#tw being restricted to a space

[rhythm-catsandwine]

Vent about a not-fun situation, that one would think I could fix but can't for reasons...... partly due to trauma response. But other parts NOT!

I will delet later.

Soooo a few followers/mutuals know most of my life situations and absolute hell that I have endured.

I live with my two youngest cousins. And the youngest cousin's gf. We live in a house owned by my aunt and uncle. Three of us pay rent. The third does not for a few reasons. Even though she could.

She has groups of friends over often. There are only two bathrooms. One with a good shower and one with a shity one. The good one is shared by me and one cousin and her. She has at least 4 people over for parts. she is oddly protective or something about her friends being over. She moved in because of a abusive situation. So Idk if she was able to do stuff like this. So I understand if that is the case.

They are friendly and have never said that they wanted me to leave or said anything els along those lines. But I pick up on energies and vibes. It feels like I'm intruding or taking up space. But that's part due to trauma. But also not...because of the energies that I cant really figure out except part is the intruding but other is something I don't know. IF that makes sense.

But here is the deal...They are usually in our bathroom. I get that they do hair stuff like coloring each others hair or something of those lines. I get there are at least 5 people for that bathroom. But they are almost always in there or one of them is. I get with drinking and stuff that's going to happen. But I have been walking most of the day and doing other stuff outside . I have to keep sunscreen on cus of my meds and risk of skin cancer. I hadn't taken a shower yet. I was able to get a couple washcloths and clean up for the most part. But I do want a shower. Worst comes to it I can put towles down to sleep in bed. I could shower in the other bathroom but I'm really not supposed to.

I have also not eaten much today. Only 1000 calories. I eat mostly meat for my RA. Only problem is one of the friends is vegan. They are triggered by some smells and sights of meat. So I can't warm my stuff in the microwave. All I can eat is a few protein bars or make a protein shake in a shaker bottle. I don't have money to go eat somewhere....even just a rotisserie chicken, and I can not eat lunch meat. IDK if these people are spending the night or not. And it's too awkward to ask.

I will be fine. I know how to survive in situations like this. But it fucking sucks!

[noxcheshire]

Okay so I know everyone wants to make it so that Danny comes from a dimension that doesn’t have a/b/o dynamics but what if he did but that people within his home dimension evolved in a way that those features just locked themselves away.

And it continued going on through the ages, causing this evolutionary change to simply never come back.

However, for those like the DC world where a/b/o is fully active and functional they can tell that Danny is meant to HAVE a scent but that it has been blocked in a way that can only be caused by neglect so extreme that the ‘pup’ chooses to hide even from themselves.

Cue Danny running from well meaning but to him, creepy as hell people that want to SNIFF HIM back off fruitloops! and it’s just a hurdle of misunderstandings and angst. He’s choosing to fight them every step of the way, panicking every time they try and cuddle him, and hold him, and ‘scent’ him, never once listening to his boundaries or angry reactions.

Instead they coo, all sad eyes and determined jerks of the chin as they manhandle Danny through ‘puppy rehabilitation’.

And Danny is scared.

He’s scared because just yesterday a rumbling purr came from his throat when he was dragged into a ‘puppy pile’. A weird warmth that bubbled at his chest and for one horrifying moment even thought this is nice.

He’s loosing himself in whatever weirdness comes from this world, and he doesn’t know if he can stop it from changing him and wanting this.

dc x dp prompt

So I just got into the dc x dp fandom very head strong and I’ve been reading dc x dp fics left and right, some of the fics containing a/b/o dynamics and I just had a thought what if Danny one day took a trip to the DC universe and this universe had the a/b/o dynamics

Danny: I am a traumatized teenager that is alone and is totally normal

Adopting orphans left and right Bruce Wayne: don’t worry pup I’ll take care of you, you’re obviously neglected due to you’re having no parental scent

Danny: STRANGER DANGER, There’s a child sniffing pervert on the loose protect your childern(runs away)

Bruce Wayne: ???

Bruce Wayne: was it something I said.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty nine

authors note: it's all coming together...

cw/tw: fluff, angst, suspense, discussion regarding sexual assault and incest

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

cast + masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 8k

There’s a calm that befalls Solana and Roman following her discharge from the hospital. A welcomed respite from the chaos that’s consumed the both of them in the past couple of weeks. 

A space of peace and appreciation following the scariest of things.

Solana was truly convinced that she was going to lose her babies, a loss so catastrophic, she’s not certain what recovery from said catastrophe would look like. 

What that would mean for herself and her marriage.

But, it was avoided. A horrific scare, at best. A scare that somehow helped husband and wife have much needed, long overdue conversations. Even the argument between them that preceded the scare. Though she regrets that it ever reached that point, there’s a part of her that is happy it occurred. It allowed for the demolition of a budding wall of mistrust between them. 

Demolition that was a must for their marriage to continue to grow and strengthen. 

And, it will.

Because she loves this man and what they’ve built too much to watch it all fall apart.

They owe each other that much.

Most importantly, for their girls. 

The day Solana is released is spent almost entirely with her laying in bed with Roman, the two of them embracing both each other and the solitude and comfort found in once another. A necessary thing, given all that transpired.

But also, something that Roman largely attributes to the doctor’s orders that she take the next couple weeks “easy.”

That seems to be something, however, that her husband has taken perhaps a bit too literally. 

He doesn’t want her doing anything outside of showering and using the bathroom. Dulce needs to go outside? He handles it. They need to eat something? He reaches out to his private chef and has meals delivered. She wants some air? He sits with her out on their balcony. 

Thoughtful and kind is his dedication to making sure she follows the doctor’s orders both for herself and the pregnancy, but it’s also….a lot.

It’s why she tries to make her “great escape” while he’s napping. They both were, but she woke up to find him still asleep, providing her the out she needed.

Solana makes it downstairs and into the kitchen, is even able to settle on the dish she wants to make for them, a small smile of satisfaction on her face as she relishes in her victory.

“What are you doing up?"

Damn.

Solana turns around to find her scowling husband standing before her with his arms crossed.

“Baby,” she smiles nervously. “You’re up.”

His expression is unwavering. “Yeah, and you shouldn’t be.”

Sighing, she walks over to him. “Roman….” Solana moves her hands up down his broad chest, trying her best to help him understand this in the simplest of terms. “I’m on pelvic rest. Not bed rest. They’re—they’re different, baby.”

“Close enough,” he shrugs. Solana’s shoulders slump as does the small smile that was on her face. “In bed.”

“Ro,” she whines. “I was in the bed in the hospital. I’ve been in bed since we got home. I’m tired of being in the bed. I need to move around.”

“Didn’t you go to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Then you moved around.”

She closes her eyes. “Roman.”

“It’s bad enough your ass was picking up and holding Dulce. She weighs more than your weight restrictions.”

Solana’s eyes widens. “She’s five pounds, Roman.”

“Exactly. Anything five and over is too much.”

With another heavy sigh, Solana goes for a different approach. “Roman?”

“Yes?”

A warm smile, soft voice, and pleading eyes. “I love you. I love you so much, but I think….I think you’re being a little too much.”

He looks absolutely baffled. "I’m following the doctor’s orders.”

Solana makes a sound, head nodding side to side to depict her not outright agreeing with his statement. “That’s….debatable.”

Roman rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out his back pocket. “Since we’re on the subject, I made a list of some of the things we need to change while you’re pregnant.”

Somehow, someway, Solana already knows this list is just going to be another continuation of his extreme overprotectiveness. “Oh?” Roman unlocks the phone and navigates to something, handing it to her to reveal a list in the notes app. Solana is more surprised by the length of said list than anything. Her finger keeps moving to scroll. “Ro, how—how long is this?”

He shrugs. “It was while you were sleeping at the hospital. I was bored and had the time.”

Solana stops when she catches wind of one of the suggestions being ‘no cooking for the twins.’

That most definitely has nothing to do with the pregnancy. 

With a gentle smile, she places the phone on the counter and moves her hands up his chest, asking in a soft voice, “Roman, how are you?” 

A fair, valid question, because the past few weeks have been a bit of a storm for both of them, but in the middle of said storm she cannot and will not forget the presence and impact of his grief. 

He looks visibly taken back by her changing of topics but eventually moves his hand down to hers, guiding them into the living room where he sits down on the sofa and carefully pulls her down next to him. 

She starts to ask him another question when he reaches for the coffee table where a stack of papers are spread.

Her stomach twists. She knows exactly what said papers are. 

Roman is the one surprising her this time when he hands them to her, sharing, “I want you to read it.”

Naturally, she’s shaking her head, refusing to accept it. “Roman, no. Fetu left it for you.”

“And I want to share it with you,” he pushes back, offering, “it’s easier for you to read it than it is for me….for to me to explain.”

That, she most definitely understands. It’s a large reason why she wants to have him read her letter from her mom.

It truly is easier that way. 

Still, Solana has to ask one more time. “Are—are you sure?”

There’s not an ounce of hesitation in his voice nor on his face. “Yes.”

Another deep breath as she finally accepts the letter, taking a second before allowing her eyes to take in the words from beyond this world. 

Roman,

My sweet, big eared boy.

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. Go figure. 

I imagine you’re upset and sad, and that’s okay. It’s like I’ve always told you, you have feelings, and it’s okay to have them.

But, I’m also going to tell you something I haven’t told you in years, you have a big heart, Roman. A good heart, and it’s never made you weak. It’s always been your greatest strength. 

But, I know they tried their best to strip you of that, and Roman, in many ways. they did. By keeping me from you for so many years. Rikishi’s big ass knew I would work my damn hardest to help you keep your humanity, because you are so much more than what they tried to turn you into.

You are not an unfeeling killer. You are a young man who lost so much as a young boy. Who was always expected to be perfect. That’s why I tried so hard to just encourage you to be a kid, to be human, to recognize it’s okay to have feelings. 

Now, for the truth.

Roman, I’m tired. 

I’ve been tired for the past few years. Especially since the diagnosis. The thought of dying and not remembering my family, remembering you, is something I can’t accept.

I want to leave on my terms, with the love and all the memories I have for you, for Ava, for this life I’ve been blessed to live. 

But, I’ve held on this long because my prayer has always been the same. That my days would be extended long enough to make sure you’d be okay once I’ve passed. Because I’ve never wanted to leave you alone. 

And now I don’t have to, because you have Solana.

She is the one I’ve been praying for. The one to make sure I don’t have to leave you alone in this cold world.

She’s your soulmate, Roman. In every sense of the word. You must stay with her, no matter what. Do not push her away. You need her just as much as she needs you. You’re especially going to need her when I’m gone. 

But not just her. 

Roman, I am going to ask something of you that I know you’re not going to like, but I really don’t care, because it’s what you need.

You need to establish a relationship with your brother. I know that’s always been a sensitive subject for you, no thanks to that mother of yours, but true family is everything. We were not meant to be alone in this world. 

You need more than just Solana. 

We lost so much, yes, but with Matteo, there is hope. I know there is a lot of pain and hurt and rejection there, but both of you were victims of the politics in this life we live. 

You need Solana, but you need your brother, too.

It is my dying wish that you try to form some kind of relationship with him.

I am leaving you something in return though. There is a key included in this envelope. I'm sure your perceptive ass has seen it already. In the GREEN trunk in my closet, NOT the blue one, trust me—you don’t wanna know what’s in there—you’ll find a stack of letters I wrote to you all those years we were separated. And beyond. Life lessons. Silly shit. Reflecting on good times. All of the things. Something you’ll always have from me.

This is actually my last letter I will write to you, and it’s to say goodbye. 

Roman, know that I am sad to go. Sad that I will not be around to meet your children, but I have no doubt you will be an amazing father. You and Solana will break the cycle of generational dysfunction from before you. 

As I said, I am tired. It is time for me to rest, and I can finally do so knowing that you will continue to be just as loved, if not more, as I have always loved you. 

You may have been Nakoa and Viviana’s son, but you’ve always been and always will be my boy.

Love, 

Fetu

By the time Solana finishes reading, her eyes are teary and her mind is all over the place. She looks over at her quiet husband. “Roman….”

As with her letter from her mom, there is so much to process. Fetu wanting to die. Her leaving behind an abundance of letters for Roman, so he’ll always have a part of her. The part about Matteo, which is, arguably, the most shocking section for her.

She thought Roman and the man resembled each other in an almost uncanny way, but she could have never guessed that they were brothers. 

So, not only does she have a brother she didn’t know about, but Roman has one he does and has known about but doesn’t claim?

He must be reading her face well, because he immediately moves into explaining that part in particular. “I’m sorry I lied to you about who Matteo is, but…..” He starts, looking off, clearly uncomfortable with this discussion but most likely knowing it needs to happen. “That’s hard for me. My mother…..our mother never tried to hide the fact that he was the son she wanted. That he…..he was the one she loved.” 

Solana’s chest tightens as she moves closer to him, placing the letter down on the coffee table and holding onto his arm. “Roman, I’m—I’m sure your mom loved you in her own way.”

He still doesn’t look at her as he calmly counters, “she loved what she thought I could do for her one day.” Solana’s confusion is short-lived as he offers further explanation. “My mother loved Matteo’s father, but he was a commoner and Turkish, so it was forbidden. But, she didn’t care, and they maintained this secret relationship that ended in a pregnancy.” Matteo. “They got found out, so my mother’s father had him tortured and killed. And my mother’s punishment was to be sent off to America and married off to my father, who she never loved.”

Solana tightens her hold on Roman’s arm, asking, “and Matteo?”

He sits up, still not looking at her but reclining further back into the sofa. “He stayed in Italy and was raised by distant relatives.” She can see the way his jaw clenches and feel the tension building in his big body. “She wanted me to eventually be the one to kill my grandfather. To make him pay for what he did to her, who he took from her. It’s why she pushed me so hard to be….what I’ve become.” He finally turns to her, turmoil and conflict written all over his face. “She loved that I could one day be her key to revenge.” 

The more Solana learns about Roman’s past and his upbringing, the more and more sense he makes. She realized this a while ago, but once again, she’s seeing just how stacked the cards were against him. 

Leaning against him, she kisses his shoulder, murmuring, “baby, I’m so sorry.”

It’s a minute before he says anything. “Matteo hasn’t….he’s never actually done anything to warrant my dislike or distrust, but acknowledging him as my brother is….hard for me.”

She can see that, and she has a good guess at to why. Because Matteo had the one thing she’d suspect Roman wanted at one point in his life, especially as a child.

His mother’s love.

With a heavy sigh, she does her best to be respectful of his boundaries while also honoring Fetu’s final wishes. “Fetu….she knew you well, Ro.” He swallows, hand moving to her knee. “And I think…..I think she was right to encourage you to develop a relationship with Matteo.” He looks toward her, Solana going to clarify. “In your own timing, of course, but I do—I do think you should at least try.”

The eye contact is short-lived, as he looks away, Solana opting to give him a bit of a respite. She moves her hand atop his, sharing, “we should go get the trunk tomorrow.” His gaze falls on her once more. “Those letters she left you….they need to be here. In our home. With you.”

Specifically in the library he created just for her. A shared space. Their space.

Roman doesn’t say anything, just nods, clearly still feeling a myriad of emotions. She just moves even closer to him, continuing to hold onto him, mumbling an “I love you” followed up with and, “we’re going to get through this.”

Because, they will. 

She’s going to make sure of it. 

Because she loves him too much for them not to.

Because, as Fetu said, they’re soulmates. 

