#v: {livestock}

[lenbryant]

Days, not weeks. Go ahead, Republicans, and let your extremists go wild like this. It will inspire more people to vote in the next election and get rid of them for good.

[piplupod]

i feel like i'm an incredibly annoying person to have over at a house because if there is a pet in the house i will be paying way too much attention to them every time they are in the same room as me. i am unable to be normal about animals existing in the same space as me.

if you have a pet and i know about it, there will be at least 20% of my brain dedicated to thinking about how theres an animal on the property the entire time I am there.

if a cat walks in, i WILL look over at it for a few seconds and not pay any attention to a single thing anyone is saying. if a dog walks in, i WILL be trying to figure out if i can make friends with it in a way that doesn't make everyone roll their eyes at me.

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

in my heart of hearts koyanskya isn’t a manifestation of tunguska but rather chernobyl

[southislandwren]

People attack the dairy industry as if the swine industry isn’t RIGHT THERE

[smarmy-yet-satisfying]

The first should be this judge.

[spooky-kakashi]

i hate you propaganda

[avo-kat]

its soooo scary to think that for most people reddit seems be a very left wing place when its actually super fucking racist and misogynistic

every single time i look into a seemingly innocuous subreddit and always have to leave in shock due to the casual racism and misogyny

and its so fucking horrifying because this is happening on purpose. we are all being manipulated by multiple different groups to hate and fight each other.

i wanna grab ppl that complain about immigrants and equality and gender by their shoulders and ask them who the fuck they think is profiting off of this

because its not us. this is not helping us.

seemingly everything is currently falling apart and living becomes unlivable and yall have no bigger worries than pulling down the crabs trying to escape? get a fucking grip and look at the bucket surrounding you.

we dont gain anything from hate. on the contrary. as long as we are busy hating each other we have no energy and time left to actually confront those who have the power to change things.

we are not suffering because of immigrants. we are suffering because of greedy fucking assholes that are willingly and happily squeezing all of us dry due to some fucking imaginary value system we invented. billionaires are literally stupid fucking f2p players addicted to increasing the number. nothing more.

and this makes me so fucking mad.

we are doing the equivalent to arguing about the best fruit while being literally milked until we break down and perish.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions,  and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

________________________________

“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.” 

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms. 

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3. 

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful. 

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms. 

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected. 

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care. 

It also wore off in 24 hours. 

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans. 

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach. 

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised. 

The other two were different, they had… other urges. 

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data. 

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.” 

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much. 

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long. 

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.” 

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that. 

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?” 

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased. 

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.” 

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost. 

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?” 

He nodded and held his arm out to you. 

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen. 

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.  

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him. 

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped. 

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?” 

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him. 

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms. 

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid. 

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins. 

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip. 

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this- 

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red. 

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him. 

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible. 

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time. 

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut. 

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound. 

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense. 

Almost. 

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this. 

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name. 

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect. 

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. 

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch. 

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret. 

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up. 

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once. 

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum. 

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'. 

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth. 

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist. 

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh. 

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this. 

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating. 

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release. 

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you. 

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off. 

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release. 

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating. 

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest. 

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side. 

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough. 

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second. 

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative. 

It shouldn't take long. 

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes. 

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run. 

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth. 

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work. 

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down. 

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others. 

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful. 

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back. 

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine. 

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick. 

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level. 

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful. 

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him. 

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core. 

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check. 

It doesn’t last long. 

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in. 

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on. 

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts. 

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got. 

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words. 

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper. 

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going. 

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust. 

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end. 

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change. 

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory. 

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down. 

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure. 

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade. 

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before. 

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless. 

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans. 

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you. 

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal. 

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears. 

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength. 

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips. 

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength. 

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements. 

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze. 

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes. 

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either. 

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside. 

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully. 

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control. 

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat. 

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly. 

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip. 

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him. 

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you. 

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat. 

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him. 

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in. 

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight,  his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin. 

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release. 

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily. 

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat. 

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter. 

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin. 

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly. 

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. 

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside. 

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm. 

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves. 

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second. 

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-” 

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs. 

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation. 

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you. 

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw. 

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.” 

.

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns. 

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time. 

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated. 

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down. 

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?” 

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now. 

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin. 

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath. 

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently. 

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?” 

You shake your head. “Happy to help.” 

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair. 

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand. 

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused. 

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.” 

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong. 

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation. 

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close. 

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe. 

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul. 

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.  

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered. 

You frown and shake your head, confused. 

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

[gigabyte-flare]

The Devil is Real (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: You sense there's something not right about Los Iluminados and you're determined to get to the bottom of it.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

Your eyes slowly open to find the sun pouring into the window over by the head of the stairs. You let out a loud yawn as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head before swinging your feet over the side of the bed. Heading downstairs, you find Vince already up and making breakfast. You walk up and stand next to him.

“Anything I can help with?” you ask, leaning in to see what he’s making.

“Nah I’m good,” he replies, playfully shoving you away, “you must have been exhausted. You were already asleep when I got back to the house.”

“The jet lag finally caught up to me as soon as my head hit the pillow,” you explain as you sit at the table, “you spoke to Father Méndez I take it?”

“I did. Hopefully it helps. I don’t want you to feel unwelcome here. I know Leon is just doing his job but… you’re my sister. Making sure you’re comfortable here is my top priority.”

Vince finishes making breakfast, once again bringing two plates to the table before sitting across from me. 

You speak up once more while you’re eating, “so, what’s on the agenda today?”

“I have to help out on the farm, that’s usually what I do most days. You’re more than welcome to join me, but if you don’t, I understand.”

You nod, thinking back to your time spent living with your grandparents. They had lived on a large farm and your grandfather made the two of you do almost all the upkeep. Your brother would take care of the livestock and farm maintenance while you would tend to the garden, it was brutal work for children. Regardless of the unpleasant memories, you weren’t about to sit back and let your brother do all the work.

“Sure, I’ll help out, just let me know what needs to be done.”

Within the hour, the two of you had made your way to the farm. It is a ways away from the village, requiring another short hike to get there. Once getting there, Vince is tasked with repairing some of the farm equipment while you helped feed and groom some of the livestock. You’re in the middle of wrangling up the pigs to feed them when out of the corner of your eye, you see someone approach your brother. You recognize the cargo pants and the tight fitting black athletic t-shirt immediately and that can only mean one thing:

It’s Leon.

You avert your eyes, bringing your focus back to pouring the feed into the trough, however, you steal quick glances at Leon and your brother as they speak to each other. Leon has short blonde hair and obviously takes very good care of himself; even you could see the way the sleeve of his t-shirt forms over his biceps.

“Hey Sis, come ‘ere!” Vince calls, beckoning you to join him with a motion of his hand.

You put down the bag of feed, silently cursing to yourself before walking over, standing close to your brother when you approach. Now that Leon isn’t wearing that black cloak he had on yesterday, you’re able to get a better look at him and, holy hell, were you not prepared. Leon is incredibly handsome, easily the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on. You found yourself unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your eyes rake over him; taking in the way the straps of his gun harness and various belts hug his thighs, how his pectoral muscles strain against that tight shirt. And, of course, those gorgeous blue eyes.

Oh no… you think to yourself, he’s hot…

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable yesterday,” Leon begins as he holds out his gloved hand; you don’t hesitate to shake it, “I’m Leon Kennedy; I’m in charge of making sure the community is a safe place for everyone.”

His voice is as smooth as whiskey, causing your heart to race in your chest as you tell him your name, “it’s very nice to meet you Leon.”

Leon gives you a half smile which makes your heart swoon; this man is way too attractive for his own good. He must realize it because he gives you a playful wink which, thankfully, your brother missed. 

“Likewise,” Leon continues, giving your hand one more squeeze before letting go and looking to your brother “I also came over because Manuel just came in with a haul of fish from the lake, he needs help unloading the boat.”

“Of course, I’ll be right over,” Vince replies, setting down his tools.

“Is it alright if I come along?” you ask, shoving your hands in your pockets as you shift on your feet.

“Yeah of course,” Vince replies, “the dock isn’t far from here; I’d love for you to come see the lake.”

Just as your brother walks away to go to the dock, Leon gives you a pat on the side of your shoulder, giving you another playful wink as he whispers, “I’ll see you around, little bird.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch Leon walk away. The nickname he had given you goes straight to your core, causing you to clench your hands as your fingers tingle.

“Sis, are you coming or not?” Vince calls out to you some ways away from the archway leading out of the farm.

“Sorry Vince! I’m coming!” you shout as you jog over to your brother, joining him as you both make your way to the lake.

By the time you two get to the dock, several other men from the village are also there helping Manuel unload the haul from his fishing trip. Vince quickly joins them as you stand at the head of the dock. As your eyes scan over the vast lake, the sights, sounds and smells once again take you back to your childhood. To the times when you and your brother would go down to a small pond that was on your grandparents’ property to have some semblance of fun. The sound of a door opening behind you causes you to draw your attention away from the lake. 

You watch two men come out of what you can only assume is Manuel’s house carrying what appears to be a very large sack. Your gaze tracks them as they walk across the property, stopping at a cave opening that’s blocked off by a large gate. They stop at the gate as one of them goes to unlock the gate. You quickly realize that the large sack is moving violently. Once they get the gate open, they carry the sack inside, shutting and locking it behind them before disappearing into the darkness of the cave. You swallow hard as you draw your attention back to the lake, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

Something is very wrong about this place and you feel whatever it is, it’s behind that gate.

“Will you be ok here at the house tonight?” Vince asks over dinner.

“Yeah, why?” you ask as you take a bite out of your meal.

“We have a community gathering tonight. It will likely go well into the night. I just want to make sure you’ll be ok here by yourself.”

You look up at Vince, raising an eyebrow, “I can’t come with you?”

Vince shakes his head, “not this time. This is for members of the Los Iluminados community only.”

This only serves to unsettle you even more, especially after seeing that large sack get brought into that cave earlier that day. Not wanting to upset your brother, however, you simply swallow hard and shrug it off.

“No problem, I’ll be fine, Vince.”

“Good, thank you Sis.”

Your brother leaves the house after cleaning up, leaving you alone in the house. You take that opportunity to go up to the bedroom, settling yourself onto the bed. As you lay there, your mind wanders back to Leon and you find yourself quickly becoming hot and bothered. Taking off your jeans so that you’re just in your shirt and underwear, your hand slips under the hem of your panties, your fingers gently rubbing your clit as you lay your head back against the pillow, closing your eyes. You picture Leon perfectly, imagining it is his fingers rubbing your clit, imagining his hot breath on your ear as he leans over you.

“That’s it, little bird. Doesn’t that feel good?”

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you hear the words your mind has conjured; who would have thought a silly nickname would get you so riled up. You pick up the pace of your fingers, your hips bucking up into your hand as you chase your release. You softly moan his name over and over as your pussy walls clench around nothing, secretly wishing he was buried inside you. You then move your fingers in a circular motion rapidly and within minutes you come undone, practically screaming Leon’s name as your body convulses. In the heat of the moment, your elbow crashes into the small bedside table, causing it to tip over, causing the contents of a small drawer to spill all over the floor.

The abrupt crash immediately snaps you out of your fantasy. You sit up in the bed and stand up, picking up the items that had fallen out of the bedside table. A crudely made leather bound book catches your attention; you sit down onto the side of the bed and open it. The text inside is handwritten and you quickly realize once you start reading it that it’s your brother’s journal. You know you shouldn’t be reading it, but a part of you is hoping that it reveals what exactly is going on in this community. 

March? 2006

I’ve completely lost track of time since Josh and I were brought here. I found this notebook inside the building they brought us in, so I figured I’d use it to chronicle what’s been going on in case someone else finds it. It was Josh’s idea to go backpacking across Europe. I regret not telling my sister where I was going; she must be worried sick! 

This group, called Los Iluminados, promised us a paradise on Earth. A place for us to disconnect from the world and detox and it doesn’t take a genius to know I definitely need that. They didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Josh is my boyfriend despite being a religious group, so that was refreshing.

You stop reading for a moment, absorbing the information you just learned. Your brother is gay. It came as a complete shock to you, however upon looking back, it’s a wonder you hadn’t realized it sooner. It certainly explains why your grandfather was especially hard on Vince. Why didn’t he tell you? You can’t help but feel hurt by the fact your brother wasn’t comfortable enough telling you. You set aside these emotions for the time being and continue to read.

They injected both of us with something, said it would help us with the detox process. And then they brought us into the basement of one of the houses. It’s almost pitch black down here, the only indication of time passing is from the faint streaks of light coming down from the floorboards. It’s a miracle I can even see what I’m writing. I feel ok, but Josh on the other hand isn’t looking good at all. He’s broken out into a rash and he won’t stop sweating. He keeps saying everything hurts. What the fuck did they inject us with?

March… Maybe April? 2006

It’s been a few days since they first locked us into this basement. I keep coughing up blood and having weird dreams, but otherwise I don’t feel too bad. Josh on the other hand isn’t doing well at all, he’s been violently convulsing and hacking up way more blood than I have. I don’t think he’s going to make it.

April 2006

They came down into the basement and took Josh, he had gotten worse from when I had written earlier. They came back later and examined my eyes, saying my blood had accepted the gift, whatever that means. They led me out of the basement and gave me one of the houses. They say I’m part of the community now. I don’t know what happened to Josh.

There are no new entries in the journal after that. You’re completely overwhelmed with emotions, both from what you learned about your brother and the implications of what happened to his boyfriend Josh. All of this just further cemented the fact that you had to find out what lies beyond that gate you saw them bring that sack into.

After picking up the mess and tucking the journal safely back inside the bedside table, you go to bed where your mind enters the realm of dreams which have been invaded by thoughts of Leon.

The next morning, your brother informs you that the two of you will be going over to Father Méndez’s house to have dinner. The house itself is grandiose, we’re immediately greeted with the large dining room table already laid out with food and drinks. The dinner itself is largely uneventful, Father Méndez asks you a lot of questions about living in the United States and how you’re liking your stay with the community. As the dinner wears on, you realize that this is a golden opportunity to try to find some answers. 

You abruptly stand up, “sorry I need to excuse myself for a moment. Where’s the bathroom, Father?”

Father Méndez motions to the archway over to the left, “through there, sweetheart.”

You smile at him and nod in acknowledgement, “thank you Father, if you excuse me…”

You walk through the archway, finding a set of stairs going up to the second floor of the house. You look over at the dinner table, waiting until Father Méndez is completely focused on your brother before silently ascending the stairs. At the top is another hallway. You carefully walk to the end of it, finding what you guess is the master bedroom, a large four poster bed immediately to your right, a dresser to the left and a small desk next to the window ahead of you.

