Dark!natasha Romanoff - Blog Posts

AU where R discovers that her lover Natasha isn't actually a secret agent, but a very prolific serial killer.

Aren't We All Sinners

Pairing: soft!dark Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: violence, deaths, use of good girl, infidelity, Nat is soft!dark and a serial killer—it would be as you expect. soft!dark warrants 18+ but there is no explicit sexual or extreme gore/violent content.

Note: Damn—not you sending a really good prompt in and making me write more than a drabble for this LMAO I really enjoyed this one!

Count: ~2.1K

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Natasha Romanoff lives a quiet life in the suburbs.

She's the nice neighbor who gets along with everyone in the community, the one who helps you if she sees you struggling to carry all your groceries in. She says hi to new residents and offers refreshments for her delivery workers.

Everyone loves Natasha Romanoff, who's kind, charming, and soft-spoken.

Even you.

Especially you.

How could you not love her?

She's your friend, your confidant, your safety, your lover—your affair.

Natasha Romanoff was your secret.

"I'm sorry."

You apologize to her every time you see her. You can't help it. You know you're a detriment to her, maybe the most painful thing she has ever loved, but you can't stop.

"S'kay," Natasha muttered against your lips as she pulled you close, feeling the curve of your back and plumpness of your lips. "I want you no matter what."

And Natasha never fails to make you feel wanted. She dotes on you, knows when to be tender and when to be rough, and looks at you like you're the only thing in her world.

You couldn't really understand why. You were so...you. You were neither unnoteworthy nor extraordinary. Just you.

Until you discovered an odd creak in the floors in Natasha's bedroom when you moved her rug to vacuum.

Inside, you found passports and fake IDs. Some were hers. Some weren't.

"I'm in witness protection," Natasha admits with her lips pursed and sorrow in her eyes. "I used to work for the CIA when I found out my boss's boss was helping a drug lord run his cartel."

The way Natasha's shoulders tense up makes your heart hurt for her. You hesitantly place your hand over hers, tracing over the small scar over her knuckle.

Natasha takes a deep breath, turning her hand over to lace your fingers together as she gives you a small smile. "I was a whistleblower. We took down the cartel but my life is always going to be at risk. My career is essentially over."

"I'm so sorry, Nat," your lips trembled, holding her hand more tightly. You felt sympathy for the woman who had lost everything to keep people safe and had to live her life quietly now.

"There you go again," Natasha said as she pulled you into her lap, feeling the familiar curve of your body and the softness of your lips she wanted to make swollen. "Always saying sorry when it's me who wants you with no regards to anything else. You make this life bearable, you make it worth it."

Natasha bites your bottom lip before she soothes over it with her tongue. Her hand drifts up your shirt, and you tremble in her arms.

"Am I worth all the pain you're causing?" Natasha asked as her lips pressed a line against your jaw and down your neck.

You think about your wife, who's at work and blissfully unaware of your infidelity. You think about how much she loves you, and she's doing nothing wrong at all, and how she'll be so devastated if she ever found out.

It's wrong.

Being with Natasha in this way was wrong.

But when Natasha talks about if the pain was worth it, the pain you're causing to your unknowing wife and yourself, the answer is—

"Yes," you whimpered as Natasha began to unbutton your shirt, hands drifting everywhere until you're pliant. "You make it worth it."

"Good girl."

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"Hi, baby," your wife kissed your lips softly before your nose.

"Hi, Janey," you gave her a quiet smile. "Did you have a good day at work?"

"Pretty good," Jane smiled at you. "Got pretty far ahead in my research project."

"That's really good," you genuinely praised her.

Jane bit her bottom lip as she leaned her head against your shoulder, pressing her face into your neck to hide away her pleased flush.

Jane Foster was tender too, and tender in all ways. Her nature was gentle and righteous, paired with a child-like wonder for all things in the world—and you were just one of the things in it.

But you loved her for that.

And all of that tenderness was being destroyed by you without her even knowing.

It was wrong.