————

It takes some convincing, but Solana is eventually able to talk her husband into an outing. An essential one, given it’s a grocery trip, but a trip, nonetheless.

She can tell it’d be beneficial for him to get out the house. 

Upon arriving, Solana thought the parking lot was pretty empty outside of a few black SUV’s that she recognizes to be Bloodline. Security. However, it’s not until they’re actually inside the grocery that she realizes how much of a ghost town the place really is.

As Roman pulls out the cart for her, Solana asks, “where is everyone?”

To which he answers so simply, “I had it closed off for us.” She accepts the cart, placing her purse down in the kid’s seat. “Bloodline only.”

Ahh. That would definitely explain it. “Roman, was that—was that really necessary?”

“Sure was.” He doesn’t even need to think about her question. 

Sighing, she tries from a different angle. “I–I go grocery shopping all the time without it being shut down.” With her security detail, of course, but that’s always been more than enough to help her get there and back without issue.

“That was before.” He doesn’t need to add on the noun, the pregnancy component. “This is now.” She sighs and begins to lead the way, as he adds, “besides, you know I don’t like being around people.” Rolling her eyes, a small smile falls on her face when he’s behind her, arms around her waist, face nuzzled in the side of her neck, “except for one….”

“I’ve noticed,” she giggles, stealing a kiss on his cheek before redirecting them. “Okay, come on.” Solana digs in her purse and pulls out her phone, unlocking it and opening the notes app where she completed her grocery list shortly before they left the house. Handing him the phone, she instructs, “read these off for me, so we don’t forget anything.”

Back at her side, a scowl falls on his face as he uses his finger to scroll through said list. “Solana, how much food are you getting?” 

Solana turns to him, one hand on her hip. “Ro, do you have any idea how much you eat?” And, of course, he looks at her with his brow lifted, evoking a blush from her. “You know what I mean.” Clearing her throat, she explains, “between you, Jimmy, and Jey—”

“Don’t worry about them,” he interrupts, expression and voice hardening. “They don’t need to be over at the house anymore. At least, not for a while.”

Solana frowns, extending her hand to stop them from walking. Turning to him, she asks straight up, “Ro, what’s going on between ya’ll?” Before he can protest, she reminds, “we promised we were going to be honest with each other.”

He’s quiet, Solana seeing her reminder stir something in him. With a reluctant sigh, he responds, “when I confronted Rikishi for how he acted with you, they were there, and it….it was ugly.”

“How ugly?”

Forever perceptive with her husband and all his tell-tales, Solana doesn’t miss the anger—and hurt—that flashes in his eyes. “Jey and Solo took his dad’s side. Jimmy seemed more unbiased, but that’s still his brother. And Jey and I still haven’t been….fine….since your party.”

She winces. A hurtful reminder of that awful turn in events. “Roman, I really am sorry for that. If I had known things were bad between Jey and Sami—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Sol.” Roman sighs, mouth shifting as he continues to share, “my relationship with Jey…..it’s complicated. It always has been.”

Solana chews on her bottom lip. “I know….I know he challenged you a lot when you guys were younger, that—that he challenged you for the ula fala at some point.” Roman looks, understandably, surprised by her knowledge. He doesn’t inquire as to how she knows, however, just continues to listen. “I know the twins get on your nerves a lot, but I also know you do value them, so it’s a bit hard for me to see….to see you all like this.”

Because, it is. Because for all the times she’s seen her husband get annoyed with his cousins, she’s also overheard and witnessed normal, friendly interactions. The three of them discussing sports, talking about their shared love of football, and even reflecting on experiences from when they were kids.

It hasn’t all been bad, which is why she’s partially appalled to see where they are right now. 

In a small voice, she adds with a slight shrug, “I guess I thought….thought your relationship was stronger than that.”

“So did I.” It pains Solana to hear the sadness brewing underneath the surface level neutrality in that response. 

Holding onto his arm, she offers an encouraging smile, “you’ll all figure it out.” 

There’s a spark of maybe hope that fades into that typical indifference. “It doesn’t matter.” She sighs, as he moves his hand to her stomach. “I don’t need them. I have you, and I’ll have them.”

“Of course, you will.” Always. “But, baby, your friends can’t just be your wife and kids.” 

“Why not?” His look of distaste at the word ‘friends’ makes her chuckle. He can be so damn stubborn. “I don’t like anybody else.”

“I’m aware,” she frowns. “What about a cl—”

“No.”

The frown deepens. Of course. Solana reaches for the pack of tortillas, tossing two in the basket. “Ro, you didn’t even hear what I was going to say.”

“Does it involve me being around people?”

An obvious answer but one she provides him, nonetheless.“Well, yes.”

“Then, I’m not interested.”

Rolling her eyes, she begins to push the cart again, prompting him to follow her. “I was going to say a photography club—”

“No.”

“Ro, you love photography.” Not to mention he’s exceptionally good. Having seen not only the shots he’s taken of her as well as sitting on his lap watching him edit, Solana can see the relaxation and enjoyment it brings him. Building upon it could be helpful.

If only he could see it that way. His dismissal is swift and to the point. “Yeah, and I hate people.”

She rubs her temples. As much as she loves this man, he can be so damn petulant. “Ro, the point—the point is to be more social. To....to make more friends.”

He's never looked so horrified and disgusted. “You say you worry about my blood pressure, but you out here trying to get me to interact with people that I hate?"

“Roman, you don’t even know them.”

“And?”

Deciding to take a risk, a big risk, a leap even, Solana is only able to get out. "What about Mat—"

"No."

Just like that. No consideration. No hesitation. Just immediately rejection.

She can't say she's surpsied.

Stopping the cart once more, she stands in front of him. “Roman….” She moves her hands to his chest, voice lowering and softening. “You know what Fetu said…..” Solana is very much aware as to the way his expression easily shifts from something hardened to something solemn. “It was…..it was her wish that you form a relationship with Matteo.” Roman looks away, prompting her to gently tug on his hoodie. “He’s your brother, Roman.”

As expected, he backs away from her, swiftly dismissing, “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Ro—”

“We can. Just….not right now, alright?” There’s believability in his voice and expression. Solana nods, understanding the importance of timing as well as him being in a place to be more receptive. Not to mention she understands entirely the difficulty he’s facing.

Cause she’s dealing with the same thing.

They continue to move through the aisles, but instead of Roman simply reading off and allowing her to grab said items, he, of course, handles both tasks, thus delegating his wife to simply pushing the basket. 

The reason?

“Too much movement for you.”

Rubbing her temples, Solana finds herself unable to take it anymore when he reaches for the six pack of yogurt before she can. Looking up at him as they walk, she vents. “Roman, I love you, but this is getting ridiculous. They’re groceries, not—”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Solana looks away from her husband in favor of whatever he’s now looking at with disgust. 

“Matteo.”

Because, sure enough, there stands her husband’s older, half brother next to a beautiful woman with a deep complexion, soft features and black box braids that cascade down her back. She’s also pushing the basket as the two of them now stand across from Solana and Roman.

Matteo’s facial expression is neutral as he acknowledges her, “Solana.” His gaze then shifts to Roman, to whom he gives a small nod. “Roman.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Roman!” Solana whispers harshly, tugging on Roman’s hoodie sleeve.

Matteo scoffs. “I could ask you the same.”

“Matteo!” The other woman scolds, shaking her head and focusing on Solana with a kind smile. “Solana? Roman’s wife, correct?” She walks over, extending her hand. “I’m Afia. Matteo’s wife.”

For some reason, Solana didn’t even think about the fact that Matteo could have a whole wife. Let alone a wife who’s in the states with him while he works.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Solana greets, accepting the handshake. She then gestures to her still scowling husband. “We were just getting some groceries.”

“Same,” Afia chuckles, also motioning to her husband who’s also scowling at Roman. Solana has a hard time not thinking about how much they resemble each other in this moment. “This one hates when we’re interrupted.”

“How you think we feel?” 

Solana sighs. “Roman, please.” Her husband can be so damn petty sometimes. 

“Trust me, when the guards said Bloodline only, I was thinking it would just be your wife, not you,” Matteo suddenly comments, partially glaring at Roman. For a second, Solana is taken back by his demeanor. The last time she encountered him, he was a lot more approachable and gregarious. However, she quickly reminds herself of what Afia just told her. 

“This one hates when we’re interrupted.”

It seems Roman and his brother have more in common than just looks. They both hate having one-on-one time with their wives disturbed. 

Afia then asks, “Do you shop here a lot?”

Solana nods. "I do."

“Oh, good.” Afia shakes her head, pulling out her phone and moving closer to share her screen. “I’m Nigerian, so I make a lot of Nigerian food, but I’m having a hard time finding some of the ingredients.”

Solana shakes her head, explaining, “some things are arranged kinda weird around here. What are you looking for? I’m sure I can help.”

Afia makes a face. Filled with appreciation. “That would be wonderful.” She scrolls a bit, Solana gasping when she sees the photo of the food. 

“That looks delicious,” Solana smiles, hand naturally moving to her stomach.

Afia returns the smile. “It is. It’s called Afang soup.” She gestures to her husband with a light chuckle. “This one doesn’t really care for soup, but the kids love it.”

Matteo continues to scowl, partially defending himself. “Soup does nothing to abate my appetite.”

Solana giggles, also pointing to Roman. “He doesn’t really like soup that much either.”

And like his brother, Roman argues, “because I end up being hungry again an hour later.”

Solana opts not to comment on her husband and instead focuses on something that Afia said. “You….you guys have kids?”

Her smile could light up all of New York and then some. Hitting the side of the phone to lock it and then unlock it reveals Afia's lock screen photo which depicts three, smiling young faces. Two boys, obviously twins, no more than 5 and a little girl who can’t be more than two.

Solana gasps, briefly overcome with emotion. Roman has a niece and two nephews. 

A family.

“They’re beautiful,” she comments, trying her best not to cause too much of a scene, not only because of where they stand but because of the two men who are only a few feet away. 

But maybe, just maybe, she could find time outside of a random run-in to talk with Afia. To have a sit-down and figure out if they can maybe work together to build a relationship between their husbands. 

Work together as sister-in-laws.

Clearing her throat, Solana pulls out her phone, starting to ask, “can I get your num—”

“Oh, hey!”

Four sets of eyes fall on the newest person to walk in on this impromptu meeting, Afia looking skeptical, Roman and Matteo irritated, and only Solana to reciprocate the kind introduction. 

“Sami,” she smiles. “Good to see you.”

“Who the fuck is this?” Matteo gestures to Sami but directs his question toward Roman.

Roman, who is running his hand over his face, answers in a low voice, “a pain in my fucking ass.” Raising the volume, he asks with all the irritation, “Sami, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Solana rolls her eyes, as Sami stammers with a response, “just picking up some groceries, TC.” Roman scowls, mouthing ‘TC’ with all the confusion as Sami says with a chuckle, "surprising my wife tonight by cooking dinner for her.”

Afia gasps. “What a sweet thing to do.” She playfully cuts her eyes at her husband. “Did you hear that, my love? He’s cooking for his wife.”

“And?” Matteo is unimpressed. “I’m supposed to take advice from a homeless man?”

Solana jumps in, not wanting Sami to feel bad, though she’s partially stunned at just how much Roman and his brother are like. 

“What are you making?” She asks. This is the first time she's seen the man since her welcome home party, and while a part of her feels a bit guilty about unintentionally putting him in that situation. There's just a kind aura about Sami that makes her want to bypass any awkwardness that conversation could bring and proceed with the pleasantries.

“Shawarma,” he answers with a proud smile.

Solana's jaw drops. “Really? I’ve always wanted to make that.”

“Me too,” Afia gasps. “Do you have a recipe you’d be willing to share?” She then offers her hand, “I’m Afia, by the way. Matteo's wife.”

Sami’s grin widens, accepting the handshake and offering his name as well. “Sami Zayn. Super nice to meet you.” He crosses his arms, offering, “You bet I do. A lot of them, actually, if you guys are interested.”

“Sami, I didn’t know you cooked like that.” Because, for some reason, Solana can’t picture the man before her knowing his way around a kitchen. Looks truly can be deceiving, though.

“I surely do,” he says it with so much pride. “I’m Syrian, so a lot of the food I make is Middle Eastern.”

Afia makes a sound of almost awe. “Oh, I love Middle Eastern food, but making some of those meals is always a bit of a challenge.”

Solana nods, agreeing, “especially with finding some of the ingredients.”

Sami makes a face, asking, “have either of you been to the international food market on 54th and Granite?”

Afia shakes her head, explaining, “my family and I are here….short-term, so we haven’t been a lot of places, to be honest.”

Solana tries to not think too much about the fact that her time to work with Afia to help Roman and Matteo may be limited. She just continues to focus on the conversation at hand. “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

Sami makes a sound, head temporarily thrown back. “You two absolutely have to go. I’ll be honest, I get most of poultry from there.” He leans forward, whispering almost. “A lot more lean. Less fat to cut.”

“Really?” 

“Yup!”

He then offers, “you know I would be more than happy to escort you both. I mean, my uncle Louis works there, so you could get the family discount as well.”

Afia giggles softly. “That is so sweet of you.”

“I would love that so much,” Solana chimes, directing her comment to the both of them, “we should exchange recipes or something. I’m half Mexican, so I make a lot of Mexican food.”

Sami places his hand over his stomach. “You two are making me hungry already.”

As the three exchange laughter, Roma finds himself unable to stand patient and quiet as his suddenly social butterfly of a wife trades pleasantries with a woman she just met and fucking Sami.

“Sol—”

“Roman,” Solana practically whines briefly, informing in a more assertive voice, “I’m talking.”

And as she turns her attention from her husband and back to the conversation at hand, an equally annoyed Matteo attempts to get his wife’s attention as well. 

“Fia—”

Afia, however, waves him off, muttering something in Italian as she too proceeds to be dismissive. 

Matteo is the first to say it, the other three completely immersed in their culinary conversations. “I don’t fucking like him.”

Roman looks over at the other man, not exactly disagreeing but also not wanting to engage with him, either. 

There’s a brief moment of silence that overcomes them, one that Matteo is the one to break.

“How are you doing?”

More forced social interaction. Even worse, a valid but irritating question. That doesn’t mean Roman has to answer it. Directly, at least.

Rolling his shoulders, he answers in a gruff voice, “fine until you and your damn wife interrupted us.”

Matteo makes a sound and rolls his eyes. “Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.”

And on some level, Roman knows this. Understands this. But, it's the combination of the letter, Solana being slightly on him about Matteo, fucking Matteo standing a few feet away from him that feels like too much.

Way too much.

Roman clears his throat and makes a comment about needing to make a call.

He doesn't really need to.

He just needs to get away, needs to not have to deal with this right now.

Or ever, preferably.

Though no longer an option.

If only.

————

After exchanging contact information, Solana is finally pulled away by her husband, who cites them being away from their dog too long as a reason to finish shopping so that they can leave.

An excuse that makes her smile, but an effective one, nonetheless.

The two arrive home, and Solan is able to fix dinner for herself and Roman, the two sharing a meal together, Dulce begging for scraps, Roman eventually relenting not to the human food but some fancy dog snacks that apparently Jimmy started feeding Dulce.

There's even brief conversation about the unexpected run-in. One that goes better than expected.

It’s a nice calm before a potential storm. 

Because a few hours later, Solana is sitting in the middle of their bed, letter in hand when Roman walks out of the bathroom, freshly showered and clean. Right away, his eyes settle on the papers, expression softening.

