Feeling Very Whore-ish At The Moment

🥹🥹🥹 <- that’s me bc you called this a piece of art

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader (actually really happy ab it bc I always wanted to write latina!reader for myself 😊).

Translation Reblog

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THANK YOU🥰

Te Lo Ruego

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist | main masterlist

word count: 0.8k

summary: miguel is desperate for just a taste

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, miguel being a munch and pussy drunk, that’s it, it’s just him being desperate to eat you out <3 also, spanish (translation at the end)

A/N: I read two words and was inspired to write this…took me about an hour and now this is all i’m thinking about, please enjoy // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

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Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

realistically, venom could make his dick however long and thick you want it to be. love that for us.

hello, and good day king adonis!

a mix of nsfw and sfw alphabet with loki!kang please. 🤭 (idc which letters).

-☆.

N/SFW ALPHABET | HE WHO REMAINS

━━. songs loading...

#. CW! X-18 + PG. talks of kinks. idk, i feel as if you should've seen one of these by now. mentions of pregnancy and kids.

#. LETTERS! fluff; j. t. y. v. l. nsfw; n. d. v. i. s.

. SFW

J = EALOUSY [How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?]

he can't really get jealous since you two live in the middle of the fucking multiverse. but if there was an instance where he was jealous, he'd simply wrap his arm around your waist and keep you close to him.

T = TINY ONES [How do they feel about kids? How would they act with kids?]

oh trust me he wants kids. he's been lonely for quite some time, and he wants a family now that your with him. like in my other post, he's the kid(s) favorite. he's so adorable and treats them really well. cuddle sessions with the kid(s) happen regularly. literally the cutest father to ever exist.

Y = ANK [What do they do that makes their partner mad? That makes one wanna yank they ass?]

he throws, and i mean THROWS your damn child on a daily. and your kid finds it funny but its scary ASF. that, and slapping your ass every minute of everyday. its annoying😭

V = ALUE [How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?]

he values the relationship so much. he's quite literally wanted to have someone live with him for a while. being stuck in the middle of the multiverse alone with no one to talk to but ms.minutes?!?! its excruciating. if there's a fight, he's apologizing first and tries to figure things out fast, because he cant stand you being mad at him. you quite literally trump anything else. minus, well the multiversal war incoming. he's gonna try and stop that and love you. but you know, kinda stressful.

L = LOVE LANGUAGE [What is their love language? Gift giving? Quality time?]

100% quality time. like i've been saying. lonely. cuddling is just...yes. literally won't leave you alone. "sweetheart, i have to-" "dont care. im getting my hugs." just being near you is enough, tbh. babe is a little touch-starved, that's all.

. NSFW

N = NO [Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs. Risks they would never take?]

hurt you. in like, any way. it'd make him feel like his variants. don't do that to the poor old man. he's pretty down for anything, except for things dealing with body waste and hurting. like, scat? hell no. watersports? nope. i mean, if you accidentally pissed during a fucking orgasm, well that's normal. but playing with piss?!? thats a hell the fuck no.

D = RUNK [How dazed or drunk can they get during the deed? How fast does this happen?]

very. a minute into pounding into your pussy and his eyes are dilating. he gets pussy drunk, reeaal fast. and his thrusts get sloppy cuz your walls are squeezing him so fucking tight. trust he's in love with your pussy.

V = OLUME [How loud they are, what sounds they make?]

medium. groans and moans in your ear, but never too loud. he leaves the screaming to you lol. when his voice gets raspy becuase of you though?? fuck its hot.

I = NTIMACY [How romantic are they during it?]

very romantic. he's sappy. its a bonding experience that he hasn't had in who knows how long. trust he's shed a tear one time. he's a soft and rough type ngl.

S = SKILLS [How skilled are they? Have they had experience?]

yes and no. he hasn't had a sexual interaction in who knows how long. he was probably talented when he didn't take station in the middle of nowhere, but he's probably forgotten some things.

#NOTES! bbg. you know you rq every other day right? 😭. ive seen ☆ in my last 5 requests bae. but since its easy i'll do it damn. good day to you. i changed my format...again.

I just know he lasts all night long!

Te Lo Ruego

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist | main masterlist

word count: 0.8k

summary: miguel is desperate for just a taste

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, miguel being a munch and pussy drunk, that’s it, it’s just him being desperate to eat you out <3 also, spanish (translation at the end)

A/N: I read two words and was inspired to write this…took me about an hour and now this is all i’m thinking about, please enjoy // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

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Yknow I never thought that I’d cry reading smut, yet here we are😭

Sleeping With A Friend

summary: You wake up in Bucky’s bed after a night you’re certain will only break your heart.  pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.6k warnings: smut (18+), idk no real other warnings this time folks, two love sick idiots pining for one another?  a/n: this was written for @fvckingavengers​​’s quarantine writing challenge ! I had the prompt of Sleeping With A Friend by Neon Trees ✨

And why mess up a good thing baby? / It’s a risk to even fall in love So when you give that look to me / I better look back carefully ‘Cause this is trouble / Yeah, this is trouble I’m scared but if my heart’s gonna break / Before the night will end I said, ooh ooh / We’re in danger / Sleeping with a friend

You’re woken by a glimpse of sunlight as it streams in through the bedroom window. It escapes through the sliver between the curtains and you tuck your face into the crook of something warm. Still, it eclipses over your shoulder and you grunt a little as it seeps beyond closed lids and beckons you awake; gentle, at first, but there’s something in its presence as your eyes flutter open that exposes the room around you.

