#the reason for that is that today i am thinking about it every time i stand up or sit down

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛  do what i say and you'll see them again.  ❜ ❛  what do you live for? what do you try for?  ❜ ❛  say no more, i know tat i'm ready.  ❜ ❛  the blood on your hands is something you won't lose.  ❜ ❛  is the price i pay endless pain?  ❜ ❛  something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke.  ❜ ❛  we should try to find a way no one ends up dead.  ❜ ❛  why should we take when we could give?  ❜ ❛  i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  have you forgotten the lessons i taught you?  ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛  it's almost too perfect, too god to be true.  ❜ ❛  what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?  ❜ ❛  your life now is in my hand.  ❜ ❛  remember them, we're the ones who carry on.  ❜ ❛  what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?  ❜ ❛  i am your darkest moment.  ❜ ❛  i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test.  ❜ ❛  that's just like you, why should i be surprised?  ❜ ❛  unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain.  ❜ ❛  i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done.  ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛  at this rate, we won't make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.  ❜ ❛  yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out?  ❜ ❛  you rely on wit, and people die on it.  ❜ ❛  you're like the brother i could never do without.  ❜ ❛  and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?  ❜ ❛  keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust.  ❜ ❛  'cause the end always justifies the means.  ❜ ❛  do you know who i am?  ❜ ❛  you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.  ❜

The Circe Saga ❛  whatever you need to say can wait some more.  ❜ ❛  there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save.  ❜ ❛  wouldn't you like a taste of the power?  ❜ ❛  don't thank me friend, you very well may die.  ❜ ❛  did you do something to them?  ❜ ❛  if you make one wrong move, then you're done for.  ❜ ❛  you and i are now evenly matched.  ❜ ❛  you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust.  ❜ ❛  who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make?  ❜ ❛  this is the price we pay to love.  ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛  all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died.  ❜ ❛  when does a man become a monster?  ❜ ❛  now you tell us our effort's are for nothing?  ❜ ❛  how has everything been turned against us?  ❜ ❛  do i need to change?  ❜ ❛  i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed.  ❜ ❛  what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?  ❜ ❛  what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?  ❜ ❛  if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?  ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛  you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life.  ❜ ❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ ❛  you know that we are the same.  ❜ ❛  we must do what it takes to survive.  ❜ ❛  tell me you did not know that would happen.  ❜ ❛  if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame.  ❜ ❛  how are we supposed to trust you now?  ❜ ❛  how much longer must i suffer now?  ❜ ❛  someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say.  ❜ ❛  please don't make me do this.  ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛  you've made your worst mistake here.  ❜ ❛  this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good.  ❜ ❛  you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more.  ❜ ❛  did you know you talk in your sleep?  ❜ ❛  i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what i've gone through.  ❜ ❛  i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  life would be so much worse if you had died.  ❜ ❛  you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame?  ❜ ❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

[reidmarieprentiss]

Good Boy

Summary: Based on this post from @reidsdimples ! Spencer is being a brat, you put him in his place.

Pairing: sub!Spencer Reid x Unit Chief fem!reader

Category: smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, bratty Spencer, boss/subordinate relationship, mommy kink

Word count: 5.6k

a/n: for you @lovingreaderfangirl <333 this is basically pure smut ,, don't like it don't read it

main masterlist

Additional warnings: sub!spencer, dom!reader, mommy!kink, handjob, edging (male receiving), overstimulation, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), choking, slapping, slight nursing

You were the unit chief, and while your relationship with your boyfriend, Spencer, usually stayed out of your work life, today was different. Spencer had made a mistake, and to make things worse, he was acting out—whether it was from embarrassment or just a bad attitude, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t going to tolerate it.

"You will go back to that house and do another sweep," you said firmly, not looking up from the open case file on your desk.

Spencer scoffed, crossing his arms in defiance. "That's ridiculous, Y/N! Morgan’s already there," he snapped, his voice sharp.

Your head shot up at his words, your eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Ridiculous?" you repeated, incredulous. "No, Spencer. What's ridiculous is you missing a massive piece of evidence and then standing here arguing with me about it." Your tone dropped, icy and stern. "You will go back to that house and search it from top to bottom. I don’t care if it takes all night. Am I making myself clear?"

Spencer’s eyes flared with frustration, and he bit back, “So, what, you’re punishing me now?”

The edge in his voice wasn’t something you were used to hearing from your usually sweet, thoughtful Spencer. You stood up, moving around your desk with deliberate steps until you were standing close enough to feel the tension between you.

"Are you talking back to me?" you asked, your voice dangerously low, your authority unmistakable. 

Spencer swallowed, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he realized how serious you were. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—so angry, so venomous—but even though he was nervous, his stubbornness kept him from backing down just yet. 

Spencer straightened his posture, though his nerves betrayed him, making his hands fidget at his sides. He'd never seen you this mad before—at least, not directed at him—and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. But he felt too deep in this argument to backpedal now.

"I’m not talking back to you," Spencer muttered, though his tone remained defiant. "I’m just saying Morgan’s already there. There’s no reason for me to go too. We’re wasting time!" His voice escalated again, but it wavered slightly, showing the anxiety bubbling under his frustration.

You were having none of it.

“Wasting time? Is that what you think we’re doing here?” you snapped, each word clipped and precise, your gaze locked onto him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. You were so close now that Spencer could see the tension in your jaw, feel the weight of your authority in the room. You weren’t his girlfriend in this moment—you were his boss, and you were demanding respect.

“Spencer,” your voice dropped, quieter but no less dangerous, “I don’t care how you feel about going back to that house. You missed something crucial, and you need to fix it. You messed up, and you know it. So stop acting like a petulant child and do your damn job.”

The words stung, more than he wanted to admit. His shoulders tensed, and he clenched his fists by his sides, but he couldn’t find the right words to argue back. He was embarrassed—not just because of his mistake, but because he knew you were right. But his pride was wounded, and that was hard to swallow.

"I... I just—" he started, but you cut him off sharply.

“No more excuses, Spencer. You will go to that house, and you will make sure every inch of it has been checked. And if I hear another word of backtalk from you, you’ll be off this case completely. Is that understood?"

Spencer’s breath hitched, his defiance slipping further away with each word you threw at him. He could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him, and for the first time, he realized just how much he had crossed a line. But he was still too stubborn to admit it.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the edge of sarcasm still lingering, but now laced with a thread of defeat.

You stepped even closer, eyes narrowing as you stared him down. "What was that?"

Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he wasn’t in a position to push any further. “I understand,” he said more clearly, his tone softening. He wanted to reach for you, to find some semblance of the warmth he was used to from you, but he knew better. Right now, you weren’t his to reach for.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving behind the tension that lingered like a storm cloud. You stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut, anger still simmering beneath your skin, but also a twinge of sadness. Spencer had never acted out like that before, and though you knew you had to be stern, it hurt to see him so distant and defiant.

But this was work. Personal feelings would have to wait.

—

However, there was a time and place for personal feelings to come to the surface, and that time was now—in the privacy of your shared apartment with Spencer.

You had gotten home first. Spencer was still out, likely combing through the crime scene after you’d sent him back to fix his earlier mistake. Frustrated by the lingering tension between you two, you huffed your way through your evening routine. You made dinner, though you knew Spencer would probably be too upset to eat when he got home. He could have the leftovers later. After that, you showered and curled up in bed with a book, waiting for him to return.

