#Anti hero smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiestrokes · 9 months

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Anti-Hero | NSFW

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader/You/Yn Rating: NSFW! Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Word Count: 1816 Genre: smut, porn without plot, established relationship, one-shot. Warnings: camping, bf/gf dynamics, use of the Joon's favorite word; baby.

Sexually Explicit Content: orgasm control, intercourse (penis in vagina), camping sex, soft dom if you squint really hard, edging, morning sex, semi-public sex.

Summary: You and your partner, Kim Namjoon are off in the woods on a secluded autumnal camping trip. The morning temperatures are frigid, but that doesn't stop Namjoon from stripping you down and warming you up.

🗝️ Note: the first repost😬Which wouldn't have happened if I hadn't asked @chans-room ily bby, thank you for being the best drift partner 🖤 Happy Joonie day!

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted in this story.

Read it on Ao3!

In the midst of your dream, you’re roused by the feel of large hands, hands that don’t belong to you slipping over your bare stomach.

“Joon?” Groggily you turn in your partner's arms so that your back is on the soft mat of the tent floor.

“Baby, I need you.” Namjoon breathes low, in his morning baritone. Pressing your body back into his, the erection he’s sporting despite the frigid October temperature seeking the cleft of your ass.

You know what that means and whine, “Joonie it’s too cold.”

He lets out a huff of laughter already moving around beneath the covers to slot himself between your legs. You gasp out from the shuffle of cold air and his clothed arousal pressing firmly into your core.

Namjoon looks down at your now, disgruntled face, affectionately. Blankets wrapped across his shoulders like a cape, hovering above you like some sexual superhero. Hands slipping to your face as he leans down to brush a kiss against your lips.

“You’ll warm up quickly, I promise.” He whispers into your ear, teeth nibbling the top of its curve before swirling his tongue inside.

A motion he knows makes your nipples instantly hard. You can’t push him away now, and morning sex is your favorite. Combined with the nips and kisses he’s now laying across your neck and collarbone you’re already warming up to the idea.

With a pleased sigh your hands tangle themselves in his thick hair, tugging with enough force that he understands you want his lips back on yours. Tongue ready to greet his, Namjoon melts into your mouth with a groan. His hips rutting into your pelvis and hands seeking your breasts under the many layers of clothing.

“Baby, I need your pants off now.” Namjoon breaks the kiss, panting into your neck. He begins placing some firm kisses across the column of your throat, before sitting back on his calves to survey you with darkened eyes. “I just need to feel my skin on yours.” He groans, a large hand stroking up your bare stomach again. Before his fingers curl around the waistband of his sweats and begin to slide them down his toned thighs.

Your eyes follow the movement, his thighs were arguably your favorite physical asset of his. Namjoon’s ears tint at the tips under your blatant stare. It didn’t matter how many times the two of you were together intimately, he couldn’t get over your very obvious, non-verbal praise of his body. The way you stared at his body with parted lips, how your legs opened up to him subtly, and the way your pupils engulfed the beautiful color of your irises. His favorite part, was the shameless smile you just assaulted him with when you caught him watching you admire him.

“Baby,” Namjoon groaned a hand moving to tug himself free as he leaned down to kiss your lips. Giving his length a few pumps, knuckles grazing your stomach at the movement. “If you don’t take your pants off, I’m going to rip them off.”

“Okay! Okay.” You let out a huff of laughter tinged with sexual frustration.

You start to tug your fleece-lined leggings off but are instantly met with some difficulty, Namjoon is quick to assist his dimples deepening into a smile. He pulls the leggings and socks free from their hang-up on your ankles, tossing them against the tent wall with the same urgency. His hands come up to spread your knees open with a low moan, causing your lips to spread into an inscrutable smile at his feral praise. Your hips bow suddenly when he dips two fingers inside your heat to find you already dripping with arousal.

“Someone’s a liar.” He raises one eyebrow at you, lips parted and tongue teasing you behind his teeth.

“I wasn’t lying! Just cold.” You rub at the goosebumps that have erupted on your thighs for emphasis.

Namjoon runs a large, warm hand up the outside of your thigh as he settles into you. Gasping out at the weight of him heavy between your hips. You roll your hips into him just slightly, hoping to catch his erection at your entrance. Namjoon’s jaw clenches at your movement, head turning to the side and eyes pinching shut. “Baby.” He warns. Mentally restraining himself not to ram into you, as he had been waiting for you to wake up for the last hour.

“Joon.” You beg, fingertips biting at his bare back under his loose sweatshirt to bring him closer. He nuzzles into your neck, forever a mix of soft affection trapped inside one giant body.

“You don’t want a little more foreplay?” Namjoon rasps, as his teeth recapture your earlobe.

“Joonie, you can kiss my neck while you fuck me.” You whine, hips rubbing into his restlessly.

Namjoon growls, before shifting his hips to line his erection up against your plush core. You roll your hips up to meet him, his eyes pop up to yours as he enters you slowly but fully. Watching one another's faces for a mirrored reaction of parted lips and hooded eyes as he sank completely into you. His hips established a slow, but steady rhythm right away.

“Fuck.” Your cheeks warm, as your entire body begins to heat up.

Namjoon slants his eyes at you, his large body pressing into yours again and again. Pushing soft grunts and moans out of you as his toned hips pump forward at a taunting pace. His long arms braced beside your hips to keep the angle agonizingly deep.

“Joonie!” You cry softly as he strokes the sensitive membranes at the front wall of your cunt greedily.

Namjoon huffs a smirk at your reactions, lowering himself entirely onto your body, his arms slipping underneath your shoulders.

“Namjoon.” You breathe warmly gathering him to you for a kiss as his strokes lengthen to an almost languid pace, touching all of your insides firmly.

He hums low into the back of your throat as your sheath tightens around his dick, and you take the opportunity to suck his tongue into your mouth. Namjoon’s body shudders at your motion, feeling the tug on his tongue shooting arousal straight to his balls. He breaks the kiss with a loud moan, eyes glaring into your mischievous ones.

“I should have never told you what that does to me.” He grumbled as he rammed into you suddenly, holding himself firmly at your entrance, your body squeezing him in protest. You gasped out, nails biting into his arms as he utilized your weakness against you. The way the thickened base of his cock spread you open deliciously and the pressure of his hold began activating your deepest climax. “That’s it, baby, take all of me.” Namjoon breathed, as he regarded you with slanted eyes, delicately pressing harder into you.

“Fuck!” You slapped a hand over your mouth, your body whipping briefly against the mat as your muscles began to coil on themselves. “Want me to move?” Namjoon asked, softening.

Your fucked out gazed met his, “Fuck me Joonie.”

He let out a groan before snapping his hips out and quickly back in, earning a half-vocalized scream from you.

“Namjoon,” You whimpered, hands moving to cup his bare ass.

“Ah, fuck baby! See what you do to me?” Namjoon huffed, slamming tirelessly into you. Dark strands of hair started to stick on his dampening forehead.

“Ohhh! Fuck-k.” You stuttered out as the tension between your hips began to build quicker than before.

“Not yet, baby.” Namjoon switched up his thrusting, sinking back onto his knees to swirl his hips stomach clenching circles that sent your head lolling back into the pillow. “Look at me, baby.”

Eyebrows pinched together in pleasure you lifted your head, lips parting at the sight of his hips rolling between your thighs. He knew what he did to you, exactly how to manipulate your body to give you both the highest range of pleasure and you couldn’t complain.

“Take your shirt off.” You bit out between labored breaths. Namjoon shot you his wide, dimpled grin before tugging his sweatshirt and undershirt off collectively by the collar. “Oh, just look at you.” You moaned, hands seeking purchase on the swells of his chest.

Namjoon let out a raspy laugh as he began thrusting into you again, “they’re all yours baby, I’m all yours.”

“All mine.” You moaned as a particular thrust earned Namjoon a burst of arousal from your cervix. Giving his pecs a squeeze you began to quicken the rock of your hips in hopes of Namjoon matching your pace, chasing the high that was just out of reach.

“Baby.” Namjoon moans as you squirm beneath him, the extra wetness nearly sending him over.

“Ahh fuck, Joona. So close already.” You bite your lip as your insides start to seize.

“Oooh, not yet.” Namjoon’s head whips to the side again and you hear him take a deep inhale through his nose in an attempt to ward off his own orgasm.

“Joonie!” Your hips buck desperately into his as you threaten to spill over.

“Fuck it.” Namjoon lets loose, in a way he has only done a handful of times out of fear of hurting you. His powerful body working into yours vigorously.

“Joon!” You cannot hold back any longer and your body succumbs to pleasure-racked tremors, incoherent cries falling from your lips. “Oh fuck, I’m -ahhh.”

“God-” he thrusts in entirely, filling you up with a mind-bursting stretch and retreating with a swirl of his hips “fucking-” another thrust “damn!” Namjoon’s hips still on his final moan as he empties into you, the aftershocks of your orgasm squeezing his pulsing cock through it.

You let out an enamored laugh as he crumbles into you, hands rubbing up his damp back as the slick on his chest dampens the front of your sweatshirt.

“That was a hell of a good morning, Namjoona.” You sigh deeply, every corner of your body warmed and malleable in its post-climax glow.

His head lazily raises to meet your eyes, “I’d say that is the only way you should be woken up in the morning.”

With a laugh, you pull his lips to yours for a deep kiss.

"What are you laughing about?" His voice vibrates against your lips, as you feel his pinching up in a smirk.

"You looked like a superhero with the blankets wrapped around your shoulders when you first woke me." Your eyes gaze into his warmly.

He quirked a single brow at you, "I'd say I am definitely the anti-hero of this story, baby." You let out a squeal as he buries his stubbled chin into the sensitive spot of your neck. Recapturing his lips with an echoed moan as you both feel him shift inside of you, stiffening for round two.

"You can be my anti-hero any day, Kim Namjoon."

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ewanmitchelll · 4 months

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Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (XVII): Anti-Hero.

Imagine Aemond is the King of Westers when you, a Greyjoy, rebel against his rule on behalf of a pretender to the throne.

Warnings: lots of drama, angst; smut, fluff ending like always.

***

•I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser. Midnights become my afternoons when my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room.

