#and she's already suffered more than most of them could ever imagine

[natequarter]

#I’m never not thinking about just how young she is to have gone through everything she has #she’s either not even or barely 200 when she first regenerates #and she’s probably only around 400 when she becomes president #she’s so so young #and she has to deal with the weight of an entire planet on her shoulders #and everything with etra prime #and I wonder how much of this is public knowledge #do the time lords know their president is that young #when they find out are they just a little bit horrified #especially with the fact that they probably did very little to relook for her after she got captured by the daleks #people were probably like oh well #at least she went somewhere in life and then they learn that she barely lived any of her life to begin with

romana is so young in comparison to most time lords in power and regenerates so quickly. like. imagine their faces when she gives her age (idk, 300 years or something) and they go hah! why should i listen to you? you've never even regenerated! and she's like well actually, and horrifies everyone around her

[dioslesbianwife]

Remember the request for the partner who is like misa misa can I please request it but for the hxh guys.(the adult trio and kurapica)

Like she is a model actress and actor who has somhow got the protection of the god of death and their death note how whoud they react to her having the shinigami eyes.

For how they met I can imagine they hunted the person who took parents life's like the original story of death note whoud they use the death note or not and how would they react to the god of death treating them if they hurt their misa parents they will suffer . 🍎

sure! i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting <33333

HxH men x famous reader that has a Death Note

How You Met:

Your life changed the day your parents were murdered. As a famous actress and model, you had everything- until someone took it away. The police failed you. The law failed you.

But then, you found the Death Note. And with it, a Shinigami who whispered thoughts of vengeance into your ear.

Now, some of the most dangerous people in the world have their eyes on you.

Illumi

When Illumi first sees your Shinigami Eyes in action, he is completely unfazed.

He was already interested in you because of your celebrity status, but once he realized you had actual supernatural power, he decided you were a valuable asset.

He tests you, casually mentioning a target’s name to see if you’ll use the Death Note.

If you hesitate, he’ll tilt his head and say, “You hesitated. Why? Are you weak?”

If you write the name immediately, he’ll nod approvingly. “Good. You understand efficiency.”

Would He Use the Death Note?

Illumi doesn’t need it- he’s a Zoldyck. But he loves control, and what’s better than a partner who can kill without lifting a finger?

He’d never fear the Shinigami, but he’d be cautious about the rules.

He wouldn’t hesitate to suggest targets, even ones you might struggle with morally.

How He Feels About the Shinigami

If your Shinigami ever threatened him, Illumi would stare it down like a blank-faced doll.

“That’s interesting,” he’d say, his monotone voice unreadable. “Can you die?”

If the Shinigami answered “no,” Illumi would drop it. If it answered “yes,” well… expect him to start experimenting.

Chrollo

Oh boy, is he intrigued. The first time he hears about your abilities, he’s convinced it’s a Nen ability.

When he realizes it’s not Nen, but something entirely different, he’s even more obsessed.

“A book that can kill? Fascinating.”

He would study every rule in the Death Note, memorizing it instantly.

He asks deep, unnerving questions about the Shinigami. “Do they have desires? Can they feel greed?”

Would He Use the Death Note?

Absolutely. But not recklessly.

He’d see it as an intellectual challenge, an opportunity to push human limitations.

If you’re hesitant to use it, he’d never force you- but he’d manipulate you into realizing how useful it is.

“You’re loyal to me, are you not? Then why do you hesitate? We could rule together.”

How He Feels About the Shinigami

He wants to steal its power.

If the Shinigami ever threatened him, he’d simply smile and close his eyes.

“You may be a god, but gods have fallen before.”

Hisoka

This is a game for him.

The second he sees your Death Note in action, he’s intrigued and aroused.

“Oooh, how thrilling~! A beauty with a deadly little secret!”

If you hide your Death Note, he’ll play along, enjoying the chase.

But if you flaunt it? He’s going to test your limits, pushing you to kill faster, more creatively.

If you hesitate to kill, he will taunt you mercilessly.

“Oh? Feeling guilty? How cute~ But will your hesitation make you weak? Will you die because of it?”

Would He Use the Death Note?

Not for himself. But he’d love to push you into using it more.

He’d sit beside you while you wrote, pressing his lips to your ear.

“Ahh~ The moment before the kill… that delicious anticipation… how does it feel, my sweet?”

How He Feels About the Shinigami

Not scared at all. He has little interest in entities like that, but will mess with it.

“Mmm, you’re quite the ominous presence~ Do you watch my darling even when I’m having fun with her?”

If the Shinigami threatened him, he’d just laugh.

“If you wanted me dead, you’d have done it already. So, what’s stopping you, hm?”

Kurapika

Horrified. Power with no balance, judgment without trial.

The moment he realizes what it does, he stiffens, his face pale.

“That book… it’s monstrous.”

If you use it to kill criminals, he might begrudgingly accept it, but he still believes it’s too dangerous.

If you use it for revenge, though? Expect a heated argument.

Would He Use the Death Note?

He would never use it himself- but if given the chance to kill the Phantom Troupe with it… he might waver.

“This isn’t justice… but if it’s the only way…”

How He Feels About the Shinigami

The first time he sees it, he grips his chain tightly.

He does not trust it. Not one bit.

If it ever threatened you, he’d step in front of you immediately, no hesitation.

“If you so much as touch her, I will find a way to kill you.”

[hisfavegirl]

HOTD Characters when you posted something that angered them on instagram.

a/n : with their revenge.

Aegon :

Aegon wasn’t just jealous—he was seething.

He hadn’t been paying much attention to his phone, probably nursing a drink or sprawled out on his bed in boredom, when his notifications started going off. Dozens of messages, tags, and mentions, all leading back to one thing.

Your post.

The second he saw it, his entire body tensed. His fingers gripped the phone so tightly he nearly cracked the screen.

You were practically naked. The lighting was teasing, the pose deliberate—bare skin, just barely covered, revealing far too much. His mouth went dry, his jaw locked, and his pulse spiked with something dark and possessive.

And then, the comments.

“I think I just died and went to heaven.”

“No way you’re single posting this.”

“You’re actually cruel for this.”

“Let me take you out, I’ll treat you better than he ever could.”

Aegon snapped.

His tongue pressed hard against his cheek, his breathing slow and measured—forced control. Every part of him burned. The thought of other men looking at you like this, imagining things they had no right to—it made his vision blur with rage.

Did you want this? Were you trying to make him lose it? Because if so, congratulations. It worked.

His hands were shaking as he opened your messages.

Aegon: What the fuck is wrong with you?

Aegon: Take it down. NOW.

Seconds passed. No response.

His jaw ticked, his heart pounding. He could already see you smirking at your phone, enjoying this.

Aegon: Do you think this is funny? You think I’ll just sit back while you let every desperate asshole on the internet drool over you?

Another moment of silence.

And then—

Aegon: Fine. You don’t want to listen? Then I’m coming to you.

He didn’t care where you were, who you were with. This wasn’t going to be solved over text. If you thought you could push him, make him jealous, tease him like this—

You were about to find out exactly what jealous Aegon Targaryen really looked like.

Aegon Revenge :

THE INTERNET WAS NOT READY.

People had barely survived your last stunt.

And then—

He ended them.

A video.

Dim lighting. A massive, ornate mirror reflecting everything.

You—completely bare, wrapped in Aegon’s arms, your back pressed flush against his chest. His grip on your thighs, fingers digging in as he held you up, your body rocking against him.

And then—

Him.

Silver hair messy, sweat dripping down his bare chest. His lips bruised, parted, his eyes half-lidded—but focused. Locked on the mirror. On you. On himself.

He didn’t even turn off the sound.

Your whimpers. His low groans. The sound of skin against skin.

And then—his voice. Rough. Arrogant. Possessive.

“Let them watch. Let them know exactly who you belong to.”

And the caption?

“You’ll never be me. You’ll never have her.”

THE INTERNET? DESTROYED.

The guys:

“What the actual fuck?”

“No way. NO WAY. I refuse.”

“Delete this right now, Aegon, I’m not joking.”

“BLOCKED. REPORTED. SOBBING.”

“She was supposed to be ours. OURS, YOU BASTARD.”

“First, she posts that picture, now THIS? Haven’t we suffered enough?”

“Aegon. BRO. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.”

“This wasn’t just a flex. This was a declaration of war.”

“Bro didn’t even try to be subtle. Just straight-up ruined us.”

“I WAS LIVING A PEACEFUL LIFE, AEGON.”

“I can’t even be mad. He won. He fucking won.”

The Girls:

“This is the most disrespectful thing I have ever seen, and I need more.”

“The mirror. The hand placement. The fucking arrogance. I’m unwell.”

“HOW DO I SIGN UP FOR THIS LIFE.”

“He knows he’s that guy, and he’s making sure we do too.”

“Aegon is actually dangerous because why is this so hot??”

“This should be illegal. In every country. And yet I can’t look away.”

Meanwhile, Aegon?

He was smirking, watching the absolute chaos in the comments, lazily scrolling, completely unbothered.

And just to finish them off, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Cope. She’s screaming my name, not yours.”

With that—

The internet was officially incinerated.

Aemond :

Aemond rarely paid attention to social media. It was a distraction, a meaningless void filled with people desperate for attention. But when his phone buzzed relentlessly—notifications flooding in, people tagging him, sending him something over and over—he knew something was wrong.

Then he saw it.

Your post.

His entire body went rigid. His grip on the phone tightened, fingers twitching against the screen as his eye locked onto the image.

You were practically naked.

The dim lighting barely concealed you, your pose deliberate, teasing, calculated. It left just enough to the imagination while making it painfully obvious what you wanted people to see.

And judging by the comments, it was working.

“You’re actually a goddess.”

“This is illegal. It has to be.”

“I need a minute. Maybe an hour. Maybe my whole life.”

“If he doesn’t wife you after this, I will.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His chest burned with something vicious, a white-hot fury that spread through his veins like wildfire.

Who the fuck did these men think they were? Speaking like this—like they even had the right to look at you, let alone imagine more.

His breathing was slow, controlled, forced—because if he let himself fully feel this, he’d break something.

He opened your messages, his fingers moving before he could even think.

Aemond: Take it down.

No response.

His teeth ground together, his patience already paper-thin. He could feel you smirking at your phone, waiting, pushing him.

Aemond: Now.

Still nothing.

A dangerous heat flickered behind his eye. His grip on the phone was dangerous now, his mind already racing with possibilities.

Aemond: You think this is a game? You think I’ll just sit back while you let every desperate bastard in the world stare at what’s mine?

His lips curled into a sneer as he refreshed your post, seeing the numbers climb—more likes, more comments, more eyes on you.

Fine. If you wanted attention, he was about to give it to you.

Aemond: You’re going to regret this.

And before he even gave you a chance to answer, he sent one last message.

Aemond: I’m coming to you. Right now.

You wanted to test him? To push him to the edge? You were about to see exactly what happened when Aemond Targaryen is jealous.

Aemond revenge :

The Internet Was Not Just Broken—It Was Destroyed.

Aemond had been quiet lately. Too quiet.

People should have known he was plotting.

And then—

He dropped the video.

Dark sheets. Low lighting. Your body sprawled against his bed, wrists tied above your head, satin bindings digging into your skin.

And then—

His hand.

Slow. Intentional. Inside your cunt.

Aemond wasn’t even looking at the camera—his gaze was locked on you. Sharp. Unrelenting. His lips curled into something dangerous as he watched you struggle beneath him.

And then—his voice. Low. Rough. Possessive.

“They can watch. But they’ll never touch.”

And the caption?

“Don’t bother fantasizing. She’s already ruined for anyone else.”

The Internet? Utterly Incinerated.

The Guys:

“I can’t keep doing this, bro.”

“AEMOND. THIS WAS NOT NECESSARY.”

“This wasn’t even a flex. This was pure domination.”

“I was a happy man. Now I’m in hell.”

“He could have just hinted at it. But no. He had to prove it.”

“What the actual fuck is this??”

“I just dropped to my knees in Walmart.”

“I need time to process. Maybe a lifetime.”

“WHO ALLOWED THIS???”

“No way. NO WAY. I refuse to accept this reality.”

“This is actually a hate crime"

The Girls:

“The hand placement. The bindings. I actually feel pain.”

“Aemond Targaryen is actually disrespectful for this.”

“I don’t know whether to cry, scream, or book a one-way flight to his bed.”

“The way he’s just watching her struggle—I am NOT OKAY.”

“WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT??”

“I hate her. I love her. I want to be her.”

“The fact that he tied her up and still made sure to show off?? I need a moment.”

Meanwhile, Aemond?

Unbothered. Probably sipping wine, watching men suffer, knowing no one could ever take you from him.

And just to finish them off, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Cry harder. She’s not leaving my bed.”

With that—

The internet was officially annihilated.

Jace :

Jace wasn’t the type to obsess over social media. He didn’t scroll mindlessly or waste time checking comments. But when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when his notifications were flooded with messages, tags, and people sending him something over and over—he knew something was up.

Then he saw it.

And everything else faded.

You. Practically naked. The lighting was soft, shadows barely concealing you. The way you posed, the way your skin was on full display—every inch of the picture was deliberate.

And the comments?

“Holy fucking shit.”

“No way in hell Jace is letting this slide.”

“You’re actually unreal.”

“If you ever need someone to treat you better… just say the word, baby.”

Jace’s jaw locked. His grip on the phone tightened so hard his knuckles went white.

His chest burned—jealousy, rage, something dark and possessive twisting deep in his gut. Did you want this attention? Were you enjoying the way these men spoke to you, the way they looked at you? Did you forget who you belonged to?

His vision blurred as he opened your messages, his fingers moving before he could think.

Jace: Take it down. Now.

Nothing.

His knee bounced, jaw ticking as he refreshed your page, watching the numbers climb. More likes. More comments. More eyes on you.

Jace: Don’t make me repeat myself.

Still nothing.

His tongue pressed hard against the inside of his cheek, his blood boiling. He knew you were doing this on purpose. Testing him. Pushing him.

Jace: You think this is funny? Letting every desperate asshole in the world think they have a chance?

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair before sending one last message.

Jace: Fine. You don’t want to listen? I’m coming to you.

Because if you thought you could make him jealous, make him furious, and just get away with it?

You were about to learn exactly what happened when Jace Velaryon snapped.

Jace Revenge :

The Internet Was NOT Okay.

People were still recovering from the last time you posted something that had them spiraling—

And then he ruined lives all over again.

A video.

Low, moody lighting. The golden glow of a bedside lamp casting soft shadows over your bare back, your skin flushed, the smooth curve of your spine on full display.

And then—

His hand.

Fingers twisting in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back, exposing the slope of your neck, the sharp inhale that followed.

His other hand—out of frame, but you could feel it.

The video was silent, except for the sound of breathing—his and yours, deep, uneven, filled with undeniable tension.

And the caption?

“Mine.”

The Internet? SHATTERED.

The Guys:

“Jace, bro. What the fuck.”

“This is personal. I feel personally attacked.”

“Nah. This is war.”

"BLOCKED. REPORTED. UNFOLLOWED.”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m logging out forever.”

“This is actually illegal. I’m calling the police.”

“Jace, be honest… was this necessary? Was it??”

“I just threw my phone across the room. I can’t look at this.”

“Bro really said ‘you thought you had a chance?’ and ended us all.”

“At least let me heal from the last post first, damn.”

The Girls:

“That hand placement? That possessiveness? Yeah, I’m in pain.”

“Jace Velaryon is the standard. I’m sorry.”

“The hand in the hair. The bare back. The silence. Yeah, I’m not okay.”

“HOW DO I APPLY TO BE HER?”

“The way he’s handling her like that… this is too much.”

“I will never get over this. Ever.”

“Who gave him the right to post something like this?”

Meanwhile, Jace?

Completely unbothered. Probably smirking, watching the chaos unfold, scrolling through the absolute meltdown happening in his comments.

And just to ruin them further, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Don’t be jealous. She’s right where she belongs.”

With that—

The internet was officially in ruins.

Daemon :

Daemon wasn’t a man who checked social media often. He didn’t care for it. But when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when people kept sending him something, tagging him, warning him—he knew something was wrong.

Then he saw it.

And the world around him went silent.

It was you. Practically naked.

Soft lighting, shadows teasing just enough to make the image dangerous. The way you posed—deliberate, taunting, meant to provoke.

And the comments?

“I need a moment. Or a lifetime.”

“She’s actually unreal.”

“Daemon’s done for. There’s no way he’s letting this slide.”

“If he won’t treat you right, just know my DMs are open, .”

His fingers curled around his phone, grip tightening until the device creaked.

His jaw clenched, his breathing slow and controlled—because if he let himself fully feel this, if he let the jealousy and rage take hold, he would break something.

Or someone.

You were his. And yet, here you were, putting yourself on display for every desperate, pathetic fool to see. Did you enjoy this? The attention? The way they drooled over you?

A muscle in his jaw ticked as he opened your messages.

Daemon: Delete it. Now.

Nothing.

His nostrils flared, his lips pressing into a thin line. He refreshed the page—saw the likes climbing, the comments piling up. More eyes on you. More men thinking they had a chance.

Daemon: I won’t ask again.

Still, no response.

His vision blurred at the edges, his pulse pounding hard in his ears. He didn’t need to guess what you were doing—smirking at your phone, waiting, pushing him.

Fine. You wanted to play this game?

He sent one last message.

Daemon: I hope you had your fun. Because I’m coming to you. And when I get there, you’re going to regret making me jealous.

If you thought you could tease him, taunt him, make him seethe like this and get away with it—

You were about to learn exactly what happened when Daemon Targaryen snapped.

Daemon Revenge :

The Internet Was Not Ready.

People were barely breathing after the last time you pulled a stunt—

And then, he ended them.

A video.

Steam curled in the dimly lit bathroom, water cascading down your bare skin. Your body, glistening under the soft glow, was pressed firmly against the fogged-up glass.

And then—

Daemon.

His hand, wrapped around your wrists, pinning them behind your back. His body, completely covering yours, silver hair damp, clinging to his skin.

He wasn’t looking at the camera—he was looking at you.

His lips ghosted along your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as his voice—low, smug, downright sinful—rumbled against your ear:

“Go on, love. Tell them how badly you want me.”

And the caption?

"Try harder. She’s not going anywhere."

The Internet? Decimated.

The Guys:

“THIS IS A CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY.”

“I am NOT okay. This is NOT okay.”

“You didn’t just flex. You obliterated us.”

“Daemon, bro, was this NECESSARY???”

“The way he claimed her, I—no, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Just say you hate us and go.”

“I actually felt physical pain watching this.”

“Daemon, bro. This was unnecessary.”

“HE’S NOT EVEN FLEXING—HE’S JUST OWNING US.”

“This man has no mercy. ZERO.”

“I would literally sell my soul to trade places with him.”

The Girls:

“I CAN’T DO THIS TODAY.”

“The way he’s just holding her there like that… I need to go outside.”

“Hands behind her back??? IN THE SHOWER??? I am ACTUALLY in pain.”

“That hand placement… I’m unwell.”

“You’re telling me she gets to live this life for FREE?”

“Daemon is disrespectful for this and I love it.”

