it’s okay," I say, my voice gentle as I scoop her up into my arms. Her warmth against me brings a small sense of comfort, and I try to steady my own nerves as I soothe her, hoping the day won’t feel as heavy as it already seems. She coos softly, her small hands reaching out to grab onto my robe, her tiny fingers curling around the fabric like she’s holding onto me for reassurance. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes my heart swell, reminding me why I have to keep going, no matter how complicated things feel with Rafe.

—

I walk into the living room and gently put Margaret down in her playpen, turning on some cartoons to keep her entertained for a little while. I take a deep breath and make my way into the kitchen to start making breakfast, hoping the familiar routine will help ease the tension in the air. As I walk past the living room, I notice Rafe sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, his body slouched and distant. He doesn’t acknowledge me as I pass, still lost in whatever’s on his screen, and it stings more than I want to admit.

“What do you want for breakfast?” I call out to Rafe, trying to break the silence a little.

Rafe glances up from his phone, his face still set in that grouchy expression. He responds with a shrug, irritation creeping into his voice. “I don’t care, just make whatever.” I can hear the sharpness in his tone, and it hits me harder than it should. I try not to let it show, though, focusing on getting breakfast started.

"Okay," I respond back to Rafe, keeping my tone neutral. I don’t argue, just focus on getting breakfast ready. I listen to his request and start making something quick—waffles in the toaster, scrambled eggs, and bacon sizzling in the pan. I move quickly, trying to get everything done fast so I don’t keep Rafe waiting any longer. The kitchen fills with the smells of breakfast, but somehow, it still feels like the room is lacking warmth.

“Rafe, breakfast is ready, and can you put Margaret in her high chair for me?” I call out, trying to keep things moving.

Rafe nods wordlessly, not saying anything, and gets up from the couch. He walks over to the playpen in the living room, scooping up Margaret into his arms with a practiced ease. He walks over to the kitchen, his steps slow and deliberate. Carefully, he places her in her high chair, his face still set in that irritated expression. Margaret babbles and coos, completely unaware of the tension in the room, her tiny hands reaching for the tray with excitement. It’s almost like nothing else matters to her, and in that moment, it’s hard not to envy her innocence.

"I’ll go get your food," I say to Rafe, keeping my voice calm and steady, even though the tension still lingers in the air. I turn back toward the counter, fixing his plate quickly—waffles, scrambled eggs, and a couple strips of bacon. Simple, but enough. I place everything neatly, trying not to overthink it, and bring it over to the table, setting it down in front of him without another word.

He stays unenthusiastic about the meal, barely reacting as he starts to eat quietly. The tension still lingers around him, heavy and unspoken. But despite his grumpy demeanor, I catch him glancing over at Margaret every now and then. She’s happily munching on little pieces of waffle, making a mess and babbling to herself between bites. And for a split second, something shifts in Rafe’s expression—a hint of a soft smile forms on his lips as he watches his baby girl. He tries to hide it, looking away quickly, but it’s there. Subtle, but real.

“What’s wrong, Rafe? You seem upset this morning,” I ask, my voice soft with concern as I watch him pick at his food.

He pauses for a moment, his fork mid-air, then sets it down with a quiet clink.

"Nothing’s wrong," he mutters, still not meeting my eyes. "I’m fine."

His voice isn’t sharp—just tired, worn down in a way that makes my chest tighten. There’s a heaviness behind his words, something unspoken that lingers in the space between us. He might say he’s fine, but everything about him says otherwise.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” I say gently. “That’s all.”

He gives a small nod, still not fully looking at me, but the tension in his shoulders seems to ease—just a little. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Thanks.”

It’s not much, but it’s something. And in this moment, I’ll take it.

There’s not much of a conversation after that. I try to keep things light, mentioning opening gifts, asking about plans for the next day, even what he might want for dinner—but it’s like talking to a wall. His responses are short, one-worded, or sometimes just silence.

I push through it at first, hoping he’ll warm up, but the more I talk, the more it feels like I’m talking to myself. The awkwardness settles in, and I can feel that familiar sting in my chest. I sit there, nodding along to my own words, trying to hold on to some sense of normalcy, but deep down, I just feel stupid—like I’m trying too hard for someone who doesn’t even want to meet me halfway.

—

After cleaning up breakfast and finishing a few tasks around the house, we all eventually gather in the living room to open the presents under the tree. The lights twinkle softly, and the sound of wrapping paper crinkling fills the room, but the atmosphere still feels a little off.

Rafe is still clearly in a mood—quiet, withdrawn—but I can tell he’s trying, at least a little, for Margaret’s sake. He forces a small smile here and there, helps her tear the wrapping paper, and lets out a chuckle when she gets excited over something as simple as a stuffed animal.

It’s not perfect. The tension is still there, hanging just beneath the surface. But for a few moments, as Margaret giggles and babbles happily in the middle of it all, it almost feels okay. Almost.