Just as Aemond lands, rain begins to fall. Storms usually bring bad omens, but he takes his time in going back inside. He knows he’s expected and yet the prince has no need to rush inside.

His hair is soaked as well as his leather robes. Nevertheless, he acts as if he’s been barely touched by the foul weather. Iron doors are pushed so Aemond walks inside. The moment he does Ser Criston Cole greets him.

“I salute you, lord. It appears you bring me bad news.”

“Has my grave look delivered it?”

Aemond doesn’t show him any emotion.

“The king lays in his deathbed and has requested your presence.”

Tragedy has marked the few years since his older brother won his crown upon the longer period of time spent fighting Rhaenyra and her children. Madness followed when sweet Helaena went on her free will to the grave once the twins were bitterly deprived of their lives.

Because Lucerys had to be avenged for what Aemond caused. Their mother, some would whisper, did not last longer either. Victory came when most of the greens were buried and the blacks were dead and gone.

Now all that has remained is Aemond, recently a widower after his lady wife, the unpopular Alys Rivers, died in childbirth, preventing the greens to continue their lineage since their unborn child never breathed their first breath.

He tries not to dwell in the dark waters of the past if he does not wish to be drowned in the worst depression that could make any sane man sink into it.

But a path of blood has led him to this moment. One that he always desired. At what cost, though?

“I shall see him. No need to show me the way.”

Ser Criston doesn’t seem pleased with the cold remark of the prince who has been like a son to him, but the knight knows his place and lets him be.

Aemond soon takes the stairs and in this state, he walks to his oldest brother’s privy chambers. Once he gets in, unannounced, the silver haired prince is surprised by the bad smell that comes in.

It’s the smell of death.

“Brother”, the ghostly, pained voice reaches his ear in a most unpleasant way.

Aegon II is prostrated unhealthily in bed, the opposite of what his young self used to be. The weight of the crown costed much, but no price was high enough to restaure his sanity, health or, worse perhaps, his glorious past. In his eyes, there is nothing but the disgrace of another kinslayer, consumed by remorse.

A terrible sight to behold.

“My king”, he bows his head.

“Even in my darkest hour you are tied to formalities”, Aegon snarls in disdain. “It should have been you here, not me.”

“Time has always been a great thief, on that we agree, but do not think the shadow of death will not be casted upon me”, responds Aemond in a whisper.

“I should have been wiser”, says Aegon with eyes blurred by tears. “The older I grew, poorer were the decisions made.”

Aemond doesn’t know what to respond, opting for silence. In truth, he’s always been more of a soldier than a general. Always one to follow orders than give them. Or perhaps the civil war has led him to shape this perspective of himself.

“What good is there to think of what should or could have been done? The past is there for a reason.”

“How can you be so cold?!”

“I am being reasonable, logical even. Where is the need of being sentimental when pointing facts?”

“The woman whom you fought so hard has died! And here you are!”

Out of respect for the dying king, Aemond doesn’t pick this battle to fight. Not again. Not now.

“The crown is yours to use. But there is one thing you must be told before I’m gone…”

Aemond steps closer now, accustomed with the bad smell. The heat of the fireplace seems unwelcoming now that he’s friends with the cold.

“Yes?”

“Not every kin has perished in the war”, he murmurs.

“What the hell are you talking about?”, this is the first time in a while that Aemond has shown some emotion.

Aegon smirks at his brother, pleased to get him some reaction.

“Two of Rhaenyra’s sons are living”, but for some reason the dying king thinks it’s not his problem to give Aemond their whereabouts. Or perhaps this is remorse for all that he’s done.

Who knows? Who could tell what’s in his mind?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

“I am not”, and as if he is suddenly tired of living, Aegon coughs.

Aemond spots blood in his brother’s mouth, but by now his heart and mind are divided in between genuine concern over Aegon, his last remaining family, and the whereabouts of possible pretenders to his throne.

“Aegon…”

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, brother.”

That being said, Aegon’s life has been turned into nothingness. The old king is dead. Long live the new king.

***

• I should not be left to my own devices. They come with prices and vices. I end up in crisis (tale as old as time). I wake up screaming from dreaming. One day I'll watch as you're leaving 'cause you got tired of my scheming (For the last time)…

You stand in black leather robes by your father’s side the moment a messenger enters the great salon. Outside waves hit the shore violently, announcing a tempest that has been forming in the past twenty and four hours. Clouds have been obscuring the skies, but only by this twilight they’ve been producing electric sounds.

A lightening is heard.

“Well, lord. Under hospitality laws you are welcomed in this household”, says the chieftain of the House Greyjoy. “What news do you bring us?”

The messenger inspires some sympathy in you. He’s younger than your youngest brother and appears to have been made of summer. He knows naught of the perils that coming to Pyke might indulge him. But to his fortune Lord H/N Greyjoy is the head of the House at the moment, which means that he knows the aforementioned laws and would never harm a messenger.

“We have a new king”, by his accent you know he comes from a mid noble house of King’s Landing. “Aegon, second of his name, has died and transmitted the crown to his successor. His brother, lord Aemond Targaryen, is now the new king.”

“Ah”, says Lord H/N, playing with the knife. “A usurper following another usurper. Why does he care about us, often ignored by most Targaryens? Is he familiar that our laws somewhat differ even though we have been paying tribute and homage to them for a while?”

The poor messenger is sweating cold. You think wise to interfere when Lord H/N smiles benevolently.

“Young man, as bad reputed as my house is, we are honorable. At least I like to think my kin and I are. The laws of hospitality mean a great deal to us. But I appreciate the message you delivered us. I presume this means Lord Aemond is expecting that we submit to him as our overlord and king.”

The boy swallows again in relief. You see he’s considering correcting your father for the misuse of titles, but opts not to ruin his fortune.

“Aye, lord. The time to pay homage is soon.”

“Indeed it is”, your father strokes his chin. “These are the days I miss King Viserys. Many took him for a fool, but peacekeeping is the product of hard work. This is what made him a good king. And His Grace respected us, the houses that made his reign proper to rule.”

Then he stands, indicating the time to talk has come to an end.

“Tell lord Aemond that we recognize no king but the one who attends the name of Aegon III, son of the formidable Lord Daemon Targaryen and the queen who should have been, Rhaenyra.”

The warning is done. When the messenger leaves, you pity the poor lad’s fate. As you see the wind whirling against the sea, you say:

“The bad omen is sent by the God.”

It’s your elder brother, your father’s heir, who says:

“What do you understand of such things?”

You shoot him a gaze as if you are speaking with someone whose comprehension equals that of an ant.

“Great tempests like the one that’s been forming is hardly favorable. It is known.”

“A bad omen for the self pretentious new king”, you hear your father correct you. “This is our God preparing us for war.”

“War”, your brother repeats. “Was it necessary, father? We do not know whether the offspring of Queen Rhaenyra are alive.”

“They are”, lord H/N says in a tone that makes clear he knows many more things than he’s letting show. And here is how the schemes begin. “However, we must test the new king’s forces.”

Looking at you, his favored daughter, the head of Pyke says:

“Take with you a great number of men. You do well in tempests like this. The new king will assemble his army, but he’s not foreseeing our attack against his shores, assuming we are going to Lannisport again.”

You nod, unquestioning. Another brother, however, meddles:

“Is it prudent to underestimate the usurper, sire? He collects epithets that make quite a powerful sobriquet.”

“Words as those are meant to break fools by creating unreasonable fear of a man who is just that: a man.” And giving you a look, he says: “You may go.”

You hide away your fears, taking his orders. Unlike your brothers, you don’t question your father and you have no taste for blood. Though sensitive you may be—grieving the loss of your sister springs ago when she was forced to marry a green partisan only to die in childbirth and that of your mother by melancholy made you deal with your rage through violent seas—, you hide away your true self off the eyes of others.

Despite the beauty that brings admirers to your side, iron is set above it so though you never caused any death directly, you had enough power to bring it—which only means how fearful to some you can be, not to mention the protection and favor you have of the family.

Now here you are with the men under heavy rain. It’s time to scheme. Despite the bad feeling you bear with you—the fights you won previously during the civil war for the blacks usually occurred in calm sea, not amidst violent waves—, what else is there to do but to obey your father and overlord?

You turn at the ship and instruct your loyal men to follow you. But you do not enter in it before praising the God you serve and yelling after taking a long sip of wine:

“What is dead may never die!”

***

• It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me. At tea time, everybody agrees. I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Aemond’s coronation may have happened with no issues, but brought vices of temper that were not sufficiently tamed during his days of prince. One of which was the obsessive search for the lost sons of Rhaenyra.

Amidst this inconclusive search, the wolves of Winterfell are threatening to revolt at the same time the Krakens of Pyke delivered the message of subtle warning of war.

In spite of the circumstances, he is more than acutely aware of the fragile state of his kingship. This is the time to show his subjects he is not like Aegon.

Nay. He is better.

All the whilst the whereabouts of his nephews remain inconclusive and unknown, Aemond concentrates in issues that expect pragmatism of his part.

The North can still be dealt with the use of diplomacy and he sends his Hightower cousin to Winterfell with gold and an arrangement that works for his cause—presumably a match between a daughter of Lord Cregan and his envoy himself since Aemond has no desires in remarrying.

However, the Greyjoy assault assumes preoccupying colors. What could possibly lead an old house to open rebel against his rule?

“This is easy to resolve”, he shares his thoughts with Ser Criston Cole. “Their fleet will burn with fire and blood.”

Aemond does not fantom how the glory of his moment, albeit with a bloody path that brought him there, can be eclipsed by the refusal of a general acceptance of his rule.

Leaving personal vanities aside, cleaning his judgement of probable vices, the new king understands that the civil war of years ago has not yet been put to an end.

As he watches from the Red Keep the storm outdoors, calmly and steadfastly, a part of him comprehends that he may not be the best loved king time has witnessed and the pen of the maesters registered, but duty is what will always impel him to do what’s best.

If those will not see it through his good, may they see through his worse.

You cling onto optimism under the advantage that this is a surprise attack well coordinated, not a spontaneous sack in search for gold, nor an occasion fighting with random pirates.

This is not, however, a mere thirst for adventure being satisfied. The purpose, although ignored by you in great measure, is bigger than what your reason can conceive.