You feel it as you lift your head from the comfort of a broad, bare shoulder, as the delicate touch of a hand slips off your spine and falls to the mattress – a pang of regret. It boils deep down into your stomach. It takes a swift hold of you as your heart starts to race and you glimpse down to the face of a man you’d loved almost as long as you’d known him. A man you’d sworn off, a man who occupied the entirety of your heart and soul and still, always at an arm’s length.

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Namor with a Breeding Kink

Pairing: Namor x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, mating press, rough sex

A/N: I watched the movie a second time. I really can't get enough of him.

He would be a little weary of bringing it up

Namor may call some of his people children but he has none of his own, he was merely very protective of his people

Since he wasn't sure of your compatibility he wanted to try a lot

All it would take was one look from him and you'd be ready for him, presenting for his hard cock

Even if his seed didn't take you still enjoyed the feeling of being filled up

And oh how he loved to mount and breed you, his hips smacking against yours wildly

Loves it when you let your legs fall open for him to be able to get closer to you

A lot of the time he would be scared that he was doing it too much, that he was being too rough

There were often marks on your hips after your lovemaking

He was so relieved when you told him you enjoyed feeling his fingertips dig into your hips, holding you still while he filled you to the brim with his cum

Help I have a thot so rotten I need professional help.

Rhett is working and you rile him up - so.far so usual. At one point he snaps and ties you to a breeding stand and then proceed to mount you. All the while snarling how your going to be breed like an animal in heat when you act like one. No amount of pleading and begging will help you

￫ a/n: lemme fucking tell you something anon. i got this. read it. and was in shock for the next ten minutes. i love this so so so much it’s unhealthy 😵‍💫 welp! we’re going down!

￫ c/w: rhett using derogatory language towards the reader, comparing you to an animal in heat, rhett being mean and degrading to you, cnc, p in v, daddy kink, manhandling you, what’s in the ask is what you’re gonna get.

you’re both working in the barn through the afternoon, moving hay and other supplies, cleaning out the horses and keeping the rest of the livestock in check. the humid summer heat has past it’s highest point since midday, but you’re both still struggling through the heat. it’s unbearably hot inside your stuffy barn and understandably, you’re both agitated.

every so often when you pass by rhett, you squeeze at his bulging biceps or at his crotch that’s already supporting a semi from your heated touches. he lets out a low grumble the fifth time you pass him by and you mock pout at him.

“what is it, daddy?” you elongate the last part of your wording with a flirtatious touch and bat your eyelashes teasingly at him.

rhett’s jaw is set firm as he scowls at you. his eyebrows are knitted tightly together in frustration as he bites back at you. “quit it. you’re actin’ like a fuckin’ whore right now and it ain’t helping.”

“but, daddy—” you whine out again, but rhett is there to cut you off instantly.

“enough. fuckin’ help me finish this and maybe, i’ll be nice to y’ later.”

his tone is firm and unwavering, and you should know better than to push him, but you excuse the heat for your lack of better judgement.

“fuckin’ fine. i’m goin’ inside and finishing myself off, somethin’ you can’t do.”

that snaps the final cord of patience that rhett has inside of him for you. he’s quick to grab at your forearm with a bruising grip as you leave the barn. you yelp out and struggle against him as he manhandles you, pushing you closer to a corner of the barn. it overwhelms you how strong he can be. your thrashing is no use.

your eyes are wide when you see him dragging you closer to a breeding stand, yet you feel the inside of your stomach somersault at the prospect of what rhett is suggesting. you still go along with it however, pleading with desperation as he ties you to the breeding stand.

“r-rhett? what are you fuckin’ doin’?!” you land with a final thud as rhett pushes your neck down to rest on the head stand that would be used for animals. you’re bent over and on all fours, with your feet teetering and scraping along the hay covered floor. your dress is flipped over your ass and you feel rhett’s hot and calloused fingers hook inside your underwear and tear them completely from your frame.

“if you’re gon’ act like an animal in heat,” rhett’s voice behind you is an ugly snarl, his teeth biting at one another. “i’m goin’ to be breedin’ you like an animal in heat.”

you hear his belt buckle clang against itself before a harsh smack is delivered to your exposed ass and the backs of your thighs. in reaction, you let out a cry that ends with an embarrassing moan. you hate yourself for being so incredibly aroused by this, but you don’t hate yourself for playing into his fucked up little fantasy.

his hands grip tightly at the flesh of your hips as he mounts you like an animal himself. you let out another pleading moan as you feel his tip push through your folds.

“rhett! please, please—” you’re begging and pleading with him, but you don’t know what for.

another curt smack is issued to your ass as he stuffs himself full inside of you. “animals in heat don’t get a say in this, quit your whinin’ or i’ll stuff your mouth with a horse bit.”

I think monsterfucking is about vulnerability. When you think about it