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honey-minded-hivemind · 3 months

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For Villain!Reader, I was imagining for their power/mutation/s to be something linked with mind control, pheromones, and possible some stingers or venom, like a bee or wasp or hornet. (They definitely have bee-like powers, and a mutation, but they don't have much proof at first to what their powers are based on). They never wanted powers, let alone the type they ended up having. They're unsure if anyone ever likes them for them, if any person around them will hurt them or abuse them, and fear they'll be used again by those who would hold power over them or blackmail them into doing their dirty work.

(WARNING: Mentions of self-harm, self-harm ideation, and abuse. Viewer discretion is advised...)

They thought they were insane, the first time they used their power, to protect themself from a thief or petty villain or abusive adult, only to find out they could see into that person's mind... Reader would spend the next several years defending thenself as they were used as a pawn by an older villain (an oc) who forced them into making minions, lest they kill another one of their family members. Reader hates their powers, but hates them even more. They've tried everything to rid themself of it, ripping stingers from their nail beds, bashing their head into walls, severing any connections in their mind to who they infected, no matter the pain or terror it caused them...

One day, though, heroes, maybe even other villains, show up, and go to take down their abusive boss... Reader watches from the shadows, doing their best to disengage traps and hunting down anyone who had darts full of their venom, or tests on their pheromones... The heroes do their best to stop this new and dangerous villain, but... lt seems no matter what they do, it doesn't faze their foe in the least. No matter what they throw at them, no matter their scheme or plan, it does nothing to stop this wicked villain... Until Reader comes up from behind them, a small shadow. Their powerful foe grins, saying how their most perfect minion has arrived-

Only to be scratched by sharp, gleaming stingers, dribbling bright venom into their bloodstream. They hiss, soon going into a violent meltdown, screaming at the top of their lungs. The heroes aren't sure what's going on, neither are the villains, but the moment they realize Reader's power had been used (they weren't aware what it was), they keep their distance, watching warily as their ultimate enemies screeches plans of vengeance and death. Reader escapes in the chaos, running as fast as they can so as not to be caught if someone followed them. The fires they set in the labs had grown, spreading soon to the halls, and the building was filling with smoke and ashes. They manage to find an exit, and prop it open, opening a few more around the building before they flee, escaping into the night.

The next few years they spend trying to rebuild their life, learning how to sever any mental connections (they can always hear the wails on the other end-), creating art and finding odd knick-knacks and old items to sell, getting a small job in a little coffee shop, where they can help put their OCD and hobbies to good use. It seems good, if only for awhile. It took them YEARS to finally shove out the voices, to take control, to try to free any caught up in what they did. The time doesn't lessen the pain of what happened to them, the loss of family, of friends, the self-mutilation done by their own hand, the hours spent crying alone, sleepless nights and endless days of trying to find a job, books, anything to give them something to start anew, to get a better life...

And all of that comes crashing down when they find out heroes are looking for their old alias.

Reader does their best to stay calm, working through trying to keep their head down and covering any hidden strings and threads that could lead to them. But apparently, it seems that that doesn't stop them from being discovered, someway, somehow...

Their confrontation is small, Reader staying tight-lipped in silence as the hero/es and/or villain/s remark that they've heard a lot about them, their exploits, what they did under their old boss... And reveal they know they're a kid. That they figured out what their powers did, from their defeated boss and those infected under them. And that they want to help them.

Reader would be wary, saying that they have no idea what they are talking about, who they've mentioned, and that the old alias they mentioned sounds better off dead. The hero/es/villain/s interrogating them eyes narrow, and they make a statement about keeping in touch. And just like that- they leave, stalking off, leaving Reader to their own devices. Reader is frightened, breaths wild and erratic, and they take the chance to hide, having a breakdown. After all those years, all that time- They were found. And if they weren't careful, they could be dragged back to face comeuppance for their past.

Over the next month, they have various heroes and villains approach, trying to coax them into talking, opening up conversations over their own past, some going as far as to say they aren't so different... They know where Reader is, going to where the coffee cafe they work at is to try whatever drinks and foods they make, making polite compliments on whatever they've tasted, having a delighted look when a coworker points out Reader made what they were trying. Even the thrift stores and antique malls they frequent, having a booth where they sell and trade their findings, even handmade items such as blankets, small plushies, ornaments and magnets, even paintings, they're there, ready to talk and try to catch them on their own. A few ask what they did to make them, others offer tips (words and change), and plenty of the heroes and villains buy some of their creations. (Especially bee-themed objects, as it reminds them of their old alias, whom some actually fought or chased on several occasions).

Reader eventually reaches a breaking point, where they pack up any useful items, all of their money, and whatever necessities they need, and go to leave where they've hidden out... Only to find they're being followed by the same people they were fleeing from. When they catch up, they point out they'd be happy to have Reader with them, that they certainly wouldn't mind a chase like the good ol' days... Reader shrieks and makes a run for the woods. They're scared out of their wits, they're being pursued by people who could have a grudge against them and want to use them, and don't have anywhere to hide. Getting cornered into a fight, they don't want to engage, but... They can't stay, and they sure as h*ck can't be caught.

And the moment their stingers are out, the platonic yan hero/es/villain/s are smiling, saying how they're glad their favorite little bee is getting back into the hang of it. When Reader goes to back out, quickly letting their stingers slide back into their nails, they can see the annoyance of the platonic yandere/s. Who point out they aren't afraid of a little sting, that they can take whatever Reader throws at them, so why not go ahead and let out some stress? When Reader backs away, trying to slip into the shadows, well-

The platonic yandere/s isn't/aren't having any of it.

