#DESIGNED IN A LAB TO PISS ME OFF

[beastwars-transformers]

FUCKING NO ONE

[baelavelaryon]

sighs... I would give anything to enjoy dai the way some of y'all do.

[angeltannis]

I have issues with several of my old special interests, but none leave that pure Bad Taste in My Mouth quite like TWDG

[orcelito]

goal: Be Less Aggravated by the time dnd starts

[brewdairymore]

love watching alone (2020 horror film) (not to be confused with alone (2020 thriller film)), the shitty american co-adaptation of #alive (2020), just to experience one of the worst-acted outbreak scenes in any zombie movie i've watched

[verystressedcollegestudent]

if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites

[tkbrokkoli]

vent 😓

[phant0mth1ef]

more of bakugou x support course reader!

after you’d fixed his gauntlets, he realized just how much you’d improved them as he was training in class one day, noticing how they’re able to withstand his blasts as if nothing had happened, and noticing that you etched the word dynamight onto the rim of the silver at the bottom of the grenade shaped gauntlet.

he found himself in the support course work room once again, looking aroundbto see if he could find you to, well, somewhat thank you and ask if you had any other recommendations to add to his costume.

his shoes hit the floor as he was able to fully see the room during the day, watching as the students shuffled around and didn’t just casually cater to someone standing in their doorway, they were too engrossed in their own projects.

he grabbed one’s shoulder as they tried to speed by him, almost dropping the poor boy as his items fell on the floor.

“where’s extra #1?” he asked, his eyes squinting at the boy who just wanted to grab his things and go.

“who?” the boy squeaked.

“extra #1!” he whisper shouted as the confusion on the boy’s face never faltered.

“…”

“l/n.” he finally gave up, realizing the boy wasn’t gonna understand what he meant.

“oh! she’s currently over at mirko’s agency! she designs support gear for her y’know! she’s so talented.” the boy gushed as bakugou swore he saw a slight blush on his cheeks before pushing him forward and letting him go, walking out the door.

he normally wouldn’t do this. but oh man did he really need that support gear today! the boy was walking around town looking for the number 5 hero’s agency, even stopping some people on patrol to ask!

he was outside the doors, watching with anticipation as he looked inside, watching power loader scold you, a sheepish smile on your face.

bakugou opened the doors, a soft music playing in the background as he caught the end of your conversation with the teacher.

“and get your grades up or i’m taking your keys to the lab!”

you put a hand behind your neck as you looked towards who had just walked in the door, a look of confusion on your face as you spotted the blonde hero in training.

you had grease on your face and dirt covering your arms up to your elbows, and yet he didn’t find himself completely repulsed, just fascinated.

“bakugou? what’re you doing here?” you spoke, a large screw in your hand as you waved him over.

“i, uh, i need your help with something.”

you nodded.

“d’ya have anymore recommendations for me? like to add onto my hero outfit? i liked the way you messed with my gauntlets.

“you came all the way over here to ask me that?” your tone was questioning, and your face wasn’t having any of it.

“listen! i’ve got a mission soon and if you do have anything to add i want it on by then! got it, extra?!” he got defensive quick.

“are you forgetful or do you just like to piss me off?”

he was stubborn, you were stubborn.

the perfect match for one another!

“tch. y’know what i don’t even know why i bothered coming out here! clearly you’re just an egotistical asshole.” he turned around.

“fine! then go! i’m not exactly asking to design your support gear anyway! bitch.” you said with pride, although you whispered the last part.

as the door jingled, signaling his exit, you could hear footsteps approaching from behind you.

“well well well, seems like we’ve found someone with enough spunk to finally match yours!” mirko clapped, announcing that out loud to everyone who was sitting in the lobby.

“tch. he wishes.”

“i dunno, the way you were talking to each other, i’d say there’s some romantic tension there, aren’t i right akari?” she turned to her assistant who nodded.

the next day bakugou showed up to the lab, just sitting there waiting to be acknowledged, although you blatantly ignored him the whole time he was there, going on with your day while people from his class walked in and were instantly assisted, even deku.

he would sit there and wait. and that’s all he’d do. day after day for a whole week before you finally begun to notice him sitting there.