“Aww, Rafe, look—she likes it,” I say with a soft smile, watching Margaret wrap her tiny arms around the new Winnie the Pooh stuffy he got her. She holds it tight against her chest, rocking slightly with excitement, her face lit up with pure joy.

Rafe glances over, his expression softening just a little as he watches her. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and for a moment, the heaviness in the room seems to lift.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess I did good with that one.”

It’s a small moment, but it feels meaningful—something warm breaking through the cold.

“Don’t look all sad,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “I got you something.”

I reach under the tree and pull out the gift I picked for him, holding it out toward him with a little grin. Rafe’s expression shifts, a bit surprised, as I mention the gift. He raises an eyebrow, his grumpy attitude slowly fading, just slightly.

“You got me something?” Rafe responds, his tone softer now, almost curious.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” I say with a slight shrug, trying to keep things light.

Rafe looks at me for a moment, then starts carefully peeling back the decorated wrapping paper on the small box. He pauses when he sees the watch inside, his fingers brushing over it for a second before he picks it up, turning it over in his hand.

“Wow,” he murmurs, glancing up at me, his voice a little less guarded. “This is... actually really nice.”

“Try it on, I wanna see how it looks on you,” I say, a playful grin tugging at my lips.

Rafe nods, his expression softening as he slips the watch onto his wrist, adjusting the strap to fit securely. He holds out his arm, showcasing the sleek design of the watch with a subtle flicker of pride in his eyes.

“How’s it look? Not too bad?” he asks, glancing at me, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Looks good, just like you,” I say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. He meets my eyes, and I catch the smallest, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Rafe’s expression changes for a moment as he remembers something. He reaches under the tree and pulls out a small jewelry box, his movements a bit more deliberate this time. He hands it to me with a soft look in his eyes.

"Here, this is for you," he says, his voice quieter than before. "I hope you like it."

I take the box from him, a small surprise flickering inside me. I can’t help but smile as I slowly open it, curious about what’s inside. The moment feels different, more genuine than it has all day.

As I open the box, my eyes immediately land on the beautiful diamond ring sparkling inside. My breath catches in my throat as I gaze at it, the light catching the facets of the stone, making it shimmer. I glance up at Rafe, and I can see the way he’s watching me, his eyes a little more intense, his heart probably beating a little faster as he waits for my reaction.

“Oh, Rafe…” I whisper, my voice filled with surprise and emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

As I express my enthusiasm about the ring, rafe quickly interjects with a slightly serious tone.

“Hold on, don’t get too excited. It’s not an engagement ring or anything,” Rafe says, his tone a bit more defensive than I expected. “I just got it for you because I knew you’d like it. Understood?”

I’m quickly taken aback by his comment, the words hitting me harder than I thought they would. It feels like a cold splash of water, and suddenly, the happy moment turns bitter. The excitement I felt fades almost immediately, replaced by a knot in my stomach. It’s like the air in the room shifted, and now all I can focus on is the sharpness in his tone.

I stare at the ring in my hand, trying to process what just happened, but I can’t shake the sting of his words.

Rafe notices the subtle shift in my mood and frowns slightly, his gaze softening just a little as he realizes what he’s said has affected me more than he intended. He leans back, his posture defensive, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Why are you looking so sad? I thought you liked the ring.”

“I do like it,” I reply quickly, trying to reassure him, but my voice feels heavy. “I just thought things would be different by now, you know? I just thought you’d be here permanently.”

The words slip out before I can stop them, and once I say them, I feel a lump in my throat. It’s been building up for so long, this longing, this hope that things would finally settle into something more certain, more permanent. And right now, it feels like that dream is slipping further away, leaving me wondering if it’ll ever happen.

Rafe’s expression hardens, and I can see the annoyance creeping into his features as he listens to my concerns. His eyes flicker with frustration as he notices the hurt and disappointment in mine. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated, and his voice comes out with an edge.

“This again? I thought we discussed this,” he says, his tone sharp. “I told you from the beginning that I have a life back in North Carolina. I have a wife and kids. I can’t just stay here permanently.” The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Rafe’s frustration grows, his jaw tightening as the conversation continues to spiral. He runs a hand through his hair again, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check. Then, without another word, he abruptly gets up from the couch and storms out of the living room, his footsteps heavy as he heads towards my bedroom. The door slams shut with a force that makes the walls tremble, leaving the room silent in the wake of his anger.

I sit there for a moment, the sound of the door echoing in my ears. The tension in the air feels suffocating, and I’m left staring at the spot where he had been, my chest tight with a mix of hurt and confusion.

—

I decided it would be best if we took some family pictures before dinner, knowing Rafe wouldn’t be up for it after eating.

As the camera timer on my phone starts counting down, Rafe stands next to me, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. He attempts to put on a smile for the photo, but it’s clear as day that he’s not thrilled about being in front of the camera. His smile is tight, almost forced, and not at all genuine.

