#Tag with what I should Google lol

[emailrulesposting]

Vent? below

I might be comfy sharing more later on. For now I guess I'll share things in a slightly coded manner.

Last night I had three dreams where someone who isnt't real (please stick with me) infiltrated my dream (GOD that one ellicited a vine boom sound effect) and "infiltrated"(???) it. It feels like something I wrote coming back to haunt me but it is based on something In My Brain considers important. Gross gross gross gross gross gross gross gross gross! Sorry had to get that had lol What am I even saying I totally see why people think my mind has been lost.

I planned to say it in a slightly humorous way this morning but procrastinated doing it on here. I'm not entirely sure what's going on wait what's the word count on this who am I again? Oh where'd that come from um? I'm not sure? I'll just... ignore... it? Yeah I will okay we're good I'm not sure how to figure out the word count I guess I could Google it on my PC. THE CHARACTER LIMIT IS WHAT NOW??? HOW MANY ZEROES? Holy shit we're probs about to be here for a little bit longer. It's actually crazy wait stream of thought is something so wild. Probably because of the way I think WHY ARE YOU HERE oh sorry about that! Interesting thats editable

Oh my God I could just post to text and make I'M THINKING CLOSER TO WORDS!!!!!!! THAT'S WHY IT'S EASIER TO WRITE!!! OMFG!!!! This is good information for the future. oh my god. The future. I'm not sure what that's going to be like... not based on what it's like here in the present.

Now I'm making email rules it's honestly so cathartic if you want to see the folder of emails let me know! Organication,,,,,,,,, if you want to see a screenshot lmk I'll have to take one! It's going to be sooo soo soooooooooooooooooo satisfying sorry I stopped holding my breath for a second there.

Wait why tf was I holding my breath? What was it helping? Why did it stop working? How did I know it did? What am i writing about again? Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers is playing I forgot how long I've been writing this post

Waiting room is still playing so it definitely hasn't been been long. A couple different songs have played. I guess it's really affecting me or it's just bc I'm high

Honestly I feel like I'm finger painting rn listening to caesar salad - demo by slimdan honestly feeling like that rn. Absurd indie song ass emotion.

Ive been in the wrong playlist for like 5 songs omfg I forget to keep changing it. It felt like the sun just tried to consume me a little bit also like it

Woahhhh the playlisy is already workign wow I'm influenced by music I need to listen to more high tempo music huh listening to HOT TO GO! by Chappel Roan en maybe I need to go back on my old Spotify to see whats there so I can remember what've felt to go. I know I used to spam.... I think going through that could be helpful.

Heey look at that in

I don't remember that thought. I remember deleting a song from the playlist. I remember configuring the email rules to fix the mistake

emaillistposting

Wait that's a perfect url. I'm worried corporations will make "xyz infulencers" for their companies as a marketing strat

[prettybbychim]

i can count on one hand the amount of female characters in this game that have made me stop and stare but damn She. stunning i’m in love

[covenofthearticulate]

Was tagged by my beloveds @apoptoses @bubblegum-blackwood and @hekateinhell for the WIP titles game but unfortunately I live in an Untitled Document Hell of my own design and my wips look like this:

BUT I'll give you some Funny Alt Titles for the upcoming fics I want to tackle:

Magic Hormone Injection Sex Pollen

Extreme Makeover Rue Royale Edition (HGTV Eat Your Heart Out)

Mirror Sex with the Vampire

Air Catcher Two: Electric Boogaloo

Kinky Book Club

[whyeverr]

Thus far, we haven’t strayed outside the (relatively) safe enclave of Port Promise. There’s always the possibility of running into trouble on the road when traveling, especially heading into any previously more densely populated areas—y’know, like residential neighborhoods. 

But Cherry’s right, you can’t find everything in a dumpster. (Mostly just a lot of bikes. And loose beakers of fabric dye. Soooo much fabric dye.)

So, what’s a post-apocalyptic scavenger to do? We can’t grow our own flour or sugar. And you can only eat so many salads. I’ve had “decide system for obtaining dry goods” on my to-do list almost as long as I’ve been playing this save. 

The good news is, I think I’ve finally settled on a system... 😳

Absolutely nothing groundbreaking here, but I’ve decided on rolling a (virtual) d20, where the roll determines the total number of items scavenged on the trip.

Example: If I roll a 7, I can choose to scavenge 3 bags of flour and 4 bags of sugar, or 1 bag of flour and 6 of whatever build or gameplay items the community wants/needs. Medicine, books, yoga mats... Anything that could be lying around in an abandoned house and still usable years after the collapse.

For the time being, while we’re just traveling to other neighborhoods in Evergreen Harbor via bicycle, I’ll be sticking with small objects, but eventually, once we unlock new worlds and “fix up a truck” or something to be able to get to them, larger items could be scavenged as well. 