All of it was wrong.

Being with Natasha.

Being with Jane.

Nothing was right anymore.

It wasn't a simple matter anymore of who you were going to choose because the truth was—you deserve neither.

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There hadn't been an indication that anything was wrong. There might've never been if you hadn't had to leave the city to visit your sick grandmother. It was just a state over, and you declined both Jane's and Natasha's offer to come with you.

It was just a coincidence. A freak coincidence that the FBI would be questioning the neighborhood your grandmother lived in.

"Sorry to disturb the two of you, ma'am," a tall, burly man said as he took off his sunglasses. "We're just looking into someone and our last tip has led us to believe that our suspect was in this area."

His partner held up a photo, and you felt like your blood was freezing up. You refrain from moving your hands from the door and behind your back, as you know they'll see it trembling.

It must be an old photo.

The moment captured Natasha with short and blonde hair. You'd probably never even recognize her in the photo if it wasn't for the small scar on her knuckle you could make out in the photo.

"Have you seen anyone that looks like this?" The burly man asked.

You peered at the photo longer, pretending to analyze it deeply for them.

"No," you exhaled like you were disappointed you couldn't be of more help. "I'm sorry. I don't actually live around here and my grandmother has been too frail to leave the house for a couple of years now. I haven't seen anyone like that since I've been here, though."

"That's alright, ma'am," the burly man's partner answered as he put the photo away and gave you his business card. "Just give us a call if you do happen to see her. Don't approach her, though."

"Oh, is she dangerous?" You pinched your brow together in worry.

"Yes," he answered. "We haven't broadcasted this to the public because it would only make it easier for her to hide, even if we got help from the public."

The burly man sighed as he rubbed his temples with one hand. "She's a very prolific serial killer. We don't even have that much information about her. All we know it's possible she's killed over 40 people. She doesn't have an MO, so it's best not to approach her if you do see her because there's no telling what her type is."

"Oh, god," your voice trembled, and it wasn't even fake.

"Just keep an eye out and be safe, ma'am." The men bid you goodbye before they left.

It wasn't even a question of whether you should go back. You arranged for another family member to look after your grandmother, and you took the next flight home.

The flight delay had you returning home in the dark. The first thing you did was go home, but Jane was nowhere to be found.

You called and called, but there was no answer.

You called Darcy next, who told you that Jane just checked in with her and was still at the lab. Some kind of breakthrough and would be late.

Relief floods your system.

The rational part of you knows you should contact the police. You should've told the FBI agents the truth.

But the irrational part of you—the part that still loves Natasha, despite being terrified, needed to know why.

Why hadn't she killed you?

Why hasn't she killed anyone in this neighborhood?

Why did she find you worth not killing?

You knocked on her door, but there was no answer. No sign she might even be home. You called next, but there was no answer.

Natasha never kept a spare key around the house, inciting that no matter how good you may hide, the chances of someone finding it was never zero.

Still—she had given you a spare key.

It was just another reason you needed answers.

You quietly opened the door, stepping in. The house was dark, the only light coming from the basement.

It wasn't finished, still requiring flooring and many renovations. Natasha took you down many times to get your opinion. It wasn't like any part of the house had been forbidden to you.

You opened the door, thinking about how Natasha regularly greased the bolts to have it refrain from squeaking. She always took good care of her home.

When you reached just enough down the stairs to peer in the area, the revulsion made you stumble, nearly falling down the stairs before you caught yourself.

It smelt...metallic and something overwhelmingly wrong.

Natasha whipped around, blood over her front and hands drenched even as she wore medical gloves.

"Oh, sweetheart," Natasha cooed disappointedly at you. "You weren't supposed to be home so soon and see this. What brought you back?"

She stalks towards you, and you fall back against the step as you crawl back up it.

"I—I—The FBI..." you couldn't even finish your sentence.

You couldn't finish it as your eyes wouldn't leave the mangled body in the middle of the room. You supposed it wasn't too mangled. You could still make out her face, even if the blood from her neck was getting everywhere.

