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#I hope no one reads this
lovelybunn · 2 years
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Hi! Could I request Post covid Kyle Broflovski x fem!reader nsfw headcanons please? Tysm!
nsfw hcs w/ post covid kyle broflovski.
warning(s): sexual themes, uses of petnames, afab!reader
author's note: my brain instantly thought of this when i saw this request (also if you know me and/or follow me, if you saw this post, no you didn't.)
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His kinks.
giving praise.
"you're doing so good, baby." making you feel good is kyle's number one goal, both mentally and physically, so verbal praise is a go-to. he just adores that cute little look on your face when he tells you how gorgeous you are while he teases at your most sensitive areas.
being called "sir".
you might have accidentally or purposefully called him sir at some point, and ever since then, it really turns him on. the way the word just slides off your tongue hits him in the right way. especially when you mewl it out, begging for him to touch you.
overstimulation.
not only will this man either have his tongue, fingers, or cock plummeting deep inside you, he will almost always have some kind of toy to further push you over the edge. but don't worry, kyle will always let you cum; he isn't cruel.
marking.
he doesn't ever bite too hard, he doesn't want to hurt you. but don't get it twisted, he sucks hard enough where that hickey will be visible, and he makes sure of that. his favorite places to mark you, (besides your neck of course,) is your waist and everything in-between all the way down to your thighs. there's something so addictive to their tenderness and the way you squirm around him with each gentle touch.
phone sex.
hear me out. him being able to hear your sweet moans while he's at work is pure heaven for him. he loves encouraging you, edging you on, until you finally hit your high, and trust me, that won't be the last one of the day. ;)
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ㅤ
What petnames does he give you?
baby.
"you're my pretty baby, aren't you? say it." to put it simply, your his baby, so of course he's gonna call you that. he wants you to feel loved, for you to know that you mean the world to him.
sweetie/sweetheart.
"oh, you can't handle it, sweetheart? i don't care." he's says this more in a sarcastic tone, but he always means well. he uses this especially during angry sex, which, because of kyle's proneness to losing his temper very easily, is common.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
Ass, Thighs, or Tits?
ass.
kyle broflovski, believe it or not, likes ass a whole lot. and he just loves groping and smacking on yours. wear some cute jeans that hug you just right? he'd totally tap that. wear a skirt that's just so short it's virtually impossible to cover your ass up? expect to not be able to walk tomorrow.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
How vocal is he?
hmm, not very.
he usually just hums against your ear. but sometimes, when kyle's really close, he'll whimper and tiny squeaks of moans will come out, but other than that, he'd prefer to be able to hear you instead.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
Head, both giving and receiving.
giving.
when i tell you this man knows exactly what he's doing, i'm being very serious. not only does that tongue work wonders, those delivish eyes could make you cum all their own. like i said earlier, he loves to pleasure you, so he goes down on you pretty often.
ㅤㅤ
receiving.
"that's it, just like that, baby.." though he does prefer to give it to you, he's more than down for you to wrap your pretty little lips around his cock. (he's a man, what were you expecting?) fair warning, prepare for kyle broflovski's true jersey shore to come out when you give him head.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
His favorite position(s).
missionary.
kyle is a very peculiar man. any place where he can see your face he would be satisfied with. he'll place you where your legs rest comfortably at his shoulders as he looks down endearingly at you.
doggystyle.
ass is his thing, so being able to see all that jiggling in his face while he pounds into to you is heaven in his eyes. just being to squeeze your plump cheeks is enough to drive kyle crazy.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
Aftercare: Does he do it?
yes, of course he does.
kyle can't stand being all sweaty and gross after having sex with you, so he almost always will invite you to go take a nice, calming shower with him to slowly come down from your high. but he never stops praising you for how amazing you did (even if you didn't do much of anything). soft, gentle kisses and tender massages against your tight muscles are something kyle will do every time. and the cuddly nap you two will have afterward? spooning kyle broflovski? im jealous.
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sprwingishere · 2 years
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i want to do something with my life. i want to do more than just stare at my phone screen all day, comparing myself to others and feeling useless. i wish i could do more and maybe brush my teeth regularly? study better? socialize with friends? but i’ll always find a reason to feel bad and that i’m annoying and i should be better. or that i should avoid anything in general. sigh… it’s exhausting.
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gallowshummus · 6 months
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I was never meant to be loved by you.
Because wild things will only bloom, in meadows touched by wayward moons.
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obsob · 3 months
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to be loved is to be held!!! print
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somnimagus · 3 months
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out of the frying pan and into the fire and into another frying pan that's also on fire
[id in alt text]
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weaselmcdiesel · 1 month
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i was being so so so real when i said id make more katnep comics
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stil-lindigo · 7 months
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warmth.
a comic about not being alone.