Rolling a 1 means something goes horribly wrong—something gets lost, someone gets hurt, or maaaaaaybe we even lose one of our survivors. 👀 I mean, I am very specifically choosing not to make rolling a 1 = immediate death by townie, but y’know, never say never. 💀 

Inversely, of course, rolling a 20 of course means something amazing happens. So amazing, in fact, that it is altogether undetermined at this point. 😆 But, y’know, open to suggestions! 

[nightmareslug]

one of the perspective practices or whatever

[stereotypical-jew]

dodgers win game 1! good end to a good weekend (although i still have monday off too)

[gibbearish]

so like i want to talk more abt what suicidal means but the problem is "suicidal ideation presents in two general forms, active and passive. the thing most people think of as suicidal is the active version, where the person *actively* desires to be dead and/or is making a plan to get there. the passive form however gets almost no attention in media so many people experiencing it are unaware they are even depressed, much less passively suicidal. some examples: not wanting to experience death but feeling like you wouldn't mind if you didn't wake up tomorrow or just stopped existing; feeling deeply exhausted with just the entire concept of being alive; even feeling like you want to run away, change your name, and start a whole new life; none of these look like suicidal ideation to most people because they don't involve actively doing anything to get from point a to point b, especially the more abstract ones like the start a new life thing - but remember that in order to truly start a whole new life, you have to destroy your current one. it's not suicidal as in wanting to actually DIE die, it's just. wanting something close enough to scratch the itch. but just because you haven't booked the ticket doesn't mean you don't still revisit the 'vacation activities at point b' tab occasionally to daydream, yknow?" is i think very informative and specific, but its also quite long and run on-y so people are v likely to tap out like a third of the way through it, whereas "suicidal doesnt necessarily mean wanting to die" is way shorter and therefore catchier, but is also the kind of nonspecific phrasing that gets you a thousand angry anons about how you said all suicidal people are just pretending they actually want to die or some dumb shit. so it's a fun line to toe

[mangopit]

okay i searched it up bc the notes on that one poll disturbed me and my findings are: the largest benefit to exfoliation is unclogging pores, preventing acne, and maintaining a "glowing complexion". washing skin won't rid it of all bacteria but some bacteria is necessary. for the body, if the skin is sensitive/dry, exfoliation might even be discouraged. those with normal or oily skin might consider exfoliating 2+ times a week.

so exfoliation seems like a mainly aesthetic routine. and i suppose exfoliation is more common and encouraged in certain cultures than in others!

[sucktacular]

tagged by @lightyaoigami <3!! rules- shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and list the first ten songs, then tag ten people!

Hayloft II - Mother Mother

You Stupid Bitch - Girl In Red

Char - Crystal Castles

Letter From A Thief - Chevelle

Cigarettes & Feelings - The Haunt

Permanent Reblellion - L.S. Dunes

I Hope You're Happy - Blue October

Guilt - Radical Face

The Middle - Jimmy Eats World

Interlude: I'm Not Angry Anymore - Paramore

tagging @cat-boy-girl @oberon-vortigern @mothscales @tuffcatdad @taekonaut @backalleysamurai @apheliavampire @chiefyartsreblogs @ohkaiden @l3irdl3rain & anyone that wants to join in!! <3

[polaroidcats]

okay someone needs to teach me how to use technology wow I just accidentally uploaded the excel sheet I use for the wolfstarshipping tags onto an old google drive folder from a group research project from my bachelor's degree and now i just have to PRAY that the owner of that folder didn't get a notification before i deleted it again to reupload it in the correct folder lmao

[cryingyetcourageous]

[TEXT: Lettland] Hallo... I forget the word in English, but we call them Geschrei in German, and I heard that you have them. Or do you make them? Are they a culinary art? [TEXT: Lettland] They look like Ö but they sound like AAAAAA! (allesistrund)

[TEXT: nezināms tālrunis]: shouts or screams. if you know German, then we should be texting in that because my german is very much better than my english lol [TEXT: nezināms tālrunis]: also who is this??? @allesistrund

[jjsanguine]

Image description:

Panel 1: a teddy bear walks up to a dinosaur wearing a crown Nd sitting on a throne. The teddy bear asks: I'm autistic but not diagnosed. Can I ask for really small accommodations at work or school?

Panel 2: the dinosaur has jagged lines emanating from it and wags a finger while shouting angrily: NO! You need PROOF otherwise you're lying and being a lazy liar!

Panel 3: the teddy bear leaves and says: ok ok, fine I'll get a diagnosis.

Panel 4: the teddy bear smiles and holds up a sheet of paper labelled " Dx "

Panel 5: the dinosaur is now calm and days: oh good, so now we will strip you of basic rights and autonomy when we want, make it harder to adopt a child, make doctors never take your seriously, and raise your insurance rates.

