#the Spotted Sow

[phoenixcatch7]

Looking through the transformation page of the zelda wiki (whoever did that I love you thank you for supporting my late night fixations) and NO ONE EVER TOLD ME

Oracle Link, aka Legend, has a ring THAT TURNS HIM INTO HYRULE??!!

WHY - WHAT - IT DOESN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING

Oh the SHENANIGANS

[ozzzzzie]

o_o

[jensownzoo]

Got all the fall seeds planted in various containers this week. It's about a month behind normal, but it's been so hot that I was afraid everything would be programmed to bolt immediately. It's going to be 90F today and tomorrow, then a short cold spell (but not frost), then we'll have appropriate weather for germinating everything.

I'm trying something different with the Tidy Cats litter tubs. I usually fill some up 3/4 full of water and shove them in black plastic contactor bags to serve as thermal mass in my cold frame. This year I'm going to also plant in them too (with holes drilled in the bottom) instead of using the earthboxes. I think it will make for a more compact structure, but we'll see if it works. The wire shelving is there because the wildlife has gone nuts with digging everything up in their own preparations for winter. It's very annoying.

But look to the right in that pic. That's my very vigorously growing cucumber and sweet potato bed that I put together during July. And look:

Just got 5 pints of gsrlic dill pickles from the Suyo Long cucumbers and I have those two Beit Alpha cakes to make some tzatziki with later today. There are quite a number of additional fruit setting too. With all the aged wood chips both incorporated into the soil and used as mulch, the bed may keep warm enough to allow me to harvest them even. You know, unless it freezes.

I also went and collected on a few permissions obtained earlier in the season and came home with three clumps of sprouting unharvested garlic and three cuttings from an enormous garden sage bush. The separated cloves ended up being three 6' rows of garlic in a raised bed that I was going to just grow vining flowers and African marigolds in next season. I stripped the leaves off the sage for the dehydrator and will try to root the stems to keep indoors over the winter and plant out in the spring.

Also also, I'm pretty stoked at my seed-saving/gathering efforts this year:

Not pictured are the buckets of French marigold and cosmos seeds I also collected. Got several new things to try growing as well as more pepper seeds than any one person could possibly need. May package some of them up to drop off at the food pantry in the spring. Gonna bomb my alley with the cosmos seeds come spring too. The bees freaking LOVED those flowers this year and I aim to please those fuzzy butts as well as beautify.

So the garden is pretty well in hand. Now for the semi-annual garden shed clean out and tidying to get done this week. (And then the garage, ugh)

[jlf23tumble]

See to me the umbro shirt is like the Olivia tattoo - could it be the exact same vintage shirt in a slightly different color worn just a few months apart from some man he “hasn’t been in the same room with for x # of years?” Could that tattoo say Olina or be a tribute to a dead cat? It COULD but let’s use our brains here and even if they are different shirts and the tattoo has nothing to do with Ms Wilde, Harry clearly has no issue with letting his fandom spin out and make those connections.

The only reason I feel the need to defend larries is when harries shit on actual evidence of some HL connection in the piles (mountains) of other BS reaches while at the same time refusing to acknowledge the Olivia tattoo exists. It’s the exact same behavior as the people you hate, yo! You are the same (down to the lady hating)!!!

OLINA, SCREAM!!!! My own uo is that Harry--much like Louis--resents the shit out of a lot of his fans and really doesn't mind spinnin' out waiting for ya round and round for funzies. Bored millionaires--they're just like us!

I'm with you on the defense side, it IS hella clear they had a thing goin' on, nobody knows where it netted out, and life is still happening, things go on, things go off! I just wish it wasn't such a weird double down binary ipso facto for late-stage larries, and harries, for that matter, jesus, the similarities, the way both extreme ends of the spectrum sound so fucking crazy, bizarro mirrors of each other, makes u think

[tggardens]

We did it! That's a Five Spot! That's a Five Spot flower in the yard where there were none before. The Baby Blue Eyes in the back yard might have been there before but these are definitely new.

[call-me-lemon]

Im still thinking about that shit my boss said like legit how dare she

I was on my hands and kneese that day scrubbing her crusty ass shelves for her yucky ass bisuness, I followed her and my managers instructions to the fucking letter and took the heat whenever the instructions conflicted with eachother

Its legit not even just a me thing, since I started working there less than a year ago shes had to replace her entire wait staff and half of her kitchen staff.

She legit hired new guys for the pizza station instead of just finishing my training. She knows Im a fast learner but she insists she cant trust me for some fucking reason. Like is she fucking stupid?

After she intruded in my personal life, asked invasive questions, and tried to mother me.

Not to mention she hasnt even been sending me pay stubs since fucking august so I cant even confirm shes been paying me the right wages. Minimum wage in my area got bumped up by a dollar in september.

[bixels]

End-of-Splatoon thoughts.

Thinking about how since the very start, Splatoon has had a feature where players can draw and post artwork and spot them as graffiti on walls or billboards. Or how the weapons have always been paint brushes and rollers and ballpoint pens. Since its inception, Splatoon has been dedicated to engaging its players with the act of creation and creative expression, showing them how their art can build communities and (literally) change the world.

Thinking about finding golden human-made music discs buried underground for thousands of years, and a grand finale music festival. About the Voyager Golden Records. About those human handprints etched into concrete in Alterna. Did those human artists know it would end like this? First a fiery death and then, eventually, a worldwide celebration of music to represent our shared past, present, and future. Did they know that their songs, insignificant in the face of extinction, would one day become the solution that will save the next dominant life-form from the same fate?

Thinking about how eerily similar the Octarian domes are to Alterna. About how close Inklings and Octolings were to repeating the same mistakes as humans. But their doomed fates were undone not by some miracle technology or military power or a rocket, but by music.

Thinking about how humans wiped themselves out with war, and our parting gifts were liquid crystals that somehow paired with the DNA of primeval inklings and somehow infused them with our memories and culture and a Song. And 12,000 years in the future, that same Song will end a war.

Thinking about how art and music and punk culture and rock & roll and friendly competition and petty arguments and water guns aren’t uniquely human concepts, but the fundamental qualities of intelligent life. An inheritable spirit that can cross evolutionary bounds.

Thinking about the theme of Splatoon, that art and music and fun will not die with the human race. That every piece of art we create is a seed we sow for future generations to reap. That our legacy is ingrained into the crust of the earth. That long after we’re gone, the oceans will remember, and they’ll pick up where we left off.

