#For non can disturb the potato

[katreal-fic]

[tinystarbites]

accidents | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops [5.5k]

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst mainly Spencer doubting himself aww :(, Spencer is PINING for you hard (haha get it), nudes, Spencer loves you so much, pls someone give him a hug, m!masturbation, talk about sex, proofread but prolly not perfect lol, like you aren't probably ready for the amount of longing in this, *slaps Spencer* this bad boy can fit so much pining and yearning

read pt.II here

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Spencer swears it was an accident.

You were all away on a case, somewhere in Florida. And of course, something like that can only happen in Florida, because as much as he dislikes connecting random events with random locations, non-sequitur fallacy and all that, he cannot not say that many of his most embarrassing moments aren’t attributable to the south-eastern state. (He will not elaborate on these moments, he very much likes to keep most of his dignity still intact, thank you very much.)

But his dignity isn’t really the only thing that had been shattered to pieces by… by the accident. Far from it really and it- well, it- God, this really won’t end well for him, will it? He’s well and truly, as Emily likes to say, fucked.

It happened on the fourth day he and the team were cooped up in a small, dingy police station, chasing down an unsub that liked to paint intricate body art on the victim’s corpses as part of his MO. Aside from, y’know, slitting their throats with what seemed to be an old, rusty saw. The paradoxical duality of these two aspects, of the interplay of carefulness and diligence put into the painting process and the absolute careless way the unsub ends his victims was fascinating really – but not as much as it is disturbing, still.

Thus, this case is a very photography-heavy one. Most of the cases they solve involve photographs of some kinds of course, but Spencer has never sat in front of quite as many pictures of art and gore in his life before. It was strange, to say the least, even to him. Strange and annoying, to be honest.

Because Spencer isn’t exactly fond of all things that come with some electrical inner life, i.e. smartphones, his old brick of a phone isn’t exactly helpful for this case. He still feels the need to roll his eyes at Garcia after she, for the umpteenth time, called him an old grandpa and his phone a potato trying to pass as a phone. And failing miserably, especially when looking at the pictures it takes and their quality. Well, Penelope would say “pictures”, because she would also say that a resolution of beneath 60 PPI should be considered a war crime against modern technology, but Spencer doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know what that even means, so. Jokes on her.

Well, actually, the joke is on him. And yes, he knows, the joke is almost always on him, he knows his pipe-cleaner physique and too big eyes and long hair and everything about him really, makes him the perfect target for the occasional bullying he gets still as an adult, but he’s used to that. It’s normal, part of his everyday life. He can deal with that (more or less).

What he so brilliantly cannot deal with however, is having you around him almost 24/7. Because Hotch had had the amazing idea of fixing you to his hip as his personal photographer to circumvent his technological potato-problem. Uh- not that you, that you take pictures of him, why would you ever do that, but more like, taking pictures for him. Of their victims. And the body art.

Spencer was actually waiting for your protest, because there seems to be nothing worse for you than to stay inside the office when you could be out there, on the fields, in midst of all the action. Where Spencer usually isn’t. But that’s fine of course. Completely, absolutely fine. Spencer doesn’t look up every time the door to the tiny room he’s set up his camp in opens to see if it’s you bringing him another coffee just the way he likes, if it’s your smile that will make him feel more energized than any overly sweet coffee ever could. If it’s your voice and smell and aura (Penelope is definitely getting into his head) that for the short while you are there, makes everything seem so much more manageable.

It’s an energy burst unlike any other and Spencer is aware of what that means, so aware his body burns with it sometimes… Often. Okay, fine, most of the time. He just prefers to ignore it and enjoy the precarious friendship he built with you for what it is because he just likes to have you around so very much and – this was so not the point he wanted to make. He’s hopeless, when it comes to you, and it really is kind of embarrassing.

So, this is why the joke is so entirely on him that it’s not even a joke anymore. It’s basically bullying, he feels bullied. Because you actually had beamed the prettiest smile he’s ever seen at him, said ‘Oh finally, I can unpack all the dark hidden talents from within me’ which was so cryptic but so you and then you also winked at him. And well, Spencer has to lie if he were to say that he was being totally normal about this. That you didn’t just upheave his insides like an earthquake of magnitude eight with a single wink. Oh, he’s in so much trouble.

The first two days the two of you work side by side proceed without any unforeseen occurrences. And Spencer is so glad about that he could cry. From the moment you had joined the team two years ago, from the moment he met you, it was an undeniable fact that you were nice. Not only that, but truly, selflessly kind in a way that has left him all too choked up to even speak on multiple occasions now. The team is nice to Spencer, of course they are, they’re his family. But nothing in the entire world could have adequately prepared him to the spring of kindness you so freely distribute to anyone willing to receive it. And god, Spencer is willing. Is it every time you listen to him ramble on and on, unable to really hold his tongue despite the embarrassment clouding his cheeks darker. Is it every time you ask him about the book he’s reading, every time you ask him how his mother is doing and just- all these tiny things that add up and completely smush his brain into a fuzzy mess of warmth that leaks down his body.

He literally could spend every minute of every day just sitting next to you and soak up your presence and he would be the happiest person alive. That’s why he cherishes your friendship to him so strongly, and that’s why it’s the worst thing that Spencer is, well, himself.

He knows that you would probably be too nice to outright state that something he does unsettles you. Changes the way you think about him. Still. There is the worry. Buried so deep in his mind it’s as if he was born with it. And that’s why he’s so relieved that he is keeping the worst of the ‘Reid effect’ at bay while working with you on this twisted painter case.

It all goes well, until it doesn’t. Of course. Good things never seem to last for Spencer.

It’s already later in the afternoon on the fourth day you are working the case, no end in sight, unfortunately. Spencer is bend over the table, hands entwined in front of his mouth as he’s staring down the printed pictures of the unsub’s latest victim from three days ago. The brushstrokes seem remarkably stable, the colours uncannily vibrant. Spencer does not know much about art, but he does recognise talent when he sees it. And this unsub seems to have it in abundance. It’s almost a shame he’s a deranged killer. But oh well.

He jumps in his seat when the door to his room abruptly bangs open and a dishevelled looking you is bustling into the room.

Your expression turns apologetic. “Oh Spencer, shit, sorry. I didn’t wanna startle you, but they just found another victim.”

And oh. Spencer feels his heart sink in his chest. Guilt tugging it further down into the abyss. Why wasn’t he faster with figuring out these paintings?

“Really? Where?”

You immediately launch into a rapid-fire list of details, all in the wrong order because you do tend to be a bit all over the place. Spencer doesn’t mind. Gives him a bit more of a challenge to order the information in his brain the way it works for him. You two work surprisingly well in that regard.

While talking, you round the desk that almost takes up all the little space available in the room. You sit in the chair next to him, so close he can feel the stressed warmth radiating from you and it takes a very good portion of his brain’s capacity to stop his hand from reaching out. Or do something else even stupider. More stupid? Oh hell. It’s a wonder he can talk in complete sentences with you.

He watches you pull out your phone, fingers typing in the passcode he guessed right after two weeks of knowing you. The indignant expression on your face had been adorable. That’s why he still guesses your new passwords weekly, just to mess with you a little bit. Because he’s apparently insane like that.

“Here”, you turn the display of your phone towards him, “Precinct’s out of ink. Do you mind looking at the pictures on my phone until I come back from the store?”

This is where Spencer should have said no. Declined politely, smile on his face. Tell you that sorry, I don’t really get the same detail on screen like on a printed version. Should’ve emigrated to Tristan da Cunha, change his name to Ferdinand. Whatever. Anything, except say, “Oh, of course. That’s no trouble.”

You smile that breathtaking smile of yours, fingers touching his slightly while giving him your phone. Spencer sucks his lower lip between his teeth to keep himself from making any kind of noise at the tingly feeling skittering down his back.

He can’t not smile back at you. It’s one of his many weaknesses. Jello, trying to out-solve himself every day with New York Times’ new crossword puzzles, dairy. Halloween themed socks. Old obscure movies no one has ever heard of. Reading the most difficult books in twenty minutes. You.

Once you left, Spencer starts diligently going through the photographs of their latest victim. Not yet identified white male. Average height, average weight. Short-buzzed sandy brown hair. Striking blue eyes that seem to stare at him accusingly even after death.

He works through approximately forty pictures taken off the intricate and detailed body art. This time, the unsub left many smaller paintings woven in a bigger, overall painting. There’s still one that Spencer hasn’t seen a close up of, that’s kind of hidden behind the victim’s ears. Maybe you saved it to a different folder. He clicks around your gallery for some time, opening and closing folders full of holiday pictures. Pictures of you, smiling, at the beach. A folder full of memes that he doesn’t get but is familiar with because you keep sending them to him anyways. Spencer is aware that he probably shouldn’t have just- perused your gallery like that. But he was in case-mode. Hyper-focused on finding the next clue, on detangling the next hint that would bring them further. That would finally be the key to end this case and bring justice to all the victims.

He isn’t really thinking, when he clicks on a folder titled ‘xxx lol’. Thinks it’s another one full of memes because of the abbreviation, but maybe you accidentally saved pictures of the case in there, wouldn’t be too out of character for you and-

Spencer sucks in a breath.

Drops your phone almost as an afterthought. The noise of it clattering to the table makes him flinch.

It lands display down. Small mercies and all that.

And Spencer is- he is-

… That was not-

Not -

There’s a weird buzzy feeling in his limbs, his chest and head. Like his blood turned into a swarm of bees. He feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice over his head and like he’s on fire simultaneously.

Okay. Okay.

That was not- pictures of the case.

Definitely not.

Oh Jesus Christ.

Spencer was definitely not supposed to see. That. Not supposed to see you- like that. Ever.

His heart is totally beating itself into a frenzy. There are at least two litres of blood rushing to his head. The other four are gathering somewhere down down down and oh. Oh shit.

Spencer is actually fucked. More than that. He wants to get fucked and that’s. Just. Even worse.

He wants to scream.

He ends up biting his knuckles and letting out a frustrated noise against his fingers.

Did he really.

Did he really just see your nudes?

(And yes, he knows that word. Penelope is a bad influence on him.)

His head is kind of a- a mess. More than usual when you are around. And… what. What does he do now? He can’t just- can’t just leave your phone like that. You’d obviously see what he was looking at and that’s just- unacceptable.

But the other option appears just as preposterous. Because, because, he’d have to look at your phone again. At you, like that, again. To get out of ‘xxx lol’. Damn you. Why did you have to be so unserious and name your, uhm, very personal folder like that? And no password-block?

Spencer feels a different kind of warmth enveloping him because it’s just- so you, silly and funny and kind of unbelievable and Spencer is so deeply in love with you that he feels like he’s going crazy with it. Of course, you’d be like that about stuff like that as well. Spencer would give everything to just once experience what it’d feel like to kiss you. To feel your lips twisted in a silly smile against his, flicking a finger at his ear because you would. Do that. When kissing someone. And okay. Okay. Spencer needs to get his shit together, like, yesterday.

You could come back any second now, actually and fuck. He needs to close the gallery app on your phone, asap.

His hands are trembling as they retrieve your phone from the table.

He allows himself a deep breath. And then. With eyes squeezed almost close, he taps the return arrow. Well, tries to. He thinks he managed to escape your nudes-folder without any hiccups but well.

Spencer is freaking inept with technology.

So. He finds himself looking at another picture of you and god, it actually might kill him.

It’s inappropriate. So so so so inappropriate. You would kill him dead if you ever knew Spencer was ogling your pictures like that. Like a perverted stalker.

But. But.

There shouldn’t even be a ‘but’.

But.

You’re just. You’re just- You’re incredible. Not even in a sexual way, just-

You’re so beautiful it hurts.

And call Spencer selfish, a pervert, whatever. Because he knows, okay? But he also knows that he’d never, ever get to see you like that. And it hurts in a different way now, because Spencer just wants. Wants you so much. You and you, just you.

But…he’d never get to have you. Which is fine, of course. Having you as a friend is actually one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he’d never do anything to endanger that-

…Well. He’s not perfect. So, sue him, for only once, giving into his deepest darkest desires. He’s only human. And pathetically in love with you. And attracted to you. Oh, he wants to be with you so badly. Wants to- wants to get kissed and held by you. Wants to make love with you, which just. Sounds so dumb and cliche. But maybe he just is that for you.

Still. He shouldn’t think how absolutely breathtaking you look, sprawled across the white linen of presumably your bed. He knew you worked out regularly, but. Spencer feels hot all over when he thinks how easily you could just. Manhandle him around. To wherever you wanted him. And this is something he apparently likes. (He consciously stores that information away for later. Later.)

He shouldn’t think how you would tease him, how you would make him beg for you before he’d even taken off his clothes. He would. He would beg for you, go on his knees. Everything, everything.

He shouldn’t think how warm and safe you’d make him feel, even after knowing he’s inexperienced in everything. You’d take his face in your hands, smile at him so beautifully he’d cry. Tell that ugly internalized shame to go ‘fuck off to Jupiter’.

Oh, he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

But there’s always so much he shouldn’t do. Friends shouldn’t think of other friends like that. Friends don’t imagine how it would feel to be taken apart and put together again by their friend. Friends shouldn’t want to touch, touch, touch-

Maybe, for once, he just. Has enough of that. Maybe, he could just. Indulge. For a minute. To know what it’d be like. Just. A little.

To know what it’d be like if this picture was meant for him. What it’d be like- Be like to see you. And for you to see him. Like that. What it’d feel like to crawl into your lap, bury his face in your neck. Set his teeth on the gentle skin there and hear you gasp for him. How you’d bury your hands in his hair, and he’d make the most miserable noises until you pulled and-

Something in the corner of his eyes catches his attention and- shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

That’s you. Walking towards the door.