“Solana, we don’t have to—”

“Yes, we do,” she interrupts, voice light but firm. “We said we’d start being honest with each other. You let me read Fetu’s letter. It’s only fair I let you read this. I—I want—I need you to.”

Her words seem to alleviate the sense of unease he feels at potentially “invading” her privacy. But, there is no privacy in this situation, because not only have the contents changed her life, in so many ways.

It’s about to change their lives in many ways.

Roman moves to sit on the side of the bed, Solana handing the letter to him, only asking, “can you not read it aloud?”

He nods, accepting them and the request. “Of course.”

She can only offer him a small smile before she watches him unfold the letter and begin to read, starting off the longest patch of time she’s ever experienced. It’s like the sound of big ticking playing and taunting her, seconds stretching into minutes that feel like hours. 

So many of the initial thoughts and feelings return, and before she realizes it, her eyes are watering. 

“Holy shit….” is Roman’s only comment as he finishes his read, Solana chuckling bitterly. 

“That—that’s what I said,” she whispers, eyes closing. “He wasn’t my father.” The lump in the back of her throat thickens as she murmurs, “Paloma is…..she’s my grandmother.”

Roman looks off at the wall, eyes slightly wide as he shakes his head. “That’s why your mother always talked about that place. Because it was where her family was.”

“Where my family is,” she corrects, pushing back some of her hair, eyes misting all over. “I have a family.”

Roman looks at her, dots continuing to connect, “shit, that means Bayley is your cousin, right?” She nods with a small, sad smile as he looks away, muttering, “fucking Santos Escobar is your damn cousin, of course.” Catching himself, Roman apologizes, “I’m sorry.”

Her smile grows a tad bit. “It’s okay.” She appreciates the brief break from heavy emotions, albeit short, as his expression shifts into something serious.

Lifting the letter, he asks in the most sincere way, “what do you make of all of this?”

“Which part?” She asks more herself than him, rolling her still misting eyes. “I—I don’t know. It’s…it’s so much to take in, but….and this is the part I hate, I feel…..I feel angry with her.”

Roman asks in a quiet voice, “with your mom?”

Solana nods and looks away. Silence followed by an almost whispered, “I need to tell you something.” Solana is focused on the dresser instead of her husband whose eyes she can feel burning into her. “But, I never—I never want you to ask me about it again after today, because I’ve never—I’ve never told anyone, and I don’t want…..I don’t want to tell anyone or—or process it in therapy. I’ve—I’ve always to pretend it never happened. I wanted…..I wanted to die with this secret.”

Roman swallows, clearly sensing the building emotion. “Solana, you don’t—”

“He tried to rape me.”

Solana is forever grateful for not seeing the expression on her husband’s face when the words leave her mouth, because the horrified nature of his tone combined with what she’s about to share, is hard enough. “What?”

Head down, eyes closed, she starts recalling the deepest of her darkest secrets. “I was—I was sixteen, and—and Wes wasn’t home. I don’t know….I don’t know where he was, but it—it wouldn’t have made a difference either way.” Because, it truly wouldn’t have. “My d—” Solana catches herself, offering the more appropriate correction, especially given what she now knows. “Xavier came home drunk as hell. It had to have been close to 2 in the morning. I always….I always tried to stay out of his way, especially when he was drinking. And usually, if I was out of sight, I was out of mind. But….but that night, he—he came in my room.”

“Solana—”

“He started….he started rambling about things that didn’t make sense, and he—” She blows out a deep breath, pulling at the material of her shirt. “He started to call me a whore and a slut and accused me of sleeping around, which is why he said he needed to check me.” Solana wipes at her eyes, hugging herself as she whispers out, “and he did, but after, he tried—” Another pause, followed by a quiet, murmured, “he couldn’t get an erection, and I think he was too embarrassed by it, which is why he didn’t beat me. He just…..he just left.” 

Roman's voice is saturated with sympathy. “Solana….”

“That next morning was the first time I tried to kill myself.” A vacant stare and hollow voice accompany the recalling of a night of attempted, horrific, unspeakable horrors. “Because….because I’d rather be dead than have another man hurt me like that.” Finally, Solana turns to look at her husband, a mixture of so many emotions, the strongest being a rage she knows she’s can’t fully comprehend.

Rage directed toward the man whose life he took methodically, slowly, and in every painful way known to man, but none of that would and will ever be enough to justify what he did.

Especially now that Roman knows this part of her story. 

“I went through hell in that house because of her,” Solana finally allows herself to voice the truth she’s been sitting on since reading the letter. Finally frees the thoughts that she feels partially ashamed at having, though justified at feeling. “Because she wanted a daughter.” 

Roman reaches out to cup her face, clearly wanting to help comfort her. “Baby—”

“She knew how he was, Roman. Knew what he was capable of, but she still kept me with her and let—my brother, who she didn’t tell me about, go with my real father, who she also didn’t tell me about.” She speaks from the heart, hurt and anger dipping from her words. She gestures to the letter, continuing to finally break down, “and then she puts in a fucking letter that I find at almost 30 years-old, and I’m supposed to just be okay with all this?”

“Solana—”

“I hate her!”

Silence.

A sniffle. A gasp. A sob. 

Solana breaks down crying, face in her now wet palms. She’s instantly offered a slice of comfort when Roman’s strong arms wrap around her, holding her as he kisses her temple and tries to console her. 

It helps. It’s comforting, but doesn’t negate the fact that the one person she never thought she could hate or have any ill will towards has now become part of the mountain of suffering she’s endured in her life.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed. 

————

Solo’s foot taps against the floor one too many times, evoking a chuckle and comment from his perceptive father.

“Patience, son.”

Solo cuts his eyes at the older man, while stopping the foot tapping. Sitting forward, he states the obvious. “They’re late.”

This is a given, obvious by the lack of bodies present in vacant, waiting chairs. 

“Good things come to those who wait, my boy.”

Solo scoffs, tone sharp as he asserts, “I’ve waited long enough.”

Rikishi smiles. “Agreed.” 

And as if being summoned, the door opens and in enters the Elders, one by one, each taking a seat. As protocol, Solo stands and bows his head, properly acknowledging those who came before him. 

Aleki wears a bored expression. “Well?” He motions with his hand. “Why have you requested an audience with us?”

Rikishi sits forward and shares a look with his son before going over the script he’s had memorized for years. “My brothers. I asked you to meet with me and my son, Solo, today regarding some significant concerns we have about the Bloodline.”

Solo specifies, “about Roman Reigns.”

Something flashes in Aleki’s eyes before he grants permission. “Go on.”

Rikishi gives a deep, heavy, fake sigh. “As much as it pains me to say this, as I love him as if he were my own, it deeply troubles me what may happen to the Bloodline and all we’ve built if he continues to sit at the Head of The Table.”

Sione, another Elder, speaks up, “that is a bold statement to make, Rikishi.”

Solo’s father doesn’t disagree. “It is.” A firm expression, followed by, “but a true one, nonetheless.” He sits forward in his chair, continuing, “make no mistake. None of us can take away what Nakoa’s boy has done for the Bloodline, how far he’s advanced us, but I fear Roman’s previous dedication has been….compromised.”

Another Elder asks, voice sharp and to the point. “Compromised how?” 

Rikishi looks over at his son, giving him the nod to take over. Just as they rehearsed.

Ready and determined, Solo’s voice is strong as he asserts, “Roman Reigns has become so distracted and consumed by his love for his wife that it’s blinded his judgment. A wife who still hasn’t produced an heir yet seems to think she is above our ways and laws.”

“It’s true,” Rikishi adds. “Why, just the other day, I was trying to help her understand the importance of an heir, and she slapped me and told me to remember my place.”

Aleki sits forward. “What?” Anger flashes in his brown eyes and fills his aged face. “Does she not know it is forbidden to strike and speak in such way to an Elder?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rikishi calmly counters. “Because Roman justified her behavior and even attacked me, choking me, threatening to kill me just for speaking to her.”

Gasps and shocked expressions around the table as Solo fills the silence with additional information. “And that shooting a couple months ago? Solana wasn’t the target. Roman was. He was shot, but he was shot because he took the bullet for her.”

Sione gasps, narrowed gaze to Rikishi. “You told us—”

“He told ya’ll what Roman told him to tell ya’ll, and he threatened to kill him, to kill all of us, if we told the truth.” Solo answers, gaze hardening. “Roman uses and abuses his power and title to justify his and his wife’s actions that go against not only our rules and traditions, but the Bloodline as a whole.” Voice unwavering, Solo surveys the room and lifts his chin. “He is no longer fit to wear the ula fala.”

Silence

Aleki clears his throat, voice deceptively calm. “These are strong accusations you two make.”

“They can only be accusations if untrue, but I assure you, everything we’ve said is true,” Rikishi places his hand over his heart. “My son, Jey, is even willing to come and testify to what he’s seen, even more than what Solo and I have shared today.”

At that, it takes everything in Solo to not look over at his father with surprise. That wasn’t part of what they discussed. Last he heard, Jey was still on the fence when approached with the idea of talking to the Elders about Roman being removed as the Tribal Chief.

And Jimmy was straight up against it.

But despite this unexpected piece, Solo manages to remain focused on the task at hand. 

“And I hate to bring this up, but brothers…..even if Roman’s wife was to provide an heir, Roman is Afakasi. His wife is Black and Mexican. What true Samoan blood will run through that child’s vein?” Rikishi challenges, shaking his head. “I fear Nakoa’s taking an outsider as a wife may have strengthened us at the time, but now, it will lead to our erasure.”

Another Elder points out, “we have decided to give Roman until the end of the year to—”

“That won’t work,” Solo reiterates. “You all don’t understand. Roman is not the man he used to be. His obsession with his wife is limitless. He’ll kill every single person in this room before he allows anyone to interfere with his marriage. He is dangerous. And not just to our enemies anymore.” Solo's voice darkens once more as they arrive at the climax of said script. “There’s only one way we can fix this problem.”

Another blanket of silence that extends longer than the last episode.

Aleki is quieter than before, tone chilly, “what exactly are you two proposing?”

Rikishi is the one to announce the ultimate goal, the key to making his longtime plan come to fruition. “Roman Reigns needs to be eliminated.” He surveys the face of his brothers, asserting, “We either kill him or he kills us. There is no other way.”

He then turns to Solo, hand on his shoulder, “and in his place, my son, Solo, who, at one point, served as Roman’s personal enforcer. Before Roman delegated him to being that wife of his bodyguard.” He then adds, for good measure, “Solo, who also already has four sons who are already in training to serve the Bloodline.”

More silence as someone brings up a prior, similar incident. “Rikishi, didn’t one of your sons already attempt to take the ula fala from Reings?”

“I’m not my brother,” Solo reminds, gaze around the room. “Jey failed. I won’t.”

Something appears in Aleki’s eyes, similar to excitement. He clears his throat, announcing, “you know we have protocols and traditions in situations like this, none of which are being proposed, thus we cannot approve such a coup.”

“We don’t need you to,” Rikishi informs. “We will only need you to approve and bless Solo wearing the ula fala and being our new Tribal Chief when the time comes.”

More silence. This lasting the longest before the older men share looks of unspoken conversation amongst themselves, eventually standing as Aleki shares, “we will take your…request into consideration.”

Solo bows while Rikishi simply nods. “Thank you, my brothers.”

Not another word is shared until the room is emptied of the majority of the Elders, leaving just father and son. 

Solo is quick to sigh, running his hand over his face. “I don’t think it went well.”

Rikishi, however, simply smiles. “It went perfect.” Seeing the confusion on his son’s face, he explains, “Roman has shot himself in the foot with his disrespect over the years towards the Elders. They’re just as eager for that son of a bitch to be put down as we are.” He places a hand on Solo’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my boy. By the end of the year, it will be you who sits at the Head of the Table.”

At that, Solo looks up, proud and determined. “Thank you, tamā.” 

And once again, fate is on their side, cards continuing to fall right in place. Rikishi pulls out his ringing phone, smirking when he sees who the requested video is from. He instructs Solo to cast it to the flat screen TV mounted on the wall, said screen filling with a now familiar face.

“Well?” Luca’s deep, accented voice is thick with irritation and impatience. “How did it go?”

“Just as we needed it too,” Rikishi is the one to answer. “I have very little doubt that they will in any way object to Solo’s ascension.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Luca Rossi is many things: cold, unfeeling, ruthless and so many more. All of which are reflected in the disgust in his voice. “The only thing I care about is Roman Reigns head on a fucking platter, so that I can have my rightful place as Capo di tutti capi.”

A smug Solo doesn’t hesitate to point out, “wasn’t he just in Italy? Why didn’t you make the killshot then?”

Luca growls something in Italian. “Because you people failed to inform me of his visit, as was our agreement. Not to mention that damn Dwayne worked hard to get him in and out.” The mutual disdain for the Tribal Chief and Capo’s second-in-command is certainly a shared thing among the three men. “And let us not forget I have been working for months here to create unrest to draw him out. You said he would come shortly after his wedding.”

“Things changed,” Rikishi shrugs, recognizing there is a hint of truth to what the man is saying. “It doesn’t matter though. The time is finally nearing.”

Luca's expression and voice are filled with skepticism. “Are Dwayne and Matteo still there?”

Solo, partially confused, is the one to answer. “Yeah. Why?”

Luca curses quietly. “Be careful with them. They both hold undying loyalty to my cousin. Neither should be underestimated, especially Matteo. He is just as brutal and sadistic as his brother. He just hides behind that charismatic personality. So is Dwayne. Not to mention the wild card the opo will play.”

Rikishi frowns. “Opo?”

“Matteo’s wife.” Luca scowls. “A former master assassin with a kill count that could probably rival any of your best men. Her codename was Opo, and that bitch has taken out the best of the best. Retired when she fell in love with an assignment.”

Solo puts two and two together, guessing aloud. “Matteo?”

Luca nods, eyes traveling elsewhere as he plays out different scenarios. “You seem sure of this plan, but know this, you’re in for one hell of a fight should Dwayne, Matteo, and even the opo decide to stand with Roman.” 

The words go in one ear and out the other for both the father and son duo. They’ve worked too hard and too long to not be fully prepared to go to war, should it reach that point. They didn’t create the alliances and recruit the participants they did for no reason. 

Luca’s eyes twinkle with mischief and disdain. “And as a friendly reminder, the minute my cousin takes his last breath, this background partnership as well as the alliance between the Bloodline and the Cosa Nostra is over with.” He sneers, vowing, “our people will never be on the same side again.”

Solo scoffs, gaze just as dark as Luca’s eyes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And with that, the screen goes blank. Solo doesn’t hesitate to murmur, “fucking hate him.”

“So do I, but he’s served a purpose,” is Rikishi’s only comment as the two walk out of the room, eventually exiting the building and entering the limo waiting for them.

Across the seat, a hard set of brown eyes land on them. “Well?”

Rikishi smirks, buckling his seatbelt and answering with a proud smile, “it’s all going to plan.” He and Solo share knowing smirks, before he asks in a hardened voice, “is it ready?”

Nia’s smile is sinister and malicious as she lifts the phone. Tapping on the screen, “Solana’s” voice fills the car.

“Brandi? It’s me, Solana. I need you to meet me at the library this afternoon. Bring Emma, too. I can’t say why, but you just have to trust me. Please! I think you guys are in danger. I’ll be waiting for you.” 