Thinking about how Splatoon says that the essence of humanity –– the thing that will outlive us –– isn't war or prejudice or destruction or greed, it's a song.

[kyseya]

You reap what you sow

Yandere farm brothers x f.reader

—————-

Just your typical luck, your car had suddenly broken down in the middle of nowhere. What will you do now? You can’t stay there, there’s no food or water available. Luckily, you hadn’t run out of recourses just yet but it was very close to being gone.

You stepped out of the car and went around it, staring it down with waves of irritation rolling off you. You tried coming up with a plan. The next stop was miles away and it was nothing but a daydream that you’d be able to make it there on foot.

Right as you were about to give up and let the animals take you, the sound of wheels on gravel caught your attention. Turning around, you saw another car speeding towards you. Yes! You were saved! You waved at the person in the car and luckily enough it stopped. ‘I’m gonna pray it’s not Michael Meyers lost cousin or something.’

The door to the passenger side opened and you spotted a man sitting behind the wheel. He was young, around your age, probably a little older perhaps. He had dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. You instantly noticed a scar below his left eye as you glanced at his face. You had to admit, he was very handsome; in a rugged type of way. You couldn’t help but eye how his plain shirt hugged all the muscles on his body. You mentally slapped yourself, ‘Geez (Y/n), you’re here to ask for help not ogle him like the last piece of cake at the party!’

“Your car broke down?” He asked, looking at the worthless piece of junk that had decided to betray you just minutes ago.

“Yeah, it did.” You scratched the back of your head in slight embarrassment. “I couldn’t trouble you for a ride, could I?” He was quiet for a moment, in which you hastily added, “Not for long! Just so I can get proper help from a mechanic. I won’t be a bother I promise.”

The man nodded. “Alright then, hop in.”

Your eyes lit up at his response. You gladly took a seat beside him and thanked him again for his help. “Thank you so much. You’re literally saving my life.”

He nodded once more. Guess he wasn’t much of a talker. Well not that it mattered much. You’d only stick around until you got to a town and found someone who could fix your vehicle. You didn’t have to be all buddy-buddy with each other. You only had to be happy he didn’t seem to want to kill you and hang your organs like Christmas ornaments. The chance of you meeting again was down to basically zero.

Or that’s what you thought, but life has a funny way of messing with you. It must have a grudge against you or else you wouldn’t be seated in the same position you were previously, only it being about 3 hours later. The drive to the nearest town was long(you definitely wouldn’t have made it by walking) and when you got there, you found out the one mechanic they had was out of town.

You thought you were going to have to spend the night in a bush, but you were pleasantly surprised to have your muscular helper offer a nights stay at his farm. You were grateful(once more) and also confused. Why was he being so nice to you when he didn’t have any reason to? It didn’t make sense. The two of you had just met, plus that you’ve only spoken a number of times and none of the conversations were noteworthy.

It was after you accepted you got to know his name, Weston. It fit him quite well, you thought. He told you there was a spare room you could use. It would be further away from his, to offer you some sort of privacy. He also mentioned there was one other person living on the farm, his younger brother. If he annoyed you, you could just tell him off, Weston said to you.

Your butt was sore from all the sitting, both in your own car but also from this little trip. The sky darkened and the sun had nearly completely disappeared when you finally arrived at the farm. It looked like you imagined. There was a large house which you assumed was the main house. Behind it was a big, red barn. You thought you could hear the faint sounds of animals.

Climbing out of the car, you glanced expectantly at your host, waiting for his initiative. You didn’t want to be rude and march right up to the house. As you were waiting, another figure came into view. He was much like his older brother, with brown hair and eyes to match. He was smiling at the both of you, although you caught a slight suspicion towards you.

“Who’s the new kid?” He asked his sibling, who gave him a rundown of what’s happened. You were a bit annoyed at how he called you ‘kid’, you were very much a grown person. And he’s one to talk, you were sure he was younger than you, even through all that brawn. He wasn’t as tall as Weston but he was no joke either. The younger brother looked at you with sympathy, “Really? Well that’s unfortunate. What’re you gonna do now that the mechanic’s gone- since you need him I’m guessing you don’t exactly know how to fix cars.”

You sighed, “I’m not sure yet. I’ll come up with something tomorrow. I’m too tired from all the driving and thinking.”

“Alright, I get it. I’m Lucas by the way.”

You shook his hand. “(Y/n), and thank you for having me. You’re really saving me here.”

“Haha, well Weston likes to pretend he’s heartless, but he’s really just a giant teddy bear.” Lucas said and smirked as he received a glare from the ‘teddy bear’.

“Come in (Y/n), I’ll show you your room.” Weston led you into the house.

Right as you stepped over the threshold, you felt a slight chill. Something felt wrong. You turned around to see Lucas’ beaming face. He tilted his head in confusion.

“Everything good?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. You’d gotten the impression that he’s a chill guy, but now you started wondering if you’d made the wrong choice.

“N-no, everything’s great!”

There was no turning back now, you thought as you descended deeper into the house.

It was unfortunate that every time you followed one of the brothers into town again, for supplies and other things, the mechanic was never there. Sadly it seemed like his vacation wasn’t over yet which meant no way home for you. However, you didn’t have it so bad. The brothers had been kind enough to let you keep staying with them at their farm.

Honestly it was pretty good there. Sure, it wasn’t what you were used to, but some change of scenery was good for you. Not wanting to appear lazy, you helped them to the best of your ability around the farm. You couldn’t lift heavy things like they could even if you really put your back into it, and you certainly didn’t trust yourself to milk the cows; something you could do was cook! It’d become a routine for them to do their work during the day and you’d make them lunch and then dinner in the evenings. You’d never seen yourself as a homemaker, though this was kind of fun. Maybe it was the heat poking your brain or it was that you genuinely enjoyed their company.

Besides, it was really nice looking out the kitchen window and catching a glimpse of them at work. You weren’t proud, but it did something for you. The way droplets of sweat ran down their backs, not in a gross way though, in an appealing manner. During the instances they took of their shirts, you got a front row seat to see the muscles in action. You now knew Lucas had stone-hard abs and that Weston had a very nice back.