His hands are shaking so badly he has difficulties navigating your phone. But thankfully, this time, he manages to leave ‘xxx lol’ and find his way back to the evidence folder.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Did he actually- He actually-

The door springs open. Spencer startles kind of violently.

(Oh god.)

You have a big grin on your face. Some magenta ink smutched across your left cheek. And Spencer knows what you look like without-

“Heya, Spence, you won’t believe what just happened-“

(Oh god.)

“Uh… you okay there?”

His face feels like it’s on fire. His heartbeat is spiking and, well. He’s never been quite this turned on his entire life. He feels himself hard and aching against his trousers and Spencer wants you to push him down on the table and-

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-

He needs to- leave. Right now.

“Fine”, he squeaks, voice all over the place and he cringes, “Just-“

He wags his hands around in a very confusing, general manner. Grabs some photographs.

“I need to- Need to. Bathroom”, is all he somehow manages, photographs surely placed in front of his, ahhhh, problem.

You look at him as if he lost his mind. He probably has.  “Oh-kay? Then… go?”

Spencer goes.

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Spencer can’t stop thinking about those pictures.

He’d known it would come to this. Him, lying wide awake on the uncomfortable hotel bed.

Having an eidetic memory has never felt more like a curse to him as now.

He buries his head further into the pillow. Fingers digging into it. Pulling his legs closer to him and, ah. That. Probably wasn’t the greatest idea of his.

He’s still- turned on. Uncomfortably so.But just thinking of taking care of that. Well. He’s 100% sure that that’s not the way to go about forgetting these pictures.

Also, it’s bad enough already that he even saw them. It would be so much creepier to jerk himself off to them. To you. His best friend. But- ugh.

It’s always kind of uncomfy for him to be away on a case. He prefers his own four walls over anything else, kind of, except maybe the university library. And now, being sexually frustrated away on a case that requires even more focus than other cases do?

Oh, Spencer is so fucked.

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You notice that something is off with him. It really would have been a miracle if not, because then Spencer would’ve had to question your profiling skills. But even then- he doesn’t think that you’d even need to have these skills to notice him acting off.

Because Spencer is so not the person to play incidents like that cool. He is painfully aware of that, thank you very much.

So, the next day, when you came to say hi to him (“Hey there, Mr. Doctor.”), after he basically ran off the day before, and you, as always, casually put your hand on his shoulder, Spencer, he-

He spit out his coffee.

He could feel you freeze through the hand on his shoulder. Your expression would’ve been comical if Spencer wasn’t dying.

“Uhh… Do you… Do you need a moment?”

Well, that was a freaking understatement. Spencer needs not a moment but all of them to try to get his act together.

…which he didn’t. Not for the rest of that day, and also not for the day after. And the day after. This case apparently will never end. Fucking Florida.

You, of course being the kind soul you are, tried talking to him.

(“Spencer, are you okay? You’ve been acting kinda-“

“What? What do you mean? I’m fine, completely.”

“Uhm… Sure. If you wanna talk about it, you got my number.”)

And well. Spencer feels like he is going insane.

It’s come down to him not being able to spend more than thirty minutes uninterrupted in your vicinity without getting semi-hard, because he knows. Without him almost doing something stupid and drop to his knees then and there and beg you to either forgive him or to please let him eat you out.

Ah, yes, because apart from being so frustrated he could scream, he’s also feeling so guilty it’s slowly killing him.

There you are, still being his absolute favourite person on the planet, unaware of what kind of person you are laughing with. Of what Spencer did. It was an accident yes, but- He should’ve said something. Maybe warned you so that it would not happen again. Ugh, but the more time passes the worse it gets. The more impossible it feels to just- go to you and say ‘ah, uhm, by the way, I saw your nudes and maybe you should put those behind a password block’.

Spencer is just- the worst friend. What friend doesn’t give their friend a heads-up about something like that? He’ so, hopeless, incompetent, and he gets it now why he didn’t have that many friends in school. 

It’s gotten so bad so quickly that the others started noticing too, obviously. It really is a curse working with profilers. Spencer should reconsider his move to Tristan da Cunha.

“What’s got pretty boy so worked up, huh?”, Morgan asked him on the day after the incident.

“Did something happen, Spence?”, JJ pulled him aside on the second day after.

“Are they cancelling Doctor Who?”, Emily, on the first day after.

“Kid, you need to eat something”, as Rossi pressed a protein bar into his hands.

Even Penelope texted him.

is it what i think it is? ;))))))

He did not dignify her with an answer.

When Hotch comes to him on the evening on the second day after, Spencer is a mess. He’s practically spent the entire day in some state of fluster. He noticed he’s trailing off when he’s info-dumping. That he’s just- staring off into space more often than he usually does. That he can’t talk to you properly without stuttering, that he avoids looking you in the eyes. So, it really was only a matter of time until their unit chief would scold him. Or whatever Hotch is here to do.

“Listen, Reid”, he says, tone of voice a little too similar to when he is talking to Jack when he did something mildly inconvenient, “whatever it is, and I don’t want to know unless it’s something bad, deal with it. We need you with a clear head here, okay?”

And well, that could’ve gone a lot worse.

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He still thinks so once he falls into bed that evening. But now-

Deal with it.

How? How should he deal with that? It’s not like he can just press the ‘Delete’-button in his memories. Thanks for nothing, Hotch.

His eyes strain from staring at the ceiling in the dark. Closing them doesn’t really help because all he’d see is you. He’s such a mess.

A pining, pathetic loser mess and he’s so hard again he can’t properly think. It’s just- Spencer has had rather inappropriate thoughts about you before. Has actually spent way too many hours in his apartment just lazing around, thoughts occupied on all the countless ways he’d like you to make him lose his goddamn mind. It had been kind of an accident (isn’t that just the story of his life), the first time it happened.

Spencer had almost been finished with his report, he’d just needed an additional detail from you to finish up. He’d asked Morgan where you were, and this is how he found himself walking down the corridor to Penelope’s ‘Dungeon’. Which, he’d never say out loud because that’s just ridiculous, right?

He saw the door to her office was slightly ajar, a mix of yellowish-red light splitting the hallway in half where it spilled out of the open gap.

There’s a giggle coming from inside the room and Spencer smiles- can’t help it really, because your laugh is just so absolutely ridiculous, a kind of high-pitched screech that ends in airy laughter and he’s so obsessed with it he wants to engrave it on a CD to listen to it again and again.

“No way, gorgeous, I don’t believe that”, Penelope whisper-giggled.

Spencer didn’t realize his steps slowed down, too curious by what you two could be talking about. And also, kind of forgetting that you shouldn’t just listen to other people’s conversations like that.

“Oh yes”, your voice was low, and Spencer would be lying if he said it didn’t send a tingle along his spine, “He broke up with me, but he came crawling back to me not even two months later because I apparently ‘ruined him’ for anyone else.”

Ruined him? What did you mean?

Both Penelope and you were laughing now, louder than before.

“You really, really gotta teach me your devious ways, buttercup.”

You snicker. “I guess it all boils down to making them come so hard they cry and forget their own name, really.”

Spencer didn’t get the detail he needed from you that day.

He’d gotten something much worse and that was curious. From the limited sexual encounters he’s had in his life before (a rushed hand-job somewhen in university in a toilet cubicle by that one other student he was into back then) he couldn’t really imagine something like sexual gratification that made one cry. Sure, getting himself off felt good. Sure, that orgasm had been fine. But… it could feel better?

He kind of didn’t think of that before.

So, when flustered-he had returned to his apartment after that overheard conversation, he kind of… thought about what these things could be that you did, to make others feel so good they lose the basic functions of their memory.

And the rest is basically history.

Of course, he’d never touched himself while doing… research about your techniques. It just felt- wrong. You are his friend and despite of his crush on you, it didn’t feel right.

But now…

He really really shouldn’t. But, he’s just so- desperate. For you and for things to go back to how they were. Without him almost bursting at the seams each time you look at him because before, he never had any problems with categorizing his mind like he does now.

So maybe… Maybe he can just… Do it once? Real quick, to get it out of his system?

The longer Spencer turns the thought in his head, the more… it seems like a good idea. You’d never know. Spencer could forget about- about the accident and move on. Solve the case and finally leave cursed Florida behind. If he just does it this one time, it’s not that bad right?

The fuzzy pleasure that shoots up his spine when he finally, finally presses his hand against himself through his pyjama pants answers him. Yes, yes, it says and more more more-

Spencer has never been good in denying himself things that make him feel good, better than good, things that make him forget about any pain that has nestled inside of his body or mind. Right now, that thing is you. Oh, perfect beautiful lovely you. He can’t stop the way his lips twitch into a smile, almost shy, even though he’s alone. But something about you just- 

He gasps, back arching a little when he slides the palm of his hand along himself, still through two layers of fabric.

Something about you just- god, how can he put this into words- something about you just makes him feel- safe. Seen. Taken care of. And it’s just, so foreign to him. Strange. He’s always been looking after himself. After dad left and mom-

He’s kind of addicted to it. To the way you make him feel. Spencer can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of you. Never never enough.

His fingers trail circles around the head of his cock, light and unhurried, enjoying the shivers of good good amazing it sends through his limbs, to his fingertips. Spencer can feel the tension leaking out of him, can feel his muscles relax and his mind become hazy. He should do this more often, god he always forgets how good it is, it feels.

He almost forgets why he decided to get off right now. It had something to do with you. You. Naked and there, here with Spencer. He whines a little because you aren’t here, why aren’t you here he wants that so badly-

But all he has is the crystal-clear mental snapshot of your nudes. Spencer doesn’t remember ever remembering something with such clarity before. He feels kind of embarrassed by that, how obviously desperate he is for you. How he would do everything for you, with you. But this feels so good that he doesn’t care about any kind of embarrassment or shame that might trigger his self-loathing.

He increases the pressure of his palm slightly, oh god oh oh, it’s so good already and Spencer hasn’t even touched yet, not properly at least, but oh. Oh, he wants moremoremore-

It’s so easy letting his thoughts tangle, mixing old and new. Fantasies and reality. The you from the pictures merges with the you from his daydreams and oh shit. Oh fuck.

Spencer moans, high and needy at the back of his throat and god how are you so beautiful?

Imagined-you has absolutely nothing on the real you. Spencer could have never himself come up with you because he just lacks the imaginative capabilities to conjure the absolute vision you are. The vision you portray on those freaking pictures that have branded themselves into his very neurons. He’s sure, absolutely sure, that he will never get over them. Over you. Doesn’t even really want to.

Because he is quite certain that the sight of you, your stomach your thighs your arms your tits your- oh he forgot where he was going with this.

By now, Spencer’s hand has dipped beneath his pyjamas and beneath his boxers and he moans again, his lips pulled between his teeth and eyes shut because the feeling of good good better more almost peaks when he grabs himself, finally.

His right hand starts an even, slow pace along his cock because if he is only ever doing this once, he is going to make most of it.

It doesn’t take long for him to get close, though. He’s been so wound up the last few days, it really is no surprise. It’s actually more surprising he hasn’t come all over himself already.

Soft, keening noises are continuously spilling from between his lips, hips moving together with his hand because he just can’t help himself. The heat in his abdomen is building and building and he whimpers because he wants it to be you so so badly, his thoughts are a mess, he is a mess and he wishes he could be your mess, yours, yours to make a mess of and oh god he’s going to-

A knock. On his door.

He freezes, blood rushing loud in his ears, heart pounding and his cock hot in his hand and begging him to not stop but-

“Spencer? It’s me, can you let me in?”

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pt. II? 👀

[krypticcafe]

Can please get fic where young reader almost gets r-word.. like! What happened to ellie on 'the last of us' like make it into that situation, reader kills the rapist and flees away and runs into the 141 team, and their like in this state of like panic, but they calm them down and they explain what happened they are beyond livid so they just reck hell on the people who was with the man who tried to r-word reader.

(this a platonic relationship between reader and the team)

Me and the Devil

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic 141 x gn!reader

warning(s): no use of y/n, dead dove do not eat, non-explicit attempted r*pe, emotional and physical trauma, sexual physical and mental violence, canon-typical graphic violence, comfort

wordcount: ~3.8k

a/n: i'm not exactly sure what anon meant by young, but for context, reader is probably 20-22, I'm just not comfortable writing this kinda stuff for teen or child reader, I hope you don't mind. also, huge, HUGE emphasis on the warnings. though nothing is explicit and there are no sexual graphic terms, the descriptions and actions alone are still very disturbing and uncomfortable! and the violence is a little uncomfy for those not used to it, too. title is from 'Me and the Devil' - Soap&Skin

synopsis: You can see it. The devil. It laughs, and laughs, and laughs, mocks you for your childish stupidity and naivete. To think the angels would come marching in, that you'd make it out with any semblance of sanity. You can't fight it, you can't even hide from it. All you can do is lie in your grave.

Just hours ago, you were alongside the 141, cleaning up and wiping out an enemy base, a typical Tuesday on a summer afternoon. You should've known things would go downhill with how smoothly it was all going. Even Price commented on it with an air of wariness and suspicion. After all, it was a saying that if the fight starts getting too easy, then it's an ambush. And an ambush it was. You want to tell yourself that it was nothing, easy as pie compared to what you've been through. You wanted to say that it was a success and you turned the tables on your enemies. You wanted to say that it ended within a matter of minutes and that you were on your way back to base with your boys, ready for a night of banter at the pub. You'd join Ghost in watching Soap and Gaz try their hand at poker, taking a shot each time Soap's dogshit luck lost him another couple of euros while Price would pry Roach from having another cocktail and piss himself ('it was one time!' he slurs).