Panel 6: the teddy bear has stopped smiling instead is slightly stunned, still holding the paper labelled " Dx "

Panel 7: the dinosaur is calm and says: but the good news is you can wear your headphones at work now

Panel 8: a close up of the teddy bear, still not smiling.

Panel 9: both the teddy bear and dinosaur are in frame, but the dinosaur looks content while the teddy bear not had human like arms and legs, and clasps very detailed hands together in a display of frustration.

Panel 10: the teddy bear now towers over the dinosaur and casts a shadow even in a crouching position, and has a very muscular humanoid body while maintaining the teddy bear head and stunned expression.

Panel 11: a closer up of the teddy bear from the bust up and they point down and the dinosaur with their hands clapped together and look with an expression of tranquil fury. The teddy bear says: what.

This still blows my mind

[bth3cowboi]

love conjeture, lh44 x reader

masterlist

pairing: lewis hamilton x mathematician!reader

summary: sometimes algorithms win championships, other times they help find love. (social media au)

mercedesamgf1

liked by yninmath, georgerussell63 and 879.301 others

mercedesamgf1 This year we want to give a special thank-you to Dr. Yn Ln! With the creation of her new algorithm focused on data analysis and her extensive collaboration this season our view in analytics evolved to unimaginable levels. We are forever grateful for her contributions and what they mean for the future of Formula 1. Thanks again Dr. Ln, and good luck with the thesis! 😎💻

tagged yninmath;

see all comments

yninmath thank you for the opportunity🫡���� it was an honor to work alongside this great team

mercedesamgf1 👏💙

user1 omg work girlll!!

user2 just googled her and im going crazy like how do you have 3 phds at 27😭?

user3 graduated super early too shes kind of a genius lol

lewishamilton thank you miss yn💙

yninmath your welcome sir champion🥹

user4 ok this is cuteee

user5 you should be thanking him bffr

georgerussell63 Outstanding!🙌 Make sure to come back Dr. Yn

yninmath oh but the travelling😮‍💨

lewishamilton nah you’ll make it back

yninmath if you say so haha

yninmath

liked by lewishamilton and others

yninmath currently picking up trash couches, writing thesis and remembering the friends ive made along the way 🤓💘

on a serious note, if anyone is interested in reading about topology feel free to read my new paper abt it (link in bio #influencer)

tagged bestfriend, roscoelovescoco;

see all comments

roscoelovescoco working’s hard🐾😵‍💫

yninmath or hardly working🤔

bestfriend surprised the couch didnt bring rats or something

yninmath no rats or fleas!!! its been a great couch #trashcouch #luckygirls

bestfriend please never use # again

user1 great paper dr yn😍 is there any way I could get your paper on the hodge conjeture for academical porpouses? magazines are too expensive, help a girl out🙏

yninmath dm me girl that should be free so make sure your class gets it too

user2 dr yn youre saving the nyu maths class of 25’🫡

lewishamilton no rest on break miss yn?

yninmath you know me already haha💞

user3 suspicious…

user4 what? they cant be just friends?

user5 I thought she worked for merecedes, what is this?

user6 she was only there to develop part of her thesis tho still won them another championship

liked by lewishamilton

f1paddockgossip

liked by pierregasly and 903.443 others

f1paddockgossip BREAKING! Lewis Hamilton was caught while vacationing in France with mathematician and Mercedes’ collaborator Dr. Yn Ln. The pair are rumored to be in a months-long relationship already, starting in the middle of last season.

see all comments

user1 NOOOOO

user2 isnt she like way younger than him? weird

user3 shes literally a grown woman lol she can be with whoever she pleases

user4 no cause they actually look really cute🥹 so happy for them

user5 right! she seems super nice

user6 i just know that man is confused everytime she talks numbers lmao the curse of dating a stem girlie

lewishamilton

liked by yninmath, f1 and 3.478.139 others

lewishamilton congrats on the finished thesis miss yn😉💙 love you

comments have been limited

yninmath love u and ty for the championship😘 would have failed otherwise

lewishamilton 😂😂

lewishamilton anything for my girl

yninmath 🥹

yninmath

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

yninmath you best believe he sat on the #trashcouch #dearlordwhenigettoheaven

comments have been limited

bestfriend did it have fleas lewishamilton?

lewishamilton no but I was worried

yninmath booo tomatoes

bestfriend just buy a new one please

yninmath i believe in sustentability🫡🍃

lewishamilton there has to be a limit

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yninmath love you sm

liked by lewishamilton

——

a/n: ty for reading and i hope you enjoyed🩷 maybe ill be writing more for different drivers soon, so if anyone is interesed keep that in mind!

[winterzsurprise]

Playing with fire || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: After risking your life to save one spider, Miguel had enough and decided it was time to discipline you.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, face slapping (M&F), brat! reader, spanking, very brief blowjob, gagging, Miguel has a big dick, overstimulation (?), multiple orgasm denial, rough sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, pain kink, some aftercare at the end.