When Spencer finally came home, his anger was palpable. He slammed the front door behind him, muttering under his breath as he left a trail of clothes through the hallway on his way to the shower. The bathroom door slammed shut as well, echoing through the apartment. You sighed and rolled your eyes—if Spencer thought his attitude would go unaddressed, he was mistaken. He was in for a real punishment tonight.

After what felt like forever, Spencer emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and towel wrapped loosely around his waist. At least he had the sense to show a hint of submission, you thought.

Without looking up from your book, your voice calm and controlled, you gave your command. "Kneel."

Spencer froze, taken aback by the sudden authority in your tone. He turned his head, his confusion evident. "What?"

You set your book down slowly and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Did you not hear me? Or are you talking back again?" There was a warning in your voice, a promise that you weren’t playing games tonight. "I really don’t want to make your punishment worse, baby."

Spencer hesitated for a brief moment, the weight of the situation settling in, knowing you were in complete control now. He lowered his gaze, the tension between you thick, as he finally obeyed, dropping to his knees.

You stood up from the bed, your movements deliberate as you slowly circled around Spencer, letting your eyes roam over him with a quiet intensity. The soft sound of your bare feet against the floor was the only thing breaking the silence as you took in his posture—tense, but submissive, waiting for what was coming next. 

When you stopped in front of him, you reached down and tilted his chin up with a single finger, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were defiant, even now. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

"You know you’re in trouble, right, baby?" you asked, your voice sweet but laced with warning.

Spencer didn’t respond right away; instead, he narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if testing how far he could push. Without hesitation, you slapped his face lightly, the quick sting enough to make him let out a soft whimper. His eyes widened in surprise, but he still held his ground.

Roughly, you grabbed his cheeks in one hand, squeezing his face so he had no choice but to focus on you. "I asked you a question, brat."

“Yes, Mommy," he mumbled, his voice small and obedient now, the fight in him fading. "I know I’m in trouble."

"Hmm, good," you said, releasing his face with a satisfied hum. You began pacing around him again, like a predator stalking its prey, before stopping just behind him, leaning close enough that your breath tickled his ear. "And why are you in trouble, smart boy?"

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "Because I argued with you. I was disrespectful. I–I acted like a brat."

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "That’s right." You stood up straight again, looking down at him. "And now, you're going to make it up to me, aren’t you?"

Spencer nodded, his face falling into a sad expression, clearly regretting how he had acted earlier. He was always your good boy, and he knew that punishment was rare because he hardly ever misbehaved. The realization of how far he'd pushed you today weighed on him, leaving him feeling small and upset.

"Why are you pouting, baby?" you asked, your tone softening just a touch as you stood in front of him, looking down at his bowed head.

Spencer shrugged, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet your gaze. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap, but still, he said nothing.

"Words, Spencer," you reminded him firmly. "Speak up."

He hesitated for a moment before finally looking up at you, his eyes filled with guilt. "I hate that I disappointed you," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don’t like being punished… you never have to do this. I’m supposed to be your good boy."

You felt a flicker of sympathy for him, knowing how much he valued pleasing you, but you held firm. "Yes, you are supposed to be my good boy," you agreed, leaning down slightly so that your eyes were level with his. "But today, you weren’t. Today, you acted like a bad boy, and now, you have to accept the consequences."

Spencer bit his lip, nodding again, the weight of his actions settling in further. "I know… I’m sorry."

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, stroking it softly for just a moment before pulling back. "Thank you for apologizing. But you still need to learn."

“Stand up. Don’t keep the towel,” you ordered, your voice cold and almost bored, leaving no room for hesitation. Spencer flinched at the command, the sharp tone slicing through the air as he scrambled to comply. The towel slipped from his body, falling to the floor as he stood there, bare and vulnerable.

“Get on the bed,” you continued, moving with a quiet precision as you retrieved something from the dresser, your back turned to him. “Hands above your head.”

Spencer couldn’t see what you were holding, and that only added to his nervousness. He climbed onto the bed, his heart racing, and stretched his arms above his head, just as you instructed. 

When you finally turned back toward him, he caught sight of the ties and lube in your hands, and his body reacted instantly—a slight twitch of excitement mixed with fear. His breath quickened, but his eyes never left yours. He hated the feeling of being restrained, of not being able to touch you, to feel you close. But there was something intoxicating about the power dynamic, about giving himself over to you completely.

You approached him slowly, deliberately, the ties dangling from your fingers like a silent promise of what was to come. Without saying a word, you moved to the head of the bed, taking his wrists gently but firmly and securing them to the bedposts. Spencer’s chest rose and fell rapidly as the ties tightened around his wrists, his muscles straining, already longing to break free.

His eyes searched yours, desperate for any hint of softness, but he found none. You were in control, and he knew it.

"Mommy," Spencer whimpered softly, his voice barely above a whisper, full of need and desperation.

You glanced down at him, your gaze calm and measured. "Yes, baby?"

His eyes flickered with longing as he whined, "I want to touch you."

A sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned down slightly, your fingers brushing lightly along his arm, teasing but not giving him what he wanted. "I want that too, my love," you murmured, your voice laced with a touch of sympathy, though your expression remained stern. "But I can't give you a reward quite yet."

"Yet?" Spencer perked up, excitement sparking in his eyes, the word like a glimmer of hope he clung to.

You smirked at his eagerness, trailing your hand down his chest in a feather-light touch, just enough to make him squirm. "Yet," you confirmed. "But you'll have to earn it, baby. That means no whining, no more attitude. Understand?"

Spencer nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation, but you could see the struggle in him—how hard it was for him to hold back, to stay restrained when all he wanted was to feel you. "I’ll be good," he promised, his voice shaky. "Please, I’ll be good."

You smiled, your fingers trailing lower. "We'll see, baby. We'll see."

Spencer squirmed involuntarily as your fingers teased his stomach, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. "Keep still, Spence," you instructed, your voice firm but calm, watching as he took deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to regain control over his body.

His wide eyes followed your every move as you reached for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, and he watched, anticipation building, as you squirted some of its contents into your hand. The cool sensation made his breath hitch the moment your hand wrapped around him, his back arching off the bed instinctively.

Without missing a beat, you placed your other hand on his hips, pressing him back down into the mattress. "Spencer, be good," you warned, your tone leaving no room for disobedience.

His body trembled, caught between the overwhelming sensation and the need to obey you. "I’m trying," he whispered, his voice strained as he fought to stay still, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the ties. His chest heaved, desperate to be good for you, but the pleasure was intoxicating, testing his restraint.

You smirked, knowing exactly how far you could push him. "Good boy," you murmured, your hand moving slowly, deliberately, keeping his hips pinned down as he tried not to writhe beneath you, every muscle in his body begging for release, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not even close.

After almost an hour of torture, Spencer was doing everything in his power to follow your rules, his body taut with tension as he tried to stay still beneath your touch. His breath came in ragged gasps, his wrists pulling at the ties as he strained not to buck his hips against you. But you were making it so hard for him—each time your hand changed pace, it sent him spiraling, his mind spinning out of control. You could feel his body tightening, every muscle coiling as he teetered on the edge.