But instead, you're here. Locked in a room, bag over your head, tied to a chair, a stereotypical hostage situation but that didn't make it any less tolerable. Though having a potato sack over your head was nowhere near as embarrassing as the reason why you were captured. You tried your best to hold onto the jeep, honestly, you did. Until some ankle-biter decided to latch onto you and sink his teeth into your flesh, causing your grip to loosen and send you tumbling into the dirt. Your bodies slammed into the ground, kicking up dust and your opponent taking most of the fall damage for you. How thoughtful.

Seething at the audacity he had to chomp on your leg like some feral mutt, you gave him a piece of your mind and made sure he'd never bite another ankle again. His friends caught up the moment you were done. They dragged you back down to the coarse dirt and sand of the earth, making you taste and choke on dust. You looked at the lifeless figure in the sand, briefly wondering if you'd be wishing you were him before a bag was slipped over your head and tied like a collar. It didn't help that the sand on the roof of your mouth combined with your ineffective attempts to ration your breathing made for a burn worse than any hard liquor down your throat. Thrashing and shouting like a madman, you cursed them like some teenager who discovered swearing as they tossed you into the back of a truck, rolling you forth with the heels of their boots. Not your finest moment.

Once you were loaded and the rest of them climbed on, the truck shot forward without slowing down for a second, taking you to your own personal hell for the next few days. Knowing the 141, they were probably at the safehouse, planning their next move to retrieve you. In the time between interrogations and routine attempts to break you, you could imagine Soap and Roach pacing around the room, Ghost brandishing a knife with a dark look in his eyes, and Price looming over a map and pulling up contacts with Gaz at his side. While you hated to burden them with your own mistakes, thinking about them all gnawing their teeth in comical anger at your expense brought you momentary comfort, eliciting a small chuckle.

"Something funny?" Much to your ire, all your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of several people shuffling into the room. You could only expect so much privacy in a place like this. The man who spoke up seemed to carry himself like a leader, considering how he spoke above all others and you could hear him carrying out demands every now and then, checking up on you as if he actually gave a shit. And currently, he was on the top of your "to kill" list, along with every other cunt in this prison.

"What'll it be today, more screaming or more silence? You know, you can only stay quiet for so long." He sighed. Judging by the sound of metal screeching on concrete, he pulled up a front-row seat. With a single yank, you were again temporarily freed of the confines of the bag on your face, glaring at the man with a look of ferocity that seemed as if it were etched on your face permanently. His clothes were disturbingly clean-cut and polished despite the blood he spilled for the past few days. Your blood he spilled. "Come now... you know you'll only make things more difficult. Face it, kid, they're not coming, it's been days."

When you felt gloved fingers touch your jaw you snapped, pulling away like an animal restrained by a leash. Your captor let out a taunting "Oooh", and your skin crawled at how he heckled and laughed like some adolescent boy poking a rabid animal with a stick through its cage. "So it bites."

"Fuck you." You rasped.

"And it talks." The humiliation of their nonchalant attitudes made you seethe, you knew it was a tactic to get under your skin and you just wouldn't have it, turning your head away from the men.

"Uh-uh, eyes on me. How is such a fresh thing like you out fighting wars with men like them?" He hummed, gripping your jaw with a strength that took you by surprise and had you wincing. Even though his hands were gloved, it felt as if he were trying to dig into your skin. With no other choice, you were forced to look into his eyes, the pyres of unimaginable anger burning in yours.

However, it was then that you felt it. Something was off. Something was horribly off about him. The several times he'd come in here to either coax you with gentle words or have his men beat you within an inch of your life, he either had some faux kindness or gleeful malice painted across his face. But this time, his eyes were alight with slimy delight. You hated it, Hated how it made you feel small, cornered, pulling on your leash so that you couldn't be yanked from the one place that made you feel safe. You hated how it didn't feel like he was trying to get under your skin, or sink into your bones but instead your mind as if to violate it. You hated how it seemed like he had something more in mind, something that you couldn't predict like a kick to the ribs or a carefully worded reassurance that you'd be in "good hands". It was the one thing you felt like you had control over, knowing what was next, and now you didn't.

With a wave of his hand, his men all filed out of the room, leaving just him and you alone. One came back with a bowl in their hands and you felt yourself doubt your worries. Were you already beginning to lose it in here? "Hungry?" He smiled, taking the bowl and dismissing the soldier. It looked and smelled like a stew, potatoes, and beef, not scraps of stale bread or lukewarm, half-empty beer cans.

"I asked them to make something special today for you, isn't that nice? I suppose even someone like you has a taste for the finer things in life and wouldn't say yes to leftovers." No answer came but it was to be expected as he mixed the stew with a spoon. Your eyes were trained on his face instead, expecting some kind of strings attached. He entertained that expectation by—to your disgust—spitting into the stew, mixing it more, and bringing up a spoonful to your face. "Consider that the cost of being so picky. Open wide, soldier. Surely you won't make a fuss again, now will you?"

There was a pause, you leaned forward, lips ghosting the tip of the spoon before you roughly shoved his chair away from you with your boot. The bowl fell from his hands onto the ground, pooling between the two of you. He could go to hell with his stupid fucking soup.

He let out a scowl of disapproval, his self-satisfied smirk replaced with disgust and irritation like a parent to their troublemaking child. Fine with you, you didn't need that asshole's approval. He stood, grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his hands and the small splatters on his uniform. "Should've known better that the government's pets would act like such animals. I gave you a chance, I tried to make this easy for you." He snarled, tossing his handkerchief aside and grabbing you by the collar, "But no, you just had to be a fucking brat, huh? Fine, be one. I can work with that. Either way, you'll be put in your place soon enough."

Before you could comprehend what he was implying, he slashed the ropes that binded you to your chair with a combat knife and shoved you to the floor, your head throbbing as it hit concrete, along with the rest of your aching muscles. Vision blurred, you sat up and tried to make out what he was doing, falling back when he roughly grabbed your hair and shoved your head back down into the ground. Like an alarm, every single flight or fight response went off in your body and yet you couldn't figure out what he was trying, you just knew that this was something worse and that you were a fool to let your guard down for a single second.

A twisted smile broke across his lips, "You know, you have a very lovely voice. You sing the loveliest songs."

Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face until you let out a yelp of pain when he pressed into your stomach, already bruised from previous matters. He let out a sigh that made you shudder and you felt bile creep up your throat, moving your face to the side in fear that you'd choke on it.

"Eyes. On. Me." He snapped, his voice sounding so much louder than it actually was, his hand twisting your jaw back to look up at him while his fingers proceeded to dig themselves into whatever spots got you hissing and squirming away. That's all it took for your resolve to break, the blaze in your eyes fizzling out and replace with genuine fear and utter shock as you watched him straddle you and stare with a piercing gaze that trapped you. It forced your attention to stay on him, daring you to look anywhere else but him when that was all you could focus on. Him.

You couldn't even scream, paralyzed when you heard the sound of metal clinking against metal and the brushing of fabric, raw horror setting itself alight in your bones at how he loomed over you. At that moment, you swore you could see the devil itself laughing, cackling, mocking you in his eyes.

It was like you were seven again.

Scared, cornered in your room because you swore, you swore and sobbed and cried that you saw it, a monster in your closet. A dark, shadowy figure that'd taunt you merely with its existence and prayed on your downfall, drinking the fat tears you spilled and listening to your high-pitched cries as if they were music, eyes that you couldn't see but they could see you.

Others tried to convince you that it wasn't real, opened the doors, and closed them again, showing that there was nothing but cleanly folded clothes and hung-up jackets lined neatly along a rack. Every time, you'd feel a little more silly about your fears but anxious that they'd come back for more.

At some point, you nearly forgot about the monster altogether. It ceased to exist in your closet, but never your mind.

"Damn it, what now?!"

Pulled back into the present, you heard muffled speech with loud, obtrusive noises and more screaming and cursing from the man above you. He was faced with the still-closed door, talking to a soldier behind it. Instead of trying to catch up with what happened, your mind raced to its defensive instincts. Finding the spoon dropped from earlier, you reached for it with a strained grunt which caught his attention. Yet with a swift grab and thrust of your hand, you jammed the blunt handle of the spoon into his throat and screamed at him, your vocal cords ripping in deliriously satisfying pain.

Barely giving him a second to let out a final gasp for air, you flipped him over underneath you and yanked the spoon out, blood erupting out of the gash. Fire ignited in your veins and you balled your fists, giving him a taste of the rage of a caged beast with nothing left to lose, just the desperation to survive for more. It was a symphony of grotesque crunches of bone and ligament, and you yelled, screamed, and cursed with each impact at him, at the entire organization, at a godless world for making you live through hell. A pitiful yet gruesomely satisfying attempt to reclaim what sanity and control you lost in that room.

Blood and flesh coated your fingers like warm syrup, and you were sure your knuckles were split. Crimson red was a good look on a sterile uniform, you thought to yourself. The sight of your work made you realize it wasn't the devil in his eyes was laughing at you, but rather its reflection from over your shoulder, still gleefully singing and squealing with delight as it watched you indulge in pure, unadulterated wrath. Its tail wrapped around your neck, strangling you with delirium and bloodthirst, guiding you in your ear as you beat an already dead man to a pulp.

Taking a stand, its whispers remained in your ear, praising you and yet you felt sick looking at what was left of what you had done, of what was left of the man's face. His blood pooled around his shoulders, mixing with the stew into an unholy concoction, evidence that was a testimony to your suffering and to your sin. Using his combat knife, you cut through the ropes around your wrists, skin scratched raw and bleeding. Without a second glance, you took his gun and left the room.

To this day, you tell yourself that you crawled out of hell that day.

"Any signs of the hostage?" Gaz shouted over comms, holding off a room of enemies alongside Price.

The moment they had all seen your fingers slip from the jeep and saw you tumble away that afternoon was the moment they knew they wouldn't be coming back to base for a long time. Roach had watched in despair as he was so damn close to grabbing your hand, swearing that had he'd been a little quicker, you wouldn't be here. Soap had yelled for Price to go back but Gaz and Ghost both knew his hand wasn't going to turn that wheel anytime soon. All of them knew. They couldn't turn back, and you wouldn't have wanted them to either, not unless the entire team and mission were to be jeopardized. However, that didn't stop them from doing whatever it takes to get you back safe again.

"Negative." Ghost answered over the line, standing with Soap in a hallway painted with the blood of the opposition, bodies scattered like lifeless bags of flesh with no greater purpose than to rot.

"I have eyes on them, they escaped from captivity. Currently pursuing them!" Roach responded. He'd seen your figure run down a hall at an alarming speed, and when he followed you, he had a glimpse of the room and the spectacle you left behind, "The leader is terminated, too. Jesus, can someone get over here?! They're gunning it for the west exit and I can barely keep up!"

You were in fact, bolting for the exits, panicking the more you got lost and running so fast that you probably could've broken a record on base. Distant gunfire and blasts snapped at your heels like a pack of dogs, reminding you that if you didn't keep running, you'd be dead, you'd be torn apart and beaten just like their leader and fed to the wolves. Boots trampled the ground behind you like drums of death, the yelling of men ringing in your ears, a requiem to the inevitable. Run, just run, it's all you could do in this frenzied state. If you didn't you'd be helpless, you'd be put down like a rabid fucking animal. Run, even if your bones shook from the pain, even if flames licked at your torn muscles, even if it meant dying of exhaustion because anything was better than dying at the hands of those animals.

At last, you found the light of an exit, finally an escape from this asylum. Your heart felt lighter when sunlight kissed your skin only to be weighed down by getting slammed into, grabbed into a relentless hold. You screeched, shrieked, snapped, and sneered while the voices seemed relieved, almost happy at your capture.

"Don't fucking touch me-!" You screamed with animosity, practically frothing at the mouth, "Don't fucking touch me I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking—"

"Friendly, friendly!"

Still growling under your breath, confusion flickered over your eyes. Why did it sound like... like...

"Captain?"

"You're safe kid," Price panted, as if he'd been running to chase you. He was chasing you. In all your hysteria, you hadn't realized that the group had been running after you for past minute or so, trying to call for you, get you to slow down. The only thing that worked was to just grab to and hopefully knock some sense into you or knock you out. "It's just us, see?"

Your gaze softened, taking in the features of the man before you. Despite the crossfire and fighting, somehow he still had such a kind look on him, puppy eyes that pitied you and kept you grounded. Turning your head, you saw the rest of the men watching you in concern, all tired but overjoyed nonetheless that you were finally back.

You were safe.

It was like a weight finally lifted off your chest, a pile of restrained misery and relief washing over you, and you wept without a thought to pride. Price whispered your name in a way that felt so comfortingly familiar, tucking your head into his shoulder and letting you muffle your sobs into his uniform. It was painful to hear your wails, the relief and the instability shaking off of you in waves. A part of you expected to be scolded, to be teased for messing up so badly with a simple mistake as letting go of the jeep but they didn't.

"You're in good hands,"

"We've got them covered,"

"They can't hurt you anymore, love."

"Do you have any major injuries?" Gaz asked, but you couldn't say a thing, clinging onto Price's jacket and crying like you were four years old and found by your parents after getting lost. Slowly and gently, Price pulled you from him to examine you, and that's when he saw it. It didn't take long for the others to notice as well. Your clothes were torn and belt undone. While no physical harm was visible, knowing what happened was enough to make Price tick.