“The way he’s handling her… yeah, I’m done.”

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and I will never recover.”

Meanwhile, Daemon?

He was grinning, scrolling through the utter destruction he left in his wake, watching the internet collectively lose its mind.

And just to make it worse, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Tell me again how you had a chance?”

With that—

The internet was officially in ruins.

Luke :

Luke was never the jealous type. He was sweet, easygoing—never the one to start fights, never the one to lose his temper.

But when he saw your post?

That soft, kindhearted boy? Gone.

His breath caught in his throat as his grip tightened around his phone, fingers pressing into the edges so hard the plastic nearly cracked. His jaw clenched, his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

You.

Barely covered, skin on full display, your gaze sultry, teasing—like you knew exactly what you were doing.

And the comments.

“This is my Roman Empire.”

“Imagine waking up next to her every morning.”

“Luke is too soft for this, he ain’t doing what needs to be done.”

“If Luke won’t handle her, I will.”

“She doesn’t belong to just one man. She’s for us.”

His vision blurred with rage. Us? The fuck do they mean, us? Did they really think they had a chance? That they could talk about you like this?

He immediately opened your messages, his breathing sharp, his fingers moving fast.

Luke: Take it down. Now.

Nothing.

His nostrils flared. He refreshed the post—saw the likes climbing, the comments piling up.

Luke: I’m serious.

Still nothing.

His patience? Gone. His normally warm, easygoing demeanor? Shattered.

You thought this was funny, didn’t you? You were pushing him, testing him.

Fine.

His next message was short.

Luke: Keep playing, love. But when I see you, don’t bother acting innocent. You wanted my attention? You’ve got it.

And Luke Velaryon?

He never let things slide.

Luke Revenge :

The internet collapsed.

People were barely breathing after your last post, still clawing their way back to sanity—

And then Luke decided to ruin lives.

A video.

Dim lighting, tangled sheets, the heavy sound of breathing filling the air. The camera was shaky, intimate—Luke wasn’t filming for them, he was filming for himself.

And then—

Your voice.

A broken, breathless moan of his name, soft, needy, wrecked.

And in the background?

Luke.

Smirking.

The angle barely caught him—just a glimpse of his sweat-slicked skin, the possessive grip of his hands on your waist. His voice, low, teasing, barely above a whisper:

“Louder, love. Let them know exactly who you belong to.”

And the caption?

"I don’t hear them laughing now."

The Internet Was NOT Okay.

The Guys:

“Nah. This ain’t right.”

“Luke, bro, please, have some mercy.”

“I can’t breathe. I actually can’t breathe.”

“I was having a good day.”

“I need everyone to stop what they’re doing and just process this.”

“He knew what he was doing. And I hate him for it.”

The Girls:

“I am actually going to scream.”

“Luke Velaryon is disrespectful.”

“She is so lucky and I hate it here.”

“I need what she has. IMMEDIATELY.”

“He really had to flex like this? On today of all days?”

Meanwhile, Luke?

He was grinning, scrolling through the absolute carnage in his comments, watching men and women completely unravel.

And just to finish them off, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Jealous? You should be.”

With that—

The internet was officially deceased.

Margor :

Maegor didn’t do social media. He barely tolerated its existence. But when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when people kept sending him something with messages that ranged from “Bro, you need to handle this” to “LMAO, she’s testing you”—he finally checked.

And his blood boiled.

It was you.

Practically naked.

Soft lighting, shadows teasing every dangerous curve, your expression taunting—as if you knew exactly what you were doing. As if you wanted to drive men insane.

And the comments.

“This is a religious experience.”

“If Maegor won’t handle you, I will.”

“She’s too stunning to be owned by just one man.”

“She belongs to the people now.”

“Maegor is somewhere flipping tables right now.”

His grip tightened around his phone, fingers curling so hard the device nearly cracked. His chest heaved as he breathed through his nose, his jaw locked so tight it ached.

You were his. And yet, here you were, putting yourself on display for every desperate, pathetic fool to see. Did you enjoy this? The attention? The way they lusted after you?

He opened your messages, his anger controlled—for now.

Maegor : The fuck you thinking?

Maegor: Delete it. Now.

Nothing.

His nostrils flared, his patience already threadbare. He refreshed the page—saw the likes climbing, the comments piling up. More eyes on you. More men thinking they had a chance.

Maegor: I won’t ask again.

Still, no response.

His vision darkened at the edges, his rage sinking deep into his bones. He could already see you smirking at your phone, waiting, pushing him.

Fine. You wanted to play this game?

His next message was short.

Maegor: I hope you enjoyed your little show. Because when I get to you, you’re going to learn exactly what happens when you make me jealous.

And when Maegor Targaryen snapped—

There was no escaping him.

Maegor Revenge :

The Internet Was Not Just Broken—It Was Obliterated.

No one was prepared. No one even had time to brace themselves.

Because Maegor Targaryen?

He didn’t just post—he declared war.

A video.

Dim lighting. A massive, gilded mirror reflecting the carnage behind it. Your body—wrecked, ruined, utterly claimed—pressed against the cold glass, your bare skin glistening with sweat.

And then—

Him.

Towering over you, still inside you, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly there would be bruises—his bruises.

He didn’t even bother hiding his face.

Silver hair wild, lips parted, gaze locked on the mirror, watching himself own you in every way imaginable.

And then—his voice. Low, dark, dangerous.

“Let them watch.”

And the caption?

"You’ll never be me."

The Internet? Dead on Arrival.

The Guys:

“I have never been more jealous of a man in my entire life.”

“Maegor, please, have some HUMAN DECENCY.”

“This wasn’t a flex. This was a public execution.”

“I was happy. I was living my life. And now? I have to deal with this.”

“He’s not even trying to be humble. He’s just taunting us.”

“You know what? I’m logging off. I can’t do this today.”

The Girls:

“I’m actually feral right now.”

“HOW DO I APPLY TO BE HER.”

“The way he’s just holding her there like she’s nothing—I need a moment.”

“THIS COULD HAVE BEEN AN EMAIL, MAEGOR.”

“I can’t even hate. She’s living my dream.”

“This is the hottest thing I have ever seen. And I hate that I will never recover from it.”

Meanwhile, Maegor?

He wasn’t even looking at his phone. He had better things to do.

But when he finally did check?

He smirked. Slowly. Lazily. Completely unapologetic.

And just to make it worse, he dropped a single comment under his own post:

“Stay jealous. She’s not leaving my bed anytime soon.”

With that—

The internet was officially incinerated.

Aegon I :

Aegon wasn’t the jealous type—at least, that’s what he liked to tell himself. He was easygoing, laid-back, the type to laugh things off.

But then he saw your post.

And something inside him snapped.

His phone nearly slipped from his fingers as he stared at the screen. His chest rose and fell, breathing suddenly too shallow as his jaw tightened—so tight it ached.

You.

Barely covered, skin on full display, lips slightly parted like you knew exactly what you were doing. Like you wanted people to look.

And the comments—

“This is actually life-changing.”

“No way Aegon lets her get away with this LMAO.”

“She’s unreal. Divine. Untouchable.”

“If Aegon won’t claim her, I will.”

“Bro, she’s for the people now.”

His grip on his phone tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. The people? The fucking people? Did they think this was a game? That they could just—talk about you like that?

He opened your messages, fingers moving with an urgency that wasn’t entirely controlled.

Aegon: Take it down.

No response.

His jaw clenched harder. He refreshed the post. More likes. More thirsty comments from pathetic little nobodies who clearly didn’t understand their place.

Aegon: I’m not asking.

Still nothing.

His tongue swiped over his teeth as a low growl built in his throat. Oh, you thought this was funny, didn’t you? You were playing with him. Pushing him.

Fine.

His next message was short.

Aegon: I hope you got all the attention you wanted, baby. Because when I see you, the only thing you’ll be worrying about is how long I plan to keep you in my bed.

And Aegon Targaryen?

He never made empty threats.

Aegon I Revenge :

The Internet Was Not Ready.

People were barely recovering from the last time you decided to ruin their lives—

And then, he destroyed them.

A video.

Low lighting. The soft rustling of silk sheets. Your body glowing, tangled in his bed, looking like sin incarnate—your breath uneven, lips parted, skin flushed.

And then—

His hand.

Large, firm, resting possessively on your breast, fingers slightly digging in, making it painfully clear that you were his.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was him.

Aegon, half-lidded cocky smirk, his other hand holding the camera, his cock still inside you, his grip lazy, casual—like he had all the time in the world.

And then, his voice—low, smug, devastating:

“Yeah… go ahead. Say something now.”

And the caption?

"Don’t act like you wouldn’t trade places."

The Internet? Absolutely Unhinged.

The Guys:

“Aegon, bro. Please. Have some compassion.”

“This is actually cruel.”

“I hate him so much but I respect it.”

“HE’S NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE HUMBLE ABOUT IT.”

“I was having a good day. Now I have to rethink my whole life.”

“This wasn’t necessary. He just wanted to hurt us.”

The Girls:

“She’s so lucky and I hate her.”

"Not even gonna lie, this ruined my entire day.”

“The way he’s just sitting there like a smug little bastard—yeah, I’m sick.”

“Aegon is the biggest menace to ever exist.”

“I have never known true jealousy until this moment.”

“She’s living the dream. I can’t even be mad.”

“HE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HE’S DOING AND IT’S DISRESPECTFUL.”

Meanwhile, Aegon?

He was laughing, scrolling through the absolute devastation in his comments, watching men spiral into despair and women descend into chaos.

And just to finish them off, he dropped a comment under his own post:

“Keep crying. She’s still moaning my name.”

And with that—

The internet was officially in shambles.

Rhaenyra :

Rhaenyra wasn’t one to obsess over social media, but when her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when people kept tagging her, sending her messages, practically warning her—she knew something was up.

And then she saw it.

Her stomach dropped. Her grip on the phone tightened.

It was you.

Draped in soft lighting, skin bare and glowing, your pose deliberate—calculated to tease, to tempt, to drive people insane. It left just enough to the imagination, while making it clear you knew exactly what you were doing.

And the comments?

“I can’t believe we’re witnessing perfection in real time.”

“This is actually dangerous.”

“If Rhaenyra doesn’t kill someone over this, I’ll be shocked.”

“No way she’s letting this slide.”

“If she won’t claim you, I will.”

Rhaenyra’s nails dug into her palm as she gritted her teeth. A sharp flare of jealousy surged through her—hot and possessive, a burning anger she rarely felt this intensely.

Because who were they to talk about you like this? To look at you like you weren’t hers?

Did you want this attention? Did you enjoy knowing people were drooling over you, imagining things they had no right to even think about?

She exhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to breathe before she opened your messages.

Rhaenyra: Take it down. Now.

No response.

Her fingers tightened around her phone as she refreshed your post. More likes. More comments. More pathetic fools thinking they had a chance.

Rhaenyra: I will not ask again.

Still nothing.

She could see you smirking at your phone, relishing in this, testing her.

Fine.

Her next message was short, sharp, final.

Rhaenyra: I’m coming to you.

If you thought she would just sit back, let you taunt her, let you make her jealous like this—

You were gravely mistaken.

Rhaenyra Revenge :

The internet collapsed.

People were barely recovering from your last post—scrolling, coping, trying to move on—when Rhaenyra ended them all with one photo.

A single image that sent the entire world into ruins.

It was you.

In her bed.

Soft lighting, silk sheets tangled around your body. Your head tilted back into the pillow, lips slightly parted, the glow of your skin dangerous in the dim light. And then—her hand. Resting on your thigh, fingers glistening with your release sprawled in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. She wasn’t just touching you. She was claiming you.

And the caption?

“Mine.”

The internet lost its mind.

Guys and girls alike descended into madness:

The Guys:

“I am actually about to throw up.”

“Rhaenyra, PLEASE, LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS.”

“Bro, how am I supposed to recover from this??”

“This isn’t fair. This is violence.”

“We lost. We fucking lost.”

The Girls:

“I’m happy for her but also devastated for me.”

“THIS COULD HAVE BEEN ME IN ANOTHER LIFE.”

“Do I congratulate them or do I cry? Or both?”

“Rhaenyra, what was the reason? WHAT WAS THE REASON??”

“I’m choosing to live in denial.”

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra? She was smirking at her phone, watching the despair unfold. She knew exactly what she was doing—dropping the photo, sitting back, and enjoying the chaos.

And just to truly bury everyone, she left a single comment under her own post:

“You can stop dreaming now.”

And with that—

The internet was officially in shambles.

Alicent :

Alicent never cared much for social media. She found it shallow, a place for desperate attention-seekers, a distraction from real matters. But when her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—when messages kept coming in, some filled with concern, others with amusement—she knew something was wrong.

And then she saw it.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around her phone.

It was you.

Practically naked.

The lighting was soft, intimate—dangerous. The way you posed, the way your bare skin was on display, your confidence radiating off the screen… It was deliberate. It was a taunt.

And the comments—the flood of people thirsting over you, speaking as if they had a right to look at you like this, as if they could ever touch you—

“Mother of the gods, I need a moment.”

“Alicent is somewhere seething right now.”

“You’re actually unreal. Perfection.”

“If she won’t claim you, I will.”

“How does it feel to be the most desired person alive???”

Alicent’s grip on her phone was so tight, her knuckles turned white. A slow, hot wave of jealousy coiled in her chest—sharp, possessive, furious.

Did you enjoy this? The way people devoured you with their eyes? Did you want them to look at you, to desire you?

Her jaw locked as she opened your messages, her fingers moving with icy precision.

Alicent: Take it down. Now.

No response.

She refreshed the page. More likes. More disgusting, pathetic fools thinking they had a chance.

Alicent: I will not repeat myself.

Still nothing.

Her nails dug into her palm, her patience snapping thread by thread. She knew you were doing this on purpose. Testing her. Pushing her.

Fine.

Her next message was short. Final.

Alicent: If you think this little stunt is going to go unpunished, you are gravely mistaken.

If you thought she would sit back and allow you to tease her, to make her jealous, to tempt her patience—

You were about to deeply regret it.

Alicent Revenge :

The internet broke.

People were just recovering from your last post—scrolling, coping, trying to move on—when Alicent ended them all in one swift, merciless stroke.

A single photo.

Dim lighting, silk sheets slightly messy, shadows stretching across warm skin. You—in her bed. Head tilted back, lips slightly parted, hair yanked firmly in Alicent’s grip. The way her fingers curled into your strands—possessive, unrelenting, a silent but undeniable claim.

And the caption?

“Mine. And I don’t share.”

The internet descended into absolute chaos.

The Guys:

“I need a support group. This is actually painful.”

“Bro, I can’t compete with this.”

“Alicent did not have to flex this hard.”

“I swear I was fine five seconds ago.”

“The grip she has—on the hair, on the situation, on my emotions—I can’t take this.”

The Girls:

“Happy for them but also screaming inside.”

“This could have been me in another timeline.”

“Alicent said know your place, and I guess I will.”

“Do I cry? Do I throw my phone? Do I respect it? All of the above?”

“I was coping until she posted this. Now I’m just suffering.”

Meanwhile, Alicent? She was satisfied. Watching the world crumble, notifications exploding with people’s rage, jealousy, and despair.

And to truly finish them off, she left a single comment under her own post:

“Go ahead and cry. It changes nothing.”

And with that—

The internet was officially six feet under.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ashblooddragons

[formerly-windblume]

Obey Me Brothers - The Period Pain Simulator (HCs)

AFAB MC in this story!

TW: Mentions of periods, blood, and period pain.

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

You decided to order a period pain simulator after seeing trends online of men giving them a try and suffering. As being the only AFAB individual in a house full of testosterone it only makes sense to see if it too works on demon men- after all, a man is a man regardless of species, right? Surely seven demons could withstand a mere period pain simulator…. Right….?

Lucifer

He knows about periods, yes, Lilith herself did go through them- however, as far as he was aware, they were not as excruciating. She just was a moody muffin who became overly blunt and would be extremely hungry. Yes, she did want to throw hands at times but he shrugged it off for the most part.

Yes female angels have periods too, he has been witness to some rather brutal ones where the female angels just get insanely emotional or start wanting heads to roll. Demon females too, he’s seen plenty at the local grocery store go bonkers over snacks and the hygiene products.

He had no idea exactly how painful these could get, oh boy would he find out.

Was hesitant at first, after all, you seem to be in agony during your monthly visitor but he decides to give this a go just to see how you truly feel. He’s seen plenty of females, angel, human or demon, go through them and each have their own unique emotional range and pains.

What can possibly go wrong? It’s just a silly human device that is made to simulate period pain. How could this ever hurt the great Lucifer himself?

How bad can it REALLY be? Sir, prepare to feel some agony.

“Is this even on? Hmph, this is easier than I thought.”

Sir, that is because it’s only at setting 1, be ready for worse.

Immediately eats his words the second you crank it up to about three, he refuses to admit it hurts and simply says he’s a demon, this is nothing.

Crank it up to about five and he is already sweating, he still refuses to throw in the towel and admit defeat. He must hold out for as long as possible.

“Y/N… you really feel this?! Every month?!”

“Yes, but imagine more pain and blood gushing out of your southern hemisphere- oh and tender breasts, followed by a fever, bloating, nausea, and insane cravings.”

“Remind me to curse Father out more for this- ahem- design flaw…”

You crank it up to seven and he caves. He is done. He has unshed tears in his eyes and is on the bed writhing in agony.

“Honey, want to try levels nine and ten? That’s how it usually feels for me on the first two days.”

He literally looks you in the eyes and says he will never do that again, however… he just discovered an interesting punishment device in this thing.

I feel bad for the sorry chap who has to suffer the simulator by the hands of Lucifer himself.

After experiencing the period pain simulation he will go even more above and beyond for you during your period.

He runs to the store faster than Mammon when he hears the word “money” to buy you snacks, pads, and anything really.

“You know, level 10 is the equivalent to early labor pains.”

Oh absolutely not, nope, and he thought level 6 was labor pain.

You are hereby exempt from taking classes in-person while on your period. You will become an online student those days and you will be required to relax and take it easy.

If his grudge for his Father wasn’t already big enough that grudge just skyrocketed so high it’s practically a missile to the Celestial Realm.

Mammon

He’s mildly familiar with periods, despite having a little sister he’s still an idiot as to how biology works in that sense.

He has an F (32.60%) in biology currently

He understands the b*tchy attitude and the craving part but the blood part…? Not really. Tell him about bleeding for a week straight and watch this man dial 666 (Devildom’s 911) for immediate assistance in getting his human to the hospital because of Father above you are obviously dy*ng and you need help.

The minute you tell him about this simulator and how it’s supposedly painful and can simulate a period he gets curious and thinks this is a great way to show he’s manly enough for you.

Mammon, you will suffer worse than any of the punishment Lucifer has put you through.

“Can’t hurt worse than any kick to the balls! Ha! This is simple! I’m the GREAT Mammon, I got this!”

Mammon, sweetie, a kick to the balls is nothing to this. It’s scientifically proven that period pains are equally as painful as a heart attack.

He whimpers as the simulator is strapped on

“Y-yo what gives?! It hurts!”