The click of the camera echoes in the room, and as I lower the phone, Rafe’s smile immediately drops. He doesn’t say anything, but his posture seems to stiffen, and the tension that’s been hanging between us all day feels even heavier. I turn to head to the kitchen, my mind still swirling with everything that’s happened, and I can feel his gaze linger on me for a moment.

In the kitchen, I try to focus on preparing dinner, but the quiet in the air is suffocating. The mood hasn’t shifted, and Rafe’s sour mood still hangs over everything, making the space feel colder than it should. I can’t help but wonder if it’s something I said, something I did, or if it’s just the weight of everything else that’s still pulling him down.

The dinner is the same as breakfast. Not a lot of talking, just eating.

“So, do you like the food?” I ask Rafe, trying to keep my tone light despite the tension.

Rafe lifts his gaze to me as I ask, his eyes scanning my face for a moment before he answers. He takes a beat before responding, his expression still somewhat guarded, like he’s holding something back.

“It’s fine,” he says curtly, returning to his meal as if the conversation is over.

“It’s fine? That’s all you have to say?” I respond, my voice rising a little in frustration.

Rafe notices the irritation in my voice and senses the shift in the atmosphere. He sighs heavily, setting down his fork with a slight clink. He looks up at me, his eyes flickering with a hint of annoyance, the tension still thick between us.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, his voice sharp. “You cooked dinner, it tastes alright, end of story.”

His tone is biting, and it stings more than I expect. It feels like he’s shutting down everything I’ve tried to put into this, and I can’t help but feel the frustration bubbling up inside me. The effort I’ve made, the hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d appreciate something, seems to have fallen flat.

He picks up his fork again and resumes eating, his body language clearly signaling the end of the conversation.

“Um, was thinking we could watch a movie before bed. Maybe we could watch Elf?” I say, hoping it might bring some sort of warmth or connection.

Rafe doesn't even look up from his plate as he quickly declines, his response sharp and dismissive.

“I’m not really in the mood for a movie,” he says curtly, his tone flat. “I’ll probably just head to bed after dinner.”

I nod silently, feeling the weight of his words settle in. It’s like everything I suggest, every attempt to bridge the distance between us, is being pushed away. The hope I’d been holding onto seems to be slipping through my fingers, leaving me with a quiet, painful emptiness.

—

The rest of dinner passes in an awkward silence, the air between us thick with unspoken words. Rafe eventually decides to head to bed, seeking some rest, while I’m left to clean up the kitchen and get Margaret ready for bed. The clinking of dishes and the quiet hum of the house only seem to highlight the emptiness that’s grown between us.

After finishing up in the kitchen, I head to Margaret’s room, putting her to bed with a quiet kiss on her forehead. I linger for a moment, watching her peacefully drift off, her small form curled up under the blanket.

Once I’m done, I stand there for a second, trying to shake off the weight of the day. It’s been mentally draining, emotionally exhausting, and I can’t bear another second of the tension that still lingers in the house. I decide it’s best to just head to bed too, hoping that sleep will offer me some reprieve, some escape from the heaviness of it all.

As I enter the bedroom, I’m caught off guard by the sight of Rafe packing up his belongings. He’s moving quickly, almost frantically, gathering his things and stuffing them into his suitcase. He doesn’t even seem to notice my presence in the room at first, his focus entirely on his task.

“Rafe, what are you doing?” I ask, my voice filled with confusion, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in his actions.

He pauses for just a moment, glancing up at me with a look of frustration and annoyance that I can’t quite place. His face tightens, and he snaps, his words sharp and quick.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing.” He replies in a fast tone, not even bothering to stop his movements as he continues shoving clothes into his bag.

The suddenness of his actions hits me like a cold wave, and for a moment, I just stand there, trying to process what’s happening.

“You said you’d be leaving tomorrow evening, not today,” I say, my voice wavering slightly as I try to keep my composure.

Rafe lets out a sharp huff, the sound laced with irritation. He glances up at me, his brows furrowed, eyes narrowing like I’m somehow the problem. “I changed my mind,” he snaps. “I decided to leave tonight. I don’t see why it’s a big deal.”

My chest tightens as I step closer, refusing to let the conversation end there. “You said you’d stay. You can’t just leave like this,” I argue, my voice rising with a mix of frustration and hurt. “What about your daughter, Rafe?”

At the mention of Margaret, Rafe hesitates. It’s just a second, but I see the flicker of something—guilt, maybe—cross his face. His hands slow for the briefest moment as he grips the edge of a shirt, his knuckles turning white. Then, just like that, he brushes it off.

“What about her?” he says, his tone cold and blunt. “She’s just a baby. She won’t even remember I’m gone.”

The words hit me like a slap, knocking the wind right out of me. I stare at him, stunned, my heart aching not just for me—but for Margaret.