You slowly walk up to the desk, which is covered in various papers that have words written in Spanish on them. You then open up one of the drawers and you suck in a breath at what you find. It’s an ornate key, embellished with the same weird cross symbol that you saw back at the church and, now that you think about it, the gate by the dock also had this same symbol. This key has to go to that gate, you’re sure of it. You softly close the drawer, tucking the key into your pocket.

“What are you doing in here?” you hear Father Méndez ask.

You jump as you turn around, placing your hand over your racing heart, “Father I’m so sorry! I got lost looking for the bathroom.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but then smiles at you warmly, “that’s quite alright, I wasn’t clear in my direction. It’s downstairs, the door on the right just before the back door, follow me and I can show you.”

You allow Father Méndez to lead you to the bathroom, which is quite literally a hole in a raised part of the floor. The smell coming out of it almost knocks you out. Despite this, you spend a couple minutes in there to make it convincing before you return to the dinner table, all the while fiddling with the key in your pocket.

You and your brother finish up dinner with Father Méndez, getting back home just before it gets dark. You excuse yourself and go to bed early, claiming to be exhausted from socializing. You sit on the side of the bed, twirling the key you found in your fingers as you examine it as you listen for confirmation that your brother is asleep. It takes a couple hours, but you hear the telltale signs of your brother’s snoring. Getting up from the bed, you walk over to the window over by the stairs, carefully opening it and climbing out. It leads you outside on some crude scaffolding, you quickly find a ladder to climb down. 

The waxing moon casts a gentle glow throughout the village, which you use to your advantage as you make your way to the dock area. You walk crouched, trying to use the environment to mask your movements, hoping to not draw anyone’s attention. You eventually make it to the gate, looking around before digging the key out of your pocket, putting it into the keyhole and turning. As you suspected, the key unlocks the gate with ease and you push on it gently, the gate letting out a soft squeak as it swings open. You shut the gate behind you, making your way inside the cave. 

Once you get to the back of the cave, you come across another gate, pushing it open to find a furnished room filled with various root vegetables and supplies. Upon stepping in, you’re overwhelmed by the smell of decay, bringing your shirt up over your nose to mask the smell. It doesn’t take long for you to find the source. To your right, there is a person on their knees, held up by their wrists on a rope. You hesitantly approach, finding that it’s a young woman, her skin pitch black in decay and that weird cross symbol painted on her face with blood. You fight back the bile building up in your mouth.

“I fucking knew it,” you say to yourself, “this is a fucking cult.”

You take another look around, spotting a ladder leading upwards through the floor in the back. You hesitantly approach it and begin climbing up. As you ascend to the top, you are greeted by another horror; an altar with another young woman laid onto it, her blood completely covering it. You see her hands are tied behind her back. You walk around the altar to face her. She has that same symbol painted onto her face. Her skin still has color to it, suggesting that she hasn’t been dead for very long. You begin to suspect that this woman was in that sack that you saw carried into the cave. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hear Father Méndez’s voice boom from behind you.

You spin around and face him, he’s standing straight with his hands neatly folded in front of him.

“What the hell kind of operation do you have here?!” you shout, balling your fists, “I knew something wasn’t right about this place. I’m taking my brother, we’re leaving and reporting you to the authorities!”

A low chuckle comes out of Father Méndez, “her blood did not accept the gift. You, however, may have better luck.”

Méndez brings one hand up, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, two men that had been standing behind you grab you by your arms, twisting them behind your back as you struggle as hard as you can. You watch as Father Méndez reaches into his coat pocket, producing a large hypodermic needle. As you struggle, Father Méndez begins to approach you. Your gaze shifts to the figure standing just behind him, seeing that Leon is standing there, watching, back to wearing that large black cloak, the hood mostly obscuring his face. All you can see is a menacing smirk that is on his lips. 

“Sis calm down, it’s going to be ok!” you hear your brother, quickly realizing he is one of the men that is restraining you, “my blood accepted the gift, I’m certain yours will, too.”

“Vince!” you cry out, turning to him, “do you hear yourself? This is insane!”

Father Méndez looms in front of you, grabbing the side of your head and pushing it to expose your neck, wasting no time inserting the needle into your skin, injecting the strange liquid into your body. Whatever it is, it burns. You feel it spread across your neck as you continue to struggle, tears now flowing down your face. 

“Bring her to the holding area,” Father Méndez commands.

Without any hesitation, your brother and the man helping to restrain you bring you back down through the hole you had come up out of, carrying you out of the cave as you kick and scream. They bring you to Manuel’s house, carrying you inside. In the back of the house, there is a trap door. The other man retraining you kicks the trap door open before he and your brother gently lower you inside. Once on the ground, you scramble to your feet and stare up at the opening, seeing your brother stare down at you, only, there’s something very off about him. Black veins cover his skin and his eyes are glowing red.

“Vince, you can’t do this! You need to get me out of here!”

“I’m sorry, Sis,” he says softly before slamming the trap door shut. 

You stand there in utter shock as you hear the door being locked, trapping you in the pitch black darkness.

Part 3

[baddywronglegs]

England doesn’t have a North-South divide. But if it did have one, Cornwall would be in the North.

Now I’m not saying there isn’t a big geographical divide between like, Manchester and Canterbury, or that the country’s a homogeneous patchwork, what I’m saying is this divide isn’t north-south and thinking about it as such masks a lot of things.

Oh, and I am, for necessity of discussing this divide, going to be ignoring the Midlands. I hope you forgive me ignoring the deep cultural ties between Birmingham and Rutland.

Map Men made a video about the North-South divide in England (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENeCYwms-Cc&ab_channel=JayForeman), which focused on the line determined by Danny Dorling in 2008.

… Which isn’t a north-south divide. It’s a northwest-southeast divide, going up at more than 45 degrees – it’s more an east-west divide than it is a north-south. It also includes Wales in “the North” but we’ll get to that.

But it was a north-south divide he set out to find, so a north-south divide he sort of drew, excluding exclaves and enclaves where the metrics he was looking at would make that not a north-south divide.

Notably, several would seem to put the west country peninsula in “the North”… So what’s up with that?

(Dorling's full paper is here, and I recommend looking through the whole thing to see how he arrived at the divide he eventually concluded: https://www.dannydorling.org/wp-content/files/dannydorling_publication_id2938.pdf)

Anyway. This is what’s up with that:

This is a geological map of Great Britain (and the Isle of Man, which isn’t actually part of the UK or any of its constituent countries but I guess it’s here anyway.)

Here again, in the boundary between Jurassic and Triassic geology, is that diagonal line from the Humber to the Severn, but continuing past both. For convenience, here are those two lines superimposed on one another.

With Danny Dorling’s line (frequently following county boundaries or other administrative boundaries) in blue, and the geological divide in red.

One line was drawn in 2008, the other has existed over 200 million years.

This isn’t a coincidence – it’s the reason for the divide.

What made “the North” is the industrial revolution. And one thing that drove the industrial revolution was the mines: coal, iron, silver, tin, the rocks beneath our feet and the people who dreamed they were worth more than the people they sent into the dark to bring it into the light.

Towns grew around mines, from Walker to South Crofty, and more than just the mines defining them, it was the mines closing that would cement the divide.

“Byker Hill and Walker Shore, collier lads forever more”

“Cornish lads are fishermen and Cornish lads are miners too”

- Two folk songs about regional identity’s roots in its industry, from opposite ends of this dividing line

In the West Midlands, the Black Country didn’t earn that name with caviar; it, like Manchester and Leeds, reinvented itself when the industry collapsed: cities built in the brick ruins of the temples built to the exploitation of the workers, blackened by the smokes of the cremation of its labour industry. When the light catches the steel and glass just right, you can still see the ghosts.

Even the country life outside the cities is shaped by this geology: the terrain north-west of this line doesn’t lend itself to large, flat expanses of land for arable farming, and the divide is visible again when looking at agriculture:

With the majority of land south of the Jurassic-Triassic line being arable, mixed and market gardening, with a fair amount of cattle in the Cotswolds and Chilterns and along the north side of the Thames, and the majority north-west of it being cattle and sheep – which are almost absent from the south side of the divide with the exception of the Isle of Wight and therefore, ironically, Cowes.

Not all farming is the same, the yearly flow of labour and of marketable goods between livestock and arable having little in common beyond being intensive work out-of-doors and taking huge amounts of land to accomplish.

But one thing that also goes hand in hand with this is that sheep aren’t mostly farmed for their meat but for their wool, and what drove industrialisation in the Pennines was the steam-loom: the mechanisation and mass-production of wool.

(Incidentally, on this map arable farming and market gardening also correlate with several types of English traditional dance: Molly, Border an East Midlands and East Riding plough dances, which began as a way for seasonal farmhands to make ends meet by busking with menaces in the winter off-season, but that’s for a later Morris ramble).

But hang on, that puts Hull on the same side of the divide as Kent, not, for example, Liverpool. So what gives there?

The East Riding isn’t built on mining - a kid with a bucket and spade could find the water table in most of the county.

Hull, and other ports of Yorkshire with it, was built on whaling – and not many industries have collapsed harder than whaling. For once, the geography of the land has little impact on this, but the geography of the sea does:

Between England and the European continent is a shallower stretch of sea called Dogger Bank – named for the Dutch cod-fishing boats known as Doggers which fished on it. But shallow water isn’t great for whales. So where is there water good for whales?

Well, whalers from Great Britain would venture as far as the Antarctic ocean in search of whales, and often hunted off Greenland – but there was water closer to home where whales did and still do frequent:

(There is still whaling in the North Sea. Around 500 minke whales are killed by Norwegian whalers each year “in objection to” the global ban on commercial whaling.)

Outside of this, there’s also a divide between port cities dealing primarily in cargo or primarily in passengers, something which is somewhat evening out by one means or another, but here’s a current map of UK passenger ports and their passenger numbers:

Or at least circles sized to correspond to their passenger numbers - source with stats: https://www.gov.uk/government/statistics/sea-passenger-statistics-all-routes-2021/sea-passenger-statistics-all-routes-2021

Compare this with a map of cargo ports by load:

Source with numbers: https://safety4sea.com/uk-ports-record-steady-performance-during-2018/

Generally showing passenger numbers getting lower the further you get from Dover, but not the same correlation with cargo (Plymouth and Holyhead both bucking this trend at a glance).

So, if not “The North” and “The South”, what name does make sense for this divide?

I propose “the South” be known as Lloegyr.

These names still exist: Domnonea still exists in Brittany both as a name for that same region from which Brittonic settlers came to Brittany and an area of Brittany named for them, and in Welsh, yr Alban is Scotland, Cymru is Wales and Lloegr is England.

Wales isn’t part of “the North”. “The North” is part of Wales.

[kiwichaeng]

Pakistan is drowning, and we need help

Since July of this year, Pakistan has been affected by heavy nonstop monsoons and is yet to stop. It is only getting worse. Rural areas in Balochistan, Sindh, KPK, Punjab and Gilgit Baltistan are the most affected.

As of September 4th, over 1300 people have died and over 500,000 homes have been destroyed along with livestock deaths and ruined infrastructure. The floods have left more than 33 million people affected.

Most of Balochistan is still submerged. Locals are forced to flee and cannot account for their missing relatives until much later. More than 100 districts all across the provinces have been impacted.

Quetta, a major city of Balochistan, has been cut off from the rest of the country as the roads and highways are destroyed.

We get monsoons every year and we are used to them but this is not normal. We are in our 8th monsoon cycle when we usually get 3-4 cycles.

Two of the worst-hit provinces – Balochistan and Sindh – have received 298mm and 689mm rains respectively this year, which is about 400 percent more than the 30-year average. (c)

Along with the floods, there are also landslides and glacier bursts that have claimed lives and made the situation worse.

People from other cities were unable to get in contact with their affected relatives because they did not have electricity. The cloud cover meant no solar power either.

There are more monsoon predictions till September. I don't know how we're going to come back from this.

This is worse than the 2010 floods and the government doesn't give a shit.

This is going to have disastrous impacts on our economy and society but what does it matter? after all, the people are only there to vote, right? :)

It is the volunteers and NGOs helping, it is the public. There was no help when Karachi flooded and people died and they don't care now either.

Here are some links for donations if you can.

Al-Khidmat ways to donate (for international)

Al-Huda

Edhi Foundation

Some GoFundMes

....

....

....

....

Sites to educate yourself more on this

1)

2)

3)

Climate change is very real and I am terrified right now.

tagging some people for signal boost @khaleesiofalicante @binch-i-might-be @gayforcarstairsgirls @all-the-cool-ones-are-gone @elettralightwood @rinadragomir @magnus-the-maqnificent @sociallyineptbibliophile @dumb-ass-biatch @noah-herondale-lightwood @steven--with-a-v

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Unbridled Instincts

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: There is a time to wait and a time to act. You and Walter fuck around and find out what time it is.

Warnings: masturbation (f), slight voyeurism, oral sex (f receiving), slight brat taming (if you squint), hint of choking, monster fucking, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mentions of ovulation, biting, knotting, breeding kink

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. Without her help, this chapter would have been a complete fucking nightmare. I adore you, Peyton!!!

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

But your brain goes back to this morning. Walter’s arms around you. His scent is fresh on you. If you could keep extra quiet, you’re sure you can crank one out without waking the beast downstairs.

Right?

At first, it’s the temperature. The fever from a fast-healing wound. Plus the warmth from being near a potential mate. He sheds his clothing during the night. Eventually, he has to remove his boxer briefs, as the material is just too tight on his sweat-soaked skin.

Then, it’s the hint of sweat as he inhales. The sweet, tangy taste of it clouds his nostrils causing him to stir in his slumber. 

Next, the overwhelming lure of arousal that pheromones release like tentacles attaching themselves to him. 

Lastly, the sound of a rising heart rate pounds in his ears. It all screams your name.

Opening his eyes, he gets his bearings on where he is. A living room. Pup’s. 

Whimpering from your bedroom catching him by surprise, he isn’t able to stop himself from shifting. 

His hands grow longer with claws, dense fur, and thick, black padding on his palms. His legs and feet contort and reshape into the hind legs of a wolf. A fluffy tail pushes its way down and out of his spine. His broad chest is covered in the same dark chocolate pelt, the color of his human hair. Arms fill out with hairy musculature. His nose and mouth form a small snout and his teeth sharpen and elongate. His beard and hair grow a bit wilder around his ears now resemble those of a wolf high on his head, completing his transformation.

Once he hears you whimper again, he springs over the back of the couch, lands on his hind legs, and bounds up the stairs taking them two at a time. He sniffs the air as he gets closer to your bedroom door. He can smell it as plain as day.