--
creative notes:
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--
all my other comics
store
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mienar · 7 months
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"as the sun sets,"
instagram | shop | commission info
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libraryofgage · 6 months
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Good Vibrations Part One
Hello, it's me, back at it again with another Steddie AU.
Anyway, if I were tagging this AU, these would be the most important ones: Deaf Steve Harrington; Tooth-rotting Fluff; Getting Together
If you wanna be tagged in future parts, just let me know!
As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)
----
Steve has blown through three pairs of hearing aids in the past year. The first pair had lasted a few years and needed replacement because of normal wear and tear. The second pair was sacrificed during that fight with Jonathan. He hadn't been wearing them, but they'd been in Steve's pocket, and he'd landed at just the right angle to feel them shatter. The third pair was taken by the Russians because, despite Robin's shouting and cursing at them for being dumbasses (and this was before she actually knew what they were for), they accused him of recording their kidnapping and torture.
Honestly, he wouldn't recommend fighting Russians and Billy and Mind Flayers and driving while nearly totally deaf.
The funniest part of it all, though, is that Steve doesn't even use hearing aids regularly. He normally only wears them at home. The pair lost to Jonathan were present because, well, that whole day had been a lot for Steve, and he needed the comfort of knowing he could stop reading lips the moment it became too exhausting for him. The pair lost to the Russians was because he'd been getting ready to tell Robin about being deaf. She'd already clocked the weird things he does (well, weird to her, normal to Steve), and he figured letting her in on the big secret would bring them a little closer.
Of course, that didn't go the way he expected. Robin thought he was confessing love and decided to beat him to the punch. That's how he learned Robin is a lesbian, and Steve couldn't let her be the only one admitting to something like that, so he told her about being bi and his long-standing, hopeless crush. And being deaf. But the bi with a crush thing seemed more important in the moment. She took it in stride, it brought them closer, and then Robin asked if Steve could teach her sign language.
Which meant that Steve had to learn sign language because he never had. Between not wanting to feel even more different than he already did and trying to convince his parents that, really, everything was fine and he didn't need to go to a special school for deaf and hard-of-hearing kids, he'd never learned. Learning it had somehow felt like an admission of weakness, and that was the last thing he wanted. But he learned for Robin, and they stumbled through sign language together, creating new signs only they knew.
But that's all in the past now, and Steve is working his ass off at Family Video to afford a new pair because he refuses to ask his parents for money. If he asks them, they'll come back, and that's the last thing he wants. They don't need to have all their worries confirmed that Steve is helpless, and he doesn't want them anywhere near Hawkins "Hellscape" Indiana.
So. Working his ass off, taking extra shifts, and babysitting the kids as much as he can to make up for the whole Friends and Family Discount he gives their parents. He's exhausted, but he gets to recharge somewhat during his lunch break.
About a ten-minute walk from the Family Video is a record store, which Steve has started visiting daily to just breathe. The lone worker in the store is usually too busy listening to her own music to pay Steve any attention, letting him wander and try to determine which records will best serve him.
Steve drifts over to the rock and heavy metal section, hoping to find a new album but unsurprised when he doesn't. He browses through them anyway, moving past Metallica and Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. He already has all of these albums on his shelf at home. He has the cassette tapes for them, too.
But he really wants something new. He likes the novelty of experiencing unfamiliar vibrations through the speaker, letting them thrum through his fingertips and into his bones. It's fun and relaxing, and after all the bullshit he's been through lately, he probably deserves something relaxing.
After glancing over a few more familiar albums, Steve sighs and glances at the counter by the door. The lone worker is standing there, headphones over her ears, and idly flipping through a magazine. She's chewing gum, and Steve braces himself for the sheer hell of trying to read her lips without making it obvious he's reading her lips while she's got something in her mouth to disrupt the normal shape of words and sounds.
But he has to try. Steve takes one more deep breath before walking over, shoving his hands into his pockets when he comes to a stop at the counter. The girl raises a hand, motioning for him to wait, so he stays quiet as she finishes reading her page. She flips to the next one before looking up, not making any move to pull her headphones off.
"Hi. Do you have any new rock or metal albums coming in soon," Steve asks, feeling the vibrations of speech in his throat and hoping his words aren't too loud.
They don't seem to be. The girl doesn't flinch or pull back. She just looks him up and down, taking in the polo shirt and the nice khakis and the Family Video vest he forgot to take off before leaving. Finally, her neck and shoulders jerk slightly, and Steve knows she's huffed in annoyance. "No," she says, the word clear enough in the shape of her lips for Steve to know it immediately.
He frowns slightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. Steve wouldn't mind just leaving now, but something keeps him there. He just...he really wants new music. He needs something new. "Are there gonna be any shows nearby?" he asks.
The girl rolls her eyes and says something, her mouth distorted by gum-chewing. Steve can barely make out the words "you" and "check" from her response. Thankfully, it's accompanied by a vague gesture at something behind him. Steve looks over his shoulder to see a bulletin board with flyers plastered across it.