"Roach, get them to the car and give them some spares ASAP. Everyone else with me, we're cleaning out the place." Everyone else had the same dark look in their eyes, one that sent shivers down your spine but encouraged you once more you were secure now. While Roach escorted you away, you peeked back to see them disappear back into the building. After you changed in the car, you could hear the distant gunfire and screams, shutting your eyes closed tight, making an effort to drown out the thoughts.

"You okay?" Roach frowned. he had apologized to you a dozen times over on your way to the car and explained all that happened after you were taken, which you appreciated him for and insisted it wasn't his fault. But he was sweet and stubborn, bandaging your wounds and telling you he'd make it up by giving you his dessert for the next month, a gesture that made you smile for once in a while.

"Yeah, yeah just... hope they're safe." You breathed, sinking into your seat with the rest of your thoughts. Though you cried once more, quietly this time and on Roach's shoulder. He was cautious not to initiate too much physical contact, holding your hand only when you asked for it.

The building was silent, not a single soul left to be reaped by the 141. They all regrouped around a body that was beaten beyond belief, to the point where the face was unrecognizable. Regardless, they knew who it was.

Gaz broke the silence, "You think they did this?" They all looked at each other, not wanting to imagine what happened to lead to this point.

Ghost nodded, a confirmation of something they already knew but wanted to mutually agree on. "No one else could've made this much of a bloody mess. HQ's going to have a field day with this. Can't say that he didn't have it coming for him, though."

"And well deserved, too." Soap spat. Price continued to look down on the figure on the floor without any thought to it. Not anger, disappointment, or spite, just disregard. Headquarters would be interested to hear what happened, but he could care less about the report. All that mattered was that loose ends were tied.

Minutes later, the men all piled up in the car again, setting for the road back. You woke from your half-asleep state, rubbing your eyes. You were met with a soft smile from Soap, who ruffled your hair. "You alright there, sleepin' beauty?"

Humming in acknowledgment, you nodded and glanced out the window to see the road whizzing by, the building growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Some dingy warehouse. So that was the hellhole you were stuck in for a near week.

"Dinnae think 'bout it too much," He followed your gaze and nudged your boot with his, "When we said they can't hurt ye anymore, we meant it."

"Yeah," You quietly mumbled, leaning back on Roach, who had fallen asleep and leaned on Gaz for support. "Can smell it on you guys."

That got a rumbling laugh out of Soap and even a little headshake from Ghost who sat in the passenger seat. Looking at the rearview mirror, Price was looking right back at you, eyes flickering to the road occasionally, "Get some rest. It'll be a long ride home."

You nodded like a little kid with a mumbled "yessir" and drifted off once more. For the first time in forever, you feel like you can breathe and ground yourself, no punishment, no torture, nothing to haunt in this rare bit of calm. You didn't feel the pain of your sore muscles, you didn't feel that your body was filthy, you didn't feel small and scared, not anymore. Just surrounded by nothing but a familiar feeling of safety and lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine that took you home.

a/n pt.2: had a tough time writing this one but hey, I think I managed! to be honest, though, I'm not super confident about the ending and proofread this while half-asleep, but I'd love to hear some thoughts about it. shoutout to the people who noticed any reoccurring themes.

[mrsshabana]

Patient!Gyutaro x Nurse!Reader - CHAPTER 2

Chapter 1

✦ CW: 18+ MDNI, female reader. Dead dove: do not eat. Non-con, smut, violence, manipulation, mentions of mental illness. ✦ AN: This chapter has disturbing scenes with graphic violence and non-consensual sex. Please read all of the content warnings before continuing.

✦ WC: 1,808

“Good morning Mr.Shabana,” you chime, smiling brightly, bringing a tray with his breakfast into the room.

He stares at you as if he’s seen a ghost, eyes wide, skin pale, breathing at a halt.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?” you ask as you set his food down on the table.

“I-It’s nothin’...” 

“Well, I’ll see you in a few hours Mr.Shabana, feel free to call for me if you need anything in the meantime,” shooting him another kind smile before you exit the room.

His stare drills holes into your back as he watches you leave. He hasn’t felt this annoyed by a new nurse in years. Could it be that you are mocking him?

Pushing his food to the side, he clenches his teeth in frustration. He thought he got rid of you for good. You’re the first nurse that has stayed after he pulled that antic. It always works. But why didn’t it work on you? 

He’ll have to come up with another way to get rid of you.

After the first day with Gyutaro, you vowed to do everything in your power to help him heal his physical and mental wounds. Making sure to be kind, considerate, and paying close attention to his needs. The next few days have been surprisingly pleasant. No outbursts or insults coming from him like they once had before. He still doesn’t talk to you, hell he barely even acknowledges you. But it’s better than being assaulted every time you enter his room. 

Though you still get that gut feeling that you're in danger every time you are around him. Your hair stands on end and your hands get sweaty. But for the sake of doing your job, you ignore the warnings from your body. 

And it seems your persistence is paying off. As your keen eye quickly picked up on some of Gyutaro’s behavior. He only eats pre-packaged food. Why? You have no idea. Might be from some past trauma… maybe you’ll look back into his therapy notes later. 

But it’s quite odd. Every time you bring him his meals, he only eats the pre-packaged foods included in his meal. Usually things like cookies and muffins. He can’t be getting more than 500 calories a day. 

So, you start going out of your way to buy healthier pre-packaged foods for him. Things like canned tuna, beans, and sometimes potato chips from the vending machine. He’ll only eat it if you give it to him unopened. You want to ask him why he eats like this, but you figure he most likely won’t answer. Plus you don’t want to risk setting him off again. 

Your kindness really pisses him off. But he doesn’t hate when you bring him things he’s actually willing to eat. Surprisingly, he doesn’t think much of it. He’s not impressed that you figured out a way to get him to eat, because to him there was no trick. He wasn’t trying to be difficult. It’s just how he is. He won’t eat certain things and he has specific reasons for doing so. However, he isn’t grateful either. He could care less if he starved to death. But it is nice having a full stomach for once. He’s finally starting to feel a bit better, as his strength begins to return. Though, you may soon regret it.

.・゜゜・　♰　・゜゜・．

“Mr. Shabana, are you ready?” You knock on his door and peek inside to see him sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Mm hm,” he nods and stands. His lanky frame towering above you as he follows you out of the room. 

Today is Gyutaro’s hydrotherapy session, recommended to be given once every two weeks by his doctor. 

And since Gyutaro has been deemed to be a danger to himself, he must be supervised during the session.

You can feel him staring at you as he follows you to the sauna room. You swear his gaze is so spiteful that it causes you physical pain. Every part of your body is screaming at you as you unlock the door and open it for him. But surely you’re just overreacting right? It’s been over a week now with no incident at all. You finally feel as though you are making progress with him, and you aren’t willing to let go of that progress just because of a gut instinct. 

“Alright, remove your clothes and I’ll start the bath,” you say as you walk over to the hydrotherapy tub.

He doesn’t respond, but you hear shuffling behind you. Assuming that he’s getting himself ready, you get on your knees and adjust the temperature of the bath. Watching as the water slowly rises and steam fills the room. 

Dipping a finger into the water to check the temperature, it feels pleasantly hot. 

“There we go,” you smile, “Your bath is ready Mr.Sha-” You begin to turn around but in the blink of an eye your face is engulfed in heat. It all happens so fast, you don’t register what’s going on.

All you know is you can’t breathe, and it’s too hot. 

Holding on to the edge of the tub, you try to push yourself up and out of the water. But a strong grip on your neck is preventing you from doing so. 

You finally begin to realize the gravity of the situation when you feel Gyutaro’s body pressed up against you. He keeps his hand firmly grasped around the back of your neck, holding your head under the water. And with his other hand he roughly lifts up your skirt and pulls down your panties.

“Stop strugglin’ or else I’ll break your fuckin’ neck,” Gyutaro growls under his breath. 

Not only does he hate you because he finds your kindness incredibly annoying, but he also hates you because of how horny you make him. Seeing you in that short skirt every damn day. He gets hard every time you enter his room, and his throbbing cock becomes so persistent that he has to jerk himself off or else he’ll be in a bad mood the entire day.

How dare you tease him like this. Well he’ll show you. 

He’ll get to kill two birds with one stone. Satisfying the aching in his pants, and getting rid of you for good. There’s no way you’ll stay after this.

Cackling, he pumps his cock a few times, readying himself at your entrance.

“This is what you get for always teasin’ me…” he grunts as he forcefully shoves his cock inside of you. It takes a few thrusts to bully himself fully inside, as you aren’t wet at all. 

You feel like you’re being ripped in half, it stings and burns as he forces his thick cock into your tight hole. 

Water fills your mouth as you scream under the water. You panic, and use all of the strength you have left flailing your arms behind you, trying to push him away. But he’s too strong, and he’s between your legs so you can't kick him either. 

“Stop it, slut” he shouts, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. 

After a few thrusts, you start to get a little wet. Not enough to make this comfortable for you, but enough that he’s able to plunge easier into you. 

Having been in an Asylum for so long, he’s never had the pleasure of sex before. And even though it’s something he’s fantasized about many times, he never could have imagined how good it’d feel. The way your pussy tightly clenches around him, he feels like he’s already getting close. 

Your face begins to lose color, and you stop struggling. The abuse on your pussy is dulled by the pounding in your skull. 

Gyutaro notices you’re beginning to lose consciousness. He really doesn’t care about you but if you died now, he’d never be able to fuck you again. And he’s already getting addicted to the feeling of being inside of you… it’d be such a shame if this was the only time he’d be able to use you.

He reluctantly pulls out of you, grabbing you by the hair and pulling your head out of the water. 

Instantly you cough up a bunch of water and gasp for air. A devilish grin spreads across his face as he watches you struggle to breathe. 

Water and saliva drips down your chin as you open your watery eyes. Your vision is blurry but you can make out his erect cock throbbing in front of you. No wonder it hurt so much, not only is he long but quite girthy as well. Decorated with black spots and large veins, there’s a ring of blood at its base.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him, “Well since you so kindly opened your mouth for me…” he grabs the base of his cock and forces you to take him into your mouth, “Might as well put it to good use.”

You cough and choke as he thrusts into your mouth, his leaking tip ramming against the back of your throat. Digging your nails into his thighs, trying to push him away to no avail. 

You hate to admit it, but you much rather have him abusing your throat than your pussy. But it doesn’t help that you’re still struggling to gasp for oxygen. Your lungs burn but you try your best to calm down and breath through your nose while you endure the torture. 

It doesn’t take long before you feel his cock twitch and his thrusts get sloppy. Just wanting this to be over as quickly as possible, you suck as fervently as you can. Twirling your tongue around his tip, taking him as deep as you can. 

“F-fuck…” he moans, cock twitching as he coats your throat in hot sticky cum. He tightly grips your hair as he rides out his high. 

Tears roll down your cheeks as you swallow his cum, not daring to look up at him. It tastes foul, salty, and bitter. It’s thick as it slowly slides down your throat.

He hisses as he pulls out of your mouth. A long string of saliva connecting from your swollen lips to the tip of his cock. 

He stands up and looks down at you. Grinning as a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. You can’t help but cry under his gaze, feeling completely humiliated and ruined. So disgusted with your own body that you don’t even feel like yourself anymore. 

“Pathetic whore,” he spits, his saliva landing on your cheek. Grinning in satisfaction as he pulls up his pants and puts his shirt back on. 

Without another word he walks out of the room, the heavy metal doors slamming behind him. Leaving you gasping for air on the floor, sore and bleeding from his abuse. 

Taglist: @gyusimp @sterzin @sassysaxsolo @gh0stedddd @cry-baby-stuff @hutchilli [If you asked to be added to the taglist and weren't, it may be because your tag didn't work when I searched for it. Or because you don't have your age listed on your blog]

[homelanderbutbig]

The Brutus To His Caesar (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1942 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You get a dog without telling Homelander, and he is not a fan. Inspired by a conversation with @sehtoast. (thank you again bruv ;_;)

Homelander's days follow a predictable pattern. He wakes up in the morning, performs his superhero duties and events in the afternoon, then comes back to his penthouse to spend his night with you. From when he was a child in the lab, he's come to appreciate having a steadfast routine to follow, without the fear of something unknown causing a disturbance.

That is why he can't hide the utter disbelief painted on his face when he comes back to the penthouse in the evening, and finds you sitting on the couch with a dog.

"What… what is that… thing doing in here?" he sneers, eyeing this filthy creature that is blissfully laying its head on your lap. He can feel tightness constricting his chest as a wave of anxiety begins to spike inside him.

"One of my co-workers couldn't care for him anymore," you explain. "They had to re-home him on short notice, so I offered to take him. I'll bring him back to my apartment tomorrow, but we had plans for tonight so I brought him here with me."

"You… y-you took this mutt in without consulting me?" Homelander interrogates you, words laced with his discontent. Walking in front of the couch, he glares down as you shower this mongrel with your affection. He should be the one lying in your lap right now, not this dumb animal.

"I wasn't going to let this poor guy go to the pound if I could help it," you respond, doing your best to reason with him. "He's a senior dog, he needs extra care."

"Y-you're going to be keeping this thing?" he scoffs, finding it hard to believe you could do something like this to him. "Don't you know how many people get killed by dogs every year?"

"You think this little fella is going to do something like that?" you retort, looking down at the docile, sleepy dog on your lap and back up at the eight foot tall murder machine looming over you. "Honey, he's a couch potato that sleeps 20 hours a day. He may not have very many years left, he deserves to spend that time somewhere where he's safe and loved. I'm not getting rid of him."

Letting out an exasperated chortle, Homelander shakes his head while putting his hands on his hips. He's quickly realizing you're serious about keeping this dog, and there's nothing he can do to change your mind. How could you do this to him? He thought you loved him, that he was the only one you would ever love. Then you go and give your love to something else?

