#doesn’t need to be acknowledged. You grow in the silences | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 13 days

Note

Hey, can I request some Toji, please? 👉🏻👈🏻 having sex with him after an argument and silent treatment for several days, but not like wild fucking, but kinda intimate and passionate 😔 like imagine you finally make up after an argument and he missed you soooo much and he want to kiss everywhere, look you in the eyes and praise the hell out of you 🥺

Damn, I need soft Toji bad 😭 wish you a great day 🫶🏻

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: arguing!? make up sex!?!? with soft dom toji!!??? ahhhhhhh—

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: soft dom! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - implied argument + make-up sex - kissing/making out - Daddy kink - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play - anvil/mating press + spooning positions - cockwarming - praise - unprotected sex - multiple orgasms - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, sweet baby, sweetie) - Toji being whipped + missing you, i'm so soft - itty bitty angst in beginning + fluff on SMUT on fluff - mention os spit/drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k

Toji didn’t like having arguments with you. They made you distant from him, pushed him away, and he’ll feel like utter shit until things subside after kissing and making up. And when the tension between you lasts for an entire week? Oh, that makes him experience a new gut-wrenching definition of guilt.

Avoiding him is a torture he doesn’t want from you — oh, he can’t stand it. When you use the shower in the morning after he uses it in the nighttime, when your eyes don’t acknowledge his existence, or when you sleep far into your side of the bed with your back to him while he’s in a state of unease trying to find sleep without your warmth on him.

A whole week of nothing but side glances and avoiding being in the same place as him, especially in your shared apartment. With every passing day, the pressure growing felt like you two were drifting apart — something Toji would never want between you. He already lost one love of his life; the mere thought of losing another was strong enough to have his stomach drop.

It drives him so fucking crazy, especially when you’re in the kitchen washing dishes, Megumi and Tsumiki are at a sleepover, and him on the living room couch, supposedly watching sports highlights. But he can’t; his thoughts are too occupied reflecting on you — missing you. God, did he miss you — so fucking much that he shuts the television off and walks to the kitchen with a purpose.

He brings you in with an embrace, spooking the daylights out of you that you almost jumped. You thank your stars you were done washing the dishes by the time he came around, or else he’d give you another thing to be mad about. “J-Jesus, Toji…! Scaring me like that, what are you—“

“I’m sorry.”

Two words — that’s all it takes to silence you, and your body stiffens in his hold. Toji takes this time to indulge in having you in his arms after such a break, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your abdomen and his face buried in the crook of your neck. The way your breath hitches at his lips on your shoulder, he kisses the skin exposed from your tank top. Fuck, you make him go insane.

“I don’t want us like this, baby,” he proceeds, sighing deeply when his hand creeps to your wet one to grasp. “Pushin’ you away from me like this, it’s drivin’ me crazy. Don’t avoid me because of dumb shit I did or said.” You were listening intently; the TV was off, so there’s no way you’d be ignorant enough to close him off. But you didn’t say anything yet, making the raven-haired man keep going. “This silent treatment, it’s fuckin’ with me; sleepin’ far on one side with y’r back to me, taking showers at different times, and not looking at me in the eye…” A kiss to the neck has you breathing cautiously. “Makes me think I’m losin’ you, and I don’t want that. So….I’m sorry.”

He can’t lie; the stillness between you two has him anxious, barely keeping it together and fighting the quiver of his fingers from showing. He nearly misses your signal — slapping his forearm wrapped around your stomach. Toji loosens his hold on you, and you turn around to face him. It feels like it’s been forever since the last time your eyes were on his for more than a second, and he freezes at the touch of your hands cupping his face.

“You’d never lose me, Toji,” you say to him in a whisper so the world doesn’t intervene with this moment. You bring your face to him to kiss the scar on his lip and return the hug. “And I’m sorry, too.”

There’s hesitance when he circles his arms around your waist again, but your frame on him gradually puts him at ease. “Sorry ‘bout what?”

You peer up at him with your chin on his chest. Goddamn, your beauty was unreal. “For not apologizing sooner.”

Toji hums with an aimless nod. “So,” he brings a hand to cup your cheek, and you lean to his touch. “Are we cool?” You nod with a smile. “Good.”

You repeat. “Good.”

A few seconds go by when his viridian orbs are locked in with yours before his face draws in close. “I missed you…”

Your eyes instinctively close. “I miss—Mmm.”

Your sentence is cut off at the contact of his lips on yours, asking for permission by laying himself onto you more and licking your bottom lip. With your hands enveloping his neck, you open your mouth to receive him. A moan slips out when he pushes his tongue gently, the hand on your cheek coming around to hold you by the back of your head.

The kiss gets hot and steamier with every peck, the hand on your waist slithering down to grope your ass hiding inside your leggings. You wail as your frame hits the sink, and Toji uses this to cage you into him. A strong leg comes in between yours, having you essentially ride him as you lovingly suck his tongue. And it gets intense when he slams his face to yours, taking in your sweet noises that poke him to make more.

Sounds of lips smacking together fill the kitchen space, and your hands find their way inside his sweatshirt to roam over his back. And Toji loves your touch on him; how he yearned to feel your fingers on his skin again.

Oxygen is needed to carry on, so he breaks the kiss for you both to breathe. Heavy pants are shared at the union of your foreheads pressing together. You huff prettily with hooded eyes up to him, unveiling a smile as your fingers play with the black strands on his nape.

“I missed you, too, Toji." You finally say to him, sealing the fate for what’s to happen into the night.

“Hahhh, fuck, keep suckin’ me like that, mama…Shit, I missed this.”

You two are now in the comfort of your shared bedroom, no longer acting like strangers in your bed. Hands and lips show no interest in being away from bodies; Toji, in particular, uses this time to get his calloused hands drunk on feeling your curves, dents, and skin.

And you’re on the same boat, placing soft kisses on whatever place you can find. His lips, his clavicle, sneaking inside his sweatshirt to tweak and lick his nipples before trailing down to the dent of his sweats. Pulling the pants down sprung out his hard-on, and you feverishly greet his cock with your mouth.

Toji gets lost in the sensation of your lips and tongue, gripping the sheets at his dick and being swallowed whole into your warm throat. Fuck, you were so good at this, using your hands to stroke him as you sucked his glans harshly while gingerly massaging his balls. Your humming on him feels so good that his hand goes to your head to steady himself.

“Fucking Christ,” he curses under his breath, and his hips jerk to create friction. He wants to come so bad, stuff your face with his dick, and pump his load into you. But no, not right now. He taps your cheek, and you bat your eyes at him. “Mmm, c’mon, sweetie. Let’s switch.”

You take out his cock from your mouth and a string of saliva sticks to you and his cockhead. “But you didn’t—“

“Don’t worry; I will later,” he squishes your cheeks, wiping spit from the corners of your lips. And he means that because being one with you is what he wants more than anything tonight.

But before that, he needs to have you be prepared for him. After all, it has been a week.

“—Ahhhh, ahhhh, Tojiii, I just came…!”

“There you go, baby,” his baritone voice rocked to your core, his tongue licking and sucking the skin of your inner thigh. “Keep makin’ a mess for me...”

He nestled between your legs, his mouth stuffed in the proximity of your cunt that’s been orally stimulated for the past few minutes now. All for the sake of prep, yet Toji missed being close to your vagina like this, sucking your slick with ease.

Fuck, your taste in his buds was nearly nostalgic. It all felt familiar — felt right. His tongue swirled around your labia to make you whimper, shoving it inside your entrance to essentially fuck you on his tongue, resulting in pretty screams as you grab tuffs of raven hair. And since you just came, your legs trembled with sensitivity, trying to close your legs to shield yourself.

But that’s not what’s happening tonight, not with Toji. His hands easily hold your legs by the back of your knees, exposing your beautiful, soapy chaos of a chasm to him for him to enjoy. His face is so crowded between your legs and folds that his nose bumps and presses to the hood of your clit. You cry at his hold on you, forced to take whatever his tongue gives you.

“Moohhh, hooohh, To’jiiiii,” you’re shrieking when he laps on your clitoris, and your frame jolts from the onslaught. “Stooohhhpp! I can’t…!”

“Yes, you can,” he removes himself from your slit, licking your essence plastered on his scarred lips. Toji rests his head on the thigh where his hand is massaging. A low chortle leaves him when you shake your head, sneaking his free hand to your cunt where his middle and forefinger insert efficiently. You gasp sharply, and his thick digits go to work. “Don’t tell Daddy you can’t, sweet baby; I need you to be all wet for me.”

The title he uses on himself has your walls twitch on him. “Hahhh, I’m wet enough…Ohoo!!”

“Aht, aht, none of that,” he coos while pressing a thumb on your clit, and you wail at him as he makes circles on your bud. “Gotta have you all ready for me…” The squelches of his fingers exploring your insides are hot to hear. Fucking Christ, Toji couldn’t get enough of you, trying to fight the urge to plunge his mouth back on your cunt when you smell too good to resist.

His eyes flickered back to your face when you shudder at the scrape of his blunt fingertips on your velvety texture. “D-Daddyyy, I’m gonna cummm…”

You make him snicker. “Yeah? You gonna cum?” He takes his tongue and runs an excruciatingly sluggish lick to your clit; it has you gripping the sheets. “Gonna make a mess on Daddy again, pretty thing?” You nod hastily with a chewed lip, fuck you looked so cute being desperate for him. He removes his finger with a deep sigh. “Mmm, ‘kay, stay still fr’ me, baby.”

You find that impossible as he descends back to your leaking slit to lick and suck like crazy, his hands on your hips to keep your writhing figure from escaping the older man sucking on your nectar. Christ, you tasted so good, his jaw wet from pushing his face further in to have more of you in his mouth as possible, chasing you to ride out another orgasm for him to drink on.

He’d make you cum for the second time that night. Something you know is essential as you’re soon bent on your back, your legs to the air supported by his shoulders, and constant wails fly out your slippery lips and bounce the walls of your bedroom. You can only thank the Lord that the kids are not home right now…

“Hmaahh! Nhhaahh!! Daddyyyy, Daddyy….! Too much, I’m ‘oo full—Oooo!”

“Hghh! Hhhshiiiit, this pussy…! Try’na milk me dry, huh, sweet thing…”

Clothes have long been discarded to the bedroom floor, and the ceiling lights turned off for the natural lighting of the moon to shower the space, Toji’s nude, powerful body on top of yours as he pistons his cock into you at an irregular pace. Sweat keeps the strands of his bangs sticking to his forehead, and hoarse grunts evade him with every dig of his dick venturing inside you.

The position helps him go deep into the places both you and he can’t reach, his fat girth stretching your entrance and the tip stimulating your G-spot with grazes to your vaginal walls. His jabs become more accurate when he adds his weight onto you, caging you between him and the mattress to have your chasm tighten around him more. You howl, clenching on his length at every scratch of your sensitive areas. And it doesn’t help the fact he drives himself down to the hilt, balls deep into your creamy cunt.

“Tahhh, ohhhh, good God,” your eyes shut, taking out the sense of seeing to indulge in the others. The many sensations coursing through our fatigued frame are borderline addicting — given the fact that this is the fourth time Toji’s making you come. You’re practically drowning in the scene; any more than this, you’re bound to turn into actual putty.