“alright i can’t focus with you huffing and puffing in the corner over there!” you dropped your tools, clanking against one another as they hit your workspace.

“i don’t want to help you. but you’ve got persistence. i’ll give you that.” you said as you grabbed some things from a drawer, shoving them into his chest.

“what’s this?”

“a mix of different things. smaller compact grenades that pack a bigger punch than your other ones, these are ear plugs that’ll allow you to hear without damaging your hearing further, this is a roll of tape. for you to shut up.” you gave a chesire grin at the last one.

surprisingly, he chuckled. he didn’t think he’d ever find someone who… “matched his freak,” as mina would describe it.

he also found himself liking the feeling of sitting there and watching you in your element, so much that he begun to come in after classes just to chat with you while you worked.

you weren’t as bad as he thought, he wasn’t as bad as you thought.

you could get used to this.

[txttletale]

posts designed in a lab to piss me off. i literally cannot emphasize enough how much every knight would be a cop

[ectonurites]

you call comics 'picture books' because you don't respect the medium in general and think they're just for kids. i call comics 'picture books' because the majority of the modern writing feels like it was designed in a lab to either piss me off or bore me to death meanwhile the artists are still putting their whole pussy into what they do. we are not the same

[suzukiblu]

Canon divergence where immediately after making Superboy someone at Cadmus realizes how damn lucrative "we can make a designer baby out of same-sex or infertile or not even the same SPECIES couples and also make it any age said couples want" actually IS as a business model and anyway then they never need another government grant again and clones' rights get Flash levels of fast-tracked because literally every other rich person in the world has at least one or ten of said designer babies within the next five years. What, Lex Luthor did it, why can't THEY??

( Lex, somewhere: . . . this is not remotely the legacy I intended to leave but if I lean into this I will make ten trillion dollars, be worldwide-famous and adored/revered for the rest of human history, AND influence the evolution of the species more than any other single human being to ever have existed so guess this is my legacy now. also no one can arrest me for illegally cloning a Kryptonian metaweapon if I pretend this was totally on purpose, worst I'll get is sued for child support. /literally already writing the first check )

Teen idol Superboy is suddenly instead a poster boy for this new wave of test tube miracle babies and can't go anywhere without getting swarmed by people with questions about how this works, is there a catalog or something? A website?? And the Agenda has to decide between mass-producing clone soldiers or clone KIDS, because let's be real, the math on the profits/longevity/decreased likelihood of getting their labs regularly destroyed by pissed-off superheroes there is hard to argue with. If this means a grumpy lil' kindergartener version of Match exists in this theoretical AU and that Superboy IS getting clockwork-regular child support checks from Lex Luthor, then so be it. So be it, I say!!

Is that anything, fandom? Can we do something with that?? 🤔

[leurdhavemerky]

Funny SFW Viktor x Gn!Reader Headcanons 💖

-Viktor cannot STAND black coffee. Sometimes when you're pissed at him, you "forget" to add creamer or sweetmilk. His face is hilarious.

-He isn't an animal guy- they take lots of time to care for... which he does not have. But when you rescue some kitten off of the streets, he can't help but treat it like a baby. He bought one of those little feather shakers and spends his free time snuggling your kitty. Despite insisting he isn't emotionally attached.

"Fur baby? This is not my fur baby! He's just small and fluffy, that's all. Now stop teasing me," he says, dramatically looking up at you while gently petting the little thing.

-Terrible at interior design. Used to have only a single sad wooden chair at the "dining" table. Note: There is a small crack in the sad wooden chair due to prolonged ponderings. 🪑

"Where do you even buy these things? Most of my decor consists of scattered notes and trinkets." (He is looking at a finger painting of a bird that your toddler cousin made.)