"Right. Thanks," he says, nodding to her before walking over. The flyers are all different colors with various fonts that scream for Steve's attention. Some of them are for bands, some are advertisements of garage sales or instruments in need of a new home, and others are just business flyers from stores nearby.
He's seen the bulletin board before, but he's never actually paid attention to it. Steve has always been laser-focused on browsing the records. But now, Steve carefully reviews each flyer advertising shows. Some are for comedy shows, which he immediately dismisses. One seems promising, but then he sees how far it is, and Steve definitely can't do an overnight trip like that.
Finally, Steve sees a flyer advertising a show at the Hideout later that week. It's close enough that he won't be out overnight. The place is kind of seedy, but Steve figures he can find some corner near the stage to hide. Or he can bring Robin and let her help him navigate any potential social situations. He tugs the flyer off the board, gaze lingering on the "Corroded Coffin" emblazoned across the top.
He knows the band. Of course, he knows the band. He's extremely familiar with their singer. From a distance. Honestly, Eddie Munson probably doesn't have the best impression of him, but Steve's heart never really cared about that. Because Eddie is like everything Steve wants to be: he's loud and unafraid of being so, he doesn't care about his image and how others perceive him, and he looks like his laugh sounds beautiful. Steve wouldn't know if he's actually right about that last point, but Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, eyes crinkled and hand over his stomach like his muscles ache.
His mouth suddenly feels dry, but he's also filled with unprecedented courage. Steve has graduated (barely), and that means a significantly lower chance of running into Eddie during the day if watching the show somehow goes wrong.
Steve folds the flyer into quarters and stuffs it into his back pocket. He'll be overly aware of it being there until Robin starts her shift and he can show it to her, but that's okay. He throws a quick thanks over his shoulder as he leaves the shop, glancing up at the bell he can't hear that signals the door's opening. He vaguely remembers what bells are supposed to sound like (he'd heard a few before losing the ability to hear them), but he doesn't let himself dwell on it.
Instead, he focuses on the trip back to Family Video, keeping an eye on the road to watch for any cars he wouldn't notice otherwise.
----
When the final bell rings, Eddie Munson can't get out of class fast enough. He'd been packed for the last five minutes, and he slid out of his seat the moment that first peal rang out. He has a gig to prepare for, and every second counts. At least, each second counts until he notices something (or someone) that could prove entertaining for a while.
He spots Dustin alone near one of the exits, and Eddie decides to relieve the kid of his isolation. He waits until he's behind Dustin to shout, "Henderson!" and throw his arm over the kid's shoulders, ignoring the way he jumps like he'd been expecting an attack.
"Holy shit!" Dustin shrieks, jerking back to look up at Eddie. "Don't do that, man, you're gonna give me a heart attack."
Eddie snorts, waving away Dustin's concern as he continues toward the exit. The general flow of students trying to get out helps him along, and Dustin doesn't seem to realize they're actually moving until they've gotten into direct sunlight. "You're fine," Eddie says, "Anyway, whatcha doing all alone, Henderson? Lose your way?"
"No, I have...stuff to do today," Dustin says, shrugging as he blinks to acclimate to the sunlight.
Oh, yeah, way too cryptic for Eddie to not dig for more. "Stuff? What kinda stuff? Got a hot date? Going shopping with your mom?" he asks, and then he gasps dramatically and moves to stand in Dustin's way. He puts both hands on his shoulders and very seriously says, "Be honest, Henderson, you're seeing another DM, aren't you?"
Dustin stares at him for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and shrugging his hands off. "Who else in this town DMs?" he asks, "Other than Will, I guess, but he's still working on a campaign."
"Fair," Eddie concedes, "so, whatcha really doing?"
After a few seconds of getting nudged by the students around them, Dustin sighs and says, "I have chores, okay? But that doesn't sound cool to say, does it?"
Fair. Eddie nods in agreement and moves out of Dustin's way, continuing to follow him. "So, what, your mom picking you up today?" he asks.
"No, Steve."
"Oh, the famous Steve."
Dustin nods, looking over the parking lot before pointing to one end. "Yeah, he's awesome," Dustin says as Eddie follows the direction of his finger.
And standing there, leaning against the hood of his car and looking to the side where a group of trees is swaying in the breeze, is Steve Harrington. Steve "The Hair" Harrington. King Steve. The worst thing, Eddie thinks, is that Steve looks good. His hair is still perfect, of course, and his stupid little striped shirt is pulling against his biceps and riding up just enough for Eddie to see a tiny sliver of tanned skin above his jeans. He looks a little tense, but Eddie chalks that up to him being back on the campus after already graduating.
"Harrington? You've been talking about Steve Harrington this whole time?" Eddie asks, his voice a little strained, "How the fuck do you know Steve Harrington?"