You’re aroused. And when you whisper his name, the heavy weight between his legs becomes harder to ignore. Reaching a hand down, he squeezes the base of his veiny, mammoth cock near his knot. The bright red tip is already leaking, and his swinging balls yearn to be emptied.

His slow steps, punctuated with claws against the wood floor, finally reach your door. Wasting no time, he swings the door open, catching you with your fingers in your pussy and your nightgown around your tits.

Somehow you don’t hear or see him come into the room, so wrapped up in chasing your orgasm. He uses your ignorance of your surroundings to his advantage and walks to the side of your bed. Looking over your body, his instincts take over. He sniffs the surrounding air, sensing that you are ovulating and ready to be bred. You had the perfect body to carry strong pups.

He could see it already, your full tits and round belly with a kid on your hip and one running around you. He would keep you nice and pregnant as much as you could stand it. 

“Walter, eat my pussy...please, I’ve been a good girl,” you murmur, eyes still closed while your finger circles and teases your clit.

A deep rumble in the room alerts you, the growl from deep in Walter’s chest sending a chill up your spine. You look up at him covered in fur and larger than before and your first thought isn’t to scream or hide your body. Giving in to his natural sexiness, you want nothing more than to worship him.

Turning on the bed so that your cunt is facing him, you beg him, “Please, Walter?” Every thought about waiting is long gone from your head.

Within seconds, Walter is on his knees at the edge of the bed while his mauve tongue hungrily hangs out of his muzzle. His hands hold your legs out of the way so that his nose can ghost over your folds. Inhaling its wet arousal, exhaling warm air from his lungs across your most sensitive parts. 

When you reach a hand to the top of his head, his eyes close momentarily as he pushes into your palm. Once you scratch at his ear, he lets out a groan deeply from his chest again, he picks his head up slightly to lick from your delicate petals to your swollen nub. 

While he uses his tongue to explore your cavernous deep, his thumb rubs against your clit. Tongue brought to a point, where he strokes inside you, and he finally attacks your inner bundle of nerves. You watch as he gently cups your mound. 

Withdrawing his tongue, he licks at his maw. He picks up the pace of his thumb on your clit. Your mewls, piercing his ears and wrapping around his heart. He stands to lick at your neck’s pulse point, nipping and whimpering into your skin. 

One hand caresses you leaving the other to explore other places. His giant paw finds your neck, squeezing slightly while you stare into his glowing eyes. He seems to be willing you over the edge, his stare forcing your body closer to completion.

“Come. For me,” he forces out, the words sounding distorted in this body.

And that is the little push you need. Along with the paw gripping your neck, the tongue lapping at your skin, the finger flicking your bean, and the command in that gravelly rasp. The longing in those words is too much for your resolve to hold even a moment longer.

“Walter,” his name a breathless whisper on your lips as your climax takes you over.

Your eyes roll into your head as your back arches. Hands rushing out to his, one at your throat and the other stilling on your clit. Your walls twitch and flex around nothing, pushing your sweet nectar out of your hole.

You watch as he collects your wetness and brings his sticky palm to wrap around the leaking, red erection that now has your attention. Its shiny surface has you wanting to lick it like a lollipop and Walter watches as you wet your lips in anticipation. But it’s far too sensitive for that kind of attention right now.

Instead, Walter gets on the bed between your legs. He raises your ankles to place them on his shoulders, leaning forward, so his face is inches from yours. You’re being folded like a pretzel and you couldn’t be happier as you feel the pointy tip of his cock teasing through your lips. 

It slides up and down from your clit to your hole over and over, as if he doesn’t want to give you what you crave most. You’re so close to the edge, if he doesn’t push inside you in the next few seconds, you are going to scream!

He rips the nightgown from your body, not that it covers you in any way. He didn’t want to leave anything between you. No clothing, no barriers, just your bodies and whatever sounds you made together.

It is then that he pushes himself inside you, slowly, inch by inch. He works himself into your walls, letting you adjust to the shape and size. So kind of him to take you apart with the speed of a snail. Once he is seated inside you as fully as this position will allow, he grabs both hands and holds them in one paw above your head. You nod, silently pleading for him to move.

“Make you mine,” he promises, the hefty growl reverberating through your chest. His hips retract and come back to meet yours, his canine cock filling you to the brim. 

“Wanna be all yours, Walter. Please,” you breathe, ready to be fucked open by him.

The answering groan is all you get before Walter is snapping his hips back and forth inside you. With your arms unable to move, you instead try to move your legs down off his shoulder to wrap around his waist. He gets the hint soon enough, only slowing down slightly, then returning to a punishing pace when your heels are digging into his ass.

He shifts his angle a bit to hover his face above yours as he leans forward. When he slides home, he can bump against your clit. Grinding his pelvis against yours, he easily brings forth your next orgasm, he is not surprised when the base of his cock is nice and wet from your eruption. He pulls out after fucking you through your orgasm.

Sitting back on his heels, one hand slowly stroking his length, he looks down at you. Blissfully fucked out, almost asleep, cock-drunk. Too bad for you, he’s not done. Before you can register what’s happening, Walter is turning you on your stomach and putting a pillow under your hips. Straddling you, he enters you smoothly, your walls molding to him. He lays his chest against your back, both arms enfolding you. One around your waist while the other hand wraps around your neck.

“Mine,” he whispers, lips snarling next to your ear, “Say it, Pup.” He only grinds his hips against yours, not fully fucking you yet.

“Yours,” you huffed, trying to find your voice with the weight of him bearing down on you.

“Louder. Can’t hear you,” he demands, he begins tugging his hips back slowly only to push in even slower.

“Yours! I’m yours...Wolfie,” you hum, holding in your bratty laugh for all of three seconds until it’s cut off when Walter tightens his grip on you. 

He widens his legs on either side of yours, his toes digging into the mattress for leverage. From this angle, he can fuck right into your sweet spot while his heavy, full balls swing back and forth into your clit.

Your squeaks and moans punctuate each thrust, and it’s music to Walter’s sensitive ears. Your groans and squeals cause his ears to twitch, your elevated heart rate lets him know he’s doing all the right things. 

And he certainly is doing all the right things.

It almost wasn’t fair that your first time with him was in wolf form. But as good as this feels, you just feel like human sex may end up a bit lackluster. Which is not what you should be thinking right now with him turning your insides to mincemeat.

He must sense that you were getting distracted, growling lowly in your ear. Dragging his wet nose along your neck, he inhales deeply. He unhurriedly licks at the sweat dripping from behind your ear, his tongue trailing up around the lobe and shell.

His hips start to stutter, and whines in the back of his throat are forced out. You can feel the sudden fullness of his cock as he pushes in even deeper than before. His tip is pressing into your cervix and the pressure is almost too much. As you feel his length twitch, warm jets of cum paint your walls. 

He growls again and bites the nape of your neck, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still while his knot settles in place. It felt like a plug just inflated inside you and you feel the fullest you’ve ever been. You try to reach your arms back to grab at him in any way you can. Feeling held in place at two points of contact was just too much.

You try curling inward to relieve the pressure in your pussy, but Walter painfully wails and bites down on your neck harder. You realize both you and Walter are in pain with his knot stuck inside you. 

You take a second to get yourself together. Getting your breathing under control, you can calm down Walter enough to slow the blood flow rushing toward his knot. When he releases your neck, he licks and soothes at the marks left behind.

Once he can slip out of you, he unhooks his arms from around you. His hands hold you open, so he can see if he hurt you. You’re more than flattered when he licks over your fucked-out little hole, but you push him away once he goes for your still-sensitive nub. 

“Too much,” you mumble, rolling over and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Walter moves to follow you, but you push him back to lie down. “I’m ok, Wolfie. Just going to the bathroom to freshen up. You stay in bed and keep it warm for me.” 

You watch as his brows grow concerned, but he pulls up the comforter over himself and your side of the bed. You thank him and head to use the bathroom. While you sit and relieve yourself, you think about how aroused you were for Walter. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You haven’t had an attraction like that in ages, if ever. Likewise, you didn’t necessarily plan on having him cum inside you, but once it was an option, you didn’t exactly stop him from pushing deeper inside you.

And then there was the knot. Granted, you had done some research on werewolf anatomy, so you weren’t surprised by the knot. But the length of time it was in you, how big it was, that wasn’t in any of the articles you had stumbled upon. 

Also not mentioned? The hyperspermia, which could just be a Walter thing, but it seems like a wolf thing too. You felt so full of his cum and you had already pushed out so much of it. You will be surprised if he doesn’t get you pregnant, and you don’t know what it means when that only brings a smile to your face. What the hell…

Yeah, you might have it bad for this man. 

Or you’re flying high on the level of dopamine coursing through your veins from the number of orgasms Walter has given you.

They can both be true at the same time. 

You realize you’ve been in the bathroom for quite some time, and your legs start to grow numb. You wipe, flush, and stand on wobbly legs to wash your hands. Splashing water on your face, you steady your nerves to go back and be with the wolf that fucked you silly.

You open the door, turn to shut off the light and walk right into Walter. Standing outside the door with his hand raised, ready to knock and check on you.

The oof that escapes your lips compels strong hands to your biceps to steady you on your feet. The feel of bare human skin on yours is comforting and familiar. You look up and notice the frown on Walter’s face, knitted brows sit above fretful aquamarine eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his human face now back in place along with the rest of his body.

“Oh, that? I’m fine. Just need to watch where I’m walking,” you smile, trying to reassure Walter’s concern.

“I meant, more along the lines of whether you’re hurt. It’s just, I have this pull. This...intuition. All I want to do is take care of you. It’s all I can think about,” he confesses, sliding his hands down your arms to grab your hands, “Would you let me look you over just so I can see you’re alright?”

You open your mouth to tell him you feel amazing, but you close it just quickly. He wants to make sure he doesn't go too far, and you respect that. If you think about it, it’s possibly the hottest bit of aftercare you could ever have.

You nod, welcoming his assessment. He moves you more into the bathroom and turns on the light again. He examines your wrists, but seeing a bit of redness doesn’t alarm him. Inspecting your neck where his teeth sank into you, he’s delighted to not see any broken skin, but there will be heavy bruising there if you don’t apply ice to it soon enough. Thankfully, your clothing should cover up most of the area.

Seeing his heartsick eyes look over your neck in the mirror causes you to turn around and hold his face in both hands. His hands come up to cradle yours, your eyes finally grabbing his attention.

“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I can hear the gears turning, Wolfie,” you plead, hoping that he will illuminate you with his thoughts.

He sighs, and you can tell he doesn’t want to worry you. You can also tell he’s becoming weak to your suggestions, seemingly wanting to do whatever pleases you.  

“Need to get ice for your neck, or it’ll bruise,” he mutters, looking down before continuing, “We haven’t known each other long and I already feel protective over you. Hearing your breathing, recognizing your scent. It felt like you were in danger, and I shifted. Then, seeing you...like that, I needed to claim you. I haven’t felt that in so long, it’s like I’d forgotten the intensity that comes along with it. My wolf brain took over and instinctually, my body reacted the only way it knew how.”

“What do you mean?” you breathe, your brows scrunching together.

“I could smell that you were ovulating and all I wanted, all I could think of, was to breed you. The fact that I didn’t give you a choice...it weighs heavily on me,” he admits, taking a deep breath before starting again, “I shouldn’t have taken that from you. I would understand if you never want to see me again after that.”

The distraught look on his face makes you believe that he thinks the worst of himself. That only makes you want to fight whatever demons put that thought into his head.

“I’ll be honest, I did intend on waiting a little longer before taking things further. But, there is something about you. Probably sounds weird, but I have a pull toward you too. Like, this invisible string that’s tied around my rib cage, and every time I’m near you, I feel it tugging. I feel the urge to touch you, to feel your skin on mine,” you confess, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders knowing that you both were struggling with staying away from each other.

“So, we both feel this connection. What do we do now? What can I do for you?” he prods, his hands moving to your sides as yours weave in his curls.

“Well, the good news is that we don’t need to figure this all out right now. We know how we feel about each other, and that’s most important. So, for now, we can do one thing,” you offer, a smile playing on your lips.

“And what’s that, Pup?” he wonders aloud, thumbs pressing into your hips.

Foregoing speaking, you stand up on tiptoes to press your lips against Walter’s. A chaste kiss or two gives way to open mouths and tongues getting into the mix. You hum into his mouth, and he answers with a groan. The grip on your hips tightens and his length grows against your thigh. 

You feel him dip to grab and lift you under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him. When he breaks from the kiss, his nose nuzzles your cheek and neck as he inhales your potent scent of arousal. He turns to shut out the light before exiting the bathroom and taking you back into the bedroom.

Laying you down, he hovers over you and smiles lazily down at you. When he doesn’t say anything for a beat, you roll your eyes and sigh.

“What are you smiling at, Wolfie?” you tease, secretly loving how he looks at you like you hung the moon.

He opens his mouth to answer, but instead, he nudges your nose with his before peppering a trail of kisses over your cheek, chin, and neck. Using one hand to position himself at your opening, he collects some of your moisture to help slide in. Slowly, agonizingly he enters you. 

Once seated inside, he grinds his hips against yours. He wants to take it slow this time. You want nothing more than to give yourself to him in any way you can. Everything else can wait until the morning.

To be continued...

A/N: Ok, so about that whole ‘let’s wait’ thing...um, I got this idea in my head that this is where this would all happen. And Reader and Walter didn’t seem upset about it so, yeah.

(Also, if you are upset about fictional characters not using protection, please use that anger and either register to vote in the next election or contact your state representative to see how you can help make sure safe sex education can be taught in schools in your area. Didn't think you would get political advice in this author's note, didja??)

A/N 2: Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a wonderful day!!

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[wing-ed-thing]

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part VI

Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including physical child abuse, violence, and non-con elements. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

Notes: IT IS HERE! YES! i purposefully make it long and full of drama to make up for the amount of times I pushed the release back. I also put a lot of my own thoughts in the end author’s notes so please enjoy! I most definitely could not have written this content a year ago let me tell you—

The memory of you struck him like lightning, electrocuting him to his core with panic and disgust. He revoked his touch from you as you began to sit up on the riverbank in acute panic. 

He just stared at you. Tobirama had no idea how he remembered you, yet he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. Yes, you were older, but as he considered the shape of your face, he could see the unmistakable look from the forest back then. You had the same nose, such a familiar laugh, and your eyes… even without your sharingan.

He had thought of you as a foul creature. 

That morning when he first saw you in the woods. 

Tobirama had come home much earlier that day in defeat. He hadn’t wanted to stay and train after his encounter with you. He tried to continue, to find another spot to collect himself, but he ultimately couldn’t help but feel that you were still there, watching him. Knowing an Uchiha lurked around in the woods, it was probably best that he didn’t go off alone for his safety.