-Viktor is a big fan of meal prepping and has a giant pot's worth of soup or pasta available 24/7. Sometimes he invites you over just to help polish off a hefty tupperware full of fettuccine before it goes bad. He's a surprisingly good cook, whipping up a mean omelet for you on lazy mornings.

-He has calloused and worn hands from writing and tinkering all day. As a gag gift, you buy him those kiddie princess band-aids... your know the ones. After a small mishap, he reaches into the first aid drawer of the lab, only to pull out a smiley anthropomorphic dog. Oh well, he thinks, wrapping it around his finger.

"I see you're wearing the band-aids I bought you, hm?" you tease.

"Very funny," he says, eyes still glued to the bolt he's turning.

-Viktor is nosy when he gets bored. He looks through your books, adding little notes on random pages.

"Spicy, don't you think? I'm sure Heimerdinger wouldn't approve. Tsk tsk, dove." - V

📖🖊

(Written in the best chapter of your romance novel.)

-During academy meetings and events, you have a subtle signal for what is essentially a side eye. Phrases like:

-"Did you hear that right?" 🤨

-"That's crazy talk." 🙄

-"Are you ready to leave?" 🥱

-"Look over there." 👀

Are expressed with two hand-squeezes.

“I love you” is expressed with three.

______________________________________________________________

Hello this is my first tumblr thing I'm scared thank you goodbye

[ayeyolooo]

The duff

You walked through the hallway with your two bestfriends. They were so pretty that everyone only paid attention to them."Hey mikasa! Sasha!" Everyone said as they passed by. You just kept walking. It hadn't got you because you really could care less. You know what you looked like at home.

"Okay guys I'm going to chemistry I'll speak to you later." You pecked the both of them on the cheek as they did the same to you. "Okay see you later y/n!" Sasha said waving. You just smiled and waved back. You walked into your class. Armin connie and eren all sat at one table. The three of them were your neighbors,they were so rude and obnoxious. Even through you grew up with them they all found ways to piss you the fuck off.

"Ohhh there's y/nnnn." Armin said looking at you. "Ayo l/n come here." Eren called out. You just ignored him and made your way to your desk. You placed your bookbag on the seat next to you since no one was sitting there.

"Okay you guys,please continue your labs,please put your goggles on." The teacher sat down at his desk. You placed your goggles on before you leaned forward to see your project better. You dropped the little tabs into each of the liquids that sat on your desk. You seen the reactions and you recorded them. As you were writing Connie made his way over to your table.

"Oh y/nnnnnnnn." He whispered. "Get the fuck out of my face ugly bitch." You mean mugged him. "Oh come onnn don't act like that." His green brownish eyes looked at you as his tatted hand went to your tickle spot and he stated tickling you.

You moved your body to stop him. you slapped him in the face. "Move bitch." You said in a laugh. "Mr.springer please have a seat." Your teacher said. "My bad." He said. He smiled and licked his lips before he went to go and sit back down.

———-

Class was over with. The bell rang as everyone began to pack up. You stood up and you placed your folders and journals in your bookbag. "Mr.springer,mr.alert and mr.Yeager." The teacher called out their names.

"Yes?" Armin asked. "If you all get another f in my class you will have to repeat the course." The teacher said. "So me and mr. Longhorn has decided to suspend you three from the football team until you all pull your grades up. And you mr.alert im very surprised that you aren't passing your work." The teacher turned around and walked back to his seat.

You made a face like '😬' before you made your way out the door. The boys began to talk behind you as you walked to your locker. You opened it and placed all of your books in it that you didn't need.

"If it isn't the duff of her friend group." Eren said wrapping his arms around you. You shrugged it off. "The fuck Is a duff??" You turned around and looked at all three of them.

"You don't know what a duff is??" Armin's eyes widened. "If I did I wouldn't have asked dickhead."

"The duff stands for the designated ugly fat friend." Connie said. Your heart dropped. "I'm sorry what?" You placed your hand up to your ear.

"It stands for the designated ugly fat friend.." Eren replied. "That's why y'all's asses are failing chemistry and I hope yall gotta retake that shit too." You said walking to your class. "Wait y/n." All three of them said.