"Come on, kid... I've tasted it before, and I'm not afraid of it. If anything... it feels pretty good. I've missed hearing you. So why not fix that?"

And that is how Reader learns (guesses correctly) how far their venom and pheromones had gone. It could let others, those stung or who inhaled/were injected hear THEM, as much as Reader heard them, becoming soft for them as they found out how they hated what they did, how they did their best to stop their boss' evil from the inside, how they hurt themself- And it seems plenty of them grew attached through a bond Reader hadn't realized they'd severed from their old foes...

"So, how about it, kid? Let's catch up, hmm?"

Which leads to Reader having to try to escape from a web they didn't even knew they'd weaved...

(Example of what the platonic yanderes went through (those infected or telepathic, anyway:

Reader desperately wants hugs and reassurance, is hurting due to ripping out their stingers again, and has been crying for the last three hours:😭💦💔🖤😫

Infected Platonic Yan Heroes: Kid, please just let us in! We can give you plenty of hugs! We can even throw in heated blankets and cookies! Just PLEASE stop doing this to yourself and let us in!

Infected Platonic Yan Villains: Bee, please open up the (mental) door! We don't want to have to hunt you down to strangle (hug) some sense into you! We can get rid of your boss! THAT would make you happy, right?! H*ll, that crazy *sshole is locked in a special prison only Fury, Wolverine, the Professor, and Iron Man know about! We can break in and break them, yeah?!

Telepaths who can hear all of this, and are unaffected: Oh sweet heavens, get a grip! And child, please, please calm down. We will try to find you (hopefully adopt you and give you therapy), just please take down your walls for only a minute!

Reader, feeling a headache at their mental block: slams it even harder, severing several connections and leaving those severed in pain

Platonic Yanderes (all of them): ... Well, it seems we need to pay our little friend a visit... Someone distract Fury while we go out-

Later

All the infected heroes, villains, and unaffected-but-concerned telepaths seeing each other at the train station:👀

Everyone: Who the F*CK told you about this?!)

Any ideas for Reader's old villain/anti-hero name? Maybe I can hold a poll for it?

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere x reader #Villain!Reader AU #platonic yandere avengers #platonic yandere xmen evolution

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slasher-cam · 2 months

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𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Welcome to the internet ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ [About Me] Idk I'll write if you send me requests. I like crafts, books and sour apple flavored candy. Spam likes and roblogs are encouraged! *but i like comments the most*

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My main Focus|Poppy Playtime CH.3 , Avengers|

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NSFW/SFW Angst Fluff Smut Neutral Platonic Headcanons Preferences Oneshots Blurbs Series & Fanfics LBGTQIA+ asks

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Sherlock Supernatural Doctor who|10th & 11th Doctor| Psych

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Requests?|OPEN|

#poppy playtime x reader #avengers x reader #sherlock x reader #doctor who x reader #Scream x reader #Ghostface x reader #the lost boys x reader #poly!lost boys x reader #house of wax x reader #harry potter x reader #marvel x reader #undertale x reader #fnaf x reader #security breach x reader #dogday x reader #supernatural x reader #Avengers x reader #disney villains x reader

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draculagetspegged · 7 months

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"olrox redemption arc!!!" redemption for what. what did he even do wrong

#julia youre a queen im sorry for this post #im joking but also. idk. hes not... REALLY much of a direct villain throughout the show.#once his lover was avenged he does not seem to have conquering plans nor have beef w the belmont & co.#and seems to be directly averse to the plan to take over the world or at least the americas :/#hes just trying to get some dick 😔#olrox #nocturne spoilers #nocturne #my posts

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faithforgottens · 1 year

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𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆.

from the writer’s desk: i’d tell you i started this a year ago after deciding i needed closure on post - crying on newport beach about how i’m incapable of being loved but that would mean me unloading all over the dash, and nobody needs that. i’m just a girl, out here projecting like tomorrow’s not coming, and thought i’d share. please know that i love carol, i just had to pick a character that i didn’t have strong emotional attachment to in order to play my villain. motivation to continue this would be much appreciated, thnx. summary: you’ve been stuck in carol’s web for nearly four months now, and you need a distraction before you go postal and commit a capital crime or worse, tell her you love her. fortunately for you, natasha’s willing to offer her services. contains: college!natasha x female reader —— warnings include toxic relationship dynamics that involve infidelity, gaslighting and cheating, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, nsfw content [ fingering, dirty talk ]. → inbox status: OPEN don’t repost my works anywhere.

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 am i gonna see you tonight?

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 :(

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 hellllllooooooooooo??

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 I WANNA SEE U I MISS UR PRETTY FACE

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN 💬 pls come tonight. it would mean everything to me

You’ve never claimed to be smart.

In fact, you’re pretty sure you have to fall on the opposite end of that spectrum in order to bother showing your face tonight at the behest of Carol fuckin’ Danvers. Satan. It’s the work of the goddamn devil pulling you from the clutches of your apartment’s comfortable silence where you’d be much better off riding through the nuanced gut-punching waves of disappointing Carol guilt instead of the hell storm that is being played once again by Carol guilt. You even put on eyeliner for such an occasion, because if you’re going to get fucked over (either physically, emotionally, or both), you might as well look good doing it.

Her name’s still lighting up your phone as the Uber drops you off at the curb, boasting a flood of pictures on Snapchat that illuminate the awaiting scene inside of the frat house through blurry streaks of glass bottles and marijuana smoke and the pale expanse of her neck where a glint of her gold necklace flashes is promised to you to do as you wish, leaving behind bruises or lip prints. It’s an enticing picture painted for you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think maybe tonight will be the night she tells you she’s free from the clutches of Maria, her perfectly sane girlfriend that you’ve only ever known through Carol’s jilted lens, and that she’ll even let you climb her like a tree in front of her friends.