And just when you knew he was close, so close, you let go.

A desperate sound tore from his throat, half whine, half groan, as you pulled your hand away, denying him the release he so desperately craved. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving as he looked up at you, practically begging for mercy.

"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. "Please, I want—"

You shushed him gently, running your hand down his chest in a soothing gesture. "Spencer," you said softly but firmly, your eyes locking onto his. "What did I say about being good?"

"I-I’m trying," he gasped, his voice shaky as he fought to hold on. "I’m really trying."

You could see him unraveling, his mind quickly losing grip on any sense of control. And that was exactly where you wanted him.

"Then keep trying, baby," you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his chest. "You’ll get what you want when I’m ready to give it to you. Not a moment before."

You sped your hand up, focusing all your attention on the sensitive tip, moving with quick, intense strokes. Spencer's body reacted immediately, his back arching violently off the bed as a scream tore from his chest.

"Mommy! Please!" His voice cracked, high and desperate, tears beginning to stream from his eyes as he lost all composure. "I’m going to come!"

But instead of granting him mercy, you snapped sharply, "No!" The command echoed in the room, and Spencer flinched at your tone. "If you come," you warned, your eyes dark and unwavering, "I’m not stopping."

His breath hitched, and his sobs grew more frantic. He fought to control himself, but the sensation was overwhelming, his mind teetering on the brink of bliss and despair. The threat of what would come if he disobeyed hung heavy in the air, fueling his panic as he tried, with every ounce of strength, to hold back the release his body so desperately craved.

"Please," Spencer sobbed, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face as his entire body trembled beneath your relentless touch. "I-I can’t… I can’t hold on…"

"Yes, you can," you whispered, your voice soft but commanding as you leaned closer. "You will, or you’ll regret it, baby. Be good for me."

He choked out a whimper, his muscles straining, teetering on the edge of breaking as your hand continued its torturous rhythm, and every nerve in his body screamed for release. But you were in control, and Spencer knew there would be no relief until you decided. 

You pressed your palm firmly against the sensitive tip, rubbing harsh circles that sent shockwaves through Spencer’s body. He couldn't hold it any longer—a guttural scream tore from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him, his release spilling across his stomach in hot, frantic bursts.

But there was no mercy in your eyes as you watched him unravel beneath you.

"Oh… bad boy, baby," you tutted softly, your voice laced with both disappointment and a dark edge of amusement. Without missing a beat, you gripped him tightly, continuing your mean, relentless rhythm even as his body spasmed from the intensity.

Spencer writhed beneath you, his sobs louder now as the overstimulation set in, his body too sensitive to handle the unyielding pace of your hand. "Please, please!" he begged, his voice hoarse, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "I-I can’t—please stop, I’m sorry!"

But you only leaned in closer, your hand maintaining its punishing rhythm. "I told you, baby," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear, "if you came, I wouldn’t stop. And bad boys don’t get to decide when it’s over."

Spencer whimpered helplessly, his entire body shaking as he endured the overwhelming sensations, unable to escape the torment of your touch. The line between pleasure and pain had long since blurred, leaving him at your mercy. And you weren't done with him yet. 

You suddenly let go of Spencer, pulling your hand away from him. For a brief moment, he thought the torture had finally ended, and he took deep, strained breaths, his chest heaving as tears continued to spill from his eyes. 

"Thank you, Mommy," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as if he could finally rest.

But just as he began to relax, his eyes shot open, wide with shock, as he felt you sinking down on top of him, your body enveloping him in an overwhelming rush of sensation. The overstimulation hit him like a bolt of electricity, and his body reacted instantly, thrashing beneath you in a desperate attempt to escape the intensity.

"Mommy!" he cried out, his voice ragged and broken as his body twisted under yours. His muscles tensed, his movements frantic, but there was no escape.

"Shut up," you seethed, your voice low and dangerous as you wrapped your hand around his throat, tightening your grip just enough to still him. His breath hitched, and his panicked eyes met yours. "I’m in charge," you reminded him, the weight of your authority pressing down on him as surely as your body did.

Spencer whimpered beneath your grip, his mind a haze of overstimulation and helplessness, but he knew better than to argue with you. His resistance faded as he realized you weren’t done with him yet—not until you decided.

"Tell me, baby," you panted, your body moving rhythmically as you rode Spencer, chasing your own release with relentless intensity. Every roll of your hips drove him deeper into overstimulation, but you were in control, and you weren’t letting up. "How does it feel?"

Spencer sniffled, his voice shaky and tear-filled. "S-so good, Mommy," he stammered, struggling to hold himself together as his body continued to tremble beneath you.

You laughed, the sound sharp and mean as you continued, "Thought you couldn’t take it." There was a mocking edge to your voice as you rode him harder, the sensation overwhelming his senses. "Were you lying?"

"No!" Spencer cried, his voice breaking as he clung to the edge of his composure. "It—it hurts, Mommy, but I like it!"

"Yes, yes, you do," you taunted, your tone dripping with satisfaction as you gazed down at him, your pathetic, brainless boy. "You like it when Mommy uses you, don’t you?"

"Yes!" he nearly screamed, his body shaking uncontrollably, caught between pain and pleasure. "Please! Just want to be good for you," he sobbed, his desperation palpable as he surrendered completely to your control.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Then be good, baby, and take everything I give you." Your body continued to grind down on him, mercilessly chasing your own release, pushing him further past the point of no return.

By the time you reached your release, Spencer was a wreck beneath you, his body trembling as sobs wracked his chest. He cried out in desperation as your muscles tightened around him, sending him further into an abyss of overstimulation. Each second felt like an eternity for him, trapped between the aching pleasure and the need to obey you.

Just when he thought relief was finally coming, you lifted yourself off of him, hovering just above him, denying him that final push he needed. Spencer’s whine was pitiful, filled with frustration and longing. "Mommy! Please!" he whimpered, his voice cracking as tears continued to stream down his face.

"Please what?" you asked, your tone deliberately condescending as you leaned back, watching him squirm beneath you. "Use your words, dumb baby."

Spencer swallowed hard, his body twitching with anticipation, his mind too clouded to do anything but beg. "Please let me come," he sobbed, his voice raw and desperate. "Please, Mommy."

You smirked, your eyes dark with amusement as you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the possibility of what he wanted. "Hmm… okay, baby," you said, your voice dripping with false sweetness. "But you’re cleaning it up after."

Spencer twitched at your words, his entire body lighting up with excitement at the promise. The thought of finally getting the release he so desperately needed was enough to make him shiver. "Yes, Mommy," he gasped, nodding eagerly as his breath hitched in anticipation, his mind already surrendering completely to your control.

You lowered yourself back down onto Spencer, and his loud, desperate moan filled the room as he watched you take him in again, the sight alone enough to push him closer to the edge. His body was trembling, every nerve on fire as you rode him hard and fast, the intensity of your movements leaving him powerless to do anything but submit. 

His hands tugged against the restraints, his eyes squeezed shut, and with a strangled cry, he found his release, his body jerking as he filled you up. The sensation of you pinching and tugging at his nipples sent him over the edge, his cries growing louder as his body finally gave in completely.