"It doesn't mean like your ugly or anything it stands for like I'm the less hot friend in the friend group that's all." You just looked at them. "I'm telling ms springer mr.Alert and Carla that y'all are failing chemistry and they gone beat y'all's asses." You folded your arms. They stood on the side of you.

"Aight now y/n you pushing it." You just mean mugged them. "Y'all leave me the fuck alone." You sped up. But armin gently grabbed your shoulder. "Okay how about you help us with chemistry and we'll help you look less like a duff?" Armin asked. You just looked at him.

"Unt unt get somebody else to do it." You said

[kechiwrites]

quick study

miguel o'hara x obsessed lab tech!reader

kinktober countdown, day one (spanking).

synopsis: Miguel wanted you to move on because he was weak. Because he'd always been aware he was gonna give in to you eventually, always knew you’d wear him down and he'd take that sweet ass of yours for a ride.

wc: 3.3k

cw: stalker!reader, but like...in a cute way, spanking, (mentions of) drunk sex, oral (male receiving), handjobs, no gendered pronouns, afab!reader, riding, praying, miguel prioritizing getting his nut over his personal safety, reader has a tattoo, my piss poor spanish (used sparingly, i swear, no use of y/n ever.

author's note: i do headcanon miguel as vaguely catholic, and as an ass man, argue with the wall. mdni. special thanks to kitten, kee and ketsl for being my soundboards and spanish tutors.

Miguel’s head is pounding, like he took a brick to the back of the head, twice. 

A fucking heavy brick.

His mouth is dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, the sandpaper sensation making him desperate for water. Light pierces through the parted section of his blackout curtains, forcing the geneticist to screw his eyes shut tight. He turns, ready to slide back into the easy unconsciousness of sleep, when a low moan startles him. Immediately, his entire body tenses, and he shoots an arm out to take hold of the intruder. 

For his troubles, he ends up with a handful of soft, warm skin and an even more drawn out sound of pleasure. It's enough motivation for Miguel to fully open his eyes and take in his surroundings. His wide, scarred hand covers an exposed shoulder, long, powerful fingers pressed to your shoulder blade. He knows that shoulder. Fuck. He knows that fucking tattoo. The spindly, intricate black ink design decorates your back, disappearing under his black blanket. His heart races with panic, thudding in his chest, he doesn't remember a fucking thing, certainly not taking you home to his place after a lab wide staff social with an open bar. Definitely not stripping to his fucking birthday suit and watching you do the same. 

Wait. Okay. Maybe you’re not naked, maybe you’re just topless. 

Miguel shoots a quick prayer to Guadeloupe, lifting and kissing the gold cross that hangs around his neck, before he raises the blanket covering your lower body, praying to see any kind of underwear covering you.

No goddamn dice.

Miguel does not see underwear. Instead, Miguel gets an eyeful of the ass he's been fantasizing about for months. It's perfect, just like he thought it'd be. Soft, perfect and begging to be bitten, spanked, groped. Your tattoo stops right at your tailbone, the pointy arrowhead-esque end tapering off between the twin dimples bracketing your lower back. 

You fucked. There's no way you didn't. There's no way, drunk or sober (and you had both been ridiculously hammered) he would get you to strip down and not sink his teeth into every inch of your body he could get his hands on. He removes his hand from your shoulder, and nearly screams when he unveils a faint half circle decorating the skin where your shoulder becomes your neck. He suspects there's a lot more where those came from. 

You begin to stir, probably jarred from sleep by the sound of Miguel lamenting his own birth. You open your eyes slowly, sleep in the corners of your eyes, squint near identical to Miguel's. You come to a lot slower than Miguel, casting confused glances around the room before your bleary gaze settles on Miguel's face. Your confusion is palpable, like you’re trying to understand where the fuck you are, and why the fuck Miguel is there too. He can almost see when you remember the night before, the social, the drinks, the way you giggled and sighed, drifted after Miguel from room to room in the ritzy hotel bar, where the party had been thrown. 