As the audio ends, Rikishi laughs, proudly. “Excellent.” Looking out the window, he says mostly to himself, “Finally, the last of Nakoa’s bloodline will be gone for good.” An evil, pleased smile falls upon his rotund face. “I can finally finish what I started almost 30 years ago.”

[madamofthestars]

“Be more careful darling”| Yandere Dr.Ratio headcannons.

Author note-Dr.Ratio meal has been served fresh out of the oven.

Tw-Yandere content.

🖤Walking down the hallways of Herta space station specifically the restricted zone gave you an eerie and uncomfortable feeling.

🖤 And, yet it was a part of an assignment to get the phase flame.

🖤 Dr. Ratio had you come with him on this assignment.

🖤 The reason why he had you come with him is to make sure you don't escape.

🖤 He has caught you multiple times trying to escape and by the second attempt.

🖤 Dr. Ratio decided to make you accompany him so he can keep a better eye on you and ensure you don't escape.

🖤 You decided to walk ahead of him taking the time to get a better understanding of your surrounding.

🖤you were so focused on trying to get a better view of your surroundings that you didn’t notice the swarms sneaking around the area.

🖤You were so close to being attacked when you heard a familiar phrase and throw of chalk.

🖤”Zero points next!”

🖤this caused the swarm to end up being startled and decided to run away for now at least.

🖤”Darling let this be a lesson to not try to get distracted and wonder off. I’m not always going to be around to get you out of situations”

🖤you heard him say as the two of you carried on but with Dr. Ratio making sure that you stay beside him and not wonder off during the rest of the mission.

🖤after the mission he did give you a slight lecture but this is mostly out of love for you because you are his precious sparrow after all.

[pianocat939]

Ah yes- the one guy everyone screams over-

Tw: controlling behaviour, implications of isolation, you get fucking restricted to a room-, helicopter dad (platonic part), kidnapping, violence

Yandere Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

Type: Controlling + Possessive

Romantic

He is definitely one who likes to control, I mean- just all the scenes of him were just him wanting to contain Miles and keep him from doing whatever he wished. Possessive? I headcanon it also goes into his want to control and his alternate being lost.

When you first meet him, I'm sure it's going to be negative or he just doesn't trust you at all. But, over time as you interact more negatively or positively, some character trait you have interested him or perhaps brings a memory he was once fond of. Then, he tries to talk to you more and slowly brings you to trust him.

He doesn't like taking the friend stage, because I just think he doesn't seem the type to ultimately trust people and call them friends. So after a few months, he'll straight up confess his romantic feelings to you. If you agree, the less severe his aggression and strictness will be. But here's the thing, he won't take no for an answer. So he'll just haul you over his shoulder and take you away to a secluded space where he can trap you- and don't bother escaping.

Depending on your response his actions and demeanour as a romantic partner will differ. If you don't actively purposefully disobey or disregard him he'll let you talk to others and go to places on your own. But he expects you to return to him at certain points of the day.

If you're not compliant with him he'll lock your up in a certain area and you are expected to obey the rules he has set unless you want more restrictions.

He's not super affectionate, but in private times and if he trusts you enough he'll give you some physical affection (because istg he is definitely some sappy word guy).

He IS violent when it comes to others. If they step outside their boundaries he is just a monster. So don't try to let other people get killed ok?

Honestly, he's just a troubled man who needs some support in his life.

"No one has been acting too close to you today, right? Because I'm definitely not in the mood to go scuff up another person today."

Platonic

He is definitely one who likes to control, I mean- just all the scenes of him were just him wanting to contain Miles and keep him from doing whatever he wished. Possessive? I headcanon it also goes into his want to control and his alternate being lost.

When you first meet him, I'm sure it's going to be negative or he just doesn't trust you at all. But, over time as you interact more negatively or positively, some character trait you have interested him or perhaps brings a memory he was once fond of. Then, he tries to talk to you more and slowly brings you to trust him.

He's honestly dad from there- like he constantly asks if you've taken the necessary things needed for a healthy life (food, liquid, vitamins, etc.) He'll be very helicopter dad definitely, ensuring you're "secure". If you're another spider, he might take the time to train you a little.

Depending on your response his actions and demeanour as a friend/father figure will differ. If you don't actively purposefully disobey or disregard him he'll let you talk to others and go to places on your own. But he expects you to return to him at certain points of the day.

If you're not compliant with him he'll lock your up in a certain area and you are expected to obey the rules he has set unless you want more restrictions.

He's not very affectionate, but he does show some love with the occasional head pat or gifting you stuff you want/like. He IS violent when it comes to others. If they step outside their boundaries he is just a monster. So don't try to let other people get killed ok?

Honestly, he's just a troubled man who needs some support in his life.

"What do you mean you've only drunk a litre of water today?! You need to drink more, so don't make me force it down your throat."

——————————————————

Yeah so here's some content for everybody's favourite-

I'm sorry but I cannot take him seriously at all- like I was almost laughing at him when I watched the movie-

My sleep schedule is really weird so apologies for uploading at an odd time today

- Celina

[childrenofcain-if]

I'm sorry if it's insensitive to ask, but is W anorexic? Only asking because I used to struggle with that as well and it's very cathartic to have that represented in an interactive fiction.

I hope you have a nice day, author ☺️

TW: EATING DISORDERS

i’m really sorry to hear that, dear bonnie, hopefully you’re well on your way to recovery and doing good.

W is actually diagnosed with avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder and is also a recovering bulimic. a lot of their struggle stems from wanting to take up less space, being more desirable, having some semblance of control, and punishing their own body.

for most of my characters, i’ve based their struggles around what i and a lot of the people i care about have gone through. i’d also like to preface this by saying that the descriptions of it might get a little too triggering so imma add options to skip those scenes to make it less upsetting.

overall, i’m just happy that a lot of people can see shadows of themselves in my characters and it’s one of the reasons why i love writing so much.

[bunni-v1]

Cureé

Chapter 5: Deal Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Tw: None (I think!)

Info: Vil and Reader; Riddle Rosehearts x Reader; Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Word Count: 7.4k Words

🍓Unfortunatelyyyyyyyy this chapter had to be split into two! It was getting too long and I knew I had to cut it in half. The second part WILL be shorter I promise! Anyway, this one was a lot of fun to write, and we're starting to get into the meat of everything here! Hope you all enjoy <3

Taglist: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02 @savanaclaw1996 (Lmk if you want to be added)

“This may be the worst thing I’ve ever worn…” you grumble, glaring at the too-fluffy purple fabric of your skirt. The sleeves were a poofy nightmare, flaring out from the top with slits down the center for better arm movement, and to show off your pretty silk gloves. The corset wrapped around your waist did you no favors, only restricting your movements and making it harder to breathe. The only thing the dress did not cover was your chest, draped in the finest jewels your handmaids could find. It likely didn’t help that you had an extra layer of hunting clothes beneath the whole ensemble.

“It’s not that bad…” Deuce tries to soothe, smoothing over the skirt.

It was a very pretty dress but… You felt a bit ridiculous in the wretched thing. Ballgowns were never your favorite, while your brother adored them more than anything. He could pull them off though, looking like a goddess and floating across the floor like a ghost. You… you looked like… well…

“You look like a purple cream puff,” Ace says, better than anyone else could.

“I know,” you whine, “I begged for something more… modest, but appearances and such.”

“You look pretty,” Deuce tries again, and you focus your glare in the mirror on him, which makes him shrink back a bit.

“You do look nice,” Ace jumps in, “just not…”

“Yourself,” Deuce finishes for him, smile awkward and nervous as always.

You sigh, fiddling with the pretty silken gloves. You did not like silk gloves, you always struggled to grab silverware with them on, but they were pretty. They made you feel pretty, despite your favor for leather hunters gloves. 

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Ace slings his arm around your shoulder, waving his hand through the air and looking off into the distance. You follow his gaze, though you know you both looked incredibly stupid, “that hunter guy is gonna lose his mind when he sees you all dressed up.”

You roll your eyes. You told Ace and Deuce about your interesting beau shortly after he had left your room, and the two of them had not allowed you to live it down since. You fix your glare up at Ace now, arms crossing petulantly over your chest. While the idea of Rook enjoying your outfit made butterfly wings tickle your stomach, you did not like being teased about it. In retaliation, you poke him hard in his ribs. He whines and gives you space to breathe.

“Don’t make me think about him,” you sigh, “it’ll make this dinner all the more dreadful.”

“At least you’re sitting near Riddle?” Deuce asks hopefully, an encouraging smile gracing his features. You find his smile to be quite knightly, and the nervous part of your brain is assured by it. If only a little.

“At least I have that,” you laugh lightly, giving yourself one last look over in the mirror before the door to your room cracked open, familiar blue eyes sparkling at you.

“It’s time to make your appearance, Your Majesty,” Epel said playfully, practically jittering in excitement.

You let out a noise between a squeak of surprise and an exclamation of joy, then throw yourself into his arms. He spins you around a few times, laughing, then plants you on the ground and straightens any fabric or hair that might’ve fallen out of place. Seeing Epel was quite the pick me up, especially since you hadn’t seen him since those few nights ago.

“You are my escort?” You exclaim, unable to stay still as you bounce up and down happily.

“The Queen specifically requested I be the one to escort you,” he confirms, smiling bright as the sun, “though… I’m unsure why he changed his tune about everything that happened.”

“That’s not something to worry about,” you dismiss, though you are confident your little… argument with your brother was the most likely cause, “I’m just happy to see you again.”

His smile softens into something more gentle, intimate, and knowing. You missed the kind way he looked at you. Like you were his family and he yours. Before you both can get too lost in catching up a throat clears behind you. Ah, yes. Ace and Deuce were here.

“Who’s this?” Ace asks chest puffed out. Was he… sizing Epel up? The idea is so funny that you laugh a little without meaning to.

“Ah, Ace and Deuce, this is my best friend since childhood, Epel,” You turn to Epel, who also seems to be sizing the two men up, “Epel, these are my temporary guards and dearest companions from the Rosedom, Ace and Deuce.”

“You’ve been taking good care of them?” Epel asks sharply.

“Great care,” Ace retorts, just as sharp.

“The best, even,” Deuce remarks as well.

Before the three of them can get into a verbal game of proving who you do or do not like more, you wave your hands in the air and insist that you must not be late for dinner. Your brother’s wrath would be unpleasant to face, especially after having made a big deal of promising to be on time. So, reluctantly, the three men back down and guide you carefully through the busy halls bustling with castle staff ensuring everything was perfect for the day.

When you finally reach the (frankly, too) large doors of the dining room, Epel stops you. Introductions, of course, you are sure all the suitors (actually just your brother, and maybe Kalim) are waiting with bated breath to see you. Hah, the thought is funny. No one really wants to be here, and you know that for a fact.

Epel announces your arrival, the doors open, and you put a pleasant smile on your face. Perform perfectly, and it’ll all be over in no time, you remind yourself. Your brother stands at the end of the table, though he does not make direct eye contact with you the whole time you are walking to your seat. You are to be positioned opposite of him, and as promised, Riddle is standing in the spot next to you. Unfortunately for you, Leona is positioned on the other side of you, and you try not to frown when you realize this.

Next to Leona is, surprisingly, Azul Ashengrotto, who you did not expect to see tonight. He was not exactly someone you imagine your brother being willing to negotiate with, especially not when you are in question… but you have been learning quite a bit about your brother you suppose. Kalim sat next to Riddle, giving you a little wave when you made eye contact. You do not grin, though you wish to do so. Kalim was such a sweetheart, especially to you, even before any marriage was in question.

Idia, whom you had forgotten was even an option for you, was sitting on your brother's left next to Kalim. He looked as though he might burst out crying when you looked at him, so you swiftly moved your eyes to the final suitor. Malleus Draconia, as elegant and handsome as always, which causes a nagging part of your brain to roll its eyes (though you do not). He gives you a confident smile, and you have to resist the urge to vomit. His ever-scary retainer was standing near the edge of the room by the guards after all, you did not want to feel his gaze on you ever again after that one night.

When you position yourself in front of your seat, you finally lock eyes with your brother. He is beautiful as always, as expected. There is a lingering sadness in his face, a stress that you had not seen since your parents had passed. You hate the way satisfaction grows in your belly at the thought that you had caused it. Resentment was an ugly beast.

Vil clears his throat, and a kind, gentle, fake smile comes across his lips. “Welcome all to dinner, we are delighted to have your company on this fine evening. More than that, I am pleased that all of you are interested in trying for my dearly beloved siblings' hand in marriage. This dinner, so to speak, will mark the beginning of the ahem competition for her affections. Do try your best.”

The air around you becomes tense at his words, even though your brother continues to speak, and you don’t believe it’s solely because of your distaste for the idea. There is a real drive in (some of) these men to prove themselves to you. They all have stakes in this ‘friendly’ competition for your hand — well, more like their kingdoms do. While each of them has little personal gain, their people would greatly benefit from a marriage between their kingdom and the most powerful human royal line in the current times.

You are a prize to be won, as much as you do not want to be, and it makes your stomach turn. You are so discomforted with the feeling, that you spend the rest of your brothers pleasantries ignoring his words and trying to calm yourself. You only tune back in when everyone sits and food is brought out.

You fiddle with your silken gloves, nerves shot. You hated feeling like prey. You were not a deer in the forest, you were the hunter. So why did you feel like you were stripped of that pride? Why did you feel the burn of seven eyes on you? Lost in your mind, you nearly spiral, until a gentle tap comes from your right side, and an awkward smile from the prettiest cupid bowed lips your eyes had ever seen pulls you from your stresses. Riddle’s gray eyes are strangely… understanding as he quietly asks “Are you okay?” You nod, and he relaxes just a bit.

Some of your suitors have already begun to engage each other in conversation, and you realize you must’ve been quiet and unmoving for a significant amount of time. Your face heats at the idea. You do not feel yourself right now, thank goodness for Riddle’s uncharacteristic kindness.

He seems to notice, again, that you are floundering and decides to converse with you. You think he may be an angel sent by the seven to save you from your idiocy.

“Trey gave me those tarts you made last week,” he begins, “they were delightful. Raspberry is surprisingly delicious.”

You are pleasantly surprised to find that Riddle was the recipient of your leftover treats. He didn’t strike you as the sweet kind, but perhaps that was because you only knew him to be sour. Was Trey trying to get you some bonus points with him? Or maybe it was him with you. Regardless of Trey’s intentions, both you and Riddle benefited.

“Yes, my mother's recipe,” you speak in hushed tones, not wanting to draw attention, “I didn’t know you liked sweets.”

He frowns a little, biting his bottom lip and furrowing his brows. You briefly imagine a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar and smile a little, which seems to ease his mind a bit as his face relaxes.

“I’m not… supposed to eat sweets like that,” he admits finally, “they’re too fattening and not good for the health.”

You shake your head at him, scoffing, “A little treat once in a while is a good thing. Anyway, I am glad you ate them. I didn’t want all of our hard work to be wasted.”

His pretty pink lips curled up into a smile, which makes butterflies flutter around in your rib cage. Riddle is handsome, which you knew from your encounters beforehand, but you hadn’t taken the time to study why that was before. His face was slender, cheeks still soft with not yet lost baby fat. His skin was pale from how much time he spent indoors being pampered by his maids and serfs, and his cheeks flushed a pretty rosy red – you believed it was natural, which only made him more handsome in your opinion. 

