Yandere SBG Gang Jealousy HC's:

Me writing out the angst for Donatello I’m posting tomorrow ಥ_ಥ

I FEEL SO MEAN (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

-writer Grem

OMG, okay, I would love to make a request. May I please request Cursed Princess Club? Gwen, Renée, and Monika with an s/o who is a chain smoker?

Their s/o smokes a LOT and is struggling to quit. My grandpa used to have a terrible smoking addiction, but he quit when I was born.

Cursed Princess Club and a chain smoker S/o

Gwen, Renée, Monika x GN! Reader, all separate

EEE Okay this was a cute ask<33 I love the CPC and it was a huge comfort for this bc of how many chain smokers I have in my family, the struggles are hard not only for the smoker but the people around them. I hope this is good! Enjoy :D

-Writer Icy<3

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Gwen

Gwen's Concerned Encouragement: Gwen gently suggests alternative activities to distract the reader from smoking, like baking together or trying new hobbies, and shares healthy snacks to help curb the cravings.

Adventure Distractions: Gwen invites the reader on a trip to the cursed princess club spot as a distraction in hopes the others can give you some different ideas.

Accidental Magic Solution: Gwen's friends try to help with an object spell and it accidentally causes the reader's cigarettes to turn into harmless objects, like flowers or bubbles, whenever they try to smoke. They both laugh about it, and Gwen apologizes, offering to help in other ways.

Renée

Health Talk with Renée: Renée, concerned for the reader's health, has a serious but supportive “conversation” through writing about the dangers of smoking and the benefits of quitting.

Nature Therapy: Renée encourages the reader to channel their cravings and anxiety into a nature-based expression, like taking walks and feeding the swans with her, as a way to manage stress without smoking.

Magic Potion Attempt: Renée tries to create a potion to help the reader quit smoking, but it has unpredictable effects, leading to humorous or touching moments as they figure out the right formula. Its enjoyable and appreciated as she tries her hardest to help you.

Monika

Fashion and Distraction: Monika distracts the reader from smoking by engaging them in fashion design projects, making over old clothes, or trying out new looks, emphasizing the fresh start that quitting can symbolize. Lots of accessories she finds she will distract you by telling you about each one.

Stealthy Sabotage: Monika sneakily replaces the reader's cigarettes with herbal alternatives, trying to wean them off nicotine without them noticing, leading to a funny confrontation when the reader finds out. It was like smoking a flower, smelled nice, tasted funny so you knew something was up.

Supportive Sisterhood: Monika organizes a support group with other members of the Cursed Princess Club, where they share their struggles and offer advice and encouragement to the reader in their journey to quit smoking. That part helps the most. Everyone has their own coping methods for their struggles so you take the advice and Monika helps you slowly to pull away from it

I wanna make a request for these characters!

Ashlyn and Taylor (SBG), Monika and Renée (CPC) with an s/o who hunts werewolves for a living? Like, the job isn't easy—their s/o's entire body is covered in scars from previous missions.

Ashlynn, Taylor, Monika and Renée w/ s/o who hunts werewolves

Ashlynn/Taylor (SBG) + Monika/Renée (CPC)

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Ashlynn

Ashlyn would be both awed and terrified by your profession. She'd mask her worry with teasing remarks like, "What, do you just wrestle them for fun, too?" but her concern would be genuine, especially when she sees your scars. She’d often remind you to be careful, though she’d understand and admire your dedication to protecting others.

When you’re injured, she’d stay up all night, patching you up and keeping the mood light with her sarcastic humor. Still, you’d catch her staring at your scars sometimes, her expression softening with a mix of admiration and sorrow.

"Hey, just promise me you won’t get too heroic out there, alright? I like you better alive than legendary."

Taylor

Taylor would be endlessly curious about your work, asking tons of questions about the logistics and dangers of werewolf hunting. Her fascination would come from a place of genuine interest and a desire to understand what drives you.