Despite the fun in getting to know both of them individually, there were some things you couldn’t deny making you uncomfortable. For example, there was the curfew. That one had a good explanation; there were wild animals sometimes running around and they didn’t want you to get hurt. That made perfect sense! Though you couldn’t shake off that one time you couldn’t sleep and had gone outside on the porch for some air. You were just relaxing and looking at the bright stars when shouting woke you up more than your insomnia. Lucas had come rushing towards you in panic. He’d frantically asked you what you were doing up. You responded honestly and he slowly calmed down. He said you shouldn’t go out by yourself anymore. If you can’t sleep you can see the stars perfectly from the living room window, or better yet, you can come to one of their rooms instead.

Then there was the room furthest back in the barn. Although it could be excused as well, they told you that’s where they slaughtered the animals. But you could swear you heard something from inside, something that doesn’t sound at all like a cow, a pig or a chicken. Suspicion arose in you, but fear held you in a chokehold and prevented you from investigating. However nice they were to you, there was no way you’d risk pissing them off. Especially since the mechanic still wasn’t back which meant you had no way to escape, if it would be necessary.

Lucas had been right, Weston wasn’t as scary as he seemed in the beginning. Sure, he was a bit rough around the edges but he had sweet moments too. Once during one of your little adventures on the porch, Weston had suddenly appeared by your side, giving you a scare. He apologised and asked why you were out. You were worried he would get angry considering you’d just recently had the ‘no more going out’- conversation with Lucas. To your surprise he chuckled at your nervous demeanor and did not reprimand you. He told you that in his opinion, Lucas was too paranoid for his own good and sometimes didn’t know when to stop. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, though you probably shouldn’t wander off the porch after dark. Better to be safe than sorry, right? Afterwards he declared he’s going to bed before wrapping you in a blanket, you didn’t even notice he had it with him until he turned you into a burrito. He was very sweet in his own way, you realised. From then on you paid more attention to the affection he undoubtedly showed. Sometimes it was hard to see, but it was definitely there.

Lucas on the other hand was more open with his affection; pulling you into hugs, asking about your day, petting your hair. All these thing he did daily. He, too, was incredibly sweet. Sometimes it was hard to comprehend that him and Weston shared DNA. They were so different. The only thing confirming their relation was little things how their eyes lit up the same way or how their smiles were similar(if you were fortunate enough to witness Weston smiling, that is). Lucas also had a protective streak. He constantly worried over your safety and wellbeing. Which was kind of nice, when he wasn’t nagging you about it every five seconds.

You better listen to them. It’s all for your best. Because if you don’t, you might end up walking into the barn, and then you might end up finding the remains of the mechanic you’ve been so desperately looking for. And that wouldn’t be very good now, would it?

[is-this-perhaps-a-bug]

is this perhaps a bug ?

verdict: crustacean

Hey, you there, it's dangerous to go alone my friend. Take this.

It will aid you with your quest. Farewell traveler.

[mechawolfie]

only thing keeping me afloat these days is trigun & touchstarved. good media better than therapy

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: you win the championship and paige shows you how proud she is.

warnings: smut, spitting, strap, thigh worship, clit play, size kink, sort of breeding kink, paige is horrendously down bad 🔥😝

word count: 2.7k

author note: so lazy with this one; i just rly liked the request idea as a former volleyball player :D!

Paige Bueckers, the star basketball player at your school UConn & also your girlfriend, and you merely had any time to see each-other due to the demanding nature of your athletic lives. You missed her dearly. The separation had led to some desperate late nights of falling asleep on facetime, sending one and other awful sappy texts throughout the day, and even FaceTime sex, a whole new low for you both. You hated living this way, but as two athletes who had thankfully and unfortunately fallen in-love, you had no other choice than to reap you had sowed. The basketball season hadn't even ended when the volleyball season began in earnest, each moment passing in a blur of practices and matches. Your schedules were back-to-back, the end of one season blending into the beginning of the next, and you didn't have a chance to see each-other until now, just as the volleyball season was coming to end, with UConn at the NCAA Women's Volleyball Championship, the game you had invited her to. Your nerves were soaring. You had played and beaten all these other teams relentlessly over the past month, but knowing it all rode on this, while your overly-competitive and patriotic husky girlfriend watched from the crowd, made the pressure even more intense. As your girlfriend always said, "You have to feel the noise." The gymnasium roared with the intensity of a thousand heartbeats, the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished wood blending with the rhythmic chanting of "Let's go, Huskies!" The scoreboard flashed 24-23. One more point, and UConn would be the champions. You never recalled Paige or her friends being volleyball fans, but they were at the literal edge of their seats from your peripheral vision as you tried to stay focused on the huddle, mind racing. "Alright, girls, this is it. One point stands between us and victory. We need to be sharp, focused, and give it everything we've got. Remember the training, remember why we're here." said Coach, his voice, though calm, carrying the weight of the moment. You glanced around at your teammates, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Your own heart pounded like a drum in your chest - the pressure, the responsibility, but also the exhilaration of the challenge. As you all broke the huddle, you didn't miss the resolve in everyone’s eyes. The team took their positions, and you moved to your spot at the front left, just before Paige, on the sidelines. You glanced over at her, eyes a mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but she met your gaze with faith in her eyes as she clapped her hands together enthusiastically, encouraging, "You got this, baby." warmly and lovingly. You sighed deeply, pointing to Paige as you locked eyes with her, conveying your commitment. Despite the times you had to prioritize other things over your relationship, you were determined to make it right and fulfill your promises to her by obtaining the game-winner point. The setter, Jessie, gave you a nod, her expression steely and confident. When the whistle blew, and the opposing team served, the ball sailed over the net, a blur of motion. Sara, the libero, dove expertly, digging the ball out with a perfect pass to Jessie. The ball floated high, a beacon of hope in the air, and Jessie’s hands moved with practiced precision, setting the ball up perfectly. Time seemed to slow down as you took the approach. Three quick steps, a deep breath, and then you were airborne. The gym seemed to hold its breath with you. Your eyes locked onto the ball, and in that split second, all the hours of practice, all the sweat and hard work, crystallized into this one moment. You brought your striking arm back, muscles coiling like a spring, and then snapped forward with all the force you could ever muster.