He remembered how his father stormed toward him when he returned to the compound. Butsuma’s jaw was clenched as tightly as ever, battle-toned arms swinging with each step of his furious gait. He swooped in on his son, grabbing Tobirama harshly by the arm. Tobirama was tugged along awkwardly, his legs too short for the angle at which Butsuma dragged him.

“Where have you been?” his father scolded lowly between gritted teeth. He paid no mind to the Senju meandering down the same dirt road, and they paid no mind to him in turn.

The question nearly made Tobirama’s heart drop in his chest, the memory of you spreading terror like wildfire across his skin. He looked into Butsuma’s gaze with wide eyes, wondering how his father could have possibly known he had made contact with an Uchiha. His fingers unconsciously rose to the space under his right eye, almost trembling. He was sure that his father could feel the tremor through his hold.

“Training, Father,” Tobirama answered earnestly. He almost crashed into Butsuma as his father stopped suddenly, the child only tripping for a moment before he was pulled into a nearby stable. 

“Tobirama, where have you been?” Butsuma barked, repeating his question more harshly. He jerked Tobirama away by the grip on his arm, allowing him to stumble back into the hay. All Tobirama could do was stare, ashamed that he had disgraced the Senju name and that his father could see it painted on him. Promises piled up on his lips: if he saw you again, he would surely kill you that time! He would immediately set out and— “You better answer me now, boy, or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“I was training with Grandfather’s kunai, Father! On the east end by the mountains like you taught me!” He nodded profusely, scrambling into a deep bow. Tobirama’s eyes knitted closed. 

The silence above him felt like it lasted for an eternity. Tobirama didn’t dare to look, and for a long moment, he couldn’t even meet his father’s eye. Somewhere between the seconds, he found himself mindlessly observing the small population of livestock grazing at the stable's far end. Tobirama glanced at them and their troughs. 

“You were not with Hashirama?” Butsuma spoke slowly, and Tobirama’s head carefully rose with a shake. 

“No, I was not.” Tobirama flinched as Butsuma’s hand came firmly down on his hair, placing just enough weight on his skull to ensure that all of Tobirama’s attention was on him. “I assure you. I was practicing my skill with the kunai.”

“Your elder brother has been acting suspiciously as of late. I want you to find him and report to me what he has been up to.” Butsuma landed a harsh pat on Tobirama’s back, ushering him away. He scrambled away as quickly as he could back into the forest, still gripping the pack of weaponry on his back.

***

It made more sense after that evening. 

Hashirama knelt on a cushion beside him, the two sons before their father. 

“About this boy you have been meeting up with. I looked into that young man and learned that he belongs to the Uchiha clan. Hashirama, you understand what that means, do you not?” The brothers stiffened, forcing on stoic faces so as not to let their discomfort show. Butsuma’s gaze narrowed. “If you do not want to be suspected as a spy, then you must shadow him after the next time the two of you meet. And if he should notice you… kill him.” 

Tobirama eyed his brother nervously. Undoubtedly, the conflict between the Senju and the Uchiha would mean this was the only way to rectify things. Tobirama stared down at his lap, guilt weighing down on his shoulders. 

There was no way for anyone to know about his encounter with you, and even if his father found out, Tobirama was different. At least he tried to kill you. That was enough, wasn’t it? Unlike Hashirama, he at least tried to do the right thing and kill the Uchiha on sight, no matter his level of success.

After a moment of preponderance, Hashirama spoke again,

“Are you completely sure he is an Uchiha?” 

Tobirama gulped, bracing himself for the heavy hit that awaited Hashirama. But it didn’t come. Butsuma studied him with crossed arms, bubbling rage mounting in his chest. He gritted his teeth.

“You trust a member of the clan who killed your brother?” Butsuma simmered. Tobirama stewed, praying for the moment that he was allowed to leave. Hashirama sat confused and still deep in thought on his cushion, not appearing nearly as worried as he should, in Tobirama’s opinion. “If he has been tricking you, you are putting every single Senju in danger.”

Despite Tobirama attempting to convince him otherwise, Hashirama was reluctant to comply. But after a lengthy beating from Butsuma, Hashirama finally agreed to be followed. As they eventually left the room, Tobirama couldn’t help but avert his gaze from the deep bruises and the forlorn expression on Hashirama’s face. 

***

“I am an apothecary,” you had told him. 

He didn’t ask you where. With the tumultuous clan wars, Tobirama assumed you were part of a smaller, nomadic group. As the more prominent clans and clan alliances fought, non-combatants traveled to safer ground, ironically forming their own larger herds for protection.

That was Tobirama’s first mistake: assuming.

“An apothecary,” Tobirama repeated. You wore his fur, curled up against a bed of river glass and hidden between a mess of boulders. He sat on a nearby rock, the headband you had confiscated and returned to him clutched in a ball in his hand. Tobirama cocked his head. “Is that a healer?”

“A woman healer?” you asked, hardly restraining the tiny smile that graced your lips. Your eyes glowed with wonder as you leaned forward, having never heard of such a thing. “No, I am afraid I only collect herbs for medicine. Although our current apothecary is very old, he taught me how to create medicines when we used to live by the coast. A rare honor.” Tobirama’s eyebrows rose on his forehead with an impressed blink.

“That is admirable. Your work takes a keen eye and a sharp mind.” You shifted against the grass to sit with your legs crossed as you leaned forward. A patch of small river flowers grew in a cluster where the gravel of the riverbank began. The white petals grew sporadically down the length of the land. You weaved your fingers through the tiny stems, the pure light color glowing against your skin. 

“You know about medicine?” you mused.

“Yes, my clan is well renowned for our knowledge of various medicines. The children are taught about these things at a young age, although, I possessed neither a keen enough eye nor a sharp enough mind for healing, to the disappointment of my mother.” You drew a bent knee toward your chest, rearranging your long robes as you gently collected the tiny flowers.

“Was she a woman healer?” You scooted forward to sit in front of him.

“No,” he said, letting you smooth back his hair. “She was a warrior like my father. Wove baskets—beautiful baskets— when she was with us. My grandmother was a master healer, though.”

“A woman master healer,” you breathed in awe to yourself, weaving the flowers into Tobirama’s hair. You couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips. “That is fascinating.” 

“My grandfather used to take me fishing in the northern streams before he passed. He always brought her herbs. Perhaps I could find some of her formulas. You may find them interesting.” 

“Really?” You leaned back on your ankles, admiring the little white flowers that adorned Tobirama’s crown. “I could not ask you to do such a thing.”

“If you are not allowed to learn of medicine and herbs, how else will you pursue being a great apothecary?” You blinked at him in disbelief, taken aback. “That is your dream, is it not? You speak of it often.”

“Do I?” You let out a light laugh, sheepishly averting your gaze. “I apologize. My good friend from home often tells me I speak too much.” Tobirama scoffed.

“Some friend,” he muttered, but his gaze softened as he adjusted the fur over your shoulders. “You do not speak too much. Especially when it concerns things you are passionate about. Therefore—” Tobirama plucked one of the flowers out of his hair and tucked it behind your ear. “Tell me about this flower.” 

You instinctively opened your mouth but quickly closed it when you noticed Tobirama’s expression chance. He held a glint in his eye and the beginning of a smile on his thin lips. He leaned forward, brushing your hand along another patch of little petals.

“I know you know this one,” he said softly before leaning back against the boulder behind him. His bright red eyes met your own. They held softness in them. “Please, I would like to listen.”

You almost laughed, your nervousness almost causing you to forget all your knowledge as his touch left you.

“They call this purity flower. It is incredibly delicate, and they only grow this big.” You stared down to where Tobirama had placed your hand. “You can do quite a few things with them. They are wonderful for sore throats, sanitizing wounds, upset stomachs…”

You brushed through them, and a few flowers crumpled under your fingers.

He would never forget that. The way your face fell as the flowers at the center of the cluster began to shrivel.

***

He was smarter than Hashirama. 

Tobirama wasn’t a traitor to the clan. Tobirama wouldn’t be caught fraternizing with an Uchiha like his foolish brother. He was stern, calculating. He was so careful. 

He had carried his prized Uchiha-killing kunai with him the entire time. 

It was strapped to his leg when he first chased after you. 

It was with him as you adorned him with blossoms. 

He held the same knife he had once held up to your neck as he screamed in your face that he would carve out your eyes the entire time. 

And he had another chance.

It was right in front of him, as you blathered on about the daylight. Your lips moved, but nothing came from your mouth. 

He had another opportunity to redeem himself. 

The moment of his childhood that haunted him for many nights could have been corrected. Tobirama was a true warrior now. He could have killed you. He could have carved out your sharingan, sinking his kunai into your skull as you screamed and kicked under him, just as he promised long ago. No one would hear you out here. 

He could do anything he wanted to you.

But he hesitated again, and now his only weapon was lost.

The time you had been sneaking around had hardly been long; the days in sum dwarfed compared to a year. 

And now he watched you in the morning sun, his heart and head doing a double take as his eyes hurriedly searched for the kunai he had pushed into the river. But it was long gone. 

“It is morning?!” You exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. Startled, Tobirama scurried up with you, stumbling back until one of his feet sank into the rushing water. You lurched forward instinctively to steady him.

“Do not touch me!” he barked, and the gruffness of his voice made you recoil. He faltered, sputtering with a vigorous shake of his head. Tobirama balanced himself as the cold, rushing current pushed at his knee. He looked up at you, staring into your wide, confused eyes. 

Looking upon you in the daylight made him view you in a way he never had before.

Yes, he could see it now. 

He could see the Uchiha in you… and it was ugly.

Every part of him burned. It was as if he had been coated in mud, leaving his skin irritated, itchy and inflamed. He wished he could scrub every inch of himself of you. Slice, scratch, and claw into himself to erase the ghost of your lingering touch. 

Tobirama burned with shame. 

You shifted, moving to speak, when something covered your eyes. You snatched it slowly in confusion, but as the silk ribbon slid from your hair to drape over your fingers, your eyes quickly widened even farther than they already were. Tobirama stood in the water, watching you with a pounding chest as you, too, stumbled back. Your gaze darted from the Uchiha crest to Tobirama, who, for once, did not hold any softness in his expression. 

“Oh.” You held your shaking hand up to your lips. You took another step back. Tobirama didn’t move.

He looked angry, the tension of his clenched jaw just about making the entirety of his body shake. His brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and rage. And all he could do was stare at you with fists balled up in mounting fury. Tobirama’s eyes turned glossy as he held back the burning tears that threatened to spill over his waterline. 

You weren’t thinking, not as you stepped forward and spoke his name.

You wanted to go to him, tell him it was all a misunderstanding. Something. You tried to tell him something, anything.

You stepped forward, and Tobirama planted his second foot in the water.

“Do not come closer, Uchiha!” he spat. His words halted you in your stride. Tobirama stumbled back, splashing in the shallows. His clothes were drenched with dark patches which adorned his legs and sides. He held his hand up, almost as a buffer between him and you. He shook, and droplets fell back into the rushing current of the water. 

His father’s words to his brother repeatedly played in his head. 

Tobirama had been endangering his clan all this time. He had been reckless and naive, just like his brother. He sat as the current rushed by, stuck and frozen like a cornered animal, trying to calculate how many of his kinsmen could have been saved if he had been more sparing with his tongue. 

You spoke in a meek voice,

“Tobirama—”

“Get out of here! Do not dare show your face back here, foul creature; I will kill you!” he screamed with all the weight of his guilt. Tobirama rose to his full height, hulking shoulders squared. You didn’t wait a second longer before you ran. You ran straight into the brush, and in an instant, you were deep into the forest. You could still hear Tobirama shouting behind you. “I will kill you, Uchiha! I will carve out your sharingan! I—”

He choked the moment he lost sight of you.

Tobirama dropped to his knees, splashing again down into the water. He heaved, his throat burning as he threw up into the river's current. Tobirama uttered a strangled cry, mucus dropping from his mouth and nose. Hot tears poured down his face as he gasped into the surface, nearly drowning himself in the water and his own mess. 

You continued to run. You ran through the woods, paying little mind to the scrapes you collected as you rushed back toward the Uchiha colony. Your foot snagged against a fallen branch, causing you to smack face-first into a nearby log. You scrambled to your feet, heart pumping as you continued back home, your breath rasping rhythmically in your ears. Wetness streamed down your face, combining tears, snot, and blood to cake your skin. 

But as you grew closer to your colony, the scent of smoke grew stronger. And as you looked up between the branches, you could see a dark cloud rising into the air. 

The weeping became clearer. Agonized weeping. 

You burst forth from the trees to your family’s garden. 

To where the garden should have been, but the garden was gone.

Your home was gone, and a smoking pile of charcoal was left in its place. 

A few structural beams shot out from the pile of char, like pleading limbs reaching up toward the heavens for a salvation that would never come. The paper walls were gone. The engawa had been reduced to rubble. The engawa that you and Madara stood on just hours before while your parents discussed your union.

…

Your parents.

You shouted for them, rushing straight for the ruins of your home. Large masses of char littered the streets, marking the resting places of other houses just like yours. Your eyes darted about in a frenzy, making eye contact with the mourning Uchiha, who littered the dirt streets for any confirmation that your parents had made it. 

“Where are my parents?” You cried to people who averted their gazes. One woman covered her child’s ears, holding him close to her chest. “Have you seen my parents? Please! Someone! Did they make it? Will you not answer me?” 

But no one answered you. 

There was just weeping.

You didn’t see their faces or those of your family. 

You raced toward the rubble, rifling through the mess with tears blurring your vision. You were howling something, letting words spill and tumble from your lips with the same liquidity as the water pouring from your face. Your fingers began to sting. Debris cut your skin, forming abrasions that filled with soot and dirt as you clawed at what used to be your home. 

A muscular arm looped under your torso. You kicked your legs as you continued to wail, pounding your fists at the back of red armor. You could only watch as you were slowly carried away from the wreckage of your home, the reminisce of other ruined buildings gathering into your blurry view with every step. 

You went limp about halfway down the road, hanging upside down with your cheek smushed against a bloody backplate. You cried, the compilation of mucus stuck in your nose, causing your sinuses to burn. You coughed, fist pounding a last time against armor before you were dropped back to the ground. 

Your knees gave out under you, and before you stood Madara. 

Tall, hulking, and imposing Madara with a somber expression on his face and a gaping wound on his side. He still held you by the hand, your fingers just barely hooked on his. His feet were stained with blood and caked with dirt, and sitting in the disturbed dirt road sat vials of herbs and a collection of your supplies from the apothecary. 

Only then did you notice what he was surveying behind you, letting your hand drop from his.

Bodies of the injured were splayed out on salvaged blankets in the middle of the street. The able-bodied scurried around with what little medical supplies could be salvaged from the remains of your village, tending to warriors, women, children, and elders alike. Your head snapped back toward Madara.