Rafe finally finishes packing and starts walking out of the bedroom, I can see that he’s made up his minds to leave. He walks past me without sparing me a glance, his expression stoic and closed off.

“I’m leaving firmly, as if he’s daring me to try and stop him.

“Rafe stop it, you’re not going anywhere. Stop!” I yell trying to change Rafe’s mind.

He stops monetarily at the door, his had on the doorknob. He turns to look back at me, his expression a mix of anger and determination. His jaw clenches, and he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Why are you making this so fucking difficult? I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving, whether you like it or not.”

I quickly grab onto Rafe’s wrist, trying to stop him, trying to keep him from walking out. My grip is firm, desperate, but it does nothing—he barely even flinches. Panic rises in my chest, and in a split second, I move in front of him, using my body to block the door. I press my hands against his chest, trying to push him back, hitting him in frustration, in fear, in disbelief.

“Rafe, please, don’t do this—”

Before I can finish, his hand suddenly connects with my face—sharp, fast, and unforgiving.

The sound rings out before the pain even registers.

I stumble backward, the sting blooming across my cheek like fire. My legs give out beneath me, and I hit the floor hard. For a moment, the world blurs. The shock, the betrayal, the ache—it all crashes into me at once. Tears spill down my cheeks uncontrollably, sobs ripping from my chest as I cradle the side of my face.

The air in the room turns heavy. Still.

Margaret starts crying in the background, her soft sobs echoing from her nursery, like she can feel the chaos too.

Rafe stands over me, his expression cold but controlled. He looks down at me with a hard gaze and warns me in a firm voice.

“Don’t you put your hands on me again. Ever. Got it?”

Rafe finally storms out, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that echoes through the apartment and me. I sit there, still on the floor, heart pounding, tears falling. He’s gone, but the ache he left behind stays. Even through the pain, I still loved him. I didn’t want to leave—I just wanted him to stay, to be better, to choose us. But maybe wanting that was never going to be enough.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe cameron fluff #rafe angst #lineman!rafe x stripper!reader #oh baby baby🍼

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juletheghoul · 20 days ago

Text

father figure IV

a/n: I know we’re all in our Joel feels, but Clint has me by the throat so 🤷🏻‍♀️ Hope you guys enjoy the drama! 💕xoxo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, Clint's POV, shitty dad (neglect), absent mother (abandonment issues), allusions to illegal activity, domestic violence (Clint's knuckles getting a pretty gnarly infection--medical talk), allusions to the daddy kink, not so secret relationship, **angst** Hurt/comfort, period piece - takes place in 1987, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Clint Flood x F!Reader

Ko-fi link 🥲💕

word count: 4.7k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series Masterlist

---

He’s really fucked it up this time.

His hand aches, sharp and deep–that shithead's tooth had broken off in his knuckle. Serves him right for speaking to her like that. Clint shakes his head, angry all over again only this time it’s coloured with shame. A bone-deep embarrassment that he’d let his anger get the better of him. The fear in her face is burned into his retinas. He sees it every time he blinks, hears her choking sobs as she pushed him out her door.

His apartment is quiet, too quiet. His ears ring with the finality of it.

Louis meows as he moves towards the bathroom, the motion of grabbing his first aid kit from under the sink is practiced, too practiced but it is what it is. It’s not the first time he’s had to patch himself up. He fucking hates that he knows it won’t be the last.

He wishes she was here, he wishes so badly that she was the one tending to him, gently washing his hand with that pretty smile on her face. He sighs again, how could he be so fucking stupid?

He bites his cheek, the sting is nothing new but it still fucking hurts. He curses loudly when he finally gets it out, the broken chunk of tooth falls into the sink, goes down the drain in a swirl of red. He wonders idly what she’s thinking at that very moment, how angry and hurt and disgusted… how terrified she must be of him. The shame burns through him much hotter than the anger.

The shower steams while he strips, he does his best to keep his hand out of the spray, and his mind off of her skin but he fails at both. There’s none of that softness that overflows in him for her left for himself. He scrubs himself raw, replays the incident over and over again and the frustration almost makes him laugh. How quickly it all went to shit, how quickly he ruined his chances with her, and if by some miracle he hadn’t–it's clear to him that this whole thing was a mistake.

He settles into his bed, hand bandaged and aching but the pain falls short compared to the stab of regret at smelling her within his sheets.

He dreams about her, and when he wakes with the taste of her still fresh on his tongue, he doesn’t know if it’s better, or worse.

He picks up the phone at least a dozen times before noon. It’s a compulsion, her phone number itching in the tip of his finger, begging to be dialed but he stops himself. He shouldn’t call. He should just cut his losses, hope he didn’t do any long term damage to her confidence.

He barely tastes the food he made, barely feels the wind whipping around his balcony while he smokes. The ache in his bruised, swollen knuckles makes him wince whenever he flexes but it’s become a grounding point, self-flagellation. His mother would laugh at that—she’d been Catholic while she was alive. He wishes they could have met.