The sound of the spike echoed through the gym, a sharp crack like a lightning strike. The ball rocketed over the net, angling hard toward the far corner of the court. The opposing blockers, despite their best efforts, were a split second too slow. Time resumed its normal pace as the ball hit the floor with a resounding thud, just inside the line. The referee’s whistle blew, signaling the point and the win. For a heartbeat, there was silence, the realization settling in. And then, the gym exploded into cheers, a wave of sound that crashed over it. Your teammates swarmed you, their joy infectious, and you jumped, shouted, and hugged until you collapsed onto the floor, eyes shut. Reclined on the court, inundated by the applause and the profoundness of the moment, a tender touch on your shoulder prompted your eyes to flutter open, tears welling up. "Hey," she murmured softly, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your forehead, and you found yourself unable to hold back your deeper sobs. Opening your eyes, Paige knelt beside you, her beautiful face everything you needed to cap off a perfect night. She had this way of picking you up, not just physically, even though she does, but emotionally too, almost as if she always knew when you needed that reassurance. Paige didn't say more. Understanding the depth of your feelings, she simply held you close. As tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the shouts of celebration around you, you felt an overwhelming gratitude for her unwavering presence. Looking into each other's eyes, you couldn't help but smile. Paige always tried to lighten your mood, no matter how serious the situation. She tapped your cheek in a playful slap. "Lighten up, buttercup," she teased, "You just won the fuckin' championship and you out here cryin'?" You chuckled softly, cupping her face gently. "You're a bigger crybaby, Goldilocks." You know that moment, where everything else fades away and it's just the two of you? Yeah. Disregarding your family-friendly contracts, you leaned in and kissed your girlfriend the way you'd been longing to for ages. Despite the potential fallout from managers and anyone else, it felt incredible to feel her lips moving against yours in that way that always left you breathless. Her big, comforting hands enveloping you, rubbing the small of your back. You broke away, saying softly, "Let's go home." ----------- Though Paige was blonde and not the sharpest, it didn't take a genius to know what you meant by "Let's Go Home." You guys barely make it inside before she's turned you around against the apartment door, eagerly trying to yank your shorts off and get a taste of what she saw over the phone the previous weekend. You turn, gently pushing her head away. "No!" you insist. Like a bewildered puppy, she looks at you with confusion, panting. "I-... Is that not why you wanted to come ho-" "I have to shower, Paige, you're gross," you say firmly. She rolls her eyes, tugging at your shorts again, all the while planting soft kisses up your thick volleyball-girl thighs, really trying to entice you. "Pleaseee, baby," she begs, lips softly sucking a hickey on the front skin of your right thigh, leaving a trail of gentle kisses as her mouth inches closer to your pussy, her hands caressing your ass eagerly.

"I don't care. You know I don't," she tries to reason, her voice muffled against your clothed cunt, desperate to taste you. But you stand firm, looking down at her kneeling before you.

You push her forehead back with your fingers, before gripping her chin gently in a smooth motion. "You're such a desperate little slut..." you cooed, voice ruling.

Paige, the usual tough guy is photographable when she sticks out her tongue obediently, entranced, and you grant her request, spitting directly into her mouth and gently closing her jaw to ensure she swallows it before trailing off.

She closes her eyes, wanting to say strong. It truly does take all of her restraint not to tackle you and kiss you senseless because damn, it was so hot when you dominated her like that. She's so weak in the knees after the moment that she stays there until you finish your shower.

Before meeting you, she was used to being in control, but you always stripped her of her resolve. It left her a trembling soaking wet mess as she trudged toward the bedroom, where she found you naked on the bed, your hair wet and your body glistening, even wetter. She loomed in the doorframe, unable to tear her gaze away, captivated by the sight of you.

"Oh fuck, baby," she bellowed, "Shit, I- You're so fucking gorgeous, I-"

"Shut up, Paige," you interrupted, then spread your legs invitingly, your sparkling wet pussy on display for her eyes that lit up like a supernova. "You know, words are cheap. Show me. I want to feel it," you whispered, the sound of your voice like a siren, drawing her closer, your head tilted with a determined gaze.

She sauntered up to the bed. It was as if you blinked, and suddenly Paige was partially naked, still clad in her boxers. Her lips came to yours first, tongues intertwining hungrily, and you eagerly share your saliva, having left her mouth dry with your words.

As she drips what you gave her down onto your cunt, the trickle of saliva tickles you, sending shivers through your body and making your toes curl with anticipation.

"You look so hot when you're fucking me, babe," you tease her, and she lets out an impatient groan, lifting your body and placing your legs over her shoulders.

Her long fingers teasing up and down your slit elicit a velvety low whine from you, a sound that's more a reflex than a conscious choice, knowing it drives her crazy.

"Hold them," she murmurs, her breath warm against the back of your ankle. Lost in bliss for a moment, you don't comply, relishing in the way her fingers touch your clit like its her own body.

The stroke of her fingers always begins with a feather-light touch, barely grazing the surface like she's tracing delicate paths mapping constellations in the night sky.

Then, the tempo builds gradually, each stroke gaining confidence and purpose, lingering momentarily in certain spots where her touch elicits a buck or arch of your back. She stops abruptly, smacking the side of your ass-cheek lightly.

"I said, hold 'em, baby," she insists sternly, and you realize she's motioning to your ankles.

Paige wants you to hold them. She's usually a gentleman and does it herself, but you suppose you've riled her up too much today. Paige steps away from the bed and retrieves a box hidden underneath it.

Expecting something wild like restraints, you watch as it lands on the bed, revealing it's actually a package from a toy website. When she pulls it out of its wrapping, your eyes widen, and you try to shift to get a better look, but she stops you and says firmly, "Up. I didn't say you could drop 'em." Is she crazy? You think to yourself.

"You're out of your mind, Paige! What are you doing with that?" You're more the old-fashioned girl.

More 'hands-on'. And you've also NEVER had anything of this size in you, so you're rightfully scared, but Paige's hand presses you back down by your stomach and she insists, "You'll like it." As she fits it onto herself, she adds, "We both will. I got it for tonight since I knew you'd win, champ." That flatters you enough into relaxing briefly, but when you feel Paige atop you again, fear makes you instinctively want to shut your legs.

She sighs, "Stop playing with me," she chides gently, and you whimper, "I'm scared."

She smiles softly. Paige leans down and kisses you tenderly, then guides your hands to your ankles again as she reassures, "It'll hurt for a second. But after, I'll make you feel so good you won't even think about it." You nod, trusting her.