When she sees your scars, though, her questions would falter. "How do you handle it? The danger, the... aftermath?" She’d listen intently if you chose to share, offering quiet support. Taylor would constantly research ways to make your job safer, even if it means suggesting absurd gadgets or protective gear.

"I don’t know how you do it, but if there’s a way to help you, I’ll find it."

Monika

Monika would be deeply empathetic, understanding the weight of your profession and the toll it takes on you physically and emotionally. She’d be horrified by your scars, not because they repulsed her, but because she’d hate the thought of you suffering.

"I wish I could heal these for you," she’d whisper while tracing a particularly deep scar with her fingertip. Monika would use her creativity to distract you from the heaviness of your work, planning little adventures or quiet evenings to help you decompress.

She’d also have a practical side, making sure you’re fully equipped for your missions. "If you’re going to fight monsters, then you need to come back to me in one piece. No exceptions."

Renée

Renée would be terrified of your job, but she’d never outright discourage you, knowing it’s something you’re passionate about. Still, she’d fret constantly, peppering you with silent questions every time you return from a mission. Shed fret, her hands waving as she checked over all your scars, dragging you to sit so she could patch you up.

Her anxiety would heighten every time she saw your scars, but she’d never push you to stop. Instead, she’d find ways to support you emotionally, offering hugs, warm meals, and sweetly written words.

"I don’t know how you do it... but you’re so brave. I just hope you’ll let me take care of you when you’re not out there being a hero."

Can someone please tell me if they see the masterlist and rules at the top of my page?? ...to me, it looks like it's missing-

I really don't wanna rewrite that whole masterlist again 😭

You poor overworked bean, here, for your troubles 🥺👐🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

Now I really want homemade chocolate chip cookies...

Update: I'm writing now for Sonic, Tails/Nine, Knuckles, Rouge, Silver and Shadow

JUST SAW THE TRAILER FOR SONIC 3 AT 6:00 THIS MORNING-

ScREAMINGCRYINGTHROWINGUP

IM ACTUALLY REALLY EXCITED- Might start writing for the boys...and Rouge- but we'll seeeee♡

G7yg7tf7tft7f7tg7t hiiii! I'm new here and I wanted to ask before I request anything and bare with me as English isn't my first language but what do you write for SBG? Like whats off limits and what's okay?

Honestly I write for alot except extreme, descriptive gore/violence and non-con stuff. Just nothing horrible that crosses my ML things that I wont write for :') other than that, feel free to request anything!

LISTEN-

YOUR THE REASoN i STIM SO mUCH

I BLAME YOU CHAOS-

In the quiet

ROTTMNT Leo

Sleepy! Leo x GN! Reader

Fluff/Character comfort

This takes place after the events of the Kraang invasion. Idk why but TMNT been a recent hype fixation (I blame Chaos), and I've just been wanting to write for it until I start getting requests! Much Love!

-Writer Icy<3

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The sound of distant explosions echoed through Leo's mind as he tossed and turned in his sleep. The Kraang invasion replayed vividly in his nightmare: the city in ruins, his brothers fighting valiantly but being overwhelmed, the despair that had clawed at his heart. Raph being taken and Kraang possessed, Donnie's broken battle shell, Mikey's tears- He jolted awake, gasping for breath, his chest heaving with the remnants of panic. It felt real.

For a moment, Leo lay still, staring at the ceiling of his room, trying to shake off the nightmare. The familiar surroundings did little to comfort him, and the images of the invasion lingered in the corners of his mind. Deciding he needed a distraction, he quietly slipped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.

The apartment was silent, having stayed with his s/o for the night, the only sound being the gentle hum of the refrigerator. Leo flicked on the coffee maker, watching as it gurgled to life, the rich aroma of brewing coffee filling the air. He leaned against the counter, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake off the residual fear.

As he poured himself a cup, he heard soft footsteps approaching. He turned to see his s/o, their hair slightly tousled from sleep, padding out of his room. They gave him a sleepy smile before wrapping their arms around him from behind, resting their head against his shell.

"Leo, what are you doing up?" Y/n murmured, their voice soft and concerned.