Lucky you.

Except you do know better. In the pit of your stomach, you know the reality is that you are in closer proximity than Maria, which therefore makes you the most convenient piece of ass at Carol’s disposal, that Carol believes — and is likely right about how — you’re still wound tight enough around her finger to make you drop to your knees like a good little girl, blinded by her golden halo of hair and the whiskey-soaked taste of her lips and ready to excuse her shit treatment of you. That even feeling like you have her for the beat of a butterfly’s wings is worth your sanity. And despite it all, it isn’t enough to keep you away. It’s not enough to exile the parts of a masochistic heart beating in your chest that somehow loves her, even if the only part of you she loves is your willingness to show up for her.

Carol’s fraternity is co-ed, which means that between all of the brothers, their social circle extends to the farthest corners of the university — they consume a fair bit of your own, considering you have at least two classes a semester with Bucky, sit with them at Wanda’s softball games (mostly so you can talk shit about your high school ex that made the team), and rent study rooms at least once a month with Thor, Bruce, and Val to spiral into late night insanity while you all contemplate the meaning of life and attempt to memorize vocabulary words. You slip in through the door, bass thudding into your molars and the heavy blanket of smoke and sweat covers your bare shoulders as you weave your way through the house.

“Look who finally showed up!” Behind the counter in the kitchen is Sam Wilson, running position as makeshift bartender. You detour long enough for a vodka and Diet Coke, stopping next to the barstool that Bucky’s perched on. He tucks you underneath his arm for a side hug, other hand tipping his own solo cup back as he tries to drain the last bit of liquor down his throat.

They’re good friends to you. It’s why you hate doing this dance with Satan — because at some point, you feel that there’s going to be a tectonic shift between the two of you that dredges up a rift in the concrete and you don’t know who will be left on your side. You don’t know who you’ll be able to look in the eye and lie to about Carol, who would pick you over her. You don’t even know if any of them would believe you or would write you off as crazy as you’ve been writing yourself off as of late.

You tell yourself that you’re trying, goddammit, to shove that piece of yourself back into a locked drawer and enjoy the company of your friends.

“Anybody seen Danvers?” you pitch as nonchalantly as you know how, planting your elbows down onto the granite of the counter while you watch Sam mix your drink. He goes heavy on the vodka, which you quietly appreciate.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, we’ve seen her alright.”

“She’s in the dining room trying to rally everyone into a round of strip beer pong,” Sam explains. “Last we saw, she got her shirt stuck in the chandelier.”

“The face of class, this fraternity,” you tease as Sam hands you your drink. He can’t help but laugh, a jovial, guttural noise that makes you smile, even though your stomach is currently in your throat.

You bid them farewell and snake through the living room, trying to avoid the furniture or the bodies of other people and almost always fail in avoiding both at the same time as you carve out a path to the dining room. It’s densely packed, which forebodes the game of beer pong that the boys mentioned. You try not to cut your elbows into the bones and flesh of others to make your way through, but your adrenaline is humming at the thought of seeing Carol, the thought of her body glowing in the house lights and the cut of her physique out on display for anyone, including you, to openly ogle without abandon.

“Goddamn, Danvers!” someone yells mirthfully. “Keep it in your pants!”

Whistling down to one thought, one track, your mind lasers in and you’re positive that the sharp point of your elbow nails T’Challa directly in the ribs as you finally make it to the inner lip of the circle around the dining room table. It’s desperate. You know it’s desperate. You'll care about it later, you’re sure, but for now, all that’s on your mind is her.

“For the love of fuck, I—” Someone stumbles back into you, dark hair in frizzy waves and the bill of their baseball cap nearly jabbing straight into your nose. Wanda Maximoff spins around, her eyes lightening up at the sight of you as she grabs onto your wrist to stable herself. “Oh! Hey, babe,” she says with a smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me either,” you tell her, trying not to be blatant as you scan for Carol. “Carol didn’t tell me until last minute.”

“Boo,” Wanda pouts, before turning to yell over her shoulder, “Danvers! Fuck you!”

“Get in line!” Carol calls back, and your head locks in on where her voice comes from. Your stomach plunges into free fall when you see her: as promised, she’s standing around in her sports bra and jeans, white teeth glinting and blonde hair curling around onto her tanned shoulders, biceps on display and her arms snaked around — her.

Maria Hill, in the flesh, pressed against Carol’s side and her chin balanced on Carol’s shoulder as Carol makes a shot one-handed that successfully lands in a cup on the opposite end of the table. Carol cheers victoriously, and Maria kisses her cheek, and you notice that Carol’s hand on Maria’s side drifts down towards her ass.

All of Carol’s messages swim inside your mind, the ones where she assures you that it’s all real, that she and Hill are done, that Hill’s holding her back, that she’s felt things for you since the moment she laid eyes on you and just knew; the ones where she paints a beautiful picture of a future with you, the same picture she’s just doused in cheap spirits and ruined for the dozenth time. Your drink suddenly tastes like arsenic, heavy and uneven in your stomach, the room shrinking and heat crawling up your neck in an uncomfortable panic. You are going to be sick.

Wanda’s voice comes through in the midst of the ringing in your ears. Fuck you, Danvers.

It takes you a moment to realize that Wanda’s voice isn’t just a reverberation inside your mind, but is right in your ear. “Hey!” She calls your name again, and you finally snap your attention back to her. She scans over your face for a moment, eyebrows folding in the center of her brow. “You alright? Where’d you just go?”