He shakes his head, crushes out the cigarette, crushes out that train of thought and heads back in to stew some more.

Louis knows there’s something wrong, his meows sound almost comforting, his purrs seem extra loud. The cat plops onto his lap, a rare yet welcome occurrence.

“I know buddy, I miss her too.”

The phone rings on the third day out, he rushes out of the shower but doesn’t make it in time. Her voice comes through and it freezes the air in his lungs like a snowstorm.

“Clint? Clint what is happening? I expected you to be here, I expected to see you waiting for me after my shift, or call me or I don’t know, show up and talk to me about this? Aren’t you going to apologize? My dads fine by the way—not that you’ve bothered to ask about that either, and spare me the rationale behind this whole thing, I’m not expecting you to apologize to him but I was expecting my boyfriend to be here, to maybe not leave me stuck with paying for the ER visit. Call me, come see me, anything, and give Louis some love for me. Bye.”

There’s a bruise in his chest, something in his bones at the sound of her voice. There’s an anger there that he cannot blame her for, competing with disappointment. He wanted to go, but it wasn’t a good idea. He knew this, or at least, he kept trying to remind himself. It was doomed from the start, he wasn’t the one for her. She would move on, she would find someone closer to her age, someone appropriate. The thought of some young dumbass all over her makes his skin crawl.

He flexes his knuckles, focuses on the pain, leaves the phone on the hook and goes to get dressed.

The phone rings again a few hours later, this time he lets the machine get it on purpose.

“Clint—This isn’t funny anymore. What is happening? Can you please just call me back? I’m getting really annoyed now—I’m about to leave for my shift, I finish at nine-thirty, can you please pick me up so we can talk about this? Bye.”

He sighs, flexing his hand again. It’s going to scar with the way he keeps breaking the skin open but it helps. It takes the hand of god for him not to rush over to the video store, to catch her before she walks in and beg her to forgive him. Deep down he knows he won’t though. He has to let her go, let her forget him.

His skin prickles with a nervous edge as the evening progresses, makes him pace and smoke and eventually he can’t take it anymore. With an angry grunt he storms out, gets on his bike and rides way too fast. It helps with the adrenaline, but it fucks up his knuckles even more. The skin of his hand is red and he knows he should have someone take a look.

By the time he gets home his whole body hurts, the tightness in his muscles, the pain of the injury,

The machine is beeping and he already knows. The time on his watch says 11:21pm.

“So it all bullshit then. Everything you said to me, about your feelings, about wanting me in your life. Partner, boyfriend…none of it was real…are you in the fucking hospital? Are you okay? Why are you ignoring me? How could you be so sweet, and then pretend I don’t exist? I cannot be invisible to you, Clint, please—please talk to me.”

Her words cut him deeper than her dads tooth, deeper than the knife that had scarred his face. He should eat, but he can’t. He feeds the cat, turns off the lights and gets into bed.

The phone rings again a couple of days later, and the temptation is almost irresistible. He can hear the tears, hear the heartache he’s caused with his actions, with his silence. He hates himself.

Her anger has swelled, fed and watered by her tears, by his abandonment of her. She asks what she did wrong, she asks why he won’t speak to her, if he’d even deign to answer the door if she came to his apartment and he wonders what he’d do if it came to that. Could he stand to hear the buzzing and do nothing? He hopes she won’t test him like that. He hopes she will.

He disconnects the phone, he unplugs his answering machine. He sits with the silence, sits in his own cowardice while his knuckles get worse. He focuses on reorganizing his things, curses to himself when he finds the tapes he hasn’t returned. The girl on the cover–her doppelganger stares at him, the smile that had caught his attention because of their resemblance was now a taunt, accusatory and angry. He cannot return them now, she might be there.

Thursday, he thinks. He’ll go on her day off, stop by the clinic on the way to get his hand checked out, pick up some meds and look for work.

Thursday comes, and the clinic is rammed. There’s a mother rocking a sick child, an older couple sitting together. There are a few teenage girls all huddled together, he can vaguely hear them rehearsing their lines, how to ask for birth control, how to ask to get tested without raising the alarm.

Clint remembers his introduction to puberty. It hadn’t been a slow bloom for him, it hadn’t been gentle, nothing in his life had. It had been violent, splinters in his bones and fitful sleep, beatings from his dad from how much he’d needed to eat. The hunger had gotten him in so much trouble, and had cost his mother more than money.

“Clint Flood–” The nurse calls him, and he rises, leaves the painful memories behind and follows her into the examination room.

“Doctor will be with you shortly.” He nods at her, sits in silence when she closes the door behind her. Diplomas line the walls, certificates too. Alongside those same boring watercolours and inspirational posters that seem to live in every doctor's office. There’s a comfort in getting lost in that landscape, safe, quiet, empty.

It startles Clint a bit when the doctor opens the door with what he knows is his chart clutched in the man's hands. He can only imagine the laundry list of injuries in there.