You looked over and saw her phone nearby, unlocked with her messages open.

You couldn't read it, couldn't see it clearly at all, but you knew the last person texted was Darcy.

Who texted her? You'd never know.

You watched Jane's body be impossibly still.

"Oh? FBI? They're definitely a couple of steps behind. They should've been in Washington by now. They really must be trying to comb through every little tip." Natasha hummed as she stood before you. She leaned down, resting her hand against the steps by your head as she trapped you in.

"Tell me what I should do with you, sweetheart?" Natasha asked, your body between her legs as you trembled underneath her.

"Why did you do that?" You choked. "I would've left Jane."

"Would you?" Natasha cocked her brow. "If you hadn't known what I was, would you have? Or would you have left us both?"

You were silent, and Natasha clicked her tongue.

"I know you better than you know yourself. Do you know how long I've been watching you? I followed you here all the way here as you moved from your grandmother's house." Natasha lifted one hand to stroke your cheek with the back of her finger, getting blood on you.

"So unassuming, and yet so sweet," Natasha muttered. "So scared," she looked at your shaking hands, "and still here."

Natasha's eyes are piercing in a way you've never seen before. These are the eyes that probably looked at you when you weren't even aware of her existence. These were the eyes that followed you.

"But the question is—will you remain?" Natasha asked softly. "You make it all so worth it. I was so good for you. I'm not sure if I could be without you. If you were just a little less self-sacrificing, Janey would still be alive."

It's slightly mocking, and you feel the tears well up in your eyes.

Jane was gone because of you.

"I'm scared," you admitted, unsure what else you could say. "Nothing's going to be the same..."

You shouldn't say these things. You should lie and tell Natasha that things would be like they were before as long as she stopped. You should lie and say anything to make sure you lived—escaped.

"No, it won't be," Natasha agreed. "So, tell me, sweetheart. What should I do?"

"I—I don't know," you shook your head.

Natasha sighed. "I suppose it's not fair for me to ask you what I should do with you." She spends a long minute staring at you as if deliberating.

"I'm taking you with me either way," she finally decides. "But it's up to you what you'll do with me. Be my well-kept doll or be my accomplice."

You swallowed, trying to not answer too fast. Answering too fast would seem rash.

"What would I do? As your accomplice," you ask quietly.

"I wouldn't make you kill anyone, sweetheart," Natasha reassures. "Just stay with me tonight as I take care of the mess we made." She says we like you had personally stabbed Jane. Like you tricked your wife into staying late so Natasha could grab her. "We can talk about all of it later."

"Okay," you acquiesce because there's no way you could escape Natasha. It was too late to call for help, and you were to live with the consequences of your choice.

Natasha smiled before she swooped down and kissed you firmly, getting blood everywhere as her body momentarily pressed into you.

"Good girl."

This is so good, dark but kind natasha is so sweet and you write her so well❤️

No Rest for the Wicked

Natasha x reader AU Drabble

Ghosts

You couldn’t believe the price. Not for a place like this. Not in this city.

And that alone should have sounded all the warning bells in your head. No one would sell a house like this here for that minuscule amount.

But you were so broke and so desperate and maybe it seemed too good to be true, but take the good that comes your way, right?

Everything was perfect on the walk through. You were in awe. Such a magnificent place in the middle of town.

And you did ask, at the end. Because dreamer or not, you aren’t an idiot.

“I want it.” You told the real-estate agent. “It’ll cost everything I have - everything they left me, but I have to know- why is it so cheap?”

She is pristine. Black pencil skirts and clear stockings- hair in such a tight bun it actually tightens the skin of her face. (Cool trick, you register for years later. Will have to remember that one someday.)

Anyway

She is not the type who seems to be easily frazzled but she is noticeably uncomfortable at your inquiry.

She clears her throat and fixes her already perfect hair.

“Someone died here,” she confesses. “Violently.”

Oh, that’s all? You don’t believe in ghosts.