Despite the soft, childlike look he had, his features were sharp and trained like a true ruler. Steel blue eyes pierced into every aspect of your being, framed by soft, long eyelashes. And, of course, those damned pink lips. The dip of his cupid's bow gave them a heart-shaped look, which only added to how pretty he was. Sevens, you were jealous of just how effortlessly beautiful your – tentative – friend was.

“I’m inclined to agree with you after eating those tarts,” he laughs, ending your ogling.

You give him a pleasant smile and move to eat your meal. You were the only person in the room that had hardly touched the food, which was delicious, and so entirely unlike yourself. You made up for that in record time, still managing to look and act like you were royalty while you did so. (After seeing Ace and Deuce eat earlier this week, you were very conscious of how you looked while you ate).

You noticed the, in lack of better terms, impressed face Riddle makes when he finally looks back at your plate and half of it is gone. He does not say anything though, and you are grateful for it because explaining how much you like food to someone as slim and pretty as him fills you with hot shame just thinking about it. You give him a gracious smile, lightly patting your lips to be rid of any food that might’ve escaped you.

“You eat like a monster,” comes a grating, gravely deep voice next to you.

Riddle scoffs, a glare hardening his soft, boyish features. You lift a hand before he can defend your honor. Your eyes slide over to Leona, annoyance already clear on your face. You do not feel the need to hide your dislike for him like you might with the others. Leona sure doesn’t hide his. Still, you can’t just be cruel the way you want to.

“If I am a monster for enjoying the food my staff slaved so tirelessly over, then let the kingdom’s best hunters come and take my head as a prize,” you reply.

He grins. A slow, lazy one that is more attractive than you want to give him credit for, and holds his hands up in defense. “I’m just letting you know. Not very attractive – oh, and you have something in your teeth.”

Your face heats up, hands shooting up to cover your mouth with an indignant huff. You quickly wipe at your teeth, feeling humiliated. You were no match for Leona in a game of downright meanness. 

Riddle settled his glare at him again, “You could stand to be a little kinder if you want a chance at their hand.”

“I don’t want a chance at their hand,” Leona shoots back. Despite how that should relieve you, your humiliation only grows at the idea that you are not desirable. (You did not want to be desirable, especially not to him, but you cannot control your emotions when they are already high.)

“But your family does,” Comes the cool voice of Azul, sudden and jarring compared to the other competitions. A deceivingly kind smile grows on his face, and he waves his hand in the air as if dissipating your embarrassment like smoke with it. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, the three of you were just so… amusing that I couldn’t help myself.

You sigh, again fiddling with the fingers of your gloves. His words rang in your head, again faced with the fact that you were nothing but a chess piece in the larger game of politics right now. Suddenly, Riddle’s gentle kindness from earlier felt a little more… sharp.

Azul’s lips relax into what you’ve come to know as his deal-making face – though you are sure that if he were to try and make a deal here your brother would execute him without a second thought. “A little kindness to our dearest benefactor couldn’t hurt. They are, by all means, the key to our future success. They deserve at least respect for that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leona drawls, slumping into his seat, “I’ve heard the whole song and dance. Being a suck-up isn’t gonna help your case any more than me though. Credit where credit’s due, they’re damn perceptive for being so sheltered.”

Something more akin to a sneer than a smile climbs its way onto your face, “Oh, thank you so much. How kind, Prince Leona. I’m flattered, truly.”

“Is something the matter down there?” Your brother called. Your side of the table fell quiet, a chill running over you all (except Leona, who was never bothered by your brother's icy demeenor). 

Used to the cold feeling climbing up your spine, you recovered the fastest, a sweet smile gracing your face, “No, not at all Your Majesty. We were just discussing the arrangement between ourselves.”

He hums, staring you down. You do not break, like you know he wants you to. You would not bend. You could not. You had to show him you were capable, now more than ever. 

Finally, he smiles, “Perhaps that would be good for all of us – to discuss why you are participating in this game for my beloved younger sibling’s heart?”

Your lips pull up into a lopsided smirk. So this was the game your brother was playing at. Force them to lay their cards on the table to start, while yours stayed close to your chest. It explained why he was so secretive about everything, and while you did not like being a pawn in his scheme, you could understand his methods. Masterful planning, as usual. Your frustration at his lack of communication is watered down by how impressed you are. 

“Well, Princess, since you are the hand to be won, who would you like to hear from first?” Vil asks, all smiles as if he wasn’t playing a game of mental chess this whole time.

If you wanted to succeed in this whole… suitor business, you had to be smarter. Faster. More precise.

“Ah, there are so many lovely options here. Where shall we begin?” You hum, feigning thought as you gazed across the table, then finally landed on Leona.

“Well… since I was already discussing it, I’ll start with these three gentlemen!” You exclaim.

Leona sighs, annoyance clear on his face. The other two seem to accept their fate rather willingly, ready to come up with their noble (or not-so-noble) reasons as to why you should give them the time of day. ‘The princess is kind, pretty, intelligent– blah, blah, blah’ the usual. You had no intent to actually let them speak to start. So you tutted at them.

“Don’t worry, I won’t put any of you on the spot,” you hum sweetly, “See, I did a bit of digging, just to see what I could find, and did I find.”

You decide the least noble of the three would be put on the chopping block first, “Leona has no real stake in this fight for my hand. He does not like me, he does not have any real bearing on his kingdoms welfare, and quite honestly there’s very little gain that the Sunset Savannah can earn from an arrangement between itself and our kingdom… except political prowess. To marry into our family would give them even more power and control than they already have, but they don’t need it nearly as badly as others at this table. Is that right, Leona?”

Leona huffs out of his nose, clapping slowly at you, bemused by your straightforwardness. If there was one thing you did like about Leona, is that he acquiesced when he knew he had to. He was prideful, but he did not let it get in the way of his presentation, and that was refreshing compared to other royalty. “Spot on, princess.”

“Now… Riddle,” you say thoughtfully, “You are a political pawn for whatever your mother wants, and right now she wants power. Much like Leona, you are here to better your standing among the other kingdoms and give your cabinet more moving room in this metaphorical game of chess. The Rosedom is already incredibly close with us, however, so I can only imagine the lack of movement stems from low funds?”

He nods, eyes narrowed in something akin to embarrassment and annoyance. Unlike Leona, Riddle’s and his Kingdom’s pride was everything to him, and you are afraid you might’ve squashed it – along with any friendliness that had been there earlier. “That is… true. We are going through a horrible economic depression, and this arrangement would, hopefully, help us climb out of it.”

“Speaking of money…” you point to Idia, who looks like he might’ve pissed himself then and there, “your family owns STYX?”

He nods, eyes watering and wide, like you were pointing a gun to his head. He is nothing like the man who borderline threatened you in the library some weeks ago, and the power rush you get from scaring him is a little too satisfying.

“I’m not exactly sure what you do there. I assume it’s magic-related, knowing your family history, and it likely isn’t cheap. I also understand our… ahem… former magic research team was one of the best in Twisted Wonderland. I can only imagine that your family sent you here for money and better resources?”

He whimpers, and you take that as a resounding yes, shifting your focus to Kalim, who greets it with a wide grin. It makes you wonder, briefly, why there is even a debate about who you might marry in the first place. Kalim is kind, generous, rich, and incredibly handsome. Not to mention that servant Jamil of his is rather… charming. (The romanticist in you cannot help but imagine midnight trysts and forbidden love). Then you recall the horrible tales of attempted assassinations and remember why you never visited the Scalding Sands to begin with.

“I remember reading somewhere that your father was looking for more direct trade routes?” You ask aloud.

He nods, confirming it with all the delight in the world, “The route Father has takes nearly two weeks, and many of the goods can easily be stolen in the dangerous territory on the outskirts of our kingdoms.”

“It would half the travel time and double profit,” You add smartly, “not to mention it eliminates the worry of marrying you off to someone who might want to kill you and your family. On top of that, we are already friends, so we could skip the pesky getting to know each other part of all this.”

His grin manages to widen, which charms you in a way only someone like him could. If only there were no major risks to your livelihood…

Your eyes flit over to Azul, who gives you a kind, placid smile. Fake, you think. Azul Ashengrotto was a mystery to you, despite knowing he had his claws (or, well, tentacles) in your kingdom's marketplace for years. He came out of nowhere from the deep sea with his two lackeys, and you hadn’t been rid of him. However, he had never bothered you until now.

“You are… an unexpected suitor, Azul.” You state plainly.

“My apologies. I did not mean to inconvenience you,” he hums back, disgustingly kind.

“No, no, it makes things more interesting,” you dismiss with an equally kind smile, “the only thing I can imagine you would want is connections and power. Marrying a royal makes you one by default which means you can expand your business in ways that you could never do beforehand. Though, I’m sure you could find a way without me.”

His smile cools into a more tense one, though he does not do anything more. Finally, you are faced with Malleus, who is smirking in interest at your tirade. You know very little of Malleus. You know very little of Fae. You do know, however, too much about politics. With this, you can reasonably infer a few things about this arrangement for your horned suitor.

“Prince Malleus Draconia of The Valley of Thornes is, perhaps, my most interesting choice among you all,” you begin, rubbing your chin thoughtfully, “From what I know, your Kingdom has plenty of influence, more than enough money, and a very strong army. You don’t need our connections, you have no benefit economically, and human soldiers would be a laughable offer to you. So, what, could you want from this?”

The table is silent as you mull it over, many of the men equally curious as you are. (Sans Leona, of course, who would rather die than think about Malleus for more than a few seconds at a time). You cannot think of anything Malleus or his kingdom would gain from an alliance with humans, but he must need something. Your eyes glance over your brother and you notice, for just a second, a moment, something akin to nervousness crosses his face. Idia, you realize, also appears to have a knowing nervousness in his eyes.

Then, all at once, you connect it. It’s magic. It’s those monsters Rook is hunting. Malleus needs human help, for some reason, with those monsters. You can’t voice that, of course, because your brother can’t know that you know. So, you come up with something on the fly.

“You need connection. Not for power, but because you want it,” you say finally, “not to say you are lonely… perhaps you just wish for a different kind of connection? Human connection?”

His smirk slides into an impressed smile, posture somehow more straight, and eyes lighting up in delighted approval. You hate to admit that he is quite handsome when he is charmed like this. “Yes, exactly. You are very observant, and much more thoughtful than I have given you credit for.”

“Ah… thank you…” you say slowly, doing your best not to show your annoyance at the unintentional jab to your intellect.

“I have read many books about humans and their behaviors. Their social habits, interests, abilities, and their kingdoms all fascinate me. I wanted a chance to come here and befriend some of you,” he admits rather willingly, and you find it rather cute how honest he is. Oh- wait, you’re supposed to dislike him! Stay stubborn!

“Well, I am honored that you chose me,” you say kindly, an overused platitude that always seemed to say enough when you needed it.

“Your observations are impressive,” your brother finally speaks up, and you can tell there is a thing of worry deep in his eyes, “truly… I have no idea when you had the time to gather this information.”

“People talk. In the city, the castle, the courtyard. If you listen, you learn,” you state simply.

You know you are a prize to be won, you understand that you cannot stop that. What you can do is make it as difficult as possible for everyone else involved, and that is exactly what you will do. Kindness is a weapon in this game, and you will not be cut by soft words and gentle gestures. 

So the dinner continues on, now with the knowledge that you are also playing their game. That you, perhaps, are several steps ahead of them. The tenseness does not subside, but neither does the conversation. You discuss politics with Riddle, your love of board games with Azul and Idia, food with Kalim, and even snark back and forth about your families with Leona. Malleus, for all its worth, discusses his enjoyment of your castles architecture, and you promise to show him the gargoyles near the south exit sometime during his stay.

It is… pleasant. Normal. A relief from all that has been stressing you. Despite the looming thought that all of this is for the show, you enjoy yourself as much as you can afford. Once all of you have eaten your fill, your brother gives another delightful speech, and you are all dismissed back to your quarters for the night. Except, your company this time is Riddle, not Epel.

“Oh! I forgot to ask, those horse riding lessons, are they still on the table?” you ask excitedly.

He blinks, clearly taken aback, but recovers quickly, “Ah, yes, those. Of course, I would not offer something and not mean it.”

You smile, “How gentlemanly.”

“It’s common courtesy,” he rebukes.

“Not many people around here know what that means, so it’s refreshing to see that you do,” you state simply, enjoying the way his face heats up, “Would you… like to meet my horse?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you had no expertise?”

“I don’t, but I do have a horse,” you laugh, “she’s my mother’s horse's daughter – a little confusing, I know.”

He laughs, a genuine one, “You want to introduce me tonight? Is it not late?”

You frown a little, evading your gaze, “I… rarely sleep well anyway. It would be a nice distraction if you’d allow me?”

He does not say anything else but nods as if his mind is made up. You walk to the stables side by side, comfortable quiet overcoming both of you. You’ve realized you do not need too many words with Riddle, which is nice compared to how many words you’ve come to need with everyone else. He is quiet as he slides open the door to the stables, and he is quiet and you lead him to the stable you know holds your girl. 

You know that she is spoiled and well cared for, her glossy black coat and braided mane enough to tell you that. She is ridden frequently enough by visitors and trainers, so she is well-behaved when you reach in to let her sniff your hand. It takes her a moment, but somehow, she recognizes you and presses her nose against your palm. 

“She is beautiful,” Riddle mutters, clearly not meaning to say it out loud.

“I know, such a shame that I can’t ride her,” you laugh, “humiliating actually. What princess doesn’t know how to ride a horse – her own horse even?”

He tuts at you, moving to slide the stable door open, excitedly observing her physique. She does not jerk away when he touches her, which only seems to excite him more. It’s cute, you think, but you don’t want to ruin his moment by voicing it. Finally, he sighs and turns to you with a… pitying look.

“It is not… a secret that you are sheltered – even more than I was. I can’t blame you for not living a normal life when you were not allotted it, and I think you should be kinder to yourself as well,” he responds.

You don’t know what to say to that. What could you say to that? You knew your childhood and life as it was, was not normal. Not even normal for being the princess of a powerful kingdom. Other royals were afforded more freedom – even Kalim who constantly had a bounty on his head was allowed to do more, to see more, to be more than you. You just never liked to think about it, and you still didn’t want to. Not yet, anyhow. Not with everything else on your mind.

“I appreciate the advice, Riddle,” you sigh finally, which relieves him of the tension that was steadily growing in his shoulders.

He rubs the side of your horse, patting her affectionately. She huffs, turning away from him. It’s a funny sight, to see such a big thing cower from a small man. You do not hide your amusement this time, stepping into the stable with him. He smiles softly at you, beckoning you closer, and then he hands you a brush from a bucket.

“A good way to build trust between rider and horse is to spend quality time together,” he explains, “while you don’t have much time together yet, we can start tonight by brushing her.”

He positions himself behind you, keeping a respectable enough distance between your bodies, then guides your movements across her strong body. You try not to pay attention to the warmth emanating off your bodies, or how his touch is so gentle on top of yours. You try to convince yourself that this positioning is necessary for the task at hand, that he is just being kind. (You are certain that Riddle is not the type to lead unsuspecting young princesses into dark stables for nefarious purposes.) You glance back to look at his face, which is red hot and does not make you feel any better.

“Are there… benefits for brushing a coat so short?” you ask, trying anything to take your mind off your predicament.

“Several.” his breath is hot against your face, “despite the coat being short, it helps keep the skin healthy and removes any debris that could harm the horse in the long run.” you despise yourself for speaking in the first place, “It also allows the rider to do a checkup to ensure everything is fine physically.” You curse the Seven for allowing you to be so stupid, “And, of course, it is often used as a means of strengthening your bond with the horse.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Fascinating.”