You slowed your pace, riding out the last of his climax, before finally relaxing on top of him, your breath steadying. Spencer lay beneath you, panting and exhausted, his chest heaving as he came down from the overwhelming high.

With a soft sigh, you pulled off him, moving up his body with a deliberate slowness, positioning yourself directly over his face. You looked down at him, your fingers gently brushing through his hair as you smiled wickedly. "Ready to clean up your mess, baby?"

Spencer’s eyes widened, his mouth already watering at the thought, and he nodded eagerly, his voice breathless and submissive. "Yes, Mommy, please," he whispered, his eyes full of adoration as he awaited your command, ready to obey, to please, and to make up for every bit of his earlier defiance.

You lowered yourself onto Spencer's waiting mouth, threading your fingers through his hair as you settled into a steady rhythm, guiding his movements with gentle yet firm pressure. His tongue worked eagerly, desperate to please you, to clean up every bit of the mess he'd made.

“Oh, Spence,” you sighed, your head falling back slightly as you rode his face, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Your mouth is so good, baby."

Spencer whimpered in response, his efforts growing more determined with every sound of approval that escaped your lips. You could feel the way he was trying so hard to be good for you, to make you proud, and it only fueled your desire to push him further.

"Making Mommy so proud," you praised, your voice laced with satisfaction as you tugged gently at his hair, controlling his pace. His tongue flicked faster, more desperate to hear those words again, and you couldn't help the soft moans escaping you as you continued to ride his face, letting the sensation build.

With each passing second, Spencer's mouth worked harder, your praise driving him to do anything for you. His whimpers were muffled by your body, but the eagerness in his touch and the way he responded to your every command made it clear—he was willing to do anything to make you proud.

You continued to ride Spencer’s face, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him, making sure he stayed exactly where you needed him. His tongue flicked and swirled in all the right places, and the sounds of your pleasure spurred him on, his hands instinctively tugging against the restraints as he longed to touch you, to feel your body against his.

"That’s it, baby," you breathed, your voice a mix of praise and moans as you pressed down harder, your body shivering from the sensations he was creating. "You’re making Mommy feel so good."

Spencer whimpered beneath you, the vibrations of his muffled cries only adding to your pleasure as you ground down onto him, riding his mouth with a newfound urgency. Your hips moved faster, chasing the climax that was building inside you, each stroke of his tongue sending you closer to the edge.

"You like this, don’t you?" you asked, your voice breathless but firm. "You like being my toy, Spence?"

His desperate whimpers were the only answer you needed. You tugged harder at his hair, pulling his face closer, your pace quickening as the pleasure began to overwhelm you. Spencer’s tongue moved in perfect rhythm with your hips, eager to push you to your peak.

As the tension built, you gasped, your body trembling as you felt yourself nearing the brink. "I’m so proud of you, baby," you whispered, your voice strained as you rode out the waves of pleasure. "So proud…"

With a final, desperate grind against his mouth, the climax washed over you, your body convulsing as you cried out, the release crashing through you in waves. Spencer didn't stop, his tongue continuing to work, not wanting you to take away his favorite treat. 

His mouth and tongue continued their relentless work, his eagerness only spurring you on as your cries grew louder. "Oh! Good boy!" you gasped, the praise slipping from your lips as your hips thrust faster against his mouth, riding the wave of pleasure that was building once again.

"You like tasting yourself?" you panted, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts as your body moved with a desperate rhythm. Spencer moaned beneath you, his muffled response sending vibrations through your core, and it only drove you to push harder against him.

"Like it coming out of me?" you taunted, your voice strained and full of need as you felt his tongue lapping eagerly at the mess you had made together. The idea of him cleaning up his own release, desperate to please you, sent shivers down your spine, adding to the already overwhelming sensation.

Spencer whimpered beneath you, his body reacting to your words even as he remained restrained, helpless to do anything but obey. The combination of your command, the praise, and the undeniable power you held over him had him lost in submission, and you could feel the tension building in both of you again.

"Such a good boy," you praised, your voice trembling with the intensity of your pleasure. "So good at doing exactly what Mommy needs." You rode him harder, your body nearing its limit once more as Spencer's tongue worked tirelessly beneath you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your panting breaths, your moans mixing with Spencer's muffled noises as he continued to drive you closer to the edge. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hips grinding down faster, chasing that final release.

With a breathless cry, your third climax crashed through you, your entire body quivering as Spencer’s tongue carried you over the edge once again. You moaned his name, gripping his hair tightly as you rode out the waves of pleasure, not slowing until every last bit of satisfaction had pulsed through you.

You pulled yourself off of Spencer, and immediately he let out a whine, his lips pouting in protest, not wanting you to take his favorite treat away, he could eat you out for hours. His neediness tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t help but smile as you gently stroked his hair.

"Baby, Mommy is sensitive," you said softly, your voice filled with affection. 

Spencer pouted even more, his eyes big and round as he mumbled, "I just wanna make you feel good."

"You did make me feel so good, baby," you reassured him, your smile widening as you saw his face light up, the joy radiating from his eyes.

"Am I your good boy again?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope and a bit of that endearing vulnerability that always made you melt.

Your heart softened instantly, and you leaned down, cupping his face in your hands as you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "You’re always my good boy," you whispered against his mouth. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mommy," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, eyes full of adoration.

After you untied him, you took your time massaging his arms and wrists, soothing the slight redness left behind by the ties. You helped him into the shower with you, gently guiding him as he leaned heavily against you, still needing your care. The warm water cascaded over both of you as you softly washed his body, your touches gentle and nurturing. Spencer rested his head against your shoulder, completely relying on your strength, his exhaustion clear as he sighed softly, content in your embrace.

Once you were both dried off and dressed for bed, you brought him back to the comfort of your bed, where you massaged lotion into his arms, making sure he felt taken care of. Your lips peppered soft kisses over his skin as you worked, your voice a soothing murmur as you whispered how good he was, how proud you were of him.

"You’re so good, Spencer," you murmured between kisses. "Always my good boy."

Spencer sighed, his body fully relaxed now as he basked in your affection, letting your words and touch wash over him like a warm blanket. His eyes fluttered closed, a small smile playing on his lips as you continued to kiss and praise him, reminding him of just how much he meant to you.

“Mommy…” Spencer’s voice was soft, hesitant, as he lay beside you, his head resting on your chest.

“Mhm?” you murmured back, feeling the weight of tiredness pulling at you, though still present enough to listen to him.

“Can I suck…?” His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty.

You giggled softly, a wave of affection washing over you for your needy little baby. "Of course, Spence," you murmured, lifting your shirt to give him the comfort he craved.

Without hesitation, Spencer nestled his head underneath, latching onto your breast with a soft sigh. His body relaxed against yours, and you could feel the tension melt away as he suckled gently, his breathing becoming slow and steady.

You stroked his hair lovingly, the intimate moment between you quiet and peaceful. “You’re such a good boy,” you whispered softly, letting him find the comfort he needed as you both slowly drifted off to sleep, his head resting safely against your chest.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[idontliekmondays]

excerpts from lindsay's old classmate

1.28.13 I have really tried to like Lilith but after two weeks with her I can't. My thinking on it is she hasn't given a reason to like her. It's more like she tries to complain, storm off, be rude, and ignore the rest of us as much as she can. Her special skill is that she can walk anywhere in high heels.