The shock is fresh on your face, salt water from the crashing wave that’s irritating your eyes — you refuse to let yourself cry, here in front of everyone, because all that’s going to do is open the door to a conversation you don’t want to have, incite a fight with Carol that you’ll surely lose, leave you feeling even lower than you do at the moment. You shake your head, trying to shake whatever emotions that aren’t nonchalant off of your face. “Noth—nowhere,” you stammer, voice an octave higher than usual. Wanda’s perplexity only deepens. “More crowded than I thought. Got beer-splashed.”

Wanda breaks into a smile, seemingly buying your excuse. “C’mon, what’d you expect?” she ribs. It’s a loaded question, and if Wanda wasn’t Wanda, you’re sure it’d be enough to light your rapidly shorting fuse. The thin strain in your falsified smile must give something away, because she softens the slightest bit and wraps her arm around yours. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll kick your ass sideways in pool.”

You appreciatively take Wanda’s out, allowing her to guide you away from the Carol show and the crowd of people you have steeled yourself in order to not cry in front of and head with her towards the basement, which the frat has renovated into a lounge space with a giant television, sectional that is infamous for its hosting of The Threesome, and the pool table. It hasn’t garnered quite the same audience that the beer pong game has, but less people means you feel slightly less suffocated. Carol’s still got her foot on your throat, but down here, it’s easier to maneuver and act as though you haven’t just had yourself made a fool in front of everyone without them knowing.

Relieved for the little things, like elbow room, you sit down on the arm of the sectional and take a long drink from your cup — if you’re going to survive the rest of the night without your tail tucking between your legs (and you’re determined to further your self-sabotage by going the extra mile to ensure Carol knows she fucked up, even though it’s likely she doesn’t care) you’ll have to be drunker than this. Wanda adjusts her hat on her head and picks up a pool cue, glancing back over her shoulder at you. “Want someone to show you how it’s done?” she teases.

You lift your cup in acknowledgment, smile shedding off of your lips. “Go for it.”

As Wanda weasels her way into the current game of pool, you do a quick intake of who all’s downstairs. There’s a few of the brothers, a few of the brother’s dates, people that are otherwise background characters designed to make campus seem at capacity but not so many people that no one would notice if you threw up in the corner or worse, started crying. You purse your lips around the rim of your solo cup, scanning the company around the pool table. Wanda sidles up next to another one of her brothers, poking her with the pool cue. “Nat!” Wanda whines. “Give me room.”

Natasha Romanoff shuffles out of the way with the roll of her eyes. “Poke me with the stick again and it’s gonna go somewhere less than ideal.”

Wanda flicks her middle finger upright before hunching around the shape of the pool cue. “You don’t scare me, Natty.”

“Your funeral.”

Your eyes follow Natasha out of the way, and she feels their weight because the next thing you know, you’re off the cliffs and deep somewhere inside the greenery of her eyes. They’re pretty eyes, you idly note, and you find yourself mulling over Natasha Romanoff, as a person, as a concept, as Natasha. She’s the oldest of the girls in the fraternity, a senior to your junior, and she’s been around for so long that it’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t there. It’s hard to imagine a room without her in it, a constant fixture on the mantel that you don’t even bother acknowledging it anymore.

She cocks an eyebrow at you after what’s sure to be a long moment of staring, and Wanda, who is unfortunately more observant than you’d like to believe, begins laughing. “Am I interrupting this little staring contest?”

Natasha smirks. “I could win a staring contest and kick your ass at the same time, Maximoff.”

“Show off,” Wanda grumbles as she passes the pool cue over to Natasha. She then looks at you, and whatever grumpiness dissipates, her shit-eating grin returning. “Now, you on the other hand,” she preludes with a gesture towards you. “There’s no way.”

You drain the rest of your drink and discard the cup off to the side. "You talk a lot, Wan,” you inform her as you walk up to the side of the pool table. Wanda just grins as you turn to Natasha, gesturing for the pool cue. “Let me have a go.”

Natasha acquiesces and passes you the pool cue, giving you the space you need coupled with a low nod of encouragement. There are a few clusters of balls around the table and you’re trying to eye up a shot that’ll give you not only a handful of points, but will get Wanda off your back — even if you are grateful for the timing of her diversions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough; you can still hear the laughter and music through the walls from upstairs, a raucous noise that scatters your train of thought. Is it Carol? What’s she doing? What’s she whispering into Hill’s ear? Does she know you’re even here? Does she care?

Probably not.

You take the shot without thinking, balls ricocheting off the sides of the pool table. Wanda barks out a laugh. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Just getting warmed up,” you say stiffly, handing the pool cue off.

Wanda’s face is alight with amusement, nodding slowly as she moves around the pool table for her next shot. “Okay.”

You’re too far in your head, and you know it. You’re content to linger on the outskirts of the game while everyone else that Wanda goes about recruiting takes their turn. It’s a few minutes or an hour before the cue ends up back in your hand, like a rickety sort of clockwork that is unexpected but also entirely predictable. You assess the situation and find a decent enough angle now that the game has progressed, significantly so.

You bend over slightly, eyes fixed on a blue ten that’s not too far from the cue. Before you can make the shot, you hear someone behind you muttering. “Do it like this.”

When you glance over your shoulder, it’s Natasha, only a few inches from where you stand, hands hesitating before she reaches out. “Back up,” she guides, her hands stationing on your hips and forcing you to take a half-shuffle of a step backwards. “And lift your elbow like this.” You’re clay and she shapes you how she wishes, her touch feather light. “Okay. Now try.”