Toji taps your cheek to have you open your eyelids for him. “Hey, mama,” your heart skipped at his handsome, disheveled look. Emerald eyes capture your gaze, and the smirk on his face lifts the scar. “Watch how good y’re takin’ me.”

Your stare travels down to where your sex is joined with his, white fluids exiting out of you and making a ring around the base of his shaft. You can sense the come from the round prior trailing down to the crevice of your ass; so fucking dirty. It all looked so erotic and forbidden to the eyes, throbbing on him a lot more.

“Daddy, please—Mmmph!”

“What, sweetie,” his hips change to an intermittent rhythm, evoking more cries to escape your pretty lips. He examines every feature in your expression, admiring how sexy you look under his bow. “Tell Daddy what you want.”

It hurts to think, but you try to muster a response despite your head going through such a haze. “Let me c’mmm on you, pleaseee!”

“Good girl,” he stops moving his pelvis to maneuver, standing on his knees, removing your legs from his shoulder to lie them down. Toji then comes from behind you, scooping you to his side for your body to mush with his in for a cuddle. You gasp at him inserting his cock back in, humming at the stretch of his girth that fills you up and scrapes your upper wall.

Toji returns his pelvis in thrusting motions, and your head rests on his forearm. The push of his dick grinding against your velvety texture has you squeaking in high pitches, a hand finding purchase on his rocking hip.

“Fuck,” he observes you, looking so effortlessly gorgeous by his side — he missed this so fucking bad, having you near him like it’s where you belonged. The hand you’re resting on comes around to cup your breast, fondling the mound lovingly, which makes you arch to him more. His free hand brings your chin to him, “So fuckin’ beautiful fr’ me, baby…”

The kiss makes you clamp onto him tighter, and Toji reacts by dialing the speed. He trails his lips to your cheek and the crook of your neck to lay more kisses and suck on your skin. The hand on your breast squeezes it, occasionally pressing down on your nipple with his forefinger. Yet it doesn’t distract you from the constant stimulation of your G-spot, screaming and toes curling from the diligent strokes against the wall of your vagina.

Your brain turns into mush, spit coming down your agape lips, and your brows furrow while Toji squishes your cheeks. “Ohhh, Daddy, right thereeee, I’m so close…!”

“Me too, sweetie, a lil’ bit more…—Aiishh!” He can feel it, his length pulsating inside you when your orgasms climb together. He brings your mouth back to his, taking your delicious screams when your bodies lock in together to climax.

A few more harsh thrusts to your ass, and Toji spurts his load into you, sinking into the pleasurable sensation of your folds contracting around his girth. Your hand scratches his hip, muffled howls taken by him while the hand on your breast sneaks away to grasp your hand, fingers intertwining to seek connectedness.

Quivering bodies soon calm down when the wave of their finish is finally gone, and you two sigh deep into a passionate kiss. It breaks with a soft noise while he nibbles on your lip before letting go. “Toji,” you said his name in stifles, your hand caressing his sweaty cheek.

The older man huffs, placing his hot palm on your cheek to stroke in return. “Yeah, mama?”

“Sleep,” you demanded with a sigh, fatigued eyes and trenched brows. The single word has you both chuckling in the hot air between you before he kisses you gently one last time. Exhaustion takes over you both, Toji bringing the comforter to put around your bodies, laying his head on the pillows as you rest yours on his arm, your hand still held with his.

His free hand guides you to be pressed up against him, his cock still inside your creamy cunt. He’s comforted by the snug of your walls and the flesh of your body molding with his hot, sturdy frame. Sleepy green eyes go to the creek of the curtains covering the bedroom window. “Maybe we outta argue more often.”

He knew that would make you giggle; the faint rise and fall of your shoulder is highlighted by the moonlight creeping through the window. “Good night, Toji.” The way you said his name sounded like a spell, closing his eyes at the somnolent tone.

“Night, baby.”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

5K notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 6 days

Note

i want jj to try and teach me to play some horror video game but everytime i jump in his lap and unintentionally grind into him, he’s just losing interest and slowing become preoccupied with touching all up on me instead of focusing on the game

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

“why is it so dark?” you giggle, guiding the character you’d picked out through the abandoned hospital. it takes jj a moment to respond, because his eyes are located on the way you’re split open on his lap— tiny booty shorts doing very little to contain the globes of your ass, the perfect outline of your pussy pressed directly to his bulge through his basketball shorts.

“uh,” he scratches his head behind his ear, forcing his eyes back onto the screen. “you can pull out a flashlight, press square.” he instructs, feeling the weight of your head drop to look down at the controller in your hands before successfully demonstrating what needed to be done on screen.

“yay!” you chirp, shifting around on his lap forcing your crotch to slightly grind against his— yet you were too focused to acknowledge it. jj on the other hand winces, playing it off as a cough as he pushes himself up a little higher, having sank down into the couch.

“uh-huh, yep — good job babe.” he congratulates, whipping his hat off for a second to run a hand through his hair. you’re locked in, wide eyes staring at the screen.

“oh god, i’m scared.” you moan as your character pushes open double doors into a dark hallway. your body tenses up in fear and he swears he can feel you clenching, the fabric of your shorts so thin that each pulse and movement can be felt through his own.

“you got it.” he drawls lazily, accepting his fate as he can’t control the boner he feels forming beneath you. he lulls his head back against the couch, once hand still placed lazily on your hip as he awaits the scolding for distracting you whilst playing the game. it doesn’t come, instead — the suspenseful silence is replaced by a loud crash on the screen and your squeal, jumping on his lap. you fidget, practically rocking back and forth on his growing bulge as you panic, slamming your fingers into buttons and nearly breaking the joystick on the damn controller to get out of there as soon as possible.

“oh my god, oh my god!” you pant, whimpering in fear sounding uncannily similar to how you do when you’re close.

“my thoughts exactly.” he strains, eyes squinted as he tries to hold you still — damn near cumming in his pants. it’s only when your character is back to safety, you crane your neck around with a proud grin at your own skills in the video game. as your senses return to you, you give a little wiggle and a frown appears on your face, doe eyes blinking at him innocently.

“uh, hey there mama.” he greets awkwardly lifting up a hand.

“are you hard, jayj?” you mewl quietly and he winces through his teeth, pushing himself to sit up a little higher and reaching between your layers to finally adjust himself in his shorts, caught out.

“look, i… promise you i wasn’t plannin’ on that happening it’s just— you sat on me and it was fine but then you started movin’ around n’stuff— and then there was the whimperin’ and my dick was like BOOM. good morning— y’know?” he gestures, scratching beneath his nose nervously. you climb off, only to restraddle him front on.

“why didn’t you tell me? would have stopped playing the game and started playing with you.” you smile sweetly, beginning to grind down on him. his jaw drops, releasing an exhale he felt liked he’d been holding forever— hands sliding up your body to touch your torso all over.

“god damn… i — uh, i’ll make a note of that. for next time.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

#anon #jj maybank prompt

487 notes · View notes

katherines-imagines · 1 year

Text

“Don’t be a skxawng, just ask her.”

pairings: neteyam x reader

warnings: cute, fluff, bad writing

key: skxawng - moron, muntxa - mate

summary: Neytiri and Jake talk about you and Neteyam being perfect for each other.

As long as Neytiri could remember, Neteyam always followed you everywhere.

Where ever Y/n L/n is, Neytiri’s eldest son was glued right by her side.

Didn’t matter if they were five or fifteen, he had always been there, never embarrassed once by Y/n’s akward energetic personality.

Neytiri always kept an eye on the two kids, and couldn’t help but notice her and Jake in them.

As Y/n was passionately talking and Neteyam was listening, Neytiri was watching from afar, as Jake walked behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

“Hey gorgeous, what are you looking at,” he asked his lover.

As Neytiri glanced at her mate, she motioned at the kids. “Your son is in love, you know this?”

Jake spots the two laughing and nods in acknowledgment. “Yea, Neteyam’s been following her around for years now.”

Neytiri wistfully sighed and leaned her head against Jake’s chest and looked up at him.

“Oh ma Jake, Neteyam is in love. He grows to fast,” she said, wiping a tear away.

“Neytiri,” Jake starts.

“You know he loves you very much, being in love doesn’t change that.”

Neytiri nods in agreement. “I know this, but why my son is not brave to ask to court her, I do not know,” she scoffs.

“Yeah, that one is definitely something we need to work on with him.”

Neytiri sighed, “Oh ma ‘Teyam. Y/n is good for him, yes?”

Jake nods, staring at the said person laughing.

“She will make great Tsahik,” Neytiri says with no hint of uncertainty in her voice.

“No doubt she will,” Jake agrees.

Hearing a crash, the parents turn to the noise to see Neteyam holding Y/n, as if she has tripped and he caught her.

Toruk Makto and his wife stood, silently urging their son to make a move.

As the pause between the teenagers had been prolonged, Neteyam cleared his throat and stepped back.

The adults facepalmed and looked at each other.

“Your son is stupid,” Neytiri said, turning to Jake.

“My son? He’s a momma’s boy, that’s all you,” Jake retorted.

Before they could continue arguing, Neteyam walked away from Y/n, headed in their direction.

“Mother, Father, what are you doing here,” their son asked in confusion.

“Apparently watching you be a stupid skxawng,” Jake answered his ignorant son.

As Neteyam spluttered, Neytiri held a hand to silence him.

“You must, what is it you say ma Jake, ‘man up?’ Is that how you say? You must ‘man up’ and ask her to be your muntxa, if you like her that is?”

Neteyam paused for a brief moment, trying to choose his words wisely.

“Yes..” he started. “I like her. A lot.”

“Then I see no problem, go ask her,” Neytiri told her son.

Neteyam nodded and turned to find the said girl when he was suddenly stopped by his father.

“Hey, Neteyam,” Toruk Makto called out.

“Yes sir?”

“Don’t be a skxawng, just ask her.”

———————————————————————

A/N: Please comment what you think!! I might have an idea for part 2 or I might make another imagine similar to this for when Neteyam asks Y/n 🤭

#avatar #avatar x you #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #atwow #avatar 2 #james cameron avatar #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully imagine #neteyam x you #neteyam sully #sully family #neytiri #jake sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

4K notes · View notes

blueparadis · 9 months

Text

LEMONADE + SHIU KONG // f!reader ( she's a sniper), smoking, mention of murder and violence, implicit smut, semi-public ( happens in a car ), little tension between them, rivals to fvck buddies dynamics, he is such a tease here. 1.3 (w.c)

special thanks to @poohbea for beta-reading. without her, i really wouldn't have posted this. i had something in mind and this is entirely different. so i said better luck next time to myself and found the courage to post this. | back to nav. | also tagging @yuujispinkhair

“You’re not nearly as inconspicuous as you believe yourself to be.” Kong mutters off-handedly under his breath, reaching for the latch of your belt. His minty tobacco-laced breath paired with that familiar musky cologne threatens to send your nerves into a frenzy. He’s too close for someone who claims to ‘just wanted to undo your seatbelt’. He had no reason to but he did it anyway, probably because you were asking too many questions. He could have easily pressed one of those buttons on the driver’s side door, the one that unlocks all seat belts at once. The car is fancy enough to have those kinds of luxury features anyway, but you can’t help the racing of your heart when his fingers brush your skin. It’s only when he sits back in his own seat do you register his remark. Did he just scold you? The possibility alone has you licking your bottom lip nervously.