He forced a smile, trying to play it off. "Just couldn't sleep. Figured I'd make some coffee."

They didn't buy it. They never did. With a gentle but firm tug, y/n pulled him away from the counter, guiding him back to the living room. They sat down on the couch, patting the spot beside them. "Come on, talk to me."

Reluctantly, Leo sat down, his shoulders slumping. Y/n rubbed his shell comfortingly, their touch soothing the tension that had built up in his muscles. "Was it a nightmare?" they asked, their voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Y/n continued to rub his shell, their touch grounding him, bringing him back to the present. "The Kraang invasion," he finally admitted, his voice hoarse. "I keep seeing it... hearing it."

Y/n pulled him closer, letting him rest his head on their shoulder. "You don't have to go through this alone, Leo. I'm here for you."

He sighed, the weight of the nightmare beginning to lift as he felt their warmth, their steady presence. "It's just... it was so real. I thought we were going to lose everything."

"But you didn't," Y/n reminded him gently. "You and your brothers fought back. You saved the city. You saved each other."

He nodded again, feeling a bit more at ease. "I know. It's just hard to forget."

Y/n held him tighter, their hand still rubbing soothing circles on his shell. "I understand. But you don't have to carry this burden by yourself. We're a team, remember?"

A small smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah, we are."

Y/n kissed the top of his head before leaning back, coaxing him to lie down with them on the couch. "Let's try to get some more sleep, okay? We'll face whatever comes next together."

As he nestled against them, feeling their heartbeat steady and strong beneath his cheek, the remnants of the nightmare finally began to fade. Their presence was a balm to his troubled mind, and he let himself relax, the tension melting away.

With their gentle touch and reassuring words, Leo found himself drifting back to sleep, the nightmare banished by the warmth and love of the one who held him close.

DAMMIT.

Okay so part 4 of Misunderstoof by society disappeared but luckily I saved it in my notes...

Gonna have to delete 5, put 4, then repost 5 again...IM SORY GUYS IM SO SORRY....I'll be updating my ML as well ugh

Thank you to the person who commented on which part it was, I would've never noticed that if it weren't for you😭😭😭😭❤️

Misunderstood By Society (6)

Asylum Patient! Konig x Doctor! GN! Reader

Warnings: Posted here

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The box of activities in my arms wasn’t much. Simple things—some puzzles, a few basic sketch pads, even a stress ball. It wasn’t about the activities themselves. It was about control. König had none in this place. Every decision, every movement, every choice was made for him. I wanted to change that, even in small ways.

But first, I had to get his food.

I made my way to the meal cart, already spotting Jacobs lingering nearby. I should have expected him. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Didn’t take you for a babysitter, doc," he mused, his voice thick with faux charm. "Bringing the big guy toys now?"

I didn’t take the bait, simply setting down the box and reaching for König’s tray. The moment I lifted the lid, my stomach turned.

The food was bland—overcooked, dry, and utterly unappetizing—but that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was the faint, crushed-up remnants of something mixed into the potatoes.

I frowned, glancing at the kitchen staff behind the counter. "What is this?"

One of them hesitated, looking over at Jacobs, who didn’t bother to hide his grin.

"Standard procedure," he said smoothly. "Gotta make sure the big guy gets his meds one way or another."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "And this is the best you could do? Bland, disgusting, and drugged?" I looked back at the tray. "No wonder he doesn’t eat."

Jacobs’ smirk didn’t falter. "You’re new here, doc. You don’t get how things work."

I exhaled through my nose, turning fully to face him. "Oh, I understand just fine. I understand that König reacts to you the way he does because he distrusts you. And do you know why, Jacobs?" I tilted my head slightly, my voice eerily even. "Because you treat him like an animal."

The grin on Jacobs’ face twitched, just slightly, before hardening into something else.

I saw the shift in his posture, the way his muscles tensed, the way his jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to people calling him out.