“Mammon, it’s not even on…”

You turn the dial onto the lowest setting, one, so far Mammon is holding strong, nothing too serious.

“Just feels like I gotta fart- like, not a big one but a good sized one.”

Turn it up to about three and he is already clutching his gut and whimpering.

“O-ok! N-now I feel like I gotta sh*t! But there ain’t any sh*t to sh*t! Y/N THE HELL IS THIS?!”

You crank it up to about six and he gives up. He is on the ground crying like a baby.

He swears that Lucifer gives less painful punishments than THIS.

“TURN IT OFF!! YO Y/N TURN IT OFF!! THIS IS WORSE THAN ANYTHIN’!! GETTIN’ KICKED IN THE NUTS IS NOTHIN’ TO THIS!!”

He will also swear that getting “the cut” was less painful than this simulator and will wholeheartedly d*e on that hill.

“This is like… my third lightest day in terms of flow, so yeah- this is painful but just uncomfortable.”

“TF YOU MEAN JUST UNCOMFORTABLE?!”

Man is ready to throw hands with your uterus and demand it stops hurting you.

Mammon feels even worse knowing he picked on his little sister when she was on her period and vows to never anger a lady on her monthly ever again.

“I-is it true ya don’t get this when yer pregnant…? If so, uh….”

Leviathan

He’s heard of periods of course, mainly from anime and manga. He knew of them a bit back when Lilith was around but never really thought much of it.

He is legit scared of them though because Lilith would bite and would get extremely moody on hers and he only ever was aware of the emotional aspect of periods.

Little girl chased him into his room and became very chihuahua like when on her monthly.

He thought the blood part was something only in anime and manga but…. Shh, Y/N, let him figure that out himself.

He’s familiar with the trend, he spends his time scrolling through FabSnap for trends or other things.

“LMAO what normie stuff! Putting themselves through pain from some measly human machine ROTFL!”

“Levi, that measly human machine hurts worse than getting kicked in the balls and is as painful as a literal heart attack.”

“Y/N, PLZ, that’s gotta be some normie rumor and they’re acting in front of the camera- that thing is so small that it totally can’t do something like THAT! LOOOOOOOLLL!! So yeah, my balls are fine, I’m fine, and I’m NOT gonna look like a normie whining on the floor!”

He lifts his shirt and puts the stickers on where they belong he sits in his beanbag chair and waits for whatever you have to throw at him.

How bad can this normie thing be?

He feels a small ounce of discomfort when it’s at one, just brushes it off and is slightly unfazed.

“Just feels like I ate something weird- lmao like that really awful Ruri-Chan collab I went to in-”

To shut him up you crank it to three.

“Ooofff! W-why does it feel like I really gotta sh*t? Is that all a period is? Feeling like you gotta run to the bathroom all the time?!”

Oh Levi, if only you REALLY knew….

You crank the simulator up to six and he screams like a baby, his scream is so high pitched it may have almost broke Henry’s fish tank….

You crank up one more level and oh goodness is he screaming even louder.

“TURN IT OFF!! TURN THE DAMN THING OFF OMG!! THIS HURTS!! OMG THIS HURTS!!!”

“That’s like- my second or third heaviest day, give or take. Sometimes it feels worse. That’s still doable but hurts.”

He will legit look at you with the face of ‘what the absolute f*ck’ while crying.

Like Mammon, will wholeheartedly d*e on the hill of “the cut” hurting less than this simulator- hell, that was wimp level compared to a period pain! Level uno!

Totally the tutorial for the game called pain.

Leviathan will want to throw hands with your uterus and will feel immense guilt realizing how he didn’t do enough for Lilith when she was still around.

“I-if anime has taught me anything t-then I um… t-then I’m gonna treat you m-much better, y/n…! W-wanna watch some anime now…?”

Please give him hugs after that simulator! He needs that desperately!

Satan

Oh he knows, he’s very well aware of how periods are painful, sometimes even more painful depending on the person.

Satan has heard of the simulator and is aware it’s supposed to be excruciating for men, however, that will probably not have any effect on him- he’s a demon. Demon males are stronger than human males-

What? Lucifer was in agony?! Lucifer caved from a mere period pain simulator?! Mammon and Levi too?! Challenge accepted.

You’ve never seen this man rip his shirt off so fast and strap on the simulator in your life. He was eager to prove he is stronger than that stupid Lucifer.

Level one? Really? Is that thing even on? This is NOTHING!

“This is easy, nothing, if this is what a period truly feels like then it’s not too unbearable. Perhaps the books were wrong.”

He eats those words immediately when you crank the simulator up to four.

“O-okay, this is uncomfortable. I feel like I seriously have to run to the men’s room… there’s nothing to release yet it feels like I have food poisoning… hhhnnnggg!!!”

You crank it up to six and he is in tears and gritting his teeth. Agony is setting in and he is digging his nails into his pillow.

“MOTHER F——”

A lot of swearing, not just modern swears, oh no, he will let out swears from the first ever civilizations and ancient peoples. If there was ever a swear word dictionary you best believe this man would have written it.

“SON OF A MOTHER [insert any swears you so wish here]”

Ok, please get one of those TV censored buttons in here. The bleep button will be going nonstop at this point…

“HOW THE [censored] CAN YOU [censored] EVEN [censored] TAKE THIS?!”

If you could tally every swear this man has said you may have filled an entire notepad by now and then some…

Please see your nearest Purgatory Hall for an angel’s blessing to your ears once this has concluded, thank you!

At seven he is still trying his absolute hardest not to break, he absolutely has to beat Lucifer, he needs to be better than him! He refuses to fail!

Please insert any swears from the 14th century here please and thank you! :3

You crank it up to eight and that is it, he is immediately caving, he yells in absolute agony into his pillow. He is sweaty and in tears.

“W-what the absolute f*ck was that?! That… the books never said it would hurt that terribly! How are you even alive, Y/N?! If it’s truly as painful as a heart attack you seriously need to take the week off!”

“Hm? A week off? Well, about that, we usually just suffer silently as we go about our days. Chocolate is a game changer truly.”

His jaw drops, he cannot begin to comprehend how the hell you are even able to walk after going through such a painful experience. Let alone how it even feels to have a full crimson waterfall for 24 hours seven days a week or less depending on the person.

“Oh and I’m also moody, nauseous, bloated, crave weird things and purposely read sad books or watch crime shows. In the mornings for some people it can mimic that of morning sickness and really make it unbearable. Fevers included.”

Watch this man begin to go through all his books to find ways to curse your uterus into never harming you again.

“Y/N…? Did I beat Lucifer? What level did he cave at?!”

You tell him he caved at seven and this man’s ego has skyrocketed. He is the most cocky man in the Devildom.

Congratulations, Y/N, you just literally made this man so full of himself he will probably not go back to normal for at least another 666 years at the least….

Asmodeus

Oh hon, he KNOWS about periods, he knows all the dirty details that come with it and literally everything about them. It’s kinda his thing.

Oh you didn’t know he tracks your cycle too? Oh hon, PLEASE, this man knows what’s up! Did you honestly think he did not know how to track these things? He helped his own little sister track hers and understand how to track them.

He’s heard of this trend going around and he can’t help but feel bad for every AFAB person who suffers period pains for real and without a simulation machine.

“Hon, you want me to try this out? Alright then~ a little pain can be fun you know~” *insert little winks and smirk*

Asmo, no, not THAT kind of pain…. *sigh*

Please don’t bonk him, he will make that hornkee jail worthy too…

He gets into some cute and comfy shorts from Victoria’s Secret and takes off his shirt. He makes sure to get on his bed so he feels at least some comfort.

Asmo is actually legitimately scared, he knows they are painful, he has seen you in agony and understands that there is undoubtedly pain in the package, he just does not know how much pain.

Can it be worse than the pain of getting his jewels busted? Definitely. Is it as painful as a heart attack? Science says yes.

He straps the stickers to his lower abdomen and braces for what happens next, he gets even more prepared by putting a pink fluffy headband on to pull his hair back in case he starts sweating… eew! Hon, no, sweat is totes gross and he cannot sweat and ruin his hair!

You turn it on and he winces, it’s not too painful, just uncomfortable. He understands this will only get worse and oh Diavolo is he bracing for impact.

“Y/N, hon, would you be a dear and hold my hand~?”

You comply hold his hand, he’s already squeezing it a little but not too tightly.

You crank it up to three and he is already wincing more and doing breathing exercises like he is a woman in labor. Admittedly, it is rather entertaining to witness…

“Oh goodness, hon, this… HHHNNNGGGGG…!!!! Oh this is certainly getting uncomfortable…”

You crank the device up to about five and he squeezes your hand tightly and lets out some swears. Sweat drips from his brow and he legit looks like he is a woman giving birth.

“Y/N, OH MY GOSH- OH F—! HHHHNNNGGGGG!!!! IT HURTS SO MUCH AND NOT THE FUN KINDA PAIN!!”

“You can do this, Asmo! You made it to level five and that’s incredible!”

“SHUSH!! OH DIAVOLO IT FEELS LIKE ITS AT TEN! AAAHHHH!!”

However….. RIP your hand and your ears as this man screams. A LOT.

The device goes to seven and he squeezes your hand even harder, honestly, you’re surprised it’s not broken.

“I FEEL LIKE I HAVE TO PUSH!! OH DIAVOLO THIS IS- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!”

Push what? Nothing. Sir, you have nothing to push. You are definitely holding back your laughter as this is almost as good as the top Hollywood acting you see in films. Get this demon an award!

Breathing exercises continue and he continues to unintentionally look like he is having serious contractions and about to pop out a child- he’s not but… the simulator is doing a number on him for sure.

Don’t worry, he won’t spawn a random demon like a certain brother of his. Won’t mention any names… but… Lucifer…

You turn the device to about eight and that is it… he is done for.

His poor face is a mess with tears, some snot, and all red… give him a hug, a blanket, some chocolate, some skincare products, and a ton of kisses!!

“H-hon… how in the realms do you survive that agony?! How does anyone survive that?! Are we sure you didn’t strap a labor simulator on me?! Because if you hurt that much you are staying right here with me and I will make sure you feel incredible during your monthly visitor~”

“I feel all that along with the bloating, crimson waterfall of doom, the bizarre cravings, the mood swings, and the need to- ahem… fill in the blank…”

Say no more. This man is READY to go! Hon, you need only say the word and he is all set and ready to pounce!

“Before we do all that, hon, perhaps we can have a quick cuddle session~? I could use that after what you did to me~ and since you had your turn being in control…. Fufu~ you’ll be on the receiving end when we have our fun, love~”

Hello? 666 (Devildom’s 911)? Yes, I’d like to call an ambulance for Y/N when Asmo has finished his… yeah… Y/N may need a wheelchair…

Beelzebub

Oh? Periods? Like in Writing Class…..? No, Beel, sweetie… like the week of blood and agony.

He knows about them a little bit, he understands that there’s a super painful time for AFAB people but never knew it meant blood.

Beel remembers Lilith being very moody and hungry when she was on hers, he remembered how mad she would get if anyone touched her sweets.

He may have almost suffered a broken nose because she was really upset he ate her chocolate cupcakes and now understands that you need sugar to feel better.

Is it medicine…? Sort of, Beel, sort of like medicine, sweetie.

You have to hold his hand and explain the whole process and why it happens, he does get a bit confused but now understands why you smelled like iron those times- he just thought you are a big juicy steak and got all the juices on you somewhere.

“So you bleed for a week or a few days…? And you don’t… you know…. Go…?”

“Yes, for a a few days to a week, no biggie, it’s all part of the process. See? I’m alive, don’t look so scared, Beeley Bear!”

Give him some head pats and make sure he knows you won’t be d*ing anytime soon because of a period.

After promising to take him to a buffet for lunch he agrees to try the simulator, it truly did not take much convincing as he truly wanted to understand and also…. Food.

Beel will take off his shirt and get comfortable in a pair of workout shorts before putting the pads on his lower abdomen.

He is actually very nervous, while he can take pain and all he does actually get scared.

You switch it on to level one and he is confused, wheres the pain?

“Is this even on, Y/N…? Did I break it…? I’m sorry…”

“No you didn’t break it, Beel, this is just level one of ten.”

You crank it up to three and he is starting to feel something. Not much, but something.

“Feels like… hmm… feels like I may need to run to the little demons’ room but not too bad. Is this normal…?”

You nod and crank it up to about five and he has a hand over his belly wincing a little, he truly feels like he needs to run to he little demons’ room but knows there is nothing there.

“So all this is just the feeling of seriously needing to run to the little demons’ room…? So far so good I guess… just feels very uncomfortable. Like a tummy ache…”

“Yeah, it feels like that at times, I get it, but there is obviously more to it than feeling like you need to make a mad dash to the nearest available ‘little demons’ room’ as you put it.”

Crank it up to eight and he is legit starting to feel the pain.

“Y-Y/N… Y/N this r-really hurts now…. feels like when I ate a can of expired tomatoes from 400AD….”

Y/N, you made Beel start to cry, I truly hope you feel terrible now… he has tears in his eyes and is whimpering like a puppy.

You immediately turn it off because quite frankly seeing Beel upset was what truly did it for you.

“I’m sorry for eating your snacks during that time of the month, Y/N, for now on, you can have my custard and as many of my snacks as you want. Oh, and if you wanna go to a restaurant for lunch or something let me know! You’ll get anything!”

Beel is literally the sweetest guy ever, he will literally make sure that you get everything and more during that time of the month because you deserve it.

Belphegor

He knows a bit, not much but definitely enough, he understands that hormones play a huge part and make you an emotional mess, he also understands that there’s blood involved and that there’s weird cravings but the rest? Fill in the blanks.

He remembers Lilith being extra clingy with him when she was on her period, yes she would threaten to bite if he so much as moved the wrong way when she would hop into his bed at night.

One time Belphie made the stupid mistake of saying Lilith looked like she was ran over by a stampede one morning when she had a rude awakening with the crimson flow of doom and got slapped for it.

Like Lilith, you seem to have inherited the same attitude along with a plethora of others… lovely.

“So that’s why you’re always extra b*tchy- hormones and pain, huh? I get it, I’d be just as b*tchy if I were in your shoes- oh I can be in your shoes…?”

Belphie is a bit confused at first at what you mean, he first thought you meant a trip to Solomon to make a potion that would give him the sensation of a period but apparently not.

Oh thank goodness, gives him an excuse not to get out of bed and to remain in his pyjamas and cuddle you and his favourite pillow.

“So is it supposed to hurt or anything? If so this is weak as f—k.”

“Belphie, it’s not even on.”

“Oh… then turn it on before I consider forfeiting and taking a nap, nap time is about now- O-oh…”

Turning it on shuts him up immediately and he sits there a bit confused.

He looks mildly uncomfortable, still a bit confused as to why it’s not that bad- after all, you make it sound as if your insides are literally becoming outsides.

“That’s it? Y/N, not gonna lie, this is boring. I thought this was supposed to be painful.”

Turn the dial up to about four and he’s wincing a bit.

“O-oh sh*t… Y-Y/N I really feel like I need to run to the little demons’ room…! Hhnngg….!”

“It feels like that, doesn’t it? That feeling lasts about two to three days for me depending on flow and length of period.”

He just glares at you as you turn it up to six, he is clutching his pillow and swears just as much as Satan… he also breaks out the 14th century swears along with the first ever swear words of early civilizations.

“SON OF A [censored]! THIS [censored] [censored] HURTS LIKE A [censored]!!

That’s cute, Y/N, you thought Satan was the swear word machine. No, it’s Belphie. This boy can swear! And this little sh*t can get away with it too because he’s the youngest…

“Want to cave in, sweetie?”

“F—K NO! I WANNA BEAT LUCIFER…!”

Turn the dial up to seven and he’s starts crying loudly, this honestly hurts too much for him and it is not pleasant in the slightest.

“TURN IT OFF DAMNIT!! TURN IT OFF…!!”

He has sweat pouring from his brow and tears streaming down his face and looks like a hot mess, you immediately take the stickers off his belly and give him a huge hug.

“Y-you go through that…? Every month or so…?”

“Yes, but of course there’s blood, mood swings, cravings, waking up nauseous sometimes with a small fever, and even being bloated. Sore breasts too on occasion.”

“How the absolute f—k are you even allowed to leave the house and go about life with all that?! No, you are gonna stay with me and cuddle. No way you should have to go through that.”

Belphie will literally buy you any and all products you need from Akuzon while you cuddle because there is no way you should be made to move- well unless you need a new pad or tampon or something or to go…. But food? He will ask his twin to be the delivery guy with snacks and drinks.

“What the f—k was Father thinking when he made this? I mean- I know why it happens and all but what the f—k was his overall logic?!”

Like Lucifer, has plans of giving Father the what for with this “design flaw”.

“New prank idea- make a potion to use on Lucifer that makes him feel this pain for a week straight!”

Belphie…. No….

Belphie yes 😈

———

- Windblume

[loveandleases]

THAT HOSPITAL ASK GAVE ME A NEW IDEA FOR CHRIS SUFFERING!! Would Chris and Jade have the nerve to visit MC in the hospital? How would they react to MC getting hurt and subsequently if they were thrown out, either by MC or the RO?

I had to think about this for a bit, and I keep coming back to thinking Chris would be more willing to visit than Jade. I spewed out the scenarios, left it vague on the Ro but below the cut ~

💀 Jade - There’s a part of Jade, buried deep, hidden behind her need to be the center of attention, that still cares about her sibling. How much, though, is anyone’s guess. When she hears MC is in the hospital, a wave of discomfort surges in her chest—not out of worry, but because her spotlight has shifted. Her parents' attention is no longer on her. Chris' focus is pulled away. She thinks MC is probably just making a mountain out of a molehill; they're probably not even that hurt. But still, she'd go—not just out of curiosity, but to play the role of the supportive sister, if only for appearances.

She barely steps into the room, but she can't even fully process what MC looks like—just the drip of the IV, the steady beep of the heart monitor. Before she can really take it in, the door is slammed shut in her face. Voices rise, then fall silent, and someone steps into the hallway before her.

"You need to leave before I call security and have your ass hauled out," they say, their tone firm, offering no space for argument.

Jade, however, doesn’t back down that easily. She scoffs and reaches for the door again, but this time, no one’s surprised when security is called. Her face flushes red with rage as she begins to berate them, trying to smack their hands away. Her feet stomp as if the force of it might make them relent. "You have no right to touch me, no right to tell me what I can or can’t do!"

She had suspected her actions would draw attention, but this? This wasn’t the attention she had bargained for.

💩 Chris - Kara's text was short—just four words, but they had Chris brushing off the clients in front of them and throwing on their coat. "MC's in the hospital." That was it. No explanation. No details. Just a curt statement, as if it wasn’t the most critical information Chris could ever receive.

Chris read it again, then again. Each time, their jaw tightened. Their first thought wasn’t concern. It was indignation. Why didn’t MC call me directly? Why didn’t the hospital call? Chris was still listed as their emergency contact, wasn't they?