“Plus... with how wet you are, I should just-" the hum of a buzz fills the air as she presses the girthy length against your cunt, her bottom lip curling inward as she ruts forward. "Yeah, fuck.. I should slip right in there, right, ma?" she's asking for your permission now, but the way her abs clench, her hair tousles, and her face contorts... you don't hesitate or think about yourself.

"Put it in, Paige, please," you urge. With that, she starts, the thick tip barely penetrating your first layer before you're clawing at your own ankles, gasping for breath as Paige watches with focused intensity, her cheeks hollowed. The entrancement in her blue eyes as she watches you take her in is intoxicating, and you moan in response. "Aww, yeah baby... I know it's big, I know," she murmurs.

 "I just want to bury my cock in you, okay baby?" she opines delicately. "Okay.. Mkayy, just- oh!" the snap of her hips sends your body rocking backward, head against the headboard, a pillow thankfully cushioning the impact. "You okay? I'm not breakin' ya?" she inquires gently, but even if she is, you refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing so. However, it's evident—the burn of the stretch makes tears prickle your eyes, and she can see them.

Yet, she wants you to lie so she has a reason to continue fucking you senseless. "M' fine," you fib, and Paige throws her head back, thrusting again with a grunt, this time fully entering you with a groan of satisfaction following. She thinks aloud. "So tight, baby... nobody else fucks you like this, I love it." You look down and realize a small vibrating device is pressed against her clit, and you feel a thrill knowing she can feel its sensations, basically meaning she can feel you. "Is my pussy good?" you ask teasingly, and she knows you're only trying to rile her up, to get her to obliterate you, so, she resorts to her only solution and turns you over. She fucks you from behind, gripping your hair, and the backwards angle in which her cock fucks into you has you arching your back and throwing it back, despite the sting everytime you guys meet each other's thrusts at the same time. "Keep throwin' it like that baby, fuck," she moaned. Each time your ass met her hips, the slam echoed loud, and you gripped the sheets, clinging onto your life as she placed her hand on your ass, the other into your back, holding you down as she had her way with you. "You look so sexy when you take me, babe," she coos softly,  and you gasp.

"I'm gonna cum, P," on the verge of completely letting go. "I-.. me too, baby. This pussy makes me want to cum so hard," Gazing at her over your shoulder and sending her into overdrive, you utter, "Do it, P." through lidded eyes. "Cum in me, mommy, I want your-" She speeds up, the nearly inhuman quickness sending precum oozing out of you as you whined desperately. "You want my what, baby, my what? Tell me, ma, lemme hear it. Wanna give it to your pretty pussy."  "I want your babies, Paige, please." Her thrusts became erratic, each one driving deeper and faster. Your body tensed, teetering on the edge. “Yes, Paige, please,” you begged, feeling the pressure build to an unbearable peak. With a final powerful thrust, you both shattered. Your vision blurred as waves of pleasure surged through you, your muscles contracting uncontrollably. Paige let out a guttural moan, her grip on your ass and back tightening as she came hard, the intensity of it all leaving the both of you trembling and breathless, clinging to each-other in the aftermath. Paige was so right. You did like it. If this was just for one win, a big one, then imagine the next win, the bigger one. MASTERLIST

[perditty]

After that, the dwarf girl was seen more frequently above deck. The next day Tyrion encountered her and her spotted sow amidships in midafternoon, when the air was warm and the sea calm. "Her name is Pretty," the girl told him, shyly. Pretty the pig and Penny the girl, he thought. Someone has a deal to answer for. Penny gave Tyrion some acorns, and he let Pretty eat them from his hand. Do not think I don't see what you are doing, girl, he thought, as the big sow snuffled and squealed. Soon they began to take their meals together. Some nights it was just the two of them; at other meals they crowded in with Moqorro's guards. The fingers, Tyrion called them; they were men of the Fiery Hand, after all, and there were five of them. Penny laughed at that, a sweet sound, though not one that he heard often. Her wound was too fresh, her grief too deep. -ADwD Tyrion VIII

Tyrion's ADwD arc, my beloved

[astralnymphh]

i always see breeding kink + strapping but what about breeding kink + tribbing? ellie getting her juices in there and shit, acting as if she’s filling you up. then she pumps your combination of slick back inside you with her fingers and admires the way your pussy looks, wet with her cum.

(im not responsible for anything i say do not hold me accountable for this)

𓆩✧𓆪⋅ omfg breeding + tribbing w ellie? SIGN ME UP!! seriously— at the first fleck of pellucid orgasm that weeps from the bottom of her pussyline, ellie vice grips your hips like her very soul depends on its filling of her palms to retain her sanity, and drags an intent stroke of her clit up your folds, whine–groans so raspy when she feels her arousal spurt onto your pussy, "ughh, that's a good fuckinnn' pus— fuck.. take my fuckin' cum, god." folds her chin in to gape downwards in pure lustful concentration as her gropey hand settles off your hips and brushes over to her sloppy cunt, sticky with wisps of cum. ellie— being ellie, of course, rams three paired fingers in the opening of her folds, pushing the fat lips of skin around to gather her release, being the utmost blessed noise to ever cross your ears— fuck. then on, her scooping digits drift down and clump up in a wet stack, fingertips skirting your labia before they insert and stretch your entrance around her thickset trio, shoving directly near the bottom of your vagina, all while her intent eyes observe the way you take her. that feeling alone: stuffed n' chock full of her knuckles pumping the textured swell of your g–spot in languid circles inside you, as to brew together her cum, to have your pussy absorb it, to impregnate you— makes a moaner out of you, "mhhh, els'— give me your baby, don't fuckin'— don't fucking stop." you yearned, obsessively bad for this thing you otherwise couldn't concieve of so easily, ellie knew how maddenly you wanted to give her one, "i know babe, ellie knows." she assures, tender as an angel, slipping her fingers out to marvel upon her work stringing from your wet hole, cracking a hum–giggle at the way your pussy glistens with her cum, how it sows on the inside. enamored infinitely with those horny visions of future–you swollen with the slick coating your pretty folds now, a praise tugs from her cheeky smile, "that's my girl, my good fuckin' girl. god," scoffed she, proud of what she has brought about, right here on your daisy–fresh sheets, "c'mere, mama." and curls her entire torso down, tackling your face in a splurge of puckered kisses all over your amused expression. ♡

during the whole tribbing, she for sure humps her clit straight up against your hole sometimes. scissors you open and herself, making the two make contact, can also feel the hot throb of her clit bumping so hungry for you. whoopsie doops this was kinda long ౨ৎ

DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO

[princesscait26]

Oh Deer

Alastor x Y/n

Summary: What happens when y/n uses Alastors mug.