"Do not say a word." He growls, reaching over the side of his bed to search for a pair of boxers. "This didn't fucking happen. You're gonna wipe this shit from your mind, understand me? Whatever I did, whatever we did? Never happened." He spits. Irritation at his lack of self control heats up his skin, making him want to claw at his face. He can't find his underwear, his fingers only coming across a tiny g-string that you must've shirked. Or maybe Miguel had torn it off you? Or- fuck, he didn't know. He didn't know anything. 

And wasn’t that a trip. 

All that fucking time holding himself back, restraining himself, all for me to blow it over fancy whiskey sours? Nice fucking going, O’Hara. 

"I…I guess you aren't very…happy about it huh?" When you do speak, directly against his order, the pain and embarrassment in your voice are glaringly evident, and they cut through Miguel's wallowing almost immediately. He lifts his face from his hands, and claps both of them onto your shoulders, shaking you a bit, watching your head bobble from side to side while you clutch his blanket to your body, attempting and failing to hide your chest from view.

"Look…I don't fucking remember it." He hisses through his teeth. Your mouth parts in surprise, eyes wide as petri dishes, and he removes his hands like he's been scalded, his palms tingling from the contact. He balls his hands together, till his knuckles crack with the strain, trying to suppress both the urge to touch you again and the urge to hit something. 

It isn't fair. 

Miguel is not fucking stupid. Yes, you are crazy, and a stalker and probably more than a little dangerous. It was painfully, excruciatingly obvious you were obsessed with him, even before you’d formally met. 

Alchemax’s lab technicians rarely have reason to linger, they pick up samples, they drop off samples, occasionally they’ll ask for input on a report or two. But you? You always seemed to just be…around. Loitering on his floor long enough to wave a hello, to ask him if he wanted a coffee or a bagel, to show off your new “lab shoes”. Which, sure, isn’t all that odd on its own, definitely not cause for alarm, maybe you were just friendly, or bored. No, what tipped Miguel off was how you acted when you thought he couldn’t see you; the long stares, the bit lips, the quiet little laughs to yourself, like you were picturing things. Then, he’d caught you stealing his lab coat, snatching it from his locker and pressing the stark, white fabric to your face before shoving it into your bag and scurrying back to your lair home. The security camera that recorded you couldn’t lie. 

And, call him an idiot, he hadn’t reported you. And you’d stepped it up. Started speaking to him directly, cornering him when he was alone, “running into him” after work hours, before work hours, on weekends. Soon, he was seeing you everywhere, dodging your attempts at “quality time”, praying to God you’d realize he’s fucking boring and move on to some other unfortunate victim.

Not because he was afraid. He balances lab hours with bench pressing, and you…definitely don’t. He watched you struggle with jostling snacks out of the faulty vending machine on the 13th floor.

Miguel wanted you to move on because he was weak. Because he'd always been aware he was gonna give in to you eventually, always knew you’d wear him down and he'd take that sweet ass of yours for a ride. Just once, then he'd let you down easy, so you didn't get clingy or assign more meaning to the hookup than there was. He also knew that crazy people gave the best fucking head, the kind of shit that'd make a grown man weep, the kind of head Miguel would consider doing time for.

And he was too fucking drunk to remember it happening.

"Oh! That's okay!" You chirp, dejection quickly forgotten in the wake of Miguel's confession. You drop the blanket along with all modesty, exposing the curve of your tits and the soft jut of your stomach. Every inch of your skin looks velvety to the touch, tailor made to make Miguel salivate. You push back the cover, flipping nimbly onto your hands and knees. Slowly, you crawl towards Miguel, prowling towards him with single minded focus. The temperature of the room skyrockets, and the geneticist's breath stutters at the sight of your breasts sandwiched between your arms, your hips and thighs swaying and shifting while you advance. Your eyes almost glow in the lowlight of his bedroom, catching the sun filtering in and casting them in golden light. Your hair falls forward, sticking to the spit slick surface of your bottom lip. You look like temptation sent straight from hell, a succubus created by the devil with the sole purpose to drag Miguel to the fiery depths by his cock. 