Perhaps you lack ambition to fight your wars, to be manipulated by your father like your brothers accuse him of doing—but what other choice do you have? He’s never treated you unkindly nor forced you upon an unwanted marriage, giving you liberty to do as it pleased you as long as you’d not forget your duties to your house.

You had your mother and your sister to tame your worse tendencies—whether to be slaved by the passions of the flesh or under the sins of pride—, some of which you’ve learned to repress. Now, however, you are where you belong. In the midst of chaos.

You do not like to fight it or to shed blood. To waste lives is a purpose you take no pride of. But leading others to it… or letting them choose to do what circumstances impel them to do so… this is what you are born to do. This is what makes most men fear you, comparing you to your father.

But they don’t see that, underneath this iron, there lies something pure and good. Sensitive. Aiming to be seen, aiming to be truly free of the duty that ties you to your family.

For however loved or useful you may be to your father, you are still under his command. Even here, even now.

However, it would have been prudent to question it, to have followed your instincts. For you have forgotten, or perhaps not have been told, that a storm never stopped King Aemond of flying his great legendary beast.

Waves clash against the ships, threatening to drown the men in them, or perhaps, as you hopefully attempt to see, leading you all to your destination.

But you miss a great shadow following above clouded skies. The night looks longer and deadlier, specially when it’s heard a roar right when a lightening bolt hits the ocean.

It doesn’t take long before you and your men pale as a shadow of the largest creature you’ve ever put your eyes on is casted upon the ship. You yell orders to separate the ships, with each carrying a beast to put it down.

The rain is too strong now and thus muffles your commands. To worse all, fire comes from above. Two of your ships are gone. You try not to succumb to your fear, soon leading the ship yourself. The desperation of your men is heard, but you try not to let the sound shake your core to join them in frustration.

Some of them opt to jump into the arms of the Drowned God and you cannot blame. But as you try to flee out of the dragon’s grasp, to your dismay you spot an outstanding number of fleet coming to your direction.

You flush violently.

“Fuck, we are ruined! This mission has been…”, your voice dies out. What is there to say? Has your father sent you to a trap?

“What should we do, lady Y/N?”, the second in command asks you.

“Never surrender”, your pride takes the iron shield back to surface. “If we must die, so be it.”

Aemond, however, has other plans. Despite burning and leading his own men to suffocate your rebellion before it reaches land, he wants to imprison the leader of it, which means you.

Soon, your ship is bombarded—and you watch as the king’s men slay all of yours, but you.

“Why are you sparing me?”

To no avail you seek death or protest. As if you are nothing, Lannister men hold you tight, removing you from the wrecked ship. By then you do not know whether you are weeping or the rain is washing your face. What difference is there?

You understand death is coming to you soon or later. Realizing that gives you strength, but paradoxically descend into melancholy.

***

• Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I'm a monster on the hill too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city, pierced through the heart, but never killed…Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

Aemond’s victory upon the two threats against his rising reign leaves him comfortable to deal with upcoming events. Whilst there is no indication that only the names of his nephews are alive in the memory of his enemies, with no bodies found he focus in the real threats and these have been placated.

But curious in meeting the leader of what he judges to be a piracy house, he expects to see you soon. Barely he knows, as well as you, what will result of this.

In the meantime, as comfortable as you are in new robes and in fancy quarters of the Red Keep, protected from the storm that is still daunting outdoors, you have your nightmares to deal with.

The sounds of the men screaming as they either embraced death willingly or were deprived of their lives with inutile resistance bend you to your tears. Never before you felt so weak for loving the sea, the wilderness in it.

What hurts more is the realization you were not born to be a soldier. A part of you always expected to be equal your brothers, but your failure shows precisely that you are not like them.

Lost in your contemplations, you are trying to think of a solution about leaving the place when you are surprised by the presence of no one but the king himself.

Aemond has no time to waste in delegating useless tasks that he can do it himself. Thus it is this anxious warlord comes to the chambers he located you.

Whilst he stands there, you and him share a silent stare. The silver haired prince is significantly taller than you, possessing, as you first notice, a long sword in his right side and a dagger in his left. The idea that he came protected to meet you almost makes you smile.

“What reason is there to your lips twirl in a smirk? You have no reason to commemorate”, his husky voice assaults your troubled mind, forcing you to focus on him.

“You came alone to meet me, lord king. Armed. Do I pose you enough danger for that?”

Aemond takes a seat before you. His good, lilac eye studies you intently. Despite feeling crimson paint your cheeks, you do not look away.

“You think too high of yourself, lady Y/N Greyjoy. I suggest you to know your place.”

You fold your arm, mockery rising to your eyes.

“Please, lord. Enlighten me what place is this when you have no morals to speak in such terms.”

Aemond is patient. And unlike many of the men that crossed your path, not tempted to easily demonstrate or slip into his temperament.

“I wear the crown and impose a defeat on your feeble attempt to overthrow me, lady Y/N. It is unwise to dictate the rules of this game.” And then he adds. “A game that you perhaps have not been prepared to play. Has your good father not instructed you on it properly? By the sounds of your defeat, I guess not.”

You clench your jaw. Despite the broken pride and the heat in your throat that might vert in unwelcoming tears, you hold back the instinct of throwing your hands around this king’s neck and break it.

But you’ve never been one back to violence, have you?

“Has the cat eaten your tongue?”

You stand at last.

“Why coming to insult me so freely? Kill me if you must, lord king. One less enemy to humiliate!”

Aemond too stands, hands contrived in his back.

“Nay”, he speaks in almost a whisper. “The rules are not yours to dictate. Besides, with your supporters dead, I have a guess that your father will not come for you.”

With a side smirk, he leaves you. Victoriously so. And as he closes the door, there locking you in, the prince hears your screams.

But he wonders what to do with you. This is not a typical rebel, nor a natural leader who easily inspires dissent. A soldier. The word brings him back to his memories when, as the right hand of King Aegon, his brother, he did what you are doing now. Obeying orders.

Intrigued by this comparison, he goes back to your quarters after he finishes dinner. Unannounced, he surprises you combing your long y/c hair, wearing a white night gown. As you readily stand before the noise of opening door, he sees not only fear behind your eyes… but comes to notice the strong firm breasts the silk poorly disguises.

However, to his own sake he best not to look too much in you.

“What are you here for, lord king?”, you ask away, throwing robes over your shoulders. “I-It’s too late for a visit and I shall not be your whore.”

Your words, much to your dismay, make him chuckle. Aemond pulls a chair and there sits, holding your uncomfortable gaze still.

“Despite the inappropriate hour, I had to speak with my lady”, says he.

“What for?”, you retort, still at a corner like a frightened animal.

“I will do no harm to you, Y/N Greyjoy. I am not my brother”, he clenches his jaw, waving his hand dismissively. “All I want is talk. You have my word.”

You hesitate and Aemond sees distrust in your eyes. He doesn’t blame you for this behavior. Now wondering what he’d do if his sister’s forces had captured him many moons ago, he comes to think he’d behave similarly. If not more rudely.

Eventually you cede and take a distant seat of him.

“Well?”, you say, anxious. “Speak your terms.”

“I did not come to bargain”, Aemond smirks. “Why, as a victor, would I do so?”

“I am not your trophy, lord king”, you frown your eyebrows in clearly displeasure. “Either send me home or execute me. Other possibilities are out of consideration.”

Aemond is entertained by how your pride takes the reins of the situation. Ignoring what you just said, he proceeds rather cautiously.

“You are a soldier.”

On that you don’t see it coming. You tilt your head and had not it been for a few scars over your eyebrows and on your neck, besides the calloused hands, he’d take you as a princess.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Patiently, the king explains.

“You were following orders to bring your men here. When we captured you, I’ve already had some informations about you. You are the only daughter of Lord H/N of Pyke, but hardly as skillful as your brothers… at least where bloodshed is concerned. You have a tender heart and even when you sack or pile you tend to have mercy on your enemies.”

You look at him in between astonishment and embarrassment.

“You planted a spy at my father’s household.”

Aemond’s lips twitch in a smile.

“You are clever, my lady.”

You feel a strange urge to weep, but you blink a few times, refusing to cede to it.

“I will not ask why. You’ve been counting on that, haven’t you? But seeing I am useless to my father, why keeping me here at your mercy?”

“I do not think you are useless to him. On the contrary”, Aemond rests his hand over his knee. “I know how cherished you are for him.”

“You are using me to bring out my family and defeat it publicly. My House will stand, lord.”

“There are many ways a House can perish, lady. But this is not about it. Disregarding what you may have heard about me, I was a soldier like you. Obeying orders blindly without questioning. However, I was born to hold a sword. You, perhaps, to command.”

Silence hangs in between the two of you. Aemond sees the value you have for your family, but what surprises him is that you don’t share the perspective.

They see the beauty in you, not the iron that lies underneath.

A thought he doesn’t find convenient to share. He stands, having collected enough for his judgement.

You watch as he stops by the door. He knows you have the urge to beg him to spare your family. It is an instinct that many would have in your position. But because you know that he studied you well, you say nothing.

You turn your back on him, disappointing your captor for sparing him of temperamental exhibition.

***

As days turn in weeks, you have been forced to deal with eminent loss of the main purpose that has led you there. Serving your family has not only brought you disgraces or exposed your fragilities to your enemies, but comes to nothing when no news of your father or brothers searching to avenge you reach you.

“A soldier is replaceable, whether by blood or not”, says Aemond.

This evening you two are dining together at his privy royal chambers. You realize the king is a lonely man with unseen scars. Like you.

“You have offended my honor and disgraced my pride”, you speak softly as you take wine to your lips. It’s sweet and part of you wishes it to be poisonous. “Until when do you intend to break my spirit?”

When Aemond raises his eyes to meet yours, your soul is perturbed. You wish you could look away, but not even vengeance is a scheme tolerable by your mind now.

“Despite the circumstances, I wish you had not seen me as such”, he speaks behind the glass he takes to his lips. “I believe there’s much to gain in here.”

“What’s there to gain?”

“Liberty.”

“By what means?”

No answer comes. As you now start to study him, you come to see him as not the villain many folks had moulded him to, but not the hero either. Somewhere in between.

Aemond doesn’t say. Silence again hangs in between you, but this time it has not the same shades of awkwardness.