“We’ve had 3 other buyers pull out in escrow,” she continues. “Who knows. Maybe she’ll like you.”

Yeah you’re still not buying it - the story that is- not the house- you are definitely buying the house.

“I’ll sign and give you the down payment right now,” you state with confidence.

You move in that afternoon.

And the place feels like a dream. It feels like a fresh start- a balm to your soul after all your loss.

There are some— strange occurrences. Your glasses moving from your nightstand to your bathroom sink. Drawers that you swear you never touched hanging open, your dog— really seems to hate this place.

But you chalk it up to trauma- you’ve just experienced a huge loss and of course your headspace isn’t good.

But everything else here is.

You love your house, your new job is going great, and you just started dating this person who (fingers crossed) seems good for you.

So what if your house is haunted?

You tell yourself that everyday.

Until you finally see her.

And she is… beautiful.

But so terrifying because there is not doubt in your sleepy mind when you walk into your kitchen one morning (when your dog seems particularly upset) and see this red head beauty already standing at your counter in a white night dress, holding a knife, —that she’s dead.

You fight the urge to run and it’s a good instinct, you think. Because she’s looking at you so hopefully. Like you can see her.

And you are usually quite eloquent and articulate but all you can manage to say is,”Are you her? Did you die here?”

And oh my goodness don’t antagonize a ghost but… she just gives you a kind smile and says, “yes. I’m Natasha. I’ve been watching you.”

You swallow and say, “I know,” before joining her at the counter to drink coffee.

And after that—- you kind of become—- friends?

You welcome her presence and when she materializes you just… hang out and watch TV. She isn’t scary.

You want to know, but you never ask how she died. That seems so private and like something maybe she will tell you eventually. When you’re better friends.

She starts showing herself to you more and more and you honestly like her. Like of course it’s weird she’s a ghost (or a product of your medication) but she starts to become the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can tell her everything because she can’t tell anyone else. She’s dead.

But her physicality is real. And when she is present she can touch you and it’s so nice to be held.

You watch old movies with your head on her shoulder and her arms around your waist but— she’s always gone in the morning and you wake up alone on the couch.

You finally convince yourself out of your dead girl day dreams when you get a better psychiatrist (and better meds) and you meet someone —- who is a dream.

She never comes around when they’re there but you can feel her—- hovering. And you convince yourself you just need a higher prescription.

You’re crazy. Meds are your saving grace. There is no ghost in your house. You just went a little nuts for a while.

But then he has to go on a business trip to Dubai. For a month.

And your back alone in that place.

Except she won’t let you be alone. She’s back and she’s angry. And you don’t know how to apologize to a dead person when you’ve done nothing wrong.

But she haunts your every move. She won’t let you sleep.

Until one night you are so terrified and so desperate you just scream, “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

They’re the last words you’ll ever speak alive.

You never asked her but suddenly you see clear as day the man she married — choking her— to death.

Just as you feel her hands around your neck.

You’re so cold when you come out of her memory and you know, you know without even having to think about it - you’re dead.

You turn to the side and she is laying next to you with a soft smile on her face, brushing a little bit of your hair away from your eyes.

“You killed me,” you croak out.

“Yes,” she acknowledges.

“Why?!” You plead

“You asked me what I wanted. I wanted you. Forever.”

You’ll never even get to know if there is a heaven. You’ll always be trapped in her hell.

IM SORRY HOW LOBG AGO DID YOU WRITE THIS??? Its so good please- Bubba and peach thats so cute😭😭🥰

bleed all over me

a dark retelling of bleed it out through the perspective of the countess and her vampire daughter and their forbidden rendezvous...

mom vampire!natasha x daughter vampire!reader

warnings: INCEST, blood drinking, vampire au, mommy kink, innocence kink, and slight manipulation.

inspired by @seera-li :3

DO NOT READ if this offends or triggers you in the slightest, your media consumption is your own responsibility.