You do exactly as she says, pool cue shooting from your hand and colliding with the cue ball. The ten you’ve had your eyes on sails into the pocket without any interference.

“Nice shot, sweetheart,” Natasha says, her voice ghosting along the back of your spine. As you straighten up, you glance behind you, noticing the faint grin along the curve of her lips.

“Well that wasn’t sexual at all,” Wanda comments with a low whistle as the pool cue returns to her grip. “Do losers get laid still? I wouldn’t know.” With a toothy flash of a grin, she draws the cue back and makes another shot — you’re not entirely focused on her efforts, thanks to the gravity of Natasha’s sights still pressing deep into your skin.

Wanda talks a big enough game that she recruits nearly everyone standing around the pool shot to give it a go, which provides a window of opportunity for Natasha to brush a hand along your shoulder and steal you away. “Up for a smoke?” she asks, and you nod. You allow her to lead the way out through the basement’s French doors, slipping outside into the backyard where the sky is dotted with stars, the air smells only the slightest bit cleaner, and the music is nothing but a dull pulse from inside the house.

Natasha steers you away from the patio where other fraternity brothers and their guests are sitting around, enjoying their drinks and laughing amongst their idle, stoned conversations around the fire pit. You follow her into the grass, trailing around the side of the house until the two of you don’t have any other company aside from each other and Thor’s knockout rose bushes that he takes great pride in.

She leans up against the wall, hands fishing in the pocket of her jacket for her lighter. For someone who’s devoted the rest of their evening to shooting metaphorical (or even literal) middle fingers in Carol’s direction, you’re still too far on edge to be nonchalant about any of it. The quiet is all consuming, maddening inside of your buzzing mind. Natasha produces a joint, embers burning on the end as she lights it and brings it up to her lips. You’re left to watch as she takes a long, casual drag, a cloud of smoke billowing from her lips on the exhale. Her wrist then extends, offering the joint up; if there is such a thing as too eager, you’d be the poster child for it, the way you pluck it from her fingers and take a hit.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, her voice a low drag of gravel against the muted bass thud inside of the house. You open an eye and glance over at her, her green eyes burning holes through you as she watches.

“Eh,” you mutter half-heartedly with a shrug. “Not worth it.”

You pass the joint back to her after you take one more drag, your eyes fixed on the steady stream of smoke that you forcibly control the exit from your mouth. It’s nice to have control over something, you think, even if it is, to some degree, just seeing how long you can hold your breath.

“Seems like you could use a distraction,” Natasha comments, fingers idly rolling the joint between her fingers as smoke still curls from the tip.

You laugh, a low and guttural noise that’s passive at best. “Yeah, probably.”

Natasha turns so her entire body is facing you, and it doesn’t register, the way that she’s looking at you, until you feel her brush your hair off of your face. Your eyes fully open, somewhat surprised by the action, watching her carefully. Natasha’s a lot of things, but gentle isn’t one you’d readily associate with her. It’s almost like she’s handling you like glass, waiting for the right moment to shatter you. It’s a hiccup in your chest, a strange feeling washing over your body.

“Let me distract you, then.” She says it simply, like it’s the most logical conclusion to arrive at.

“Nat, what...”

“C’mere.” One of her hands encircles your wrist, guiding you closer. You follow wordlessly in her guidance, unsure of what she’s doing or what’s to come. She takes another hit of the joint, her eyes glowing the same way the end of the joint does, a low burning fire that seems to grow hotter the longer your eyes are connected.

The hand holding your wrist slides up your body until she’s cupping your jaw, her thumb darting across the expanse of your face to swipe across your lips in a prompt to open them. She lowers the joint, bringing her face inches away from your own as her mouth forms a perfect circle and releases smoke. You’ve shotgunned weed before, but never at such a close proximity. Natasha breathes out and you breathe in, eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy of the moment.

“Gonna let me distract you some more?” she whispers, and you barely register yourself nodding before her lips capture your own. Her mouth is plush and soft but nothing about her is gentle anymore — this is where she forces a spiderwebbing crack across your surface, the deft way in which she manipulates your lips to do exactly as she’d like, her tongue skating across the skin and opening your mouth to allow her access. You can’t help but to sigh into the kiss. She is exactly what she claims she is: a distraction, a welcome reprieve, and the golden halo around Carol’s head seems fuzzy and jilted now.

Natasha kisses you like she’s trying to set you on fire; at some point she has absconded the joint and ground out its remnants into the mulch, both her hands cupping your face as she boxes you in with her legs and adjusts the two of you so your back is now flush against the wall. “How’s this?” she murmurs against your ear, lips starting a descent down your neck that is feather light and the gentle scrape of her teeth.

“Very... very distracting,” you stammer out, fingers curling into fiery red hair.

“Good,” Natasha hums, her mouth vibrating over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone that causes your grip in her hair to tighten. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so far in your head.”

You nod, thankful for the reward of her body pressing against yours.

“What d’you say?” Her voice ghosts over your skin, and for a moment, you’re not sure what it is she’s asking. It takes a moment, the weed and the liquor clouding your mind, but the dig of Natasha’s blunt fingernails into your hips and the graze of her teeth along your skin serves as motivation. “Huh? What d’you say, princess?”

“Thank you,” you gasp, the feeling of her mouth tightening around your skin wet and hot sending a glimmer of electricity down your spinal cord. Natasha chuckles, a dark and melodic noise that buzzes through your body.

“You’re welcome,” she croons. “’S that all you needed? Or do you need more?”