Words: 2.8k

idk how Tumblr works as well but user @/octobersoot said something about reader being a brat to Miguel and I had to revamp this one idea lol. I hope this counts as reader being a brat.

Spanish speakers, do correct me with the last one in the translation, thank you in advance :DD

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || coño - fuck (literally means cunt but google said it can also be used as like 'fuck!' or 'shit!' in English)

"NO DON'T!"

When you ripped yourself from Miguel's hands and jumped down into the black hole to catch the Spider-Man that fell into it, you had two thoughts.

If you die, Miguel would pull you from hell to kill you.

If you lived, Miguel would make sure you'd regret it.

As the void approaches, you latched onto one falling debris and leaped out to get closer to the guy whose wrist’s flicked to release some webs for you to catch on but you ignored it. You’ve seen how using webs to catch someone goes and it didn’t end well, you’re not about to make the same mistakes.

Reaching out to grab the falling Peter's hand, you webbed to the nearest stable item you could before feeling Miguel’s webs wrap around your waist. The momentary fear and adrenaline from saving the spider drained out of your skin almost immediately. Hearing the angry man barking orders above you, you prayed early for your soul.

You're not religious but you'd certainly need a diety's kind soul to take pity on you today once you’re left behind doors with Miguel alone.

"AY COÑO, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! DID YOU GET YOUR HEAD HIT SOMEWHERE??"

You grunted, tugging President Spidey with you. "Just pull us up!"

"I should let go of you for being so stupid!"

"Then fucking do it coward!"

Despite his comments, it took one tug from Miguel to pull you and President Spider-Man to a safe spot on a building they were resting at to watch the consequences of altering canon events. The anger radiating out of his body would be enough to trigger your senses, his glare searing a hole through your skull.

Looking up sheepishly, Miguel’s face was contorted into subdued rage. The absolute fury lashing in his dark red eyes made your heart drop to the soles of your feet.

You're absolutely fucked and you don't know if you regret it or not.

On one hand, he's going to murder you and split your body into pieces to feed the kraken version of Doc Ock. But on the other, he's unfathomably hot when he's glaring through your flesh and soul.

How could he be so alluring while plotting your murder? You have no idea.

"We're going to have a talk." His darkened voice made your spine tingle, you nod and turned to run towards Hobi but the firm hand on your shoulder halts you. "Don't move, I'll break your knees if you do."

President Spider-Man shrunk beside you, more intimidated by the threat directed towards you than you do. 

"Is that a threat, boss?"

"No cariño, it's a promise."

Leaping down to greet the quarantine squad, he left the two of you on the rooftops. President Spidey turned to you, worried to the nines for your soul.

"D-do you need to universe hop? You're free to hide at mine, since it's my fault you're gonna get grinded later."

You laughed, slapping him in the back to which he wheezed at. "Don't worry, he won't bite."

•=•=•=•=•=•

Despite your shit attempt of comforting President Spider-Man, he didn't leave your side, ready to jump in front of you if Miguel happens to snap in the middle of the journey back to HQ. Hobie however, attempted to pry him off of your side with an amused smile.

“Have you realized how fucked you are?”

President Spidey hushed him, to which the man raised an eyebrow at. “Don’t say that.”

When you all entered the office, Miguel halted and you all followed. There’s a buzz in the back of your head and a glance at the nervous wreck beside you tells you that he felt it too.

"Everyone except my wife, leave."

President Spidey almost spoke up, probably to request to stay next to you until Hobie swung his arms around his neck and pulled him out, but not before saluting to you.

"I'll burn the ministry in your honor."

His voice echoed in the dimly lit room until the hatch closed shut, isolating you and your husband from the outside world until further notice. You watch as a yellow holographic lady materializes over his shoulder, Layla whose gaze immediately met yours.

"Layla, make sure no one tries to enter my office until I say so. Go hang out with Spiderbyte in the meantime."

"Don't break the poor girl, she didn't do—"

"I don't want to hear it. Leave." 

Sparing you a pitiful smile, she dispersed into the air. With no hatch to escape to, nor any obstacles to run behind, you were left standing a few footsteps away from the man.

"I thought we had an agreement to keep ourselves safe during missions?"

There was a simmering anger hidden behind his words, tone almost dark and bitten back.

"I was safe, you just need to place a little faith on—"

"The last time I did that, the people I cared about died." 

You wanted to defend yourself, bring up being safer since you're Spider-Man and all that but you knew it wouldn't end well. Seeing the seething anger radiating off of him, that's the best course of action.

Hanging your head down with a sigh. "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not gonna cut it this time, cariño. I think I have to drill it into you."

Your brain clicks, realizing what he said and you frown. "Fucking is not gonna help us right now, Miguel!"