He steps away after you are thoroughly hot and bothered, sighing to himself about something or other. You were too caught in your head to eavesdrop this time. Eventually, you set the brush back where you saw him grab it from, brushing off your silk gloves, then groaning as you realized you were still in the dress. The bottom of it was covered in dirt, and your gloves had bits of horse hair stuck in it.

“Perhaps the stables were not the best idea…” you sigh, pulling at the hair in your gloves.

Riddle grins, “I think you’re right. My shoes are disgusting.”

“I don’t even want to check mine,” you groan.

You share a laugh, hearty and good, then dust yourselves off and wander your way to the fountain which is not too far from the stables. You discuss your love for sweets and learn of his affection for the guards he had brought with him – including Ace and Deuce, which surprised you with how harsh he was on them. It was tough love, of course, because contrary to popular belief Riddle Rosehearts was not a monster.

Reaching the fountain, the two of you settle upon its lip. From here you can see the exit where you’re meant to meet Rook. Your heart stutters at the thought. Because you were seeing Rook again or because you were meant to learn magic under your brother's nose… that was yet to be decided. Maybe it was both.

“You are a hunter, yes?” Riddle asks suddenly, gaze following yours.

“I…” You hesitate, no you weren’t. Not anymore… not technically. “Not really. I used to be, and I was good. But these past few years my brother all but banned me from doing so.”

He hums, “From what I’ve heard, that hasn’t stopped you at all.”

You feel your face heat up. What happened on your birthday was sure to get around, but no one had been bold enough to bring it up to you yet. You should feel proud of your little rebellion, but you felt almost shameful. “It was… a last hurrah. That's all.” Besides, you think, after seeing the blot monster you’d rather not go hunting. Not without magic, at least. Ah, yes, magic. You were meant to ask him about that, hmm?

Truthfully, the idea of asking about magic was scary, because your brother had made it that way. But… all of your suitors were powerful magicians. Magic was natural to them, which helped ease their worries a bit. “You’re… a magician, right? Ace and Deuce mentioned it once.”

He hesitates. Clearly, he was aware of the rule your brother implemented and withheld, but he was not a liar. “...I am. I’ve been practicing since I could walk.”

You nod, pulling at the fabric of your dress, “Is it… does it hurt? To perform spells and such?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost incredulous at the suggestion, “Magic is harmless – not harmless, I suppose, but it does not harm the user.” He huffs in disbelief, “I was aware you didn’t practice magic, but I assumed you knew the basics.”

You shake your head, “What I was taught I’ve practically forgotten.”

He sighs, “I can’t believe that… how long has it been since then?”

You shrug. You don’t know. One day your parents were gone, and with them your magic professor and most other magic-related items in the castle. “My brother…”

“Is a giant prick?” A voice came from the bushes nearby, and with it emerged Leona. Does he… never sleep in his room?

“What in the world are you doing?” Riddle questions before you can.

“Wasn’t feeling like going back to my room yet,” He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “I was enjoying my nap until you two interrupted.”

“This is my garden, Leona.” You state, and he shrugs. “Also, don’t talk about my brother like that.”

“He is a prick. A royal asshole,” he repeats, “everyone thinks it. I know you do too.”

Riddle nods, surprisingly agreeing with Leona, “While I wouldn’t put it like that, your brother is… unpleasant most times.”

“Too much influence and power got to his head,” Leona emphasizes with a sharp point to his head, “he makes everyone around him miserable, even his own family.”

You huff, glaring down at the muddied edge of your dress. He was right. You were miserable and the only one to blame was your brother. He’d conditioned you well too, wanting to defend him. Though… part of that was just because you wanted to argue with Leona.

“And since we’re talking about it, his thing with magic is… insane!” He exclaims, with the most emotions you’d ever seen from him. “I don’t need magic to function, no one does, but to withhold that from an entire kingdom might be his worst offense.”

Riddle adamantly nods along to what he says, “It’s incredibly hypocritical as well. He uses magic all the time, but he keeps it from everyone except a select few. Even sending raids to rid the city of magic every few months. It’s the most extreme abuse of power I’ve seen, and I’m my mother's son.”

You… were not aware of these raids. Sure, magic use was prohibited, but… how many of your citizens had been put away and punished for it. None, you hoped, but hope hadn’t gotten you very far recently. Sevens, you could feel your blood boil. 

“The only thing worse is that he invited that stupid reptile Malleus,” Leona growled, “No one likes him, he’s not wanted.”

Something about his attitude makes something… click in your brain. You could use this. You needed more allies you could trust within the castle walls. Their disdain for your brother was proof enough that they were not under his thumb. 

“He’s up to something,” you declare, drawing both sets of eyes to you.

“Well no duh–” Leona starts, but you cut him off quickly.

“No. He’s doing something far more dangerous and serious than usual,” You clarify, “And he’s using me – my hand in marriage – as a cover-up. A reason to get powerful people here.”

“Oh yeah…?” Leona quirks a brow.

“If he… was planning something big, and he wanted powerful people, why wouldn’t we know about it already?” Riddle asks, suspicious of the whole idea.

“Because he needs you to make it look more natural.” You answer simply.

Leona chews on the idea for a while, and then smirks, “Clever bastard. She’s right.” Riddle hums curiously, “Think about it. If he just invited Malleus or Idia, it would’ve been suspicious. We’re all cover-ups for whatever the hell he’s planning.”

“Exactly!” You exclaim, standing and turning so you can face both of them, “And, I have an idea of what exactly he’s up to.”

Riddle watches you intently, and Leona gestures for you to go on. Your chest hums at the approval. Finally. Respect you deserve.

“Now, Leona, you’re going to laugh and I’m going to ignore you,” You express, “You know those ink monsters from our fairytale books, it has something to do with those.”

Leona rolls his eyes, “I told you, those aren’t real. They’re kiddy tales to scare people like you off.”

Riddle, to your shared shock, hushes him. “Let them speak, you oaf.”

You take a deep breath, smile at him, and continue, “I know they’re real because I saw one. I killed one myself the night I stood Malleus up at my party.” While you didn’t exactly kill it, you decide the details are trivial, “Whatever’s going on, it has to do with those… things. I know it, and I have to figure out whatever it is without my brother knowing.”

Leona scoffs, but Riddle thinks it over, deeply, “You really believe her? Could’ve been a big scary bear.” 

“May I remind you of the grizzly head in our library? Who do you think did that?” You snap back. Riddle is quick to end the argument before it gets too intense.

“Many of our hunters, our very best come back with stories of inky beasts. Some are so taken by their fear that they refuse to step foot in the forest again,” Riddle explains as he thinks it over, “So, with that in mind, they very well could be real. It would be too convenient for it to be mass hysteria, and I doubt so many hunters would come back with the same description of these monsters if it were some elaborate lie.”

Hope blossoms in your chest. Yes.Yes! Someone is listening. Someone understands! Leona sighs, not quite defeated, but not as skeptical as before. He seems… annoyed more than anything as he speaks.

“One of my retainers back home – Ruggie, you know him,” you do know him. You like Ruggie. “He came back one day whining about some… inky… thing he saw out picking dandelions or something. I thought he was just losing it… but- Anyway, even if they are real, what can we do about it?”

“Magic,” you state simply, “it can only be defeated by magic. You can widdle it down with physical attacks, but the only way to kill it is magic. I have a feeling the situation is much more out of hand than we expect, which is why my brother is being so hush-hush about it.”

Riddle nods in agreement, “Inviting Idia should be proof enough of that.”

“Okay, so we got that figured out,” Leona interrupts, “what benefit is it for us to get in the way of your brother? He’s got it under control.”

You frown. Sure, it looks like that, but knowing your brother… it probably was far out of control. That's why he was doing what he was doing, to get control. But diplomatic relations can only get you so far. A little selfish part of you also just wanted to prove yourself too.

“The more people working on a problem the better,” Riddle saves with precision, “the more angles we come at the issue with, the less likely it is to get out of hand. No matter the methods.”

You smile at Riddle for the millionth time that night, and nod in affirmation, “And, if you help me, I can help both of you.”

“How’s that?” Leona scoffs.

“First, I can essentially make any semblance of this marriage thing disappear for you, and give your family what they want,” you explain, “You don’t have to work, and you don’t have to deal with your brother scolding you. Riddle will be given sufficient funds and resources to help the Rosedom get back on its feet. You can’t lose.”

He tenses his jaw, flexing it back and forth as he thinks it over. With Leona, there’s no promise he’ll say yes, but there's no promise he says no either. Finally, he sighs, “Alright, fine. I’ll help you, but only when I want to.”

“Deal!” you exclaim, “Riddle?”

“I’ll help you. It benefits both of us, regardless of any reward you give me after the fact,” He answers.

You grin, and as if the world itself was bending to your whim, the clock tower tolled midnight. Perfect timing for an escape.

[tainted-red]

Careful.

Part one.

TWS: Smut, Language, Dub con, Threesum.

Summary: Y/n and her best friends have to share a room for a school trip.

Gosh you loved your friends.

If some guy wouldn't take a hint, Your friends would beat his ass. If you felt sad, Your friends would comfort you. If you were bored, your friends would entertain you.

They cared about you more than your parents.

Sure you were the girl of the group. But it didn't matter to them. They would still fight you, your losing was inedible. They talked to you about girl shit, and you gave them good advice.

You were currently on a boat and you and the whole school would taking the a boat to Mexico for a special school trip. Something about the school grade having all student get up to 90%.

You get to share a room with your best friend's.

Rafe Cameron your best friend since middle school. He bought you a slice of pizza since you had no lunch, and ever since then you became besties.

He was the relaxed one, didn't care about any girl besides you. If you need someone to watch a movie with, he's your guy.

Kelce Leroy, you met him in your homeroom in grade 9, he worked with you on a project with Rafe, and you all became a group since then.

He was the more fun one, always on your hip about letting loose. Being cool.

Topper Thorton, you met him at summer camp in grade six. You became close because he picked up all your period products in grade 6.

A bunch of boys thought it would be funny to go through your bag, they through around your pads and embarrassed you. Making you cry. Topper picked up all your stuff and comforted you.

He was the more caring one. Always saying you can talk to him if you need to. He was basically the mom of the group or dad.

It was perfect cause you were the more rebellious one. Always trying to start something.

Kelce cheering you on, Rafe laughing on the side, and topper trying to stop it.

You are a kook. They liked that, more like Rafe did.

You were currently sitting with Rafe and Kelce as Toppee fetched you some drinks.

“I think I'm gonna ask Jj out” You decide “No, he's a pogue Y/n” Rafe rolled his eyes.

“So what. I'm tired of these stupid restrictions you make. He's nice and hot” You giggle.

“He's dirty as well as his Pogue friends. But Rafe didn't you kiss Kiara in like 9th grade?” Kelce reminds us.

“Oh yeah, I remember. Everyone thought you were weird cause she was two years younger” You laugh with Kelce.

“You dared me to” Rafe remarks.

“Cause she was in love with you, Sarah told me” You shrug.

Topper finally returns to us “here I got diet coke y/n, Sprite for Kelce and Water for Rafe” Topper said handing his stuff when he said our names.

We all thanked Topper.

“They said we will be in Mexico in like an hour from now, Mrs trench said were all sharing a room In the hotel” you told them.

“Two beds” you added.

“I ain't sharing a bed with you guys that's gay” Kelce fake gagged.

“Don't be homophobic. I have to share a bed with one of you guys, so I'm the one losing here” you scoff.

“Nose goes” Kelce shouts as he puts his finger on his nose, the other guys doing it as well.

Rafe doing it last “Hah you two have to share a bed” Kelce laughed.

You slapped him lightly on the chest.

“Why don't you guys just do something fair? Or sleep in a different room” You suggest.

“Mr. Kenneth said if he says anyone sneaking around there expelled” Topper buds in.

“How about we race” Rafe proposes to the boys.

“Why don't I have a choice in this? It's my personal space” you argue.

They all turn to me “Fine, Y/n can pick” Rafe grunts.

“Whoever is nicest to me all day can” You establish.

“Easy” Topper chuckles.

Rafe grabs my coke and opens it for you “Would you like me to hold it for you while you drink, your highness” Rafe half-jokes.

“Yes, peasant” you giggle.

He lightly tilts your chin up, slowly pouring the cold liquid into your mouth.

He stops and lets go of me “thank you kind sir” you wink at him.

“Anything for you” Rafe clicks his tongue.

“Would you like me to spit in your mouth? What the fuck was that guys? So sexual” Kelce lets out a deep chuckle.

“Watch it” Rafe warns him.

“Yes daddy” Kelce fake moans.

Causing us to laugh, besides Rafe.

Rafe leans towards my ear “if you don't fucking pick me ill ignore you for a while” Rafe gives notice to you.

He leans back out and smiles at everyone.

This is going to be a long trip.

“Anyways y/n, Kayla wants to talk to you. Something about her dead dog” Topper just now tells you.

You get up and smile at the boys “I'll be back. Next time tell me sooner” I look topper in the eyes “Yeah sorry” he apologises.

You pat him on the back as you walk away.

Hours have past now.

You and the guys were finally in the bedroom “So who is it y/n?” Topper asks, sitting on the bed beside you.

“Um I chose Rafe” You huff.

“Seriously, I gave you a foot massage y/n” Kelce shouts “Yeah and I carried you all day” Topper reminds me.

Standing up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sorry but Rafe did buy me that necklace” You shrug.

“Whatever. Mine as well suck his dick y/n” Kelce mutters.

“Fuck off. You have to share a bed with topper loser” you shout while fake laughing.

“That's it. I'm sleeping on the floor” Kelce sniffs.

“What's so bad about me” Topper asks.

“Nothing he just doesn't wanna” you shrug.

Rafe gets on the left side of the bed, laying down.

Kelce grabs a blanket and pillow and the remote.

Turning on sponge bob SquarePants.

You lay down beside Rafe facing him.

“Thank you y/n” He smiles at you, cupping your face “Thank you for the necklace. It's beautiful” You smile back.

He slowly leans in, lightly kissing your check.

Then kissing all over your head.

He started to playfully fight with you.

He pins you down and starts to tickle you, laughter screaming out of your mouth.

“Rafe- Stop- I can't breath” you wheeze.

He stops tickling you.

You catch your breath and somehow end up on top of him.

Attempting to tickle him “you forgot I'm not ticklish” Rafe licks his upper lip.

Placing his hands on your hips.

Slowly making you grind on him.

“Stop Rafe- we can get caught” You whisper.

“Let them watch” Rafe smirks.

Making you go faster.

Catching the eye of kelce “Ayo, what are you guys doing?” Kelce shouts while laughing.

Sure I made out with the guys sometimes. But usually nothing like this. I only once got to second base with Kelce. We were both very drunk.

“You guys having sex?” kelce asks, getting up.

Topper now turned over looking at us.

“No guys just having some fun” You laugh.

Rafe groaning beneath you.

“Let me join babe” Kelce jokes.

Suddenly Rafe tugs on your shirt. You take it off, throwing it on the floor.

Rafe smiles at your body. Getting harder under you.

“Oh shit. Real-life porn” Kelce laughs.

“Come here Kelce” You giggle.

Getting off Rafe.

Kelce sits on the bed and you push him down.

Taking off his shirt, crawling on top of him.

“Your so hot” kelce groans.