"He's my babysitter," Dustin says, his voice implying that much should have been obvious, but Eddie wants to grab his shoulders and shake until his head rolls off.
Steve Harrington doesn't babysit. He doesn't know nerds that talk about D&D. He doesn't drive nerds around. At least, he never did in high school. Granted, Eddie never actually talked to Steve, but everybody knew that Steve Harrington was too cool for, well, anything that wasn't the typical jock and popular guy shit.
As he's thinking about the last time he saw Steve Harrington (in the halls, while the guy had bruises and looked worse for wear), they get within shouting distance. And Eddie has zero impulse control when Wayne isn't around, so he doesn't think before shouting, "Hey, Harrington!"
Next to him, Dustin whips his head to glare at Eddie. And Steve Harrington doesn't fucking react. He just keeps staring at that group of trees like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Dude," Dustin says, grabbing Eddie's arm and yanking harshly, "don't shout like that."
Eddie frowns, anger beginning to simmer in his stomach at the complete lack of acknowledgment. "Why are you upset with me?" he asks, gesturing at Steve as he continues, "I'm not the one being a douchebag here."
Dustin opens his mouth, about to say something, only to snap it shut once more. He frowns like he's just realized he can't say something, and huffs with frustration. "Just...just don't do that," he finally says, keeping a hand on Eddie's arm and dragging him across the parking lot. And, yeah, something is definitely weird here.
Instead of just walking up to Steve, they make a large arch until they're within Steve's line of sight.
Eddie watches as Steve notices them, seeing Dustin first and pushing off the car. He relaxes for a split second until he sees Eddie and his shoulders tense again.
Great.
Once they're close enough for Eddie to count the moles above the collar of Steve's shirt, Dustin grins and says, "Hey, Steve." But it's odd, because Eddie has never heard Dustin talk this slow or this carefully, like he's doing his best to enunciate his words.
Steve flashes a grin and ruffles Dustin's hair. "Hey, twerp, you're late," he says. He then glances at Eddie, his grin becoming a little smaller, and says, "Hey, Munson."
Wait. Steve Harrington knows Eddie's name? And he called him by it? He said Munson, not Freak. Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds before nodding. "Harrington," he says, "how the fuck did you become a babysitter?"
Is he just imagining things, or is Steve looking at his mouth? Like, really intensely. He's definitely not, because Steve looks up after a few seconds with a raised eyebrow. "I needed some extra cash. Also, don't swear around Dustin. I'm the one who gets in trouble when he curses in front of his mom."
Something about the words makes Eddie grin. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he'd be talking to Steve Harrington. And he would have laughed you into Mordor itself if you suggested their conversation would be about Dustin Henderson swearing in front of his mother. "What's his mom do when he swears?" he asks.
Because he can feel the conversation veering into something potentially embarrassing for him, Dustin lets go of Eddie and starts pushing Steve toward the driver's side of his car. "Okay, we gotta go. So many chores, so little time," he says, his voice back to that normal speed and enunciation.
Steve frowns slightly, looking down at Dustin and tilting his head just slightly. "What?" he asks. Instead of actually answering, Dustin just makes some vague gesture with his hand and looks at the car. "Oh, right. Go ahead and get in the car. And, uh, see you later, Munson."
"Is that a promise?" Eddie asks before he can think better of it.
Steve pauses, looking at Eddie's mouth with a slight scrunch to his nose. He seems to be considering something as Dustin scrambles into the passenger seat, watching them with narrowed eyes. Honestly, Eddie is surprised he's not blasting the horn to hurry Steve up. Finally, Steve comes to a decision and meets Eddie's eyes again. "Your band has a show tonight, right? At the Hideout? I was planning to go. So, yeah, I'll see you then, I guess."
And with that, like he hasn't just fucking rocked Eddie's world, Steve Harrington gets into his car. He makes sure Dustin is buckled before waving at Eddie and pulling out of the parking spot.
Eddie finds himself waving back, staring dumbly at the car as it pulls onto the street. It only hits him a few seconds later that Steve Harrington is coming to his show. At the Hideout. His metal show. A Corroded Coffin gig at the Hideout.
Holy. Shit.
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desperate-baitmeat · 3 months
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Dad told me he had an extra special dessert for me tonight. Just come see him at night when Mom’s gone to bed and I can have it. After I hear the door to their room close, I know she’s in bed, and I sneak downstairs. I am so excited to see Dad waiting for me!
“I made us some Daddy-daughter brownies,” he says gently, “just for us to share tonight while we watch your favourite movie, sweetie.”
I thank him and take the biggest looking piece off the plate as we settle onto the couch and turn the tv on. After 30 minutes sitting together watching the movie, i start feeling kind of strange.
“Dad, my body feels weird and I can’t focus on the movie anymore,” I whine.
He tells me not to worry and how much he’s enjoying our movie night together. He brings the plate over and offers,
“Have another brownie, kiddo. That should help you feel better.”