“What seems to be the problem Mr. Flood?” The doctor sits, smiling benignly.

“My hand–” He pulls the bandage away, hissing at the pain. The gasp the doctor lets out doesn’t inspire confidence.

“May I?” Competent, yet delicate hands reach for him and he nods. The doctor frowns, reaches for the glasses in his shirt pocket to see the injury clearer.

“This looks nasty, I’m imagining it hurts very much.”

“You aren’t kidding.” Clint huffs out a breath, clenching his jaw while the man squeezes his hand a tad.

“Can you tell me what happened? Is this an animal bite?”

“No, it was… an altercation. I pulled a piece of tooth out of it a few days ago.” The doctor's eyebrows raise into his receding hairline.

“A human mouth did this?” He lets it go, moving back to grab some gloves as well as a syringe and a vial from a cabinet.

“Yes. I got into a fight.”

“I am terrified to imagine what the other guy looks like. Well, the human mouth is a nasty cesspit. Not surprised at how infected it is. I do wish you would have come in sooner, could have avoided this.” He fills the syringe with a clear fluid.

“Is it really bad?” Clint knows it is, the shooting pains, the swollen, purple-red skin tells him it is.

“It’s not good. I’m going to give you a shot, and then start you on a course of pretty aggressive antibiotics. Just to clear it all up. Luckily it looks like it didn’t hit a bone or a nerve or it would be really bad.” He gives Clint no warning, and injects a few different points of his hand. He grits his teeth because it fucking sucks.

“Okay, that should help with the swelling and the pain, and then I’m going to prescribe some pills, please don’t skip any doses, and come back if it gets worse. If you see the skin turning black, or the redness spreading then go straight to the hospital.” The used needle goes into the yellow sharps container, his hand gets flushed with some saline, and then a fresh bandage wraps the whole thing up.

“There we go, all taken care of. I’ll give you some more gauze–”

“I have some at home, got a first aid kit.” Clint rises, the doctor nods. With a quick unreadable scribble he’s free to go with his prescription.

The video store is empty of customers, but his stomach drops when their eyes lock. She looks upset, she looks like she hasn’t slept, she looks like she hasn’t stopped crying and instantly his heart cracks in half at how her eyes water.

“I’m sorry–” He tries to back away, but her eyes harden and he’s stuck in his spot.

“You’re sorry?”

He takes a slight step back, cowering under her gaze.

“So you thought to come and return your fucking tapes when you thought I’d be off? Is that it? Are you such a fucking coward Clint?” She isn’t yelling but he almost wishes she was. Her every word is an icicle, and it’s so much worse.

“No, I–I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. It’s better this way.” He clenches his jaw, flexes his hand and winces.

“Better? For who?” She scoffs, fire blazing in her expression–he sees her on that first night, that same anger she’d directed at her father for the heat having been shut off. Even now, with her ire so accurately directed at him, he cannot help but want her. He cannot help his need to comfort and protect her, even if that meant from himself.

Her boss clears his throat, they’re causing a scene for the couple of customers milling about the place.

She catches him off guard when she pulls him by the sleeve. He is helpless, a lamb being led away for slaughter. He sighs to himself when she shoves him into the backroom.

“What the fuck is your problem? What did I do wrong?” She still doesn’t scream.

“Nothing! You did nothing.” He takes a deep breath, lets out a deep sigh.

“I’m the one who ruined this. I forgot myself, I forgot that I’m not the man for you, I’m a mess and angry and violent and you don’t deserve that–”

“Oh please, I know exactly who you are and I’m not afraid of you.” She crosses her arms, annoyed scowl firmly in place.

“I scared you the other night, I could have killed your dad–probably would have if you hadn’t pulled me away.”

“I’m not happy you did that, at least; I shouldn’t be because despite him being a piece of shit, despite him deserving it I don’t want anyone to get hurt. That being said, what I deserve is for you to fucking face me like a man.”

He closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing and repeats all the reasons he’s come up with for why he should end things now. She sighs, he can see the mental cogs turning, that tentative reign she has on her patience.

“What I deserve is for you to let me make the choice of whether I want you in my life or not. What I deserve is an apology and some grovelling. I want the person I care about back. Where’s he?”

She searches his face for a glimpse of who he’s been with her and he’s there, on the surface, it’s in him to beg for her forgiveness but he has to think about the consequences. Her age, his past, his damage.

“You deserve better—“ He tries to soften himself, make her understand but she lets out an angry, guttural sound.

“Stop that! I’m not a fucking child! Just because I call you daddy when you fuck me doesn’t mean you get to make decisions for me. It doesn’t mean you know better.” It burns clean through him, that authority she’s trusted him with, all of the intimacy she’s given him, the trust; his resolve crumbles for a moment.