2.05.13 Lilith did not get any roti because she decided to stay in her room the whole day.

Dance lessons. And a full shot of me in uniform. Thai dancing does not require a lot of movement so it can be done in a pencil skirt. Left side, front to back: Deanna, Me, Donna, Lilith. Right side: Dance teacher, Karen.

2.07.13 (I have mentioned before that Lilith gets motion sick. So today instead of getting in the front seat like she's supposed to she climbed in the back of the songthaew with everyone else. The whole time I'm praying in my head "Don't throw up everywhere, don't throw up everywhere" because she started looking sick about half-way through the trip back. I really do not understand her logic).

Drexler is forcing Lilith to go to yoga or meditation (it's so nice she's paying all this money to go to another country to sit in her room on the computer all day.)

2.08.13 More creepy messages from Lilith's talking horse doodle today. She told us that she gets all these from a tumblr account called Crazy Horse(?). I also don't think she gets what all of them mean, because the horse's first message today was "Pumpkin Jokes.PDF". Really confused on that one. She erased that and had the horse say "Becoming a bounty hunter is not easy but I am here." I can see these two coming from a tumblr account, though they make zero sense to me. She then drew a dog and gave it this dialogue "Timid little girls she never put fairies on the summer gathering place for the Nazi elite." I'm really getting freaked out by some of her messages and was very thankful when Ajan Pranut (our afternoon teacher today) erased them.

2.11.13 Watched Lilith fight with a bee for her cake. She hates insects so she literally flew from her chair to get away from it. Then thought swearing would shoo it away. The bee cared more about the cake.

2.13.13 Originally I was going to say writer but Lilith wants to be a writer (today's creepy horse message was "Bring me all the people and I will make sure they are burning." Don't think I want to see anymore of her work)

When everyone returned we had a review session (except Niko and Lilith because her boyfriend broke up with her today. Most of us had to take a moment to go "You had a boyfriend??").

2.14.13 Last post I said Lilith's boyfriend broke up with her. Today she was excused from half of our midterm because she told Drexler she was up all night. Later, Donna informed me that she had downed a whole bottle of wine to help deal with her feelings. That's definitely healthy (sarcasm).

2.15.13 Drexler informed me he was forcing Lilith and myself to go to Tai Chi today with his wife Barbara.

Lilith stood there most of the time refusing to follow the movements and afterwards said "It wasn't her thing". For those who know Lilith at Coe, I saw her wearing ballet flats today, not heels!!

We complained about Lilith and Donna told us the funny story of how at Multicultural fusion orientation, where every African American freshman was, Lilith announced that she hated black people during her introduction. If you ever wanted a stupid idea, here's one of the dumbest ones ever. She has not been invited back since.

2.18.13 Lilith grossed everyone at her table out by hogging the delicious fried chicken, eating it with her fingers, and dipping her spoon (the only utensil that goes in your mouth besides chopsticks) into the soup. I feel Barbara has caught on to her.

Some of the people I'm here with. From left to right: Lilith, Niko, our guide/the Dean, Alessa. This temple was at the second ruins. I think it was a temple.

2.20.13 Forgot about going to Tai Chi today so got going a little later than planned. Lilith did not join us this time (my prayers have been answered!!) so she will be forced to go to yoga or something else. Barbara is the type of teacher who believes that if we talk to her we will realize she's just shy, not a bad person. This makes me remember she has a Hitler poster in her single at Coe. I don't think we'll be painting each others toe nails and gossiping about boys any time this lifetime. Or the next.

2.22.13 On the way back from buying detergent I walked past Lilith who made a point of ignoring me. I get the feeling she doesn't want to be friends.

2.28.13 Lilith's creepy horse message of the day was "Is the dance floor calling? No."

Lilith, who's half Laotian and this was her first time visiting Laos, spent her time in her room on her computer. Again I wonder why she came on this trip.

3.03.13 The other skit was... awkward. Lilith was randomly sitting on the ground talking about absinthe and Deanna happily stormed out at the end.

3.11.13 I had to sit by Lilith who dressed herself as a hooker. If my grandma saw the way she was dressed, that would be the first word out of her mouth. She bought some platform high heels that don't have a heel. I will take a creeper picture when I get the chance because they are so outrageous. They look like Lady Gaga shoes as a better description.

3.15.13 One thing I did edit out was how completely disgusting and rude Lilith was today. She actually belched at one of the Vietnamese students. Her behavior ranged from obnoxious to 'I was raised in a cave by monkeys'. The students were very concerned that she wasn't having fun.

3.18.13 Watched Drexler try to talk to Lilith about some issues that she has been causing but we watched their body language get more and more closed so it was probably not successful.

3.26.13 When you get out of an elevator it is a common prank to push all the other buttons. Instead, I pushed all the buttons on the way up to our floor. Deanna and Donna took it as a joke but you could feel the loathing rolling off Lilith in waves so much it scared the others. I am not sad to say it made me happy to make her angry. I am a terrible person, but she is worse. One story the host students keep talking about often is how when Lilith showed up at her host's house she asked for potato chips. When none were given she asked to be taken to the bar.

3.30.13 Had to sit by Lilith. Again. I'm starting to believe that I am put in charge of her, that Drexler thinks I can handle this responsibility.

We are the first Asia Term to come here. It's all thanks to Lilith who's half Laotian and her dad wanting her to meet his side of the family. That's happening tomorrow. Perhaps getting sick suddenly would be the ideal way to deal with meeting a family of Nazis. This is her first time meeting her dad's family so we are expecting her to hate them immensely and the day to be awkward or they will make her their new leader.

3.31.13 She decided to wear her hooker shirt today to meet her dad's family for the first time. Hope she doesn't regret that later on.

4.04.13 In previous years Asia Term has been there for a week but because Lindsay wanted to meet her relatives our time in Cambodia has been cut down.

4.25.13 Lilith has gotten on everyones last nerve. Including Drexler's. It's a good thing we're coming home in a little bit.

source

[ikilledyvette]

(Part II of my seriously condensed 9-1-1 fic is here! Hope people enjoy, even though it's all a bit rushed!)

Part I

Sunday afternoon, Father’s Day. It’s always a hard day for Bobby, but usually, working helps him get through it. Today has been ... worse, and not just for him. Bobby finds Eddie on the couch, staring blankly into nothing. Bobby sits down beside him, a silent invitation to talk. Eddie doesn’t always take him up on it.

Today, Eddie says, “He hasn’t called,” and Bobby reminds him the day isn’t over yet. Eddie asks, “What if he doesn’t call?” and Bobby reminds him about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. 

“Every day you’re both alive is another chance to make things right,” Bobby says. “Don’t give up on tomorrow just yet, Eddie.”

Buck comes by then, and Eddie takes off to give the two some space. Buck says, “So, I had dinner with my parents the other night.” Bobby asks how it went, and Buck says, “Yeah, not great. They had, uh. A lot to say about me, you know. Going through a gay phase, or something. Wanting attention. Getting too old for, I don’t know. Making stuff up, I guess.”

Bobby nods. Cautiously, he says, “Sounds to me like they still don’t know you very well.”