"Well I don't see you complaining every time it happens, do I? If I recall, you've begged, cried and screamed my name again and—"

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you slapped the man. You gasped, bringing both hands up to your mouth as you watched him go silent.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No no no, I see how it is."

You waited for his next move with bated breath, goosebumps prickling your skin. You debated on taking a few steps back but before you could, he surged with his hands grabbing your neck and slamming you on the wall, stealing the breath from your lungs and you gasped.

“You know the words, mi vida?”

You curled your eyebrows at him. Does he mean your safeword?

“F-fucking get your hands off of me, let's talk."

The light slap on your cheeks shocked you, mouth falling ajar at the action. You couldn’t deny the fact that the sting left by his hand has stirred your desires awake, nor can you even dare to mention how breathless—figuratively and literally—he left you. 

Miguel observed your eyes, cautious of any hurt flashing in them before putting more pressure on the side of your throat and you greedily inhaled more air as much as you could. Dark spots crawl from the side of your vision and fear starts to claw at your heart.

Yet the uncomfortable slickness and ache between your thighs says otherwise.

"Your words."

"I'm not using them!"

The grin curling his lips sent shivers down your spine, doom looming over you.

"Good."

Before you could say anything, he released your throat and you fell to the floor, inhaling greedily for air as your vision slowly repairs itself.

"I've been wanting to tame that mouth of yours since earlier."

You coughed, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "R-really? I thought you liked that about me?"

"Oh really? I thought I said I only liked your mouth, not your voice."

Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to look up before pushing two of his fingers through your lips, pressing down on your tongue as his suit disintegrated to reveal his formal clothes. Miguel's hand threads through your hair, caressing the back of your head before tugging. With a wicked grin, he continued.

"Strip."

It was a command, not a request. The low timbre of his voice sends jolts of pleasure down your spine. Following his heeds like a hypnotized woman, you made quick work of your clothes, tossing them to the side and unshackling your web shooters.

Reaching up, you unbuttoned his pants and took care of his fly before shrugging the clothing down his thighs. The tent in his boxers sent shivers down your spine, a promise of pleasure behind its confines.

Pulling it down, his girth revealed itself to you and your tongue grew heavy inside your mouth, a few dribbles of pre-cum on the tip and the prominent veins giving it an illusion of being larger than it already is. Miguel pulled you closer making you kiss the base of his dick.

"What a sinful face you have, cariño. I'm starting to like this more."

He guided his length to your mouth, smearing his clear arousal on the plush of your lips making you open up only for his hand to come down harshly against your cheeks once more.

The sharp sting immediately melts into hot arousal pooling down your thighs.

"Do you really think you deserve me, mi cielo? After speaking back to me earlier?"

"I want it, please?"

He scoffed. "'Want' it? Do you think you own me? That's funny."

His webs embraced you and he pulled, making you stumble to the floor with a yelp. Being bound tightly by Miguel who towered over you with sadistic glee and glowering eyes, made you feel small all over.

Yet the sick bastard at the back of your head smiled an ugly grin.

"How about we try it again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll give you what you wanted."

He pulled you back to a standing position, his hand immediately locking onto your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his dilated and darkened red pairs that seemed to tempt you to drown yourself in them.

Your eyes fell to the hand pumping himself leisurely and groaned.

"Please? Darling, I want to taste you."

"Do you deserve it?"

"I'm more of an action type of person than a talker."

He said nothing, watching as you fall back to your knees before tapping the head of his cock onto your lips. Once your mouth opened, his hand on your jaw crawled to the back of your head and pushed.

The sudden and wide intrusion down your throat got you gagging yet Miguel only found pleasure from the throb of your muscles constricting around him. 

You remind yourself to breathe through your nose, trying to force yourself through it but your throat complains and you knew you couldn't take it. Slapping his thighs thrice, he pulled away immediately, clicking his tongue while you coughed and gasped for air.

"Bold talk. I knew your mouth wasn't fit for speaking at all. Such a shame it can't do anything at all."

Still focused on the throb in your throat, you weren't able to react fast enough when he pulled you flush to his chest by the web and carried you to the platform where a cushioned chair awaits.

He sat and you ended up on his lap with both his calloused hands grounding you by the shoulder and hips. Miguel's burning eyes roamed the expanse of your chest, one hand rising to trace his gaze with his fingertips and pinching the stiffened peaks of your mounds making you moan from the slightest touch.

"Maybe your pussy could do a better job."

The hand soon crept around your neck with his eyes where it pressed against its sides once more.

It was maddening how you could feel his hardness pressing against your folds yet unable to do much about it. The firm hand on your hips prevents you from grinding down on him. He does reach down to your clit, palming your engorged bead but before you could revel in it, he pulled away.

"Did those slaps get you this wet baby? Didn't know you're such a slut."

Your cheeks lights up and you slapped his cheek lightly for the name he called you, only for Miguel to return it harder.