“Clint, why did you say all those things? Why did you want me only to throw me away? Please don’t do this—please don’t leave me behind.” Her eyes shine now, fat, shiny tears collect in her lashes, she blinks them away and they fall down her pretty face. He’s cracking in two, his heart aches, words fail him.

“Apologize, beg me to come back. I’ll do it, I’ll follow you—I just need to know you’re sorry, that you want me—“ She moves towards him and it’s an agony not to gather her up in his arms. Her delicate fingers touch his face, cup his cheeks, trace the scar. He wants to talk some sense into her. He wants to take her home and fuck her raw. He wants to cry into the soft skin of her neck.

“What if you hate me for it?” He asks her. He’s terrified to know, he’s dying to know.

“I know who you are, I know what you’ve done, let me make the decision.”

He sighs, presses his forehead against her shoulder for a moment, breathes in the ghost of the smell that’s faded from his sheets.

—

The early shift is done a few hours after the confrontation, and for a moment you’re afraid he’s disappeared again but he’s there; parked right in front of the store, eyes already on you. You almost smile, the joy of him being there is almost enough to forgive the glaring absence of him. Almost.

He’s out and opening the door for you before you’ve made it to the car, you do smile then. A hot, sweet coffee is pressed into your hands, a small wordless apology. It’s not enough, you know it, he knows it, but it’s definitely a start.

“Where are we going?”

“To my place. I made dinner.” Tentatively, he takes your hand in his bandaged one. You’d noticed it back at the store, but you were too mad to ask him about it then.

“Is it bad? Your hand?” You touch the thick gauze, devastated to imagine that he might be hurting.

“No.” He frowns, a lie.

“Tell me the truth.” He looks over at you for a moment when you stop at a red light.

“Yes, the doctor patched me up though.” He kisses your hand, and you want to cry. It feels like you’ve been apart for months, it feels like he’s shut you out of so much. The hospital had been so fucking busy on that night, and you’d had to take your father alone, you’d had to listen to his bullshit for hours. He should have been there with you, he should have turned right around and come back, helped and taken you away.

You say nothing, but let him hold your hand anyway. There’s a tension that fills the car, building, swelling, heightening your anger and your hurt and your grief–grief? It is grief isn’t it? Mourning the death of something. Maybe not an actual death, but for a week he’d let you think what you had together–what you have together–had died. Being stuck in that house with your dad, being stuck in that suffocating silence, that colossal loneliness had been almost too much to bear.

The elevator ride up to his apartment is tense, everything is.

Louis chirps happily when you walk in, winding through your legs, pawing at them to be picked up. His purrs are so loud, so soothing.

“You want to eat now? Or in a little bit?” Clint takes your things, hangs them up while you reacquaint yourself with Louis.

“After.” You walk past him, settle onto the couch and cuddle the cat for a few more minutes, until he gets tired of it and jumps out of your lap.

It’s so hard not to crawl onto Clint's lap when he sits beside you. It’s so fucking difficult not to just break down and cry into his neck, beg him never to leave you again but you cannot do that, you cannot bypass this whole thing. He runs his uninjured hand through his hair, fidgets with his bandage before finally looking you square in the eye.

“I’m sorry.” He lets it out like a breath he’s been holding. You let him continue.

“I lost control of myself, I got so fucking mad that he said those things to you, that he thought it was his right to hurt you like that.” His head dips, elbows resting on his knees.

“I know you know what I do, what I am…but I also know you definitely didn’t sign up for that and I’m sorry but I need you to know that I would never hurt you.” You frown, but he shakes his head, continuing on. “Baby, you have to believe me, I would never hurt you. I have never hit a woman in my life, I have never–would never do anything like that.”

You scoff. He doesn’t even know why you’re angry, he doesn’t even realize what he’s done.

“I know that.” You sigh, eyes flitting around his apartment. Annoyingly, the peace is still there, it’s still infused throughout every inch of the place. Clint shakes his head, continues on.

“I saw the look on your face. I saw how scared you were, I saw the tears. I can’t imagine what you thought about me in that moment.” He clenches his eyes, no doubt reliving the moment, no doubt seeing the expression you’d worn.

“Yes, you saw it, but you clearly have no idea what I was thinking, and you clearly didn’t listen to any of my messages. You imagined that I saw you give my asshole dad a beat down he deserved and that I automatically thought you’d turn around and knock my tooth out next.” The tone is much more cruel than you mean it to be.

“I did listen, how much I hurt you–”

“You heard me asking for you to speak to me, to not leave me behind. Clint I’m not angry that you punched my dad, I’m angry that you fucking abandoned me.” The tears are there again but you blink them away.

“All my life I’ve been abandoned. My mom didn’t want me, my dad doesn’t give a shit about me unless I’m making money and–” your voice breaks and you stop, take a deep breath, gather your thoughts under his gaze, “and right after telling me that you want me in your life, that you’re my partner or boyfriend or whatever the fuck, you left me high and dry.” His eyes widen and you know he gets it.