“You must make medicine,” Madara said in a voice barely above a whisper, although it was by no means gentle. He held a gruffness in his voice. Frustration laced his tone. You heaved yourself up, something about being on the ground making you feel more vulnerable than you already felt in your confusion.

“Madara, I—”

“What?” Madara snapped, jerking forward at you. You recoiled, lips closing instantly. “What now, woman? Can you not see the crisis laid out in front of you? You have received exactly what you wanted and yet remain stubborn even when a man is giving you direct instructions.” You were still dazed.

“Where is Makihara?”

It wasn’t hard for Madara to wrestle you back to the ground. Your head slammed against the dirt, the vials of herbs and medicine sideways in your vision. Madara’s lips touched your ear as he spoke venom directly into your skull. His words sent a submissive chill directly into your heart.

“For the sake of the gods, make the goddam medicine and cease your difficulty. Your clan head bids it.” He released your head, which was engulfed in his wide-handed grip. You stared dizzily at his back as he walked away, his form wavering in your vision.

“Clan… head?”

***

Madara was officially deemed the head of the Uchiha clan later that night, bare except for his loin cloth as his body was painted with sacred symbols. He sat like a king on the ruins of the Uchiha village, looking pensive and severe.

The ceremony was intimate, traditional, and without frills.

Somber.

What was left of the village wasn’t made to attend, but most showed their faces in the torchlight, gazing upon their new leader as Madara was adorned with red and white paint. The population of Uchiha gathered around him, squishing together to watch the decoration of their new leader. 

Madara sat amongst the ruins of what used to be your colony, looking solemn in the warm glow of the flames around him. He stared ahead. A surviving elder smeared two lines of red paint under Madara’s eyes with shaky fingers. Bandages covered the elder’s eye, wrapping all the way around his head. Another elder brushed his frail hands over Madara’s cheeks with white before anointing his forehead with his thumb. 

You had made that paint. You admired it from the back of the crowd. 

A few children had been sent to gather pigmented clay while you exhausted the rest of your herbal supply on medicinal remedies. Even with what you made stretch, you barely had enough to treat all the wounded. Burying the dead had taken all day. 

Madara stood in front of all the Uchiha, bare-chested and painted in holy symbols as the clan revered him. He barked, the deep, powerful sound resounding from his chest. His colored abs flexed with the call, and the Uchiha chanted back, filling the surrounding forest with spirited howling. 

He stood as the new leader of the Uchiha clan, yet the colors that adorned him were yours, as were the herbs that decorated his wound.

***

Your parents were dead.

It was a fact that you recalled often during the mindless time you spent crushing herbs, beseeching the weight of it to sink in. But instead, you were met with numbness, even as the mourners around you grieved their lost loved ones. 

You sat under your makeshift canopy on a rug of simple woven threads. The three sides of your new apothecary were draped with fabric, acting as a buffer to the light night breeze. And there you thought, pulverizing medicine with your pestle to replenish your depleted medicinal supply. As the clan’s only apothecary, you could no longer collect herbs. In a strike of irony, this in turn meant that you were too important and no longer allowed to leave the Uchiha’s new territory.

You hadn’t noticed Madara’s presence. Only when the torchlight from outside no longer filtered into your tent did you think to even blink. He stood over you, harsh shadows cast across his face from the lone lamp that lit up your workspace. Madara’s colors had faded from his skin, but the stain from the dye remained as the faintest of hues.

You could just barely see the holy symbols.

“Does the new location please you?” 

You stopped, the moment of distraction allowing the ache in your hands to set in. You nearly dropped your pestle, recoiling slightly as the tension froze your fingers. You had been working since daybreak.

“I cannot say I have been able to see much of it, Madara.”

“Come, then.” 

To your surprise, Madara extended his hand to you. You looked upon him with exhaustion, almost to ask if he genuinely meant what he spoke. He waited patiently for you to place your hand in his before whisking you into the surrounding woods. 

***

The Uchiha had retreated farther inland, upstream to the higher ground by the mountains. The trees were large in these parts, far larger than you were used to. They extended twice the height compared to the ones in your previous territory, towering large fans of leaves up toward the starry night sky. Even the vast constellations appeared brighter in these new parts. 

Madara walked a step or two in front as you strolled across the rocky terrain. You panted as you struggled up a steep incline. Madara hadn’t bothered to help you, instead moving along onto the level above. Small stones that littered the surface of the earth slid under your sandals.

“I am—” you huffed —“I am not as agile as I used to be.” 

Madara laughed somewhere above.

“You are in your prime. What is this talk of agility?” 

You pulled yourself up onto the dirt with the help of an exposed root. You fanned yourself, wiping the sweat off your brow as Madara chuckled somewhere in front of you.

“I meant that I no longer climb trees every day, Madara. Perhaps that is something you do, oh great clan head, but not I.” 

You turned to stand, suddenly struck by the view before you. Madara stood just ahead, holding up a branch with his forearm to expose the landscape. You hurried over, framing yourself in the window of leaves that Madara created. From up so high, you could see how the trees covered the land for miles, bisected by one of the Land of Fire’s many rivers in the distance. 

“Are you able to say if the new land pleases you?” You caught Madara’s eye for a split second, quickly averting your gaze at the sight of his sentimental expression, your aloneness suddenly growing palpable. You nodded.

“Moving the clan here was clever. Having the high ground and access to fresh water will only serve to be prosperous.” You offered him a gentle smile and a nod, glancing back at the scenery. “I know you will make a great clan head, Madara.”

“We will see about that,” Madara admitted in a rare moment of self-doubt. The confession made your forehead crinkle instantly. You cocked your head, taken aback. Madara sighed, almost as if reading your thoughts before you spoke them. “The elders— the remaining elders— believe that I am still quite young to be taking up the mantle. They still hold power when it comes to making decisions on behalf of the clan. At least, until they deem I have grown into my title as clan head.”

“Why make you leader at all if they are going to make such fuss?” you scoffed, knowing very well the answer. 

You sat down at the cliff's edge, watching the moon in the distance, and Madara came to sit next to you. He shifted, having more difficulty getting situated than you. The branch he had been holding up came down to smack him on the back of the head. 

“I have had similar thoughts.” Madara looked off with a troubled frown. “I worry for the future of the Uchiha. Our numbers dwindle with every battle. And with this last raid, the women will be forced to join the militia.” 

“Is this true?” you nearly exclaimed. You withdrew into yourself, brushing a finger across your bottom lip. The news rattled around in your ribcage. “How unorthodox!” 

Madara sneered, and it hardly took his admission of “I am against such things” for you 

to understand his stance on the matter. You let him grumble to himself, once again lost in a daze, as you took some of the dry dirt below between your fingers. 

“Madara,” you called softly, and he perked up with a hum. Between the chaos of the last few days, you were hardly allowed to give anything proper thought. Of all the terrible things to sink in, you only had one worry on your mind. “Do you believe I might be sent to fight the Senju?”

You stared into Madara’s eyes. Tobirama’s fearsome expression flashed across your mind as you recalled his promises to take your life. They made you shiver. 

“I would think not, given that you are acting as the lone apothecary of the Uchiha,” Madara answered, his voice deep and soft. “Besides, I forbid it.”

You didn’t know what to say as you let the bit of relief Madara’s words brought you to wash over your thoughts. Whether you intended it or not, you had made yourself invaluable to your clan. They weren’t about to put you on the front lines anytime soon. 

Madara spoke your name.

“Do you like it?” he asked. You weren’t paying attention again. You blinked to yourself, his deep voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Do I like what?”

“The new land, does it please you?”

“It is… not home,” you admitted. “But the landscape does please me, yes. I am certain it will be home soon enough.” Madara closed the space between you before gingerly placing two fingers under your chin. He turned your face toward him.

“I am clan head now.”

“Yes, Madara, I am aware.” You tried to subtly turn your chin away, but he held firm, boring into you with vigilant eyes. Nocturnal insects chattered in the forest behind you.

“No other bachelor in the Uchiha can provide better than I.” You had no other choice than to meet his dark gaze. He spoke to you earnestly. “Will you not reconsider marrying me?” A frown tugged at his lips. Worry swirled on his face.

“We are far too young, Madara.” You took his hand, gently removing it from your skin. You folded in on yourself, backing away from the edge as you bashfully gripped the fronts of your robes to dry your sweaty hands. Madara pivoted, leaning back to keep you in his sights, the moon’s slow, enshrining him in a silver silhouette. You curled into the earth. “Besides… too much has happened for us to think about such things.”

You could feel it: the urge to fight you on the tip of Madara’s tongue. Indeed, other Uchiha have married at your age and younger. Sometimes, young girls would be considered ready for marriage after their first menstrual cycle. But to your surprise, he didn’t fight you at all. Instead, he came to sit next to you. 

Madara could’ve fought you on several things. He hadn’t yet forgotten the mystery beau he was convinced was keeping your affections from him, nor was he thrilled that you had been named as the clan’s sole apothecary through a simple process of elimination.

You hadn’t forgotten his attempts to strongarm you into marriage or the terrifying outburst that caused you to run away. Although, with your parents gone, you were placed supremely in charge of your fate. Try as he must, not even Madara could force you into marriage. 

But when it came down to it, with your family dead and your lover disgusted by your bloodline, you were left again with Madara. That had been how it always was. Having lost so much during the clan conflict, you were always left with each other, weren’t you?

As you began to weep, Madara scooted backward to be with you. You leaned against him, placing your head on his shoulder as you continued to cry, holding his arm to bury your face into the sleeve of his robes—dark, round spots soaked into the fabric.

Madara held you in the dimness as the surrounding clearing filled with your sobs. It had been the first time you were allowed to cry. The first time you truly had to confront the regret that haunted you from the few days prior. For his capriciousness and overall little patience for sentiment, Madara nurtured your vulnerability. 

His fingers trailed lightly over your hair, rounding up stray strands behind your ear. He pressed his temple against the top of your head, caressing down your jaw to clear away the tears that slid down your cheeks with his thumb. Madara lifted your face, his second hand cupping the other side of your face as he continued to swipe away the wetness from your face. 

You held his wrists in your ginger grip, as he laid a tender kiss on your forehead. He gazed into your teary eyes in the moonlight, casting away another stream of tears as he offered a gentle kiss to your right cheek, and then your left. 

His nose nudged against yours, staring into your glassy eyes. You let them flutter shut, causing more droplets to splash against your face. Madara placed his lips on yours, holding the sides of your face as he kissed you with earnest. 

You kissed him back for a moment, only for a moment. The shape of his face was different than Tobirama in a way you couldn’t quite place your finger on. He had rounder cheeks. A longer bridge to his nose. Madara’s hair draped over his shoulders to tickle your skin.

You pulled away, just the slightest distance between your face and Madara’s before he leaned in again. You pushed against his chest, but his movements this time were more forceful. He held you firmly in his grip, his fingers pinching against your cheeks as he lowered himself on top of you, pinning you against the earth and his larger body. 

Your eyes went wide, the entirety of your body going frozen as Madara moved against yours, his once gentle motions now a gnashing of lips and teeth that made you press your head into the dirt. You tried to gasp his name in protest, but your words were muffled. His forearm rested to the right of your head, his breath hot against your skin as he smored your airways. His fingers tugged awkwardly at your hair, causing you to wince as he pulled the strands. You pushed on his chest again, kicking your legs under him, but Madara lowered more of his weight on top of you. 

A line of saliva connected the two of you when he finally ceased his assault on your lips. He gazed upon you with lidded eyes before he continued, tucking his head in the crook of your neck. You screamed as he sunk his teeth into your flesh, tears pouring from your wide eyes as you stared up at the pitch black night sky. Madara’s hand swiftly came over your mouth, to muffle the shrieks that tore from your throat.

You flailed violently, limbs lashing in adrenaline-fueled terror to no avail as Madara kept you pinned to the earth with his larger, heavier frame. And then you felt a hand dip into your robes, tugged the top material from your shoulders to grope at your chest. You cried harder, squealing like a pig at the slaughter as you finally managed to squirm an arm free.

You thrashed it around in a flurry of scratches and strikes. Your hand snagged on Madara’s face as you tried to scoot out from underneath him, causing him to shoot backward. Blood dripped from his nose, forming a nasty pool of red in tandem with the jagged gash that sliced diagonally across his upper lip. 

He looked at you in confusion and anger; blood streaked across his fingers. You scrambled to your feet, darting down the mountain and back to the new colony. 

You would never speak of that night again.

Madara dropped all speak of marriage.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Lots of fun author’s notes: I hated the pacing of this fic. It used to have really low notes in the early days so I think I got a little sloppy with it, and now it’s exploded out of nowhere! I hope this “retcon” fixes some of the plotholes!

I would like to think the teen years were made purposefully vague and dreamy so that the transition to the dark content is more impactful. Yes, yes we’ll say that!

I don’t always imagine what Reader looks like in my stories (I usually don’t) but this one I do! I usually picture Lupita Nyong'o. Not sure if that adds or takes away for any of you. Who I picture ultimately doesn’t matter

I’d also like to think the whole scene where Tobirama scares Reader off is like any movie where a protagonist has to scare off a loyal dog. Like, “Go on, boy! Git! You’re not welcome here! Git!” while like throwing rocks or something.

Also a reminder that I am not a smut author, so please withhold any thirst comments or requests. Thank you. 

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

@gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake​

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

Hello, can you write a story where Jaime seeks the reader for comfort and reassurance after losing his hand? Even after some time he still feels insecure about it? When getting intimate for example?

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DNI unless 18+, It gets kinda dark before it gets good cause I got carried away (again). Mentions of SA, incest, manipulation, violence, heated makeout sessions, mentions of both male and female anatomy, selling women like livestock, female masturbation, oral, male recieving, fingering, p in v (wrap it before you tap it) etc.

Word Count: 5,588

Summary: Jaime and Y/n can’t keep their relationship a secret for long, and Jaime struggles with his new hand.

Taglist: @gruffle1 (I know you said you wanted to be tagged in all my works and I think a few have slipped through the cracks. I hope this is still okay though)

Author’s Note: I am so, so sorry for this long awaited request! It’s been at least two years and I know I needed my oldest request taken care of. So thank you for your patience, Nonny! I hope it’s worth the wait.

I made the reader Jon Arryn’s young, distant cousin, so that there’s reason for her to be a member of the King’s court and Queen Cersei’s lady-in-waiting. Also another sorry in advance if the story jumps around a bit.