While eating more, I vaguely notice Dad’s hand caressing my leg under the blanket. He probably just likes spending time with his daughter..nothing to worry about.
As the movie continues, he gently runs his fingers up my inner thigh, getting closer and closer to my pussy.
Now anxious and having a hard time gathering my thoughts, I ask him, “Dad, what are you doing?”
“Shhh sweetheart, I just want you to feel good,” he replies softly as his hand finds the top of my pjs and slips under the waistband.
His fingers reach my clit and he starts delicately playing with it under his fingertips. I don’t know what to do other than sit there and let his hands touch my body. Soon he grabs my hand and leads it under the blanket, reaching towards his legs. I feel his hard bulge under his pants as he uses my hand to rub himself.
“You’re such a good girl for me,” he praises while putting my hand inside his pants. “Show me how much you love me, sweetheart, rub Daddy’s cock for him.”
Frozen in place and feeling warm and fuzzy in my head from his fingers continuous stimulation, I wrap my delicate hand around his thick cock and start moving up and down. As soon as my hand starts in motion, his fingers move further into my pjs and find the entrance of my pussy. He feels how wet he’s made me and laughs softly.
“Is Dad making your little cunt feel nice?” He asks.
I barely know what’s happening anymore more. I’m just focused on doing what Dad says and getting through our movie night. My nod indicating a yes makes him smile.
“I’m not going to be able to sit still very long, kiddo. Don’t you feel how happy you’re making me?”
He pulls my hand away from him and gets up from the couch. He’s got a more serious look on his face as he says,
“This might not make your cunt feel as nice, sweetie, but I really can’t help myself right now. Lay back on the couch for me and just relax, okay?”
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keii · 4 months
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Drew a nalu sketch bc for some reason my old ass art of them is making its rounds again on here lol
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rian johnson took all that time, put in all that effort to make glass onion a fantastic period piece to the first four months of pandemic, a prescient narrative that anticipates the stupidity of rich billionaires, and then pulled the rug from under us because the world of benoit blanc just straight up doesn't have the mona lisa anymore
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tusks-and-claws · 10 months
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I’m Not What You Need (But I Am)
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Miguel O’Hara x female reader
Summary:  “When you sit there/acting like you know me/acting like you only brought me here to get below me”
You have a concern to bring to Miguel, but when he hears what you really think of him, he doesn’t let you off so easily
Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kind of missionary idk what to call it, dominant Miguel, brat taming, orgasm denial, dirty talk, choking, sort of strangers to lovers, maybe a little bit of a hatefuck if you squint, reader is a Spider person, def a bit out of character
Wordcount: 3.5k
Find on Ao3 here :3
"Why are you coming to me with such trivial annoyances?" Miguel O'Hara asked you from the platform of his lab, at least ten feet above you. He was tapping on various screens, not giving you eye contact. It felt purposeful, pointed. 
"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to know when fights broke out. Keeping the peace and all that." You felt yourself growing warm, anxiety fluttering in your stomach. 
"What I want," he said, his tone growing short. "Is for people to sort out their own bullshit, so I can worry about what's important. Which, if you haven't noticed, is much bigger than you and I and some stupid fight in the lobby."
As soon as he said it, you knew he was right. But he was still being an asshole. You were only trying to help.
You put your hands up in defense. "I just thought you'd wanna know." Then whispered under your breath "douchebag," as you turned to walk away.
But your progress was halted by something tugging at your wrist. You looked down to see what it was, and closed your eyes, quietly cursing yourself. Neon red webbing. 
"You wanna run that by me again?" Miguel asked. 
You swallowed a lump in your throat. "Nothing, it was nothing. I'll just leave." 
You tried to pull free, but he was reeling you in, like a helpless fish on a hook. "Oh, no," he said, sounding somewhat amused. "No, I heard you. 'Douchebag,' eh? Not very creative. But…" he paused when you were closer, close enough that he could look directly down at you. "I want to hear you say it again. Face to face, this time."
You frowned. "How can we be 'face to face' when you're so high above me?"
He wagged a finger at you. "You've got a point there." In a sudden flash of tingling, your Spider sense triggered. But Miguel was too fast, he'd been doing this for far longer than you had. In an instant, you were wrapped in neon red and being hoisted upward onto the platform. He planted you right in front of him, putting his hands on his hips and leaning down so his eyes were level with yours. "Happy?"
You huffed. Why was he like this? A self-satisfied grin played at the edges of his plush lips as he scrutinized you with bloodshot eyes. Finally registering how close he was, and how huge he was, you started turning red. He could throw you around like you weighed nothing, couldn't he? He had just lifted you up here with hardly any effort. You'd never thought about another Spider like this. Sure, you were all strong, but there was something in Miguel's upper body that you couldn't free from your thoughts, something in those massive shoulders, something-
"Well?" He asked, breaking your trance. "I don't have all day."