His jaw tenses while he feels himself spiraling from his initial thoughts of you loving this pet, to his all-too-familiar fear of losing you. This dog, this supervillain, is conspiring against him to ruin his life and you can't even see how it's manipulating you. It's going to usurp him in his position as your favourite, leaving him tossed aside like yesterday's garbage. He can't let that happen, not again, not-

"Hey," you exclaim, seeing Homelander spin further into his inner turmoil. You knew he would have trouble accepting this change, but you weren't expecting him to be so dramatic about it. "Sit down next to me, okay?"

Your words snap him out of this headspace, though he is still quite distraught. With a hard swallow, he reluctantly sits down beside you, tight fists in his lap, keeping a space in between him and that diabolical homewrecker.

"You know this dog is not going to replace you, right?" you console him. Even sitting at an equal elevation you are only eye-level with Homelander's pecs, so you have to crane your head up to look at his face.

He stares down at the ground, avoiding eye contact with you as he feels tears beginning to form in his eyes. However, his nerves deflate ever so slightly from feeling your hand touch his fist, and he loosens his stiff grip enough to let you slip your fingers in between his knuckles.

"I care about you Homelander," you continue, giving the leather of his glove a gentle squeeze. "I love you more than anything in the whole entire world. This dog doesn't take away any of those feelings. I just wanted to help him, because he can't help himself. You can understand that, can't you?"

With a deep sigh, he gives you a feeble nod and finally turns his head to look at you. His big blue eyes are glassy as a single tear rolls down his cheek, his nose is sniffling, his lips are quivering, but his mind is solely focused on you now.

You figure this is as good a time as any to introduce him to the dog.

"Can you take your gloves off for me?" you ask tenderly, and Homelander does so immediately, freeing both of his hands and leaving the gloves on the adjacent couch cushion. He returns his left hand to you, entwining it with your fingers and relishing the feeling of your soft skin.

"I want you to meet Murphy," you say, gesturing to the dog. "You can give him a pet. He's a good boy, he won't bite."

"I… I-I don't…" he stutters, holding onto his breath as his eyes dart back and forth. You notice his face subtly twitching, along with his hands going rigid.

"You don't what, sweetie?" you ask him, using your free hand to give the dog a little scratch behind his ear. Slowly, it perks itself up from your lap to angle its head towards your fingers.

"D-don't… don't know h-how…" he mumbles in a voice barely audible to you, sounding more like a small child than a grown man.

"You've never pet a dog before?" you enquire.

The way he once again refuses to look in your direction tells you that you've hit the nail on the head. Owning a pet is just another average human thing Homelander has never been able to experience. He was never permitted to be around animals in the lab, nor has he ever really interacted with them during his tenure at Vought. Not that he would want to anyway, with how delicate and finicky animals are with his size. Regular people can barely handle him, how on earth would a dog that narrowly reaches past his ankles react?

"Hey, hey, it's okay," you reassure him, stroking the top of his left hand. "I'll teach you. Here, just put your other hand out so he can sniff you. It's how dogs say hello."

Although he is hesitant to get acquainted with this scruffy menace, his newfound mortal enemy, he doesn't like to go against your wishes. With the utmost caution, he holds the back of his right hand to the dog's snout. It lazily inspects his large fingers, giving them a plentiful sniff before glancing up at him.

"H-he's staring at m-me," he stammers, his distress creeping up again. What exactly does this fiendish hellhound want from him? Can it smell his fear? Is it out for blood?

"He wants you to pet him," you clarify. "Just right on the top of his head, he likes it there."

He envelops your comparatively tiny hand in his own, trying to keep himself grounded. With a deep inhale of preparation, he shakily uses his index finger, middle finger and thumb to lightly scratch the dog's head. It closes its eyes as it enjoys the superpowered head massage, making content little noises to itself.

"That's it! You're doing great!" you encourage him, putting your other hand on top of his left one. Your praise does wonders to his worries, and he begins calming down enough to relinquish your hand from his iron grasp.

"Listen, I'm gonna go get him some dog treats from the kitchen," you say, sliding off the couch. Homelander looks at you like you've just stabbed him through the heart. You're leaving him alone with this… this beast? All by himself?

"Hey, you'll be fine!" you giggle at his expression, patting him on the knee before heading out of the living room. "I'll only be a second! I'll be right back, I promise!"

Now left unattended with his cunning adversary, Homelander does all in his power to keep his mind stable, and to stop enemy from figuring out how uneasy he feels right now. His hands are close to his abs while he fiddles with his thumbs, and he bounces one of his knees in quick succession.

Suddenly, he notices the dog leisurely get up on the couch cushion, and begin plodding closer to him. His whole body freezes in place at the horror of this mutt hopping up on his thighs and making itself a comfortable bed in the soft padding of his suit. Despite the dog only weighing twenty pounds and barely taking up any space in his lap, it feels like a ticking time bomb set to explode at any moment.

When you come back into the living room, you have to choke back a laugh at the sight of Homelander so utterly terrified at the dog laying on him. However, you swiftly turn your emotions to concern when you see him practically hyperventilating. His first time interacting with a dog is moving so fast, he's finding it hard to calm down.

"W-w-what do I do?!?" he panics, his heart pounding out of his chest as he rapidly becomes overwhelmed. He is about ten seconds away from running out to his balcony launch pad and flying far away.

"You don't have to do anything, he just likes you sweet pea!" you try and comfort him as you climb up on the couch, leaving the box of dog treats on the floor. "He trusts you!"

When Homelander shoots you an expression equal parts terrified and confused, you stand up on the cushion to get close to his face. Keeping yourself steady with a hand perched on his shoulder, you start combing your fingers through his undercut. Your touches are the one sure-fire thing to quickly dampen his anxieties. He can't help but lean his big head closer into your palm, craving your affection.

"Dogs aren't like people, they don't judge. And they have a pretty good sense of character," you point out, giving him a little scratch on his scalp. He gives you a little whine in return. "I have a feeling that Murphy knows you aren't as scary as you look. I think he can see what a gentle giant you really are."

Contemplating what you've said, Homelander glances back down at the dog on his lap, just now realizing that it has fallen asleep. This mongrel, what he suspected to be the Brutus to his Caesar, has trusted him enough to guard its dreams, when it's at its most vulnerable.

The only other being to assume their safety to sleep in his presence was… well, you. Because you don't perceive him like all the others around him do. You don't treat him like he's some incredibly powerful and massive monster; you love him for who he really is, for the truth that he hides and keeps buried deep down in his psyche. You love him unconditionally, just like this dog does.

Homelander's rollercoaster of emotions has finally come to a complete stop, letting him see this situation in a different light. Maybe this creature… this dog isn't out to take you away from him after all. If it can accept him without the prejudice he's experienced his whole life, it can't be all bad.

Maybe he can allow it stay with you… under his supervision.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You don’t really have to ask. Chris stays for dinner. It’s just another way for him to taunt you. That’s what he’s doing, isn’t it? And why? Because you ran away? Because you didn’t want to sit with him at the cafe? You’re shy, that’s all it is. It was never meant to be an insult.

You offer to cook dinner as your grandmother stays out on the porch and swings. You can hear them talking but try to block out their words. You want this night to be over but you know even then, it’s not the end. You can’t believe she would just send you off with him on a date. A stranger!

You put the chicken in the oven and peel potatoes to boil. You hear the front door and footsteps but they climb the stairs instead of coming to you. Maybe he’s looking for the bathroom. You hear the swing squeaking as your grandmother sways, the frame knocking against the house now and again.

You rinse off the skinned potatoes and set them aside, drying off your hands as you peer at the ceiling. You haven’t heard the pipes at all. You put the dishcloth lazily on the counter and tiptoe out to the bottom of the stairs. What is he doing?

You turn away but halt. You face the staircase again and cautiously climb. The bathroom door is wide open and dark. Beside it, your bedroom door is lit up and half-shut. You creep down and as you near, you see Chris standing at the open drawer of your dresser. You place your palm against the wood and inch open the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask but he doesn’t flinch as he carelessly tosses your underwear drawer. “Hey, that’s private–”

He takes out your journal and as you lunge to grab it, he raises it beyond your reach. You collide with him as he faces you and he chuckles. Why is he being so mean?

“Please,” you beg, “don’t–”

“Relax,” he says, “I’m not gonna read it.” He lowers it and taps the flimsy metal lock, “I just wanna get to know you and since you don’t like to talk so much…” he offers the diary and you snatch it away, “I gotta go off clues…”

“I’m sorry, I’m just… shy,” you shrug. “Really, I never meant to make you so mad–”

“I’m not mad,” he turns back to the drawer and pulls out a pair of your plain white cotton panties, “hmm,” he stretches the elastic, “you don’t needa bother with these on our date.” He drops them back into the pile, “doesn’t look like you got anything sexier.”

You blink. Sexier?

“Please,” you sniffle again.

“You got your manners on nice now, don’t you?” he scoffs and slides the drawer shut.

“I never–”

He holds up a finger to hush you. You snap your mouth shut as he turns to the room and crosses his arms. He tilts his head as he takes it in.

“I’m doing you a favour,” he strides forward, approaching the portrait of Bo Peep and her lamb on the wall; the same picture that’s hung there for decades, “it’s about time you grew up.”

You look down shamefully. It’s not like you don’t try. You do. But when you go out and do anything you just trip up on your words and make a fool of yourself. Just like you did with him. You’re just a screw up. Maybe if he realised that, he’d leave you alone.

“I gotta finish dinner,” you back up slowly as you watch him touch the foot of the bed, leaning his weight into the mattress.

“Good girl,” he praises without looking up, dragging his palm over the quilt.

You shudder and swallow, spinning before you lose your nerve. You hurry out, hugging your diary close, and clatter down the stairs. You tuck your diary under the sink and go back to the strainer of potatoes. It’s all your fault. You led the big bad wolf right to your door.

🍎

Dinner goes about as well as you expect. You don’t say much as Chris and your grandma carry much of the conversation; most of it about you. She tells him you never had very many friends as you shrink down and he grins at you. There’s a glint in his dark pupils that sends a shiver through you.

To your relief, he excuses himself after supper and heads off to get his truck from town. Right before your grandma can dive into the story about the Spring Festival and your disastrous teenage folly. He doesn’t part without a promise glance in your direction and a reminder of your date.

You clean up as your grandmother yammers on about it all. He’s such a wonderful man. So good looking. Lynette won’t believe this. Oh, Molly might have five already but you might just be next. That last suggestion makes you want to vomit.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you extract yourself.

She agrees only because her own exhaustion tugs at her eyes and forces a yawn from her chest. You help her upstairs and ask her if she needs anything else. She swats you away as she digs in her nightstand for her pillbox.

“You know, a man like that could really help,” she says as you reach the doorway, “he must have a nice nest egg if he’s bought the old Clyde lot.”

You hold back your remonstrance. A pang of guilt jabs in your chest. You can’t blame her for thinking it. You need money and her social security should be stretched so thin. She earned it, not you.

“I’ll go to the pharmacy tomorrow,” you say as her pill bottle rattles, “I forgot.”

“Oh yes, the pharmacy,” she titters, “say hello to Chris for me, won’t ya, hon.”

You nod and leave her, pulling her door just an inch from the frame. You tramp down the hall to your room and sigh as you enter. You won’t just be going to the pharmacy, you’ll be looking for a job. Again. Who knows, maybe there’ll be an opening at the grocery store? Or you can check the pinboard outside the church.

You sit on the side of your bed and nearly choke. You can smell him rippling off of your bedding, the faint scent of cedar and sweat. Even if you do find something, it won’t get rid of him.

[imtrashraccoon]

I dunno why this one seemed to take me longer than the previous one to write as they're pretty much the same length. Meh, it's a solid chapter with plenty of comfort and a teensy bit of spice.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Last Day.

Bad Sansuary: Free Space - Scars

Word Count: 2,889

Feat. Axe & Killer!

Today was another difficult one. You couldn't put your finger on an exact reason why but you were just feeling down. You'd decided to just wander around the castle to see if one of the boys wasn't busy. Surely hanging out with someone would help cheer you up.

Just as you passed by the kitchen, you heard some clattering inside like someone was inside doing something. You poked your head in the room to find the exact person you had figured would be cooking right now.

Axe was in the middle of chopping up a small mound of potatoes, presumably to go with dinner later on, and he was already almost through what was there. You couldn't help but admire how dexterously he wielded the large knife that he was using and how perfectly uniform each of the cubes were.

He seemed to be in his element and you almost thought about just leaving so you wouldn't disturb him. He glanced up before you could though, apparently having sensed that you were staring. You had no idea how he kept doing that.

"hey, lil' chip," he greeted. His permanent smile stretched wider into a more genuine one and the corner of his good eye socket crinkled slightly.

"Hey Axe..." You went to go sit down on one of the barstools that were on the other side of the kitchen island where he was working. Folding your arms on the counter, you propped your chin on them so you could watch him work.

"somethin' the matter?" he asked, raising a bonebrow.

You hummed in a non-committal way.

"if ya need to, ya can tell me anythin'." He finished chopping the potatoes and moved them into a pot of water before setting them on the stove to boil.

"I don't know where to start really."

He started getting some spices out of the pantry. "are ya feelin' sick?" he called over his shoulder.

"No, I feel fine... A little tired though I guess."

He emerged from the pantry with a cinnamon stick, the container of peppercorn, and a couple of other ones that you didn't know the names of off the top of your head. He got out a mortar and pestle from the cupboard to start grinding them up before speaking again.

"i'm guessin' you're not sleepin' well then?"