More. It’s the knee jerk response you have, the way your world has narrowed down to just her and the scent of her heady perfume and each individual curve of muscle is now flush against you. Your eyes open only to see Natasha grinning like she’s the fuckin’ devil.

Maybe you were misplaced somehow.

Natasha’s hands drag over your sides, up and down roughly as she kisses you and forces your legs farther apart so she’s able to snake one of her thighs in between them. She rucks your top up on the edges, fingers brushing over your skin in a delightful contrast to the cool evening air. Natasha is hot, her touch burning and singeing the skin wherever it moves. She’s painting you out of ashes and making you into something beautiful, something uniquely her own. Her hands slip underneath your shirt and you feel one hand trail upwards, fingers wrapping around your breast before squeezing. It elicits another tiny moan from you, which Natasha swallows down with a kiss. “Shh,” she hisses against your lips. “Be quiet.”

You arch into her touch as her fingers slip beneath the cup of your bra and pinch your nipple tight, another squeak of pleasure groaned into her mouth. It only encourages her further, the other hand of hers moving in the opposite direction. “Want me to touch you?” she whispers in your ear while you press your mouth into her shoulder, breath warm against your ear and her teeth just barely missing your earlobe. “Bet you’re not distracted now; only thing you and that pussy are thinking about is me, huh?”

“Fuck, Nat,” you mumble into her skin.

“Yeah you are,” she replies with a shit eating grin, your head tilting back until it roughly meets the back of the wall as her hand goes up your skirt.

You’d been meticulous prior to coming over, thinking on whatever lone star trailing in the sky that you’d be seducing Carol tonight; you’d purposefully worn your skimpiest pair of underwear just to show her what she could have if she was with you. It’s only when you see the look on Natasha’s face, the way her pupils dilate and her jaw slackens the slightest bit as her fingers skim in between the folds of your thigh and vulva and feels lace that you feel something resembling satisfaction. “You came ready for a distraction, princess,” she grumbles, moving your underwear to the side and swiping her fingers through what is now sheer want dripping from you. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“N... Nat,” you whine, squirming around in the pursuit of pressure. “Touch me.”

She places the tip of her finger at your entrance, just barely teasing it in. “Ask nicely, honey.”

The words spill from your lips without thought. “Please, Nat, please touch me, fuck m—” She cuts you off as she slips her finger inside of you and you all but rocket up the side of the wall at the feeling. Her free hand, still underneath your shirt, wrestles out from beneath the fabric and is slapped over your mouth to muffle whatever noise you make.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” she says between her gritted teeth. “Here.” She presses her index and middle fingers against your lips and you acquiesce, opening them wide enough to allow them to slip in. “Suck.”

You do as you’re told, happy to oblige as she begins to finger you. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way she fucks you; she adds another finger and finds a steady rhythm, curling each time she’s knuckle deep inside of you just so she can be rewarded with you humming around the fingers in your mouth. It amuses her to some extent, the way her eyes have darkened and her mouth is slightly agape. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and considering how tight you are wound, you’re not going to last long.

"Clench around me, pretty girl,” she hisses amongst the other litany of dirty things she’s whispering in your ear. “Such a sweet pussy, does whatever I ask it to; what if I want this pussy all to myself? You gonna let me have it?”

You nod, Natasha withdrawing her fingers from your mouth before she hauls you in for the filthiest kiss of your life. “Fuck,” you whimper against her lips. “Yours, Nat, your pussy.”

“Yeah, I know. This is my pussy now, all tight and hot and wet and desperate just for me. This was what you needed, wasn’t it? Needed me to fuck you silly until you forget how to put one foot in front of the other.”

“Please, Nat, gonna...”

“What?” she teases, her thumb flicking across your clit and you know that she’s doomed you, mind and body barreling down a track that there is no return from. “What, baby? Use your words.”

“Gonna come,” you manage to get out, and she fucking laughs.

“‘S right,” she agrees. “Gonna make this little pussy come all over my fingers, since I’m the only one who can. That right?” You nod; her fingers tighten in your hair and pull your head back so your neck is exposed for her. “C’mon, baby, wanna see you make a mess on my hand. Come for me like a good little slut. You know you want to.” You do, you do, and everything is bordering on the edge of too much the way Natasha is sucking your neck and rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Show me who’s pussy this is. Come.”

Another few thrusts and flicks of your clit and you are gone, Natasha bringing her mouth back to yours to swallow the keens and cries of you hitting your climax. The brick wall underneath you scratches at your shirt but it is a heavenly feeling, losing control underneath Natasha. She just smiles when she pulls away and you slump into her, perfectly sated.

“That was hot,” she says with a wicked grin, pulling her fingers out of you. She doesn’t break eye contact as she brings them up to her lips, sucking your taste off of them. Her eyes alight with pleasure, a contented hum reverberating from her vocal cords. “Thanks, pretty girl.”

Beat that, Danvers.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #carlie writes things #writing: fics #i am a fan of wanda starting shit tysm #let wanda be the villain if she wants!!!! <3 #i have played pool exactly 0 times before so leave me alone

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jasontoddenthusiastt · 6 months

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Imo Jason is “irredeemable” by default because I don’t see what he needs redemption from.