“I like you Clint, I love being with you, I love how you make me feel and how you treat me but I can’t live in fear that you’ll leave me too.” The tears fall for real now, all that silence, all those unanswered phone calls, that glaring absence of him waiting for you after a shift, the uncertainty catches up.

He pulls you to him and you fall apart. That smell you’ve fucking ached for in the crook of his neck makes you cry even harder.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry.” His arms wrap around you so tight you can barely breathe but it feels like warmth after a blizzard, like a blazing fire in a frozen wasteland. “I want you with me, I want you here–move in with me.” He presses kisses to your tear-stained face, the suggestion pulls a laugh out of you. A watery smile, blubbering laughter.

“I’m serious, come and live here with me.” You can see the sincerity in his expression, his eyes water a bit too. You smile, trace the scar and don’t respond. Your thumbs caress his cheeks, one hand moves to comb his hair back.

“It was torture not to pick the phone when you called, it was torture not to go and see you at the store.” He presses his face into your neck, breathes you in deep. “Forgive me.”

You don’t say anything, there’s nothing to say. You already know he means it, you already know there’s no way you’re saying goodbye.

You pull his face up and press your lips to his, soft and sweet.

Dinner is good, but you can’t eat much. All of the stress has put a huge weight in your stomach and despite feeling a bit lighter, it’s difficult to just let it go.

He doesn't eat much either. The both of you just sort of dance around each other, tidying up and putting most of the food away. You wash dishes despite his objections, you suspect his injured hand is the only reason he lets you continue.

The TV plays once the kitchen is spotless and the silence turns into a tight embrace on the sofa. You soak in the shape of one another, relearn his skin, like braille. Silent, comfortable, slow. His kisses are full of apologies, the purest form of begging, and it doesn’t end, until eventually you have to leave. Tomorrow's shift is early, and you have none of your things.

He doesn’t argue, simply grabs his keys and together you walk to his car.

Your dad scoffs when you walk through the door, but it’s tempered with a healthy, valid fear of the man that walks behind you. You almost want to laugh at how pathetic he looks. His face is still swollen and his front tooth is cracked in half. There’s a freedom in what little respect you have for him now, he’s never been the father you deserve, and he’s taken every single opportunity to prove to you that he never will be.

“Got a lot of nerve coming into my house again.” Your dad speaks directly to Clint, who only sighs in his direction.

“Enough, dad. He��s leaving now.” You hang your purse, roll your eyes.

“No, you’re leaving now.” He raises his voice, “I’ll not accept some–” Clint raises his eyebrows, almost daring your dad to continue but he rethinks things, takes a deep breath.

“You’re an adult, go live your life. Not in my house.” He crosses his arms, a petulant, ungrateful child. You want to argue with him, you want to remind him just how much of your money has gone into his house. How you paid the mortgage with your savings for almost six months when he lost his job. How you used the last little bit when he fucked around last year, how you’re the one who usually keeps the fridge stocked and the house clean.

“Baby, let’s go pack your things.” Clint's hand lands softly onto your shoulder, and all at once all of the fight goes out of you. There is no point in arguing. With a tired, defeated sigh you let him lead you up the stairs.

Silently, you pull your big suitcase out from under your bed and begin to empty your drawers. Clint opens your closet, asks softly what you’d like to take with you. The suitcase fills up, your duffel too. A plastic bin is filled with everything you can fit from your bathroom. The books, the movies, everything that isn’t essential will have to stay behind until you can come back.

Clint grabs your bin in one hand, rolls your suitcase behind him and tosses your duffel over his shoulder. He ignores your attempts to help and tells you to grab whatever else you need. An old teddy bear, your favourite pillow and your walkman make their way down in your arms.

You grab your jacket, your purse, and the sweatshirt hanging on the back of the sofa.

Your dad mumbles something about cleaning out the room but Clint is there, stepping close enough that you can see sweat beading on your dads face.

“We’ll be back to empty the rest of her things tomorrow night. God help you if you touch a single fucking thing in that room. You understand me?” His voice is soft, almost bedroom-low. It sends a shiver up your spine. He turns after making his point, and guides you softly, but firmly out the door.

He puts your things in his bedroom, and instantly goes to work clearing space for you in his closet. There’s a numbness in your movements, a finality to the whole thing. The rollercoaster has finally stopped, but your stomach is teetering between relief and a debilitating nausea.

You hang your things in the space he’s made, separate your clothes into different piles, smile when he clears out a few drawers in his dresser.

“We’ll get another one this week, one just for you. We can get some shelves for your books, and whatever else you want to make it feel more like home.” He sits on the bed, pulls the rest of your things out of the suitcase to fold and organize. You smile, but stay quiet. It’s too much for one day, all catching up at once, you’re exhausted. He sees right through it.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” He pulls you into his orbit, presses his face into your belly. Your hands thread through his hair.

“I know.”

---

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