Chris glanced at themselves in the mirror, ignoring the questions thrown their way as assistants rushed them out of the room. Their reflection showed no cracks, not a single sign of the tension they felt building in their chest. Hair in pristine condition. Shirt collar perfectly set. They needed to look their best when they saw MC… The thought of MC lying in that sterile hospital bed made Chris’ chest tighten—but not for the reason anyone would expect. It wasn’t fear for their well-being. It was the fact that Chris wasn’t there. That someone else was. Someone who didn’t know MC the way Chris did.

Is Kara there? Cam… God, Cam. That parasite would leap at the chance to play the hero. Is someone else pressing soft kisses to MC's forehead, whispering sweet nothings and telling them everything will be alright? Ugh, sickening.

Chris could picture it so clearly: Cam fumbling around, trying and failing to comfort MC with some idiotic joke. As if he had any right to be there. As if he had any right to hover over what was still theirs.

Clicking their tongue, Chris sneered. This was wrong. If MC was hurt, they needed Chris now more than ever. Not Kara. Not Cam. No one else. Chris had been the center of their world once, and deep down, they knew they still were.

MC needed Chris, whether they realized it or not. And so, there was no question. Chris would go.

Settling back in the leather seats of their car, Chris smirked. The driver sped toward the hospital. Already, Chris imagined the scene—MC’s eyes lighting up when they saw their former fiancé, stepping into the room to save the day. They'd remember then, wouldn't they? No one could care for them the way Chris could.

One last glance at their reflection, and Chris stepped into the hospital with a quiet, knowing smile. This wasn’t about helping MC. This was about reminding them—reminding everyone—who Chris was. The only one who truly mattered.

But when they opened the door to MC’s room, that look never came. The sterile smell of antiseptic hit Chris’ nose, sending a twitch of irritation through them. And then, standing in front of them, was someone blocking their way, their expression one of disdain.

"I suggest you move," Chris said, voice surprisingly calm. As if expecting anyone to bend at their will.

But they didn’t.

The person shoved Chris out of the doorway, slamming the door shut behind them. Security was called. They had the audacity to tell Chris to “fuck off.”

"I didn’t come here to see you," Chris snapped, pointing toward the door where MC lay. "I came here to see them."

"The only way you're getting near them is over my dead body," the person said, their tone cool but resolute. "And as you can see, I’m not dead yet."

Chris rolled their crystal blue eyes and brushed a hand through their blonde hair. "That can be arranged."

They seethed, gripping their palm so tight that the skin pulled, tearing slightly. The whispers of people in the hall faded into the background. Chris had a reputation to uphold. But it didn’t stop them from gritting their teeth, didn’t stop them from spewing out words that would only make things worse. They didn’t care. Not now. Not when MC was on the line.

[lexsssu]

Beast (Dion Agriche)

TAGS: Dion/Dragoness!reader, pining, pervy thoughts, breeding, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

This place felt…sad.

The towering manse was objectively magnificent and yet an air of gloom seemed to envelop the very air that passed through the exquisite halls. Though perhaps it could be attributed to the unmistakable metallic scent that hung heavily within almost every corner of the estate. 

Whether it was the main courtyard, the gardens, or from deeper within, the darkness that settled over the entire structure was like a shroud of death that beckoned victims to fall into the sweet embrace of oblivion. It’s only through luck however, that they can either meet a swift end or a drawn out and miserable one. 

Judging from the melancholic or downright pained expressions upon the ghostly specters that roamed the area, it’s safe to say that this was a place of great suffering and tragedy. None of the actual living occupants could see them, most especially that man whose soul harbored an impressive amount of corruption for a human. No matter how many angry spirits clung to him in hopes of dragging his soul straight out of his body in order to enact their just revenge, each death done or ordered by his hand only seemed to further the taint. 

It’s almost as if he drew power from the lives he’d stolen.

He wasn’t the only one who attracted the attention of the restless souls. The man’s children who tried to follow in his footsteps also had a trail of bodies before them even before they could be called adults. Even one of his wives, a seemingly spritely woman with doll-like features, took lives as easily as getting rid of unpleasant pests.

In conclusion, this family is as cursed as the land they had stained with rivers of blood over the years.  

Much to your surprise however, not every Agriche shared a penchant for senseless murder. One of the eldest living daughters (Roxana) only had a single ghost following her and even then, the ghostly image of the teen boy didn’t seem to want to tear her limb from limb like all the others. Rather, he followed after her much like a puppy who only wanted to keep up with her pace. Sadly, the blonde never seemed to take notice of the boy who bore remarkably similar features with her even as he tried to reach his hand out to touch her. 

For she lives within the plane of the living, while he now resided in between life and death, unable to move on due to regrets or some other unfinished business you didn’t know of.  

The question is…are you content with staying as a mere observer?

The blonde youth perks up the moment he realizes you can see him, sheer relief brimming from every pore within his spectral body when you speak your first words to him. He is rich with the secrets Lante Agriche fights tooth and nail to prevent from ever seeing the light of day. 

A lonely boy becomes lonely no more and a displaced dragoness finds that becoming lost wasn’t too bad when you have good company around you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dion doesn’t dream.

Considering the amount of blood that stained his rough hands, it is better that he only descends into nothingness whenever he rests his eyes, for one could only imagine what horrors lay in wait to torment him for all the atrocities he’d committed. He’s not afraid of the ghosts of his victims, but rather finds it useless to think of flames that had already been snuffed out when they could no longer influence the living in any way.

But then something changes.

He feels a soft, warm touch that gently traces the length of his nose, cups the sharp angles of his face, and even delves into his dark locks. Though his eyes remain closed, his own subconscious supplies him with the image of hands much smaller than his own large ones that poked and prodded at him without fear. 

While he would have caught the appendages and mayhaps stuck a knife into anyone who decided to lay their hands upon him, Dion knows that this could only be a dream because who would even dare to caress him so gingerly in the middle of night within the Agriche’s own manor? If anything, he finds his dreamself to commit to memory the feeling of such a gentle touch being bestowed upon him, because rationally he knows that he has no need for softness. In the confines of his own subconscious however, he supposes that he can allow himself this at the very least.

When he wakes up at the crack of dawn, it is to open windows with its blinds fluttering as the morning breeze makes its way to his room, bringing with it not just the familiar scent of iron that seemed to permanently surround the place he’d grown up in. 

Though he cares not for flowers specifically, he does have knowledge on their practical uses such as poisons and the like. He also prefers knowing the native flora and fauna of the hunting grounds he’d be thrown into in order to get a better grasp of the terrain.

Blooming honeysuckles make his brows furrowed in confusion despite his stone-cold exterior, confused as to how and why such a scent overpowered the ever present iron tang in the air. 

Curiouser and curiouser.

Dion remains oblivious to the shared laughter between a woman with ivory in her hair and a boy whose eyes reflected the deep, bright expanse of the open sky as they watched him stick his head out of his windows to locate the origin of the oddity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“YOU...”

“...Me?”

Dion feels his body practically burning from the inside-out, his heart beating several miles per minute as he finally gets a good look of the poltergeist that haunts his nights. He remembers the tender touches you press against his skin, the warm caresses that leave him gasping for breath and his loins aching for sweet release by the time he’s released from your clutches once dawn has broken. 

He does not need your sweetness.

He has no use for your gentleness.

And yet he craves it.

He has never desired anything. 

He has never felt so strongly about anything other than the swish of his blade, the gurgling of his victims, and the blood splattered against the ground as another mark of his martial prowess.

And yet you drove him to become more of a feral beast than he ever was as he now wished for nothing else other than to possess your whole being just as you possessed him without even meaning to.

“...are MINE”

Your surprised squeak is music to his ears, the flush on your cheeks pleasing the beast that sought to have you pressed down on the ground and taken ruthlessly, flooding your fertile womb with his virile seed...

.

.

.

To be continued(?)

[minxmut-cafe]

BEAR WITH ME ??

Pairing : Bear hybrid Namjoon x Ferret hybrid reader

Word count : 10k words.

Authors note : HAHDBDHD HELLO YOU GUYS!! I'm really excited to post this because I had ALOT of fun writing this. I love love LOVED the whole dynamic as well and tbf it's minor self insert because..I too can be a menace. Like I'm not THAT much of a menace but I've had enough complaints to know I am one lololol. I think I'm gonna post more stuff about these two. I've already planned a few more things and some other scenarios and stuff. Like I said I REALLY enjoyed the whole dynamic and i think you guys would as well. ALSO I've had to make 2 parts of this because I keep hitting the word count on the damn post. BE SURE TO LIKE BOTH PARTS And if you have any requests or query my requests and asks are always open. <3

Warning : Smut, Vaginal sex, oral sex (M & F receiving), hybrid sex, mentions of death, mention of heat, feral Namjoon, size kink, spanking, mating press, mentions of various sex positions, reader being a menace, Namjoons a gentle giant, rough sex, cunnilingus, idiots in love, reader is immature, Namjoon is suffering, HUGE size difference (Imagine gyomei and shinobu). Masturbation, Namjoons a boob guy. Titty analysis :)

Synopsis :

"Namjoon spots a Tiny ferret hybrid getting pushed around by a bunch of hyena hybrids and decides to intervene. Little did he know that would lead to a series of interesting, traumatising and hilarious memories, some of which he's convinced were attempted murder attempts."

The quad was bustling. Students milled about, chatting, heading to class, or loitering in the late afternoon sun. It was a typical day—except for the growing commotion near the campus fountain.

A group of hyena hybrids had circled someone.

Laughter, sharp and jeering, cut through the air.

And in the middle of it all stood her—half their size, shoulders squared, and pissed.

“Come on, sweetheart,” one of the hyenas drawled, tail flicking behind him. “We’re just playing.”

Another snickered. “Yeah, don’t be so...uptight.”

She scowled, baring her small, but very sharp teeth. “Say that again.”

“Ooooh.” They mocked her. “She’s got bite.”

A growl rumbled in her throat, but before she could launch herself at them—

A shadow loomed.

Everything stopped.

The hyenas stiffened, their ears flattening as a new presence entered the circle.

He was massive.

Towering over them like a walking monolith, broad shoulders casting a dark silhouette against the sun. His round glasses reflected the light, but his expression was unreadable.

A grizzly bear hybrid.

And not just any bear—one that could easily break them in half if he wanted.

The air shifted.

The hyenas hesitated—then, in a blur of nervous laughter, backed off. “Relax, man. No need to get involved.”

And just like that, they scurried away.

Silence.

Then—

She turned, glaring up at her so-called savior.

“What, you wanna fight too?!”

Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“EH?—NO—WAIT—” He lifted his hands, panicked. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—”

She squinted. Suspicious. “Then what do you want?”

“I just—” He struggled, fumbling for words. “I saw you getting pushed around and thought—”

“I had it handled,” she snapped.

Namjoon blinked.

Then, despite himself, a tiny smile pulled at his lips. “Yeah… I think you did.”

And that was how you met Kim Namjoon.

If anyone on campus had to describe their relationship, they wouldn’t know what to say.

It started with the hyena incident—which, in your opinion, wasn’t even that big of a deal. You had them handled. But then Namjoon had to come in like some big, overgrown hero, and suddenly, y'all were seeing each other everywhere.

Same lecture hall.

Same group projects.

Same spot at the café.

And for some stupid reason, you both always ended up together.

Namjoon, to his credit, was a bean. A giant, shy, soft-spoken bean who somehow made people nervous just by existing. He was taller than most— 7'3 to be exact, broader than all, and had the gentlest voice she’d ever heard. He was polite to everyone, rarely raised his voice, and for some reason, people still thought he was scary.

You , however?

You were half his size, twice the chaos, and nice to exactly one person.

Which meant one thing—

Once you were close enough, you never left him alone.

“Namjoon,” you huffed one afternoon, climbing onto him like a tree.

He blinked, startled, as you hoisted herself onto his back. “Uh—what—?”

“The quad’s packed. Carry me.”

He hesitated. “You have legs?”

“And you have muscles,” you shot back, wrapping her arms around his broad-ass shoulders. “I don’t see the problem.”

Namjoon sighed but adjusted his grip and carried you anyway.

Your classmates barely reacted. At this point, this was normal.

The first time you saw him shirtless, it was completely by accident.

You’d been raiding his fridge, sitting on his counter, happily munching away on his leftover dumplings when he walked in—

Fresh out of the shower.

Shirtless.

With his glasses still on.

Water dripped from his messy curls, his golden skin still damp from the steam. And, most importantly—

His chest.

His pecs.

You froze mid-bite.

Namjoon stopped in his tracks.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh,” you said casually, chewing. “Need help holding those up?”

Namjoon choked.

His entire face turned red. “W-What?!”

You grinned. “Y’know.” you gestured lazily. “Those badonks or if you want the more sophisticated name boobies.”

Namjoon spluttered, immediately grabbing the nearest hoodie and shoving it over his head. “I—THAT’S NOT—”

Too late.

You had already decided.

He was your new favorite toy.

You also had a bad habit of picking arguments you couldn’t win. It was in your nature as a ferret hybrid—small, scrappy, and absolutely lacking in self-preservation.

Namjoon, unfortunately, had a bad habit of ending those arguments in the most unfair way possible.

Lifting you.

It didn’t matter if you were mid-rant, arms flailing dramatically—he’d simply sigh, scoop you up with one arm, and hold you at arm’s length like a misbehaving kitten.

“PUT ME DOWN, YOU TREE!”

“Not until you calm down,” he’d say, voice as gentle as ever.

“I’LL BITE YOU.”

“You always say that, but you never do.”

You bared your teeth. “This time I mean it.”

He just sighed and adjusted his grip, holding you higher like you were some kind of unruly toddler.

It didn’t help that you also had a habit of climbing him in crowded spaces.

“Personal space,” Namjoon warned as you latched onto him like a koala in the cafeteria.

“No.”

“People are staring.”

“Let them. I’m comfy.”

“You’re on my back.”

“Again, comfy.” you huff.

He eventually just gave up and started carrying you without complaint.

Winter was the worst. You hated the cold.

Namjoon, however, was a walking furnace.

You quickly realized that hugging him was like curling up next to a heated blanket, and you took full advantage.

It started subtly—leaning against him during study sessions, pressing up to his side when you were sitting together. Then it escalated to full-on bear hugs at every opportunity.

At first, Namjoon tried to act like he wasn’t affected.

But then came the day you simply plopped onto his lap in the library.

He tensed, ears turning red. “What are you doing?”

“Getting warm,” you said, making yourself comfortable.

“I—you—you can’t just—”

“You’re literally a bear. This is your purpose.”

He spluttered but ultimately let you be. And from that day on, your lap privileges were unofficially granted.

You were a menace. He had accepted that. Truly. But there were moments that made him re-think everything.

Namjoon is trying to have a serious conversation with a professor.

You're behind the professor, making the most outrageous hand gestures.

At first, it’s subtle. A suggestive eyebrow wiggle. A tiny lip bite.

Namjoon notices. Regrets noticing immediately.

Then you gets bolder. You start doing obscene gestures.

Namjoon chokes mid-sentence.

Professor, slightly confused "Are you... alright, Namjoon?"

Namjoon, stiff as a board "Yes. Absolutely. Fine."

He tries to ignore you , but you keep going.

Pretending to sensually lick your fingers. Mimicking very inappropriate things.

Namjoon, mentally thought "Kill me. Just kill me now."

He knows if he calls you out, he will be the one looking guilty.

The second the professor leaves, he just picks you up and carries you away.

Namjoon, exasperated: "What is WRONG with you??"

You on the other hand? wheezing from laughter

"You should’ve seen your face—"

Namjoon, mutters under his breath "I swear I’m gonna kiss you just to shut you up."

And that makes you go quiet. (For once.)

At first, you didn’t notice anything was off.

Study sessions at Namjoon’s place had always been your favorite—his apartment was warm, cozy, and filled with books. He made the best tea, had the fluffiest blankets, and, most importantly, he didn’t mind when you sprawled out on his couch like you owned the place.

But then something changed.

Namjoon got sleepy. Not just normal sleepy—bear hybrid in hibernation mode sleepy.

At first, it was small things. He’d yawn more, stretch like a cat mid-sentence, blink at you drowsily while you ranted about your latest shenanigans. Then it escalated—he’d start dozing off while sitting up, nodding off mid-study session, even mumbling nonsense in his sleep.

And it was driving you insane.

“Namjoon,” you poked his cheek. “Focus.”

He blinked at you slowly. “I am.”

“You’re literally drooling on your book.”

He made a vague grumbling noise and turned his head, pressing his face into the couch cushion.

“Hey!” You shook him. “No sleeping, bear boy.”

“M’not sleeping,” he slurred. “M’listening.”

“You’re hibernating. You cannot just hibernate in the middle of exam season.”

He groaned, dragging a blanket over his head. “Just a little nap.”

You huffed. This wasn’t fair. You were used to a grumpy, flustered Namjoon, a Namjoon who sighed heavily whenever you did something unhinged. But now? Now he was too sleepy to react to your nonsense.

Boring.

So, naturally, you decided to fix it.

You waited until one particularly bad day when Namjoon was practically melting into his couch, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. His glasses were slipping down his nose, his book long forgotten as he blinked sleepily at the wall.

That’s when you struck.

You climbed onto the couch, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him.

“Wake up, you oversized teddy bear!”

Big mistake.

Before you could react, Namjoon made a low, grumbly noise and grabbed you.

“What the—”

You barely had time to squeak before you were yanked into his arms and smushed against his chest.

Panic set in.

“Namjoon.” You wiggled. His grip tightened.

Oh. Oh no.

You were trapped.

The weight of a freaking bear hybrid pressed down on you, limbs wrapped securely around your body. You struggled, but it was like being stuck under a weighted blanket from hell. Warm, cozy, and completely inescapable.

You tried logic. “Namjoon, you can’t just—”

A deep rumble cut you off. Not quite a growl. More like… a purr.

A sleepy, contented bear purr.

Your brain short-circuited. “Did you just purr at me?”

No response. Just another deep, satisfied hum as he nuzzled into your hair.

Oh. You were doomed.

For hours, you were trapped, helpless as Namjoon slept soundly, using you as his personal body pillow. Every attempt to escape was met with an unconscious squeeze, like a giant, affectionate bear reminding you no, you stay here now.

By the time he finally woke up, stretching with a yawn and blinking at you like he was surprised to find you in his arms, you were fuming.

“You absolute menace,” you growled. “I’ve been stuck here for hours.”

Namjoon tilted his head, still half-asleep. Then, with the softest, sleepiest smile, showing off his stupid dimples, he mumbled, “You’re warm.”

Your brain broke.

You didn’t know whether to slap him or melt into a puddle.

So, naturally, you did the only thing that made sense.

You bit him.

He didn’t even react. Too sleepy.

It was official. Namjoon’s hibernation phase was ruining your life.

He had gotten even lazier—falling asleep at random, mumbling nonsense, refusing to wake up no matter how much you poked, prodded, or even bit him. At this point, you were desperate.

So, one fateful morning, you took drastic measures.

You climbed onto his bed, glaring down at the oversized bear hybrid sprawled out like a crime scene. He was dead asleep, mouth slightly open, breathing slow and deep. You poked his cheek. No response.

Fine.

You swung one leg over him and straddled his waist, hands bracing against his broad chest. Then, with all your ferret hybrid determination, you bounced.