The morning hummed with the promise of a new day at Hazbin Hotel. Y/n, feeling the pull of caffeine, ventured downstairs to the kitchen, her eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep. A cursory glance at her array of cups revealed a mountain of unwashed dishes, prompting a tired sigh. Resigned, she reached for the nearest ceramic, which happened to be Alastor's iconic mug emblazoned with the words "Oh Deer." A mischievous grin crept across her lips as she imagined the chaos she could sow with this borrowed cup.

Pouring herself a generous serving of coffee, she indulged in a sinful amount of sugar and cream, relishing the sweetness that danced across her taste buds. With her concoction in hand, she sauntered into the living room of the lobby, her tail swishing behind her with excitement, ready to tackle the day's challenges.

From his post at the bar, Husk's bleary eyes widened in horror as he spied Y/n cradling Alastor's prized possession. Panic clawed at his chest as he approached her, snatching the mug, his voice a frantic whisper. "Are you out of your mind? He'll have your head for this," he hissed, the fear in his tone.

Y/n chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she defiantly reclaimed the mug. "Relax, Husk. I'm just a doe enjoying her morning brew," she quipped, her smirk daring him to challenge her further.

Husk's expression wavered between disbelief and trepidation, but ultimately, he decided to wash his hands of the impending chaos. With a resigned shake of his head, he retreated to the safety of the bar, determined not to be caught in the crossfire of Y/n's antics and Alastor's wrath

———————————————————————

Alastor, the illustrious radio demon, embarked on his customary routine. With each step echoing a sense of purpose, he descended into the kitchen, eager to fuel himself with the elixir of wakefulness before ascending to the radio tower for another captivating broadcast, replete with reminders of those who dared to cross him.

However, his meticulously planned morning took an unforeseen detour as he reached for his prized mug, only to find it conspicuously absent from its designated spot. A flicker of confusion danced across his features before morphing into a scowl of irritation. The scent of coffee hung heavy in the air, betraying evidence of recent use. How could anyone be audacious enough to pilfer his cherished vessel?

Venturing into the lobby, Alastor's keen eyes swept over the familiar faces occupying the space. Husk diligently tending to the bar avoiding his bosses gaze, Charlie engaged in animated conversation with Angel Dust, and Vaggie brushing Charlie’s hair—all mundane scenes in contrast to the brewing storm within Alastor's mind.

Yet, it was the sight of Y/n, nestled comfortably amidst a sea of paperwork, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands, that drew Alastor's attention like a moth to flame. A devilish grin spread across his lips as he honed in on the object of his suspicion.

Approaching with predatory grace, Alastor loomed over his favorite little doe, his presence casting a palpable shadow over her workspace. With a tilt of his head and a glint of mischief in his eye, he addressed her in a melodic tone that belied the underlying threat. "What have we here, my dear?" he crooned, his voice a siren's call of danger.

Y/n met his gaze with feigned innocence, her lashes fluttering as she summoned her most pure expression. "Just a cup of coffee, darling," she replied, her voice dripping with sweetness as she dared him to challenge her façade.

A tension lingered between Alastor and Y/n, their relationship a delicate dance of affection and provocation, evident to all who dwelled within its walls. Over time, they had forged a bond woven with pet names and whispered endearments, their connection an open secret among the patrons who watched with bated breath as their story unfolded.

As Y/n sat, in the familiar warmth of Alastor's presence leering against her, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. His voice, a velvet purr, tickled her ear as he leaned in close, his breath ghosting over the nape of her neck. “That belongs to me, cheri.” Y/n was at a loss for words, heart pounding in her chest and her face as red as Alastor’s ears. With deliberate intent, he materialized before her, his proximity a deliberate distraction as he reached for the mug cradled in her grasp.

A pout graced Y/n's lips as she resisted his advance, her fingers tightening around the mug as if daring him to challenge her claim. Alastor, undeterred by her defiance, closed the distance between them, his nose almost touching hers and his gaze locking with hers in a silent challenge. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, every eye trained on the unfolding drama, anticipation crackling in the air like electricity.

Charlie, her smile a beacon of encouragement, stood hand in hand with Vaggie, their shared anticipation mirrored in the gazes they exchanged. Husk, his expression a mixture of concern and resignation, braced himself for the inevitable fallout, while Angel Dust held his breath in rapt anticipation, his eyes fixed on the unfolding spectacle.

With bated breath, Y/n awaited Alastor's response, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of apprehension and desire. As he took the mug from her grasp, a triumphant smile graced his lips, the thrill of victory evident in his crimson gaze. He went to retreat as he thought he had won but, Y/n seized his hand with a surge of newfound confidence, pulling him close in a bold display of affection.

“This belongs to me” she says and their lips meet in a fervent kiss, the world around them falling away as they surrendered to the undeniable pull of their attraction. For a moment, time stood still, the only sound echoing through the lobby the soft murmur of their mingled breaths.

As the kiss lingered, a resounding crash shattered the fragile stillness, the sound of breaking glass punctuating the moment jolting them back into reality. Alastor, his resolve crumbling like the shards of his shattered porcelain cup, returned Y/n's embrace with both hands and a passion that ignited the room, their connection transcending the confines of words and gestures.

In the aftermath of their impulsive display, the patrons of the hotel stood in stunned silence, their shock palpable as they beheld the wreckage of Alastor's beloved mug lying in ruins upon the floor. Yet, amidst the debris, a newfound understanding dawned, as they witnessed the depth of Alastor's devotion laid bare in the wreckage of his shattered mug, a sacrifice made in favor of a love that defied all expectations.

Amidst the scattered remnants of Alastor's shattered mug, Nifty, the ever-efficient maid of the Hazbin Hotel, sprung into action with characteristic zeal. "A mess, I'll clean it," she declared, her voice ringing with determination as she swiftly gathered the fragments littering the floor.

[thebookbutterfly]

Hey there! Could you possibly write a Sandor Clegane x gender neutral reader where Sandor has a soft spot for reader and reader feels the same? He tries to hide it but one day reader get’s hurt and he patches them up and maybe confessions come out?