(I do not consent to my works being reposted/copied)

~~~

Several, long months have come and gone since Jaime had attacked Ned Stark in the streets of King's Landing. He had run off to avoid capture and to rally with his father to save Tyrion, who was then in the clutches of Ned Stark's wife. He didn't have time to properly pack or say goodbye to his family. No one even knew where he had gone until Ned Stark was brought back to the Red Keep that same evening, his leg severely injured. When the Hand of the King spoke of Jaime's attack, Queen Cersei was quick to spin a tale about how Ned was the first to attack after stumbling out of one of Lord Baelish's brothels drunk. It didn't deter King Robert enough to send Ned away, but it did earn Cersei a bruise on her face.

Lady Y/n Arryn tended to the Queen's bruise that night, quietly listening to Cersei's drunk, angry rants about Jaime being accused of treason and running away. Dutifully, the young lady-in-waiting helped Cersei get ready for bed before slipping away the moment she was dismissed. Y/n retreated to her own quarters that night, sobbing silently to herself, worried sick for her secret lover. Every night, she prayed to the gods to forgive Jaime of his sins and bid him a safe return, but not long after Jaime left, King Robert died and Joffrey took the throne. His first decree was to arrest Ned Stark and hold his daughter Sansa captive for treason. Things began to quickly spiral. Not long after Lord Stark's arrest, word got back to King's Landing about Jaime's capture. In retaliation for his father being arrested, Robb Stark had gathered their banners and rose the entire North up against the crown, winning battle after battle against the Lannisters, including the battle that transpired before Jaime was taken prisoner.

Months had gone by and there was still no progress in rescuing Jaime. This agitated Tywin Lannister almost as much as it did Lady Y/n, but at least he could openly show his disdain if he so pleased. Y/n, on the other hand, had to suffer in silence, soothing her queen every night Jaime wasn't by her side. The envy festered deep in Y/n's gut whenever Cersei whispered her twin brother's name in her sleep. Lady Arryn could only wish she could blame it on the wine, but she was no fool. Jaime had once gone to her in confidence about his relationship with Cersei. How their mother once found them in bed together when they were very young and immediately put a stop to it. Cersei's feelings for him remerged when she married King Robert and was left unsatisfied in their marriage bed, but Jaime never returned those feelings.

At first, he said that what happened with his sister when they were children was a young and stupid mistake and he never loved her that way. Even later on in his life, he wasn't attracted to his sister and didn't want to soil his white cloak of honor for someone who clearly took advantage of him as a child. But then, slowly, Jaime admitted that if he was ever going to break his oath, he would only do so for Lady Y/n. She had caught his eye when the late Jon Arryn, once Hand of the King, assigned his cousin to be Queen Cersei's lady-in-waiting. Jaime, of course, never said such things out loud, but he knew from the start that Y/n was beautiful and that observation slowly turned into a need to be around her. It wasn't hard to put himself in her company since their duties to the King and Queen brought them together more often than not.

When Jaime finally spilled all of these sins to her late one night, Y/n had asked if he was truly willing to break his vows for her, even if it meant only ever meeting in secret. She was, after all, unmarried and still a maiden, her family hoping that one day she'll catch the eye of one of the high lords in the King's court. If word got out that an unmarried lady and a duly sworn Kingsguard were seeing each other in secret, it would be devastating for both of them. When Jaime quickly said he was willing to take the risk, Y/n followed that up with another question. Was he willing to risk her life if their secret meetings ever led to a child? She was no maester. She couldn't get her hands on any moon tea without being detected even if she tried. Was Jaime willing to let Y/n risk her life if anyone found out? If the Queen found out?

Jaime admittedly shuddered at that idea, knowing what Cersei was capable of. With that in mind, he vowed to Y/n that none of their secret meetings will lead to a child because he vowed to only ever love her from afar if it meant protecting her. Y/n's heart wept at the idea of being apart from him, knowing how he felt but being unable to act on it. That very first night, she kissed him with a promise on her lips. She promised Jaime to meet him in secret, but only so that he could hold her. Nothing more.

~~~

Years of their secret courting had gone by without a hitch. They met mostly at night when both the King and Queen were asleep in their respective rooms. At first, they only talked quietly in the dark until the early morning light, but then it led to unspoken kisses. The kisses soon led to touching, and over the years those touches began to grow bolder. As promised, Jaime never took Y/n's maidenhead, but that didn't stop them from other nocturnal activities. Oftentimes, he would sneak out of her room with the phantom touch of her mouth around his cock or his clean fingers would still feel warm from being inside of her.

It was blissful, and Jaime always found himself imprinting his love for her in every kiss and every touch. It was always said in secret, but it was always said with sincerity. Despite having to sneak around, it was the best years of the young lovers' lives. That is, until the day Jaime learned of Tyrion's capture and attacked Ned Stark, quickly leaving the city to join his father at Casterly Rock. That day was the last day Y/n ever saw her lover before everything went downhill. The days turned into weeks, then months, before slowly creeping up on a year. At that time, Y/n learned of a horrifying rumor. When Robert died and Joffrey was crowned King, both of Robert's brothers, Stannis and Renly, rallied to war for the Iron Throne, claiming that Joffrey was not their brother's trueborn son. Stannis claimed that Joffrey was the bastard son of incest, between Cersei and Jaime Lannister.

When Y/n heard of this, her blood ran cold and her stomach turned, threatening to release its contents. She didn't want to believe these rumors, but whenever she looked at Cersei's children, she could now see plenty of Jaime in them. Denial turned into anger, the young woman wondering if everything Jaime told her had been a lie. She wondered just how long he had been lying to her, and if he ever stopped loving Cersei to begin with.

Again, she could only react to this in her own time but kept herself stoic and dutiful whenever she was in the presence of the Queen. Despite how cruel Cersei was to her, Y/n wouldn't ever give up her knowledge of this rumor or her relationship with Jaime just out of spite. Cersei was still Queen Regent. She could do whatever she wanted to Y/n, even for no reason at all. So Y/n kept her mouth shut and continued to take the Queen's usual cruelty. With House Stark and now House Baratheon rallying against her son, Cersei was starting to grow stressed, which drove her to be crueler to her servants. But even then, Y/n didn't speak a word.

~~~

Many things happen to distract Y/n from her dark thoughts. Joffrey had Ned Stark executed under charges of treason, Tyrion was named Acting Hand of the King upon his return, Renly Baratheon was mysteriously murdered, and Stannis Baratheon tried laying a siege on the Red Keep from the Blackwater Bay. Before the night was over, Tywin Lannister and his remaining army came to the rescue, and was named Hand of the King for his heroism.

Before the year was up, Jaime had returned to King's Landing.

Y/n was walking up to the Queen's chambers, holding her skirts and carefully watching her feet so she wouldn't trip on the stairs. She nearly reached her destination when she finally looked up and noticed a poor, filthy, crippled old man standing in front of her. She opened her mouth to scream before his hand clamped over her mouth and shushed her. Taking a moment, Y/n recognized those eyes, her own widening in disbelief. His hair was long, matted, and discolored. His skin and clothes were stained in filth, not an inch of him were spared. His beard mostly covered his face and worst of all, he only had one hand, the arm missing said limb was held close to his chest.

Several moments had passed before Jaime carefully removed his hand from her mouth, trying to contain the relief from his eyes but to no avail. The astonishment and delight in Y/n's eyes, however, quickly turned dark and stoic. Jaime's hurt and confusion were evident when she stepped away from him with a cold look staring back at him, "Ser Jaime."

A beat skips by before a tight smile reached Jaime's lips, hiding under his beard, "My lady."

Y/n brushed passed him with just as cold of a shoulder, her eyes lowered in disgust, "The Queen would be thrilled to know that you are safe."

Jaime was too shocked to follow her, at first, before his legs finally moved and silently trailed after the lady-in-waiting to Cersei's chambers. After Y/n had closed the doors behind him, Jaime wouldn't see her again for several days.

She had claimed to be ill in this time, dismissing herself from serving the Queen until she felt better... or until she could come up with a plan to leave King's Landing. Ever since she learned of Joffrey's true parentage, Y/n has been trying to get a hold of her late cousin's wife in the Vale, but Lysa Arryn didn't appear rushed to respond to her. Y/n was hoping she could be dismissed from her duties and travel back home to the Eyrie, never wanting to speak of Jaime's affair with her or his betrayal ever again. With all of her letters being left unanswered, Y/n felt hopeless. She couldn't bear to stay in King's Landing anymore now that Jaime was back, but where was she to go if she couldn't return home?

One night, Y/n was getting ready for bed, dressed in her nightgown and undoing the braids in her hair so that it could be brushed. Her mind was far away until she heard the familiar sound of the secret entrance attached to her chambers being opened. Startled, she quickly turns away from her mirror and watched as Jaime climbed out of the hidden passage as if no time had passed between them. Freshly cleaned and shaven, Jaime looked as though he never left the Red Keep, apart from the cut hair and golden hand he now sported on his right arm. Instead of his armor, Jaime wore a white undershirt and pants, as if ready for bed. When he looked around, his eyes found Y/n's, and the two of them kept that gaze locked in silence, daring the other to move first.

After some time, Jaime sighed in surrender, looking away to close the secret door behind him. He had half expected the entrance to be sealed since it appeared as though Y/n was avoiding him, but he knew he needed to try and see her. He needed to know if she was avoiding him because of his new appearance, or if... she simply no longer loved him.

Turning back to her, Jaime was shocked to find Y/n standing up to greet him, only, she decided to skip the formalities and get right to the source of her anger, "Is it true? Is Joffrey yours? Are all three of them yours?"

The bombarding questions stunned Jaime, like lightning hitting him head-on. He couldn't move a muscle, horrified eyes scanning hers until the guilt and shame took over. Jaime swallowed down the bile coming up his throat before whispering, "... Yes."

Y/n was quick to react as she stumbled back to lean against her vanity for support, the mirror behind her catching the guilt of Jaime's reflection, watching her every movement, "You lied to me."

He found himself moving again, a hand out to her as he stepped forward, but she flinched. Jaime immediately froze in his steps, hurt shadowing his face as he slowly lowered his hand, his voice cracking under the weight of his sins and sorrows, "I'm so sorry. Cersei found out about us -years ago- and I begged her to spare you in exchange for... in exchange for me..."

Y/n didn't dare buy that until she knew everything. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, "How? How could she have known? We were so careful at the beginning, not even Lord Varys could've known."

Jaime blinked as he tried to find words to calm her worries, but in truth, he didn't even think to try and find out how Cersei figured him out, even after all these years, "I'm not sure. Maybe she just... knew. I am her twin after all."

Watching as Y/n turned her back to him, watching her reflection crumble in the mirror, Jaime felt his heart clench in agony as she demanded more answers, "How many times?"

"Just those three times the children were conceived. Cersei always planned it around the times Robert would come to her marriage bed. That's all, I swear."

The last few words struck a nerve, Jaime could tell by watching her shoulders tighten, as well as her voice, "You lied to me... for years. You let this continue... for years, without ever telling me the truth, even when you had plenty of opportunities to do so! And yet you can stand there and suddenly swear to me as if I can still trust your word? After everything has been a lie?"

Jaime's legs moved before his mind could, closing the distance and grabbing her shoulder with his one good hand. Y/n let out a small gasp of surprise but didn't dare scream in fear of someone bursting into her chambers. Her eyes wildly watched Jaime with worry, fearfully waiting for him to do something, but Jaime just stood before her, frantically searching for something in her eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he found it, and spoke ever so gently, his breath ghosting her lips in their confined space, "Everything I have done... every sin, every vow... every time Cersei took me into her bed, I did it all to protect you."

"And what would you have me do?" The smile she bore was thin and unhinged. Neither genuine nor kind as she glared up at him, "Thank you? Forgive you?"

"No. No, I know I can never ask that of you. I just thought... you deserved to know why I did it. Cersei would have killed you if I refused her."

"So you just never bothered telling me?"

Jaime raised his other hand to grab her other shoulder, only to let a deep ache in his limb remind him that he didn't have a right hand anymore. Jaime stared down at the offending golden hand, a thought festering in the back of his mind. For the first time since he had returned home, he realized that he would no longer get to hold Y/n with both hands, to run all of his fingers all throughout her skin and through her hair as he kissed her breathlessly. Y/n followed his gaze to also stare at his fake hand but made no move to acknowledge it as he finally found his words, "I was scared of losing you. It was selfish of me. I know that now. You had every right to know, this entire time. You had the right to choose whether or not you'd like to stay with me after what I did. I knew, deep down, either way, I'd lose you. So I kept quiet. I'm sorry."

"I suppose I can't blame you," she spoke bitterly, staring back up at Jaime through her eyelashes, "Why have one woman when you can have two?"

The accusation stung, and Jaime knew he deserved it. All the same, he was still a selfish man and he could not let his lover think this way a second longer. His hand rose to her face, caressing the skin of her jaw as he whispered, "I don't love her, Y/n. I never have. Every time she summoned me to her chambers... I obeyed because I was willing to do anything if it meant protecting you."

Y/n relents for a while before finally letting down her disgust and anger, leaning against the touch of his hand that she hasn't felt in a year. Her eyes were sad, distant as they bore a hole into his shirt, "Do you intend on seeing her again?"

Jaime's head lowers in shame, softly speaking under his breath, "I don't want you to die, Y/n."

Y/n rolls her lips, looking away as she rapidly blinks to hold back tears. She found it difficult to smile, despite trying, "Then perhaps it is better for everyone if I leave. Cersei can't hurt me if I wasn't here, and she will never be able to torment you again."

"I... I don't want that either."

"Then what do you want, Ser Jaime?"

He said it with confidence as if it was the easiest thing in the world to say, "I want to marry you."

She smiled, entertaining his dream before crushing it, "You can't, my love... you made a vow as a Kingsguard."

"I already broke those vows."

Y/n's hands reach up to rest against his chest, her fingers tapping lightly against his heart, "Technically your vows state that you cannot hold any lands or wife or father any sons. You didn't break any of those vows when you were with me."

"... But I broke those vows when I killed a King and fathered a Queen's children."

Her eyes meet up with his, "Then I suppose you're no longer a Kingsguard in the eyes of the gods."

"No... I suppose not," an idea struck him in full force, the whole revelation dawning as clear as day on his face. Y/n watched the whole thing unfold with curiosity as he spoke, smiling like an excited child, "There's another way... If you'll have me."

~~~

The very next morning, Jaime stood in front of the Hand of the King, his father, with a proposition and the confidence of a lion, "In the eyes of the gods, I was no longer a Kingsguard the moment I struck down the Mad King. And now that I can't fight with my sword hand, I am no longer of any use as a knight. My place isn't in King's Landing anymore... my place is in Casterly Rock."

Despite the stoic expression on his face, Tywin could not help the slight incline of his head, giving away his contained interest. Jaime smiled on the inside, knowing he had his father trapped with his bait, "Have Joffrey dismiss me and I will be your son and heir... under one condition."

"Name it."

"Arrange a marriage for me. Wed Lady Y/n to me."