It’s not as though he never has, but given your history with him, he rarely comments on your professionalism. He has been your handler for almost a year now and has yet to actually correct or complain about the way you do your job. He’s proud of your skills, he has to be, otherwise, he wouldn’t be hiring you for every sniper-kill case he gets.

“I heard you were back in town,” he starts, tapping on his cigarette packet before taking one between his lips. “But I couldn't contact you until I got the green light. That, and I’ve been too damn busy with the bounty offers that keep coming up.” He digs into his breast pocket to fish out a lighter, the flame flicking to life as his thumb rolls over the spark wheel. You look at him visibly confused, something he acknowledges with an amused huff. “Were you really so busy that you couldn't read the briefing I sent you?” He is definitely scolding you, but for what exactly? Trying to stay neutral in the face of his crude teasing, you let out a small breath, choosing to keep his gaze despite the nagging need to look away. He’s changed a bit. There’s worry in his eyes, more than usual, eyebrows creased as he continues. “Ah! I can't let you slip up now — ”

“Why am I here?” You interject with a frown.

“What?” He has the audacity to look at you surprised, as if he wasn’t the one to call you here again.

“This is the third time this month you’ve had me meet you… and in case you haven’t noticed, I have a bit of a busy schedule.” Kong lets you speak for longer than ten seconds for the first time in a very long time, his bad habit of interrupting taking the backseat for once. When he doesn’t answer you, you click your tongue, irritation evident in the furrow of your brow. “Why am I here, Kong-san—?”

“Shiu.” He corrects. Guess you spoke too soon. “And you still didn't answer my question. Did you or did you not—”

“I did.” You respond sourly. “And it told me a whole lot of nothing. Which is why I'll ask you again. Why am I here, Shiu?” Despite your irritation, the glaring fact of his contributions to your career as a sniper sits heavy on your shoulders as you sit in weighted silence. He knows it too, and never fails to bring it up every time you try to walk away, try to tell him you don’t need his help. He’s pushed you farther than anyone else ever has. Certainly, you owe it to him, but his ego is already big enough without the offer of such a confession, and you would rather put a bullet in your skull than admit that.

The air inside the car grows thick with smoke as he takes drag after drag of his cigarette, not that you minded, you’re a smoker yourself, but just to spite him you opened the window by your side. ��Isn’t it obvious?” Kong soon discards the butt out of his own window, studying you all the while, observing the mix of question and frustration that creases your forehead as your frown deepens. His lips tug up in one corner ever so slightly, too slight for anyone else to spot, but being around him as often as you have, you knew it was coming. “I’ve missed you.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. What a horrible man… he’s toying with you.

“Hilarious,” you mutter, offering him a sarcastic chuckle. He doesn’t waver, doesn’t look away, that small smile growing at your skepticism. The realization has your heart beating in your ears, and suddenly finding it difficult to keep his gaze.

“Want me to prove it to you?” He dips his head slightly, the leather of his seat squeaking in protest as he leans closer.

“No.” Your reply was instantaneous but you do not move, his hand reaching to play with the necklace resting against your collarbone, the very someone he gifted you after your first successful case. “Aren't we supposed to be doing a job here?”

“You tell me. Haven't you read the briefing?” Again with the same question. He is far too calm in this situation, fingers caressing the hammering pulse that lies just below the surface of your skin. “You weren’t lying to me were you—?”

“This is going nowhere.” You huff, finally breaking the intense staring contest he had trapped you in, finding the courage to withdraw from his touch momentarily.

“It could if…” he guides you back to him, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gaze dipping to your lips. “If you wanted.”

You bite your lip lowering your head to hide your merriment. “Like the last time?” You ask with a knowing smile. If you wanted. Yeah. Sure. As if he didn’t. Because during the ‘last time’ in question, things were entirely different. You two weren’t out for a job. In fact, you were in a situation similar to this one, in his car, engaging in your usual back and forth. It’s unclear exactly what came over you that day, but those sly eyes and that cocky smile had you seeing your handler as less of a mentor and more of the man he was. The conversation devolved into his lips against yours, his hands against your hips as he encouraged you from your seat onto his lap. Thunder rumbled the heavens and rain battered against the windshield, the perfect mask for inevitable heavy breaths and throaty moans. Your skin tingled beneath his touch, his lips, his teeth, the press of his thigh between your legs that had electricity crackling up the base of your spine. His name fogged the windows, each syllable working its way through the tresses of your mind till that was all you could utter, all that truly mattered. He reveled in that, in the way you gave yourself to him almost entirely. How your body grew hot with every caress, every thrust, every kiss. What did you even call this feeling? Neither of you knew, but it was clear that either didn’t want it to stop. By the end of it, his presence spanned your body, inside and out.

Shiu laughs at your subtle accusation. It has the kind of warmth that reminds you of cozy mornings during winter. There is a pregnant pause after he says. “Yeah.” Bobbing his head in a ‘yes’. You shake your head slowly, an amused breath leaving your nose as your nerves buzz with memories past.

You sigh, assessing him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what exactly he’s hiding beneath that elaborately organized talk of his. But the man is a vault, hiding behind dark eyes that threaten to reel you in again. It has you playing with your tongue, curling it against the insides of your mouth before smacking your lips. “Was there really any job for me to begin with?” You retort.

Shiu Kong smiles, his carefully crafted demeanor crumbling in the face of the woman he’s slowly beginning to fall for. “There wasn’t.” He says bashfully.

—

@angelshub @public-safety-network @underratedcharactercorner

1K notes · View notes

imaginedanvrs · 3 months

Text

where did you go?

part 1, part 2 l masterlist

natasha x reader. after a week of your worst nightmares coming to life, you come back a different person and Natasha tries desperately to retrieve your old self. but you just don't let her

word count: 9k

warnings: mentions of kidnapping and torture (not in the kinky way this time), canon marvel type injuries, shock, dissociative amnesia, depression, break up, alcoholism

The world around Natasha thrummed endlessly as she continued to climb past the speed limit that she took no care for. Even in her state of distress, she maintained the reflexes and awareness that made her one of the few people who could drive so fast down the cramped street without issue (or fine) until she pulled up as close as she could to the city hospital. The redhead knew the way to the ward they kept you on as precisely as she did her own home, having been to that very building enough times for her teammates. She had always prayed against all odds that she would never have to go there for you, especially since you disappeared a week prior.

“Miss Romanoff?” A timid nurse asked when Natasha crossed her path.

“Where is she?” Natasha demanded at once as she scanned the immediate area.

“Room six, but I should warn you-” the nurse called but the redhead had already started down the corridor towards your room, ignoring the warning that would have made the next few minutes marginally easier to process.

“Malysh,” Natasha breathed her first sigh of relief in a week as she stepped into your room and closed the door behind her without looking away. Your head was turned towards the window on the opposite side of the room and you didn’t acknowledge the sound of your girlfriend’s voice. Natasha simply assumed you were asleep at first and crept across the room to the chair, pausing when she saw your eyes were open but that they didn’t appear quite right. They were unfocused and frozen and the Avenger realised with a sharp pang that there was no brightness to them. It wasn’t just your eyes either.

“Hey,” your girlfriend greeted tentatively as she sat down and watched you with great apprehension. You were paler than she had ever seen and the scratches that Natasha would have usually tended to were the least of her concerns.

“Hey,” you whispered back, your gaze remaining locked on the window. Natasha willed herself to smile at the mere fact she had received some kind of response.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” she continued as she took your frail hand in her own.

“M’here,” you repeated. Natasha’s weak smile faltered.

“Y/n?” She asked, watching you closely as she felt her entire body freeze in anticipation.

“Y/n,” you repeated again though your voice was indicating that you were already growing tired. Natasha didn’t have a response of her own to that, she merely stared at the blank features of the woman she adored.

“Miss Romanoff?” A new voice called. Natasha tore her eyes away from you and turned to the door where a doctor was making her way into the room with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’ve got some concerns.”

“Tell me yours first,” the redhead said adamantly, wanting answers instead of pity. Pity wasn’t going to help either of you and she needed to know what she had to do to get you back to her.

“We’re not too concerned about the physical injuries. She’s got some broken ribs and some lung damage we want to monitor but she’s going to be alright,” the doctor informed as she glanced your way.

“She doesn’t look alright,” Natasha commented bluntly.

“Look…a’right,” you echoed on cue.

“It might be shock,” the doctor said with an edge of uncertainty that told Natasha the doctor was relatively new to delivering news like that. If she wasn’t so impatient for answers she would have been gentler with the young woman.

“Or?” She pushed.

“Miss l/n is scheduled for a scan tomorrow to rule out brain damage.” An uneasy silence filled the room for a few uncomfortable moments as Natasha struggled to process what the news meant while avoiding looking directly at you, suddenly unwilling to see your dull eyes that couldn’t meet her own. But she didn’t let go of your hand, even if it was unnaturally still and cold.

“So if it’s just shock, she’ll snap out of it?” The Avenger queried, as though she wasn’t only preparing for the worst outcome. You had always been the optimist in the relationship.

“With time, yes,” the doctor confirmed with a confidence Natasha was glad to hear.

“And if it’s not,” she pushed.

“Then we’ll assess her for the best course of action.” Natasha thought that sounded as though it was fresh out of a med school textbook.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“She’s in the best place right now,” the doctor added upon seeing Natasha’s clear agitation.

“Thanks,” she repeated, knowing there was no denying that fact. Even the Avengers came to hospitals when they needed urgent attention as there were only so many resources and personnel at the tower or even the S.H.I.E.L.D base.

With a polite nod, the doctor left Natasha in your company. The redhead still didn’t look at you, even when you began to mutter again. “Six’een…four…” you continued on as though you were giving your girlfriend some kind of code just to see her sweat to solve it despite spending a sleepless week doing exactly that as she pulled every recourse into finding you. She had failed. When the hospital had rang her, they told Natasha briefly about how a vehicle had pulled up just a couple feet short of the ER entrance and left you there. She hadn’t found you, your captors had simply given back your corpse.

“It’s okay,” Natasha whispered, her vision blurring as she pulled out her phone with her free hand and forced herself to do something proactive instead of just sitting there waiting to see how bad the news she would receive in a few days would be.

“S’kay,” you copied as Natasha sent out an abundance of messages to her team and other useful contacts about your arrival at the hospital, willing at least one of them to be able to track down the people in that vehicle. She couldn’t let herself be consumed by anger and revenge in that moment, not when she needed to stay by your side, but Natasha found it challenging to put those impulse feelings aside when your hand felt weightless. She brought your knuckles up to her lips and placed a tender kiss to them just as a tear rolled onto your hand.

“Yeah,” she breathed out, letting herself imagine for a moment that your words were your own. “You’re gonna get better and we’ll go home and I think we should go away on a trip once you feel up for it,” she continued to believe.

“Trip,” you picked up.

“Exactly, baby,” Natasha smiled through her increasing tears. Your face remained blank.