You kiss his stomach up to his neck, licking up to his ear lobe.

“Can I suck your dick in front of them” I whisper in his ear, lightly biting the lobe of his ear.

“Yes Miss” Kelce smirks.

You go on your knees in front of him.

Sliding his pants down, playing with the bulge in his boxers.

Rafe goes behind you and starts to kiss down your neck. Unclipping your bra.

“Can I fuck you y/n” Rafe asks.

“Yes” You moan as he dry humps you.

Rafe takes off his pants and slips off your shorts.

“Seriously, in front of me guys,” Topper complains.

“Come here then” you moan.

Topper quickly gets off the bed running to your side.

“How can I include you” You moan as Rafe snaps his hips into you.

You pull down kelce boxers. Stroking him slowly.

“Can I just watch? Maybe record” Topper requests.

“Fine” You groan.

You start to take kelce inside your mouth.

Topper gets his phone and starts to record “If you show anyone this ill fucking kill you topper” Rafe grunts.

“Yes I know, it's just for us” He smirks. Slowly jerking himself off.

You bob your head vastly for kelce, and grind on Rafe as he slams into you.

“I'm gonna cum” Kelce groans, gripping the bed sheets.

You felt him twitch in your mouth then liquid hit your throat.

You go slow letting him get off his high.

He gets up watching you swallow all of his cum.

“Gosh, you're so perfect y/n” Rafe hissed as he slams inside your pussy.

You felt your climax build up as he said that.

He starts to rub your clit in circular motion.

“Fuck Rafe- don't stop” You whimper.

You felt your legs go numb as you came all over him.

With a few more bucks he pulls out and cums all over your back.

Letting you catch your breath. Rafe then offers “Come on, we're gonna get you clean”.

He picks you up with the boys behind you.

Rafe runs the bath water and places you in it “Find some soap” Rafe demands.

Topper looks around and finds a little bottle of bubble bath, Rafe adds it to the water. Creating bubbles in the water.

“Thank you” You smile at Rafe “Get washed then we're gonna watch some movies order food and cuddle” Rafe lights up a candle.

Rafe made this all worth it.

[scarybabe]

TW: ED mention

Hey, I just wanted to say it's really nice to see someone in your line of work talking about actual weight science, intuitive eating, and things along that line in a feedist space. As someone into feedism who has also been recovering from a restrictive ED, I really appreciate seeing a feedist SWer so knowledgeable and down-to-earth about their body, future plans and realistic expectations about it all. Thanks for being here. 🙂

thank you! 💗 I don’t see a reason why someone can’t enjoy this fetish to whatever level desired and then take a break to enjoy the added pounds and eat food that makes them feel good & be able to live a long happy life. That’s all I want 🥰 to live deliciously!

[depravitycentral]

is the…cum jar…the reason why nobunaga is worse than shalnark…………

Tw: non-consensual recording, restriction of rights, smells (? natural body odor I guess?), implied non-con, if Shalnark could live with the smell of your pussy in his nose at all times then that smile of his would be genuine

The cum jar is the reason Nobunaga is worse than any of them.

(Including Feitan, so to the anon that asked why Nobunaga's darling is pitied more than Feitan's, that's the answer in simple, short terms.)

(But of course, aside from the jar, the excessive touching, referring to himself as Daddy, and the lack of consistent hygiene/showering certainly don't earn him any points, either.)

That's not to say that Shalnark doesn't have any issues or weird idiosyncrasies of his own, though. He's a little more subtle than Nobunaga, but not by too big of a margin.

Shalnark's penchant for recording you is really quite invasive. If the cameras he secretly placed in your apartment while he was still stalking you aren't enough proof of this, consider the fact that he's still recording you once he's kidnapped you, only he's less secretive about it now.

Now, instead of having small, discrete cameras placed into things like a stuffed animal, a book cover, or an unused outlet, they're just out in the open. The small, black cameras are clearly visible against the off-white walls of the apartment he keeps you in, standing out like a beacon. Plus, when the lights are off, the red flashing light on each is still on - taunting you from the corner of your vision, declaring that even while you're sleeping and he's not in the room, he's seeing everything.

They're everywhere, too - you've counted at least four in your bedroom space, one for each corner of the room. There's two in the bathroom; one covers the room at large, so he can see you brushing your teeth or drying yourself off or even using the toilet, and the other's angled to catch your every movement in the shower. (He's got an additional two waterproof ones in the shower that you don't know about yet - one sits in the center of the shower head (installed for the sole purpose of seeing and capturing everything should you decide to use the shower head for some stress relieving, personal activities), and one sits on the top of the plastic drain cover, so that he can get a nice view from below (when you drop your loofah or soap up your legs, the camera gets a nice, full view of your ass and cunt, a sight that Shalnark will always pause on and screenshot, the image being saved to the some dozens of photo folders he has dedicated to your nude body).

And he'll make you watch the footage with him, too - with a smile on his face and his fingers nearly trembling from his excitement and joy at seeing your horrified expression. He likes to narrate everything, too, prefacing with what you're about to do to show that he's already watched the footage multiple times - enough to be able to recite every action and move you make. He likes the way it makes you squirm, and he also just enjoys watching you, too.

Outside of that voyeuristic habit, Shalnark is certainly no saint when it comes to more risqué reasons why he might be placed lower on the desirability chart of Phantom Troupe yanderes. That is, he has this weird habit of limiting how often you can shower and bathe. At first, he uses this as a tactic to punish you or deter you from certain behaviors he deems undesirable. (Like avoiding his touch or ignoring him.) He figures that by letting you grow dirty and greasy and desperate to clean yourself, you'll be more likely to bend to his wishes, and frankly, it works - you feel disgusting with all the sweat caked into your skin, the sudden whiff of body order making you cringe when you move your arms (he won't provide you with deodorant, of course).

It'll drive you crazy, but no matter how complacent you are, or how receptive you are to his attempts at molding you into what he wants, Shalnark will become hesitant to give into your pleas to let you shower.

Because while he agrees that your skin feels better when it's freshly washed (softer, cleaner, more pure), there's something about the way you smell that gets him a little hot under the collar. It's your natural scent, something that's so you. It may be your body odor, sure, or just your pheromones (he likes to think that's what makes him want to rip off his pants and fuck you until you're crying nearly every time he sees you), but regardless, you'll find that he's much handsier and touchier when you haven't showered in a few days.

And frankly, that's saying a lot for Shalnark - he's already all over you, but now he's burying his face into your neck and inhaling, moaning at the way your skin smells. He's coming up behind you and pressing every inch of his body against yours, pinning your hips against the kitchen counter and letting his hands slip under your shirt to cup the undersides of your breasts, only to remove them and smell his hands because fuck your sweat smells good.

He's just weird, and it'll freak you out, making you both uncomfortable and self-conscious because there's absolutely no way he could enjoy the scents and odors that your body is producing. Why does he like the smell of your hair when it hasn't been washed in way too long? Why does he likes the smell of your cunt after it hasn't been washed in four days?

It's simple, really - because it's you, and Shalnark likes anything and everything that has to do with you. So he'll let you shower eventually, but he might only let you wash your hair (if you desire) or your armpits, perhaps. Areas he knows drive you crazy to have dirty. But other areas?

Well, if you know what's good for you, you won't touch your pretty little pussy without his explicit permission that you can wash it.

(Often, he'll throw you down onto the bed after you've exited the shower, forcing your legs apart and burying his face against your cunt, inhaling deeply and letting a smile sit comfortably on his lips, oddly genuine while a red flush sits high on his cheeks. You just smell too damn good, so don't be surprised when the smell of sex and musk and him get added to the mix, the cum dripping from your pretty little hole certainly not helping the smell.)

And really, that's what makes Shalnark so horrible - he's so omnipresent, worming his way into every aspect of your life, until you're asking him permission for anything and everything. And if you choose to disobey, all those cameras and recording devices will showcase the truth. (And even if they don't, he's got enough photoshopping and editing experience to make it look like you did whatever he wants.)

So while Nobunaga is ultimately the worst because you have to ingest his disgusting, rancid cum, Shalnark isn't too much of an upgrade. His humiliation and dehumanization is a different brand, yes, but it'll leave you feeling just as weak and incapable.

So really, pick your poison - I just happen to prefer greasy hair and constant surveillance over being forced to eat something made specially for you.

[little-emerald-snake]

Kinktober Day 4

Breath Play - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1k words

After Sebastian had finished his wizarding education he had decided to invite his girlfriend to live in the small Feldcroft home, claiming it was far too big for just him all by himself after having lived with two other people for most of the time. She was delighted to join him and they spent their free time, when not working for the ministry, reading their respective books in comfortable silence together.

She’d gained an interest in rather spicy romance novels as of late, which Sebastian was happy to take her to an amiable bookstore that kept a great selection of when they had the time. She’d selected a new one this week that the bookkeep mentioned was a little more intense than her previous selections.

She’d happily taken it anyway, cracking it open as soon as they’d arrived home, her legs comfortably draped across Sebastian’s lap. It didn’t take her long to see what the shopkeeper had meant, right now the main character was being pinned down by her throat as her lover gave long languid strokes into her.

She shifted, pressing her thighs together as she kept reading. Sebastian had noticed the movement and gave a low chuckle that sent heat straight to her core. Liquid fire burned inside of her as she read on, Seb’s fingers rubbing small circles into her calf, his other hand still holding his own book.

A full blown smirk spread across his face as she pressed her thighs together again. The main character describing the stars she saw as her lover restricted her airway. Heat proliferated through her now as she expeditiously climbed the ladder of need. Sebastian no longer was reading, his full attention focused on her now as her breathing had quickened. “Care to share what has you so bothered, love?”

She flushed, handing him the book, pointing to the page she had been reading. His smirk persisted as he took the book from her and began scanning the page. His eyes widened, causing heat to blossom over her face. He finished the page, his gaze turning absolutely feral as he zeroed in on her parted lips.”Does this idea really excite you, love?”

She swallowed nervously, nodding as her tongue darted between her lips to wet her lips. He wasted no time, sliding her legs off of his lap and placing them back on the couch before gently climbing over and straddling her legs. He bends, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, one hand placed gently beside her head to hold him up while the other traces up her side teasingly.

She kisses him back, her urgency emanating into their fevered kiss. Sebastian nips her lip, eliciting a gasp which only spurs him on. His free hand sliding up to the buttons of her blouse, eager to expose her soft skin, the promise of unexplored pleasure hanging thickly in the air between them.

A wanton moan from between her lips being the final straw in his resolve. He shoved her blouse off with a bit of help, his fingers crawling up her skin, erupting goosebumps in their wake. Her thighs eagerly pressed together as his fingers teased lightly into the hollow of her neck. He chuckled darkly, wrapping lithe olive fingers around her through and squeezing gently at first.

The gasp she produced had him squeezing harder, watching her face as her eyes rolled back and she canted her hips up toward his. He smirked, letting go only to reach down and help her out of her skirt, bra and panties. He crowded down into her space again, his fingers coming to wrap around the bobbing of her throat and once again eliciting a breathy moan from her.

Sebastian’s eyes glittered with intrigue as he carefully watched her hips lift with excitement, her eyes meeting his with a silent plea on her lips for more pressure. He watched carefully as he squoze harder, her eyes fluttering closed as she whimpered feverishly. He sat back on his heels, bringing his other hand teasingly over her exposed breasts, gentle touch bringing her nipples to eager peaks.

He chuckled softly as he tweaked each one, eyes roaming her delicious body laid out in front of him. He finally brought his hand to her heated sex, wet with excitement. He lifted his hand on her throat just enough to let her get a gasp of air in before bringing his thumb to her sensitive nub, gently sliding down to dip into her juices and spreading them upward.

She whimpered as he teased her needy sex, her hips needily bucking at his ministrations. He watched her eyes intently as he spun his hand, sliding not one but two digits into her soaking wet sex. His thumb was still teasing her sensitive clit as he went, coaxing whimpers from her sweet lips.

Sebastian curled his digits inside of her, clamping his fingers down harder over her windpipe at the same time. He moved his fingers slowly in and out of her. He knew she’d be making more than broken moans if his hand wasn't fully cutting off her air supply. He continues letting her get a gasp of breath every once in a while when he can tell she's starting to really need it.

His fingers inside of her speed up as he bends down, lips wrapping around her clit which causes her to push her hips up with need. She looks down and meets his eyes, his fingers curling up again while he presses hard against her throat. A soundless cry leaves her as her eyes roll back and Sebastian coaxes her orgasm closer, fingers moving fast and lips applying perfect suction to her clit.

She’s cumming hard, pushing her hips into his face as stars dance in front of her eyes. His hand leaves her throat and she sucks in a deep breath which causes colors to suddenly return to her vision and the intensity of her orgasm to rush through her. She lets out a breathy laugh between gasping for oxygen and meeting Sebastian’s eyes with hers as he teasingly licks her sensitive clit, retracting his fingers from her soaked heat. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you go through.”

Kinktober Prompt List

[brains5ana]

zombie blog turn around!!

this is my personal blog about my anorex14 and depression this is both my safe space where i can cope with my life right now and my way of documenting this disorder in case i dont survive it so that my loved ones or anyone who wants them might get some answers.

₊˚⊹ 𐂯please dont interact if you are not already disordered or are in recovery. block dont report this is really all i have .₊˚⊹ 𐂯

life rn - mom died in august now im taking care of my 15 yo autistic sibling and household because my dad is abusive and doesnt really parent. my grandparents help take care of them sometimes but they dont live with us and are televangelists who try to convert us(my sibling is pagan). my sibling is awesome but its a lot to take care of them while grieving so much and i worry about them a ton.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

me ୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅

17 they/them bi and taken veryyy happily dni creeps

bg - grew up in poverty w pretty bad parents (i love my mom a lot but she was young and fucked me up a little bit as a young kid mostly she was good but our relationship was kind of complicated for while). got bullied really bad from elementary school till quarantine when i was in middle school. my dads a redneck and my mom was a hippie now my dads like a frat bro?? and hes insane.

alternative (riot grrl goth punk etc) i like music(esp live punk shows), painting, writing, horror movies, ZOMBIES

political activist mostly w the environment but also general big leftist

white, able bodied (maybe) hindu vaishnavite

im very mentally ill and have had suicidal thoughts and depression my whole life. diagnosed cptsd, ptsd, chronic depression, generalized anxiety disorder, ana suspected adhd

my ed - got bullied for my weight and started trying to lose weight in 5th grade. i went to a nutritionist in 6th grade who told me to count calories so i did and then i went lower and lower and lower seeing how little i could consume in a day(i also started having an exercise addiction then). in 7th grade i started doing intermittent fasting and restricting below what you need to live in retrospect. then quarantine happened and i started looking at ana tips. id sleep all day until 4 pm to avoid food and workout at night. i got to my lw and was plateauing and worrying about dying so i told my very shitty therapist at the time who told me i wasnt low enough to have an ed but still told my mom who got me an appointment w an ed doctor. and there started my forced recovery bc the ed doctor told me i definitely did have ana and wouldnt have survived another month or two. after resisting for a long time and trying to secretly relapse i gave in. and it worked, i fully recovered. i didnt get thoughts i was happy and didnt have to lose weight anymore. and then people started treating me badly and a girl who was in my friend group started making fun of me for being fat and i realized i cant deal with that and everything else. so im 40 lbs down and trying to loose more.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

this blog ୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅

BYF - this is an ed bl0g w triggering content do whats best for you i cant facilitate everyones recovery but it is possible and waiting for everyone

DNI - 14 y/o and younger, those interested in recovery (you can so do it i believe in you), creeps, p3d0s, p0rn accounts, fatphobes (fuck off and die), terfs, transphobes, etc

this is a number free blog for the most part and if not ill tag #tw ed numbers or #tw ana numbers

on here ill post wieiads, b0dy checks, collages, diet plans for myself, themed moodboards, a lot of zombie content.

i use the tag #brains4ana or #brains4ana4vent for vent posts (if im coherent enough to care)

other ongoing tws - meat, cannibalism(all the zombie stuff) alcohol addiction, nicotine addiction, mentions of sh, ed (duh)

[rainre]

about Willy/Findo. . . I simply rewrote what I wrote in Russian to couple of my friends.