By the end of the dinner, he is leading you back to your quarters. He sees that you still shake when he takes your hand.

“Lady Y/N…”

You look at him, deprived of your pride.

“Y-Yes?”

“This would all be different had you not openly rebelled against me on behalf of phantoms. I sought about the whereabouts of the princes myself and didn’t find them. Why letting yourself be the pawn of others game?”

You lower your eyes so he doesn’t see the depth of melancholy that has hammered these questions long ago, but the king lifts your chin, there gently holding it.

“What other choice did I have? You, of all, should understand what is like to be tied to the family. Have you never sacrificed anything for them?”

Aemond contemplates you in silence, words that echo that fatidic night where his mother claimed Lucerys’s eye for the loss he suffered.

“I have”, he admits. “More than you will ever know.”

A ghostly smile is seen forming shyly on your lips.

“Then we are not different. Soldiers, like you said.”

And then you stop by the door. Looking back at him, you find the king staring at you. Why, this time, does his intent stare shake you? Why do the parallels between you two bring something more?

Worse is, why does your prison doesn’t feel like one anymore?

***

Aemond leaves the council, certain that no more rebellions will spread. There had been no more words from Pyke, though he’s more than aware that the remaining of your brothers might attempt something in not a near future for he’s been informed that they plan another sack at Lannisport.

In that order, he instructs his spy to pay enough gold to have the Greyjoys protecting the bays of Westeros if they occasionally let go of supporting names that are nothing but a memory of days long put to rest.

However, a question remains: what to do with you?

***

You are allowed to walk freely through the castle. At first this intrigues you. As you love the unknown, you occasionally lose your fear as you start to explore this new environment.

But when going to the gardens and there spotting the sea, your heart aches. As you contemplate those calm waters, you wonder why your father had sent you in such a suicidal mission. He knew you had won previously in placid seas. It was never prudent to combat in ugly storms.

Such are your thoughts that you do not see him coming. Aemond has realized that for a long while he hasn’t come to enjoy a feminine companion, gotten now used to you.

Like a hawk in guard, he sets his good eye to scrutiny over you. This time, your beauty captivates his sight. Your y/c hair, falling down to the mid of your back, is only partially tied according to the local fashion; he notices it’s cleaner and better brushed too. As the sun lights on it, it makes it shine in almost a different shade of y/c.

The gown you dress is silk made and it slips delicately in your body, shaping your curves. Aemond’s good eye notices your hips, how firm they are. He thinks you look good in red and black, the colors of his house. This perception makes him smirk unconsciously.

Feeling you have been under observation, you promptly turn in defense mood, admonishing yourself for letting your guards down, until you see it’s the king, your captor, who’s been the observer.

“Staring is rude”, you do not know how else to greet him and curtsying is not an option; this means that you are subduing to his authority, and as much as you are thankful for his clemency to you, you still have your pride.

Aemond notices it, which amuses. Nothing different that what would have he done, had he been in your shoes.

“Not greeting your king properly is as well”, he remarks. “I thought that even the Greyjoys had some manners.”

You scoff at him in defiance.

“Who do you take us for? Barbarians?”

“No”, Aemond wrings his hands behind his back in his usual composed posture. “Only a folk who is often on combat with their own kin when not assaulting other shores.”

“Please”, you snarl in response. “Says the one who came to power after murdering a few of his own kin.”

Any sign of humor dissipates of the king’s eyes. Darkness casts its shadow upon his face and your smirk is instantly wiped off yours. You instantly regret saying it so, even though you cannot understand why.

“Do not speak of matters that you don’t understand”, the king addresses you in a cold tone.

“Then you should not judge a life that you never lived.”

No one admits defeat. Pride takes victory, thus separating one from the other. For the moment.

***

But your remorse begins to hammer against your conscience. You know if you wanted to make your way, you would. Perhaps seducing the king to buy your ticket to liberty.

As days turn into months and these begin to slowly turn into another year, no signs of the Greyjoys in avenging you shows that there is no point in going back home.

Have you been tamed? You fear to find the answer. It’s when you come for him.

“I need to find His Grace”, you ask Ser Criston, his closest advisor.

The knight looks down upon you and you detest to feel small by this man’s gaze. I’m still a Kraken’s daughter. But you keep the thought to yourself.

“He’s occupied at the moment.”

Sounds come from the king’s bedchambers and you narrow your eyes at what you hear. Why are you flinching upon hearing these scandalous noises?

You do not answer the knight. Lifting your chin, you storm out, perhaps prompted to do something very impulsive.

Which is, for now, getting yourself drunk. Now familiarized with the kitchen and collecting a few friends amongst the servants, you get yourself some good bottles to yourself.

“I do not think wise that you should drink alone, my lady”, a maid responsible to look after you named Gisla tells you concerned.

“Who cares if wine takes my breath away, dear? I am forsaken by all, a prisoner whose life turned into dust.”

As you lock yourself in your bedchambers, you get to wonder why the possibility that the king has found lovers to warm his bed should affect you.

Trying to dissipate these uninviting thoughts, you begin to unlace the gown he gifted you, ready to toss it in fire. Pouring wine in the glass, you try to release your caged spirit in the best way you can.

Now wearing nothing more than undergarments, you open the window in search of fresh air. Moon rises high at sky and when looking at the reflection it casts down the sea, melancholy strikes again.

Having calmed your temper, you start to reason with yourself. Who are you now? A memory that remains, a survivor long forsaken? As you taste the sweet flavor of red wine—Dornish, you are sure—you don’t see the king getting to your chambers.

Aemond is dressed in his usual robes, but looking somehow less than a royal. He throws his cape at the seat, his good eye scrutinizing over your melancholy. Almost twelve months have passed and somehow one remains unreachable for the other.

Under moonlight, he spots a free spirit caged. A woman born to rule, his other half in another life if defeat was meant to him. He did to her what others would do to him. And he realizes how unjust he was.

To secure his throne, he did what he must. But growing used to you, he refuses to let you go. The mere thought of you abandoning him is… unacceptable.

Nevertheless, the king wishes to compensate you. Desire arises, sparked by perhaps his utmost selfishness in keeping you with him.

Or perhaps you are only a gift by the Gods to put an end to this misery. His head is heavy with the crown he wears, a burden that tests his limits and feeds his ambitions.

Yet, all is set aside when he looks at you. Slowly he comes behind you. Sensing an enigmatic presence behind you, you abruptly turn only to find him this close to you.

“Lord king! Your Grace!”, you exclaim out of short breath.

“I see we are welcomed properly now, my lady”, he never noticed until now how deep your y/c eyes are, as if sea is calling him. “I have missed you.”

You scoff, trying to find a way out of his arms, but Aemond doesn’t let you to.

“Will you please let me go?”

“Nay. I was prepared to do so, but I am a selfish man, Y/N. I care about you.”

You clench your jaw, frustrated. So many men have been pushed away, despised and looked down by you, but this king… When you look up, you are trapped.

“You care not!”, your voice betrays your spiritual state. “You have been whoring!”

Aemond’s eye twinkles with amusement. He is now holding your wrists as he pushes you against the wall, his knee gently parting your legs. You feel a strange ache burning your womanhood, rising to your chest.

“What makes you think I was?”

His long, slander pale fingers wrap around your fingers, eyeing your chest with lust, perceiving the hardened nipples under the white nightgown you dress. Then he raises his eyes only to meet your inexpressible face completely red.

“I… It doesn’t matter how I think when it’s a fact”, you try to protest, but it dies incomplete in your throat the moment Aemond gently rubs his knee against your entrance.

You should not enjoy this, but by the Kraken, here is no ordinary man.

“And if it was? Why would you care?”, he is pleased to find some reaction in your eyes at the moment he speaks with his husky voice, a positive effect of him over you.

“I don’t”, you squeak as he continues doing what he’s been doing with his knee.

“Deny me, then. Send me away the way you sent your suitors all before”, Aemond defies you, aroused as you begin to rub against his knee, willingly this time.

Eyes locked in one gaze, no one is ready to surrender. Yet.

“My king should know better whom you speak to.”

“One day you’ll wake up with regrets if I leave.”

You move closer to take hold of his long face, fingertips daringly touching his cheeks, up to his eye—but despite your staring you don’t touch the eye patch. Letting them slip to his silvery hair, wrapping your fingers around his locks, pulling him closer to you.

“Will you dare to leave me, Aemond Targaryen?”

His eyelashes barely open as his lips remain close to yours, his left hand holding your waist as his right one leaves your neck, slipping vaguely and purposely over your breasts before resting over your waist.

“Will you stay, Y/N Greyjoy?”

When you dare to remove his eye-patch, Aemond surprises you by not fighting away your curiosity. Knowing how this means he trusts in you, it’s enough to knock down every other barrier you’ve held up to him.

“Must be exhausting to repress your sentiments to this anti-hero”, he stares at you intently.

“It is”, you gasp, spreading your legs as his hand finally moves under the skirt of your nightgown. But he doesn’t make to your core, not yet, which makes you mewl.

Aemond side smirks at you, waiting to bend you to his will. You barely breathe, but this time you turn the tables by letting another hand finding the way to his pants.

“My lady!”

“You did not take me as a damsel, did you?”, you chuckle, even though he sees you are misleading in your eyes.

In truth, as you feign a confidence you don’t have, all you did was having a limited experience with men. So you did know some things as he can tell by the form your fingers skillfully unlace his pants and…

“Shit!”, Aemond curses.

You giggle quietly, appreciating the mix of shock and libidinous in his wide-eyed gaze. It feels good to have his length throbbing against your hand, how you manage to have him under your control.

It feels so good to deflect him to you, to have captured your captor.

“Gods…”, his moans are sensually low, the pleasure stamped in his features making you wet in your legs.

What is meant to be an instrument of domination is now domineering you. And oh you want more… But then, you stop.

“Y/N…” Aemond groans in between annoyance and disbelief.

“I cannot do this”, you say, detesting to break the spell, but then…

He gives you a quizzical look, perhaps thinking many possibilities of why you are doing this to him after he let himself be so crudely open to you.

Precisely why you are surprising him again when you tell him.

“I am not your whore, Aemond. You either make me your wife and queen, or my life ends right here, right now”, you indicate with your head in direction to the opened window. “I am a Kraken’s daughter. I am the sea, I cannot be caged for longer.”