She had been ever so perfect, her little thing, her whole world. From the start of her life, to the moment she took her last breath, Natalia had always been there right by her side.

And when she cried wolf for her mother’s arms, the gentle call from her dying throat, she looked at the countess with eyes that only sparked the ever lasting joy of life.

Only then Natalia knew what she had to do. With skin pricked within seconds, blood cascaded down between the cracks of her lips and tongue, life forged itself back into her body as every bit of death seeped out of her bones.

When she had woken up hours later, seeking out for her mother’s arms bare in her nightgown, the countess spoke nothing but welcomed her with open arms. With her lips pressed against hers, tiny little whispers of life sparked once again between them.

* * *

She had missed this; the very love her mother had given her even way before her succumbing to death. Every kiss, every reassurance of her love, through the moans and whimpers while Natalia had her daughter between slender fingers.

While for now, she seeks out comfort from her, sat comfortably in her lap as the older woman brushed her silken hair through fibres, a moment passes between the two.

When Natalia finishes and settles the brush beside their table, she finds her daughter’s eyes seeking for her. Those wide doe things, staring at her with so much life and adoration, much more to experience in the many centuries they have to live.

“When was the last you had fed, peach?” Something swells in Natalia when she finds her flushing under the nickname. It had always been the name she had called her before she had fatefully died that night. Ever since, always since, it evoked the very same reaction.

She shrugs in response to her mother’s question, a purse to her lips as she twirls an unruly lock of Natalia’s red hair. Mumbles an answer once she finds the courage to: “Not sure.”

The older woman raises a brow at her, finds her trailing her gaze away from her own green ones before Natalia sighs and draws her chin up.

“It’s been weeks, love bug.” She frowned under her mother’s tone. “You know how I feel about feedings.”

She barely even found the courage to look up, but when Natalia gripped her chin a little harder, she bit her lip and found striking green eyes staring right back at her.

“Not that hungry, I guess.” She gave a poor shrug to mask the hunger that rumbled through her stomach. Natalia didn’t need to be creature of such to figure out the craving present in her daughter’s lips.

“Love bug?”

“Mmh?”

Natalia looked at her lovingly, eyes soft and gentle, yet still there was some firmness behind them that spoke of no room for argument.

She frowned and snaked her arms around the countess’ neck, grinding herself further and harder against her lap to feel the friction present between her legs.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, mama.”

The redhead looked at the smaller woman in her lap, rubbing an comforting hand over her bare arm as she sighed and drew her head up. She trailed her eyes away.

“You could never hurt me, love bug, you know this.” She cooed softly, just as her fingers mocked her own words against her skin. “Come closer, sweetheart.” She helped her scoot over. “I trust you. Always.”

And when the countess swept the long locks of hair away from one side of her shoulder, baring her pulsing neck to her daughter, Natalia waited for her to make the first.

While hesitant and doubtful, she inched closer to her mother’s waiting arms and ducked her head to where her pulse laid. Only then, revealing shimmering sharp teeth, she leaned close until they pricked her fragile pale skin to reveal crimson blood to her tongue.

When blood coated her buds, she moaned and softly whimpered against her mother’s skin. There was a moment of serenity between the silence, a moment of calm, sweet tang and bittersweet on her tongue. And when her quenching thirst was fulfilled, tummy satisfied and eyes fluttered closed, she pulls away from her mother’s beating neck.

Her teeth retract and Natasha thumbs at the blood that corners at her lips and licks it away. The countess grins at her daughter’s skin, what was once pale now blooming with life.

She cupped her cheek and found her eyes dazed in such euphoria, almost orgasmic and Natasha remembers the very first she had made her daughter cum. Such a frail little girl, she had been so innocent and unaware, wonderful and submissive, all her’s.

“You alright, bubba?” She swept the hair that framed her face. “Feel better now?”

She gave her mother a nod and sighed, a smile blooming on her blood stained lips. “Thank you, mama.”

Natasha grinned and melted into her embrace. Always and forever, anything for her little girl.