DO NOT take it seriously. Please.

why does it exist? because Findo seems like an emotional person, very emotional. most likely, as a Middlewood resident, he is afraid of Willy Mack. terribly afraid. Willy didn’t choose him as a victim on purpose, the guy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. . . But Willy will realize later that in a sense he has found a treasure, an ideal victim for his sadistic nature.

‼️TW? I'm not sure if this is necessary, but mention of suffocation, hint of cannibalism (that was an interesting theory or headcanon that Willy might be a cannibal and it fits this idea).

Kidnapping and maximum abuse. It’s fun with Findo, he’s terrified, almost fainting, cries, shys away, he seems to be trying to break free, but he is so afraid that he simply obeys. And absolutely seriously, he simply understands that anyway his life is in danger. And maybe if he resists, Willy will hurt him faster. Does he want pain? Not a bit, he's afraid of it. And what makes him even more afraid is undisguised sadism: if Willy star to hurt him, he is unlikely to stop.

This is how we begin. Willy regulary brings Findo almost to his limits on purpose, without actually doing anything. Because even a permanent violation of personal space will be enough. The guy is already in tension, he was fucking kidnapped by a serial killer known for his cruelty. An abundance of affectionate, but persistent hugs, touches on the arms, neck (it’ll be enough to strangle Findo a couple of times so that every time Willy’s fingers approach this area he will cause a plaintive, tearful “please. . .") definitely won't be pleasant, only more tension. Everything will result not in murder, but in torture and incomplete restriction of life.

And in the end, Findo will get used to it. Gradually he will completely stop twitching while being touched in any way. The brain is an interesting thing, amazing, and one of its wonderful properties is getting used to any conditions. It can really get used to anything (there was a terrible example of this in one film: Jews in a concentration camp had the opportunity to escape. Someone shout to them “run, you can escape!” and some of them really ran... But a considerable part of people were just standing. They're used to bullets, they're used to seeing death, they're used to it. They're so broken that they can't see the point in trying to save their life). Findo will sit humbly, he will already accept the hands on his neck, it doesn’t matter whether they gently stroke or strangle him until his mind becomes clouded, he will accept it without frightened pleading mumbling, as a matter of course, because this will become a must, it will be ordinary life.

And maybe someone will someday find out where all of Findo’s haters disappeared one after another, if anyone even finds such a connection (it’s unlikely, no one will know that on the day of their disappearance two will eat strange-tasting meat, and this, perhaps an important part of such a story).

[steviestits]

Siren's Call, Sailor's Fall - Part 1.3

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (Later parts will be E) Summary: When Steve is dragged onto a business trip with his parents, he thinks that it's going to be a lonely couple of days under the California sun, until he meets Eddie and the other members of Corroded Coffin. Eddie takes a liking to Steve and initiates him into their little group. However, Eddie's group hides a terrible secret, one that is connected to the dead bodies that kept being found along the shore and the strange transformation that Steve is undergoing. (Lost Boys Au but with mermaids instead of vampires) Eventual TW: Hypnosis, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feminization in the Clownfish type of way, Mermaid Transformation, Bad Guys Win

(Link to previous part)

The drive to the boardwalk took longer than Steve since there was no direct outlet from their private beach house, and the boardwalk was a bit further down the beach than Steve had anticipated. Because of this, it was nightfall when he arrived, but he supposed that didn’t matter as there was no one waiting up for him at home. Night. Also, seemed to be the time when the most people visited, given that the lot was packed with barely any open spaces.

Steve noticed that most of the tourists were heading up the walkway towards the amusement park on the pier, but there were others dressed in heavy chains and black leather were heading towards the beach. He could hear muffled music in the distance, so Steve curiously got out of his car, only to be assaulted with loud screaming accompanied by blaring guitars. Covering his ears, he knew he should walk away from the sounds making his eardrums ache, except his feet began moving in the direction of the beach before he could stop them.

Throngs of people moved their heads, tossing their hair as they danced to the music. Steve made his way through them until he reached the makeshift bandstand at the edge of the water. A group of four men stood atop it while fires blazed on both sides of the stage, giving the venue a devilish atmosphere. They played their instruments with such passion and vigor, that Steve couldn’t stop himself from becoming enthralled, especially the lead singer in the center of it all.

Strumming wildly, the lead singer screamed into the microphone as his long, curly hair spilling down his back in untamed waves. Steve pushed through the crowd to get closer to the man, unable to take his eyes off him. The singer looked so free and unrestrained, and Steve couldn’t help but wonder what that felt like as his parents micromanaged his life, wanting to make certain that he followed their plans for him perfectly.

The singer seemed to sense Steve’s eyes on him as his gaze flickered from the crowd down to Steve. A devilish grin passed over the other man’s face before he winked in a clearly flirtatious way. Heat filled Steve’s cheeks while his stomach flipped. He’d been on the receiving end of such advances previously, but they never made him feel quite as warm or enraptured in the same way as the singer did as he began to play as if directly to Steve, seducing him from afar.

Steve wasn’t certain what would happen if he stayed until the end, though it didn’t seem as if he was going to find out as a meaty hand gripped his shoulder and a thinner man stepped in front of him, blocking Steve’s view of the stage. It was then that he realized that he’d been surrounded by a gang of several men, dressed similarly to the ones on stage except they didn’t look as dashing, especially when compared to the lead singer.

“You lost little tourist?” the thinner man asked. “We don’t accept preps on our beach.”

Glancing down, Steve didn’t think he was dressed particularly preppy. He only had on a loose, blue-and-white-striped polo with the collar open, not wanting to feel too restricted as he drove. His jeans were a light blue acid wash that were a bit old and a little snug, though that made them good for being on the road since he’d broken them in already. Maybe his watch was a little preppy with its brown strap and gold dial, but that was a gift from his grandpa, who given it to him shortly before he passed.

“I didn’t see a sign,” Steve replied, jerking his shoulder out of the goon’s weighty grip.

“There doesn’t need to be a sign. It’s clearly implied that we rule the beach and squares like you stay up on the pier unless you want to pay the toll.”

“Pay the toll? Like you want money or something?”

“Nah, we don’t want your cash. We just want to see you bleed a little bit. That’s all.”

“Oh, that’s all. Why didn’t you say so?” Steve squared up his shoulders. “You first.”

A quick jab from Steve’s fist took the thin man by surprise, allowing Steve to duck under the arm of the gang’s muscle, so he could begin pushing his way through the crowd. However, he was swimming against the current as the concert-goers wanted to be closer to the stage, while Steve wanted to go in the opposite direction, towards the parking lot. He could also see the others in the gang doing the same, only quicker as they were roughly shoving people out of their way in order to continue their pursuit of Steve.

Bodies continued to bump into Steve until he finally reached the back of the crowd, which was a bit looser than in the front. He slipped through them, but it was too late. The others of the gang had caught up with him and shoved him down onto the ground, into the coarse sand. They approached slowly, looming over him with menacing grins.

Grabbing Steve by his hair, the muscle pulled Steve up until he was on his knees. Some sand had gotten into Steve’s mouth, so when the thinner man approached, Steve made certain to spit it out at the other’s face. It was a direct hit, causing the gang leader to sputter and blanch while he wiped the spittle off his face.

The thinner man gripped Steve’s shirt and growled. “You’re going to regret you did.”

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” Steve said. “The spit was an improvement compared to the shitshow that’s typically your face.”

Laughing, the thinner man replied, “What about this, funny guy? Think this is funny?” He then punched Steve hard in the mouth and kept punching Steve, wanting to inflict as possible. More laughter sprung from the thin man, who seemed to be enjoying the way he was making Steve bleed, getting a sick pleasure as Steve’s lip split open and his nose steadily bled.

The thinner man pulled back his arm to hit Steve again, only for his wrist to be caught by a pale, slender hand. Silver rings dug deeply into the other man’s skin as a deep, hoarse voice then said coldly, “I should slit your fucking throat for trying to ruin such a pretty face like his.”

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.1 (Coming Soon-ish)

[aerkame]

I will no longer write for other AUs for Welcome Home (please read in full)

TW: Mentions of NSFW/pedos

I know some people only followed me because of a fic or two I might have started writing on for another Welcome Home AU, but recently I have started to notice the increasing toxicity of the fandom overall. Yeah, I've been other fandoms I know there is toxicity and I know there's a lot of nice people in this fandom, but I have NEVER seen it this bad. Out of all the fandoms/fanbases that I have been in, I have never seen such a huge problem regarding pedos, NSFW art/writing being shared and looked at by minors despite the creator's wishes, general toxic behavior, and a large amount of mentally unwell people working their way into groups of children or safe spaces. I ended up having to delete quite a few NSFW art pieces on twitter because I found minors had seen it and some guy decided to make a comment on my OC Lilith that I was not comfortable with.

I also do not feel alright having to restrict myself on what I write or draw because a single person might be "triggered" or "offended" by it. I know I put warnings when they are needed, I should not have to feel like I'm walking on eggshells in this fandom. I do not need anonymous asks telling me how I should and shouldn't write or what I can and can't say.

Because of how bad it's been and seeing more and more creators leave the fandom, I have decided to no longer engage in other AUs or creators unless it's from a follower (I know you guys are fine), friend, or person I know I've talked with before, OR if it's Clown himself. A lot of people forget that Welcome Home isn't what people keep writing it as. Welcome Home isn't even close to being done, we're just riding off the AUs right now. It really rubs me the wrong way that all I ever see on AO3 now with fanfictions are smut fics mainly and some pretty disturbing stuff.

There is so much, too much, s3xualization in this fandom and the romanticizing of serious and dangerous themes/topics. A lot of times believe or not, when I draw buff characters with no shirts, it really is just anatomy practice. I do not understand some of the comments I get sometimes in my inbox. Yes it's fine to tease a bit, but my goodness some of the comments I have seen before are concerning. I never intend on s3xualizing the characters and yet I always get anon asks going a bit out there with s3xualized comments. It's why I haven't really drawn that stuff in a while. I can't tell if people really do s3xualize that stuff or if they're seeing it as anatomy practice with a bit of tease like I do.

I have been bottling A LOT of things up recently and it's hindered my ability to really write or draw how I want. I'm always scrapping ideas and giving up halfway through.

It's always "Is this something that people are going to s3xualize?" "Is this something that might offend someone in x category?' "Will people like this new character?" "Am I good enough for this topic?". It's not healthy and I know that it affects my creativity and mentality, I won't be restricting myself anymore though. I will write/draw what I want, just please heed my warnings when I put them there and don't ignore my boundaries or the boundaries of others.

Now, regarding my own two AUs (I dropped the Dream one because I have something special planned for TFP), The Finfolk AU and Alive AU. I WILL continue writing/drawing for them. They are my own AUs with my own characters added in them. A lot of people that interact with me are followers and I know you guys would never disrespect my OCs or invade boundaries and I love you so much for that. Of course my rule on requests remain the same. NO NSFW for the normal Welcome Home, but NSFW is allowed for Finfolk AU requests.

Unfortunately, all of this does mean I will not continue the fic I was writing for @clownsuu Mob AU. I'm sorry, I just really do not feel like writing for an AU outside of what I know in terms of the person who makes it. I am not sure how to explain it other than I don't feel alright with it unless it's like an AU from someone I know or at least talked to before? Just at least a person I know on some personal level. I don't want to explore the fandom right now, it is a mess with the people in it...do not take this the wrong way, I DO NOT hate anyone outside of the people I know, I just don't feel comfortable in the fandom at the moment and I will not leave you guys behind either. So in short, I plan to just stay in my own lane so to speak and do what I can for the ones who follow me for what I do.

I will however finish the Villain fanfiction as it's not exactly anyone's AU? Not sure how to explain that, it was a series of asks for it. And obviously I will make a full long fanfictions for the Alive and Finfolk AU.

I know I said I don't want to vent on here, but it's getting hard for me to ignore. Everytime I type or pick up a pencil to make something on here it doesn't feel right.

[withherer]

— 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖

i do not condone racists, homophobes, zionists, transphobes, or purely nasty people access to my blog! this is to be a peaceful space for both i, and everyone who follows. anyone who disrupts said peace will be blocked!!!!

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒, this blog contains nsfw and occasional dark content. i do post sfw content as well, so you may only interact with that. any underage or ageless blogs that interact w my 17+ content will be blocked!! you’ve been warned! though you are restricted, you still have the privilege of requesting (sfw only).

𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐒, on occasion, i will soft-block if i am no longer interested in being your mutual ! i view mutualship (?) as a friendship, where we talk and interact with each other . if interactions feel very one-sided, i will, without forewarning, break the mutual :,) ! please take little offence to this, i’d like to follow people interested in getting to know me, and not having just another follower ! this is for my wellbeing, and so this can consistently be my comfortable space ! i hope you feel you have the liberty of doing the same <3

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, this blog is for the DEBAUCHED ! the weird freaks who also enjoy a rhythmic prose with their smutty morning paper 📰 ! i will not put a tw in my tags, or at least not make it a priority to. i create content w dubious consent, dark themes, hybrids, power plays, bdsm, taboo kinks, etc. if you are sensitive to these topics, do not follow!!

filter topics via my tag guide

— 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

i don’t mind getting sent asks! if anything, i encourage you to. i love talking hehe ^^ ! i’m a little shy at first, but i enjoy interacting with everyone nonetheless. you can send suggestions, thirsts, questions, theories, songs, silly things, anything related to my works. idc!!

criticism, complaints, and trauma dumps (of certain degrees) will be ignored!!

malicious asks or anons will be ignored

i don’t mind reblogs! (luv ‘em, in fact)

i do mind spam liking. >4 and you'll be blocked!!

i don’t mind if you use my work for inspiration, but give credit where it is due! this is not an invitation to replicate my work!!

— 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

i have zero tolerance for entitlement and disrespect. you may make a request, but it is up to me whether i accept it, and when i post it!

writer are people too - which means that we get busy just as you get busy! i will not consider your request if you are:

rude and inconsiderate - if i’m to do something for you, you will not rush me - it’s extremely disrespectful!

spamming my inbox! - often i’m inactive for personal reasons. if i didn’t respond to your first ask, would i respond to your third?

if i agree to fulfill your request:

i do both nsfw/sfw

i enjoy writing fluff, angst (my superpower), smut, enemies to lovers, dark romance, mutual pining, power plays, hybrids, bdsm & kinks

i only write gn/fem readers!! the best i can do is write from a male character’s pov.

i write for aot: levi, jean, eren, reiner, mikasa, and jjk: choso, suguru, sukuna, toji, nanami (if i’m feeling generous), hiromi

i do NOT write: male readers, incest, rape/non-con, assault/abuse, racism, paedophilia/very questionable age-gaps, eds, etc