#I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before but joining this fandom made me fucking hate the word ‘redemption’#no person I’ve seen who is in love with the concept knows the who what where when why or how it should work in a story #apparently it isn’t just themes and tropes anymore people don’t understand the proper use of the word ‘villain’#kelseethe #also hilarious: Jason should recieve sensitivity training HR style from Bruce ‘I’m the government and children are my cronies’ wayne #if Jasons headstrong/‘answers to no one’ attitude towards vigilantism is what makes people think he's villainous #I hate to be a broken record but the baddie you’re describing is Bruce #nobody thinks he’s a villain for only trusting in his own methods/self and repeatedly isolating himself #and on top of that gaslighting and hurting people around him in attempts to do what HE **thinks** is the right thing #you people always thought *him* heroic not problematic for all these traits #the only difference is Jason isn’t psychologically abusive & controlling #yet he’s still the bad guy just cause he liberally kills folks in the crime business.#l'd argue goth ham war is the b*tman story to remind you of everything that makes Bruce authentically himself #Idk how to tell you that Bruce mentally compromising/crippling his son in a twisted attempt to ‘save him from himself’#is perfectly in line with slitting the same son’s throat because he couldn’t stand to see him avenge his own killer #and yk what a redemption arc could be interesting for someone like Bruce #because he rarely questions or doubts his choices esp wrt Jason. no matter how morally dubious they may be #I think it would be quite fun to witness his extremely restricted worldview be challenged/shattered he deserves that humbling experience

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chaotictigercollection · 1 year

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Marvel Villains

#marvel villains #avengers villains #x men villains

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worstloki · 2 months

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Wholeheartedly believe Loki could get a few followers on social media and it would go to his head. He doesn’t need to fight the Avengers on the regular anymore because he’s busy making posts and chatting with random people with his ‘RP Earthsona’ etc.

#Asgard has a small population so Loki sees the follower count go to 200 and just... quits as a villain #he has more than enough attention #now his stunts aren’t for evil they’re for likes and requests his followers gave that he seemed appropriate #you can’t suggest things like murdering innocents because he wants to keep his account safe for his younger followers #the avengers find out about his online presence very late #by the time they find out what’s happened everything is chill #Thor like ‘this was the suggestion I left haha!! he enjoyed the cat cafe!! ^-^’#he is doing drawing requests

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theroyalbard · 11 months

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More art of my Spidersona - Salvager: The Cyberpunk spider.

I she was born with a congenital heart condition like me ❤️ and got cybernetic enhancements to help her.

#spidersona #spider society #spider man into the spider verse #oc #spider man 2099 #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #cyberpunk #hobie brown #peter parker #the avengers #Tony stark is a villain #tony stark

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acriminalmind · 2 years

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The More the Merrier [oneshot]

G!P Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: The interrogation with your arch-enemy, Natasha Romanoff, turns into something completely different.

Warnings: The reader is G!P, non specific pronouns for reader, villain reader, kidnapping, kinda stalking, mention of death, TopDom Reader, Bottom Natasha, enemies, foursome, oral, anal, vaginal, pet names, praise, the reader has powers (mind reading, self-replication, voice hypnosis), multiple orgasms, manipulation.

Based on this request: How about Natasha x gp reader who has the power to make clones and they all fuck Natasha.

Enjoy!

This was the moment you had waited for so long. It had taken you years but had finally managed to accomplice it. You had captured the famous black widow. Your arch-enemy. The redhead laid unconscious in the secured cell in front of you. You had managed to intercept secret information about her current mission, which had led you to the location she was heading to alone. Silently you had waited in a dark corner of the building for her arrival. Only fifteen minutes had passed when she quietly walked inside the building, fully armed and with her guard up high, not high enough to spot you watching her apparently. You watched her complete her mission but before she could leave the building and head back to the jet you shot a tranquilizer dart in her neck. Within a few seconds and before she could alarm her team she fell unconscious on the floor.

This moment has been something you had dreamt of since you discovered her true identity. Many times she had slipped through your fingers, but not this time. The Russian infiltrated your organization many years ago and caused its downfall of it. While all members were either killed off or being imprisoned for the rest of your life, you managed to escape. A week after that you found out that the woman who pretended to be your brother's girlfriend was an undercover SHIELD agent who turned out to be the black widow. Feeling betrayed and angry you swore to avenge your brother, who was one of the people that was killed. Years went by and you watched her every move. Many chances to capture her had occurred, but each of those times there was someone of the team with her. You wanted her alone, without ringing any alarm bells too soon. Of course, you expected her team to search for her if they found out she vanished, but you would be long gone with the redhead as your prisoner when that time came. Your hiding place wasn't one that they could easily find. It was in a self-created pocket dimension. Natasha would be your prisoner for as long as you wanted and there was no way for her to leave without your permission. Before you would consider letting her go you wanted information. Damaging information about SHIELD that you knew she was one of the few that knew them. Like they destroyed your organization, you would destroy them.

It would probably take a few more hours before Natasha would wake up from her not-so-peaceful slumber and when that happened there was no way for her to escape so you decided to head towards your bedroom and get well-deserved some rest.

After your quick power nap, you watched the Russian pacing through her cell on the live camera footage on your Ipad for a few minutes while sipping on your tea. Looking back at the old footage she had indeed tried to escape but failed hard. While she was pacing she was taking in her surroundings as you expected. She was looking for weaknesses, something she could use in her advances. Disappointingly for her, there wasn't any, you made sure of it. When you finished your tea you decided that it was time to give your guest an official welcome.