A few moments pass before Tywin leans back in his seat and straightens his posture, overshadowing his son even when one sat and the other stood, "Why her?"

"House Arryn has been strangers to our house as of late. Jon Arryn is gone, Lysa Arryn is unwell, and her sickly son is heir to the Eyrie. Any strong relationship we could possibly have with them now lies with Y/n," those were the words his lover had him recite nearly all night long. Despite how much she loved him, even Y/n knew that he wasn't the smartest Lannister. Years from now, Jaime would recite this tale to his brother, and Tyrion will laugh with pride. Y/n may be a quiet individual, but she always had a way with words that always magnetized Jaime to her. With her advice, Jaime found the right words to reel his father into his proposal. But now, he spoke with his heart, "I've known her for years. She's been a friend of our family ever since she became Cersei's lady-in-waiting. She shares our desire to strengthen the family name and she's learned about Casterly Rock from listening to Cersei."

Approval is one of the very few emotions Tywin cared to possess, but he only bore it through his eyes. However, despite his inner excitement, he was no fool either, "And why should I agree to this proposition?"

"Because if you don't... I will tell everyone the truth."

"The truth?"

It was Jaime's turn to tilt his head as if fascinated by this questioning, "You don't know, do you? You never believed it. How is that possible?" Watching his father keep a hard gaze, unflinching, Jaime's eyes visibly show the realization, "What am I saying, of course, it's possible! How can someone so consumed by the idea of his family have any conception of what his actual family was doing? We were right there in front of you and you didn't see us. One look in the past twenty years, one real look at your own children and you would've known."

"Known what?" Tywin mutters, although keeps his expression neutral.

Jaime couldn't help the smirk on his face as he splashed his father with the cold, hard truth, "Everything they say is true about Cersei and me. Your legacy is a lie... until the day Y/n and I have children, of course."

Tywin's fists tighten around the arms of his chair but otherwise say nothing. Beaming with confidence, Jaime finally sat down across from him, as equals, "Our first son will be named after your father. And our first daughter..." Jaime conjures a sobering expression, carefully watching his father's eyes, "Will be named after Mother."

Another tilt of the old lion's head told Jaime he had him intrigued. Mentioning his mother always worked with his father, after all. Tywin let out a long breath through his nose but doesn't visibly admit his defeat otherwise. He grits out the terms and conditions through his teeth, "Just so we are clear... you will revoke your rights and vows as a Kingsguard. You will take back my name and bear my father's house colors. You will take Lady Y/n Arryn as your wife and father for each and every one of her children, squandering any disgusting rumors that have spread about you and your sister."

Jaime entertains his father with a rise of his eyebrows, "Of course."

"You will become Lord of Casterly Rock after my passing and your firstborn son will be named your heir, as will your second son should anything happen to the first, and so on and so forth. Any daughters you have will be given to properly matched suitors so that the Lannister legacy also lives on through other houses."

Jaime's good hand tightens, inwardly disgusted by his father already trying to sell off any granddaughter he might have when they don't even exist. He speaks with a tight voice in response, "Y/n and I will find suitable men for our daughters. Men who will care for them as needed and love whatever children our daughters give them."

"Your first son will be named Tytos II and your first daughter will be named Joanna II."

"Yes, yes," Jaime agrees while standing up, but makes sure to look Tywin in the eye with a small smile and the last laugh, "And our second son will be named Tyrion II."

~~~

Tywin kept his word -begrudgingly- and convinced Joffrey to release Jaime from his vows the very next day. Everyone at court was there as Joffrey stood in front of his throne and decided to throw in a few mocking comments about Jaime's incompetent hand while he was at it, but Jaime took the insults in stride and bowed for good measure. It may have bothered him to hear the quiet laughter all around him, but at the moment, he didn't care. He got what he wanted out of the laughing stock. Once Joffrey dismissed him, Tywin named Jaime his heir and then announced the union between Lord Jaime Lannister and Lady Y/n Arryn. Small surprised gasps filled the throne room, but otherwise, it was a moment of celebration. Y/n had crossed the room to stand beside Jaime when she was announced and even bowed before the King and his Hand in gratitude.

To say Cersei was enraged was an understatement. She tried breaking into her former lady-in-waiting's chambers, only to find a couple of guards posted in front of Y/n's room. Cersei then tried to summon Jaime to her, only to find Tywin at her door moments later. Her father forbade her from interacting with her brother and his betrothed until they left for Casterly Rock and then proceeded to demand she marry Loras Tyrell sooner than later so that these disgusting rumors could be left behind them. She had gone strangely mute and compliant after that, only speaking when spoken to and pouting as if she was a punished child. But Lord Tywin was no fool. If Cersei ever obeyed him, it usually meant she was plotting behind everyone's back. The Hand of the King planned Jaime's wedding to take place in the Sept, but then made no plans to throw a feast or following party. A simple wedding with no room for error... or poisoned wine.

Jaime and Y/n were married within a fortnight, exchanging new vows between each other and sealing those vows with a kiss for all in attendance to see. When they regrettably parted and turned to face their guests, Y/n held Jaime's golden hand while waving to the crowd and a part of Jaime felt reassured by that smallest gesture, despite not being able to feel her hand in his. Tywin didn't hesitate to send them both on their way to Casterly Rock, barely waiting for them to pack and leave that very same day. Jaime didn't speak a word against it, knowing how paranoid his father had become now that his grandchildren weren't legitimate and his legacy was in shambles. Lord Tywin would do anything for the family, even if it meant saving it from a jealous queen.

For a wedding gift, Tyrion Lannister gave his brother and his new sister-in-law a large, extravagant wagon to travel in on their way to the Westerlands. Within the wagon were red and gold cloths nearly lining up all the walls and floor, even the curtains. Underneath a seat was a secret, dry compartment filled with many expensive wine bottles, and in one corner lay a pile of pillows, cushions, and blankets. The Imp winked at his brother when watching Jaime's reaction, "You have a long journey ahead of you. I wanted you and your bride to be... comfortable. After all, we can't have you wait to consummate your marriage until you make it Casterly Rock, now can we?"

Despite the crude joke, Jaime laughed and hugged his little brother, partially sad because he was going to miss him. Tyrion held onto Jaime for a long time and then kissed Y/n's hand, "Until next time... Lady Lannister."

Y/n positively beamed under her new title. With short goodbyes to the rest of the farewell party, Jaime and Y/n leave in their new wagon with several of Tywin's best personal guards riding on horses alongside them. Once King's Landing fully disappeared behind them, Jaime opened the first bottle of wine and poured out two glasses. The newlyweds drank quietly, just enjoying each other's company, the worst being far behind them. After a time, Jaime stood at his full height, the ceiling of the wagon being large enough to do so, and held out his good hand to Y/n, "Might I have a dance, my lady?"

"You may, my lord," she took his hand and stood up with a wide, fond smile. As they stumbled and danced inside the moving carriage, neither said a word apart from laughing if they lurched forward when the wagon hit a bump or they tripped over one another's foot. With Jaime holding Y/n's hand with his good one and pulling her body tight to him with his golden one, he had felt more at peace than he ever did before he killed the Mad King. However, he starts to feel the loss of his limb again when he couldn't feel the warmth of Y/n's back against his missing fingers and palm, and earlier at their wedding, when he couldn't feel her hand in his.

"I want to hold you..." He found himself whispering in her ear.

She laughs under her breath, not grasping the distress in his voice quite yet as she leaned her head against his chest, "You are holding me."

"No, I-- I want to be able to hold you with both hands. That's all I ever wanted."

Y/n pulled her head away to stare up at her husband, recognizing the shame and humiliation shadowing his usual proud and golden features. His eyes tried to look away, but she raised her hand to cup his cheek gently, forcing him to keep their gaze locked. After a moment, Y/n smiled, "We can make that hand good for other things, Jaime."

"Like what?"

A twinkle in her eye causes Jaime's entire body to stiffen, his eyes carefully watching the way her lips moved as she smirked, "Like... how about I take that golden hand of yours and you watch me get myself off with it."

Despite his appearance, Jaime is old enough to be the father of a teenage king, and at this moment he felt his age catch up to him with how fast his heart was beating. He damn near thought he was going to have a heart attack and whatever showed on his face brought his new wife to laugh at him in his last moments. The sound alone could've brought Jaime to his knees if he wasn't holding Y/n for support. After her laughter died down, she lifted her hand to cup the back of his neck and pulled him down, greedily kissing him like he was the very oxygen she needed to breathe. Jaime's brain finally caught up with him and he kissed her back with equally fervent heat, taking his good hand to gently hold her face. With his eyes closed, he could feel his wife's hand wandering, leaving trails of burning need in her wake. Eventually, her fingers meet at the clasp of Jaime's gold hand and stay there, waiting.

Jaime opened his eyes to meet hers, finally realizing what she was doing. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to refuse, to step away from Y/n and exclaim that she deserved someone who could love her with both hands. Someone who could protect her with both hands, someone... who could hold any future children with both hands. Jaime wanted that for her, more than anything, but with the way she was looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, lashes kissing her skin when she slowly blinked, Jaime couldn't resist. He forces down all the negativity in his head and nods to her.

Y/n swiftly tilts up to kiss his mouth with reassurance before looking back down at her hands, carefully taking off the prosthetic hand. After some fiddling, the hand slides off and Y/n takes it, using both hands to hold it. Jaime watches with slight amazement, taking a moment to notice how large the prosthetic looked compared to Y/n's own. Horses outside trotting alongside the wagon draw Jaime back to reality, looking back up to inspect his wife's face. Her face was flushed and her breaths were irregular as she reached out to gently push Jaime back towards the pile of quilts and cushions.

"Lie back, husband," chills ran down Jaime's back from the way Y/n's voice lowered, "And watch me."

Jaime obeyed, only watching her facial features as she lay down beside him, her skirts lifted as she used the gold hand to circle and rub her clit. He watched her lips as soft moans and sighs left them, the way her eyes struggled to stay open when she hit a certain spot. He watched her chest rising and falling as she neared completion, her beautiful sounds rising in volume with her whole body beginning to shake in anticipation. When the last moan she released sounded like his name, Jaime felt his loss of control drain from his body. Without a care in the world, he grabbed his gold hand from her and tossed it aside, ravishing his wife's lips with his own as his one hand hurried to untie his breeches and prep his erection to full mass. He had forgotten why he felt ashamed in the first place as he slowly, finally, entered her, with her fingers finding perch in his hair, gasping up at the ceiling of the wagon. Y/n shamelessly moaned his name, begging him for more in between gasps and confessions.

Now, for the first time, in all the years they've loved one another, there was no need to keep that love quiet.

For hands of gold are always cold But a woman’s hands are warm

~~~

A/N: Wow, I... I really strayed off the path, didn’t I? The actual request didn’t even come in until the last part... I gotta stop doing that.

Comment, like, and reblog!

[sebsxphia]

Help I have a thot so rotten I need professional help.

Rhett is working and you rile him up - so.far so usual. At one point he snaps and ties you to a breeding stand and then proceed to mount you. All the while snarling how your going to be breed like an animal in heat when you act like one. No amount of pleading and begging will help you

￫ a/n: lemme fucking tell you something anon. i got this. read it. and was in shock for the next ten minutes. i love this so so so much it’s unhealthy 😵‍💫 welp! we’re going down!

￫ c/w: rhett using derogatory language towards the reader, comparing you to an animal in heat, rhett being mean and degrading to you, cnc, p in v, daddy kink, manhandling you, what’s in the ask is what you’re gonna get.

you’re both working in the barn through the afternoon, moving hay and other supplies, cleaning out the horses and keeping the rest of the livestock in check. the humid summer heat has past it’s highest point since midday, but you’re both still struggling through the heat. it’s unbearably hot inside your stuffy barn and understandably, you’re both agitated.

every so often when you pass by rhett, you squeeze at his bulging biceps or at his crotch that’s already supporting a semi from your heated touches. he lets out a low grumble the fifth time you pass him by and you mock pout at him.

“what is it, daddy?” you elongate the last part of your wording with a flirtatious touch and bat your eyelashes teasingly at him.

rhett’s jaw is set firm as he scowls at you. his eyebrows are knitted tightly together in frustration as he bites back at you. “quit it. you’re actin’ like a fuckin’ whore right now and it ain’t helping.”

“but, daddy—” you whine out again, but rhett is there to cut you off instantly.

“enough. fuckin’ help me finish this and maybe, i’ll be nice to y’ later.”

his tone is firm and unwavering, and you should know better than to push him, but you excuse the heat for your lack of better judgement.

“fuckin’ fine. i’m goin’ inside and finishing myself off, somethin’ you can’t do.”

that snaps the final cord of patience that rhett has inside of him for you. he’s quick to grab at your forearm with a bruising grip as you leave the barn. you yelp out and struggle against him as he manhandles you, pushing you closer to a corner of the barn. it overwhelms you how strong he can be. your thrashing is no use.

your eyes are wide when you see him dragging you closer to a breeding stand, yet you feel the inside of your stomach somersault at the prospect of what rhett is suggesting. you still go along with it however, pleading with desperation as he ties you to the breeding stand.

“r-rhett? what are you fuckin’ doin’?!” you land with a final thud as rhett pushes your neck down to rest on the head stand that would be used for animals. you’re bent over and on all fours, with your feet teetering and scraping along the hay covered floor. your dress is flipped over your ass and you feel rhett’s hot and calloused fingers hook inside your underwear and tear them completely from your frame.

“if you’re gon’ act like an animal in heat,” rhett’s voice behind you is an ugly snarl, his teeth biting at one another. “i’m goin’ to be breedin’ you like an animal in heat.”

you hear his belt buckle clang against itself before a harsh smack is delivered to your exposed ass and the backs of your thighs. in reaction, you let out a cry that ends with an embarrassing moan. you hate yourself for being so incredibly aroused by this, but you don’t hate yourself for playing into his fucked up little fantasy.

his hands grip tightly at the flesh of your hips as he mounts you like an animal himself. you let out another pleading moan as you feel his tip push through your folds.

“rhett! please, please—” you’re begging and pleading with him, but you don’t know what for.

another curt smack is issued to your ass as he stuffs himself full inside of you. “animals in heat don’t get a say in this, quit your whinin’ or i’ll stuff your mouth with a horse bit.”

[afterair]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒����𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃

DIABOLIK LOVERS + INTRODUCTION.