Natasha stayed in that uncomfortable hospital chair for the rest of the day and through another sleepless night with you. Once it got past midnight and you showed no signs of taking your focus off of the window and letting yourself rest, one of the nurses gave you some medication to help and an hour later you were finally asleep. She should have been relieved at the sight, but it only made Natasha wonder how much of your time away you had spent unconscious. What the fuck had they done to you? Maybe it was for the best that she didn’t know until you were ready to tell her about it, though that was hard to believe given how many torture methods Natasha knew of and could picture vividly being inflicted on you. She always thought she could keep you safe from ever being subject to those darker horrors in the world, and instead it had made you captive to them.

“I can feel your insomnia from here,” Wanda called, snapping Natasha out of one of her rare trances of being stuck in her own head. “Sorry, I knocked,” the Sokovian added as she lingered by the door and her gaze flickered to you. “They told me what’s going on,” Wanda continued as she made her way across the room to the chair next to Natasha. “You should go home and get some rest while she’s getting the scan. I’ll stay,” she offered as she sat down and finally looked at you properly. The shock that flashed quickly across her features was not lost on Natasha.

“Sixteen…four…thirty…” you muttered as you stared straight ahead.

“She keeps doing that,” Natasha said. “Can’t you do something?” It was the first time Wanda had ever heard her mentor sound so helpless and it took her a moment to force herself not to give Natasha a sympathetic smile. “Can’t you just reach in and pull her out?” The redhead continued as she stared at Wanda.

“I don’t think I should risk making it worse,” the brunette admitted as you continued to mutter disjointed numbers to yourself.

“You think that’s possible?” Natasha asked with a hint of disdain. Wanda knew her teammate wasn’t frustrated at you, but if she allowed her sleep deprived state to take control of her emotions then she would only become more bitter.

“I think that her mind is fragile and now is not the time to go rooting around in it,” Wanda stated with a bluntness that Natasha needed to hear. She didn’t respond and the pair sat in silence for a while until several nurses came into the room to take you away and Natasha immediately stood up to follow. “Nat,” Wanda called with a gentle hold on her arm. “Go home. We’re not going to get any answers straight away and if we do I’ll call you,” Wanda tried to reason but the redhead refused without any real consideration.

“Can you just get some clean clothes and my toothbrush? I’m not going anywhere,” Natasha insisted as she went to follow the nurses but Wanda pulled her back once more. Natasha felt her anger boil over and was about to make some demands she would regret but thankfully never got the chance to voice them because Wanda pulled her into a tight hug. She froze instinctively until her muscles trembled under the stress and embraced the younger hero.

“I don’t know what to do without her,” Natasha admitted as tears welled in her eyes for the umpteenth time.

“She’ll be back soon and she’ll need you when she is. Go get some rest,” Wanda spoke into her shoulder until Natasha gradually pulled away with a weak smile.

“Not yet,” she said, wiping her tears defiantly and starting down the hall after you.

“So she’s fine?” Natasha asked as she stared down at your unchanged features several days later. She frowned, admittedly having only prepared herself for the worst possible answers from the doctors and wasn’t quite sure how to handle the fact that you were merely in deep shock. It was good news, of course. It was just something that no amount of medicine would cure, nor was there a clear path for Natasha to walk with you to bring you back to your original state. How was she meant to find you?

“We’re arranging some meetings for her to see a psychologist and ideally she’ll be discharged in a few days,” the doctor informed.

“Right,” Natasha muttered. Bringing you home would be for the best. You would rest in your own bed, eat your comfort food and watch your favourite shows. She would run you a bath and use your favourite bubblebath that had been discontinued months ago when Natasha had hidden one away for when she thought you would need it most. She would take you on the walk routes you always enjoyed the most and hold your hand tight so that you had nothing to fear. She’d listen when you were eventually ready to talk about your week away. She would help you get better.

You stirred from your sleep and Natasha observed you closely. Usually she didn’t even realise when you woke up because you remained just as still until you began to mutter again, but that time you shifted in the bed and the only sound to be heard was the small grunt of discomfort at the back of your throat. “Detka?” Your girlfriend called.When your eyes slowly opened, they met hers. “Hey,” she greeted with a smile of relief and moved closer, causing the chair to screech and you to flinch. Natasha winced at your reaction but didn’t let it deter her. “How are you feeling?” She asked, taking your change as hope that you would respond.

“Tired,” you whispered as you took in her dishevelled appearance. She was still the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. You reached out tentatively and stroked her cheek with the back of your pointer finger, finding her soft skin to be the familiarity you needed along with her voice and smile.

“I bet,” she chuckled softly. You looked exhausted though she would never tell you that. “I missed you,” she told you, searching your eyes for the glimmer of adoration she always saw in them when you looked at her. They were just as dull as they had been a few days prior and when you offered her a small smile, that also failed to reach your eyes.

She’s been through a lot, Natasha told herself when she felt her uneasiness arise. “They said you can come home soon,” she told you when you didn’t respond. You nodded a little and looked away from the redhead to take in the small room and the busy hallway outside. Natasha watched as you turned your attention elsewhere and tried to push aside the pang she felt in her chest. There were a lot of feelings coming too close to the surface that she didn’t want or expect. Nothing about the scenes that had been playing out in that hospital bed had been as Natsha expected.

“Do you want me to get someone?” Natasha asked in an attempt to get any kind of response from you again but you simply shook your head. For the first time since Natasha had met you, she didn’t know what to say.

“You look tired,” you commented after several silent minutes.

“I haven’t slept,” Natasha admitted with an honesty she had always promised to have about her wellbeing.

“Maybe you should go home,” you said without looking at her. Your girlfriend stared at your side profile, not quite believing what you had said. Did you not want her there?

“Are you sure?” She asked, not having anticipated leaving the hospital grounds unless you were with her.

“Yeah, go get some sleep,” you encouraged with another disguised smile.

“Okay,” Natasha said, standing slowly. “Just call me if you need me,” she placed your phone down on the bed next to you. The screen had been replaced. It used to be covered in scratches but perhaps it had cracked badly when you were taken so Natasha had it fixed. Or maybe it was a new phone entirely.

“Yeah,” you agreed though somehow Natasha wasn’t convinced you would.

“I love you,” she told you at the door.

“I love you too,” you didn’t hesitate to reply and noticed the redhead’s shoulders dip slightly. You felt bad at that, knowing that in practically asking her to go you were giving her more reason to worry when she had no doubt done enough of that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to handle her doting presence in that moment.

You were overwhelmed and struggling to ignore the flashes of your captivity as bile rose in your throat. You weren’t there anymore, you were safe. There was no reason to keep thinking about it, but you couldn’t stop. Sixteen. It was far too much, too intense. The room was too bright and even Natasha’s lingering presence filled the space too much after so much solitude. Four. It was too loud outside, too open, too much air, not enough. I can’t breathe. Then the machines next to you joined the chaos and suddenly you weren’t alone again. There was so much going on, so much to process. Voices were calling but you didn't want to listen.

I can’t do this, just turn it all off.

And then it was settled. Everything was peaceful and indifferent. It was manageable and the storm finally stilled. You breathed out and felt the air rush gently past your lips as you settled back into the pillow that cushioned your head and felt the sheets under your fingertips. It’s okay, you thought even though you couldn’t quite place how you ended up in a hospital bed.

Sixteen, four, thirty, nine. That was all you could recall.

The memories returned in patches throughout the day, building and building until you found yourself far too high up and stumbled off of that sharp ledge again. That happened four more times before you went home.

Natasha was good to you as you recovered. Too good. She was patient, understanding, helpful and incredibly caring and you offered her very little in response. She continued to come and visit you though only for a few hours at a time, able to tell when you became too tired and had enough of any company. It hurt her everytime she left, more so as she didn’t know it hurt you too. You didn’t know how to tell her that. You didn’t know how to express how overwhelming it was to have the flashes of your torture strike you like a knife even though you were always waiting on edge for it to hit.

Natasha wasn’t entirely oblivious to it all. She saw how your heartbeat was always unusually high on the monitors just like your blood pressure when anyone came to check it. She knew that you didn’t sleep unless you were given something to help and that you rejected the tablets more often than not. She noticed how you constantly eyed the door and the tiles in the ceiling. She knew that you weren’t eating or drinking enough and how laboursome it was just to go to the bathroom and back. Your girlfriend could tell you were struggling, she just didn’t know how much because you wouldn’t tell her.

On the day you were discharged, you dreaded going home because it would be harder for you to hide your episodes and nightmares Natasha had yet to witness. You felt guilty for not seeking comfort in your shared apartment with your girlfriend and you really couldn’t have asked for her to be any more supportive about the whole ordeal, so why couldn’t you simply lean into it?

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into your apartment was the strong smell of disinfectant that meant Natasha had gone on one of her cleaning frenzies in your absence. She only ever did that on the rare occasions she had some time off from work and you weren’t around and once you had even come back to her scrubbing the ceiling. You had told her to get a hobby and she had threatened to throw the bowl of dirty was over you.

Natasha began saying something about ordering takeout to which you silently nodded as you took in the apartment like the first day you moved in together. It didn’t have the same homey feeling you once got the moment you stepped through the door, nor did it provide you the same comfort you could seek after a hard day. First your girlfriend and then your home, why did nothing so stable and familiar feel safe? You breathed out steadily, heading for the bathroom as you felt the panic spread through your nerves and missing Natasha’s concern as she watched you go.

The rest of the evening continued on those unsteady grounds that the redhead was cautious to step on. Once the meal arrived and Natasha put one of your favourite shows on the tv, she sat down on the sofa you always curled up together on and stared at her food container when she noticed you sit down on the arm chair that only ever seemed to be used by guests. You didn’t acknowledge the tv much and only picked at your food, feeling Natasha’s gaze on you even when she tried to be subtle. You never used to, but your paranoia made you conscious of things like that.

“Do you want me to run you a bath? I kept a bottle of that bubble bath that was discontinued,” Natasha offered and you suddenly became aware of how little you were giving back to her.

“No thanks,” you muttered, feeling a queasiness come on.

“What can I do to help you?” She asked after a long beat passed. You didn’t look at her because you knew that if you did you would see a face that would only make you feel more guilty. She just wanted to help and you honestly had no idea how to let her do so. “Do you want to talk to Kate? Or Wanda? Or-” Natasha suggested after sumising that you weren’t going to open up to her any time soon and she didn’t want you to keep things to yourself longer than necessary.

“No,” you cut her off. You had absolutely no intention of reliving the past week to anyone, you just wanted to forget about it.

“That therapist’s office isn’t far and it’s not until late morning so I was thinking we could-”

“I’m not going,” you interrupted again and carried the first clear defiance Natasha had seen on you in months.

“Why?” She pushed with a frown.

“I don’t want to talk to a shrink,” you insisted. The irony of that wasn’t lost on the redhead. She had said the same thing numerous times ever since she joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

“You should talk to someone,” Natasha pushed, unknowingly aggravating you further.

“Why? It won’t change anything. Most of the time I can’t remember it anyway,” you told her as you actively avoided her searching gaze.

“That sounds like all the more reason to go,” Natasha frowned. She was no psychologist herself, but she knew that wasn’t normal. “Please, y/n,” she pushed as new worries sprang to the front of her mind.

“No, Nat. It’s my choice,” you snapped, putting your mostly untouched meal down and getting up from the chair without letting your girlfriend get another word in.

“Fuck,” Natasha muttered as she heard you close the bedroom door, making your message clear. She’s pushing me away, Natasha realised with a sense of dread, and it was because she was trying to help.