“WAKE UP, YOU LAZY—”

You didn’t get to finish.

Because in his drowsy, half-asleep state, Namjoon groaned—deep, low, and utterly sinful.

Then—his hands grabbed your hips.

You froze.

Before you could process it, his fingers tightened, large and warm as he guided you down against him.

Your breath hitched.

Something… hard pressed up between your legs. Not fully hard, but enough.

Then Namjoon—still completely asleep—let out a soft, breathy moan and rolled his hips up into yours.

Your soul left your body.

For a solid three seconds, you sat there, straddling a very large, very strong, very hard bear hybrid who was grinding against you in his sleep.

Then you did the only thing that made sense.

You screamed.

“YOU PERVERTED BEAR!”

With a panicked shriek, you slapped his chest so hard his pec jiggled.

Namjoon’s eyes snapped open.

He blinked at you, still groggy. Then he frowned.

Then he looked down.

The moment realization hit, his entire face exploded into red.

And then—he scrambled.

With an alarmed gasp, Namjoon flung himself back so violently that he nearly fell off the bed. He yanked the blanket up to his chest like a scandalized Victorian lady, clutching it as if it could protect his virtue.

“I—YOU—THIS—” He was stammering, eyes wide, scandalized beyond belief.

You, still red as hell, pointed a shaking finger at him. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” He practically wailed.

“You grabbed me!”

“I WAS ASLEEP!”

“You moaned!”

Namjoon made a horrified noise and buried his face in his hands.

“I’M GOING TO PASS AWAY,” he mumbled, voice muffled with shame. “RIGHT HERE. RIGHT NOW.”

You were still flustered as hell, but seeing this six-foot-plus grizzly bear hybrid cowering behind a blanket like you had violated his innocence was too much.

Slowly, a grin curled onto your lips.

“Ohhh,” you drawled. “I see how it is.”

Namjoon peeked up at you, suspicious. “Don’t.”

“You were enjoying it, huh?”

His ears turned red. “STOP.”

“Does sleepy Namjoon have naughty dreams?”

“PLEASE.”

You smirked, leaning in. “Wanna finish what you started, perverted bear?”

Namjoon squeaked.

A full-grown grizzly bear hybrid. A literal terrifying predator.

And you made him squeak.

You were never letting him live this down.

Namjoon knew he was in for a bad day the moment you sat down across from him at lunch.

You were grinning.

Not just any grin—your shit-eating, up-to-no-good, gremlin grin.

Immediately, he sighed. “No.”

You blinked innocently. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

“I can feel the trouble radiating off of you.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “So, speaking of yesterday—”

Namjoon groaned. “No.”

“But I was just curious—”

“No.”

You leaned in, propping your chin on your hands. “Okay, but seriously. How big is your dick?”

Namjoon choked on his food.

“What the fuck?!” he coughed.

“Pure curiosity.” You smiled sweetly. “Scientific curiosity, if you will.”

He glared at you, ears burning. “I will snap you in half, you lanky menace.”

“Oh?” You cocked your head. “Because from what I felt yesterday—”

Namjoon dropped his head onto the table with a thud.

“I hate you,” he muttered into his arms.

You giggled, delighted, poking his bicep. “C’mon, you must have a guess. Seven? Eight? Should I be worried for my pelvic bone?”

He let out the most miserable sigh, running a hand down his face. “You do realize I’m a bear hybrid, right?”

“Exactly why I’m asking.” You smirked. “I am a scholar, you know.”

Namjoon groaned again, exhausted, leaning back in his chair. “If you mention my dick one more time—”

You blinked expectantly.

He stared at you, looking so done.

Then, in a moment of pure exasperation, he sighed and muttered, “I’ll bend you over and show you exactly how big it is.”

Silence.

Namjoon froze.

You froze.

He blinked. Then groaned. Loudly.

“I cannot believe I just said that,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

You were still in shock. Then, slowly, the widest, most devious grin spread across your face.

“Oh?”

“Don’t.”

“Ohhhh?”

Namjoon buried his face in his hands. “I need to leave. I need to walk into the ocean.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted, patting his arm. “Don’t worry, Joon. I promise I won’t tease you anymore.”

Namjoon peeked at you warily. “Do you actually promise?”

You smiled sweetly. “Absolutely not.”

He groaned, glaring at his food like it had personally betrayed him.

You had never had this much fun in your life.

Namjoon had accepted his fate.

You were tiny. You were chaotic. You were a menace to society.

And, apparently, you were also his personal weighted blanket.

Because somewhere along the way, you had decided his lap was your permanent seat.

It wasn’t even something you seemed to think about anymore—you’d just waltz over, plop down onto his thighs, and continue on with your life as if you weren’t making his brain short-circuit every damn time.

And the worst part? Namjoon let you.

Like an idiot.

Right now, you were curled up against him, legs folded, tablet in hand as you scribbled notes. Namjoon was trying to focus on his computer, but it was hard when you kept fidgeting—shifting, adjusting, wiggling against him like you were trying to test the limits of his self-control.

You had no idea what you were doing to him.

Absolutely none.

It didn’t help that you looked unfairly adorable—pouting slightly as you concentrated, lips pursed, occasionally kicking your feet.

Fuck.

His bear instincts were so confused. Because on one hand, he knew you were just being your usual ferret-self, but on the other, something in him kept whispering, Mate?

It didn’t help that sometimes—like right now—you’d look up at him suddenly, big eyes blinking, only to reach up and poke his cheek.

“Joonbug.”

Namjoon swallowed thickly. “Yeah?”

You grinned, leaning in slightly. “Your face is funny when you concentrate.”

He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to focus on his screen. “Thanks, I guess.”

But when he turned back, he realized—your face was so close. If he just—if he leaned in—

Namjoon immediately tensed and looked away.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

And the worst part?

You fell asleep there.

Like a goddamn purring cat.

One second you were awake, the next you were snuggled into his chest, soft little breaths tickling his pecs. Namjoon froze, entire body stiff.

He could feel your warmth.

The soft rise and fall of your chest.

The way your body just—just fit against his.

And then—the final straw.

You shifted slightly, and his gaze accidentally dropped to your shirt.

Or, more specifically, down your ridiculous little Henley.

Namjoon stared.

Not on purpose. Not really. It was just—he was a man. A man with eyes. And you were—

Oh.

He hadn’t really… evaluated before.

Nice.

Good shape.

One slightly bigger. Completely normal

And… a bit bigger than he anticipated.

Hm.

Namjoon blinked, mind blank for a moment. Then—

Wait.

WAIT.

His face exploded into red, eyes snapping forward like he had just witnessed a war crime.

What the fuck was wrong with him?!

He threw himself back into his work, typing aggressively, but it was too late.

Because now, against his will, his brain had a new intrusive thought:

I wonder how they’d feel in my hands?

Namjoon malfunctioned.

He needed to leave. He needed to die.

But mostly?

He needed to get you off his lap.

Before he lost his goddamn mind.

Namjoon refused to acknowledge what had just happened.

Refused.

You were asleep on his lap, blissfully unaware of his horrible, terrible, no-good intrusive thoughts. And yet, despite his best efforts to suppress the chaos in his brain, his traitorous bear instincts decided to betray him.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His tail, the absolute bastard, started tapping against the floor.

It wasn’t his fault! His tail did that when he was content, or comfortable, or—fuck—when he was embarrassed.

Which meant that right now?

It was practically broadcasting to the entire world that Namjoon was a mess.

And, of course, because the universe hated him, you began to stir.

He immediately froze.

No.

No, no, no—

You let out a sleepy little hum, eyes barely cracking open as you blinked up at him, dazed and soft.

Then, in a tiny, adorable voice—

“You good, Joonie?”

Namjoon short-circuited.

Every cell in his body screamed NO, I AM NOT GOOD, I AM HAVING A CRISIS OVER YOUR TITS.

But externally?

He just choked out, “Yeah.”

You blinked again, staring at him for a moment. Then, much to his horror, your gaze drifted past his shoulder

To his still-thumping tail.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across your face.

“Oh?”

Namjoon’s soul left his body.

“N-no,” he stammered, ears burning.

But you—being the absolute menace that you were—tilted your head.

“Ohhh?”

He panicked. “I—shut up.”

You giggled, snuggling back into his chest. “Your tail’s cute, y’know.”

Namjoon let out the longest sigh of his life.

This was actual suffering.

And you?

You were enjoying every second of it.

And Namjoon?

Namjoon was suffering.

He was suffering, and it was your fault.

Ever since the tail betrayal, he had been on edge, constantly catching himself thinking things he absolutely should not be thinking.

And it only got worse.

Because you kept sitting on his lap.

You kept looking up at him with those wide eyes.

You kept giggling, doing your little gremlin antics, completely oblivious to the war inside his head.

And the worst part?

He liked it.

Namjoon liked having you on his lap.

He liked the way you poked his cheek, teasing him.

He liked when you fidgeted, shifting against his thighs, completely unaware of how much damage you were doing.

So, tonight?

Tonight, as he flopped onto his bed, exhausted, his brain finally snapped.

“Dammit. Fuck.”

But then—

Fuck her.

Fuck… her.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck… how would it feel to fuck… her?

Namjoon froze.

His entire body locked up as his brain betrayed him, conjuring up images—images of you under him, gasping, giggling, teasing him even as he—

NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE.

He let out a strangled groan, flinging an arm over his face in denial.

Then, hesitantly—dread pooling in his stomach—he glanced down.

…Yep.

He was hard.

Namjoon let out the longest, most miserable sigh of his life.

This was actual hell.

And you?

You had no idea.

Namjoon lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling like it personally wronged him.

This was your fault.

Absolutely, entirely your fault.

Because if you weren’t such a tiny, chaotic, adorable menace, then maybe—maybe—he wouldn’t be in this situation.

But, no.

No, you had to go and sit in his lap all the time.

You had to poke his cheeks, tease him, giggle like a damn gremlin.

You had to look at him with those big, innocent eyes, completely unaware of the monster you were creating.

And now?

Now, here he was—rock hard, frustrated, and miserable.

Namjoon sighed deeply.

Then, resigned, he reached for the tissues and lotion.

It wasn’t like this was new.

He was a man. He had needs. And if he was going to be suffering anyway, he might as well… deal with it.

So, with a groan, he stripped, settled in, and started his very familiar routine.

…He was not thinking about you.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

But when his eyes fluttered shut, when his hand started moving—

A vision of you flashed through his mind.

Your lips, parted slightly.

Your thighs, spread beneath him.

Your voice, giggling—What’s wrong, Joonie? Cat got your tongue?

Namjoon whined.

This was a problem.

A very big problem.

This was supposed to be quick.

A means to an end.

Just get it over with, clear his head, move on.

But the second his hand wrapped around his cock—his traitorous brain ran wild.

At first, it was just flashes.

Your tits.

Your ass.

The memory of you sitting in his lap, shifting just right–

But then, his mind dove deeper.

The "perverted bear" incident surfaced.

The weight of your body bouncing on top of him, your tiny hands pressing against his chest, your soft little gasp when you felt him—

Namjoon bit his lip, groaning softly.

He should stop.

He should not be thinking about this.

But he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Because then he imagined more.

You, beneath him.

Your legs spread wide.

Your body so tiny compared to his—so soft, so helpless against his weight.

Namjoon’s breath hitched.

Fuck.

Fuck.

A mating press.

The size difference.

The way you’d squirm, overwhelmed, panting, looking up at him with those big, adorable eyes—

"Fuck," he gasped, hips jerking into his hand.

This was so bad.

So, so bad.

But it felt so fucking good.

And the worst part?

He didn’t want to stop.

Not when his mind was already drowning in the thought of you, spread out, filled to the brim—

His.

Completely his.

CONTINUATION OF CHAPTER

[imaginetheonewith]

The one where Y/N gets jealous

Pairing: Joey Tribbiani x f!reader

Warnings: none (I think)

Author's note: It was not easy to imagine reader in the "Friends" universe, but .. hey! I tried my best and I do hope you all enjoy it. The lack of fanfiction about this tv show is criminal x

Red.

That is all could see in front of you at this moment. But it was not the type of red that you see when you are in love and the world seems to suddenly become a better place.

Oh no, it was way worse than that. It was the bright crinkly red, which was currently barely covering the tall blonde’s chest from lustful eyes. Or more specifically Joey’s.

“You know”, Chandler’s voice sounded next to you, “If you keep staring at her for 30 more seconds her head may catch fire. Or preferably that tight, low-cut…”

Your head whipped towards him and he quickly raised his hands in defence.

“… shoes!”, he cleared his voice, while pointing aggressively towards the girl’s feet, “These tight, low-cut shoes! Burn them! Burn them!”

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention back to the bar, where Joey was shamelessly flirting with his ex, Angela. She was a beautiful and lean part-time actress, with an amazing fashion style, and wild blond locks. She was also the only girl who managed to keep Joey in a relationship for more than a few weeks. 3 years, to be exact.

It was not a secret that you did not harbor any warm feelings toward her. Not only did she break your best friend’s heart, but she was also the only one of his girlfriends that managed to catch on to your feelings towards him and use any chance she got to remind you that you will always remain stuck in the friend zone. It was almost as if she enjoyed inflicting pain on people around her and seeing them suffer.

“I can’t believe he is still talking with her”, you groaned, clapping your hands on your tights, “Look at him laughing! What could she say that is so funny?”

You didn’t wait for a response, before turning towards Chandler and pulling the newspaper away from his hands.

“Sure, I was totally done reading that”, he fake-smiled at you while grabbing his cup of coffee. His sarcastic remark went right above your head, as you grabbed his hands and squeezed them in yours.

“Chandler, you are one of the most, most special and valuable people in my life!”

“Well, I do have this effect on people”, he winked at you, while getting himself in a more comfortable position. You smiled with tightly pressed lips, doing your stop any smart remark that was sitting at the end of your tongue.

“And I would do anything… well, almost anything for you. Because I believe that when I need your help, you will do the same for me and-“

“Is it by any chance my birthday today?”, he interrupted you with a suspicious glare and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “Because the Y/N I know is never, ever so nice, unless he wants something and-“

He paused for a second, his face falling with realization. He quickly pulled his hands away from you and pointed an accusing finger at your face.

“NO! Whatever is going in that pretty head of yours, I am not going to do it.”

Chandler tried to get from his seat, but you were quick to lay down and throw your legs over his, trapping him in his place.

“You didn’t even listen to me!”

“I don’t have to”, his words were mumbled through a fake smile and squinted eyes, “I already know what you are thinking. And I am not going to do it.”

You raised your eyebrow, challenging him:

“What I am thinking? Maybe I just want to show you how much I love you as a friend…”

“And also send me to the bar, so I can eavesdrop on Joey and Angela.”

“Damn, you’re good”, you mumbled under your breath, finally releasing your friend from your leg trap. Your head fell in your hands and you closed your eyes in a weak attempt to stop yourself from thinking about the couple just a few feet away from you.

There was no reason to feel like this. You knew Joey for over 6 years now and you’ve been best friends for just as long. You two became close almost immediately after Chandler introduced you to each other and much to everyone’s surprise, including yours, the actor never showed even a slight romantic interest towards you. On the other hand, you fell head over heels for him from the moment you met him. His charming smile, flirty jokes, and kind soul made you overlook all his bad qualities, and “red flags” Monica and Rachel warned you about. Sure, he did have a bit of a reputation with the ladies, but seeing how loyal was he toward his friends, you knew that he was capable of commitment.

He just needed to find his woman. His one true soulmate, who would love him and cherish him the way he deserves.

What wouldn’t you give to be this one woman?

“Hey”, Chandler tried to catch your attention, while his hands started rubbing small circles on your back, “It’s going to be okay.”

Besides Joey, Chandler was your second closest friend. Before he moved to his current apartment, he was briefly your roommate and with both of you being new to the city, it didn’t take long for you to form a strong bond. From being children of divorced couples to having a career in statistical analysis and not-so-lucky love life, you two lived almost identical lives. It was not a surprise you often found comfort in each other, knowing that there is no other person who can understand you better than him.

Just as you were leaning back towards Chandler’s shoulder, Joey jumped on the sofa next to you with a wide smile on his face.

“You won’t believe who I am having dinner with tonight!”

“Winona Ryder?”, Chandler tried to guess and you bit a smile. Joey on the other hand did not find the remark funny, rolling his eyes instead.

“Remember Angela? My ex-girlfriend? The one that I thought I am going to marry because we were dating for so long?”

“How could we forget her?”, you mumbled under your nose, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “She is very…. memorable.”

Joey eyed you with furrowed brows, his eyes stopping at your shoulder, where Chandler’s hand was still gently massaging you. He let out a scoff, before moving to his favorite chair next to the bar. He knew that you and Angela had a bit of a strained relationship in the past, but he was hoping that you would at least try to act excited for him, instead of being all cozy with his roommate.

“Wow”, he breathed out, “Still jealous, I see.”

His words made you freeze in place, your cup of coffee just millimeters from your lips. Chandler tensed next to you and while you could not see, you were sure he was mouthing something to Joey. You slammed your cup on the table and turned towards the actor, only to find him glaring at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, Y/N, I know you girls love to be competitive and compare to each other all the time…”, he stayed silenced for a second, his hands moving in slow circles in front of him as if it was helping him gather his thoughts quicker, “But there is no reason to feel that way towards Angela. You know you will always be my best friend. Nobody will change that.”

You let out a dry laugh, turning towards Chandler, who was watching the happening with wide eyes. He shook his head as a warning for you to not continue this conversation, but he quickly realized your mind was already set when you shook his arms away from you and stood from your place.

“Is this what you think? You think I feel threatened by Angela?”

“Well, I did not use exactly that word…”, Joey mumbled, trying his best to avoid your furious gaze. The regret of saying anything was already clear on his face. If he could turn back time by just a few minutes, he would’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed a nice quiet afternoon with both of his closest friends.

You, on the other hand, were not about to let this go so easily. Jealous? Of Angela? Pffftttt. Pushing your hair behind your ears, you tried your best to keep your voice low and not startle all of Central Perk’s clients.

“Joey, as your best friend, I can assure you that not even a cell in my body feels threatened by that manipulative and sly snake.”

“Okay, you are just being mean now”, the feeling of regret quickly vanished and his eyes hardened in a glare, “What is your problem?”

Before you can even open your mouth to reply, Chandler jumped between both of you and raised his palms towards both yours and Joey’s mouth, preventing you from saying anything further.

“Ah, this is exactly how my parents were acting just before they got divorced”, he made a disgusted face when the memory flashed in front of his eyes. He turned towards Joey, “We are happy about you, Joey. All of us. But… you know… we all remember what Angela did to you.”

“She’s changed”, Joey whined with a high-pitched voice, earning another mocking laugh from you. This gesture immediately resulted in his features becoming serious once again, “You know what… I don’t care if you approve of Angela or not. I love her and I will not give her up. I know she is the one and we will be together… once she breaks up with Bob.”

“Bob?”, Chandler moved his hands away as if burned, “Who is Bob?”

Joey opened his mouth but then closed it again when he didn’t get the courage to say anything. For you, however, it was enough to confirm your suspicion.