"You don't get to slap me, slut. The only thing you're for is this pussy."

A wet slap resonated in the room and you cried, thighs closing from the impact on your heat, embarrassment burning your body before shame crawled up your throat as you realized his demeaning behavior seems to only goad you further.

He didn't give you a chance to prepare when he pushed his cockhead into you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the burn of the stretch stung your veins and stirred your desire further. Every inch inserted tore you apart, the sensation a mixture of heaven and hell, it was delicious as it was painful.

Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel reached down to roll your clit in slow circles, whispering affirmations into your ears. The moment he sensed your accommodation to his girth did he pull out till his head remained, angling his hips before inserting himself back again to hit the spongy spot on your walls.

You whimpered and moaned in his shoulder as his pace grew with a manic fervor. The pain slowly transitioned into pleasure with the frequency of his thrusts, your nails dug into his shoulder as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into you, narrowly missing your uterus as he pistoned into you.

Mind whirled in ecstasy and lightness brought by his fingers on your throat, you only grabbed onto him for dear life as he quickly dragged you to the edge. 

Feeling the familiar pulse and tightness of your walls around him, Miguel suddenly pulled away and you cried.

"Why did you pull away?"

His hand came down with a loud crack! as it collides with the globes of your ass in quick successions. Your hips twists as you clenched desperately on air. Desire clawed at your throat and you whimpered, body already missing the rush of pleasure he brought with every push.

“Do you think you deserve it, mi vida?”

You nodded and he chuckled darkly. “I don’t think you do.”

Despite his words, Miguel entered you once more, picking up his previous pace. Your previous orgasms arose, walls clamping down onto him, desperate for the release you craved so deeply. There's a wet sound echoing in the room along and you flushed deeper yet far too desperate for euphoria to care. 

His deft fingers found your clit with experienced accuracy and slapped it with every thrust of his hips. 

You shouldn't be enjoying every bit of pain yet here you were, moaning and wriggling your hips for more stimulation like a mad woman.

"My cariño's such a slut taking all of this pain like the whore she is. Bet you liked that spider guy huh? Jumping off like a fool to save a dick, so pathetic."

Miguel pulled away and you cried, the itch of dissatisfaction searing through your body. You clawed at his back as if the pain could threaten him, in response, Miguel swats your rear once more.

"A little slut like you doesn't deserve to cum. After that stupid stunt earlier? Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Yes yes yes."

He slapped you across the face but you could care less, whining.

"Stop being a dick and give it to me, please!"

Clicking his tongue. "Such a desperate slut, I'd slap you for that, but I'm feeling a bit generous."

It was his fingers that attacked you this time, deftly rubbing your clit. Your hips stuttered up to follow his hand.

“Might as well count how many, right?”

Your mind grows lighter as time bleeds against each other. His objections to your orgasms grew frequent as the intervals between your nirvana grew shorter, you have lost count of how many he has denied you and has long stopped doing so, body now laid motionlessly on top of his as you sobbed onto his shoulder from frustration.

Miguel didn't care, in fact, he reveled in your misery every time. 

His hips pistoned faster, tip almost always nudging your spot with every thrust as his lips caught yours in a weakened dance, there was a shift in the air and you knew he had finally relented on dragging it out. 

"Come for me, darling. I want it all, give it to me."

The pleasure that bursted in your veins wasn't like the others from before. The ecstasy woke every nerve ending in your body alight, limbs growing weightless from the shock of pleasure from your orgasm as electric shocks reverberated from your core and to the tip of your fingers.

Your thighs convulsed violently and you screamed, arousal squirting to drench his stomach. Miguel's arms curled around you protectively as you shivered, whispering hushed affirmations in your ears while the impact of a long-denied orgasm shattered you.

"You did so well for me, mi vida. I’m here, no more of that."

Miguel soaked in your every moans and sobs as he murmured something you couldn't catch, mind far too foggy to process.

You didn't even realize that he didn't came, focused solely on comforting you through your high.

His racing heartbeat matched the pace of the throb in your head, you could hear your breathing echo in your ears yet in the state of exhaustion, you found it calming, melodic even. Miguel’s fingers that gave and tore your pleasure away now caressed the back of your head, gently as if you’ll break apart.

You could make out his chapped lips pressing kisses onto your temple as exhaustion won over your body, eyes falling shut with the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

[skittlemxauthor]

re: the tags of the person I reblogged this from! they mentioned the specific example of being bothering by open mouth chewing, and the insistence that comes with the people who might be open mouth chewing. in situations where you find someone isn't necessarily being an asshole, eg eating with their mouth open, bringing it up as a calm question such as "can you explain to me why you're doing ___ behaviour" with an explanation as to why said behaviour makes you uncomfortable, it usually allows people to genuinely answer without getting immediately defensive (most people, mom's don't necessarily count in this scenario), and if it's something they refuse to change then the best thing to do is change the way you spend time around that person. if you find that you care about a friendship but can't stand to eat around them, change the way you hang out with them and do activities that don't involve eating. hope this helps a little!! ❤️❤️

(tags added below)

"No one remembered my birthday-" Well, but did YOU tell anyone it was coming up and you wanted to celebrate it with them?