Maybe it’s the wine, but you are scarcely afraid of holding back a character that hasn’t fitted you for long.

“I grew to love you and even though I am forsaken by my family, more painful would be if I were deserted out of your heart.”

Aemond’s features sooth before your words. Indeed he’s been taken by surprise, a deed few would have claimed to do.

“You could have said this earlier”, says he, shortening the distance between you two, cupping your face with his. “I meant not to dishonor you, my lady.”

“I was afraid you would not…”

“…love you?”, he chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “I fucking do. Hence why I said I’m not prepared to let you escape. I cannot do so. And I am ready to make you my queen.”

One smile is enough to firm the peace between hearts in array.

***

• I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero…

Aemond admires the wild beauty that sleeps next to his side. His queen, at long last announced before the whole realm notwithstanding the disapproval of his council, his wife.

He begins to kiss your face, before burying his face against your hair. No more sorrow when your sea salt scent envolves him in a jolt of happiness never before experienced… not before Alys.

No more past to daunt his heart and torment his mind as his tongue slips to your ear, biting your earlobe and sliding to your neck, his hand pressing against your waist. His eyes remain glued at your peaceful, serene face, despite the shivers that begin on your skin and, as he discreetly pulls off the blankets, sees the exposed nipples hardening.

Aemond is careful not to wake you yet. Admiring your nude frame as his lips move to your neck, he keeps in mind the events of the day before. No protest came from Pyke as one of them is crowned their queen. But you are still resented to write them letters, despite the efforts of your brothers in renewing a direct alliance with the crown—to the Lannisters’ preoccupation.

The king is not here to please anybody, but you. He recollects how beautiful you were in a green, silk gown, appropriated for summer feasts. His mother’s tiara was placed above your head, and your hair down reinforced your sparkling beauty.

As his mouth leaves bruises against your skin, you move lightly, making incomprehensible noises. Aemond smirks, slowly turning over your body, always careful when doing so.

Contemplating your nudity under his gaze, he recollects the night before—and the nights beforehand where he took you as his wife, never able to leave your body, remembering how you mewled under his touch, how humbled you were when you begged.

“My lady likes to be commanded in bed”, he said in the occasion.

“Only you has possessed this right”, so you snapped in between short breaths.

Smiling at the retrospective moment, his lips now move delicate to mouth out your nipples, finally awaking you as his fingers move down to your womanhood.

“Oh Aemond!”, you cry out in pleasure, eyes open with despair, as your body reacts like a big wave sets to hit the shore violently.

“Yes, my lady?”, he takes his time in each nipple until your cries get louder, all the whilst his now two fingers make way deep inside you, already familiar with the walls that clench around it, the spot that is soon making you call his name.

And then…

“I need you!”, you whimper.

Your wishes are prompted complied. What a good way to start your tenure, you remember thinking. When looking at you, Aemond Targaryen knows he is not merely a king, but a man who finally found love in his lifetime.

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one eyed #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #taylor swift #anti hero #midnights

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bibiwrld · 8 months

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SIMILAR!| MIGUEL O’HARA

★ Miguel O’Hara x Black fem anti-hero! [OC]

★ Before reading: I don’t speak Spanish, sorry for any mistakes made.

—Synopsis: A new face suddenly arrives at Nueva York, working at Alchemax, catching Miguel O’Hara’s eye and helping the Spider Society with catching villains and anomalies..well sort of.

previous: –five.

–six.

THIRD PERSON POV

“Did I say throw a punch like an old hag with fucking arthritis?” Miguel snarled, weaving Miles’ punches. “Punch me!”

“I-I am!” Miles’ shouted back with an unsure look on his face, throwing another punch that Miguel easily blocked.

Miles had to be ready for today, he’s their best option for taking down White Phantom.

“Do it better!” Miguel threw a right hook.

Miles quickly dodged it by doing a backflip.

Miguel sighed, placing both hands on his hips. “Miles, we have to catch this guy today.”

Miles panted, slowly walking up to Miguel. “And we will.”

Lyla appeared in front of Miles. “ I think you did a good job, Miles.”

He smiled softly at the AI. “Thanks, Lyla.”

“I’m trusting you.” He sighed once more, looking at the young spider. “You can rest for now.”

He nodded, watching Miguel walk out.

Now at his office, Miguel sat at his desk listening to Pavitr, who was on the mission with Gwen and Hobie to bring Doctor Octavius back to Nueva York.

“She put up a fight, but she should be in Nueva York right now.” Pavitr spoke, swinging through a city.

Miguel looked at the large holographic screen of Pavitr, that was linked from his watch. He leaned back in his seat, satisfied with the younger spiders work. “Good job. Get back to Nueva York asap and locate her, then report back to me once White Phantom is insight.”

Pavitr did a mini salute before his screen disappeared. “Alrighty, boss!”

“Wren texted you.” Lyla appeared with a grin.

“Oh, did she?” Miguel forced an uninterested look on his face, but deep inside he was bouncing off the walls.

“Stop acting like you don’t care, you like her, we both know you do.” Lyla could see through his bullshit.

Miguel kept his eyes on the multiple holographic screen before him, clenching his jaw at her words. “What if I do? There’s no harm in that.”

Lyla squealed, jumping around Miguel. “Text her back now!”

“I’m not texting her back because you told me to.” He hesitantly picked up his phone, staring at her text.

Wren

Are you free tonight?

He thought of all of the possible things he could possibly be doing tonight. He had to take down White Phantom, but that’s at an earlier time, then he had a mission with Web Slinger, he could always reschedule that, and he had to file mission reports, and that could be left for another night.

So yes, he was free.

I am. You need me?

Wren

Badly, at my place at 9?

He bit his bottom lip and threw his head back at her text.

“Oh my God, look at you!” Lyla laughed, her eyes wide at the way Miguel was acting, it was very rare.

“Shut up.” He sat back up, typing back to Wrenley.

I’ll be be there

Lyla watched him send the final text. “Oh you’ll be there alright.”

“It’s just sex, Lyla.” He murmured, running fingers through his hair.

She crossed her arms. “We all know, it’s more than just sex to you.”

His eyelids lowered, sinking down in his seat. She was right, it was more than sex. Maybe he started developing feelings through every interaction they had, even non sexual ones.

His watch beeped, making him alert and pulling him from his deep thoughts. It was a quick message from Pavitr.

“White Phantom.”

He stood up, his mask immediately going on. “Lyla, notify Jess that White Phantom is here.”

“On it.”

🕷️

“Get out of my way—AAGGGHHH!” Doctor Octavius glitched during an attempt to grab White Phantom with one of her robotic arms.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Octopus?” White Phantom taunted, floating in front of her. “Are you malfunctioning?”

“Now, Hobie and Gwen!” Jessica shouted to her watch.

“Got it!” Gwen swung down to Octavius, webbing her up once she stopped glitching.

“What the— you again?!” Doctor Octavius struggled in the webs.

“Hobie now!” Gwen called out, holding Doc Oc with multiple webs.

Suddenly Hobie appeared on the side of a building, pressing buttons on his watch, making a portal appear.

White Phantom floated and only watched in amusement.

Gwen jumped off the building, using all her strength to swing Doc Oc around and finally releasing her into the portal.

“I’ll be bac—” The portal closed.

“Such amazing teamwork.” White Phantom clapped.

Miguel, Jessica, Pavitr and Miles, joined Hobie and Gwen on the large street.

“Mind Crusher!” Miles shouted from below.

They all looked at him in utter disbelief.

“I really thought that one would’ve stuck with you guys.” Miles sulked.

White Phantom laughed with their distorted voice. “Oh how cute, you came up with a name for me.”

“It’s actually White Phantom.” Pavitr told them.

Hobie nudged him and shook his head. “C’mon mate.”

Pavitr quickly apologized, forgetting that they were talking to the enemy.

Miguel signaled for the spiders to move into their positions and White Phantom couldn’t but help but notice.

Chuckling, they revealed their white gloved hands. “If you think you little spiders can take me down, you’re nothing but delusional.”

“Hey!” Gwen shouted in offense.

“I don’t want to hurt any of you.” White Phantom began.

Miles turned invisible, crawling on a building that was closer to White Phantom. Now that they were distracted, Miles could go through with the plan.

“It was never my plan to hurt any of you. I know how it feels to be scared, how it feels to lose someone you love.”

Their words touched almost all the spiders.

“I just wanted to help.”

“Well we don’t kill people.” Jessica narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not included in that ‘we’ they speak of.” Hobie added.

“Hobie.” Everyone gave him a look.

“I mean now I am apart of that ‘we’, because of rules and whatever, but I follow rules because I want to.” He rambled with his hands.

“In order for to get rid of the problem, you have to kill it.”

Miles stretched his hand out as far as he could to touch White Phantom and shock them. White Phantom’s head suddenly snapped in Miles’ direction, scaring him to the point where he almost became visible.

“I can see you little spider.” White Phantom chuckled and head butted Miles with their hard metal helmet.

The only thought that went through Miles’ head was ‘How?!’

The impact of the helmet made Miles become visible and unconscious as he fell from the building.

“Miles!” Gwen swung down quickly and caught him by his hand, then retreated to a building for him to recuperate.

Taking off his mask, she stared at the bruise in the middle of his forehead. “Miles..Miles you okay?”

Miles could barely look straight but he still managed to answer. “Y-yeah..totally.”

“Coño.” Miguel cursed under his breath, seeing that the plan didn’t work.

“After I poured my heart out, this is how you treat me?!” White Phantom shouted. “After I helped you all?! Ungrateful spiders!”

“Now they’re upset.” Jessica rubbed her stomach while straddling her bike. “Plan B?” She looked to Miguel.

“Plan B.” Miguel sighed.

The other spiders instantly knew if Plan A didn’t work: make Miles shock White Phantom until they go unconscious, then they would have to resort to plan B: Distract White Phantom until Miguel got close enough to bite and paralyze them.

Pavitr wasted no time in using his yoyo to hit White Phantom in the head. Hobie shot webs on their helmet, making them spin out of control.

Miguel hopped on the side Jessica’s bike as she drove up a building.