You met his eyes. They looked so tired. You didn't want to insult him anymore. You wanted to leave and pretend like the thoughts you had about him never existed. 
But you knew what he needed to hear. 
"Douchebag," you repeated. 
He smiled, and it was humorless. "It's nice to know that this is what people think of me. That I did this for all of us, and everyone in our worlds. And the word that comes to mind when people talk to me is…?" He raised an eyebrow prompting you. 
"...Douchebag."
"That's right!" He pointed a finger at you. "I don't ask for much. I ask for people to listen and respect the operation. And that means respecting my time, too, eh? No more coming right to me with petty fights that people can solve on their own." 
You just stared back up at him, hardly registering his words. Respect time, no more fights, whatever. His hair looked so soft. 
"Got it?" He asked, starting to sound frustrated again. 
You nodded.
"I need to hear you say it."
"G-got it." 
"Good." He patted your shoulder. What an odd gesture. It was very nearly caring. "Let's get you out of here." He flexed his hand, talons coming free. He quickly swiped at the webbing he had wrapped you in, the strands snapping and falling to the floor in shreds.
Your heart was hammering in your chest. His brow furrowed. "Listen, I know I'm scary, but I'm just doing my job."
You shook your head. "I'm- I'm not scared."
"Are you not? Dios mio, I can hear your blood pumping." 
His heightened senses were going to be your death sentence. The longer he stood staring at you, the worse your thoughts became. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away from his attention. You crossed your arms, trying to make yourself small so he would stop looking at you. 
He raised an eyebrow. "What, do you wanna be friends or something?"
No, you thought, I want us to be something different. 
Despite your best efforts, you blurted out, "no, in all honesty, I've never really liked you that much." Why did you say that? What was wrong with you? 
He cocked his head, his eyes widening, processing what you just said. He started to nod. "Oh, wow. Great. Thank you so much. What a productive conversation. And you're still here because…?"
"Because you getting the last word in is infuriating to me." You couldn't stop yourself. You knew this was bad, but you couldn't stop.
"How do you think I feel? You came here for the sole purpose of bothering me and now you won't leave me the shock alone." He pointed at you again, forefinger lightly jabbing your collarbone. "You. Can. Leave. This is my lab, you little brat." He spoke the words through gritted teeth, and you could just barely see his elongated canines, gleaming and sharp in the light of the lab's computer screens. 
Oh no.
You stood there, just blinking at him. You've never seen someone so annoyed looking so attractive at the same time. It wasn't fucking fair.
He suddenly started, the anger from his face vanishing, confusion taking its place. "Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "That's why your heart is pounding?"
Fuck.
"What, uh… what do you-"
"Don't play dumb with me.” He placed a gloved finger under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. “I can smell that you're turned on. Is that why you came here to bother me? So you could gawk at me? And maybe I'd fuck you if you were lucky."
You backed up, nearly slipping off the edge of the raised platform. Miguel reached out and caught your hand, pulling you in close to him. Unconsciously, you splayed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His body was so warm and inviting, and you were drawn into it like a little planet circling a blazing sun. 
What was happening, what were you doing?
"Is that what you thought?" He asked, seeming to echo the questions you asked yourself, his voice growing more quiet as he looked down at you.
You quickly raised your hands away from him, closing them into loose fists and crossing your arms again. "No," you said, truthfully. 
"But you're thinking it now." He nodded. "Aren't you?"
After a pause, you nodded too.
"I really need to hear you say it." He probed.
"I'm…. I'm thinking about it now."
"Oh, are you? Thinking about what?"
You swore under your breath, doing a poor job of hiding a scowl. You should've known he wasn't going to make it easy for you. 
"Thinking about you fucking me." You grimaced after admitting it, waiting for him to mock you and disown you. 
He smiled. "That's funny. I thought I was a douchebag." 
"Fuck you, man!" You threw your arms up into the air, turning around and preparing to hop down from the platform. 
“No no no, come on, now,” he said, grasping your wrist with a large, warm hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. “Why don’t you give me a chance to change your mind?”
You looked him in the eyes, and there was a small spark there. You sighed, unable to deny the reaction your body had to him. You wanted him. And he was offering himself to you. What reality was this where that was even possible? Not ten minutes ago, you were hardly closer than strangers. “Okay,” you said, offering him a small grin. “Don’t fuck it up.”
“Oh, I won’t.” In another swift movement, he swept you up into his arms and laid you down on your back on the lab floor. He was above you, arms on either side of your head, boxing you in. You could hardly see anything past those vast shoulders. You swallowed. He raised one hand to your head, petting your hair. “Look at that. You really are so pretty. Couldn’t help thinking it even when you were pissing me off earlier.”
You furrowed your brow. “I thought you wanted to change my mind, asshole, is this-”
He cut you off as his hand lowered, skating down your side and brushing against your breast before traveling even further. You exhaled shakily, trying to prepare yourself for this. Miguel O'Hara was touching you. Miguel O'Hara was going to fuck you. 