“This is ridiculous!”, you groaned, “She has a boyfriend and she is still trying to get in bed with you. She is using you, Joey! I can’t even believe you are agreeing to take her out on dinner!”

“It’s not like I am taking only her. I am taking Bob as well!”

“Oh, that’s great. So all three of you can be one big happy… throuple.”, you grabbed your coffee cup and matched towards the bar, where Gunther was not even trying to hide his interest towards your argument.

“I don’t mean I am going to go out with both of them”, Joey argued, looking at Chandler to check if he agrees, “You don’t think I am trying to get both of them, right?”

Chandler just shrugged his shoulders in response, too scared to get any more involved.

“I am going to ask Monica to come with me, so it’s like a double date. That way I keep Angela for myself and Monica can keep Bob.”

“Monica?”, the name fell as a surprised yell from your lips, “Why not me?”

Joey let out a scoff as if you were asking the stupidest question he ever heard, “Well, you and Angela do not get along well… And also I don’t think Bob is going to be your type.”

The last sentence made you raise your eyebrows and you crossed your arms in front of your chest. A tiny voice inside your head was telling you to not dwell on his remark and leave instead before you do something that can ruin your friendship forever. However, your bruised ego could not handle Joey having the last word in this.

“What do you even know about “my type”? For all you know, Bob may be exactly the man of my dreams.”

“Yeah, right”, he laughed under his nose, directing his attention toward the sandwich Gunther just brought, “The guy is a dog food tester. How can that be your soulmate?”

“Well once I thought my soulmate is always an out-of-job actor”, you stomped towards the coat hanger, grabbing your coat and purse, “So how much worse can a dog tester be?”

Without sparing even a glance towards them, you made your way outside, ignoring Chandler’s calls. You didn’t know where you were going or what were you going to do. All you knew is you just need to be alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days passed since your and Joey’s argument and you have not seen each other since. Despite your friends telling you it is valid to feel the way you feel, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about the way you reacted. It was unreasonable to expect that he would not pursue a woman he clearly had feelings for, just because of your opinion of her. You wanted him to be happy, even if it was with someone who was not you.

Still, it hurt. Not only the idea of him being to another woman but also the fact that you certainly ruined your friendship. You did not realize what slipped past your lips before you left the coffee shop that day till Chandler came to your apartment later and informed you of the talk he and Joey just had.

The actor did hear you and did put two and two together “surprisingly quickly”, as Chandler described it, which lead to a big argument between the two. On one hand, Joey thought it was unacceptable that you kept this secret for so long from him, instead of just talking. On the other hand, Chandler thought he was judging you unfairly and was unhappy with the fact that Joey still went ahead with the date with Angela.

It seemed that everyone heard about what happened the same day, as later that night Rachel, Ross, and Phoebe all showed up with some Chinese takeaway and five boxes of ice cream. You appreciate that they all showed up for you, but you could not shake away the tight feeling of anxiousness in your chest. You needed to know how the date went and if Joey and Angela were back together, and the only way to find out was to speak to Monica.

Now, finally being the weekend, both of you were off work and eager to catch up with each other. Sitting on the floor in her living room, you ate homemade biscuit cake and spilled gossip about the events from the past week.

“I would’ve never agreed to go with him if I knew all the details” Monica exclaimed, “He told me they were siblings. And I did believe him, till I saw her tongue in his ear. It was disgusting!”

You choked a laugh and quickly covered your mouth, trying to keep the food inside. Apparently, Joey told Monica Bob was Angela’s brother in order to convince her to go on a double date with them. And while they did manage to break the “happy” couple and keep the pieces to themselves, Monica was far from impressed by Bob’s performance in bed and has decided to not see him anymore. Listening to her detailed story from that night, you could not judge her at all.

You finally swallowed your bite and were about to respond, when the door opened, and the man you least wanted to see came into the kitchen.

“Hey Monica, I know you said to not bother you tonight, but we have no beers left and… Y/N?!”

Joey froze in his place next to the fridge, his eyes dancing between you and the dark-haired woman. Monica has told them to stay away from her flat earlier, but he has just assumed she was having a date over. He definitely did not expect to see you.

“Y/N, um… What are you… uhm.. doing here?”, he shuttered and you had to bite your lip in order to stop a smile from spreading on your face. Flustered Joey was a rare, but cute sight.

You quickly jumped on your feet and grabbed your bag from the sofa, giving an awkward smile.

“I was just about to go, actually”, you turned towards Monica and pulled her into a hug, “I will catch up with you soon. Bye, Mon! Bye, Joey!”

You hurried towards the door without sparing your friends a second glance and were almost down the stairs when you heard heavy steps behind you and felt a hand pulling you back by your wrist. You stumbled back, almost losing your balance, before another hand wrapped around your shoulder in order to stable you.  

You looked up only to come face-to-face with Joey, who was staring at you with wide eyes. He was so close his breaths were hitting your face like a warm breeze and almost closed your eyes, trying to save the feeling of closeness in your mind.

“Y/N…”, he whispered, “Listen, I…”

“Yes?”, you tried to push him to finish a sentence, eager to hear what he has to say. There were a million and one things you wanted to tell him, but how could you after you threw away years of friendship in just a few seconds of pure rage? You were simply not ready to talk about it yet.

But did not stop you from trying to hear what he has to say.

“I made a mistake. I should have never gone out with Angela.”

There was a skip of your hearbeat. Were you dreaming? You were sure you did get up from your bed morning, but then again the only times Joet was saying the words 'mistake' and a girl's name in one sentence it was in only in your imagination.

You furrowed your eyebrows and were ready to argue that the only person in this hallway who made a mistake was you, but before you can start talking, he pressed his finger to your lips, shushing you.

“No, let me finish”, he moved his hand away, “I have… I have prepared this speech for a while.”

He got silent for a minute, moving his eyes away from you and focusing on the floor instead.

“I have been in love with you pretty much since the day we met. Your smile, your wit, your beauty… I have never seen another woman like you. And I know you think I didn’t like you, because I’ve never made a move, but I was so scared… You know? And I was trying to forget you by seeking someone else, but I could never do it. All I ever wanted was you. Which hurt, because I knew that I will never be good enough for you and-“

His words were interrupted by your lips on his. A wave of electricity passed through your whole body and you could swear your feet became jelly. His arms circled your waist, pressing you against his hard chest.

 It lasted only a few seconds before you both pulled away with wide eyes. With uneven breathing, you pressed your forehead against his, enjoying the warmth of his hands on your lower back. A small smile broke on your lips and Joey mirrored it.

“Wanna do it again?”, he asked, giving you a wink.

“Absolutely”, you whispered before catching his mouth with yours again.

[kanalynn]

Xeno, Stanley x Mikan Tsumiki! reader headcanons

characters: Xeno Houston Wingfield, Stanley Snyder

based on: reader is based on Mikan Tsumiki (danganronpa franchise)

summary: [Name] Tsumiki is a Japanese exchange student who is interested in medicine and is a nurse-in-training. She is quite timid and fragile due to the abuse she suffered in the past.

author's note:

• English is NOT my first language

• May contain OOC

• Do not copy or steal my works!!

• I guess this is the last or one of the last headcanons, I'm already tired of writing them, I've been doing nothing but them all week (although I really like them)

• tw: mentions of abuse

• Mikan's character and past are very complex topics, which makes it very difficult to imagine the reader in her place, so I'll simplify things a bit in these aspects - [Name]'s story will be very vague, the only thing we know for sure is that she was subjected to severe bullying. Her personality will still be similar to Mikan's, but her trauma is not as severe: she is more adequate and does not think that bullying is better than indifference - but she still feels a little uncomfortable when she is not noticed at all.

• Basically, [Name] is like Mikan Lite

Xeno Houston Wingfield

❛❛ I-I... F-forgive me, Xeno... I'm so useless... I- ❞

❛❛ Now, now, please don't cry, [Name]. You're not useless at all. You know, I'd even say you're one of the most elegant people I've ever met. ❞

❛❛ R-really? ❞

❛❛ Of course, would I lie to you? You're the most capable, amazing, incredible- ❞

• [Name]'s first meeting with Xeno was very... unusual. You could even say embarrassing. The thing is, the girl bumped into him in the hallway while she was rushing to her first class at a new school and fell. In a very revealing position. And she screamed so loudly that she attracted the attention of everyone around her.

• Xeno, as a true gentleman, tried his best to avoid the indecent spectacle that was unfolding on the floor, but still helped the stranger up and took her to the nurse office. Probably, at first he considered [Name] extremely inelegant, but as soon as he found out that she was knowledgeable in science, was interested in medicine and was a nurse-in-training, his interest was awakened.

• All the following lessons he sits next to [Name], tries to talk to her and learn more about her. She is very nervous and timid, and this makes Xeno a little wary - for some reason he himself begins to worry about her, but, of course, does not show it. In any case, soon he still managed to find topics for conversation with her and, it seems, even become her friend.

• At first, all their communication was reduced mainly to scientific and medical topics, however, slowly and not soon, they began to get to know each other better. Xeno likes [Name], he really appreciates her, her abilities and her desire to help others - but he is still worried about her timidity and lack of self-confidence.

• Xeno is both surprised and not surprised when he realizes his feelings. [Name] is a wonderful person who shares his love for the natural sciences, and if you think about it, it could not be anyone else. He is very careful with the confession, delivering everything as softly and sensually as possible, because he does not know how she might react. Probably, [Name] will assure him that he is imagining things and that he could not love someone like her - but Xeno will persistently assure her otherwise and wait for her consent for as long as it takes.

• Luckily, he does not have to wait too long, and [Name], although with great uncertainty and apprehension, accepts his feelings; they begin a relationship.

• Xeno has always been very careful with [Name], and when he learned about the bullying she had suffered in the past, he seemed to become even more careful. He is trying his best to restore his girlfriend's confidence and ability to defend her boundaries, and it seems he is even succeeding.

• Science is one of the most important, if not the most important, parts of Xeno's life, so the fact that he wants to do some kind of experiment with [Name] to show her the beauty and elegance of science is nothing special. He often even asks the girl to help him - although she constantly tries to refuse, citing her clumsiness and uselessness, he always stands his ground.

• Xeno calls [Name] his best assistant and helper - and he is not being disingenuous when he does this. He truly believes that no one can understand him and help him better than her.

• Xeno probably even hopes that after finishing school, when he will work at NASA, [Name] will really become his full-fledged assistant... He understands that the girl wants to become a doctor, and is going to study to be one after school, but he can’t help his desire not to part with [Name].

• [Name] loves horror movies, in her words, “because of the blood and helpless people.” Xeno doesn’t even find this a little strange: he himself, perhaps, is interested in how, elegantly or not, the next victim will be killed.

• At first, [Name] tends to apologize to Xeno very often for all her actions and behavior. He, of course, doesn’t like it - this is another of her charts appeared because of bullying, and he hates to think that she suffered so much. Xeno tries to show her that he loves and will love her for who she is.

Stanley Snyder

❛❛ What did that jerk wanted from you, [Name]? ❞

❛❛ S-Stan?! I... He... I-I'm not really sure, he just asked to meet him after school... ❞

❛❛ Hmm. I'll go. ❞

❛❛ B-but Stan! If he doesn't want to do anything bad? ❞

❛❛ I'll. Go. ❞

• Stan met [Name] when he got into a fight with some particularly insolent jerks in the school hallways one day: they were quickly separated, but they managed to beat each other up so badly that they were sent to the nurse office. It wasn't the nurse on duty there then, but her assistant - a new student whom Stan barely remembered when he first saw her. She was very clumsy, but she treated his wounds surprisingly skillfully, and when she learned his name, she mentioned that she had heard it from Xeno - and it was at that moment that Stanley really took an interest in her.

• They did not officially meet until the next day: they were introduced to each other by Xeno, and they became something like friends through a friend. Over time, they get to know each other better and eventually become real friends.

• [Name]'s paranoid personality initially irritated Stanley a little, but then, when he realized how kind a person she really is, he noticeably softened towards her.

• Stanley quickly realizes his feelings and, after some thought, wants to immediately confess to [Name], which he basically does. He reacts very negatively to the girl's words about her uselessness and worthlessness, trying to convince her of the sincerity of his feelings and her own value. Eventually, [Name] gives them a chance: they start dating.

• Immediately after the relationship began, Stanley felt a strong need to protect [Name]. This need grew proportionally to the growth of his romantic feelings for her, and has not disappeared after many years.

• Anyone who even thinks something bad about [Name] will meet the invincible Stanley Snyder and his righteous anger - what to say about the fools who want to mock his girlfriend or pester her with various... unpleasant proposals? They leave no trace. Stan is merciless to anyone who shows disrespect to [Name].

• By the way, when Stan finds out what his girlfriend went through in the past, he is furious. There's nothing more to say - he's just furious, and it'll take him a long time to calm down and accept the fact that [Name] is no longer in danger and that all the bullying is in the past...

• [Name] is usually the one who heals all of Stan's wounds - after all, she is a nurse, albeit a student. He himself really likes it. Sometimes it seems that he fights with someone only so that [Name] can heal him later.

• Smoking is a terrible and dangerous habit - Stan is tired of hearing about it from his personal doctors, [Name] and Xeno, but he probably won't quit.

• One day, Stanley witnessed one of [Name's] "unfortunate falls". He is very worried about this trait of hers, and from now on he always tries to stay as close to her as possible so that if something happens, he can catch her before she falls. If it is impossible to prevent the falls, Stanley will block the spectacle unfolding on the floor from those around him with his body.

• It is even surprising how gentle and caring the threatening Stanley Snyder can be towards his timid and nervous girlfriend - everyone around him has always been confused by this, but they will never understand it.

• If Stanley has free time, he immediately rushes to the infirmary to spend at least a little time with [Name]. Usually, she does not have a large number of patients, so his presence does not bother anyone - on the contrary, while Stanley is with her, [Name] behaves more confidently.

[deeplyshalllow]

Do the gale force soldiers witness Fiyero’s transformation? Or do they leave him tied up and come back for Torture part 2: For Bad in the morning/after a coffee break then panic because

a. someone’s obviously used the clothes of their mostly dead ex-captain to make a creepy scarecrow decoy, suggesting the real Fiyero has miraculously escaped in his underwear,

b. they believe they’ve forgotten where they put him, because there are so many other scarecrows (a frankly ridiculous amount!) already in that cornfield, Fiyero’s body blends right in and it takes all day to check them all and come up unnervingly empty. (Oops! All scarecrows!) Prompting the soldiers to check them all again and again “How could you forget?” “Why did you have to tie a sack over his very recognisable face?” “You told me to?!” “Stop gaslighting me!” Etc

c. free space

d. they did see the transformation and it terrified them so much they scarpered to the nearest pub and drank to forget

a.a. they assume Elphaba has taken their dead guy, wholesale, “What do you even do with a dead prince?” “Bury him I guess,” “Use his bones for evil spells,” “I would put the dead prince in an ornately crafted glass coffin in the woods, so that the Winkies and woodland Animals can pay their respects and gaze upon his beautiful face.” … “Except we beat his face up.” “Yeah we beat his face up.”

I’m suffering the thought equivalent of zoomies I’m so so sorry

Loolll Firstly I got a good chuckle out of Torture part 2: For Bad, so thank you for that!

Honestly I've always thought option D - that they did see his transformation for several reasons:

They're supposed to torture Fiyero "until he tells us where the witch went" and (despite the fact that they do know where Elphaba is by March of the Witch Hunters - I think she's beyond being subtle at that point, and she does have good defences) I just can't believe Fiyero would ever tell them, he'd die first. So I do not think they are done with the torturing when he's transformed.

You have to remember that these are Fiyero's men. Guards who have worked under Fiyero, probably considered him a friend, and all along he has been betraying them and working for the Witch. They are probably not the most pleasant people in the first place and they are angry. I don't think any of them are giving up for a coffee break until he's done what they want and is dead

I actually think she casts the spell pretty fast? Like wishing for his flesh not to be torn and to not be feeling pain when he's beaten, is going to be pretty redundant more than 10 minutes after Fiyero has been captured (like it's obviously long enough for there to be some possibility for him to be "already dead or bleeding" but there's also a chance of his survival)? I imagine she got to the nearest safe place and cast. And Elphaba doesn't even cast the spell for that long before giving up and falling into despair so yeah, I imagine the men see it

They would want the body. There's a lot of power displaying tortured Fiyero to Oz whether it be "look what the Witch did to our beloved Prince" or "look what happens to traitors" it sends a message to the Ozians. I can't imagine them going without it if they can help it (and the fact they do come back empty handed and presumably lie about what happened to Morrible, can't have impressed her much)

Why doesn't the scarecrow get caught later then? I imagine the guards still don't necessarily know he's turned into a scarecrow - I imagine they ran away the moment the freaky magic started happening (and again, lied about the success of their murder when questioned by their superiors). There's also a non zero chance that, when they were taking a stiff drink after it all, Elphaba all "no good deed will i do again" returned to the field, found no Fiyero and the guards drinking (she presumes in celebration) and just burnt them all to death.

Thanks for the question! It was fun to specuate!

[strlingsav]

CAN YOU WRITE SOMETHING WITH SOAP FOR ME?

Let's imagine that y/n and Soap have been friends for some years (let's imagine high school) and they have had this sexual tension since then.

If y/n know about him being in the SAS? Your choice, I don't even know if it's possible to tell others. But she knows he's a soldier.

So one night, after task force 141 was sent home for whatever reason, they all meet up and y/n goes too with Soap. All the squad notice this tension between the two of them and they tease them. Let's resume it ahahahah they are a bit tipsy and they end up making up while soap is taking her home...and then she invites him over and, you know

I sure can 😇

Longing

– Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader

— Your feelings for your friend develop into something more.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

You ran a pair of flat palms over the hem of your blouse, smoothing any wrinkles or folds, inspecting yourself in the mirror. Johnny's voice, calling for your attention, pulled you away from your reflection.

"Sorry," You answered. "You're sure it's okay I come?" You asked, your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder.

Johnny had returned after more than a few months overseas, and so had his teammates. As if it weren't nerve-racking enough to finally see him again, he was pulling you into a last-minute meeting with a group of soldiers.

Your nerves were jumpy, like live-wires running through your limbs, and although you tried to pass it off as general nervousness, you knew it was seeing Johnny again that was giving you palpitations.

You'd been friends for a long time, seen every side of him you could possibly love or hate, and it wasn't until the last few years that you'd finally come around to acknowledging your feelings for him.

It was a silent longing, sitting on your chest anytime you saw him, talked to him, even when he wasn't around. Your judgement told you he saw you as a friend, nothing more, which made the ever-growing feelings that much harder to overcome.

It was undeniably tense, always had been, especially the few times when you'd bid him goodbye as he left for his work trips. The urge to kiss him, finally taste him and savour the dreamt-of feeling of his lips on yours, had been gnawing at you. There was a build-up of heavy temptation, feelings you ached to get rid of before you embarrassed yourself.

You weren't entirely sure how solid your intuition was- whether it was just that you'd known each other so long, or genuine attraction. Regardless, your feelings had fallen to the back-burner when Johnny left over seas the first time all those years ago, and you'd yet to confront them since.