Buck huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Thing is, everything they said ... it’s all stuff I’ve thought too, you know? Like, I’ve always done stupid things to get people’s attention. Their attention, Tommy’s. Yours. And if ... if what I’m feeling, who I am, is ... is real ... how could I have not known before, right? And I, I do know how I feel about Tommy—I like him so much, Bobby, you don’t even know—”

Bobby knows. Everyone knows. Buck’s joy is not subtle; it shines through him, a thing to behold.

“—but sometimes I still—” Buck breaks off and sighs. “Well, maybe that’s why I reacted so badly last night. Cause sometimes, I worry they’re right.”

“They’re not,” Bobby says immediately.

“How do you know that?”

And Bobby hesitates, not sure Buck is going to want to hear this right now. But still, he says, “Because I know you, kid.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, smiling a little. “You do. Bobby, I’m. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Cause that night we talked about Tommy? You didn’t ask me to, to explain myself, or suggest maybe I wasn’t thinking things through. You didn’t need me to prove anything. You just accepted it, Tommy and me. You accepted me.” Buck shakes his head. “I told this to Maddie once, but sometimes it’s easier to lash out at the person you know is always going to forgive you. My parents, that’s not them, never will be. But you, uh. You’re safe.”

Bobby swallows a little at that. He wants to be that person for Buck—but Bobby know he isn’t, can’t be. He’s the reason his family is dead; he’s the reason so many people are dead. 

“I know I hurt you,” Bobby says. “If I hadn’t left the way I did, Gerrard would never have been captain, and—”

“You think this is about Gerrard? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.” But Buck’s voice is teasing, lessening the sting. “Yeah, I mean, working under Gerrard was ... rough, for a lot reasons. But that’s not ... Hen was the one mad at you for that.”

Bobby is aware. Hen had forgiven him pretty quickly, but her attitude towards Bobby on his first day back had been ... cool, to say the least. Bobby understands why, had prepared himself for Hen’s anger, potentially Chimney’s, too. They both went through a lot, working under Gerrard the first time around. Bobby had expected them to be upset.

He’s not sure why he hadn’t expected Buck to be.

“I’m not mad about Gerrard,” Buck tells him. “I’m mad that you lied. You—you were saying goodbye all day, only we didn’t know, I didn’t know. And you just—you were just going to leave?”

“I didn’t want—”

“You didn’t want us to change your mind,” Buck says, now visibly upset. “You—you said goodbye, Bobby. I didn’t realize it then, what you were doing, but—if you were gone, if you left, and I could have done something to stop it, stop you from, from—"

And Bobby realizes suddenly that Buck isn’t just talking about Bobby quitting.

“Hey,” Bobby says. “Listen. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“For how long?” Buck asks, and it’s not mockery this time. It’s pleading. Anxious. Young. For as much Buck has been through, for as much progress he’s made over the last seven years, Bobby is struck every now and then by how young Buck still is.

“That’s not up to me,” Bobby says and points up, skyward, at the man upstairs. “And listen, Buck, I won’t deny I was ... I was in a pretty dark place a couple of months ago. I should’ve been more honest about that. But I’m here, and I mean to stay here as long as I can. Okay? I’m not going anywhere without a fight, I promise.”

Buck inhales, a deep, shuddery breath, and Bobby hugs him, and Buck hugs Bobby back. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again. “I think, maybe. I think I’ve just been really scared.”

Bobby hugs him a little tighter and says, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kid.”

Footsteps on the stairs interrupt them a few minutes later. “Not to break up this long overdue moment,” Chimney says, “but Buck, you’ve got another visitor.”

Buck turns with a little dread, expecting his parents and not sure he’s ready to face them just yet—but it’s Maddie. This time, it’s Bobby and Chimney who disappear downstairs to give the Buckley siblings some space.

Maddie tells Buck that their parents are flying home. “I told them to go,” she says. “And not to come back.”

“Chimney told you,” Buck realizes, resigned and more than a little annoyed.

“Of course, he did,” Maddie says. She’s slightly exasperated but mostly worried. “Why didn’t you?” 

She thinks he’ll say something about not wanting to ruin Maddie’s relationship with their parents or Jee Yun’s relationships with her grandparents, and Buck does lead with that. But mostly, Buck’s ashamed of how he petty it was, bringing up Daniel. “I didn’t want you to think that I, I resented him,” he says. “I really don’t, Maddie. He was just a kid, and he never got the chance to grow up and, and I wish I could’ve given him that chance. I wish I could’ve met the person he would’ve become.”

“I know,” Maddie tells him, and reminds him that it’s not his fault; it was never his responsibility to save Daniel. Buck says he doesn’t blame their mom for slapping him after what he said, and Maddie, steely, says, “Well, I do. For that, and also for how they talked to you—no, it’s not okay. What if Jee grows up and realizes she likes both boys and girls someday? I don't want Mom talking to her like that. Do you?"

Buck recoils a little, and Maddie nods. “Would you be okay if Mom ever hit Jee Yun?” she asks. “Even if she said something terrible? Even if she deserved it?”

“She could never deserve it,” Buck says, knowing what Maddie’s doing but unable to keep quiet, not when his sister looks so upset, not with the ghost of Doug so heavy in the air. He hates to think of how many times Doug must have told Maddie that she was to blame for everything he did to her. “But Maddie, I don’t think Mom or Dad would ever—”

“Maybe not,” Maddie says, “but that doesn’t make them safe. They screw up, and they always feel bad about it, but they never really apologize. They never put in the work. They just ... make excuses and expect that we’ll forgive them, but I think I’m done with that now. I’m done with relationships where it’s only my responsibility to try harder, to smooth things over, to say the right thing, to always forgive. Maybe someday, if Mom and Dad actually work on themselves, but for right now ..." Maddie shakes her head. "Enough is enough.”

Buck gets that, he does. But he admits he isn’t sure he’s ready to cut off his parents yet, isn’t sure he wants too. He still wants to keep trying, and Maddie says that’s okay. What matters is, they still have each other. And she won’t try to change his mind if he doesn’t try to change hers.

Buck offers her a pinky swear. Maddie smiles and hooks her finger around his.

*

Meanwhile, downstairs, a phone rings.

“Christopher?” Eddie says, and takes a few steps, turning away from everyone. 

It is Christopher. He calls to wish his dad a happy Father’s Day, but also to say he loves him, and while he’s not quite ready to come home yet, he still wants to come home, and maybe soon.

“I miss you,” Christopher tells him. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. But you have to stop lying to me.”

“I can do that,” Eddie promises.

“And go back to therapy.”

Eddie laughs. “Already on top of that one, bud. Maybe ... we could go together, sometime, when you come home?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says. “I’d like that. I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Chris,” Eddie says. He hangs up, takes a breath before turning around, and announces, “Christopher called!" as if everyone—including Maddie and Buck, leaning over the balcony—weren’t badly pretending not to eavesdrop.

Everyone cheers and rushes Eddie. 

“What did I tell you?” Bobby asks him. “What did I tell you?” Hen asks, too, and Eddie says, “Yeah, yeah,” to both of them, with wet eyes and a shaky, hopeful smile.

“This calls for champagne!” Chimney announces. “But since we’re all on duty ... cheap coffee and leftover Ding Dong, Gerrard is Gone cake it is!”