He took a step forward, lowering his voice. "Careful, doc," he murmured, his tone dripping with warning. "You’re playing a dangerous game. You’re new. They can replace you just as fast as they hired you."

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

Instead, I simply smiled.

Not a kind one.

A cold one.

"Then I guess we’ll see who lasts longer."

Jacobs' eyes flickered with something unreadable, something dark, before he huffed a quiet laugh and backed off. "Suit yourself."

I grabbed König’s tray, picking up my box of activities, and walked away without another word.

When I returned to König’s room, he was where I left him—sitting on the floor, his hood drawn low, his posture stiff but less guarded than before. His eyes flicked to the tray in my hands.

I set it down in front of him before carefully removing the plate and wiping the mashed potatoes clean with a napkin. The faint traces of crushed medication smeared onto the paper, proof of what had been hidden there.

König’s gaze lingered on my movements.

I pushed the plate toward him. "It’s out. You can take the pills when you’re ready."

He didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, his fingers curled around the fork. He picked at the food, shoving the vegetables aside until only the meat remained.

I made another note: He only eats the meat.

The water sat untouched.

I noticed the subtle way his fingers twitched toward it before retracting.

He was hesitant. Suspicious.

I picked up the napkin, holding it up so he could see the powdery remnants. "See?" I said quietly. "It was in the food, not the water."

His fingers flexed again.

A long silence stretched between us before he finally reached for the cup.

He didn’t drink right away.

But he held it.

And for now, that was enough.

The small table between us felt like a fragile boundary, something uncertain but unbroken. I had spread out the activities—simple things, nothing complicated. I wanted to see what he gravitated toward, what caught his interest.

König eyed them warily, his large hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. The pencil I had set near the notepad remained untouched. His fingers twitched toward it but never quite closed around it.

Minutes passed before he finally picked it up.

I didn’t move. Didn’t offer guidance. I just watched.

He held it awkwardly, his grip too tight, his movements stiff. When he tried to press it to the paper, it barely scratched across the surface, the pressure uneven. His breathing changed—shallow, irritated. The tip of the pencil snapped, and he gritted his teeth.

His fingers flexed, and the pencil rolled from his grip onto the floor. He didn’t pick it up.

Instead, he reached for the puzzle.

I wrote in my notes without making a sound. Hesitant with fine motor skills. Difficulty gripping pencil. Signs of memory loss? Discomfort? Frustration.

The puzzle pieces were large, meant for children, but he didn’t seem to care. He worked through them slowly, his massive fingers surprisingly careful as he fit the edges together.

Then, quietly, he mumbled.

The first time, I thought he was speaking to me.

But then I realized—

He was talking to himself.

His voice was low, muttering in German and occasionally switching to English. It wasn’t nonsensical. It was structured, like a conversation.

"Here? No—there. That piece is wrong."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"No, it fits—see?"

A pause.

"It does not. Try again."

He was responding to himself.

Like two halves of his mind were speaking to each other.

I kept writing. Conversational murmuring. Auditory hallucinations? Inner dialogue?

I didn’t react. Didn’t try to stop him.

König’s fingers trembled slightly when he got a piece wrong, his breathing uneven. He paused, his hood dipping forward, hands curling into fists before relaxing again.

Still, I said nothing.

He noticed.

"You are quiet." His voice cut through the room, sharp and suspicious.

I looked up from my notes. "Do you want me to speak?"

He stiffened, clearly not expecting the question. His fingers twitched again. "You are a doctor," he muttered. "You are supposed to… show me how it is done."

I set my pen down. "Do you want help?"

Silence.

His shoulders tensed. His fingers tapped against the table once—twice. His head tilted slightly beneath the hood, something unreadable in his posture.

He didn’t answer.

And I didn’t press.

I leaned back in my chair. "I believe people should ask for help when they need it," I said simply. "After they’ve tried to find a solution first."

König’s breathing was slow, measured. He reached for another piece of the puzzle.

This time, he fit it in correctly.

He exhaled—quiet, barely noticeable. But I noticed.

And I wrote it down.