A part of you wanted to believe it was better that way; his deployments were a stark contrast to the happily-ever-after you'd talked about since you were younger. But the larger, less logical, part of you that knew Johnny well would suffer through it just to be with him.

"Aye," Johnny's voice came through the speaker. "Just a few lads gettin' together for a few drinks. Nothin' serious." There was a pause, long enough to notice but short enough to leave you wondering. "And I've missed you."

Your eyes shut, savouring the way his words sounded. He was talking to you- he missed you.

You nodded to yourself, exhaling. It was shaky, full of concern and worry, and Johnny could feel it. He wanted nothing more than to tuck you under his arm, squeeze in beside you on the couch and spend the night with you- only you- but he wasn't entirely sure if you'd be on board.

He liked the way you looked at him, like he was the funniest man on earth, and possibly the most handsome, but he feared he'd put meaning where there was none. He didn't want to read into your touches and soft parting kisses on his cheek, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to. Especially with just how badly he craved you- nearly always starving for just an ounce more than you'd give.

"Alright. You're there already?"

He could hear you moving, rustling about your apartment as you gathered your keys and wallet. He imagined the same flustered expression he'd seen so many times before, a small grin overtaking his face.

"Aye," He said again, his tone a bit more sharp than before. "Stop worryin' yourself. There's no rush."

"I'm trying," You grumbled, shutting the door behind you swiftly as you headed down to the street.

He grumbled your name softly, a light chuckle moving away from the receiver. "I'll see you soon."

He didn't give you another moment to question him, quickly hanging up. At the same time, you'd hailed a cab and urged yourself to get in without allowing for anymore anxious deliberation.

You stepped inside the bar not long after, your head on a swivel as you desperately searched for the pitch-black hair and ocean eyes that you knew would inevitably find you.

When he laid eyes on you, for the first time in months, he breathed in deeply. His chest was tight with anxiety, too, noticeable by his robotic movements and short sentences. His squad took notice, but they'd already known for a long time that Johnny had feelings for you. It was obvious, he didn't need to say it.

"Reckon that's her that just walked in?" Ghost spoke up, his eyes landing on Johnny who'd stiffened in his seat.

Johnny paid no mind to him, standing from his seat to wave you over.

Gaz chimed in from the corner of the booth, "How'd you tell?"

"Practically droolin' all over the bloody table."

Johnny ignored his ribbing, watching you step carefully toward him, avoiding the other bodies in the room that were reckless and drunk. The smile on your face had loosened his muscles, and when he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, he relaxed into you.

"Good t'see you again," Johnny mumbled against your hair.

"You too," You smiled softly into his chest. "Glad you're in one piece."

Johnny smiled, his hand finding the small of your back as he turned to introduce you to his coworkers. You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the two other men with a soft 'hello' before taking a seat next to Johnny.

He'd taken the liberty of ordering your favourite drink, sitting on the coaster, straw sticking out from the glass. You held back a gracious smile, your eyes meeting his as a show of appreciation when you took a sip.

The conversation between them was entertaining, albeit not entirely understandable given the confidentiality of their work, though the personal anecdotes and light pestering eased your fear of judgement.

Johnny hadn't changed at all- still the outgoing, funny man he left as those months ago, and it relieved you. It was easy to meld into their world, especially once the first impressions were over with.

Gaz turned his attention to you as Johnny rested an arm around your shoulders, his brows lifting with an entertained smirk.

"Johnny's told us quite a bit about you," He interjected. "Feel like I already know you." Gaz's eyes drifted to a Johnny's, who'd given him an icy glare.

"Oh no," You turned your head to meet Johnny's eyes. "What's he told you?"

"Little bit of everything, really."

"Can't get him to the shut the fuck up," Ghost added.

"Piss off," Johnny scoffed.

"Always on about seein' you again," Ghost interjected, ignoring Johnny's command.

Johnny was more than a drink or two away from drunk, but certainly not sober. His cheeks heated up at the mention of how frequently he spoke about you, and though you wanted to believe it was motivated by romantic feelings, you settled for the disappointing notion that it was just the idle conversation he made when he wasn't on duty.

"He is a chatterbox when he's drunk," You nodded, turning your gaze back to Ghost.

"Not just when he's drunk."

You took a sip of your drink, ending the conversation, trying desperately not to fall into the rabbit hole of what-ifs and maybes. You'd been doing it for years now, and it was exhausting. You'd undoubtedly tried to stop, for your own sanity, but it never worked.

"That's true," Your lips formed a tight line, unsure where to take the conversation before it became a source of intrigue for you.

"Enough gosspin', you hens," Johnny scolded, finishing his drink and setting it down with a loud gulp.

You hid a smile, finishing yours and sighing quietly. You checked the time- nearly last call.

"I should head out," You spoke up, clearing your throat as you eyed Johnny.

"Stay for another round," Johnny suggested, his brows furrowing.

You shook your head, "I'm tired, and I'm sure you'd like some time with your friends," You reasoned.

"We've had enough of him," Ghost chimed in. "Take him with you."

You offered a grin, Johnny's eyes narrowing at Ghost before returning to you. He stepped out of the booth, watching you stand before him.

"Let me at least get you home. We can catch up."

"You're sure?"

"Seen enough of these bastards for a lifetime," He teased.

After some polite goodbyes, you walked in stride with Johnny until he opened a cab door for you and slid in beside you.

"Have you talked to your mom?" You asked, your voice louder than intended among the silence of the cab.

"Spoke on the phone a few days ago. She's been pesterin' me to go see her already."

"She misses you," You argued. "She's entitled to her pestering."

"Don't see a lot of pesterin' from you," He quirked up a brow, shifting against the leather seat. "You didn't miss me?"

You rolled your eyes playfully- "I did."

"Hard to believe it."

"Why's that?" Your tone was laced with disbelief, and your eyes glanced to the driver, attempting to lower your voice.

He scoffed, "You've been shyin' away."

"I wasn't shying away," You pursed your lips. "I was nervous."

He knew better than to assume it was because of him- but as your eyes flickered between his, he thought he'd caught a glimpse of longing behind your stone-faced expression. It stoked the fire in his gut that had been burning profusely the entire night.

He shook his head. "You shouldnae pay any mind to Ghost or Gaz."

"They had a lot to say about you," You lifted your head again to find his eyes.

He nodded, "Always takin' the piss."

You tried not to appear disappointed at Johnny's dismissal of their adamance that he'd talked a lot about you. Whether it was true or not, you didn't think you'd ever really know. The lump in your throat was familiar- choking down the feeling of rejection.

The rest of the ride was quiet, with more tension growing between you. Your thigh rubbed against his, locking eyes every few seconds and offering awkward smiles. The air was thick, every moment passing was pure torture as he pressed against you, warmth radiating from his body.

The walk to your apartment door was no different. Unintelligible silence that was brewing a new kind of conversation. You stood outside your door, your eyes meeting for the umpteenth time that night, and Johnny inhaled deeply.

The liquor he'd indulged, combined with seeing you again after months away in less-than desirable conditions made him a bit more susceptible to risky choices. His teeth were nearly chattering as he deliberated whether or not to tell you just how much he did miss you, and wanted you.

He didn't want to lose your friendship- or you in general. If he had to be the one you relied on solely for platonic support, he'd accept it, but he couldn't continue through the unknown without speaking his mind before he lost it.

Watching you, even just as you fiddled with the keys in your hands, made him warm. You made him want to fall to his knees.

He cleared his throat, his hands finding the depths of his pockets as he caught your attention.

"They're not exaggerating," He said. When your brows furrowed, silence following, he continued. "I talk about you a lot. Miss you, a lot."

"I miss you too," You offered, in the most platonic tone you could muster.

He breathed in again, nearly frustrated.

"I cannae get you off my mind," He met your gaze, his eyes vulnerable as he began to unveil the simmering feelings under his skin. "I talk about you 'cause I think about you- all the goddamn time."

Your heart was rushing blood to your ears, utter shock settling in as he finished his last sentence. You were frowning- confused and yet excited at the same time. It was hardly believable that Johnny- the man you'd convinced yourself was just a friend- felt the way he did. The same way you did.

He watched your expression unfold, confusion at first, then your eyes softened, your parted lips closing together.

"You think about me?" You asked, your brows twitching. "What do you think about?"

He nearly laughed. Partially due to the nerves heating his body to an uncomfortable level, and because it was never obvious, to you. He'd been burning to get rid of the weight on his chest, the secret he'd kept for years, the charade he put on when he was with you.

He unintentionally moved in closer, a step in your personal space which forced your back against the door. He stood taller, staring down at you with eyes full of sincerity.

"Everything," He said. He was a bit apprehensive as his hand slid around your waist. "How you smell. Your smile." You were nearly chest to chest, your clueless expression egging him on. "Wonderin' how you taste. What you feel like."

Your breathing increased, rushed breaths of adrenaline fanning over his chest. He had inhaled a deep breath at the mention of feeling you- under him, on top of him, truthfully he didn't care.

"You think of me that way?" You asked.

"Christ," He shook his head, a grin forming. "Man bears his soul to you and you're still askin' questions."

He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours without wasting another moment.

Your body seemed to freeze for a beat, taking a moment to catch up with your mind as you realized he'd kissed you. It was soft and gentle, apprehensive in nature like everything else about that night.

The hand on your waist tightened its grip, pulling you closer when you finally responded to his kiss. Your own hands lifted to his shoulders, wrapping around lazily as he used his other to trap you between himself and the door.

It started light, a bit uncoordinated, testing the waters before they changed to raging waves that sloshed around in your stomach. He tasted like whiskey- smokey and acrid, with alcohol on his tastebuds. He was warm, his hands grabbing whatever part of you they could reasonably hold, desperately pulling you in closer and tighter.

He pulled back shortly after, finding your eyes. "Any other questions?" He teased, a smug grin on his lips.

"Do you wanna come in?" You asked, tucking your lip between your teeth.

He chuckled softly, nodding as you unlocked the door and swung it open. He pushed it closed behind him, yanking his jacket off and letting it fall to the floor as he grabbed your waist.

He pulled you into him again, swiftly lifting you to his hips. You wrapped your legs around him, reattaching your lips to his as he trudged down the hallway to your room, dropping you on your back.

He'd crawled over you, still latched onto him, sliding your tongue against his as he let some of his weight fall onto you. You exhaled harshly against his face, your hands reaching his jaw, pulling him as close as he could get.

His target changed, moving from the plush skin of your lips to the hot flesh of your neck, he left longing kisses to your collarbone.

"You've no idea how long I've been waitin' to kiss you," He muttered against your neck, warm breath fanning your cheek and ear.

Shivers lit up the nerves in your spine, your hands clinging to his shoulders.

"Is that all you've been waiting for?" You whispered against his cheek.

You could feel the smile form over his lips, "Nae."

He lifted his shirt over his head, revealing the physique he'd worked hard to keep from PT into his active service. It made your teeth clench together, taking in the sight of him, following the dark hair from his pectorals to his lower abdomen.

"I have lots o' things I've been waitin' to do to you."

His arms slithered around your thighs, tugging you into his body; you let out a quiet yelp at the sudden movement. His fingers undid the closures of your jeans, sliding them down your legs with ease, discarding them in the dim light of your room.

Your breathing hadn't settled, your head cocking to the side as you watched him crouch between your thighs, licking his lips. You hummed with anticipation.

His calloused palm ran up your thigh, over your stomach to palm your breast. Your chest heaved with excitement and anxiety.

"Take it off," He ordered, glancing up at you.

You met his eyes, snapping back to reality when you realized he was referring to your shirt. Quickly, you tugged it over your head, unclasping your bra before settling on your back.

Your hand inadvertently found the crown of his head, soft fingers running through his hair. He moaned softly, almost a purr as he leaned into your touch. His eyes fell to the lacy fabric of your panties and he sighed.

"Steamin' Jesus- you drive me mad," He groaned, his fingers squeezing around your thighs. "Lie back, doll."

You leaned back, watching with anticipation as he craned his neck, his breath fanning your lower half. His apprehensive tongue found your clit within seconds, causing you to jolt in his grasp. You felt him smile against you, though he didn't allow you time to recuperate as he flicked his tongue against your clit again.

You gasped quietly, tugging gently at his hair, your head falling back as he acclimated to your body and it's reactions.

Every squirming movement, sudden jerk- he held you in place, a strong grip forcing your thighs apart while he devoured you. You hadn't expected the ambition from Johnny, and were pleasantly surprised when he kept you spread open before him, his nose bumping against your pubic bone, his tongue gliding over your clit, his lips surrounding the sensitive flesh of your pussy.

"Johnny," You whispered, broken and whimpering, a show of gratitude.

He mumbled against you, lost in the sweet revelations that were your moans and gasps, your desperate voice begging for him. It was nearly overwhelming, realizing that it was your body twisting in his hands, your sticky skin sliding against his, breathless calls of his name when his tongue made contact with a particularly sensitive spot.

Your fingers pulled at his short hair, urging him to keep going, eyes squeezing shut as you enveloped yourself fully in the moment. It was nearly impossible to keep quiet, sure to anger the neighbours you shared walls with, but keeping silent was the furthest thing from your mind among the warming pleasure descending over you.

Your incoherent moans, echoing off the walls of your bedroom, became more frequent. Your head turning side to side, glancing down at his white knuckles and icy gaze- you fell apart with his head buried between your thighs, his tongue savouring every ounce of slick liquid that dripped from you, and as your pussy pulsated against him, he groaned.

You laid still, regaining your composure, sucking in a deep breath as he surfaced from between your thighs.

"Good?" He asked- though the grin on his face alluded to the fact that he knew the answer already- you'd soaked his face, his lips shimmering with your arousal, red and puffy.

"Good," You confirmed. "Really good."

His eyes blinked lazily, the same cocky grin on his face until you reached for his jeans. Emboldened with adrenaline and blissful excitement, you undid his zipper.

He was Johnny- your friend, Johnny- that you'd known for so long it was almost fate that you'd end up together. But your eyes met in the yellowed glow of the beside lamp, and he wasn't your friend, anymore. The feelings you'd shoved down, pushed far out of reach, had come bubbling to the surface once more.

Your stomach still fluttered with post-orgasm energy, though your mind was focused solely on taking everything he'd offer. His face dropped as your hand sneaked under the constraints of his jeans, dipping into his boxers.

Your hand reached his cock, pleasantly surprised by the feeling of hard flesh, soft and warm. He grunted quietly when your hand ran up and down his cock, exhaling sharply when your eyes met.

"Fuck me," He mumbled.

He leaned forward on his knees, connecting your lips again until his moans forced all the air out of him and he surfaced for a deep breath. His forehead knocked against yours, your lip tucked under your teeth as you watched him squirm in your grasp. His gaze had moved as he watched your hand squeeze and massage his cock, his hands planted firmly on either side of your thighs, weak with effort.

Your name left his lips in barely a whisper, and then his calloused hand wrapped under your jaw to push you against the mattress beneath him.

"Plenty o' time for that later," He said, dropping his jeans past his hips. "I need to be inside you."

"Please," You nodded, urging him to continue.

The silky head of his cock pushed against your clit, gliding down to your leaking pussy before slowly sliding inside you. Your head fell back against the pillow as you acclimated to his cock stretching you out, a guttural moan releasing from your throat.

It was slow and calculated, his eyes locked onto your expressions, only moving when your hips jolted up, your hands grabbed at his shoulders.

"More," You uttered. "Please, more."

A flash of a grin melted the concentration on his face, though quickly dissipated when he met your cervix with hesitation. He reached over you, gripping the headboard with white knuckles.

"Bloody Christ," He grunted. "You're tight, doll," He was breathless, though exerting little effort as he stumbled along, his hips barely moving against you. "And so fuckin' wet," He nearly moaned.

Your hips met his, a flush of heat overtaking your body at his words; he'd teased you before, swore worse than anyone you'd ever met, but the filth coming from his mouth made your lips part in shock.

He settled into a slow rhythm, his hips rutting into yours as you lifted your legs to his sides. Your hands clung to the back of his neck, meeting his eyes with an expression of pure lust and pleasure.

Your eyes shut, basking in the moment, configuring your body in a way that allowed him even deeper. Not a second later, he dipped his head down to your ear, his low moans and grunts against your cheek.

"Look at me," He ordered. "I wanna see you take it."

Your eyes flashed open, finding his amongst the movement.

Your words were choked up by gasps for air, especially as he sped up his pace, grinding into you, fucking his cock deep inside your pussy until you whimpered.

You could only utter his name- quiet announcements of pleasure. Your fingers slid between your bodies to find your clit, lubrication from your pussy helping to glide your fingers in circles around the sensitive bud until you clenched around him.

"You close?" He asked, tilting his head to watch your expression. "I feel you squeezin' me. Cum on it, doll," He exhaled.

He moved even closer, chest to chest, one hand now wrapped around your thigh, the other holding his body weight off of you.

His thrusts were unforgiving, even as your eyes widened and your chest broke with a loud moan.

"Right there," You nodded. "Keep it right there."

"You like it there? Deep in your cunt?" His lips were close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

"Yes," You whimpered, broken and desperate.

"Knew you'd like it deep- like my cock buried in you," He grinned momentarily. "Don't you?"

"Oh God," You nearly sobbed. "Yes- Johnny, yes."

Your thighs clenched around him, your pussy squeezing his cock as you came. His pace stuttered for a moment, your muscles milking his cock as you froze in place, your head against the pillow, lips parted, eyes glued to Johnny's.

"That's it," He cooed.

He continued thrusting, even when your limbs had liquified and you'd tried your best to hang onto him. You ignored the fatigue in your muscles, pulling him into a long kiss before craning your neck, whispering into his lips.

"Cum in me. Please."

He could've shivered, a chilling statement that made his cock rigid inside you. You were even more wet than before, noisy, messy arousal seeping from you and dripping down to the bedsheets. It was audible, loud- enough to push him over the edge, but your request immediately had him releasing warm cum deep inside you.

He breathed out, a few twitches in his body as his orgasm finished, before he slowly pulled out and laid down beside you. He reached over, tugging you into him before placing a kiss on your lips.

"Shame we hadn't done that a bit sooner," He sighed, earning a short laugh from you.

"We've got plenty of time to make up for it."

[lych33dragoncookie]

So, like... Anyone mind telling me when this fanbase gaslit themselves into believing all the psychological manipulation stuff Shadow Milk did in his main 2 Beast Yeast episodes was done purely out of loneliness or longing or whatever? Sure he started getting weird about it near the later half and DEFINITELY strange about it near the end there but...

Come on, don't genuinely try to look me in the eyes and tell me he did any of that because he felt like he had to or because he was lonely. In part, yes; that's why he was so damn happy to see Pure Vanilla start seemingly seeing things his way, and start acting more like Shadow Milk himself, but... that's not it. That's not JUST it. There's more. Of course, there's more. Do you lot not get it by now? He loves... LOVES, suffering. He. Loves. It.

"Oh but he doesn't-" What? Doesn't enjoy this? Doesn't like it? Isn't on board with it? Wrong again.