 ❬ WORD COUNT: ❭ 3000

❬ WARNINGS: ❭ Mention of sexual and mental abuse , neglect , manipulation , experimentation , human sacrafice and metaphorical mentions / canon backstory of the Sakamaki household : all information gathered from anime , games and wikipedia.

sakamaki - ' reverse winding '

EVE / THE CHURCH BRIDE

' 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄. 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒, 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄. 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐒𝐎 𝐈 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 '

𝐊𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐈 ⎯⎯ ( 小森 ユイ )

' Komori Yui ' , the last known ( living ) sacrificial bride , ' Eve '

She was bought to the Sakamaki household at Karlheinz will , he wishes for her to choose one of his sons to become Adam - later killing him and becoming the king and queen of the demonic world.

a short young women with curly platinum blonde hair and sherbet-pink coloured eyes. Komori Yui is often seen wearing a button-up dress shirt with a frilly neckline with her black school blazer over the top , beneath her blazer is a white bow that rests through the V shaped neckline of the vest she wears with another bow coloured red , tied to her neck above the other bow.

Komori Yui can rarely be found by herself , even in the bathroom - there is a vampire on the other side waiting ( sometimes ) , but she can be found by following a vampire. At the Sakamaki mansion, she can be found in her bedroom or with a vampire. ( if in doubt , find a vampire )

Komori Yui is an extremely unlucky young woman. Komori Seiji is her adopted father , taking her in after being given to him by Sakamaki Richter - Karlheinz’s brother , Sakamaki Ritcher was also the lover of Cordelia and after her being pushed from the balcony , at her request : he cut out her heart and implanted it into the Eve. When Komori Yui was seventeen , she was told that her father was moving abroad and she was to be sent to Japan to live with another family , she later finds out that she was adopted when she finds Komori Seiji’s diary and , that she was given as a sacrifice.

Has multiple nicknames - is nicknamed by ,

Sakamaki Ayato , ' Pancake / Breastless ' : Chichinashi

Sakamaki Raito , ' Little Bitch ' : Bitch-chan

Mukami Ruki , ' Livestock ' : Kachiku

Mukami Kou , ' Masochistic Kitten ' : M Neko-Chan

Mukami Yuma , ' Sow ' : Mesubuta

Mukami Azusa and Karlheinz , ' Eve '

MENIS / THE SON OF WRATH

' 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐙𝐙 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄. '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐔 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 スバル )

' Sakamaki Subaru ' , the sixth born son and the youngest legitimate child.

He is the youngest of the Sakamaki brothers , he is the only son of Christa ( third wife ) and Karlheinz and has no siblings.

a pale man with light-lavender hair that reached below his ears , shades of deep rouge filling his eyes with a slight pinkish hue. Sakamaki Subaru wears a silver necklace with a tight black shirt and a longer white shirt beneath with rips that hang over his hips , he wears the school blazer over the top with the sleeves just below his elbows where a small silver looped chain rests on the bottom left side of his jacket.

Sakamaki Subaru can be spotted alone in the back of his classes or alone in the cafeteria with a scowl on his face. Or , at the Sakamaki household , he can be spotted in the gardens or the greeting room ( he will never be there for long )

Sakamaki Subaru is known as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ because of his quick temper when it comes to ‘ mild annoyances. ‘ As a child , Sakamaki Subaru was doomed from the beginning and any prospects of having a happy childhood were taken before his birth , his mother , Christa was mentally ill and bipolar because of her husband / cousin ( however , she often thought of him as her ‘ kind big brother. ‘ ) Karlheinz sought out his cousin , Christa , in order to conduct an experiment on incest born children and when she learnt of this - she began to hate and love her husband as he was ‘ her kind big brother ‘ and the man that dirtied her , while loathing her unborn son because he was ‘ something impure that could ruin her beauty. ‘ When ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ was born , Christa demonstrated extremely destructive traits and often belittled and degraded her son , calling him a ‘filthy abomination ‘ and asking him to kill her repeatedly to be done with her life - because of the degradation , Sakamaki Subaru grew up believing he was unwanted and a monster. For a long time , the youngest son believed it to be his father’s fault that his mother was ‘ broken ‘ and tried to protect her , when he did so - she slapped him across the face and ran into her cousin’s arms : demonstrating that at that moment , she was not entirely influenced by Karlheinz and giving her son trust issues , making him believe all women were ‘ two-faced ‘ or liars. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ soon began to believe that she simply hated him and did not ever want him , he was only a monster to her - because of the lack of support and refusing his ideologies , he turned to anger to deal with his sadness and is extremely destructive. 

EPITHUMIA / THE SON OF LUST

' 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒. '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐎 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 ライト )

' Sakamaki Laito ' , the fifth born son , regarded as the ' perverted brother '

He is the youngest born triplet of Cordelia ( first wife ) and Karlheinz , Younger brother to Sakamaki Ayato and Sakamaki Kanato.

a slender man with shoulder-length reddish coloured hair that faded into a lighter blonde and shares the same piercing green eyes as his older brother, Sakamaki Ayato ; he is often seen with a fedora pulled above his eyes , slanting down and a grin on his face. His uniform consists of a black jacket with faux fur imbedded into the hood , an unbutton dress shirt ,and a skinny , black tie around the collar.

Sakamaki Raito can be found by listening to the moans or elated screams of the young women and men who follow him around. He can be seen wandering hallways or sitting in his selected classes. In the Sakamaki mansion , he can be heard playing his piano or watching over the household from shadowed corners.

Sakamaki Raito is regarded as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜꜱᴛ because of his lewd actions and perverted mindset which was evidently , caused by his mother. As a child , Sakamaki Ratio was the firstborn son but soon had two younger brothers - he became the youngest triplet due to japans culture. Sakamaki Ratio had a lot of free time as a child because he had no ‘ responsibilities ‘ like his brothers during the day , but , as Sakamaki Raito got older - Cordelia found a different ‘ use ‘ of him. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜꜱᴛ and Cordelia began an incestuous relationship when the youngest triplet became of age , Cordelia used sexual and mental manipulation to believe that the intimate touches that they shared , were acts of love. Sakamaki Raito never outright told anyone but , ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ had suspicions. However , their father - Karlheinz , quickly found out , ( most probably by Cordelia teasing the relationship to gain some sort of jealous reaction from her unaffected husband ) and punished the young boy by forcing him to remain in the dungeons : Cordelia sought to break her children’s minds and make them succumb to her whims out of devotion and started to make Sakamaki Raito jealous when she visited the dungeons to torment her son , saying she had ‘ found another ‘ and was having ‘ entertainments ‘ with someone else ( demonstrating to Sakamaki Raito that he was not special and she was not his lover , against his own thoughts. ) This was further pushed when she had these ' entertainments ' in front of him , this caused Sakamaki Raito's warped perception of love. When Cordelia had relations with other people , he saw that as cheating on him and often killed them out of jealousy , later on gifting them to Sakamaki Kanato to mutilate. Once Cordelia was reaching her end by the eldest triplet’s hands , she ran to ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜꜱᴛ for him to save her : she stated that she only had love for her husband and she would kill him , as he would kill her - ( killing a vampire , as a vampire , is an ultimate form of love ) this caused for Sakamaki Raito to push her off of a balcony and down to the gardens , where she was burnt by the second born triplet.

ADEPHAGIA / THE SON OF GLUTTONY

' 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄. '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐎 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 カナト )

' Sakamaki Kanato ' , the fourth born son , and owner of a room full of wax brides.

He is the second born triplet of Cordelia ( first wife ) and Karlheinz , Younger brother to Sakamaki Ayato and older brother to Sakamaki Laito.

a short boy with light purple hair and the eyes to match : Sakamaki Kanato has dark under-eyes and an uncomfortable smile normally plastered on his face. His clothes that are typically worn are a white vintage dress shirt with a ruff styled collar , and dark plum waistcoat

He is never seen without his beloved teddy bear , ' Teddy ' .

Sakamaki Kanato can be found inside his classes at the designated times as he isn't big on causing trouble unless insulted at Ryoutei Academy. However , at the Sakamaki household , Sakamaki Kanato can be found in his own room or his private room - where he keeps his wax figures.

Sakamaki Kanato is nicknamed as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ɢʟᴜᴛᴛᴏɴʏ because he is a glutton for being the sole focus of somebodies attention. During Sakamaki Kanatos’s childhood , he was desperate for a sliver of attention from his mother since he never received it no matter what act of desperation he performed - however , he was only called upon when Cordelia wanted him to sing ‘ Scarborough fair ‘ for her ( only asked for him to sing because it aroused her ) which he did , happily. Cordelia however , often had affairs with different men in order to get Karlheinz’s attention and at some point in time , Cordelia received a ‘ teddy ‘ bear from a lover and gave it to her second-born, this led to ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ɢʟᴜᴛᴛᴏɴʏ becoming infatuated with the gift and separating himself from his brothers. Sakamaki Kanato , like his brothers - soon began to resent Cordelia because she did not shower him in affection , because of this resentment; he helped his brothers in finishing her off when Sakamaki Ayato was hunting her and Sakamaki Raito threw her off of the balcony - he found her battered body and lit her alight with a flame. 

" Hysteric " ( ヒステリック- Hisuterikku ) - Sakamaki Ayato

HUPEREPHANOS / THE SON OF PRIDE

' 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 アヤト )

' Sakamaki Ayato ' , the third born , household troublemaker and refers to himself as ' ORE - SAMA '

Eldest triplet son of Cordelia ( first wife ) and Karlheinz , Older brother to Sakamaki Laito and Sakamaki Kanato.

a tall boy with reddish coloured hair and piercing green eyes and a small stud in his right ear ; is often seen with an undone red tie wrapped around his fair neck. His uniform consists of a half done-up cotton shirt , a black blazer and black pants with the right leg pulled to his knee.

Sakamaki Ayato can always be found yelling in a classroom , ridiculing those who insulted his strength , in the cookery room trying to force a student to make him his favourite dish if he cannot find Komori Yui or , in the gym hall - showing off to anyone who would watch. However , in the Sakamaki mansion , he can often be found in the living room with his ' younger ' brothers : plotting a prank or berating them for taking humour in his self appointed nickname ' Ore - Sama '.

Sakamaki Ayato is seen as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ because of his attitude towards others and his brothers. During his ‘ adult ‘ life , Sakamaki Ayato has presented himself as a narcissistic troublemaker with an acumen for others’ misery however , this was all caused by his mother because of the responsibility she threw onto his young shoulders. Sakamaki Ayato was a very blunt young boy and would often complain to his mother’s face when separated from his ‘ younger ‘ brothers and was forced into studies without further argument ( similar to how the ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴏᴛʜ was treated by his own mother ) as he was desperate for Cordelia's affection and praise. Soon , because of all the neglect and psychological abuse - his need and desperation for pride was tainted and his views on Cordelia became abhorrent , this lead to him hunting down Cordelia and injuring her - she later on died by his brothers hands.

' worthless boys must spend eternity at the cold, damp, bottom of the lake, all alone where no one can help them ' - Cordelia : ( his punishment was often being dropped to the bottom of the lake , this is how his fear of water ( thalassophobia / aquaphobia ) was developed.

PHTHONOS / THE SON OF ENVY

' 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 レイジ )

' Sakamaki Reiji ' , the second born , self appointed ' manager ' of the Sakamaki household and works as the heir , a job that Sakamaki Shuu should be partaking in.

son to Beatrix ( second wife )and Karlheinz , Younger brother to Sakamaki Shuu.

a slender young man with dark plum hair ( fades to blonde at the tips ) and pale magenta eyes ; is often seen with a pair of white gloves on and rectangular glasses with silver frames. His outfit is typically formal wear that consists of a black shirt , a grey toned vest and deep plum waistcoat paired with a purple string neck tie.

Sakamaki Reiji can always be found in his classroom at the correct times or patrolling the hallways looking for his brothers if he has no obligations , making sure the Sakamaki name is not tarnished and does not provide an unwelcome visit or scolding off of his father. In the Sakamaki mansion , he can often be found in his room with his chemical instruments and drinking tea or reading a book in a sitting room , away from his elder brother.

The antisocial pessimist , Sakamaki Reiji is seen as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴇɴᴠʏ because of his childhood and how he was treated by Beatrix. Sakamaki Reiji is an ambitious man and so , as a child , he was encouraged to study by his mother to become the best ' right-hand man '  his elder brother could have - ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴇɴᴠʏ felt shadowed in his brother’s glow and that he could never match up to Sakamaki Shuu in his mother’s eyes. Sakamaki Reiji developed a deep loathing for his older brother throughout his childhood because he never received the attention and dedication that his brother received from their mother and decided , in a fit of half thought out jealousy , sought out to burn Edgar’s village to the ground. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴇɴᴠʏ felt that this would gain the praise of his mother and recite some sort of responsibility onto his brother , to show him how careless he was. However , this had adverse effects and didn’t alter the relationship between himself and his mother , this caused a bitter taste to settle on the second borns conscious so , he then sought to be rid of his mother and hired a vampiric hunter to be rid of his mother and hired a vampiric hunter to be rid of her. She died with a proud smile on her face.

" tableware otaku " ( セブングラス shichisan megane ) - Sakamaki Ayato : ( collects tea sets and tableware )

ACEDIA / THE SON OF SLOTH

' 𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐄 '

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐔 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ( 逆巻 シュウ )

' Sakamaki Shuu' , the eldest brother , the heir to the Sakamaki household , and master of the Sakamaki mansion.

son to Beatrix ( second wife ) and Karlheinz , Older brother to biological brother Sakamaki Reiji.

a young man with curled blonde hair and light blue eyes ; constantly has earphones in his ears and is seen with his MP3 player ( attached to a wire that is wrapped around his pale neck ) , his outfit is typically a beige sweater and unbuttoned white dress shirt with his school blazer over the top, resting on his shoulders ; like a blanket.

Sakamaki Shuu is often found asleep in two places - on a stairwell or more likely , the music room in a far back corner of the school as he is never interrupted by other students in Ryoutei Academy , he is also surrounded by instrument's he can play at his will. However , at the Sakamaki mansion , he is often seen in his bathtub or the living room - asleep with his earphones in to silence the ruckus of his brothers.

Sakamaki Shuu is regarded as ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴏᴛʜ because of his mannerisms and regular attitude throughout his adult life. As a child , his mother Beatrix saw him as a ' win ' in the competition with the first wife , this led to Beatrix pushing Sakamaki Shuu to become barricaded with responsibilities and lessons - as a result of this , he often ran to the village where he became friends with a young human boy , Edgar , who was a source of peace for the young master. Beatrix became deeply upset whenever her eldest ran away and this caused the second-born son , seeking her approval and out of pure jealousy , to burn the human boys village to the ground. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴏᴛʜ watched his friend desperately run to save his parents and never come back out , this caused the eldest fear of fire ' pyrophobia ' and , he soon began to develop his own world of comforts to soothe the ache of his best friend - he quickly shut himself off from his family and developed a apathetic view on the world and didn’t concern himself on mortal concerns. 

" good-for-nothing " ( 役に立たない - Yakunitatanai ) - Sakamaki Reiji

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