"I remember everything." Your hand falls heavy on his thigh, and he can't help the interested thump in his groin. Your nails scratch his skin, the sensation so feather light, he worries he imagined it.

"Uh…" he stumbles for words, eyes dropping to the hand brushing his inner thigh. He needs to shut this down. Has to shut this down. Sex with you was supposed to be a one time thing, even if his recollection of that one time was lost in the haze of intoxication.

"And I can remind you. I can be so good at reminding you."  You’re whispering, but it doesn't fucking matter. Every word spilling from your bee stung lips thud through his mind like the heavy bass at a nightclub, knocking insistently at his ear drum for access to his brain. He begins to pray for strength in his mind.

"I don't think that's-" You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, leering, hungry eyes following his happy trail before they flick back up to meet his eye playfully.

Dios te salve, María; llena eres de gracia, el Señor es contigo. 

"You liked it so much. Said you never fucked anyone without a condom before. Said it felt perfect. Said you couldn't go back." 

Yeah, that fucking sounded like him. 

Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús.

"Look-"

You mouth a kiss at his shoulder, a sweet little gesture that turns into you dragging your tongue over the large vein lining the side of his neck. You puff a hot breath against his skin, crowding close enough for you to crush your chest against his, the hard tips of your nipples making themselves evident.

¿Cómo coño va el resto de la oración?

He's lost in the drugging spiral of your eyes, choking on his own tongue when you wrap a firm hand around his cock, squeezing and stroking with graceful finesse. His hips helplessly jerk to follow the movement, chasing the mindless pleasure you provide. He lets his head fall back, Adam's apple bobbing with each dry, laboured swallow. 

"Fuck." He whimpers, fucking whimpers, trying in vain to resist, but when you lowers your mouth and wrap your lips around the head of his cock, flicking your tongue against the crown, he lets go of it all.

And you, you don't miss a step, cementing your hand around the hilt and forcing the entirety of his dick down your throat in one go. Then instead of bobbing up and down like a goddamn normal person, You swallow. Again. And again. And again. Milking Miguel for all he's worth, never granting him a second of solace. Your tongue sneaks out, easing the path of his cock, dragging the flexing pink muscle against the spot where his shaft meets his balls. All the while humming and giggling as best you can manage around his length, sending vibrations through his legs to the soles of his feet and back again.

Crazy person. Crazy head. He fucking knew it.

He grits his teeth so hard he's worried they'll shatter, knotting his hand in your hair and grinding your face against his pelvis, fucking your face like it was the last thing he'd ever do. 

And with the way you were sucking him off, it just might be.

"Fuck!" He coughs, banging his free hand against his headboard, "I'm gonna-" he tapers off into a drawn out groan, planting his feet in preparation. Unfortunately, You pick that exact moment to pull off, shocking Miguel with cool air on his spit soaked dick. His cock twitches angrily, the tip near purple with need. 

"W-whuh?" He stammers, his mind racing to keep up with the lightning fast developments between the two of you.

“You can’t come yet! That’s not how it happened.” You sing-song, like you’re teasing him, like this was a cute little game you and him were playing. You swing your leg over his hip so you can straddle him. The light from his window illuminates your side, lighting up your silhouette with warm orange sunbeams. “No, no, no.” Your laugh is the tinkling of glass wind chimes in the entryway of a haunted house. “You came right here.” You pat your abdomen, and Miguel has to bite on his knuckle when he catches your meaning. His eyes drift lower and the scientist is blown away by how visibly wet you are. He tries to reach out, to touch, to feel, but You grab his wrists before he can make contact. 

“We gotta get you to remember, Miguel! I’ll show you.” You push his hands back, until both of his arms are bent and his head is resting on his joined hands. 

“You stay just like that,” you murmur, your eyes liquid pools of molten colour, hooded with desire. “I’ll take care of everything.” It’s all Miguel can do to nod like a fucking idiot when you take hold of his cock again, giving it two or three strokes before you notches his head against the already clenching entrance of your cunt. You begin your descent, shuddering with pleasure and keening loudly, letting air whiz through your teeth when Miguel is only half inside. 