—All in all, it’s the best Father’s Day the 118 has had in a long, long time. 

(And that's it! Apologies, fellow Tommy fans, that he didn’t make it into Part 2—but you know. If Tommy’s at the fire house, who’s flying the plane? Actually, Tommy’s too busy babysitting Jee Yun, and—to both Buck and Chimney’s horror—introducing her to all the worst Star Wars movies. She loves them.)

Tag List @lavenderleahy @v88sy

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 8

CW: Mental Health Struggles - Guide to content warnings

Chad: How are you today Carson

Carson: Not good. I mucked up at school

Chad: Oh? It’s not exam season is it

Carson: No. I just... I was painting and Ariadne came to talk to me and then the bell rang and all my intrusive thoughts started up and she didn’t finish what she was saying. She probably thinks I’m a rude idiot

Chad: Carson, remember how we talked about mind reading?

Carson: Sort of. It’s like imagining what another person is thinking

Chad: Yep. It’s also a notoriously unreliable train of thought. There’s no way for us to know what someone else is thinking

Carson: Unless we ask?

Chad: Exactly. So while it might be easy to imagine that everyone is thinking the worst of us, it doesn’t make it true. How have you found talking to her when the intrusive thoughts are more quiet?

Carson: Good. Really good. I held her hands and it felt great

Chad: Have you read up on asexuality at all?

Carson: Oh I have and it was good! Like just... exactly what I feel and think has a name. It was... validating. Yeah, validating. I don’t know how touch averse I am, I guess I’ll find out with time

Chad: I’m glad to hear that. Is there anything else you want to discuss before we get to today’s workshop?

Carson: No I’m good

Chad: Great. So last time was all about identifying your symptoms and thoughts. Today we’re going to revise that and discuss some ways to apply reasoned arguments to those thoughts

After he had finished with Chad, Carson hoped on the ferry home and gave his mum a call.

Carson: Hey Mum, my session is all finished. Do you need me to grab anything on the way home

Kayleigh: Oh sweetie I’m sending the new address to your phone

Carson: New address?

Kayleigh: YES! The movers came while you were at school and we’re all set up

Carson: So strangers were touching my stuff? Mum do you know how many germs they could have left?

Kayleigh: We got you some brand new stuff to, don’t worry. You’re going to love it. If you want to clean anything I can help, okay?

Carson worried all the way to the new house. People touching his stuff? When he got there he was pleased to see there were no internal stairs though, much safer. Kayleigh showed him his room and while he was apprehensive he couldn’t deny that his mum had done a good job of preserving his things. Once he was settled Kayleigh left him to do his homework. The light here was much nicer to, but he’d probably have to be careful for mold with his room sitting above the water. Could sharks break through floors like Lachrymose Leeches if they smelled food on him?

Harvey: How’d your appointment go? Are you liking Chad

Carson: Yeah he’s really chill. Helps me not feel so stressed

Kayleigh: I’m sorry we didn’t give you a heads up about the move but we didn’t want you to make yourself sick with worry before we were here

Carson: *sighs* It’s not cool mum

Harvey: It wasn’t just her, we decided together. Be mad at both of us if you are

Carson: Do sharks break through floors?

Kayleigh: I don’t think so but if you want to know I’m sure your sister knows

Harvey: She is a marine biologist

Carson: Yeah I might do that

Kayleigh: And we’re hiring a maid. They’ll come every weekday and clean however much of your room and bathroom you want

Harvey: You’re so smart sugar

Carson: Oh watcher, could you wait until I’m out of the room before kissing? Yeesh

Our first visitor was eldest child Charlie!

Harvey: You found us!

Charlie: Too easily. The paparazzi are going to find you here you know

Harvey: As if, I don’t think they know where Sulani even is. Come play chess?

Charlie follows her dad to the back porch, gives her mum a kiss on the cheek hello, and sets down to play. Harvey however is not a great player and the game is soon over with Charlie the victor.

Kayleigh: Alright my turn

Charlie: You think you can win

Kayleigh: I taught you how to play remember

Charlie: Yeah with a long gap and more kids in the middle

Kayleigh: I’ve been tuning my skills for promotion, you’ll see

Indeed Charlie does. Although she does her best to distract her mum during the game with claims of spotting sea monsters in the distance, Kayleigh is the final victor of the night.

Previous ... Next

[meamiiikiii]

kagepro day...

[the-priestess-of-dawn]

Been thinking about a postgame scenario that goes in a direction I don't think canon would ever take in a million years, but like... I think it could be really compelling...

And that's the idea of Chrom becoming Plegia's king after Grima's defeat. And specifically giving up his claim to Ylisse's throne to do it (leaving it to Lucina when she's old enough).

Because here's the thing... The game ends with Grima's defeat/Robin's return in the sacrifice ending. It doesn't address what happens to Plegia at all, and while I personally maintain that Aversa is the most qualified candidate to rule, her canon ending provides that she goes back to the village she was born in. So, fine. Let's give her that.

But SOMEONE has to do SOMETHING because realistically, Plegia is in dire straits. Validar, the king and the leader of the Grimleal, is dead. He gave, like, ALL of Plegia's resources to the Ylissean League (well, okay, we don't know how much, if any, he left in reserve, but... He really needed Walhart gone and it's not like he had any reason to think that anyone would need resources once Grima was running around, so... chances are good there's little to nothing left in the wake of the averted apocalypse). And the population has been utterly devastated, because not only did people (exactly how many is unclear, but presumably it took more than just a couple) have to sacrifice themselves to renew the fell dragon's power, but Grima was also spawning Grimleal onto their back at the final battle. Their losses are so immense...

So first of all, Chrom is definitely responsible for taking all their resources and setting half of them on fire (Now to be fair, Flavia and Basilio are also responsible, but... Idk, I kinda feel like they'd bicker with each other over who has to do the crappy parts of the job and then agree that they should just ask Chrom if he can do it. Like "Haha, if you didn't want to deal with thieves ambushing the Longfort to steal construction supplies, you shouldn't have gone and beaten me at the last tournament!" "Oh, shut up. Let's see if Chrom can send his thief friend over to talk these guys down. Or kill them, whichever." I mean, Chrom is always going to be their guy who knows a guy.) There's just no way Chrom would abandon the surviving Plegians who need help anyway, but especially not when he knows the war with Valm would've ended before it could begin without them.

Of course, there's the historical hostility between Ylisse and Plegia to consider, but... If anyone's protesting, it's probably the Ylisseans. Because the survivng Plegians, uh... probably were never Grima's most devoted followers in the first place (if you really wanted to give Grima your life, you'd rush to the front of the line at the Dragon's Table, right?) and even if they used to consider themselves true Grimleal, the religion's leadership is destroyed, and—for the purpose of this scenario, I'm considering it post-sacrifice ending—the fell dragon is gone and not coming back. These people narrowly avoided becoming Grima's breakfast or Grima's meat shields. They all almost certainly know someone who wasn't as lucky. And the one who saved them... Well, it was Chrom, wasn't it? Because he believed in humanity enough to challenge the concept of fate, a fate that the people of Plegia were surely taught was inescapable. Despite their history with Ylisse, it's hardly unreasonable for them to see Chrom as a savior to them specifically. The second coming of the Hero-King who ought for the lives of all humans, really.