“You two are starting to piss me off!” White Phantom groaned in frustration, both gloved hands emerging from underneath their cloak. Using their telekinetic powers, they slammed Hobie and Pavitr into the ground effortlessly.

The sounds of a motorcycle got White Phantom’s attention. Jessica’s bike soared through the sky and Miguel jumped off, his fist instantly connecting with White Phantom’s helmet, resulting to a large crack.

White Phantom was knocked out and began falling. Miguel attached his web to a building, swooping in to catch them and landing safely.

Jessica pulled up beside him with her bike. “Are you gonna bite them?”

“Yeah, just to be safe.” Miguel answered with his rough voice, staring down at the villain in his arms. He grabbed White Phantom’s wrist, sinking his fangs deep and releasing his paralyzing venom.

“That gets creepier every time I see it.” Miles commented with Gwen by his side.

He had a crazy bruise in the middle of his forehead, but he already had a crazy story to tell his parents when they asked.

“You okay mate?” Hobie asked, but he looked more beat up that Miles.

“Yeah.” He nodded, feeling Miguel’s stare on him.

Miguel put White Phantom over his shoulder, protracted his claws, then wiped his mouth from the excess venom that dripped from his fangs, onto his chin; he hated it. “You did okay, good job everyone.” Miguel walked over to Miles and ruffled his hair, then walked off to open a portal for himself.

That meant the world to Miles, his eyes sparkling in pure happiness. Even the other spiders were shocked by Miguel’s praise.

Gwen teasingly nudged him. “Good job.”

Hobie and Pavitr gave each other a fist bump.

“Time to head back to HQ.” Jessica told the young spiders.

🕷️

Next Part: –seven.

Tags: @ohxx @thel0velykey190

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ayustuff · 2 years

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Some Imagines /w Bakugou (Smut!!!)

×Tw&Genre: Fem!Reader, Smut, Jealous Bakugo, Aged Up! Bakugo, unprotected sex, creampie& short

Bakugo who taked you on a restaurant date then gets jealous over some low class waiter who tries to flirt with you. So when you two got home he started to make out with you. He make sure he painted ―wait no he covered― your body with his cum this time. First is your face, You sucked him. Mouthfull, His dick hitting the back of your throat. Your tits on the rest of his dick that you cant suck. He cummed, his cum is all over your face it dripped on your breast then stomach. Second is your pussy, he didn't even let your pussy shape his dick. His thrust are strong and fast . Your pussy clench and you feel your orgasm builds, you cum and he cums again. Both mixture dripped on your thighs then feet. Finally your ass, same thrusts strong and fast, it burns. He cums the third time. Cum on your thighs, feet, hands, tits and face. Katsuki starts to lick your face then breast then leads to taking bath together.

▶A/N: Happy 30+ followers. T^T

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jasminerov · 1 month

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𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙡𝙮 𝘿𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙮 𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙍𝙤𝙫 𝙤𝙣 𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙥𝙖𝙙 ♥

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lexxwithbooks · 2 years

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📖: 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑅𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙 𝐸𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒 #1) ♟❄️⚽️

✍🏽: 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭

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ma3-author2 · 1 year

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NEFARIO

(Bnha x Anti-Hero Reader)

⊘𝟙

•---------•

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

The nefarious, who is known to be the most gruesome and horrifying character in all of history, has come to an end after all the heroes and even some villains defeated her. The peace has come, but sometimes peace is never there when this villain warns them of something they can't forget.

"Someday, you will see my point. And I hope you regret on not listening to me. I promise this, you will be the one standing where I am today."

Instead of screaming in anger, agony 'Nefario' said it calmly, and this made things worse for them.

Well, that was a long, long time ago, and even some people forgot about it. Some still remembered how they faced the worst and most powerful villains. Hoping that this Villain who said does words is just a bluff.

This villain they feared and stained in their minds with traumatic events has slowly and soon vanished like a cloud, as peace is indeed there, as it has been for the last fifty years. but a cloud is just a generated program, formed with the water.

And soon it will be up in the sky once again.

The name 'Nefario' woke up a long time ago, but instead of doing what she promised them, she chose to stay quiet. Why? Is because she chose something new.

"Shota! Ohayo~" Hizashi exclaimed, resting his arms around Aizawa's shoulders, during which he grumbled and told Hizashi to remove his whole body away from him. Only for another person to join them.

"Yo! Morning everyone!"

"Why am I unlucky?" Aizawa grumbled as not only one person was screaming in his left ear, but another loud person was screaming on the other side.

"Where's Y/N?" Oboro asked, not seeing where his other friend was, only to smile widely when he found her, who was now entering the class before she could greet her classmates.

She got a big squeeze from Oboro. "Hey! Morning! Why are you late again?"

"I'm not, and let go."

"Sometimes, I forget that you two have different parents." Oboro chuckled, pointing at you and Aizawa having the same reaction each morning. Who doesn't get tired when you have two loud friends who never appear to tire?

"Morning, Y/N-chan!" Hizashi is greeted with another loud sound, indicating that you just want to transfer to another class.

While making your way to your desk, which was beside Yamada. Greeting Aizawa at the same time, you can't help but wonder how you ended up going to U.A. high school when your background is that of the worst villain of all time.

Oh, right. because you can.

"Okay, everyone. I need you all to wear this and meet me outside." The teacher said she was showing the class a jumpsuit, the same one you wore when Sensei tested your quirk ability.

Though you have the most powerful quirk out there, you didn't show it all and blast it in one go. Earning you a third place on the chart. Enough to continue your day. You also meet the three friends on that ability test.

"Teach! Are we doing the test again?" Oboro ask.

"Yes, after your training and internship last week. We need to see if you improve or not."

According to what your teacher said, each one of the students showed their quirk, and each of them has the same score they had last time.

"That's Y/N-san! For you!" Oboro and Yamada exclaimed with joy that you got a high score even though it added only two points to it.

As the test goes on, all the students are tired except you and Aizawa, as you both look tired in the first place. But in regards to whose more tired looking, it will be Aizawa getting that title.

"Looks like you didn't improve that much on your quirk, except L/N. Still a good job, and on the next project we will be having a camp training."

The student groaned in response but still cheered as this was very similar to a field trip. Only for others to stop cheering when Sensei follows with a note that only those who pass the exam can

"NO! Sensei, why did you betray us like this?" Yamada whined while kneeling on the ground, followed by Oboro nodding his head in agreement. You and Aizawa, who were watching all of this, could just sigh, knowing where this will lead.

And just seeing Oboro and Yamada looking at where you stand, "Okay, I'll teach you. But you need to pay for the food."

"That's why you two are the best!"

As you four are now going back, Oboro stopped you all, "Shota! Hizashi! Y/N-san."

"Once we graduate, let's start a hero agency! I think the four of us could resolve anything. You know, since there are four of us."

"That doesn't make sense." You said you were frowning at the sudden idea of Oboro, though you'd gotten used to it as he has many of them.

"Well, even if someone makes a mistake, the other can cover for him or her. Like I said before, Shota pays attention to details. Hizashi is an expert in resolving disputes and, what's more, can make up a quick excuse."

"Oi!"

Oboro continued, "And you, Y/N-san! Like a mother hen, you always look after us. Come on, let's partner up!"

"Don't start whining if you can't make enough money." Yamada snickered but agreed to join Oboro's plan.

"You got it! What about you, Y/N-san? Shota?"

"Give me a break; I didn't even say a word," Aizawa replied, but behind that frowning face is a hint of a smile.

"I'll just stay at home," you jokingly said.

"Man, Just join me. You two! Let's partner up!"

"Sure, whatever you say."

"Yes! Starting today, why don't we make up a name?"

"Hey, Hey! We still have more than a decade to think about it. Today, why don't we get something sweet? My treat!" Yamada simply said he earned a smile from all his friends. But all of this happy memory didn't last long because, as soon as the camp training ended, followed by the Hero work-studies, it ended in a sad, sour ending.

The two friends didn't expect it; they didn't see it coming. If they knew this would happen, maybe they could have prevented it. But it was already late when everything had crushed down, and Aizawa and Yamada could be deaf and watch the destruction of the place.

They lost Y/N and Oboro during the hero internship together. The building collapsed where Aizawa and Yamada were saved by Oboro. As for Y/N, they didn't find her. The police ended the investigation, declaring that she died in the crush and that the body was underneath the ground.

Aizawa called it bullshit; not only was he angry at the authorities for declaring it and not doing their job right, but he was also angry at your parents for accepting that you were gone.

Aizawa and Yamada knew that you were alive somewhere, as they didn't see you and didn't want to think that you were indeed dead. But... maybe it was time to declare it after all the years of not finding even a hint of hair.

"Shota... I think it's time to let Y/N rest."

What they didn't know was that the girl they'd been looking for all those years was just working at a convenience store. At the same time talking to All for one.

She didn't accidentally meet him; he was the one who came for her.

"So, you've been here all this time. Why are you staying silent?"

"Because I want something new, it's gotten a bit boring doing the same thing over and over again... Only to get ignored at. So, what will you do with the body?" You said, brushing the dust off your shoulder, asking what he will do to Oboro's body and other dead bodies.

"I will use it to make a nomu, and you will be the first to witness it." It would be an honor if you were the one to see it."

"Hmm... "Before that, I want to give him a proper burial."

You're not that sick of a villain, nor doesn't have small feelings, because you also have them, even if you only knew Oboro for the years you've been in the U.A. You admire the boy, but you can't do anything now as he has already passed away.

You're not a god to relive him like you do, and maybe this is a good thing that he doesn't need to be in this sick world as it's not meant for a boy like him, maybe in another timeline.

•---------•

Before 'Nefario' went to get a job at a convenience store, or more likely, before she got one, she worked at a hero news agency.

"L/N, you're late again!"

"Sorry boss"

"One last tardy, and you're fired."

In the city of Musutafu, Japan, a small building housed an office where your job was to handle all the new hero debuts for a company that produces news about the abilities of the said hero.

There you are, typing at your laptop, putting all the information that you gleaned from the last interview with the debut hero.

"L/N-san, you are needed near the train station as the debut hero will be there and we need some information. As well as the other hero."

"Noted," It took you less than a minute to get there, and after arriving, you didn't even wait; you got out your camera as well as a recording tape.