When he reached the curvature of your hips, he fondly squeezed, humming to himself. "Soft… so soft. You wouldn't want an asshole like me to eat you out, would you?"
Your brain short-circuited at how blatant he was. "No, I- I would, I really fucking would, Miguel."
"Oh, are we on a first name basis, now?" He hooked a clawed finger into the fabric of your suit, ripping a huge gash into it so he could access you. That… that was your good suit. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself from quipping back at him as he scooted downward, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lining himself up with your pussy. You threw your head back in anticipation, screwing your eyes shut. How was this real? How was-
You gasped as his tongue made gentle contact with your sex, slowly and carefully licking a long swipe from your opening to your clit, like he was savoring the first taste of you. 
"You taste even better than you smell, amor." 
Fuck, he was savoring you. You trembled beneath him, your hands tentatively reaching down to tangle with his hair. And it was even softer than you thought it would be. 
"That's it," he encouraged. "Hang onto me." 
You listened, your grip on his hair tightening. As if that were his cue, he brought his tongue back to your aching pussy, lapping at the wetness that was all but dripping from you. Your body immediately felt too hot on the metal floor, and you were convinced that you were beginning to melt under the warmth of his tongue. The almost-penetration was sending you spiraling; he was giving you nothing that you needed while somehow simultaneously answering your every secret desire. You needed that mouth on your clit. Your greedy, aroused body needed more, more. You had him all to yourself and he was teasing you. It wasn't fair. 
You whimpered as you gripped soft locks of his hair, waiting for him to take the plunge. Waiting…. And waiting. But he just kept lapping contentedly at your entrance, just barely dipping his tongue inside. The feeling was pleasant but infuriating. What was he trying to do? Did he want you to beg for it?
Oh.
…He couldn't be serious. 
But that was the only conclusion you could reach. After all, he'd been asking to hear you say things this entire encounter, prompting you to be vocal. All you had to do was swallow your pride. 
"M-Miguel…?" You asked, your voice quiet.
He stopped, picking his head up slightly, looking at you from under his thick brows. "Mm? What is it?"
"Please, um… please…." Your voice caught in your throat. Why was this so difficult?
"Oh, you're begging me now? What could you possibly be begging for… Isn't this what you wanted?"
You narrowed your eyes as he held your gaze with that lackadaisical expression. 
"Please," you started, feeling humiliated. "Please suck on my clit."
"Good girl. All you had to do was ask." In no time at all, his mouth was back on you. He zeroed in on your clit, taking the sensitive bundle of nerves into the wet warmth of his mouth, sucking on it just as you needed. The feeling was so intense and you couldn't suppress any of the noises that escaped you. And the noises he made didn't help in the slightest. He was humming as he worked your clit, the gentle vibrations of his voice adding to the overstimulation. He stopped for a moment to instead use his tongue, and the pointed attention was delicious.
"How are you feeling, amor?" He asked without fully pulling away from you, his voice slightly lisping from the contact. 
"Good," you gasped, feeling like you were getting close to the edge. "So, so good. Please keep going."
"Tell me when you're going to cum."
"Yes, yes I will." 
He continued his efforts, mercilessly devouring you, a cacophony of wet sounds rising to meet your ears. You could feel your orgasm building, your body singing. He was playing you like an instrument. That warm, pulsating feeling was building deep inside your core, threatening to burst apart with every second. 
Your grip on his hair tightened. "Miguel, I'm- I'm gonna-" 
Your back started arching and you closed your eyes as… nothing happened. He pulled his head away from you. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you from between your legs, one of his eyebrows raised. 
"Wha- what?" 
He smirked. "Oh, this? It's nothing... It's just that douchebags usually don't care about making women cum."
Your jaw dropped open. This again? You gritted your teeth, your clit swollen and thrumming with your pulse. You needed release. 
"I'm sorry." You said, your voice desperate. 
He raised his eyebrows, amused. "Oh, wow, that was fast." His tone was so matter-of-fact.
"I'm sorry for calling you a douchebag and an asshole, I was wrong about you. Please let me cum." You spat the words out so quickly that you hardly registered what you were saying. 
"How could I say no to that?" He returned to you, gripping your thighs more firmly than he had before, shamelessly moaning into you as you started to curl up off the hard metal floor. Your orgasm was so close, it was right within your grasp. Your breath started going ragged as you held onto him for dear life. In a white hot burst of pleasure, you came, swearing loudly as Miguel drank up every bit of you, letting you ride your orgasm out on his skillful tongue. He slowed down right as you did, matching your pace perfectly until you were a heaving mess on the floor in front of him.