Natasha slept on the sofa that night, forcing herself to give you the space you clearly needed. She was restless and awake more than asleep as she considered everything she could that you would want. It shouldn’t have been so hard for someone who had known you for so many years and dated you for three of them to figure out what support you needed, until Natasha recalled the dullness that hadn’t lifted from your eyes in the past week. It wasn’t the you she was used to, it was someone else, someone she didn’t know.

The moment a small whimper could be heard from the bedroom, the spy sat bolt upright on the sofa and listened closely for you, finetuning her senses the way she had been trained to. Another whimper closely followed and Natasha’s fears forced her to her feet and through the apartment, anticipating the worst as she grabbed the handgun concealed in the kitchen and threw open the bedroom door. She didn’t relax when she assessed that you weren’t in danger, finding your distress equally alarming.

“Hey,” Natasha said gently as she put the gun down and crouched in front of your sweating form. You were crying out weakly as you struggled against the duvet you had gotten wrapped around you in your unconscious panic. Natasha swiftly untangled you from your bindings and in doing so woke you up. The way you kicked away from your girlfriend upon seeing her stand over you would be an image Natasha wouldn’t be able to forget for some time, even as she gave you her assurance. “It’s just me, you’re safe,” she told you.

You panted as you stared back at Natasha with wide eyes until it eventually clocked in your mind that her words were the truth. “Hey,” she greeted again as she tentatively sat on the edge of the bed. You made no move to embrace her like you used to after a bad dream, only glancing around the room as your breathing began to steady. “If you want to talk about it I’m-”

“No,” you denied without hearing her out. “But…” you started with uncertainty. “If you want to stay…” you shrugged and Natasha understood that that was the closest she was going to get to an invitation. She smiled in the dark and slipped into the bed beside you as you lay back down without closing the space that seemed too grande to the redhead and cramped to you. It was a compromise that Natasha hoped would put you on the right track.

Another week passed without any progress on finding your captors. Natasha rarely left the apartment so all of the chasing she did was done on her own laptop from the sofa while you distanced yourself in the bedroom. She had agents and teammates following up on any leads she found but they all came up empty. The redhead had only asked you once if there were any details about your captors or where you were kept that you could remember though you shut her down quick enough for Natasha to know it was best not to ask again.

Natasha was beginning to suspect that the only way she could bring you any comfort was to kill the people that took you because you were responding less and less to her approaches while isolating yourself more. You wouldn’t go to therapy, even when it was suggested you could attend online and you declined any visitors that came to see you. You rarely stepped foot outside the bedroom and never left the apartment. You weren’t eating or drinking enough or washing as much as you used to. You didn’t even show any interest in the tv, adamant on spending most hours in bed by yourself. You wouldn’t let her comfort you after your nightmares and had yet to witness any of your episodes that you locked yourself in the bathroom to endure. You wouldn’t accept help and you weren’t getting better.

“Hi,” Wanda greeted Natasha with a warm hug.

“Thanks for coming,” the redhead said as she glanced in the direction of your room that was starting to feel less like a shared space. “She won’t want to see you though,” Natasha warned.

“I remember how that felt,” Wanda shrugged simply. “She needs this,” she said as she walked through the apartment with Natasha following a few steps behind.

“Hey, y/n,” Wanda greeted gently after knocking several times. Natasha watched from the doorway as the younger hero ventured into the dark room and over to the curtains that she pulled back half way. You didn’t respond, merely pulling the duvet up in hopes that Wanda would take the hint and leave you alone. She didn’t, deciding to open a window an inch to let the cool autumn air in.

“I brought you bubble tea,” she said as she placed the peace offering down on the bedside table next to you. “I thought you could use it,” she added as she sat down on the floor next to your side of the bed, content to keep talking to you for a while even if you weren’t going to answer. She knew that you were awake.

“Kate’s been asking after you,” the Sokovian continued. “They all have actually, but Kate the most.” You didn’t want to see them. You didn’t want to see anyone. You were fully aware that you weren’t the same person that they knew and you didn’t know how to get that person back. It would only be so long before they all grew tired of who you were becoming, especially when they finally realised that their attempts to help you were futile. You didn’t think Natasha was far off from that conclusion herself and as much as you wanted to stop it happening, you simply didn’t have the energy.

Your girlfriend shifted her weight as she watched from the doorway and Wanda nodded at her to give you both some time. She closed the door behind her though Wanda felt her linger outside for a moment before leaving. “She wants to help,” Wanda told you. “You need help, y/n.” You pulled the duvet down slightly and opened your eyes for Wanda to offer you a small smile.

“I’m just so tired,” you whispered hopelessly.

“I know. It’s exhausting having to relive it constantly,” Wanda admitted. “That’s why you need to get out of bed and focus on something else.”

“Then talk to a shrink to bring it back up again?” You questioned sceptically.

“To help you manage it,” she corrected. You weren’t convinced, but you reached for the drink and took a sip of the sweet liquid that touched your dehydration. “Do you want help having a shower or bath?” Wanda offered.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you dismissed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Wanda insisted with a smile you couldn’t return. She stayed with you for a while longer, though after that your responses grew thinner and thinner until eventually Wanda said goodbye and left you to fall back into a shallow slumber.

“How is she?” Natasha asked when she saw Wanda reamurge.

“Struggling,” Wanda admitted. “I’m going to come back tomorrow though and see if I can get her up.” Natasha nodded, thinning that it would be good for someone other than her to try and get you out of bed. “How are you doing?” The brunette asked with concern.

“I’ll be okay when she is,” Natasha dismissed.

“You need to look after yourself too though,” Wanda pointed out though she could tell that was the least of her mentor’s concerns. “Any new leads?”

“All dead ends,” Natasha huffed. “Fuckers.”

“We’ve got the best people on it, we’ll get them,” Wanda assured. Natasha wasn’t sure she could wholly believe that, but it was all she had to cling onto in hopes of getting you back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call if you need me,” Wanda said with a supportive smile that lifted Natasha’s spirits more than anything else had that day. Unfortunately, her hopes that Wanda was what you needed were humbled the next day when the Sokovian stepped foot inside your bedroom again to find you far less reluctant than the day prior.

“Come on, y/n. You agreed,” Wanda tried to reason calmly though it did nothing to ease the temper you seemed to have woken up with.

“I’m not a child,” you snapped. “I’ll get up when I’m ready.” Natasha watched from the doorway as the younger Avenger didn’t allow her patience to waver.

“You’ll feel better once you’ve had a wash and we can change the sheets so you-”

“Leave me alone,” you interrupted with desperation, too embarrassed to admit that the thought of just having a brief wash was too much. Something that used to be so thoughtless and simple had turned into anything but as you anticipated every step involved now that you weren’t moving on autopilot anymore. Even the thought of changing your clothes and coming back to clean sheets you used to love the smell of seemed as though it would just be a disruption to the only safe space you had. There were too many changes, too much going on and too many thoughts.

Then, like a punch to the gut, your mind replayed how you had been washed when you were taken and it was so surreal that you swore your skin ached as it recalled how strong the water hose had been and how it had been so cold that there might as well have been spikes of ice in that water that sliced you. You never even fully dried in the damp room before it happened again. Sixteen. “Four…thirty,” you muttered as you hugged your knees and fought back the memories that flooded past your barricades. “Nine,” you continued in search of something to ground yourself to.

“Y/n?” Wanda noticed your trembles grow as you blocked out the world around you and incidentally kept everything you were trying to escape in. Trapped with them. Again.

“Sixteen…four,” you repeated over and over like a charm to ward off evil but you just weren’t strong enough on your own.

“Honey, breathe,” Wanda coaxed but you couldn’t hear her or your girlfriend as she crouched by your sides and tried to take a hold of your shaking hands.

“Nine,” you muttered for the last time when suddenly it was all gone and you were back in the room with the two women who noticed the change immediately.

“Malysh?” Natasha was the first to speak.

“Hey,” you greeted with a sleepy smile.

“What’s going on?” She asked, trying to appear far more calm than she was.

“Don’t know,” you admitted with a frown.

“How do you feel?” Wanda added.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted with an uncomfortable uncertainty, feeling that brief stillness become disturbed.

“Maybe you should jump in the shower to wake yourself up a bit,” Natasha suggested. You paused, trying to place your finger on why that suggestion didn’t feel right but when you couldn’t identify any legitimate reason not to, you agreed, missing the look exchanged between the pair as you got up and trudged through the apartment to the bathroom.

“I’ve got it,” you dismissed when you noticed Natasha trying to join you. She nodded respectfully as you closed the door, then peered back into the bedroom where Wanda remained as puzzled as she was.

“What the hell was that? I’ve seen her have panic attacks before but that was different,” Natasha stated as the pair began stripping the bed as swiftly as they could.

“I don’t know,” Wanda muttered, stuck with the image of your distress.

“Wands, can’t you do something?” Natasha asked not for the first time.

“You know it’s not ethical.”

“But letting her suffer is? She needs meds but without going to the doctor she won’t get them,” Natasha pointed out though that very fact had been on Wanda’s mind for the past few days. She had considered trying to use her powers on your mind to relieve some of the tension your memories placed on it, but she had never done anything like that before and it wasn’t the time to try.

“She responds more to you than she has to me ever since she came home,” the widow voiced with a jealousy she knew she had no right to express, but it hurt to see that your friend was somehow doing more for you than she was.

“Maybe I just got to her on a better day,” Wanda shrugged in an effort to appease the redhead. She wasn’t convinced, yet Wanda had no other answer to offer.

Meanwhile, you let the water run through the shower and stared at it with great apprehension. You didn’t make a move to take your clothes off, unable to determine why you felt so uncertain to step under the water. Hesitantly, you took your clothes off one by one as the steam began to fill the room and stuck your hand under the water once you were ready, only to withdraw it with a sharp hiss. You turned the temperature down, waited several moments, and tried again. Better. A lot better once you were under the shower entirely. You dipped your head and allowed yourself some time to let the warm water cleanse your body tenderly then got to work with the soap.

“I’ve got you some clothes,” Natasha called from behind the door once you turned the water off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you opened the door several inches and took the clothes with a muttered ‘thanks’ that your girlfriend almost missed. You dressed swiftly and when you were done you stepped out to see that the bed had been made up with fresh sheets and there was a hearty smell of a home cooked meal filling the apartment. You immediately recognised it to be one of Wanda’s Sokovian dishes that she always enjoyed cooking for the team and must have made extra to bring back for you and Nat.

“Hungry?” She asked when she noticed you eyeing up the dish she was reheating the meal in.

“A little,” you admitted. Even with the enticing smells that greeted you, you didn’t have much of an appetite. “Aren't you meant to have this one with red wine?” Natasha’s eyes snapped to you and Wanda paused briefly. You looked between the two and rolled your eyes, knowing what they were thinking but walking over to the cupboard to retrieve the bottle anyway.

“Not necessarily,” Wanda said a moment too late. Your mind was made up and after two weeks hiding out in bed, you just wanted to feel like you were having a normal meal with your friends.

“But preferably,” you countered as you placed the three glasses and bottle on the coffee table, entirely aware of the look the pair exchanged when your back was turned.