The first thing you saw once you entered the street was people gathered in one place, one way to kill themselves. Are Watching the villain rampage through the train rail and the hero prevent him from destroying more.

As the villain is getting anxious and the hero has started to show up, he destroys a metal pole as it is nearing the ground.

"Death Arms!" Death Arm showed up in time, catching the fallen metal.

'The Punching Hero, who uses his strength for justice, What a bull of crap.' But you've got to do your job, with a quick snap coming from your camera, writing down all the information on who's who in the scene.

You were about to write the name of the hero on the front when you felt a presence next to you, eagerly wanting to see the show. A green-haired student, and for some reason, you felt something different about this kid.

'Huh, I wonder.' You chuckled, continuing to write. This boy. It reminds you of the time you fought Nana Shimura. The blonde kid who almost caught you off guard

Soon Kamui joins in the action, wanting to help, only to get stood off by the debut hero you've been waiting to show up. Who easily kicked the villain in the face, knocking him down at the same time.

She shouted the praise 'Canyon Canon' one movement in which you can't help but think of it as a joke, that they still named their movement and you seeing it as a way of disadvantage to this society.

"Today's my debut day. My name is Mt. Lady. Happy to be your Ass-quaintance" Not even a second passes when all the cameras pop out, taking her pictures from every angle.

'Mt. Lady, huh.' Just by seeing her up close, you can already analyze her weaknesses and strengths and easily defeat her under many possible circumstances, with her always at the end of every story.

But you're not a villain like before; no, you're just a normal civilian just doing your work and interviewing her like the other hero you could speak to. Well, that's what you want them to see.

Speaking of powers, in regard to them, it would never be the same as All for One or the horrifying 'Nefario' Herself, which were traumatic events for those who witnessed them. Furthermore, as power grew, so did the number of crimes.

While the country waited for new law reforms, people with courage became heroes, like in the comics. Guarding powers and protecting from evil. Heroes soon gained citizenship, and their heroism became an official position.

Based on their performance, they are rewarded. Money from the government and fame from the people are the ways in which you see it as entertainment and how the government manipulates people into thinking that way.

'Without heroes, there is no light. Huh, what a bunch of idiotic people' Some may find it bitter, but not you. It was just all nonsense, as this power they called quirk... is just saying that they can't depend on themselves without having one.

They need a quirk to join the society, to be noticed. Then what about the one who doesn't have it? They were just left out and called quirkless. People who are just ordinary just need to stay on the shelf forever.

Well, that wasn't the case with the infamous 'Nefario' as back then, the quirkless people called her a hero for letting them out of their shelves. And be called a villain when they tried to defend her.

Until now, among the pool of quirckless people Hope that one day 'Nefario' would come back and help them off their shelves once more.

"You're fired!"

Back at the office in the middle of the night, two people are in a room discussing an important matter. While everyone was already home, resting to start another tiring day.

You are still in the office, getting yelled at by your boss, who is telling you the reason why you got fired.

"You got the wrong information; this is wrong, and this. What the heck is this?"

"It's the new debut hero, Mt. Lady,"

"I see that, but the way you took the picture is all wrong!"

This is the thing you don't like about society. How they saw women as an object just because you didn't picture Mt. Lady Ass. Where you already suspect that your boss just wanted to own it himself.

"When tomorrow morning comes, I want you to pack all your things. Dismiss."

He didn't even need to say that, as you will be gone in an instant and before he could even turn around and face away from you. Which is a bad move.

"Sure do. But before I leave I bought you a present."

"Wha-?"

He didn't even get to scream; he was just in shock at what he saw. It's like he's seeing something that any other person wouldn't want to see or dream of. He doesn't know why, but after seeing it, his body moved on its own.

He finds himself on top of the building, walking at the edge of the building, and after stepping on the rail, before his eyes completely close.

Is that. He saw the most beautiful night sky full of stars that quickly turned red the mere second his body contacted the ground.

It was surprising and confusing to some people. Some thought the old dude had enough and ended his own life; some thought it was the work of a villain. But others thought it was like the same case as 'Nefario'

"The Dead Fall": no one knows when or where it will happen, and the victim is already showering in their own blood before it makes contact with the ground.

With this new information, the government quickly covered it up with a lie that they're good at. Not wanting to cause chaos, but the chaos they're preventing is already happening.

Among them. Heroes and villains

Even, quirckless people.

•---------•

How's the story so far? This is a prototype, and I wanted to see if someone wanted me to continue it.

#aizawa shota x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #mha aizawa #mha #mha bakugou #mha dabi #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #anime one shot #manga #my hero academia #my hero academy oc #my hero smut #smut #villain #anti hero

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thesistersarcheron · 2 years

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Anyway, there's a surprise in my masterlist for anyone following the Crimson Clover Elriel fic.

#surprise shawty! feysand and nessian are getting their own murder kink smut fics in this universe #and they officially have taylor swift song titles from midnights #it's officially the anti-hero series because the night court is the problem 99% of the time

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rainy-bae-roleplay · 2 years

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♡Hi, I'm Rainy ♡

♪︎Welcome to my rp/writing blog♪︎

Some things you should know before interacting with me:

I'm a 24 year old Proship writer who will only write with people 18+.

「DNI if you are」

A minor

An Anti/Antiship

A MAP

「Fandoms I write for」

Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Boku no Hero Academia

Zombieland Saga

My Dress-up Darling

VOCALOID

Pokémon (base games and Mystery Dungeons only)

Spy x Family

Love Live (μ's, Aqours, Liella!)

Kaguya-sama Love is War

Kobayashi-san's Dragon Maid

Other fandoms (just ask♡)

「What I write」

OC x OC

OC x Canon Character

Canon Character x Canon Character

Fluff

Smut

Romance (my forté)

Incest

Age Gap

Non-con

Most Proship content (just run it by me)

♪︎Thanks for reading♪︎

Please message me if you're interested in role playing with me♡

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foreverforty2 · 2 years

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So like, I’ve been meaning to hop onto my computer, where I’m logged on to AO3, so I can comment on a bunch of your fics. Particularly your original one. But I keep forgetting to, so I’ll just do it here 😊

I adored your original fic. Power imbalances (especial evil or drastic ones) are my absolute guilty pleasure. Plus your smut was top quality!!

thank you so much 🥹 !! I’m so glad people like my stories… I think my very, very favorite trope is the dark villain who isn’t actually… and I’m still wringing the shit out of that one hard, in every story I’ve written since, I think, lol. The big scary guy, the anti-villain who does bad things for a good cause, and then he cuddles the shit out of you (and fucks you) that gets me going non-stop. And I’m so glad you enjoy my smut too because I don’t know wtf I’m doing there, just writing what I like, or what I’m feeling at the time I guess 😬 (and trying to make it not suck). thanks a lot for the comment!

#thrawn #blue man hot #grand admiral thrawn #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #fanfic friends #thrawn fanfiction #female writers #fanfics #villain #anti villain #power imbalance #dark hero #thrawn smut

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amy3435 · 2 years

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🤌🏻

#taylor swift #taylors version #taylor supremacy #swifties #midnights #anti hero #mastermind #fuck the patriarchy #the eras tour #i love taylor with all my heart #blondie #smut #crying

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rp-partnerfinder · 1 month

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Hi, you can call me Storm! I'm 30 and the mom of a loud and demanding cat ❤️

I’m a multiple paragraphs/novella style writer. I love to write detailed descriptions and delve into a character’s head/emotions as well as surroundings. I compare it to writing a novel together. Not every reply has to be novella length, however. If there are action or dialogue heavy scenes, I tend to do a shorter back and forth to keep the momentum going.

I only do MxF (with me writing the female role). I don’t double, but I’m more than happy to write side characters of either gender to help move the story along. I only want female authors writing male characters as I’ve had bad experiences with cis male authors. (Trans men and nonbinary pals are exceptions).

I'm really hoping to find a friendship, someone who can add to our story, and most importantly, someone who wants a long-term connection. It's difficult for me to write with someone if I don't feel that genuine bond. It's also important to me to have a high level of activity, with at least one reply a day.

If you suddenly stop replying ic and ooc, I'll drop the story after 2 attempts of gauging interest spaced a week apart. But feel free to message me if you want to pick the story back up again, even months later.

Searching For:

20+ partners only

An excellent grasp of grammar, punctuation, spelling, and capitalization. (Literate to advanced writers only, please. I'm not looking for newbies)

Plot before smut. While mature themes will be in my writing, there needs to be chemistry between our characters. I normally do a 60/40 plot to smut ratio and my characters tend to be subs/switches depending on the circumstances

An older male character (early forties to mid-late fifties). I love the gruff and tough men with dark pasts who secretly have a soft heart. I also love grumpy, hypermasculine men being intimidated by sweet but fiery women. My characters are mid-late twenties to early-mid thirties so the age gap is legal.

Enthusiasm to chat about our character and ship, how to crush them and then gushing over fluffy moments. I love crying over characters and what the heck they’re doing. I want my heart ripped from my chest from angst, then feeling like it’s going to burst from overwhelming cuteness. I want us to love these characters and the world we create. I want to make pinterest boards, spotify playlists, graphics, and toss headcanons back and forth until late at night.

Have an idea for a scene? Found a picture that inspired you? Send it to me! Be invested when it comes to plotting/worldbuilding. There’s nothing worse than receiving one sentence in reply to two paragraphs of ideas, or having a doormat partner who says “sure” to whatever I ask. Building ideas one on top of the other, watching them snowball into amazing plot threads brings me joy. But having to pull plot ideas like I’m pulling teeth makes me think you’re not interested, and I will lose interest in return.

Interests:

Modern fantasy, monsters, sci-fi, omegaverse, southern gothic/midwest gothic (i’m a sucker for that southern/texas drawl), horror, height/size difference, cheating/affair, enemies to lovers, slow burn romance, spooky small towns, post apocalyptic/dystopia, crime/mysteries, emotionally charged/dark and gritty, bodyguard x assignment, forced proximity, opposites attract, fated mates, anti heroes/morally gray characters, traumatic pasts, grumpy x sunshine, one bed, men who simp over their women, touch her / him and die, and more.

I have lots of original plot ideas in mind as well!