You shrugged, "Nightmare still has to knock me out with magic so I guess not."

Axe grimaced and shook his skull. "that's better than not sleepin'... i could look into some remedies if ya want, besides actual medicine anyways."

"Sure, it couldn't hurt."

You found yourself following the grain of the finished wooden countertop with your eyes for a couple of minutes while Axe continued with whatever he was preparing.

Only when he set a mug with something hot that smelled spicy on the counter next to you, did you look up at him again. He sat down on a bar stool next to you and gently stroked your hair. You continued to sit there quietly while he tried to comfort you with a little bit of affection.

Hearing footsteps, he looked over at the doorway and quirked a bonebrow at whoever had entered the kitchen. You glanced over as well only to find Killer leaning against the wall.

He smirked and tilted his skull in what you thought was curiousity. "what's up?"

Axe hummed before answering, "she's havin' a day..."

Killer nodded in a knowing way and strode up to the kitchen island. He leaned against it and scanned your face thoughtfully.

"aw, you poor thing," he murmured. "maybe we could cheer you up?" He glanced over at Axe who only shrugged in response.

Killer took a seat next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leaning his skull against your head. "i found a new joke if you want to hear it, cutie."

"Is it a good one this time?" you grumbled.

Rather than answer, Killer decided to go ahead and tell the joke. "what do you call a bear with no teeth?" He only paused for a few seconds before adding, "a gummy bear."

You rolled your eyes. It was another lame one.

He tried again. "two men walked into a bar...you'd think at least one of them would've ducked."

Axe chuckled quietly but you could only bring yourself to exhale through your nose.

"did you hear about the claustrophobic astronaut? he just wanted some more space..."

You buried your face in your arms and groaned. "Your jokes are always bad, Killer..."

Axe quietly clicked his non-existent tongue and you heard the distinct sound of bone hitting bone followed by Killer letting out a surprised yelp as he jerked his skull away from you.

"what'd you do that for, big guy?"

"you're bein' annoyin'," Axe rumbled and took one of your hands in his much larger one.

Killer huffed and turned to properly look at him. "let's see you tell a better one then?" he asked in a challenging tone.

Axe paused for a moment as he thought it over, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles over the back of your hand. "ok, here's one... how many telemarketers does it take to change a light bulb?"

You looked up at him in a curious manner. "I dunno...how many?"

Before he responded, Axe glanced at Killer, who only shrugged, although he also looked interested in the answer. "only one, but he has to do it while you're eatin' dinner..."

You couldn't help the small smile that flickered over your face. Maybe it was because Axe was the one who'd told it or maybe it was just an actually good joke, you didn't know.

Killer let out a quiet hum of approval, "not bad..." He glanced at you and tilted his skull as he studied your facial expression. His smile fell slightly and he scooted a bit closer to you when he failed to find whatever he was searching for.

"it's not like you to be this quiet... so, what's bothering you?" he asked in a more serious voice.

You sighed and straightened up slightly. While you didn't want to talk about it and risk making them feel bad, they were still concerned about you.

"Well, besides the whole going through literal Armageddon, I guess right now I'm struggling with guilt. Like, I'm the only one who made it out alive and...it feels like I could've done something to help others."

"nightmare wouldn't have rescued anyone else, you know. he helped you because he took a liking to you like we did," Killer said in a matter-of-fact tone. He chuckled and glanced at Axe before adding, "In case you forgot, we're not exactly good people, angel..."

"ya told me yourself that ya weren't close with your family and i know ya didn't have any other close friends. so who would ya have even tried to save anyways?" Axe asked.

"I...don't know..." you murmured and looked down at your hands. "Even though I wasn't particularly close with anyone, I guess I'm just sad that everyone I ever knew is gone."

Both skeletons were quiet for a moment.

Axe finally put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "it's okay to feel this way, lil' chip... it'll probably be rough for a while, but ya aren't alone in this."

"you can come to any of us if you need to talk, okay?" Killer added. "we'll probably understand as we're all survivors of our respective worlds."

You glanced at him and then at Axe, who nodded solemnly. From what they'd told you about themselves, you knew in your soul that they were telling the truth.

The mug of what you thought was tea had cooled off a little bit and you finally took a sip. It was sweeter than you'd expected but not like a sugary sweet. It was also spicy but in a way that made you feel warm and cozy.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment as the warm, comforting liquid made its way through your system. It was easily the best tea you'd had in a while even though you generally preferred to drink coffee.

Looking over at Axe, you gave him a warm smile. "This is really good. What's it called?" you asked.

He seemed really pleased by your reaction and the corners of his permanent grin quirked up at the edges. He couldn't seemed to restrain his joy and gave your head a gentle pat.

" 's called chai tea. i can show ya how it's made later if ya want more."

You nodded enthusiastically and turned your attention back to the tea, relishing how warm the mug still was against your palms.

"the thing with trauma, is it's somethin' that ya nearly always carry with ya... sometimes 's pretty obvious and other times it isn't," Axe said with a hum.

When you glanced at him, he gestured to the crater in his skull. "i never told ya how this happened i guess..."

You shook your head and he let out a small sigh. He drummed his claws in the countertop for a moment while he collected his thoughts.

"...i don't like to talk about it much," he muttered. You noticed the edges of his deep red eyelight were quivering and he started to reach for the right side of his face, but stopped himself and clenched his fists on the counter.

"You really don't have to if it's that painful..." you started to say.

"no." Axe interrupted and turned to look at you sharply. "i want to tell you. 's not somethin' that bothers me as much anymore..."

You nodded and took another sip of your tea, giving him your full attention. Killer's arms snaked around your waist as he practically sprawled out on top of you. He only smirked when you gave him an unimpressed glare but didn't let go.

"you remember the famine i told you about, right?" When you nodded again, Axe continued, "that wasn't the only issue we had to deal with. the core, the thing powerin' the entire underground, started to fail. i used to dabble with technical stuff and so i stepped in to help..."

He grew quiet again and clenched his fists. "my brother also stepped in to help a friend, who used to be the captain of the guard, rule the underground after the king died... they got into an argument over somethin' trivial, i forget exactly what, and started fightin'... i tried to break them apart but she was too angry to see reason... that's how this happened..."

You furrowed your brows with concern. You'd tried to be careful not to stare at the crack in his skull in the past as it seemed rude and you'd never asked about it either. Before now, you had just thought he'd received it from an accident or from a fight. Although, knowing that a friend was the one who'd hurt him was far worse than either of those scenarios.

"That's awful... I'm amazed you managed to survive and come out of that in one piece."

Axe shook his skull slowly. "not quite... memory's not great anymore and talkin' used to be a lot harder too."

Killer hummed and his hold around your waist loosened a bit. "i changed too," he murmured. "after everything i've been through, my soul became heavily warped and now it's always visible."

"I was always curious about what that was." You briefly glanced at the red target that always seemed to float over his sternum.

"i'm still surprised you never asked me about it...most people can't help but stare." He shrugged and looked away. "i don't mind anymore but it's still my soul, you know? it's still embarrassing when people draw attention to it or touch it without asking first. granted, most aren't alive that long to even focus on it..."

"I can understand how that must feel, being so exposed that is, but I can't imagine having to deal with that all the time," you remarked and squeezed one of his hands in an effort to comfort him.

On second thought, you reached over and placed your other hand on one of Axe's. "You're both so strong... I... Sometimes, I don't think I deserve to have friends who care so much for me like you do." You swallowed in an effort to keep yourself from crying and took a steadying breath.

"Just...thank you... Thank you for always being here for me and trying to make me feel better. Thank you...for sharing your scars with me..."

Axe placed his other hand on top of yours and gave you a gentle smile. "ya don't have to have visible scars to be valid, lil' chip. we'll always be here if you ever need us..."

Killer nodded vigorously in agreement. He chuckled and ran his other hand over the back of yours. "even when you're feeling down, you're still quick to try and comfort people, huh, angel cheeks?"

You rolled your eyes and jerked your hand away from him. "Look, I can't help it... It's basically second nature to me, okay?" you grumbled.

Axe stood up suddenly, causing you to glance over at him, wondering if he was upset. Instead, he seemed happy and held open his arms in the universal gesture for a hug.

You didn't hesitate for a second and squirmed out of Killer's grasp, which he let out a small whine of disappointment over. You didn't care though and immediately went to embrace Axe.

He responded by picking you up and engulfing you in one of his signature bear hugs. You couldn't help giggling from the gesture and tried to wrap your arms around him, but couldn't even span halfway around his ribcage.

"aw, don't leave me out!"

You and Axe both looked over at Killer, who was doing his best to look forlorn. You didn't know skeletons could manage to look so pouty but it was somehow effectively tugging at your heartstrings.

Axe grunted and you swear he rolled his eyelight. "you've been hangin' off of her this entire time so ya don't get to complain..."

Killer stood up and marched over to the two of you. "so? she's too adorable not to hug..." He winked at you and to Axe's frustration, managed to worm his way into the hug.

You didn't mind in the slightest and tried to hug him back, but it was a bit difficult to do so as you were technically pinned between them.

Killer was suddenly inches from your face and his permanent grin morphed into more of a smirk. "i know something that could make you even cuter though~"

You felt your cheeks heat up and you tried to create some distance, but you literally couldn't move. He closed then closed the gap and pressed a kiss against your cheek, with no regard for how embarrassed it made you.

"there we go~" he purred.

Then, one of Axe's large hands grabbed Killer's skull and basically pried him off of you. He tried to reach for you with grabby hands, but Axe was holding him just out of reach. Thankfully, the giant of a skeleton safely set the beanpole on the ground, but then he adjusted the way he was holding you so that you were more out of reach.

"tiny menace," Axe growled, although he didn't really seem angry, just mildly annoyed.

Killer crossed his arms. "i resent that, you're literally the only one taller than me."

"still tiny."

While it was kind of funny watching them bicker, you weren't about to point out that you were shorter than all of them. It was still slightly frustrating that they could just leer over you whenever they felt like it.

Axe clicked his non-existent tongue and shifted his attention over to you. "you're not mad he did that, right?" he asked.

You shook your head but avoided looking directly at Killer for fear of blushing even more. No doubt he'd make a face or do something stupid just to get that sort of reaction out of you.

"i can't let him get away with that, ya know?" His tone was a bit more gruff from before and being this close to him caused it to vibrate throughout your whole body.

"I...uh..." You couldn't seem to formulate a coherent response and you were certain your cheeks had turned a bright pink.

With a low chuckle, Axe pressed a skeleton kiss against your other cheek. As soon as he let go, you ducked your head against his ribcage in an effort to hide how flushed you'd become.

"well that's one thing i can agree with ya with," Axe hummed. "she's definitely cuter this way..."

You weakly punched his shoulder and grumbled under your breath. They were going to be the death of you one of these days, you were certain of it.

Things would be okay eventually or at least, you were confident you'd be able to say that one day. You had actual friends now who would see you through thick and thin, which was certainly more than you had before. You had plenty of time to make many more happy memories too. Maybe you could even make some more friends? Hopefully some more "normal" ones but you weren't betting on it...

[terry-the-insane]

Arachnophobia: A bedrock edition mod

Hunstman spiders are active predators which spawn the same areas as wolf spiders (vanilla spiders) at a slightly less common rate. They behave mostly the same as wolf spiders, but are much faster and vary in size, larger huntsman spiders are more common in warmer climates.

Cellar spiders (also known as daddy longlegs) are common cave dwellers that solemn move unless disturbed. Upon spawning they will seek out or build a web and lie perfectly still until another mob touches it. Their venom isn't lethal, but beware that they can easily trap you in silk if you don't pay attention to where you're going.

The vinegaroon is a strange arachnid resembling a cross between a spider and a scorpion, they spawn in swamps and jungles in the dark. Vinegaroons are not venomous, but instead have the ability to spray acid projectiles from their abdomen. Real life vinegaroon acid is akin to vinegar (hence their name), but arachnophobia's vinegaroon sprays hydrochloric acid instead, and it can destroy some blocks.

Jumping spiders are commonly found in densely wooded biomes and are typically docile to players. Though they have very little health, they hit hard for their size and are quite agile, they also specialize in hunting other spiders and deal twice as much damage to arachnids. Jumping spiders can be tamed by giving them spider eyes, they can sit on your head and will immediately pounce on any threat. Like frogs, jumping spiders have three variants based on the climate they spawn in.

Whip spiders are cave dwelling arachnids which are not venomous, but they hit hard and they are absurdly fast. Whip spiders are highly aggressive and cannibalistic towards their own kind, but only sometime attack players unprovoked, every once in a while one will run up and punch you, launching you tens of blocks away. If a hostile mob is nearby, the whip spider will wave its "antennae", and will wave them more intensely if a particularly dangerous mob is near, just remember that the mob only has to be a potential threat to the whip spider, so it'll warn you if there's something less dangerous to players such as an iron golem.

The harvestman (also called the daddy longlegs, a title it shares with the cellar spider) is a harmless omnivore arachnid that spawns in roofed forests and redwoods. Harvestmen can be mounted if you feed them a poisonous potato, and controlled with a special item. If a predatory arachnid is nearby, the harvestman will panic and flee, becoming incredibly fast when mounted.

Neith is a powerful boss which can be summoned using a special eye rarely dropped by spiders, and alternates between melee, ranged and AOE attacks, and has the ability to control spiders. If you defeat Neith, she will reward you with a special armor which can be infused with the shed exoskeleton of an arachnid to gain their abilities, receiving both a buff and debuff (e.g. jumping spider armor allows you to jump super far, but it also makes you tiny).