"I wish someone would see through it when I tell people I'm fine-" Well, but have YOU considered not lying when people ask you how you're doing?

"I am so resentful of my friend because they keep doing this thing that really bothers me-" Well, but have YOU directly communicated that the thing is bothering you?

"I am burning out because my friend keeps expecting me to help them with serious struggles-" Well, but have YOU tried to establish the boundaries you need to feel okay?

"No one ever asks me about this thing I really care about-" Well, but have YOU brought it up yourself?

"I miss my friend but they haven't texted me-" Well, but have YOU been reaching out to them?

Sometimes people are mean, uncaring assholes, in which case you get to be mad. But sometimes you just need to communicate better. Try communication before you assume someone doesn't care!

[vaaaaaiolet]

It's the RPD's annual Secret Santa, and Leon's at his wit's end finding the perfect gift for his work crush. No competition, of course, except for the part where you make him promise not to bring something lame. Leon's got a week. He can do this. Right?

gn / m, fluff, romance, humor, leon is a SWEETHEART, you guys work at the RPD but you're leon's senior and also love reading??, no outbreak, inspired by the teapot episode of The Office lol, tw: claustrophobia

word count: 1.5k // read on ao3

a/n: vivi try not to mention christmas challenge go!!! @k1ssaphobe this one's for you <3 literally the ugliest effing banner i've ever made i'm SO SORRY but this completely destroyed my writer's block. i had so much fun <3

It’s all been downhill since Leon plucked your name out of a glass jar last week. Shit. Multiply that times three, rain down a couple red and green sprinkles for holiday spirit, and you have a great representation of how prepared Leon feels about being assigned the most crippling crush he’s had since high school for the RPD’s annual Secret Santa: you. 

Shit, indeed.

His hands shake like tremolo as he rereads your name printed on his little slip of paper, and Leon decides right then and there that the best way to go about this is to not go about it at all. Plain and simple. 

“Aren’t you excited?” you gush after your turn to draw from the jar. Poor you, you’d taken his jittery hands as enthusiasm. 

Leon grins tightly. “For sure, yeah, I um… I love Christmas. Really excited. You get who you wanted?” 

“Hey, no cheating. Not even with me, rookie.” You scrunch your face, clutching your paper to your chest. “Secret Santa’s secret. But it’s no secret that you’ve got to give it your all, so no lousy gifts allowed, got it?”

Well, there’s that plan gone. It’s back to police academy basics: Keep It Simple, Stupid. 

There’s nothing to overthink about making a good impression as the newest RPD recruit, Leon gaslights himself while haunting the Target holiday aisle on Monday night. You routinely save him from Irons’ infamous wrath, so it’s only natural that Leon spends all of Tuesday in a stupor at his desk, definitely not thinking of how he could never pay you back the favor with a silly Secret Santa gift. 

Wednesday rolls by and his coffee from yesterday sits in the break room, cold and overstirred next to today’s breakfast crumbs. How many times has Leon watched you sip tea at your desk? Five, six? 

Your eyes sparkle over the rim of your cup when he asks you about your weekend. Really, he doesn’t get the hate for small talk. There’s nothing small about the smile that bunches up your cheeks when he cracks a stupid joke about the weather, and more often than not, Leon finds himself waterboarding his notes app with the names of all the novels you drop mid-conversation so he can binge their Sparknotes over the weekend. So it goes, according to Kurt Vonnegut.

Ugh, he should have paid more attention in English. What the hell is an allegory anyway? Leon spends all of Thursday browsing your Goodreads profile and wracking his head over the hefty price tags attached to your TBR list. His wallet makes for a terrible wingman. 

But really, finding the perfect gift is no sweat at all. Leon is absolutely nonplussed (according to his 50th vocabulary-related Google search) when he steps into the RPD elevator on Friday morning with a clumsily wrapped, candy cane-striped bundle in his arms. 

“Hold it plea- Leon!”  

Liar, liar, pants on fire – he’s totally shitting his pants when you barely make it inside before the doors snap shut. 

“Thanks,” you gasp. 

Leon nods stiffly, his cheeks growing warm, and jams the second-floor button with his knuckle.

As the elevator starts its maddeningly slow climb, you hum, rocking back and forth in your snow boots. You’re cradling a package of your own, something four-cornered and fairly small. Leon, however, feels like he’s holding a bomb, the object of his affections standing less than three feet from his radius of destruction. How are you so carefree right now? You’ve probably got this gifting thing in the bag and he most definitely doesn’t. 