“Maybe we should save it for another night,” Natasha suggested.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you insisted as you poured yourself a glass and wished they would both stop looking at you like that. Regrettably, the pair gave in as they plated up the three dishes and brought them over to eat in front of the tv. You remained in the armchair, as you always did, and although Natasha would have much preferred to feel you curl up with her, having Wanda accompany her on the lonesome sofa was a nice change.

The two avengers barely touched their drinks though your glass was empty by the time you decided you were done forcing yourself to eat more than you could stomach. After the faint buzz hit you, you wanted to polish off their glasses for them, but you knew that in doing so you would be trying your luck with the pair. You were playing a dangerous game as it was, but for the rest of the evening, neither of them mentioned it.

Wanda went home not long after you all finished clearing away and you wondered how long you could leave it before retiring to bed yourself and whether or not to let Natasha know she was welcome to join you. For sleep only. You hadn’t let her touch you since the hospital, shying away from all physical contact despite the way it made your girlfriend wince. You knew that your slow progress was hurting her because she felt responsible, but you still couldn’t snap yourself out of the trance that made anything comfortable feel painful. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around it yourself, especially as every time you tried it sent you into a spiral that ended with you struggling for air.

“I think I’m gonna watch some tv in bed for a bit,” you told Natasha. She looked up at you with an understanding smile. God, she’s too good to me. When will she realise that?

“Okay.” You lingered in the doorway.

“Wanna join?” You asked as you picked at the wood in the frame and noticed your girlfriend’s features brighten.

“Yeah, I’ll be in soon,” she told you with a beam as she finished up the work she had only just begun on her laptop. All for you, of course.

By the time Natasha joined you, you were in bed but still scrolling through the shows and films offered to you and ended up letting the redhead decide on something. “You did good today,” she told you once the show started playing.

“Thanks,” you muttered, unsure what else you could say.

“If you want to go out tomorrow, I’d be happy to go with you,” she continued. “Even just for a small walk.” You nodded, but the unease you felt told you that wouldn’t be happening. “If you want to,” she added, probably noticing your hesitation. You should have taken her up on the offer and you did miss being outside, but the mere thought of stepping out of the safety of your apartment made you feel sick. There was no telling what awaited you and there was no guarantee that Natasha could prevent it.

“Are you missing anything important at work?” You queried, though the change in subject wasn’t lost on Natasha.

“There’s a few other Avengers and an entire organisation that are filling in for me,” she quipped off handedly. You hummed.

“But you’re a workaholic,” you pointed out not for the first time since you started dating the redhead. “I feel bad that I’m keeping you here.”

“You’re not,” she was quick to input, even though you both knew that was a lie.

“Okay, let’s say I’m not. Shouldn’t I be trying to like…do things on my own?” You asked. Natasha paused and wondered if you were trying to push her further out of your space. It wasn’t, not consciously, and she seemed to buy that when you glanced her way.

“Maybe I could go in for a few hours tomorrow,” she tested for your reaction. “I’ll keep my phone on.”

“Okay,” you half smiled and settled into the bed more with a strong sense of apprehension as to whether or not you had made the right choice in trying to get Natasha out of the apartment for a few hours.

You didn’t sleep much that night and you knew that Natasha didn’t either. There was an anxious hum that charged above your bed as you both thought about what your days would entail without one another. Natasha would be thinking of you constantly and it didn’t help that you had recently developed the habit of ignoring your texts. You, on the other hand, realised that you weren’t going to be entirely sure of what to do with your privacy, but you did want it. Natasha clearly wasn’t as keen because the next morning she must have assured you five times that her phone would be on and that you could call whenever you needed her, or anyone else. It was the first time you had ever watched her leave later than planned.

You admired the stillness of the apartment for a while. The busy hum of the city on the other side of those walls continued to emanate through, but the apartment itself was entirely void of the frantic energy it had been consumed in for the last few weeks. It was finally just you. You enjoyed that fact for the first half an hour, wandering freely through the space and relishing in your own company, until your mind had enough of the rare peace and insisted you return to panic.

Suddenly, you vividly recalled what it had been like the last time you were entirely alone. You unwillingly thought back on the gas that had been expelled into the black box you were contained in and how soon the chemicals had dug their way into your conscience to twist it in the most unnatural fashion. You remembered how it had fried all logic and precisely compromised every one of your senses that still felt surreal. You recollected the feeble attempts you made to cling onto what you knew to be real but that it proved impossible when the enemy you were losing to was yourself.

Sixteen. Four. Thirty. Nine.

Your head was spinning wildly as you stumbled into the kitchen. Your memories forced themselves so far to the front of your brain that you weren’t even sure of what you were doing when you swiped at one of the cupboards and accidentally threw it open. The sunlight streaming into the apartment caught onto the bottles and without a moment’s consideration, you grabbed the nearest one and took a sip. Then another. Then another as you dropped to the floor and begged for the alcohol to tackle your thoughts for you. You couldn’t do it alone.

More sips until eventually a light fog began to blur the images behind your eyes. It still wasn’t enough so you continued until the fog grew heavier and the images were finally obstructed. It wasn’t a victory by any means. It was simply a rest. The best one you had had since you were left outside the hospital.

You glanced down at the light bottle and realised with a drop that it was empty. Natasha would surely notice a missing bottle given that you didn’t keep many so you quickly took out your phone, ignoring the various messages, and ordered another one for you to swap out. It was only once you paid an additional fee for it to be delivered within the next ten minutes did you realise that you were going to have to leave the apartment to retrieve it downstairs. It was a daunting thought, but you were all too aware that it seemed far more manageable with the liquid courage in your system.

Fortunately, it didn’t take more than five minutes for you to descend the five flights of stairs, bin the bottle, retrieve the new one and scale back up to your apartment. Though your heart had been pounding the entire time, you felt good that you had managed to pull it off successfully and in the midst of the relief, you hadn’t even taken a moment to consider that the stress of what you had done was because it wasn’t right. All of that was to avoid your girlfriend finding out that you had been drinking, yet you never gave a second thought to it when your head felt lighter on your shoulders than you could recall it being in a while.

You emptied part of the bottle and placed it back where the previous one was with a sense of satisfaction before sitting in the armchair for your last hour of peace. With the slight intoxication, it went by faster than you anticipated. Maybe it was also down to the alcohol, but when Natasha stepped through the doorway and set her eyes on you, her expression was unreadable.

“Hi,” you greeted with some uncertainty.

“Hey,” she muttered back as she took her jacket off. You couldn’t help but think back on how you used to greet each other when you got home. A tight hug, a small kiss that usually led to more, conversation, smiles, laughter. Love. You felt your gut twist uncomfortably as Natasha trudged through the apartment to the kitchen without looking at you. It seemed as though the moment you had been awaiting was growing closer. Natasha had enough. You had to give her credit for dealing with you as long as she did. That should have been your cue to stop her and start to put things right, but you couldn’t do that to her, you couldn’t get her to carry the dead weight much longer. It wasn’t fair.

“How’ve you been?” She asked from the kitchen.

“Okay,” you answered, pulling at a thread in the armchair. “How was work?” It was a small domestic attempt Natasha took no notice of.

“I texted you,” she told you instead. “Called a few times too.”

“My phone’s on silent.”

“Then what’s the point in having it?” She asked, her voice full of unspoken accusations without realising how right she was.

To order booze behind your back. You didn’t answer and Natasha didn’t follow up.

You didn’t say another word to one another that night and the tension that filled the apartment was almost suffocating. The alcohol in your system wore off far too quickly for your liking and made the evening considerably tougher. You considered, countless times, going to your girlfriend to explain yourself to her. But how could you? How could you tell her that you had seen her, and many many others, in that basement where you were kept? How could you tell her that you had lived out your darkest nightmares and that she had been right there inflicting them? How could you tell your girlfriend that even though you knew none of it was real, you were scared of her? You never did and as the days blurred into weeks, the tension in your apartment reached its long awaited breaking point.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you started to depend on the drinks. You never let yourself think about it long enough to conclude that what you were doing was wrong, not when the result of it was the only respite you ever got from your mind. You could never drink Natasha’s surveillance, but it didn’t prove to be a problem when your girlfriend fell into her own harmful habit of spending most of her time and work. She didn’t want to be around you.

You stopped forgetting about what happened once you were reacquainted with the entire collection of memories of what happened. There were no brief moments where you couldn’t recall your torment ever happening, leaving your only respite to be alcohol. You didn’t intend to depend on it, but you did.

Natasha never noticed. On the days where you had too much, you simply put yourself to bed after brushing the taste and smell of alcohol away and it was too easy for Natasha to perceive it as ‘one of those days’. You rarely spoke to each other. You rarely looked at each other. You both allowed for your love to be buried on the rubble of the ruins you created, still alive and too stubborn to let go but lost from view.

One night, you let yourself get too carried away. You were slumped against the cupboards on the kitchen floor as you tried to make sense of the spinning apartment when Natasha came home. She froze at the sight of you clutching her vodka bottle that you always claimed to hate the taste of. You had grown numb to it recently.

Your girlfriend stepped towards you cautiously and crouched down as you registered her presence with the same far away look in your eyes she had seen in the hospital. She thought about it every day. “Y/n?” She asked as she gently grabbed the bottle but you yanked it out of her grasp and back towards your chest. “Don’t do that,” she muttered, heart cracking as she took in your unkempt appearance. How had she let you get like this? You grumbled incoherently in response.

“Come on, you need to throw up,” she coaxed, trying to keep her voice steady as she placed a hand on your arm but you shrugged her off. “Why won’t you let me help you?” She sighed, not expecting a response.

“Why do you want to?” You bite, eyes holding a harshness Natasha had never seen in you.

“Because I care about you, y/n,” she tried. “I love you and I want you to come back to me,” the redhead admitted with a crushing desperation. You loved her too, so much, but you were drunk and you were pissed off at the world.

“Is that it? Really?” You interrogated with an obnoxious slur to your speech. “It’s not because of any guilt you might be feeling?” Natasha frowned and backed away slightly as she stared down at you. “Tell me honestly.”

“I wish I had been there-” She tried, no stranger to the guilt you were inflicting.

“Why would that have mattered? They would have just seen you and tried again another time,” you told her as you grabbed at the kitchen counter behind you and hauled yourself up onto unstable feet. Natasha immediately sprang to catch you as you toppled.

“Y/n-”

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed as you gripped the counter with a steel force and glared at the woman desperately trying to help you. “I can’t look at you without seeing them.” You muttered though the words were etched into Natasha. She unknowingly held her breath as she processed what you had just said and realised she had finally gotten her answer as to why you were so distant. “Leave,” you spat.

“What?” The redhead felt her legs become numb.

“I can’t do this. I can’t continue to be a target,” you told her as your fear creeped into your drunken resentment and it all came to the surface unceremoniously.

“What do you mean?” She whispered despite already knowing.

“It’s your fault. They took me to get to you and you didn’t even come and save me,” you told her, tears streaming down your face that your girlfriend so desperately wanted to wipe away as she held you.

“I tried, I tried so hard,” Natasha told you as her voice shook as much as her hands that she fought to keep by her sides. “I did everything I could and-”

“And in the end they just gave me back. What if the next ones don’t feel so generous?” You questioned, unrelenting in your pain you were pushing onto your partner in an effort to escape it yourself.

“We’ll figure something out, I’ll teach you self defence,” she tried but you didn’t want to hear it.