🦋 Little Bird— Sandor Clegane x gn!Reader

Summary: You get injured in an ambush. Sandor carries you to safety and takes care of you.

Tags: #so much hurt/comfort, #a teensy bit of angst, #fluffy ending, #potentially OOC Sandor Clegane but personally I think he is pretty baby girl, #request

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no use of Y/N, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, cannon compliant threats of violence, no beta and no ‘ragrets' [1,371 words]

AN: This is a request by @agender-wolfie. I really hope that this is what you were looking for! It came out a bit longer than I intended, but I am such a sucker for hurt/comfort tropes I really shouldn’t be surprised lmao. I wrote this all in one sitting and I haven’t done any editing so please excuse any errors. Happy reading! 🦋 Love BB

If you like this work my requests are currently open! So please give me your ideas ;)

You hissed a curse, gravelly and threadbare, as Sandor sidestepped another fallen tree.

A jumble of vulgar expressions that barely registered to you as they left your mouth. Almost all of them taught to you by the giant man holding you to his chest. The hound cradled you surprisingly gently, but his tension was evident. It was written all over him.

His scarred face, which you so rarely got the opportunity to study, was pulled into a broken grimace. The rest of him taut like a wire ready to snap beneath his armour. If you weren’t bleeding all over him, you might have reached up to prod the furrow of his brow. A silly attempt to smooth away Sandor’s permanent scowl.

The thought shattered as another wave pain tore through your ribs. Every bump in the path sowing fresh agony in the ruined skin and muscle.

Sandor ran a calloused thumb over the side of your knee in apology. Uttering clumsy noises of comfort as he picked up the pace.

“We’re almost there. Hold on just a bit longer, little bird.”

His gruff voice was cut with a noticeable amount of panic. Your brow scrunched at the unusual sound. You had gotten used to many things about Sandor as you travelled North with him. His rough sense of humour, bitter attitude, scarred face and huge stature were familiar to you by now. Underneath those things, his kindness and his softheartedness had become apparent to you too.

All the vulnerable pieces of himself that he smothered and choked beneath layers of vulgar humour and recklessness, had been presented to you in glimpses as you got to know him. But panic? Panic was new to you.

The farmhouse that Sandor had marked out in the distance finally drew into view. Up close it was a measly grey thing. The stone masonry looked haphazard at best but its chimney puffed with life. Behind it a barn lay with its doors open and rattling in the freezing wind.

You expected Sandor to head straight for the shelter of the barn but instead he strode to the front door. The family of four, seated around the dining room table inside, scrambled back as he slammed open the door with his usual subtlety. Which was to say— none at all.

You groaned as the sudden movement jostled your wound. Normally you would have chastised him for being so rude but your head was swimming. Too weak to lift your hand, you focused your energy on your eyes. Willing them to stay open, if not for your sake then for the sake of your worried companion.

An old man stepped forward to speak but Sandor cut him off, “One of you better be a healer, because if they die I will mount all of your heads outside on sticks.”

It was an ugly threat and they paled. The youngest boy whimpered looking suddenly ill. A younger woman with dark hair and a generous smattering of freckles stepped forward. She gestured a slightly shaky hand towards the table before him, before turning to her family.

“Clear the table, quickly. We can lay them down here,” her attention shifted back to the massive man standing in the doorway, “I’m not a healer by profession but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sandor seemed pleased enough by this answer. The rest of the family had been wise enough not to put up a fight and so Sandor stepped forward. He eased his grip and lay you down on the hastily cleared surface.

He moved to step away and let this stranger do her work but you whimpered. Fingertips clutching at air until he shifted back into reach.

A leather belt was stuffed between your teeth as your tunic was torn up the side. Unfamiliar hands grasped at your arms and legs. Holding you down with a bruising grip. All the while, Sandor brushed his bloodied fingers over your forehead and through your hair. The warmth of his skin a small consolation for the pain you were about to endure.

The woman lifted a needle and thread. With a glance at Sandor and his affirming nod she began to count down and you closed your eyes, unable to look.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fire. Your body was on fire. You arched off the table. Trying to escape the agony, the needle slowly piecing your flesh back together. The table shook as you thrashed but the hands holding you down didn’t falter. Sandor’s gravely words of comfort were the last things ringing in your ears as the world went black.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the lack of pain. Your side still ached, the wound tender, but it was a dull throbbing now. No longer, the screaming torture it was as Sandor carried you away from where you were ambushed.

The second was the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this warm since you and Sandor had journeyed across the border into the North. Sandor.

You opened your eyes slowly. The lighting was dim but from what you could tell you were inside the barn. The door was closed now though and soft orange candlelight illuminated the space.

You lay on your good side underneath a thick layer of blankets, and next to you lay the man your eyes sought for. His arm tucked you to him, large calloused hand resting somewhere on your lower back.

His heart thudded rhythmically beneath where your head lay on his chest. His even breathing and faint snores filled the quiet. Despite your inner protests it was the most comfortable you had been in years.

You gazed up at him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sandor didn’t sleep nearly enough and you were content to watch the way the candlelight danced across his skin. It caught on his scarred cheek. Shadows flickering on the panes of his face.

Unable to resist you lifted a hand to his cheek. Your touch was featherlight but his eyes snapped open. Sandor’s gaze flicked to you immediately. Scanning you for distress and finding none, his body relaxed.

“Seven Hells, I thought you were going to die. Never do that again,” he said gruffly. His cheeks were flushed but he made no move to shift away from you.

Your voice was cracked from screaming but you still managed to mumble, “M’Sorry.”

Sandor sighed, “It wasn’t your fault, little bird.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a water-skein. Unscrewing the top he held it out towards you.

“Here, drink. Then you can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The moisture eased the pain in your throat and soon you were snuggled back up under Sandor’s arm. The wind howled through the rafters and you both sat in silence for a little while.

Your thoughts broke the quiet, “Thank you for carrying me here. Thank you for staying.”

Sandor’s eyes met yours, they were unguarded and soft in a way that seemed reserved for you. Reserved for these conversations in the dark.

His voice was low as he replied, “I would have carried you to the ends of the earth, little bird.”

You studied him, the scars that mottled his skin, the cut on his brow and the curl of his mouth. Something deep within you settled, like a cat stretching out on a rug.

“You’re a good man, Sandor Clegane,” you said.