“Ah…wanted this so bad. And now I get it again. Couldn’t think of anything else.” You rock your hips, allowing another inch of Miguel to sink inside your pussy. You continue to speak, tone delirious and euphoric, “So deep already!” You press a finger to your stomach, sinking onto his erection and following his place inside you with the tip of a digit. You both follow his path with your eyes, until he’s fully seated inside. He watches as your eyes roll back into your empty little head, watches you palm your chest and swivel your hips, rubbing your clit against Miguel’s pelvis in time with your teasing hand. From the new vantage point Miguel can see the imprints of his own teeth decorating your legs, a trail of his hunger from the night before.

You rise and fall on him, dropping the weight of your mass onto his hips, gripping his shaft like a vice. Every resounding clap throws Miguel’s mind into disarray. 

He wishes his hands were on your hips. 

He likes keeping his hands behind his head. 

He wishes he could watch your ass shake and roll against him. 

He loves watching your tits bounce with every thrust.

He couldn’t decide what would be better, couldn’t decide how he wanted the image of you riding his cock permanently imprinted in his mind. 

Guess he’d just have to do this again. 

Bummer.

“You know,” you pant, fucking up and down on him, never losing your rhythm, even as you feverishly speak to him. You brace your hands on his shins, forcing your own back to arch, showing off your chest even further. “I think I could get addicted to this.” Your voice is breathy and high, and you laugh out loud, giggling non-stop, expression caught between delight and disbelief. “I-I can’t give this up. I can’t forget, Miguel. I won’t.” 

Madre de Dios, you are a psycho.

You circle your hips again, clenching down on him before letting yourself fall forward, squishing your breasts against him, and grabbing at his face, dipping your tongue between his lips until he kisses you back, tangles his tongue with yours. Miguel’s head spins, your scent, the slide of your damp skin on his, your greedy little cunt throbbing around him, all reduce him to rubble. He bites into your shoulder again, in nearly the exact same spot he had the night prior. Miguel wrenches his hands from their relaxed position, bringing both palms down on your ass, hard. You shriek out loud, tongue lolling out of your mouth, the impact shoving you brutally over the edge.

His dick aches for the same release, jolting and twitching as he takes control, planting his feet again and fucking up into your dripping entrance. He pushes your body up, so he can see all of you. Stare with incredulous, hardcoded lust at your swaying form. Miguel spanks you again and again, on your tits, your ass, your thighs, smacks what he can reach of your belly and grunts when you beg for more, raining down blows on every available inch of skin.

“Miguel!” You cry out, pussy fluttering around him. You try to grab at him, try to maintain your hold, wrapping your hand around the cross on his neck. Later, he’ll be grateful for the necklace’s strong chain, otherwise the childhood gift would’ve been long gone. Miguel wrenches your hand off it, letting you lace your trembling fingers with his. 

Even being fucked like a ragdoll doesn’t stop you from being strange. You eyeball your joined hands, a manic, out of control grin smeared like paint over your face. “O-our hands are k-kissing!” You huff out, bringing your joined palms to your lips and sucking on two of Miguel’s fingers, fucking your mouth with them like you did with his cock.

Strange as hell, but fuck if you didn’t make him moan like a bitch. 

Your pussy clings to him, refusing to let him go, every drag in and out tears at the already frayed fabric of Miguel’s control. 

“I’m gonna-” he repeats, and you cut him off again, though this time, mercifully, you don’t pull away. 

“Inside! Come inside” You demand, words slurred around his fingers. You crash down on him even harder, forcing him so deep he swears the tip of his cock breaches your cervix, and by the way you, his little stalker, bucks and screams when he comes inside you, he’d say it's more than a little likely. Heavy gluts of his seed fill you quickly, painting your insides white in waves.