And yeah, I'm going here... Chrom is Marth's descendant. Marth was Altean. Former Altea is is modern Plegia, so technically, the people can argue that he's actually theirs.

Doesn't it sort of make sense, even? Plegia is ruined, the god to whom the theocracy was devoted killed. "What we need is to restore the glory of ancient Altea!" And who better to help them than Chrom, Marth's successor in blood and in spirit?

But Chrom would frown and say no. Of course he's going to help them restore their country to prosperity—or at least to independent, peaceful functioning. But king? Sheesh, that's going too far. Come on guys, you don't really want that. Besides, he's already ruling Ylisse...

Except, he's not ruling it as Exalt. At least, not at first he's not. He forswore the title when he started his rule and in canon he is only official welcomed as Exalt after Grima's defeat. But what if he just... continued to not accept it. It's not like he ever wanted to be Exalt. He only has the right to rule because Emmeryn died—because he failed to protect her. It has nothing to do with any of his successes.

But if the Plegians made him their king, then it would be because of his own accomplishments.

And in a way I also can't help but find it heartwarming, because it was the Plegian people who got him to truly understand Emmeryn's ideals. He wanted peace, he wanted to follow her path, but it wasn't until the Plegians took her sacrifice for the peace offer it was and refused to continue fighting Ylisse that Chrom was finally able to comprehend what it meant that Emmeryn believed that all people wanted the same thing, that peace is something for everyone and not just purehearted saints like her who would never hurt a fly. So wouldn't it be sweet to expand on that existing connection? For the people who once bore a grudge against him and his nation to say, actually, our home is your home and you belong with us... For Chrom to reach back and decide that these are his people and that he will protect them...

Especially because that's what he's always done for Robin. Your father doesn't get to determine your path for you, your past doesn't dictate your future, you always have a place beside me because we are two halves of a greater whole. This AU is definitely a chrobin AU, because when Robin gets back I want them to rule at his side (after all, I do have feelings about Grima's loyalty to a people who have been praying to them to end their suffering for a thousand years).

Now, I do think that Chrom would never leave Ylisse while little Lucina was still growing up, but... Honestly it would probably take quite some time to establish a castle for Plegia's new ruler anyway (especially if they go super hard on the Altean revival theme and want it to be IN former Altean territory, which has become the "border wastes" and undoubtedly needs some help... But EVERYWHERE in Plegia needs help, so what better time to give the land some attention?) So when Lucina is an adult she can take over as Ylisse's true Exalt, and Chrom can focus his efforts on the other side of the border. I think he'd still be awkward about the whole thing, approaching it like "Well, I guess I'm here if you all still want me..." but Robin's there to give him confidence and the people there are SO excited for their hero to come and live with them and together they all usher in a new era of peace and prosperity as Ylisse and Plegia themselves become like two halves of a greater whole.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[pardonmydelays]

poppyyyyyy

what’s your favourite piece of clothing that tyler has

ok, this question made me so happy because there's literally nothing in this world i'd love to talk about more than tyler joseph's clothes. like a normal person. ok. let's go.

FLORAL KIMONO. it's so fucking cool and i hope he will never stop wearing it actually. forever iconic.

SLUTTY TANK TOP. iconic, iconic, iconic. makes my brain go UDYEU37328384^#&%. i mean, can you even blame me... i think he also has a white version of it but i prefer black.

CLANCY'S JACKET. black. oversized. looks cool with a cat mask. makes him look like a smol bean. what's not to love.

THIS FUCKING BLOUSE. idk man. i want one too actually. it's so pretty i want to cry. he is so pretty i want to cry.

THOSE FUCKING PANTS. like seriously the logo makes them look so cool. and they look incredible with this t-shirt and boots, ugh. this whole outfit, i swear.

THE JACKET. he's a fucking rockstar. seriously, look at him. oh my god holy shit. just look at him. please. (this jacket deserves to be seen. i had to post more pics. i'm sorry. you're welcome).

THE MOTHERFUCKING BEANIE. i mean come on. this beanie is so short it doesn't even cover his ears. it doesn't make any sense to me. it's so fucking stupid. any normal person would look like a fucking idiot in it. and yet... tyler somehow looks so fucking hot. i can't explain. but i want one too.

i could also write another post about all of those oversized t-shirts he owns. i love and want all of them. but let's just leave it like that for now.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Me: I should probably clean my room, unpack, find my laptop and finish the work tasks that were due yesterday

Also me: I think I'm going to hot glue flowers, vines, and ribbons to a basket instead :)

[tittyinfinity]

My mother confuses the fuck out of me

[freebooter4ever]

Sending love from one depressive spiral to another.

One thing that's helped me, as I'm coming out of this one, was getting my friends to pick prompts for me (to write in my case) which I then committed to filling BADLY. Because sometimes intending to create stuff that is just dumb and shit, means it doesn't mind that my brain tells me that it's dumb and shit because I'm like "yes brain, I know, that was the brief" and then before you know it you're back in the creating zone again

Tldr: commit to being shit. 🤷‍♀️

Hello, thank you! Depression is a little shithead because it takes different forms for everybody and sometimes warps depending on the circumstances so even when i think i have a handle on it and can prepare for gaps in my exercise routine that keeps me functional....something will happen and throw me for a loop and im back to struggling. For me, when im like this, that constant voice in my head drowning out everything else - and i mean everything - saying 'you're worthless, this is pointless' over and over and over and over is almost paralyzing. Try writing a cover letter when your brain is telling you that you are probably the most useless person ever and you cant see anything even remotely good about yourself. Its why i have friends proofread if i make any major changes to my generic letter content. Especially this one friend who has the same problem - he cant sell himself, i literally can hear him talk himself in circles into thinking he's old and washed up and not valuable on the market anymore - and i cant sell myself. But i think he's the most amazing talented person ever, and he's never said it but im pretty sure he thinks similar of me, so we check each others work pitches to make sure they sound suitably enthusiastic and glowing. Ive had other people also read my letters but if they dont understand how depression can sit on the brain and make it impossible to write this shit, they dont quite know how to help me. While my one friend who gets it knows that he needs to tell me 'hey, you left out this very important vital contribution to that one project, dumbass' (only nicer lol). So i have one very happy sounding, very aggrandizing letter that i tailor to wherever im sending it. But thats all stuff i need to do. Its vital, its a requirement, i can force myself to sit down and do it.

Personal art isnt exactly a requirement. So instead of making myself sit down and do it, i can just lie on the floor feeling numb and wish i dont exist anymore 🙃

[piplupod]

really wish people would be kinder about preventative measures. i am tired of being treated like I am paranoid for wearing a mask, for wearing tick repellent when hiking, even for simple shit like wearing sunscreen ??? 😭😭😭 can people just be like... chill about other ppls choices. esp if theyre preventative measures that will keep you and your body safe from shit that makes ur life worse? just be cool idk goddamn :[

[barkingangelbaby]

venting so much i ran out of tags lmao

[infizero]

grgrhgahahh i wanna read more pokespe but i cant do it on my phone and im not unpacking my stuff until the morning

[softshuji]

y'know it's a night when hal sits and eats cereal in the dark room at 1.30am.