“I thought I was going to die…and I wish I did.” Natasha stared at you through the blur of tears, knowing that you were drunk but that it didn't mean you didn’t mean it. In fact, it made undeniable sense. “I would rather be laying dead in that room right now than have endured a second of what they did.” You told her honestly. “So get out.”

“Y/n-” The attempt was futile.

“Get out!” You broke, unable to handle any more. There was no going back on what you had said and there was no undoing the past. You were done and too exhausted to see it any other way.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered as she stepped away in defeat. You wouldn’t listen to reason, not from her.

“Sorry doesn’t fix what you’ve done.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #natasha x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff comfort #gxg marvel #natasha romanoff imagines

637 notes · View notes

shotmrmiller · 3 months

Note

WHAT YOU WROTE WAS AMAZING PLS IM SOBBING I LOVE IT SO MUCH GIVING U SMOOCHES

but okay so you sleep by yourself that night he comes home. you know he goes out with the boys — mostly on the weekends but sometimes the weekdays too — so when he comes home just a bit later than usual it doesn’t ring any alarm bells even if you pout a little. and you damn near run into his arms and snuggle into his neck only to smell — not him. something, someone else has touched what you thought was yours.

you pull back from the hug to look him over further. clothes mussed up, lips looking like they were bitten, a little flushed. a little like when you two —

you swallow thickly, throat lining with glass and tears as you suck in a breath. you find that you can’t actually form words for a moment, worried that only bile and venom would come out.

“did you fuck someone?”

he looks panicked — guilty — and you don’t even need him to say it for you to know what he’s done.

“who?” you ask, voice barely there, only able to be heard over the icy silence that followed your question. he replies one of the other pets. you nod, more to yourself than anything, trying not to scream your heart out at him.

but your heart cracks the moment he opens his mouth.

for the first time since you began living with him, you slept alone.

(you did scream at him. tripping over your words and panicked breaths and streams of tears. how could he do this. he didn’t call, didn’t ask. did he even think to? did he even care?)

you’re exhausted. too tired crying like you’ve never cried before, feeling like the weight of betrayal is crushing you as you sleep.

you almost fear that it’ll kill you.

the next day — friday — he knocks on your door before he goes to work. he tells you to have a good day. you don’t acknowledge him.

but you miss him. you absolutely fucking hate him but you miss him so much, it hurts. that particular ache is almost worse than the one of betrayal.

almost.

by mid day, you figure you should give him a chance to talk. he obviously feels guilty, and you love him. despite everything, you love him.

so you clean yourself up and try to look a little pretty for him, wearing a cute slip lingerie dress and bows on your ears.

you clean up around the flat a little. you fold his clothes — he’s been grumbling about it lately and always say he’d do it later. so you do it for him, folded with precision and left to sit on the edge of the bed.

you’re still upset and anxious and everything in between. the nerves make it hard to feel anything and you feel too sick to eat. but you nibble on some bread, knowing he wouldn’t want you to neglect yourself. you love him.

when it starts getting later, you decide to make him his favorite cookies. it’s been awhile since you’ve made him anything, and you’ve always enjoyed making these for him. the sweetest kisses tend to follow.

the night rolls around to the point where you know he’s off work. it’ll take him a little to get home, so you settle on the couch and wait.

but as the hours tick by, later and later, the worry grows and gnaws and threatens to split you from the inside out.

maybe he’s out with the boys again? you’d think, given the circumstances, he’d want to come home to you. but old habits die hard, you suppose.

but it gets later. and later.

later than he ever would be out even when things were perfect between you two.

it shatters you. where was he? what was he doing? was he —

the thought makes you sick.

he comes home after midnight. after you wretched in the toilet and cried yourself to sleep — again.

didn’t he love you too?

he sees the cookies put away in a container and a pit grows in his stomach, a void ready to eat his heart. whatever is left of it, anyways.

there’s a note sitting on the top.

“sleep well.”

the writing was shaky and it looks like a few tears spilled onto the words as you wrote them.

your usual xoxo at the bottom was crossed out.

you beat me to it:)

you bloody beat me to it. Fool me once.

your eyes are blank as if the life had all but faded from them, and in a way, they had.

Sitting him down, you calmly, (calmly, because there is nothing in you left other than acceptance, and youll be damned before you ever beg a man to want you) say, "I'll be leaving in the morning."

He tries to say something but nothing he could ever say will fix what he chose to break. "No, the fact that i'm even bothering to tell you is a courtesy you don't deserve. You've made your bed, now continue to lie in it with whoever you keep seeing after work." Smoothly, you get up and walk towards your room.

There is no rancor in your heart for whoever it is he's been with. After all, the one in the relationship with you was him.

You stuff a towel under the door, covering the gap, and clutch your collar to your chest, letting the last tears youll ever cry over him track down your cheeks. He doesn't deserve to see nor hear your pain.

You call an uber while he's at work and disappear.

When he comes back home, the place is dark and empty. He sits at the dinner table alone, with two fingers of whiskey in front of him, and in his hand is the last note you left him, stiff with dried tears and an xoxo at the very bottom.

What makes him crumble is when he sees the glint of your personalized collar on his nightstand, and it finally hits him that you're gone. For good.

listening to eurielle while writing epic sad is just chefs kiss.

#i am LIVING for this angst i stg #my anons are incredible #better than me in every way shape and form #task force 141

423 notes · View notes

fariesoiree · 5 months

Text

to hobie’s surprise, you’re still working into the late hours of the night. no way he’s gonna let that happen multiple nights in a row.

caution! mdni 3k wrdz, pet names, oral f. receiving fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, black fem reader, overstimulation, use of cunny cunt n pussy, back scratching, squirting, creampies pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

when hobie swung into your open window, he wasn’t expecting to see you awake and actually doing stuff.

his head tilts at the sight of you typing away at your laptop, swivel chair turning in endless semicircles. you’re dressed for bed, wearing a silk nightgown and your slippers astray beneath you. even your hair is tucked away from the night under the safety of your bonnet. “why are you up, ducky?” he climbs his way through the window purposely left open for him.

it’s become a part of your routine. you both live your lives during the day and at night, hobie comes by to climb into bed beside you. you spend the morning together, just for him to leave and do the same the next day. as long as neither of you acknowledge it, he doesn’t count it as a consistent schedule and therefore doesn’t feel the need to stop.

you don’t lift your head to acknowledge him like you routinely do. instead, your manicured hands dart across the keyboard. “got home from work late, got an essay to write. it’s due tomorrow night.”

“what?” his shadow grows nearer with each step he takes towards you. hobie knows you’re too far gone when you don’t reprimand him from sitting on your desk. “it’s almost four in the morning, lovely. you can’t do it tomorrow?”

“no,” there’s a pause between your words and the silence is filled with your incessant typing, “i picked up a shift at work so i can’t.”

“you’re becoming a cog in the capitalism machine. that’s why you’re so stressed out. you should to take a break before they make you a mindless slave. that’s what they want, y’know. for more people to – ”

you tilt your back, a sigh leaving your lips. your eyes close with the attempt to find what dwindling patience you have. “hobie, i really cannot do it tonight. i have an essay to write and it’s due tomorrow. i just told you that.”

he stares at you, only for a moment. there’s a lot of things he isn’t enjoying about this. the fact that you’re still awake, the fact that you’re stressing over something put in place to make you feel bad about yourself, and the fact that you’re snapping at him. he’s sure it’s due to your lack of sleep but that doesn’t make him feel any better about it. “you’re in a shitty mood and it’s starting to bother me.”

“wow, really?” you can’t help your sarcastic tone. it slips out before you’re aware of it. “i didn’t even realize i wasn’t feeling super good!” your eyes are rolling as you place the laptop on what desk space is left from his limber body. you regret it the moment you say it but you’re so deeply set in your ways that the second thought doesn’t linger long.

he’s silent again, fingers tapping against the desktop. he stares at the floor, outlining the wood detailing with his eyes.

you both stay like this for a while, typing and staring at the floor. you can’t deny his company aiding your stress relief. it’s always nice to have hobie around, even if he isn’t doing anything.

ten minutes pass before hobie is glancing at the clock. “alright,” he finally says while rising to his feet. “time for bed, love.” he turns your chair himself, dragging you away from your nearly completed essay.

“what are you doing? i have work to do.” you struggle against him, tugging your arms but to no avail. he’s just so much more stronger than you, pulling you to your feet and into his arms. “hobie,” you whine as he gathers you up and into the air with his super human abilities.

“oh, i heard you,” hobie says, closing your screen and turning off your desk lamp. the room immediately gets dark. the lamp functioned as the sole light in these hours. having it off sent your space in a blanket of nothingness. “i just don’t care. you’re tired and your attitude is shit.”

you can never get over how easily he overpowers you, despite his tiny frame. while hobie is large in height, he’s the lankiest thing. his strength solely came from his radioactive spider.

you huff, throwing your weight around. all it does is get you tossed onto the bed. because your eyes have yet to adjust to the lighting, you’re unable to see a thing. you can’t help but shriek upon impact, bouncing on your mattress. “what the hell, ‘bie? my attitude is shit? your attitude is shit. mad at me because i’m not giving you attention because i have stuff to do. of course i’m tired. i’ve been up all night because i actually have responsibilities.”

“stop fightin’ with me.” hobie worms his way next to your body. his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “and while you’re at it, stop talkin’ and go to sleep.”

you’re still mumbling your distaste against his skin, arms pushing against him. you’re refusing to go down like this, to let him simply take you away from the essay you’ve been working so hard on. you’re so close to finishing, you can taste it. “isn’t this against what you stand for? thought it’s wrong to force someone to do something.”

he only holds you tighter, strapping your arms down in his grip. “you’re not takin’ care of yourself, princess. didn’t sleep last night, didn’t sleep the night before. think i’m gonna let you not sleep again? especially since you’re talkin’ to me like you’ve lost your mind.”

“i’m not! i didn’t say anything to you. if your feelings are hurt that’s your fault.” you resorting to using your feet, kicking at him until he’s forced to tangle his legs with yours.

“you’re always sayin’ the same thing when i call you out on somethin’. ‘i didn’t do it’. ‘it’s your fault’. ‘i’m not sorry’.” hobie’s voice raises a few octaves to mock yours. “it’s not rocket science. just admit it and let me help you.”

your cheeks puff in irritation. his route isn’t helping your mood and knowing unfinished work is just arms length away is making you antsy. “unless you’re gonna get up and do it for me, which you won’t, you can’t help me.”

with your next blink, you find yourself on your back. the bed dips and rises as hobie adjusts his position, arms locking around your legs and hands resting on your stomach. “what the actual fuck are you doing?” you sit up and as a result, slide out of his grasp just a bit.

hobie just yanks you back down and tightens his hold, leaving you no choice but to remain at his mercy. “helpin’ you. if you don’t wanna go to sleep, fine. i’ll just make sure you can’t do nothin’ else.”

he rolls the hem of your gown up, despite your protests above him. you wiggle about but it has no effect on his focus. he’s too busy staring at the pretty cotton panties you sport. “you need to relax, treacle. gonna spread yourself thin.”

you blow out a breath, somewhat mixed with frustration and defeat. you know he’s right but your mind is already racing with everything you have to complete this week, including going to work and making school deadlines. “that’s reality, ‘bie. that’s how it is. i’m not a crime fighting, rioting spider person with no cares for anything. i actually have to be a cog in the machine or whatever you said.”

his lips ghost and press against your skin, littering soft kisses along your inner thigh. “so? don’t gotta let them use you like this.”