“Ooooh.” You collapse forward, your cheek pressed to his chest, ear directly above his heart. Your shoulders jostle and shake in the aftermath, body shivering with the last remnants of your orgasms. Miguel feels appropriately drained, as though you’d been drinking directly from his life source, draining his vitality through his dick. Your fingers are still intertwined, and Miguel can’t bring himself to break the connection, staring at the union and squeezing your soft hand in his own brutish palm. 

“You are…fucking persistant.” He mutters, shifting you further up his body but not completely pulling out, allowing for your head to find rest in between his neck and shoulder. 

“Mmm.” you murmur, beyond words. “Sorry.” your voice is raspy, well used, and Miguel can’t help the little surge of pride he feels, remembering your screams.

He snorts and reaches down to grope at your ass and thigh. “You aren’t sorry.”

“Well…no. But!” You lift your face to stare at him, “I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You can come in me as many times as you want. You can leave me chained to your bed. Oh! Or you could use my-”

“I get it!” Miguel covers your mouth with his hand, exhaustion settling deep in his bones despite waking from sleep not long ago. “Fuck. Just…shut up for now, okay? Can you do that?” He feels your plush lips open against his palm.

“Aht!” He cuts you off before you can disobey, and relaxes in full when you elect to nod, closing your mouth and settling against him again.

“Good. Let’s just be quiet, hm?”

You linger in silence for a while, you, breathing in the scent of Miguel’s skin and Miguel, brushing his fingertips against your spine.

It’s serene, it’s sweet, he can almost pretend you’re normal.

“I give a really great tit job too.”

Almost.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

whew, squeezed it in under the wire. i promise tomorrow's will come earlier.

support city girls with daddy issues and catholic guilt, reblog what you like.

[icarianarts]

I swear these are people that are like grown in a lab specifically designed to piss me off

[theaxolotlkween]

Next up is Caesar Salazar, or as I spell it for this redesign, César Salazar because just. Just look at him. He looks more like a César.

His actual design in the show has never made any sense to me because it doesn't really tell anything about him as a character, and as a character he is extremely silly. And in flashbacks he wears a nice shirt and tie and neither of his looks scream silly but unintentionally dangerous science guy, which is his character. I feel like my design does a good job with making him the kind of guy that if Van Kleiss said that you couldn’t trust him, you’d go “really??? This guy???”

César also reads as autistic to me so I essentially just defaulted to my signature silly autistic guy design thing and gave him sweatpants with little to no other clothes that actually go with sweatpants. I swear I’m not trying to project, sometimes characters just have the vibe of something I would do. I also gave him a LEGO brick shaped chewing stim necklace because I thought it would be cool to have a little thing that neurodivergent people tend to use as a sort of “I know what you are” thing.

I tried to keep his colour scheme close-ish because it does fit him pretty nicely, but obviously with a big fluffy cardigan instead of whatever his outfit is. Tiny little fun fact, I did actually make him and Rex have slightly different skin tones. Colour pick them, I dare you. You cannot convince me that César has ever seen the sun. The doodle of their whole family was a way for me to sort out what traits César and Rex get from each parent while still making them look very obviously like brothers. Also I think it’s pretty cute.

Now the biggest thing to me in César’s redesign is that he seemed like the kind of guy who would wear socks with either crocs or sandals in a lab setting, because César and lab safety are mutually exclusive concepts. It also gives him an easy-access chancla to smack his unruly experiments. The idea is that it could potentially lead to a running gag that every scientist he’s ever worked with has gotten super pissed off that he doesn’t wear covered shoes in a lab setting and he doesn’t see why he has to and just. Keeps doing it. The mental image of Van Kleiss especially losing it and going off on an off the rails rant when he realises that César is STILL not adhering to basic lab safety is absolutely hilarious to me.

I feel like I put a little more conscious thought into his design than Dr Holiday’s, but the design I have for Dr Holiday just felt correct and it just popped into my head as it was. Next in the design thing is going to be Circe. It might take a minute because even though I have come up with a design for her in the past it needs a bit of tweaking.

prev || next || masterpost