Leon can see everything unfold the moment he enters the office. You’ve had your gift planned months beforehand, his gift is going to be horrifically lame when you open it, everyone’s going to clap politely but you’re going to hate him forev-

And then the elevator plunges into pitch black.

“Oh my god!” 

Who screamed louder, Leon doesn’t want to find out.

The elevator shudders to a complete stop. Leon’s mental spiral of doom helpfully supplies him with an image of you two dangling in midair, suspended on wires. Maybe this is the universe saving him from delivering the worst Secret Santa gift of his life.

Leon blinks in the darkness, waiting for your unflappable voice to cut through the silence and figure a way out, headstrong as always, except you don’t, and Leon strains his ears to hear what’s surely not what he thinks it is, a whisper that sounds an awful lot like: “Leon, I don’t want to die.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna die,” you whimper. “I don’t wanna die.”

Your voice floats up from a lot lower than he remembers your head being, so he crouches down to find you with your arms hugged to your chest. You’re huddled against the wall, breathing all shallow. The package in your arms lies forgotten somewhere in the abyss.

“Hey, hey, nobody’s dying.” Leon reaches out to find your hand. “What’s the matter?”

“I have, cl-clau-”

“Claustrophobia?” He remembers that one well. Wishes he didn’t. 

You nod fitfully.

“The dark doesn’t help either, huh?” he whispers, craning his head to look at the busted bulb on the ceiling. “Damn.”

Your palm grows colder and clammier in his hand by the minute, and the shakiness in your breathing is starting to worry him. Your head pops above your knees when you hear rustling in the shadows, and then the telltale Christmastime cacophony of wrapping paper being torn to shreds. 

“What are you…?”

“Being resourceful,” Leon grits, tearing his Secret Santa gift open. He fumbles with its contents for a second, slipping something into a plastic compartment. “It’s not the best, but…”

The elevator blooms with soft, golden light.

“...it’ll do.”

“What’s this?” you murmur in awe, cupping your hands around the tiny book light Leon holds. 

“My Secret Santa gift,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I kind of, um, blanked. I’m also really bad at giving gifts, so there’s also this,” he says, pulling out a mug from the heap of trashed wrapping paper.

When I Think About Books, I Touch My Shelf, it announces with impunity. 

Leon blushes when you giggle at the inscription. Things always look better online than in person, rookie mistake. But at least you’re breathing better now. 

“This is amazing,” you laugh, cradling the cup like there’s warmth inside. 

“Not so amazing now that I’ve opened all the packaging.”

“Your Secret Santa won’t mind at all, trust me, not with a gift like this- ‘touch my shelf’, you’re unbelievable! Tell me where you got it.”

He shakes his head. 

“Leon Scott Kennedy, if you don’t stop gatekeeping this incredible mug and this super useful book light, by the way, I’m going to tell Irons you spilled coffee all over his desk. I can be very convincing, y’know.” You cross your arms decidedly, waiting. 

“There’s no need for all that!” he protests. 

“That was a promise, Leon, not a threat.”

“C’mon, be reasonable here.”

“You’re still not telling me.” 

“It’s for you, silly.” Leon tilts his head, face heating up faster than the book light bulb, “You’re my Secret Santa.” 

He must be hallucinating the pink in your cheeks.

“Oh,” you breathe. 

“Yes, oh,” Leon teases, scooching to sit next to you. “I couldn’t think of anything,” he confesses, “so I just went with the basics. I know you read and I know you really miss your old tea mug, the one that broke, right? You’re my gifting competition and I got nervy from how sure you were about your person’s gift. So, um, I played safe.” Leon finishes lamely and squeezes his eyes shut, hoping the light doesn’t also illuminate the shame radiating from his body. 

And then he feels the press of an unbelievably soft kiss on his cheek.  

“It’s much better than what I’ve got,” he hears. 

His eyes fly open. Words don’t form right in his throat when you reach out for the package you dropped when the lights went out. Wrapping paper falls apart neatly in your hands (what don’t you do perfectly?) and you unveil a mini waffle iron, proportioned perfectly for somebody always running late without breakfast. Somebody like Leon.

“You keep missing breakfast and Irons is on my ass about saving you food all the time, so I guess took the practical route too,” you shuffle your feet, bashful all of a sudden. “And um, my gift’s kind of useless if we never make it out. Sorry.”

He fingers the tag in wonder. 

Merry Christmas, Leon! There’s a timer so you don’t burn them :) xoxo, your Secret Santa!

You’re so goddamn sweet. You’re perfect and thoughtful and it’s all your fault that Leon didn’t have the faintest clue what to give you. Think, Leon, think. He knows he’s not this stupid. What do you give to somebody who has everything? 

A kiss. One that’s all smiles and just as sweet as the way you kiss him back, because screw Secret Santa.

It’s hard to keep secrets when you’re Leon’s favorite one.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!