“hobie.”

he hooks his finger around the bottom, pulling the white material to the side. “jus’ worried about you is all, dovey. shouldn’t even be awake, much less doing somethin’ right now.”

he tenderly kneads the stress away at your hip while his thumb coaxes you into submission, drawing slow circles on your clit. he leans his head against your skin, looking through his eyelashes to watch you.

you, who’s struggling to give off an unaffected impression, eyes closed and knees bending. “get off. you’re annoying me.” your slight grip on your sheets tell him otherwise.

“mhm,” hobie hums. his gaze is trained on you and you only while he warms your sex up to his touch. “you gonna go to sleep if i do?”

your silence is a loud enough response for him. he turns back to your now glistening cunt. his thumb glides over it with ease, collecting your slick and redistributing it along your folds.

he doesn’t understand you and your need to fight against him. hobie really is just trying to take care of you and you’re insisting on ignoring him and rotting your soul away. as if he is going to stand by and let that happen.

you keen at the feeling of his tongue running over your cunny, flat and thick. a soft pant falls out your lips, just barely open. your fingers curl into your palm. there’s a part of you that doesn’t want him to know, yet, how quickly he’s consuming your thoughts so you force you spine into the mattress and hold your arms against yourself.

you clench your teeth together and mute the moans that crawl their way up your throat as hobie drags his tongue around. his lips wrap around your bundle of nerves, suckling off the juices. his lips piercings aren’t helping, slotting against your skin and sending you into overdrive.

he glances at you for a second, only when you give in and entangle your hand in his hair. the tug that follows only pulls him closer. he has to pull your thighs apart when they threaten to close around his head. any other day, he’d stare at you with a warning slap to your pussy but tonight, he lets it slide in hopes you’ll tire yourself out.

hobie can tell your close when your writhe in his hold, both to get away from and get closer to his tongue. he’s easing you into it with a hand reaching up to clasp yours and another at the soft skin of your tummy, forcing your back out the arch. he massages your skin in encouragement at your orgasm that comes ripping through your body.

hobie, although unhappily, has to leave your pretty pussy behind. you’re pulling his hair so hard, he’s forced to resurface until he’s eye level. “feel better?” he positions himself next to you on his side. he’s sweet, draping his arm around your waist.

as he expected, you nod and curl into his chest. you can’t deny that much of the stress you felt before dissipated. hobie’s warmth is soothing, enticing you to revel in your sheets. you’re grateful when he pulls the duvet over your bodies.

his head is in the groove between your neck and shoulder, peppering kisses along your skin. “that’s good to hear, duck.” his fingers run up and down your back, just grazing and dipping farther and farther down. “still thinkin’ about all’at stuff?”

“yeah but i can just do it tomorrow. it’s not like i have a lot left because i already did most of – hobie!”

you shriek when his fingers suddenly become nestled inside you. you grip his shirt, hiding within his chest. you shudder at the feeling of them move, stroking against your cunt.

“you’re still thinkin’ about it.” he chastises with a click of his tongue. he holds you in place to control your twitching, continuing to peg his digits into you. “wrong answer.”

“i’m not,” you whine. you can both feel your gummy walls tighten and twitch, sucking him in despite you campaigning to get away from him.

“you’re not?” hobie cradles you against him, gentle in touch. “could have sworn you just said it, though.”

you whimper and mewl, torn between enjoyment and overstimulation. his fingers are larger than you can comprehend, digging dip within your core, and much longer than yours, pressing farther than you could ever do yourself.

you’re reduced to sobs, nearly shredding his shirt into two with how much you’re pulling it apart. the popping of the seams is drowned by your voice and the squelching of your slick against his hand.

his arm against your back leaves you little room to struggle with his fingers prodding from behind. at some point your leg slips around his waist.

“it’s okay, pretty. i got you, yeah?” hobie feels hot, physically hot. the duvet wasn’t helping, trapping your body heat that increased with each movement. he also can’t help his massive boner, having to fight the urge to rut against you.

hobie knows this is about you, or rather that he’s making it about you. about helping his baby get to sleep. this isn’t the first time he’s came back and seen you up at the late hours of the night. the first few times, he let it go but the longer this continues, the more messed up your sleep schedule is going to be. he has to interfere, especially when you’ve been waking up in a terrible mood each morning, a frown already settled on your lips before you’ve even gotten out of bed.

he’s so deep in his thoughts, hobie nearly misses how desperate you suddenly get. it’s only when you’re reaching behind to grasp his wrist that his brain fog is gone.

he didn’t realize, either, how much faster he’s moving, fingers bumping against your spot. “dove,” hobie says it softly, “i don’t want to use my webs on you. move em’ before i do.”

you’re reluctant but obliged, unwrapping your fingers from his wrist and hanging them over his shoulder. you find yourself plunging your nails into his skin. “hobie,” you cry out, hips grinding against him.

“i know, pretty. i know,” he whispers against your forehead. “let it out. i got you.” hobie consoles you as your body tenses in his hold.

you’re all wound up, taking a final gasp as it all rolls off your skin. he draws gushes of your cum out your leaking hole and swallows your sobs in his mouth, connected with a kiss. you’re grateful for his comfort, clinging onto him as if he is your saving grace

your chest rises and falls with each breath and you shove his hand away. “no more,” you roll away from him, simultaneously pulling off the covers for some much needed cool air.

it’s futile when hobie draws you back into him after tossing off his shirt, himself. “nah, i think you have another one left in you.” you can feel him shuffling behind you and assume he’s preparing to pull his dick out.

you tightly cross your legs together at his words, eyes darting around for a clock. “what? it’s so late, though. i have so much to do tomorrow, too. we should just sleep.”

your rational fall on deaf ears because he’s easily lifting your leg into the air and almost to your shoulders. “oh? you have a lot to do tomorrow?”

his tone has your stomach twisting. you wet your lips, feeling around for something to hold on to. “n – no. i don’t. i’m not doing anything tomorrow.”

the fat tip of his cock slaps against your folds, sticky from his own arousal. “too late, lovely. you already said it. gotta fuck it out of you.”

you’re still pleading your disagreement and how you’ll start sleeping at a proper time when hobie stuffs his cockhead inside your cunny.

he groans in your ear upon your welcoming wet grip. you always feel so good, at this point he’s addicted. if he ever died in your cunt, hobie would be the happiest man in the world.

thanks to the previous orgasms, there’s no pushback. only you griping about how you can’t take it and that he’s too big, which hobie knows is a lie. truthfully, you go through the same thing every time and he can never get enough of it.

“tired yet?” he grunts in tune with his rapid, steady paced thrusts. hobie doesn’t expect anything past your incoherent gargles.

you clutch the mattress under your pillow, prying at the fitted sheet. with every thrust, your body lurches forward. your head turns on your own accord, reaching out to cup his cheek.

you’re so cute, he thinks, with your eyes big and round and full of enchantment. you heave him towards you until your lips are moving together in perfect synchrony.

hobie wraps his tongue around yours, sitting up to deepen in. with his neck craned down and your dress pulled up, he gets a perfect view of his dick sliding in and out.

it glistens, even if the limited moonlight. the base is especially glazed over, foaming with a white sheen.

he feels like he’s becoming deranged when you toss your head back in ecstasy. you’re going to kill him, he’s sure.

and he’s even more sure when your tiny fist is rapping against the bed. “oh my days, oh my – fuck!” you outstretch your arm until you find his, grabbing in a firm hold.

hobie plants his head on top of yours and inhales the whiffs of hair products from your bonnet. he can smell the lingering hints of rosemary from your oil. “no more staying up late, you hear? pissin’ me off with this.”

and like the best girl you are, you nod brainlessly. your wordless promise is taken seriously, you’re sure. it’s cemented when hobie forces you to look at him.

his eye contact is just as intense as the grip on your cheeks. you can see just how vehement he is and it only makes you needier.

your face screws up as one final indication before your entire body trembles. you fall limp onto your side, cunt spasming around him. you’ve been fucked into oblivion, ready to settle in for the night. to your surprise, hobie has other plans.

his pulling out has you thinking he’s done, only to roll you into your back and position himself on top of you. he doesn’t wait for you realize what’s happening before he’s aligning his tip with your entrance again and gliding it in with ease.

you feel full to the brim, one hand on his chest and the other scraping your nails against the headboard. at some point, he supposes his own lust kicked in. after putting your needs first, he’s given free reign to chase his own orgasm.

that’s exactly what he’s doing now, pounding into you with such speed, your tits have been jostled out your top. the brown of your nipples has his infatuated brain screaming.

“hobie!” you all but yell. you’re inching slowly towards the top of the bed, unaware of your movements. hobie isn’t, though. he finds purchase at your hips to shift you back into place.

“hold – hold on. jus’ wait.” he moves both your legs over his left shoulder, driving deep.

you swear you can feel him in your throat, swear he’s realigning your insides like some sort of chiropractor. “gonna – ” your eyes roll to the back of your head. your nails dig into his back and drag across the skin as you try to ground yourself.

immediately, his attention fall to your cunt. hobie expects to see the usual sparkling ooze of cum but to his marvelment, watery squirts take it’s place.

you seize up so tight on him, he’s forced to release inside you without warning. he has to remember to hold himself up as to not crush you beneath him. all he can think about is how that was probably the best nut he’s ever had.

“you . . . you wanna finish your paper?” hobie says finally. he’s the first one to speak as you were both trying to catch your breath from your late night exercise.

you so quickly scowl at him, both at the implications and the thought of doing anything else tonight. “you must not value your life. you can’t.”

hobie smiles, lazily. he kneads at your muscles. “bear with me, treacle. ‘s gonna be uncomfortable.” he warns, anticipating the wince your expression turns into as he pulls out, genuinely this time.

you can feel the scratches developing from your previous actions, rubbing his shoulders, and a tinge of guilt tugs at your heart. “sorry. for these and all the worry i caused you . . . and also for what i said.” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close until you’re both laying down, cuddling up on each other. although you can’t quite remember what you said, you know you would have never uttered the words on a normal day.

he shrugs, fixing your slipping bonnet and unbunching your nightgown. “it’s in the past. i’m not thinkin’ about that, right now. i’m thinkin’ about how we need to get you ready for bed, again. can’t go to bed like this.”

he’s right but you’re still dramatic about in, unwilling to leave the comfort of your bed. “ten minutes.” you say, eyes fluttering closed. you revel in your sheets as long as you can before hobie chuckles, ripping them off.

“no, can’t do that. we’re doin’ it now. we both have to shower and shit and you probably can’t stand without me,” his voice is lighthearted, if not evident by the smirk playing in his lips.

he’s carrying you again, subjecting you to the princess treatment he feels you deserve. the most funny part about this, to him, is how dedicated you were before to staying up all night.

now, you’re all pliant and it’s purely due to him and his cock. even though hobie made you promise these endless nights won’t continue, he definitely doesn’t mind doing this again. especially after how easily you finally knock out, mouth wide open and snoring.

#✮🕷✮⋆˙#hobie smut #hobie x black!reader #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #hobie x reader #x black reader #x reader #hobie x y/n

485 notes · View notes