The conviction in your voice hit him harder than any blow on the battlefield ever had. The tidal wave of emotions that followed threatened to take him under but he swallowed them down.

You pretended not to notice his watery eyes and he lifted his spare hand to stroke your head. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded sleepily, too tired to fight it off any longer. A few seconds pass before you feel it. The soft press of his lips on your forehead. They linger there for a while before he pulls back, the warmth that they leave behind searing like a brand on your skin. You smile as you drift off, lulled to sleep by his warm embrace and steady breathing.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

[mythicmanuscripts]

Had a thought inspired by sub!Aegon being called a good boy combined with my idea that Aegon could be fixed if he just had a soft dom partner. Maybe he lashes out at a problem and just being a brat instead of saying his true feelings so they punish him (lightly no pain Bois been thought enough) and then coax him through explaining why he was upset.

I love how we have all come to the mutual conclusion that Aegon would just thrive on having a wife that doms him and cares for him and gives him not only love but also structure.

I think I'm gonna write this as Aegon's first punishment? Like he and his wife have finally had a talk and he's now hers fully, no more brothels and he goes to her for everything.

This ask is not at all NSFW until the very last paragraph, so just to safe I'll hide it under the cut anyway :))

Aegon has rules he has to follow, rules that only you and him know and he feels so incredibly good when he can go to you and tell you he's been a good boy all day. But of course, the rules are rules because they're not things he does naturally or easily.

One of the rules he has is not to allow his mother to get into his skin and cause him to yell at his small council. It's something Allicent is a specialist at, she'll come to Aegon before the council meeting starts and sow the seeds then already. She tells him of whatever problem she's going to bring up at the small council, and she tells him what she wants him to do.

Immediately Aegon breaks a rule. He's not supposed to entertain this. If his mother has something to raise at the small council. then she must raise it then. He's supposed to tell her to stop talking and that he'll only hear it at the council with everyone else. But he doesn't. He tries, but she talks over him and Aegon doesn't try to stop her again.

So he's already unsettled when the council meeting starts, because he knows he's broken a rule. You sit on his council, of course, you have the seat at his right hand. When you enter the room, you immediately know Aegon has done something wrong. Usually his eyes light up when he spots you, and he'll immediately jump up and pull your chair out for you.

(Sidenote: both Aegon and Aemond always try to pull their wives chairs out for them, but the difference is that while Aemond is all put together as he pulls your chair and stands next to it with perfect posture, Aegon is such a mess, practically tripping over his own feet to have an opportunity to do something for his wife.)

So when you walk in Aegon won't even meet your eyes? You know he must have broken a rule.

He's skittish throughout the meeting, snapping at his advisors, refusing to let anyone finish a full sentence and just generally being very grumpy and unhappy. Towards the end of the meeting, Allicent finally raises the point she raised with Aegon earlier.

She explains everything, and the table is pretty split on the idea. She then looks directly at Aegon and just waits, even raising her eyebrow when aegon was taking too long. It's then that you realise she must have told him everything beforehand and now expects him to agree with her.

When he hesitates, Allicent immediately launches into exactly why this plan is needed and the way she does it is just so... condescending? Like she's looking down on her own son.

Aegon snaps then, yelling at everyone to get out and saying he won't comment on Allicent's plan. When no one moves, he throws his glass of wine against the wall and shouts again for everyone to leave. That seemed to wake them all up, because they all got up and left the room. Allicent was the last to leave, and she was clearly lingering to try and speak to Aegon but Aegon just yells at her again and she leaves.

You, of course, stay right where you are. You don't even try to look like you're leaving. You know Aegon didnt mean you when he told everyone to get out but even if he did, you'd still stay because you knew he needed you.

But, he's now broken three rules. He let Allicent get into his head, he broke something in anger and he disrespected the other small council members.

You wait for him to start talking, and for a moment you actually think he might yell at you to leave too, but then he just kinda sighs and walks over to you. He pulls your chair out a little and then collapses across your lap, his legs hanging over the arm of the chair. You hold him close, of course. Even when he's broken rules, you'd never deny him attention and touches.

You ask what happened, and you make sure your tone is firm enough that Aegon knows he can't get out of this one. After a minute of silence, Aegon softly retells the story of how Allicent came in and belittled him and got under his skin and how he didnt kick her out or refuse to hear it. He goes on to explain how stupid and small he felt when Allicent clearly expected him to agree with her in the meeting and he felt so bad and didnt know what he was supposed to do.

You give him a forehead kiss and a little squeeze, thanking him for his honesty and then taking him back to your shared quarters.

I think really boring, monotonous tasks would be the best punishment for Aegon? Ever since his brothel excursions he can't stand pain, and having to do something boring really does feel like torture for him. Sometimes you'll have him take every item of clothing out of your closet, refold it and put it back in, other times you make him write out lines or copy word for word all the words listed in a dictionary under a certain letter.

This time, you grab a broom and make him count every single one of the bristles. If he loses track, he has to start over.

Needless to say, he's not very happy about his punishment, but he doesn't complain. He already feels like such a bad husband a bad sub, so he'd never complain about what he has to do to become a good boy again.

You stay in the room with him, reading a book and glancing over at him every now and then. You'd never ever let him be alone while he completed his punishment.

Once he's finished, you smile at him and put your book down before opening your arms for him to come for cuddles. He jumps at the chance, just about tripping over his own feet in his haste to be in your arms. The moment he's there, he grips you tight and nuzzles his head against your neck.

You start out by asking him why he broke those rules, what stopped him from following them. Aegon struggles to find the words, until eventually he just says that Allicent makes him freeze and feel like a little kid again who can't make his own decisions. He explains further how overwhelmed and unsettled he was at the meeting and how that caused the outburst.

When he's finished explaining, you immediately give him a little squeeze and kiss his head and then both his cheeks, You remind him how much you love him and how utterly perfect he is for you and then you start to go over some ways you could possibly prevent him from breaking that rule again.

But most importantly, once that is done you give him a proper kiss and tell him that he's forgiven, he's okay again, he's till your good boy.

Of course this never fails to make him cry, but you expect that by now and know that the best thing you can do it just give him a little time to calm down while you hold him.

When he looks ups at you it's like you can see that a weight has been lifted off shoulders. Not only do you forgive him, but he forgives himself too.

And then of course you can't resist slipping a hand down his breeches and letting him come apart on your lap. He deserves it.