"My turn, now," his voice came through the fog, it sounded distant. But you could feel strong arms lifting you up and all but dropping you onto your back on one of the lab's computer consoles, its screen turning off in response. He dismissed a section of his high tech suit, his manhood coming free. You couldn't help but gawk at him. His body was unreal. From the small window he created, you could see hard lines of muscle carved into golden skin. Your head started spinning again. 
He began pumping his hard cock as he looked down at you, spreading your legs further open with his free hand. "See how easy it is to get what you want when you aren't being a brat?" The way his muscles flexed through his tight suit while he worked himself was maddening. You wanted- no, you needed him to fuck you. You needed him inside you. 
You nodded your head, answering his question. 
"So, tell me what you want." 
"I want you to fuck me," you answered, still panting from your orgasm. "I want to feel you so badly. Please, Miguel."
"You're a fast learner," he purred, bringing his cock to your folds and lubricating himself on the mess you two had made. He slid over your slick entrance, his head touching your aching clit as he moved up and down. "I'll fuck this pretty cunt for you, since you asked so nicely." 
He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside of you, inch by thick inch. You moaned, the feeling of finally being full was luscious, he was pressing at your walls from all angles. At last, when he was in up to the hilt, he stayed there for a moment while his large hands found your waist. 
"My God, look at you. You took all of me, and so shocking well. You," he exhaled, seemingly taking a second to compose himself. "You feel so good." 
"Thank you," you whispered, breathless. He was praising you. It was… nice to hear. Stubbornness be damned.
He chuckled to himself. "Please and thank you? You really do learn fast. You've earned this, amor." And with that, he pulled himself out of you, slamming back in with a hard slap. Over and over, he fucked you with the entire length of his cock, hitting spots inside of you that you weren't sure even existed. "Lemme hear you, I wanna hear it all."
You obeyed. "O-oh my God, Miguel, fuck. It's… it's so good. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."
Thanking him fueled his fire; his grip on your waist tightening, red eyes sparkling wildly. "Good girl, that's it… watching my cock disappear inside of you… it's making me crazy. You like getting fucked by someone you hated before all this? You wanna get filled up by someone you don't even like?"
"Yes, please." Your back arched into him, the pressure from his unwavering thrusts overwhelming you. The feeling was impossibly perfect, your body tingling from your head to your toes. He really did fit inside of you so well.  
"You'll get it, baby. Keep being good for me, you'll get it." 
As he continued, his hands roamed your body. Groping at your breasts, resting on the soft slope of your stomach. You grabbed one of his traveling hands, a rogue feeling overtaking you as you brought it up to your throat. 
His eyes widened in disbelief. “Y-yeah? You want me to choke you?” He sounded excited.
“P-please,” you huffed, grabbing onto his forearm.
“Holy shit, you’re something else.” He began applying gentle pressure to your airway as he kept fucking you. It was the perfect amount of constriction; suppressing your breath intake just enough for your head to feel pleasantly airy. He was good at that, why was he so good at that?
Between the way he was pounding you and the way he was choking you, your muscles started to bear down on him.
"Yes, yes, squeeze that cock. Good girl. You’re gonna get what you want.” 
You clenched down on him, your orgasm rocking you to your core as he fucked you through it. It hit you in giant waves, crashing over you and pulling you into the undertow. You felt completely drunk on it. The warmth of it was everywhere in your body, all the way up to your fingertips. Your head swam, your eyes rolling back into your head. Miguel swore to himself, his tempo becoming more irregular. He released your throat, hands flying down to grip the console. You thought you could hear it cracking. 
“God, you’re tight. I’m gonna fill you up.”
“Yes,” you rasped, your body shaking. 
He growled as he came inside of you, bearing his fangs in clenched teeth once more, and you could feel his cock twitch followed by the heat of his seed as it stuffed you full. He lingered over you, his eyes looking frenzied as his gaze flicked over your face, his chest heaving with every recovering breath. 
You released a deep sigh, smiling tenderly at him. “Thank you, Miguel.”
“You, uh,” he started awkwardly, running his hands through his hair. He still hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. “You earned it,” he repeated. 
He took a short, unsure step back, as he pulled his length free from you. You could feel his cum leaking from you upon his release. There was so much of it. 
He held his hand out to you to help you up, and you grasped it, smiling again as you got to your feet. 
“I’ll clean this mess up, but you.…” He scanned your frame. “...I’ve got a pair of pants on one of the lab chairs down there.” He pointed toward a particularly cluttered section of his space. “Bringing them back would be a much better excuse to see me than a fight in the lobby.”
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salthien · 2 months
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the vessel discovers one of life's simple joys: small plush toy.
a little doodle of a scene from ch 18 of @queruloustea's that makes two of us, then - please please read this fic, it's so lovely. i want to do something nicer and more involved for it but i am still adjusting to drawing Bugs and Bugs Interacting so it will have to wait until i'm more confident :')
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civetside · 7 months
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im very busy and working on like 7 things at once but here i am still drawing them for my warm ups
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