The tarantula is a huge spider that sometimes spawns in caves above y coordinate 45 and cannot be controlled by neith, as she considers them to be heathens. Tarantulas are territorial and solemn go far from their home, and prefer to hunt at night. They will attack any other mob and will defend their territory fiercely from other tarantulas, once it's day they retreat to their caves, their aggro radius is halved and they will warn you before attacking.

One of serveral non-arachnids in the mod, moths are flying insects which commonly spawn at night in most overworld biomes and have a variety of biome specific variants, are frequently preyed upon by arachnids, especially web spiders such as the daddy longlegs. Moths are harmless although some variants are poisonous (they inflict debuffs if you hit them, but don't actually fight back), and will start to slowly die if they exist in the world for too long. Moths will often fly towards länterns, and will follow you if you hold one, they also have a rare chance to drop their wings which can be equipped.

The wolf spider is literally just the vanilla minecraft spider, but remodeled. It's behavior has not been altered in any way.

Like the wolf spider, the redback spider is the vanilla cave spider but redesigned.

Emperor scorpions can be found in tropical biomes at night. They are not very fast, but are large and powerful and can use their shield-like pincers to deflect attacks.

Deathstalkers are scorpions that spawn in arid biomes at night, especially in deserts. They are much smaller and weaker than emperors, but possess deadly venom.

A massive semi-aquatic arachnid, the thunder scorpion is a force to be reckoned with. Thunder scorpions do not spawn naturally, and instead are found in a similar way to the sniffer, since like the sniffer it is also an extinct prehistoric species.

Thunder scorpions can be raised and will be docile towards whoever raises them, but to anything and anyone else they can become aggressive, they start out very small and grow very slowly, but over a long time will continue to grow and become an eventually unstoppable killing machine. The modern day atmosphere is much different from that of the thunder scorpion's original time period, meaning that fully grown thunder scorpions slowly grow weaker until they inevitably die.

[a-d-nox]

*SALE* holiday leftovers: build your own plate

[ status: CLOSED ]

hello, my friends/followers! i am so excited yet sad to announce this sale. firstly, i am excited because i never thought i would ever hold a sale AND WHO DOESN'T LOVE A SALE!!! secondly, i am sad because this is the LAST CHANCE for you to purchase all of the below reading options (unless i see fit after this sale to re-instate any of them as options). i am grateful for everyone who has previously purchased a reading from me and thus helped me to see a trend in the readings everyone enjoys!

a few things:

- please note that with the sale i am likely to have an increased demand.

- the sale will last from today (november 22nd, 2023) until november 29th, 2023. BUT if the demand gets too high i am at my leisure to close/end the sale early.

- you must fill out this google forms. if there are issues with the link please dm me.

- all readings are non-refundable.

reading options ->

drink options (1.50 USD)

apple cider: a tarot reading. you ask a series of 3 yes or no questions (they must all be different questions). you may chose if you want to hear the why or why not.

cranberry juice: a tarot reading used to identify the energy that surrounds you and how can you best protect your energy.

espresso: an archetypal reading. i use the fantod pack, a creepy little deck, to tell you what disturbing image you are. from the waltzing mouse to the burning head to the body bag, this deck keeps you guessing and i can tell you how you can beat the elements of this strange archetype.

pumpkin juice: a tarot reading. a short reading regarding the energy of the day (or surrounding a situation) and what you should look out for.

appetizer options (3.00 USD)

baked brie: a matrix of destiny / wyrd web reading. side hustle potential assessment based on the wyrd web.

cheese ball: an astrology reading. pick three things you wish to know about your mercury return cycle (what your communication style will be like this cycle, what your voice is like, how your thinking changes, your health changes, perspective changes, your writing style or endeavors, social media trends (your online status), short trips you could be taking, your mannerisms and how they change, your mode of transportation / transportation woes, etc.).

cranberry brie jalapeño poppers: an astrology reading. pick three things you wish to know about your mars return cycle (your confidence and lack thereof, sex life, what will make you angry / frustrated / aggressive / competitive, your impulsive behavior, where you are dominant / a leader, the challenge(s) you face, etc).

cranberry-glazed turkey meatballs: using the green glyph's rune deck, i give general advice on any given subject matter.

fried mashed potato bites: a tarot reading. why you struggle in romances. warning: harsh / brutal honesty.

mac and cheese balls: using the green glyph's oracle deck, i give general advice on any given subject matter.

popover: a matrix of destiny / wyrd web reading. a generational number combo assessment based on the wyrd web.

pumpkin hummus: a tarot reading. what is your strength and what is your weakness - great for job applications as well (i don't care if you want to copy and paste it for use in your applications).

sugar roasted nuts: a matrix of destiny / wyrd web reading. a love assessment based on the wyrd web (matrix of destiny). assesses what is stopping you from finding love, what your romantic partners are like (the ideal and toxic versions), and how you can keep love flowing towards you in this lifetime.

sweet potato bites: a tarot reading. vibe check on your mind, body, and spirit as well as advice (if needed). this is NOT a medical assessment and can NOT be used as a diagnosis.

side options (6.00 USD)

mashed potatoes: a tarot reading. seven card draw evaluation of the energy of each day of your week ahead as well as advice to make the week the best and most efficient that it can be.

rolls: a tarot reading. best bet for any topic NOT seen in the list - will address the past, present, and future regarding your question as well as the energies involved.

sweet potato casserole: a tarot reading. stuck between two options? this reading will help you weigh pros and cons as well as tells you the potential outcome of acting towards either option.

main course options (20.00 USD)

turkey: using the green glyph's lenormand deck i give general advice on any given subject matter. this a reading using the maximum amount of cards in a lenormand deck.

glazed ham: a tarot reading. at a crossroad in life with three options and no clue which to go for? this one is for you - lets you know where each leads and gives advice cards as well.

duck confit: a tarot reading. the current vibes of each energy associated with the astrological houses (1h-12h).

[sleepingnova]

Imagine kozume comforting his partner after they get their teeth pulled.

warnings : none, just comfort.

A/N : originally, I was going to post this last week, due to me getting both my molars pulled last week. It's been about a week and I haven't really done anything with this, but this is me making up for not posting in like 2 months.

"It hurts really badly, babe." You whined to your boyfriend on the drive home.

"I know babe, but it's worth it, right? They won't hurt anymore after a couple of days." He replied, one hand tightening around the wheel and the other hand squeezing yours.

"Mmmmmm I'm so sleepy babe, can I lay on your shoulder?" You asked, your words slurring due to the anesthetic.

"Pumpkin, I'm driving. I need to be able to drive. We're almost home, okay?" He replied, side glancing you.

"Nooo I don't wanna go home. My mom hates me." You pouted.

"I was talking about you just staying the night but whatever." He explained, pulling into a driveway.

Both of you exit the car and into the blonde's house.

"Dad?" Kozume asked, testing if anything was disturbed by his voice.

After looking back and locking the door, he shrugged, "No one's home, my dad isn't usually home anyway, he's just been.." He paused, trying to find the right word for his father's absence, before resuming. "around lately. Anyways, you must be hungry, you haven't eaten anything all day." He paused, searching the kitchen for non solid foods.

After searching, he continued, "Okay, I have some mochi's I found, I could make mashed potatoes, yogurt, or applesauce. If you don't want any of those, I could make you some soup. That won't hurt, would it?"

You pondered, before responding, "The applesauce please."

He nodded, handing you the applesauce and a small spoon, along with a bottle of water and some painkillers.

"Take 2 of these," he stopped, pointing to the painkillers in his hand before continuing, "then eat the applesauce. After, we can sit on the couch, and do whatever you'd like." He resumed, implying he didn't want any food on the couch.

After your applesauce, you curled in a ball on the couch, with a blanket. He spotted you and walked over, joining you.

He put on a simple YouTube stream and within a couple of minutes, he heard your slowed breathing against him. He glanced over to see you sleeping, rather uncomfortably on the couch. His gaze softened, as he pulled you into his lap, shifting to fit both of you on the couch.

With both of you laid, he slowly started to fall asleep, and within no time, he was asleep as well, the mumbles of the TV playing in the background.

[mundrakan]

I often wondered why child-fics are so bad. But then, when I had my own children, it clicked. Children are very rarely written by people who actually have them, because with all the cuteness they are exhausting little devils.

Therefore here is some writing advice to non-kid-owners to make them write more realistic kids instead of little angels. And yes: my kids do all of that at some point, and yes, it's bloody annoying ;) (and yes, I still love them)

This only applies to small children (up to... 7 or so, but feel free to update with older kids behaviour)

Awful timing - you just need another minute of sleep? Or some naughty time with your partner? Or you just have this one thing to do to perfect your art? Guess who is standing in the door and NOT leaving?

Persistence - I mean the not leaving part. I do. You can literally carry a child of the room and tell them to stay out. Guess who is back in two minutes?

Impatience - Everything you are supposed to do for them has to happen IMMEDIATELY. They have literally no waiting span and come to think of it: no attention span.

Egotism: Don't get me wrong. Kids ARE compassionate. But only as long as it doesn't infringe their own happiness. The moment it does they go batshit.

Emotional blackmail - I am not sure, but in my experience EVERY child can cry on command. EVERY child

Tantrums - Yes, they will throw tantrums. They will scream, they will jump around like little devils, they will fault you for everything including the sinking of the Titanic, and they will kick, bite, slap you, if you get to close. There are two things to make it worse: one, it can happen within a heartbeat with literally no warning, the other: they have no in between phase. Not only can they go into full tantrum mode at the drop of the hat, they can go back to normal in the same time span, and then expect you to be "nice" with them again.

Rational thinking exists only for special occasions - you can argue with kids, they will understand. But when it comes to the specific situation more often than not it gets down to: I understood your opinion and it's likely valid, but I like mine better.

Disturbance - if you are at home, the kids will assume you are available. If they assume you are available, you will be literally unable to sit two minutes in peace and quiet. This is of course situational, but more often than not it is true .

Eating - You might have heard it, but even totally normal kids have this phase where they will eat NOTHING but pasta and maybe mashed potatoes without protest. Oh... and sweets. Everything else prompts lengthy discussions about why they should eat that. (that's not true for every kid, but for many)

Refusing tasks - they don't want to do it? Prepare for hour-long discussions or severe conflict. Bonus points if you are in a hurry.

Everything only after it's too late - not all kids do that, but most don't have any understanding of timelines. If you give them a deadline, they will literally start at the very last moment and inevitably fail, then wail and scream, when consequences are on the table. Ironically the same is true for punishment. They will only realize they effed up, once the punishment IS in place - and then of course it's all your fault, even when said punishment literally is just due to the circumstances as in: now we can't go to eat ice-cream, because it took you so long to dress that the parlour is closed.

Cuddling - don't get me wrong, I love cuddling the kids. But the thing is: they do not just want that when you want them to (more often than not that's the time when they don't). They want to cuddle when you have no time, when you are angry at them or dead tired. When you have to do literally anything other than that - and you cannot just tell them no either, because they need to feel loved.

Rules - all kids reach the point somewhere, when they treat rules like cats do. They constantly have to test them and see what they can get away with. Like... I wasn't allowed to eat chocolate before breakfast yesterday... but.. how about today? Only consequent keeping those rules will save you. Maybe

Energy - it's not per se a bad thing, but still true. You have gone out with them, ran around for hours and hours. You are exhausted. You get home, looking forward to put your feet up, and the kids... they just drink something and are like: can we go again?

This list is of course far from exhaustive, so feel free to add, but I hope it helps with some writing on kids.

[animatorweirdo]

Good morning/evening! It's muffin anon. Now, *deep breath* imagine;

Fingon, with a freshly reascued Maedhros ends up in modern doctor reader's backyard. Not backyard-kun on its way to become truck-kun of reverse isekai. After a brief confused period, doctor reader takes them in, gives them a place to stay and starts treating Maedhros. It takes quite some time for Mae to fully heal even with elivsh healing and modern medicine. Reader becomes close with Fingon at the long nights where they need to keep an eye on Mae's condition. Reader also becomes attached to Maedhros as caring for someone's health for a long time makes you feel close to them even if you have never really spoken.

After Mae recovers him and Fingon disappear the exact way they had appeared, mysteriously and into the night. Reader struggles to find meaning in life again as caring for and protecting these elves was their goal in life for quite a long time. But, they eventualky manage to get back on their feet.

In a twist of fate, Reader finds themselves in the outskirts of Amon Ereb some time after the Third Kinslaying. They get found by a patrol and are brought to Maedhros. The two have a nice and emotional reunion. (I would love to read their reactions feom your pen.) And Maedhros lets Reader stay and makes sure all of their needs are seen to as he feels indebted to reader for healing him.

Reader meets with Maglor, who both Maedhros and Fingon talked a lot about during their stay. Reader gets close to Maglor as well.

And Reader meets the twins. Reader falls in love with these very cute children at the first sight and practically becomes a co-parent liek Mae and Maglor.

Also, imagine tiny Elrond being fascinated with reader's medical abilities and reader teaching him modern medicine.

But, reader leaving right before the War of Wrath by the same force that keeps sending people around the multiverse.

Reader lands home and this time, they are very disturbed and cannot find meaning in life. One day, they cross street without looking both ways and, you guessed it, truck-kun does his work and isekais reader to Middle Earth. This time about 5 years before the war of the ring, in Rivendell. Elrond is very surprised to see Reader again and they have a heartwarming reunion. Reader ia treated with utmost reapect in Rivendell, both as a healer of great skill and as a parental figure to their Lord.

Reader lives their best life in Rivendell, though seeing the once life filled elven race so old and torn breaks their heart.

When the War of the Rings comes, reader goes with the Grey Company and helps the healers in Minas Tirith. They earn the respect of the Gondorians and become the Master of the Healing Halls after Aragorn's coronation. They introduce modern medicine to Gondor and help rebuild the ruined parts of the city.