"Hello, beautiful." Natasha's head shot towards the direction your voice came from. You walked out of the shadow so she could see you. "Y/n?" Well, she still remembered you. How nice. "Natalie Rushman, or should I say agent Romanoff from SHIELD aka the black widow. It's been too long. Well for you maybe. I've been watching you from the day you got my brother killed." You stepped closer to the cell. "He was a bad person. Killing him wasn't supposed to happen but he didn't want to cooperate and tried to kill my friend Clint. It was defense." You stared at her in silence. "Why am I here?" You let out a dark laugh. "Why are you here? You're here to pay for what you and your organization took from me. You will give me all the information I want and maybe I'll let you leave, go back to your friends for as long as they're alive." "And what makes you think I will talk, huh?" You laughed again, making her confused. "Who said anything about talking?" This confused her even more. "What?" Typing in the code of the cell door you opened it and closed it again after walking into the cell. "Do you remember our 'moment' together?" Slowly like a predator stalks its pray you walk towards Natasha. "I do. I've been replaying that moment for years now in my head." Natasha wanted to back away but a pair of hands stopped her. Behind her stood another version of you. One of your hands cupped her cheek. "I want to do that again. Let me make you feel good again like that night, Natalie." Before she could answer you places your lips on hers and kissed her softly. At first, she didn't react but after a few seconds, she kissed back. The other version of you started to kiss her neck, leaving small hickeys behind. Both of the you's started to undress the gorgeous woman in between you until she was fully nude. "Let me, let us make love to you, princess. Let us make you feel good." Mesmerized by your voice she nodded her head. "Good girl" Four hands were roaming over her body, worshipping every inch of it, while two pairs of lips were covering her in kisses. It felt so good. It almost made the voice in her head screaming at her to fight disappear. "I-I can't. T-this can't happen. It's not good." "But it can, baby. Just concentrate on how we make you feel. Doesn't it feel good?" "Y-yes." "It does, doesn't it, my sweet girl? You've been so busy with saving the world, just relax for a bit. You deserve it, don't you?" Her head fell back and her eyes closed as two of your fingers slid through her folds, "Y-yes." Slowly you sank your fingers knuckle deep inside of her and started to move. "God, baby. You're so wet already. Such a good girl for us." The other you sunk two of their fingers next to yours in between her folds. She moaned a little at how full she was. "If you are already full now, how will you take our cocks later?" With a few more pumps you felt her walls tighten. "Do you need to cum, sweets?" "P-please." "Tell us, baby. What do you want?" "I want to cum, please." "Then cum for us, baby. Cover our fingers in your juice." And so she did. With a loud moan, she came, almost falling onto the ground due to her shaking legs if it wasn't for the both of you keeping her up. "That's our good girl. Are you ready for more?"

Natasha sat on her knees on the cold floor with both versions of you standing naked in front of her. One cock was being stroked by her soft hand while the other was far inside her mouth. "If you make us cum within the minute we will fuck you till you can't walk anymore." Her hand moved faster while her head bopped up and down at a quicker pace. "Get ready for our seed, baby." One of you came first, covering her face in white while the other fast followed and filled up her mouth. "Swallow, sweet girl. Swallow it all." When she was done you kneeled in front of her, "you did so good, baby. You will get your reward now." The other you layed on their back on the floor. "Go sit on their cock, princess." Inch by inch she sunk down on your massive cock, letting out a high-pitched moan. Carefully you pushed her forward until both her hands were placed on each side of the other you's head. The tip of your cock nudges against her behind. "Let me in, baby." In one swift motion, you entered her and filled her to the brim with your cock. Both her holes are now full. "P-please move. I need you both to move." Desperations laced her voice and you loved it. You and your clone moved in sync in and out of her, not letting her be empty for a second. Your hands had a firm grip on her hips, digging your nails into her skin. "M-more, I need more." You smiled. The suggestions you placed in her mind gave her good ideas. "You need more, baby. Alright, we'll give you more. Open your mouth baby." A third clone of you stood in front of her with a hardened and leaking cock, watching with darkened eyes down at Natasha. She opened her mouth and let the third cock fill her third hole. Your eyes glowed blue and so did Natasha's. Her body started moving against yours, taking in more of your cock. Her tongue licked around your shaft while her breasts were bouncing in front of your face. Everything your clones felt and saw you felt and saw too. It was wonderful. While Natasha's mind had become fully fussy and had let down all its mental walls you started to dig into it, searching for what you wanted while still fucking the woman dumb. "Good girl. Open yourself up for me. Let me see what you know. I want it all."

After you collected all that you needed from her mind you roughened up your thrusting pace. Skin slapping on skin sounds and your moans filled the roam. All your bodies were covered in sweat. Her walls were clenching around your cocks for the 7th time, asking for another orgasm. You and your clones weren't far away from your own either. "You feel so good, baby. I can feel you clenching around us. Just a few more seconds and you can cum." You closed your eyes and threw your head back, focusing on your release. "You can cum on three, princess. One...Two...THREEAHHHH!" All three of you filled Natasha up in all her holes while her juices started to leak down her tights. You and the you beneath her helped her ride out her orgasm while the you with their cock in its mouth slipped out of her. Without having to say anything she swallowed all the cum. Slowly you slid out of her and helped her up. "You did so good, Natasha. Giving me all I want." Her eyes were falling shut at how tired she was from you and your two clones fucking her for hours. "You can rest now, baby. Close your eyes. When you wake up you'll be back home. Now sleep, princess. Sleep." Her eyes closed and she fell asleep in your arms.

After you cleaned and dressed her up you took her back to the place she had a mission. You placed her into the jet and entered the coordinates of the Avengers building into the system. A quick kiss was placed on her head before you left the jet and let it fly into the air and speed away. "Goodbye, Natalie." As fast as you could you returned to your hiding place to start your revenge. The end of SHIELD was starting and it was gonna be so much fun...for you.

Onto the Next!

Masterlist One, Two

#natasha romanoff x male reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #villain reader #the avengers #shield #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natalie rushman

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