Fandoms (OCs ONLY)

Star Wars, Stranger Things, Mercy Thompson Series, True Blood, The Last of Us, Hunger Games

I write only on discord using servers with organized channels. Like this post or add me on discord (magicofrain) if you’re interested. The most effective way to grab my genuine interest is by messaging me as if we've been friends for years. Please let me know which interests you liked from my ad.

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livingecho · 5 months

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𝓥˙˖* °⸻ tag dump / character based ...

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ you still want it … the inner sanctity ⅋ its an evil but the evil is necessary . ❜⎜❲ ic .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ must be exhausting always rooting for the anti - hero. ❜⎜❲ answered .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ mirror mirror on the wall i see you ⅋ my skin crawls ❜⎜❲ visage .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ did you hear my covert narcissism i disguise as altruism like some kind of congressman ? ❜⎜❲ about .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ i don't wanna feel tell me ; that im perfect ⸺ just the way i am ! ❜⎜❲ muse .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ darlin’ darlin’ doesn't have a problem lyin’ to herself cause her liquor's top shelf ❜⎜❲ aes .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ but i am in the twilight . ❜⎜❲ dash game .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ you feelings ⅋ mine are all holy but … ❜⎜❲ dash com .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ i am creation : both haunted ⅋ holy . made in glory ! ❜⎜❲ music .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ but i will trust the artist molding me ❜⎜❲ clothing .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ 🦑squidtime 🦑 ❜⎜❲ crack .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ i feel you on my fingertips . my tongue dances behind my lips for you ❜⎜❲ desires .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ i know i know i know i know my love can be … the killing kind . ❜⎜❲ smut .❳

𝓥˙˖* °⸻ ❛ can’t you see ? your world’s a fantasy ! ❜⎜❲ oneliner .❳

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bibiwrld · 8 months

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SIMILAR!| MIGUEL O’HARA

★ Miguel O’Hara x Black fem anti-hero! [OC]

★ Before reading: I don’t speak Spanish, sorry for any mistakes made.

—Synopsis: A new face suddenly arrives at Nueva York, working at Alchemax, catching Miguel O’Hara’s eye and helping the Spider Society with catching villains and anomalies..well sort of.

previous: –four.

–five.

THIRD PERSON POV

Again and again, Wrenley and Miguel have gotten more than one taste of each other.

At his apartment, in the lab, at her apartment, in a random bar bathroom, in the backseat of his car.

They couldn’t stay off of each other. They became each other’s fuck buddies, calling and texting each other in moments of distress.

Miguel, when he was swamped with work from the Spider Society, letting an anomaly slip from his grasp, or when the Spiders would simply get on his nerves. He would need her in those moments.

And Wrenley, well she was secretive, never letting anything really get to her, never letting anyone know what was wrong or letting anyone see her face it, but deep down, it cut layers through her skin, whatever it was. When she was at her lowest, her fingers would desperately tap on Miguel’s contact name to make her forget.

They both needed each other to release that feeling, to relieve that stress. How compatible they were together, knowing what each other loved when it came to pleasure.

It was just sex. Nasty, raunchy, disgustingly amazing sex.

Still, Miguel knew nothing about her. She never spoke about herself, as much she did talk when she wanted to get under Miguel’s skin, she has never let anything slip. Miguel thought her mysteriousness was sexy, but he wanted to know what else there was to Wrenley Myers. Like where she moved from, if she had siblings, her favorite color— maybe he was getting attached, but it was human to be curious, it wasn’t a crime.

Like tonight, he wanted to know a little more about her, so he invited her for ice cream, which Wrenley found strange, but how could she turn down ice cream?

They were only getting ice cream, right?

Wrong.

After ordering 2 scoops of blueberry in a cup for herself, and Miguel who got 2 scoops of rocky road on a cone, which he paid for of course— they ended up in the backseat of his car, tangled up in one another.

Miguel was 9 inches deep inside of Wrenley, stirring up her insides.

“Y-you said…fuck— you said just..ice cream.” She choked out her moans underneath his large body, squeezing her legs around his waist.

“Mhmm, I know baby.” His hips snapped into her core, staring so lovingly in her eyes. “But how could I..resist you in th-those little… shorts, hm?” He pushed back the hair that was stuck to her forehead.

She moaned out, scratching his back. Oh how it hurt so good when she clawed at him.

“Miguel.” She drawled, hugging him tightly.

She was close. She could almost taste it.

Never stopping the rhythmic movement of his hips, he held her closer in his arms, giving her a peck on the cheek. “I know baby, let it out.”

Sending her over the edge, she came on his dick, body spasming erratically with cries of Miguel’s name escaping her throat.

Miguel kept going, he was almost there, peppering kisses all over her face and whispering into her ear how good she was taking him, and how close he was and how amazing she smelt— she was driving him over the edge.

Grunting and giving one final thrust, he filled her to the brim, his body slowly collapsing on top of hers.

“Fuck.” He breathed against her chest, listening to her sped up heart beat.

Her fingers caressed his hair. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

He leaned up and shook his head with a smile.“You’re being dramatic.” He stretched to the front of the car, turning it on and putting on the AC to cool down and grabbing baby wipes to clean up.

With her legs spread wide, Wrenley pushed out his cream from her vagina, with her eyes dead set on him.

She was gonna make him hard all over again. He wiped her off, then himself, and as they were fixing their disheveled clothes, a cop siren went off behind them followed by red and blue lights.

“Shit.” Miguel groaned, trying to hurry to the front.

Wrenley followed suit and ended up in the driver’s seat.

The officer leaned down, tapping on the window.

Wrenley winded it down, looking at the male officer while leaning out the car window. “Good evening, Officer.” She batted her lashes and gave him that innocent voice.

“Good evening, ma’am.” The officer greeted with a smile and hands on his duty belt. “Can I see license and registration?”

Miguel quickly looked in the glove compartment for registration while Wrenley searched her purse for her driver’s license.

Handing them over to the officer, she spoke. “Here, this is my friend’s car, Officer.” Gesturing to Miguel.

‘Friend.’ Miguel thought to himself.

He spares a few glances at her, while scanning the documents. “Okay, can you step out the vehicle for me?”

Stepping out of the car, she put her hands up lazily, then turned around and put her hands out to balance against the car. “Am I in trouble, officer? Is it because I’m black?”

The officer stuttered, standing right behind. “N-no, of course not ma’am.”

Miguel chuckled at the officer’s response, but still looking out the window to make sure nothing strange was going on.

“What’s that replying to?” She rose a brow. “Me being in trouble question, or me being black question?”

He began patting her down, slowly running his hands along the curve of her waist. “The question about your race, ma’am. You could possibly be in trouble.”

She hung her head low and smirked. “But everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

“Then I’d have to find out myself.” He chuckled.

Miguel couldn’t believe the interaction.

“Should I step out the vehicle as well?” Miguel asked.

“No need for that, sir.” He worked his way to her breasts, patting lightly.

She smirked, turning her head to the side. “Do you always work alone so late?”

“Ye-yes, just me patrolling tonight.” He replied, going back down to her hips.

“How fun.” She giggled.

Miguel narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you patting her down a little too much?” Miguel leaned over and stuck his head out the window. “If she had something on her, you would’ve found it by now.”

Quickly, the officer removed his hands from her, giving a nervous look.

Wrenley chuckled, shifting her weight to her right leg which perked her ass out even more. “Maybe he sees something he likes.”

The nervous officer blinked rapidly. “Uh..I– I’m on duty, ma’am.”

Slowly turning around, she looked him up and down. “That never stopped a cop from committing the most horrific crimes imaginable.”

“Why exactly did you even pull up behind us?” Miguel wanted nothing more than for this interaction to be over. “We’re parked and why did you only ask her to step out of the vehicle? It’s my car.”

The officer gave back her license and other documents. “There’s been a car stolen and the description matches your car, and I only needed the driver, sorry for any inconvenience.”

Wrenley pouted. “Aw it’s okay.”

Miguel rolled his eyes. ‘Does she do this with everyone?’

“Hope you catch the guy.” She tilted her head to the side and smiled.

The officer smiled back, holding his bullet proof vest tightly. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a good night.”

“You too.” She said before getting back into the car. “I’ll drive.”

“You’re really something.” Miguel shook his head.

“What?” She laughed. “Did I do something to upset you, O’Hara?” Before he could he respond, she answered her own question. “Oh wait, everything I do pisses you off.”

“Haha.” He dryly replied. “Is flirting with every guy a thing you do?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I’m tied to you.” She scoffed.

She was right, she wasn’t in a serious relationship with him.

“And who says I only flirt with guys?” She smirked, starting the car.

🕷️

“So what anomalies did you have in mind for the bait?” Miguel sat behind his desk, surrounded by Jess and the younger spiders.

After his little ice cream date with Wrenley, Jess contacted him and asked him to come to HQ.

“Scorpia, Earth-616.” Jessica started, reading from her holographic screen.

Miguel rubbed his chin. “Too easy.”

“Sandman, Earth-12041.”

He twisted his lips, looking up at Jessica. “He’s a bit annoying.”

“Miguel.” Jessica sighed.

“No, boss man’s right.” Hobie interjected. Sandcastle had me playin’ tag for at least an hour on my last mission.”

“And he gets sand all in my suit!” Pavitr added with a finger pointed upwards.

Miguel tilted his head, agreeing with Hobie and Pavitr. “Any other options?”

“Doctor Octavius, Earth-1610B.” Jessica finished, eyeing Miguel.

“She’ll have to do.” Miguel said, looking at the younger spiders.

Miles groaned, throwing a little fit. “She’s sooooo annoying.”

Miguel narrowed his eyes at him. “I could say the same for you. One more complaint and you’re off this mission.”

Miles only huffed, making Pavjtr jab him with his elbow.

“So when do you want us to capture her?” Gwen placed a hand on her hip.

Leaning forward, Miguel replied. “Tomorrow, this is going down tomorrow. Do you guys think you do can do this?”

“It’s just Liv.” Gwen laughed. “We locate her and just kick her ass into this universe, easy.”

“No, I mean White Phantom.” Miguel thought back to his nightmare, quickly shaking it off.

“They’ve been training hard for this, Miguel.” Jessica assured him. “They got this, especially Miles. He’s been working on a plan to get White Phantom cornered and take em down.”

“Tell me more.”

🕷️

Next part: –six.

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