When it is time for Elrond to sail, reader and him can be found hugging and crying while saying goodbye.

Reader comes back to Minas Tirith. Reader helps to reform Gondor's healing methods, stop epidemics from spreading and occasionally help Aragorn with court matters. People are impressed with reader's problem solving ability, little do they know it is all modern knowladge taught in schools.

Readers lives a long, prosprous and fulfilling life in Gondor and pass away at old age. They go down in history as the 'mother/father of medicine'.

I feel like this story has been a little too sweet. It needs an angsty twist. But I couldn't figure out what it could be.

What do you think about this unusally non angsty story from me?

Oh, Muffin. It's good, but I think getting pulled forth and back by the time and space has angst enough on its own. I don't think anyone would retain their sanity if they get tossed around like a potato sack and how about this --- since reader does technically die by the truck and is technically reincarnated. What if they get reborn as an elf? They kept their memories and knowledge in healing. They do their thing in Middle Earth and Gondor then tries to seek out Maglor, so they can sail to the Undying lands together to be reunited with Elrond and the rest of their family. Reader doesn't have to spend their time alone and could see Fingon again. A happy ending after experiencing three ages in a row. It's the least reader deserves.

[pruning-the-minds-garden]

When and Where Can You Do Hypnokink

Ordinary kink rules apply for doing hypnokink, most of the time. You want to do it in the privacy of your own homes/bedrooms, or some other setting that’s appropriate for doing kinky scenes in without disturbing any passersby. However, one advantage that hypnokink has over many other kinks is that it is comparatively invisible, and so some aspects of it can be done in full view with none being the wiser. That has to be approached cautiously, however. People are smarter and more observant than your horny brain wants to think they are. You don’t want to expose non-consenting persons to explicit elements of kink in inappropriate settings.

In addition to all that, a lot of hypnokink can - and is - done online. Whole communities of online hypnokinksters exist, because hypnosis can be done just as easily through a Skype/Zoom/Discord Video or Voice Call, a recorded video or audio file, or through text chat, as it can through an in-person induction. You can deliver inductions that way, you can deliver triggers (if “you will cum when I next say the word ‘potato’” is the suggestion then “potato” is the trigger) that way, you can do nearly anything and everything that’s a part of hypnokink that way. There are a lot of long-distance hypnokinky relationships.

This is part of my larger writing, The Five W's of Hypnokink! Go to the link to read the whole thing.

[khetibuddyca]

5 Essential Practices for Agricultural Sustainability

Agricultural sustainability is crucial for ensuring that we can meet today's food needs without compromising the ability of future generations to meet theirs. With the growing global population, it's more important than ever to adopt farming practices that protect the environment, maintain soil health, and support long-term agricultural productivity. Here are five essential practices for achieving agricultural sustainability.

1. Crop Rotation

What is Crop Rotation?

Crop rotation involves growing different types of crops in the same area in sequential seasons. This practice helps in managing soil fertility and controlling pests and diseases.

Benefits of Crop Rotation:

Soil Health: Different crops contribute different nutrients to the soil. For example, legumes fix nitrogen in the soil, which is beneficial for the following crops.

Pest and Disease Control: Rotating crops disrupts the life cycles of pests and diseases that are specific to certain crops.

Weed Management: Different crops compete with different weeds, helping to control weed populations naturally.

How to Implement Crop Rotation:

Start by planning a rotation schedule that includes a mix of crops with different nutrient requirements and pest resistance. For example, you could rotate between legumes (like beans), cereals (like wheat), and root vegetables (like potatoes).

2. Conservation Tillage

What is Conservation Tillage?

Conservation tillage is a farming practice that minimizes soil disturbance by reducing the amount of tilling. This can include no-till or reduced-till practices.

Benefits of Conservation Tillage:

Soil Erosion Prevention: Less tilling means the soil structure remains intact, reducing erosion by wind and water.

Moisture Retention: By not turning the soil, moisture is better retained, which is beneficial in dry climates.

Soil Health: Minimizing soil disturbance helps maintain organic matter and soil organisms, contributing to overall soil health.

How to Implement Conservation Tillage:

Use specialized equipment designed for no-till or reduced-till farming. Cover crops can also be used to protect the soil surface and improve soil structure.

3. Integrated Pest Management (IPM)

What is Integrated Pest Management?

IPM is a holistic approach to pest control that uses a combination of techniques to keep pest populations at manageable levels.

Benefits of IPM:

Environmental Protection: Reduces the reliance on chemical pesticides, which can harm beneficial insects and contaminate water sources.

Cost-Effective: Can reduce the cost of pest control by using natural predators and other non-chemical methods.

Sustainable Pest Control: By using a variety of methods, pests are less likely to develop resistance.

How to Implement IPM:

IPM can be implemented with the help of precision farming software. Start with regular monitoring of pest populations and use a combination of biological controls (like introducing natural predators), cultural practices (like crop rotation), and mechanical controls (like traps). Chemical controls should be used as a last resort.

4. Agroforestry

What is Agroforestry?

Agroforestry integrates trees and shrubs into agricultural landscapes, combining agriculture and forestry practices.

Benefits of Agroforestry:

Biodiversity: Promotes a diverse ecosystem by providing habitats for various species.

Soil Health: Trees and shrubs help prevent soil erosion and improve soil structure with their root systems.

Climate Resilience: Trees can provide shade and windbreaks, protecting crops from extreme weather.

How to Implement Agroforestry:

Incorporate trees and shrubs into your farm's design, such as planting windbreaks along field edges, creating alley cropping systems, or integrating trees into pastures for livestock.

5. Sustainable Water Management

What is Sustainable Water Management?

Sustainable water management involves using water resources efficiently and responsibly to ensure long-term availability.

Benefits of Sustainable Water Management:

Water Conservation: Reduces the amount of water needed for irrigation, preserving water resources.

Cost Savings: Efficient water use can reduce irrigation costs.

Soil Health: Proper water management prevents soil erosion and nutrient leaching.

How to Implement Sustainable Water Management:

Use drip irrigation systems to deliver water directly to plant roots, reducing evaporation and runoff. Collect and store rainwater for irrigation, and implement practices like mulching to retain soil moisture.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

1. What is the primary goal of agricultural sustainability?

The primary goal is to meet current food needs without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs. This involves protecting the environment, maintaining soil health, and ensuring long-term agricultural productivity.

2. How does crop rotation improve soil health?

Crop rotation improves soil health by alternating crops that contribute different nutrients to the soil, such as nitrogen-fixing legumes, and by breaking pest and disease cycles specific to certain crops.

3. What is the difference between conservation tillage and traditional tillage?

Conservation tillage minimizes soil disturbance compared to traditional tillage. This practice helps prevent soil erosion, retain moisture, and maintain soil health.

4. How does integrated pest management (IPM) reduce the need for chemical pesticides?

IPM uses a combination of techniques like biological controls, cultural practices, and mechanical controls to manage pests. This reduces the reliance on chemical pesticides, which can harm beneficial insects and the environment.

5. Can agroforestry be implemented on small farms?

Yes, agroforestry can be adapted to farms of all sizes. Small farms can integrate trees and shrubs into their landscapes, such as planting windbreaks or creating alley cropping systems.

6. Why is sustainable water management important for agriculture?

Sustainable water management ensures the long-term availability of water resources, reduces irrigation costs, and prevents soil erosion and nutrient leaching. Efficient water use is critical in maintaining soil health and agricultural productivity.

By adopting these essential practices, farmers can contribute to a more sustainable agricultural system that benefits both the environment and future food security. Each practice offers unique advantages and, when combined, can create a resilient and productive farming system.

[kwilooo]

Laimingos Užgavėnės!!

To all of my Lithuanian peers out there, happy Užgavėnės!

Disclaimer: I do not live in Lithuania and have never taken part in a celebration in Lithuania. Not everything might be correct.

A small description and history:

Užgavėnės, Mardi Gras, and Fat Tuesday are all names of this holiday, which takes place seven weeks before Easter and the day before Ash Wednesday.

In Lithuania, it is essentially welcoming spring and celebrating the departure of winter. I believe it is of Pagan origin, as Lithuanians were pagan before the mass popularity of Christianity. (Correct me if I’m wrong)

As Lithuania was, and really still is, mainly farmland (of course there are still large cities like Vilnius, Kaunas, and Alytus), the arrival of spring was very important so they could plant their crops because obviously, things cannot really grow during the winter.

Some traditions:

One of my favorite traditions has to be burning the Morė, which is traditionally paraded through the streets before being lit on fire. Morė represents winter, and burning her is a sign of vanishing winter. Once lit, people walk around it and sing or chant. (It really looks insane from the outside)

Another tradition is for Kanapinis to fight Lašininis, with the first representing spring and the former, winter. Of course, spring always wins, as tradition, but it’s always fun to watch what pretty much ends up being a wrestling match.

Wearing masks: Lithuanians wear scary or disturbing masks to try and scare away winter. It’s not the most entertaining part of Užgavėnės, but it certainly is interesting.

The food!!!! On Užgavėnės, the most traditional you can get is to eat potato pancakes. A lot of the time and at city celebrations in Lithuania, there will be many people cooking the pancakes at the same time, so there is never a shortage! (They’re best with bacon and sour cream or just sour cream on top 🥰)

In general, people are encouraged to not work and to eat a lot. It’s called “fat Tuesday” for a reason :). We eat many potato pancakes and a lot of meat.

I’ve also noticed that receiving or making a necklace of Baronkos on a string is common, mainly in the US. I’ve never actually participated in an Užgavėnės celebration in Lithuania so there might be minor changes in what they do.

A popular drink, for a change, is Gira, or Kvass. It is a fermented rye bread drink that in my opinion tastes like beer in a way, but has very low alcohol content, meaning that it is non-alcoholic! I personally really enjoy it!

I hope that this brief overview of the holiday provided some information of Užgavėnės and its history, traditions, and customs. If anyone has any other information they’d like to share, please feel welcome to tell me!

I’d love to learn more from the perspectives of people who celebrate it in Lithuania too!!

Sources: (from briefly skimming the internet)

[gmdental]

Smile in a Day Treatment Aftercare Tips

Once you’ve made the decision to opt for smile-in-a-day dental implants as your solution, you’ll likely be eager to gather all the information you can about the procedure and the specifics of the surgery day itself. Taking care of your dental implants is crucial to ensuring their longevity and maintaining your oral health. Let’s delve into the different stages of aftercare for your new implants.

SUITABLE FOOD CHOICES

In the initial days following the procedure, it’s crucial to choose your food wisely. Opt for soft, non-sticky, and non-chewy foods to prevent strain on your implants.

● Soups, smoothies, milkshakes, and juices ● Mashed potatoes ● Scrambled eggs ● Soft meats and fish ● Yogurt and Pudding

IMMEDIATE CARE AFTER ALL-ON-4 TREATMENT

Gentle Oral Rinsing: It’s essential to keep your mouth clean to prevent infection. Gently rinse your mouth with a saltwater solution as advised by your dentist. Avoid vigorous swishing, which could disturb the healing process.

Avoid Touching the Implants: Refrain from touching the implant area with your fingers or tongue. This helps prevent irritation or infection.

Pain Management: If you experience discomfort, your dentist may prescribe pain medication. Follow their instructions carefully.

Hydration and Rest: Drink plenty of water to stay hydrated and aid in the healing process. Ensure you get adequate rest to promote overall recovery.

CARE AFTER ONE WEEK

As you enter the first week of recovery, you can begin introducing slightly more solid foods into your diet. However, still opt for foods that are easy to chew and won’t put unnecessary pressure on your implants.

Oral Hygiene: Gently brush your teeth using a soft-bristle toothbrush. Be cautious around the implant area to avoid irritation.

Mouthwash: Use a mild, alcohol-free mouthwash to rinse your mouth. This helps maintain oral hygiene without causing discomfort.

Avoid Smoking and Alcohol: Both smoking and alcohol can hinder the healing process and increase the risk of complications. It’s best to avoid them during your recovery.

Follow-Up Appointment: Attend any follow-up appointments scheduled by your dentist. This allows them to monitor your progress and address any concerns.

CARE AFTER THE SECOND WEEK

By the second week, you’ll likely be feeling more comfortable. This is a good time to gradually introduce firmer foods into your diet.

Regular Oral Hygiene: Resume your regular oral hygiene routine, including flossing and brushing, while being gentle around the implant area.

Soft Chewing: While you can incorporate more solid foods, continue favoring softer options to prevent strain on the implants.

Stay Diligent: Continue following your dentist’s instructions and maintaining good oral hygiene to promote healing.

CARE AFTER SIX WEEKS

As you approach the six-week mark, your implants should be well on their way to stability. This is a significant milestone in your recovery process.

Expanded Food Options: You can begin to enjoy a wider variety of foods, including those that require more chewing. However, avoid extremely hard or sticky foods.

Professional Cleaning: Schedule a professional dental cleaning. This ensures that your implants and natural teeth remain in optimal condition.

CARE AFTER 12-14 WEEKS

Congratulations, you’re nearing the end of your recovery journey! By this point, your implants should be fully integrated, providing you with a beautiful and functional smile.

Maintain Oral Hygiene: Continue practising excellent oral hygiene, including regular brushing, flossing, and rinsing. This helps prevent any issues in the future.

Regular Dental Visits: Schedule regular check-ups with your dentist to monitor the condition of your implants and overall oral health.

By following these comprehensive aftercare tips, you can maximize the success of your “Smile in a Day” implants and enjoy a confident and healthy smile for years to come.