He loves every little bit of it. He's totally on board, and seems to consider this its own fun little form of art. "Oh but that's not manipulation" yeah, this instance isn't. He's just here to mess a little with Wind Archer. It's here to show just how sadistic he is, and how he draws absolutely no lines in the sand whatsoever so long as it's entertaining. Now, if you want to see him toy with someone else for his own amusement and sheer desire to inflict harm on a psychological and emotional level...

This last instance in particular is really amusing to me. We see him pull this exact little gambit again, on Pure Vanilla Cookie... I suppose he has his own preferred little methods of getting what he wants, hm~? He has quite a good read on them both, too. He knows they're each other's rocks; just as well as they are each other's weakspots. Such is the nature of trust and a tight-knit bond, isn't it? Something he'll gladly take advantage of... And, the best part is, HE LEFT HIS MARK ON HER! Oh, he did...

Though, that's not too hard to do, is it? It's more like... tearing at holes in already-torn fabric. Honestly, I cannot imagine how much restraint it must have taken to pull them away from each other at the spire... though, he probably got a chuckle out of watching them fall right into his little trick; playing at each's sense of doing what must be done no matter what, their little obsession with fate... and, besides, they probably expected to get separated sooner or later, anyways, right? It's just such an obvious, beautifully obvious little bit of bait... and they took it hook line and sinker, just like he wanted them to. There is no way he didn't get at least a little bit of amusement out of that.

Ah, but, we really haven't gotten to the most severe example of what he's really capable of, have we? It's an example people barely ever explore, frankly. And, I can't blame them! The focus is on someone else for just about the entire chapter, and at first glance she can just sort of be disregarded as a bit of a trope ball, but... trust me, she's the biggest example I could possibly provide. Not White Lily, not Pure Vanilla...

Her.

Oh, but she's so happy obeying his every whim! Serving him with her whole life! Doing absolutely everything to earn even the slightest of his affections, no matter what! Yes, exactly, my dear strawman; and that's exactly what's wrong here.

Allow me to let you in on a little secret. Most of the time, people aren't created a certain way. What someone is comes as a result of how they're molded, be it by themselves or their environment. The shape a person takes is not determined by their creation, but rather their experiences thereafter. Now, dear reader, think for a moment;

Could this possibly, possibly be natural? Could this possibly be the result of anything other than hard, cold, deep-rooted conditioning? He threatened to kill her. He. Threatened. To. Kill her. And she didn't flinch. Not for a moment. As a matter of fact, she went right back to adoring him, ceaselessly, without any hesitation in her heart. Eager, as always.

You can't tell me she was made like this. You can't tell me this comes from a sincere place of love, care and affection; a nurturing of any kind. If it were, how could she take a death threat so lightly, act like it never happened, not even act at all scared as a result? No, my dear reader, no... She wasn't made like this. This isn't natural. Why would it be? How could it be? Remember...

The act of Shadow Milk turning to deceit, deciding to make the world his', turn it into his stage; that act was what created Candy Apple Cookie. He was set in his goals, already, by the time she was made. Now, with the previous information about his character given... What do you think happened?

Here you are, having decided you're the one above all. That the world shall be yours, all yours, and only yours. And, now having embraced the power to do exactly that, you've been given something interesting. A blank slate. Someone who didn't have a life before you. Someone who was never given the chance to be their own person. Someone who only knows that they were created as a result of your actions. Someone who, with very little effort, could be whatever you want them to be.

Is it any wonder her obsession runs so deep? Is it any wonder she won't flinch at the threat of him ending her life? Is it any wonder the possibility of any, any kind of attention from him is all that fuels her every action? No. It's all she's ever known. He's all she's ever known. And, chances are, he made sure of that.

It really doesn't feel like his neglect of her is exactly something he doesn't realize he's doing, either. He treats Black Sapphire Cookie so much better, with so much more respect, calls upon him constantly... and yet, little Candy Apple Cookie is left there on the sidelines. Waiting. Hoping that eventually, maybe, someday, her devotion and efforts will be rewarded. And, I ask you, dear reader; why would she do this, if she didn't know what she was looking for? What she wanted?

Do you not see the picture forming, here? He knows what he's doing. He was given a blank slate, someone he could mold however he wanted. He had to make her like this. The praise he gives to Black Sapphire Cookie; who's to say Candy Apple Cookie's never known it? That, when she had been more recently created, the two weren't more actively involved with each other? That Shadow Milk didn't recognize her efforts, didn't praise her, didn't give her the kind of attention he currently gives his other underling... Only to stop doing that. Slowly. Slowly, but surely. Leave her hungry. Leave her wanting more. Make sure she dedicates her every living breath to trying to get it back. To getting back the only thing she's ever known. To keep trying and trying to please the very reason she exists, the only one she's ever had, no matter what.

Now, I know this isn't exactly in the text, but... are these really farfetched assumptions to make, knowing him? No. No they aren't. Specially considering just how deeply ingrained all of this seems to be for poor little Candy Apple Cookie. Is it any surprise? The whole damn world is supposed to be in his hands, anyways. She belongs to him, as far as he's concerned. He couldn't care less. And she'll likely never realize that, because this is all she's ever known.

... Candy Apple Cookie's whole existence is just miserable, isn't it?

Ahem.

I hope I've made my point. Never once was all that stuff he did in Beast Yeast 7 & 8 just about Pure Vanilla Cookie. I feel like I've proven demonstrably enough that this is all him. He loves inflicting pain. He loves tearing his little playthings apart bit by bit. He's powerful, extremely so, but he'd rather put in the effort to make sure he breaks those he takes an interest in, instead of just destroying them outright. He holds no regard for anyone but himself, and he knows damn well how to make someone feel despair crushing their very being, slowly and painfully. He's not misunderstood. He's not just weird and unable to carry out his desires normally. He's an enormous sadist who loves taking control and playing with his food as much as he can, delighting in every single moment of suffering; knowing just what heartstrings to pull at to break someone.

He may be lonely, but that's a mere byproduct. He did this to himself. None of this is a facade. It's not a farce. It never was.

You're not looking at a victim. You're looking at a monster. He knows damn well what he is. And he loves being who he is. No matter how deeply unfulfilling it may be. It's all he could ever want to be.

... And I love that about him. Oh, how utterly so. <3

[coppercrow]

So I no longer think that Alastor made a deal with Lilith, nor that he is working for her. I do still think their disappearances are connected though.

Picture this:

Alastor while he's still alive fears the prospect of death due to the lack of control it presents. He finds a way to make a deal with a power (my suspicion is that it's the character Root of All Evil (Roo) that Viv has hinted is the background threat of Hazbin Hotel, who I imagine is what Eve became when she committed the original sin). Alastor sells his soul to Roo in exchange for power both in life and death. He kills a bunch of people and at least some of them are in aid of his deal.

Alastor dies and and arrives in Hell charged up on Roo's power, and with a direction to amass even more. He spends the next several decades slaughtering Overlords, but not doing much with what he gathers. He isn't interested in running a business, or gathering territory, just growing his power and persuing his whims. For Alastor it seems like he won the lottery with this deal.

Meanwhile we have Lillith who all through time has been trying to empower Hell and bring it together. Heaven started the exterminations, but she continues to persist even as Lucifer loses his spark. If Roo is actually Eve, she has every reason to want to see Lilith destroyed and Hell suffer.

So during an extermination seven years ago Roo gives Alastor an outright command: kill Lilith. This is obviously not something Alastor would be keen to do, but he has no choice. He goes after Lilith and they fight. Powered by Roo and the power he's amassed, he manages to win the fight and Lilith is killed, only to respawn in Heaven (after all she's been a loving mother and cared for the people of Hell, and the only sin she was initially guilty of was rejecting Adam, and she looked decidedly non demon-ish and didn't have any horns in episode 8) or possibly flees there??

Alastor barely makes it out of the fight alive, and spends the next seven years recuperating and trying to figure out how to escape his deal with Roo. He's finally realised that his deal isn't as good as it seemed and he's starting to pay the price. If Lucifer ever finds out what he did, he'd be a smear on the pavement.

Then he finds a possible solution: Charlie. The daughter of a fallen angel and the first demon, young and idealistic and in need of support on her brand new project. While she might not use her powers, she has the potential to become scarily powerful over time.

Alastor hatches a plan - show up at the hotel, give a plausible reason for being there, and slowly ingratiate himself with her and shape her progression until he can position her into making a deal with him. Maybe one favour won't be enough, but it can be a slippery slope for Charlie. When the time comes he can manipulate her into freeing him from his deal, and leave him free to carry out his own plans (maybe setting himself up to rule Hell through Charlie as a puppet ruler?)

Over the next six months he positions himself to gain trust. He manipulate Lucifer by antagonizing him into supporting Charlie and setting up the seeds of a confrontation with Heaven. Then the time comes and he pounces and makes the deal, and he has one favour stored away to use at the most inopportune time for Charlie.

Then the battle comes and Alastor gets cocky. He volunteers himself to deal with Adam, and nearly dies for it. This freaks him the fuck out - he'd already gotten his favour but he risked himself to save them all more than he really needed to. I think that despite himself he'd started to think fondly of the hotel team and let it influence his judgement just a little.

In the aftermath of the battle he's shaken and his song is him reaffirming the plans he had when he first came to the hotel, and telling himself that he needs to escape his deal at any cost.

I think that in the coming seasons we could see the following:

- Alastor trying to double down on his whole 'I'm the untouchable radio demon' bit to try and distance himself from the hotel team, only to fail as they keep getting under his skin.

- Alastor slowly getting more desperate as the consequences of his deal close in, and increasing conflict as he wars with what this means.

- everything culminating in a moment where Alastor has to make a choice to betray the hotel team for freedom, and does it without hesitation and is all 'I'm the villain Charlie, did you really think I could be redeemed? How amusing.'

- Alastor then realising that despite having betrayed everyone he does actually care and his goals seeming hollow in the aftermath of this.

- the question of whether even someone like Alastor deserves a second chance/to be forgiven as he tries to convince Charlie to work with him to take down Roo, is the real threat to them all.

- Heaven and Hell fighting side by side to destroy Roo and the reformation of the afterlife entirely.

-

[spliqi]

listened to lacy and it got me thinking about higusano again …. goodness it’s been a minute forgive me if i forgor a lot all i know is i love them. anyways. something something higuchi hearing about how yosano was able to help the agency during/after the vampire outbreak while higuchi herself got turned into a vampire by the person she was supposed to protect.

like she already felt inferior back then, which led her to put everything into her job, but somehow that turned into a problem too because she wasn’t around to help when people needed her… i DON’T KNOW THOUGH please lmk what you think. again its been a while since i looked into her character

- @ixapixie

tumblr user ixapixie never ever doubt your wisdom you are cooking

i like to think that in the higusano-verse every time higuchi screws something up or gets caught in something that yosano manages to handle or avoid—for example the vampirism—it’s another strike towards her inevitable insecurity-fuelled breakdown that ends in them having a heated confrontation. (funnier if you imagine that higuchi’s envy is initially completely one-sided because the agency doesn’t know about her ability. so yosano is just like ??? what is this girl’s problem)

to me healer higuchi would probably end up having some sort of second wife syndrome about yosano but instead of marriage it’s about being mori’s apprentice and the go-to healer. constantly chasing after and trying to live up to the image of someone more powerful than yourself, more mentally strong and more able to deal with what their job throws at them than you are. of course, she has no idea about yosano’s backstory or the suffering she went through that led to her becoming the person she is now. she might see yosano’s sadism and clinical detachment as an inherent part of her rather than a coping mechanism or something purposefully manufactured to preserve the kindness at her core. etc

but yeah you’re so right i just wanna see higuchi in shambles and i want her to make it yosano’s problem #tbh. i want her to scream at yosano that there’s no way she could ever understand when in truth yosano is the person most equipped out of anyone to Get It and Get Her. you know

[kirain]

what do you think of this post about Gale? I saw it today and idk how to feel about it. h t t p s : // www. tumblr. com / galahadwilder / 741497332636467200

I couldn't disagree with it more, to be honest.

First of all, and I can't stress this enough, Mystra doesn't care about her followers. She cares about the state of the Weave and nothing more. If her followers don't worship her, if they're not useful to her, if they don't serve her purpose, they mean nothing to her. After she abandoned Gale, she had no interest in him until she realised she could use him to stop the Absolute—and she only wanted to stop the Absolute because it threatened the Weave. In general, Mystra doesn't care what people use magic for either, be it the most admirable heroics or the most depraved insanity you can imagine.

Case and point: Lorroakan. He is an arrogant wizard, far worse than Gale could ever hope to be, who uses magic for pure evil. When he beat Rolan, he undoubtedly used magic to do it. Do you think Mystra cared? Nope. You can help that nutjob achieve his goals, kill a demigod, turn him immortal, and give him free reign to abuse magic any way he wishes, but do you think Mystra cares? Nope. She doesn't. She doesn't care about people unless they benefit her. In fact, all three iterations of Mystra have a vast history of grooming, flat out 🍇, and the forced impregnation of unsuspecting mortal women. Despite being neutral good, Mystra is and has always been extremely vain, selfish, jealous, and problematic.

With that in mind, I'd like to break this post down piece by piece. Also, please be aware that when I use the word "you", I don't mean you specifically, anon. I'm more so addressing anyone who might be reading.

PS: Please no one harass this person's post. Their opinion is their own, and it's very respectful. At the end of the day, we're just talking about a video game.

Mystra didn't tell Gale not to juggle the torches. She didn't even tell him it was a torch. She let him go on believing it was a part of her missing Weave. Had she told him the truth, he would've stayed away. That's why he's so shocked in Act 3, when she finally reveals it's the Karsite Weave. He had no idea, and she likely never intended to tell him. She didn't before he went off in search of it, and she didn't the entire time he was locked away in his tower, scared and suffering. I can't for the life of me figure out why she wouldn't warn him, but I can only assume it's because she expected absolute obedience, or because she was getting bored of him and wanted him to mess up.

Whatever her reasons, she didn't tell Gale to leave the orb alone because he was "worthy" already. He clearly wasn't in her eyes, because he wanted her to see him as an equal. He wanted her to share her knowledge with him, which is perfectly fair in a healthy relationship. If you're dating a god and they treat you like a worshipper—that's all you are to them. A worshipper. A plaything. You're beneath them. You're unworthy. She told Gale to leave the orb alone because she wanted him to be complacent. She wanted to keep him in servitude. That's what she wants from all of her followers, though it's even worse when it's her lover.

In almost every story where a mortal loves a god, the mortal is either ascended into the heavens or the god gives up their divinity. And this isn't even specific to gods, but also vampires, werewolves, elves, and so on. Arwen, for example, gives up her immortality to be with Aragorn. Bella becomes a vampire to be with Edward. Hercules gives up his divinity to be with Meg. Elisa Esposito becomes aquatic to be with the creature. These are common tropes because it makes the couples equal.

Mystra contradicts herself by saying Gale was "always worthy", because her actions don't reflect it. He was a worthy distraction from her job, sure, but not worthy enough for her to treat him like an equal. So in order to prove it to her, to prove his love and devotion, he went after the one thing he knew she wanted—her missing Weave. Yes, she told him not to, and I agree he should've respected that, but this is on par with a woman telling her husband not to buy a bracelet she really, really wants because it's too expensive. If your husband worked extra hours and saved up enough to buy you that bracelet, would you divorce him?

Gale was completely unaware of the danger. He basically thought he was getting Mystra a bracelet. Had she taken the time to explain it to him, the whole catastrophe could have been avoided. He was just a hopeless romantic who wanted to surprise his girlfriend and prove he belonged at her side. The same girlfriend who very well could have made him her equal and shared her knowledge, but chose not to. Why? Because she's selfish. She didn't want an equal, she wanted a servant. We know this because, if you romance and ascend Gale, he will ascend you alongside him and give you your own domain! Mystra had the power to do this, or at least the ability to slowly ease him into it, but she refused. No matter how much he pleaded and proved his devotion to her, she refused.

Mystra did not save Gale when the orb embedded itself in his chest. He survived only because it fed on his gifts. He says as much, and so does she when you go to see her at the Temple. That's why, when we first meet him, he admits he used to be better at magic. He was once exceedingly powerful, but the orb basically knocked him down to level one. Mystra was perfectly happy to let him scramble to find items to absorb, knowing that he would inevitably run out and erupt. When we give him his third item in Act 1, the orb is becoming quenchless, and he knows his time is nigh. Mystra has nothing to do with satiating the orb until Act 2 and 3, and only because he becomes her wild card.

Gale: Mystra will consider forgiveness?

Elminster: She will consider ... what she considers to be forgiveness.

Even Elminster, her most faithful Chosen, knows her "forgiveness" isn't really forgiveness. It's an ultimatum. Do this for me and be welcomed into my hall, or die and literally go to hell. Why would Mystra make this offer? Well, because why else would Gale agree to kill himself only to end up in the Wall of the Faithless? How would that motivate him? Mystra didn't make this offer out of the kindness of her heart, she made it because she was desperate. Had the opportunity never presented itself, she would've let him die and suffer for all eternity, and possibly take hundreds of innocent people with him in the blast. She. Doesn't. Care. 🤷‍♀️

Now, one could argue Gale was asking for too much, but I'm going to have to call bullshit on that. First of all, Mystra showed him things no mortal has ever seen. It's only fair he'd want to share her world and learn as much as possible. Imagine if the Doctor from Doctor Who picked up some random people and took them on breathtaking adventures, but the audience got mad at them for wanting to see as much as they could. Amy, Clara, Rose, etc.—none of them could live a normal life after meeting him, and they wanted to learn as much about the universe as possible. But everyone loves those characters. They don't get mad. There's even several episodes where the companions call the Doctor out for not treating them as equals, and he admits he's wrong for doing that and adjusts his way of thinking.

I would argue that the only real divide between Mystra and Shar/Vlaakith is that Mystra doesn't inflict physical pain ... most of the time. That's it. Vlaakith and Shar only care about themselves and the effectiveness of their followers, but the exact same applies to Mystra. She is the Weave, and she only cares about the Weave; therefore, she only cares about herself. She had ample opportunity to help Gale or tell him the truth, but she didn't until it was convenient for her. The gods of D&D are basically the Greek Pantheon gods—a bunch of assholes toying with mortals, regardless of their alignment. The odd one is decent, but most are only out for themselves and their rule. Now, I will concur that Mystra is hardly the worst deity (in fact, she's unfortunately one of the better ones), but she's still not great and Gale is her victim.

To get a little controversial, I think the writers made a mistake. I know what they were going for, but I think they lost it along the way. At first, I was ready to stand with everyone and admit he belonged in the quintessential "overreaching wizard full of hubris" category, but upon researching the lore, getting to know Gale better, and doing several different playthroughs, I've come to vehemently disagree. First of all, before 5E (the current D&D edition), becoming a god was the ultimate goal for a lot of players, and that was perfectly acceptable, with many DMs providing celestial paths to make it possible. Moreover, many of the current gods were once human themselves, including Mystra!

Second, it's only hubris if you fail. Gale can ascend. He can succeed. Although it's not the canon outcome I would choose for him, he is right about the crown. He does his research and figures out how to reforge it. And he doesn't seek godhood to be worshipped, he seeks it to either free himself (and all mortals) from Mystra's chains, or for her to acknowledge and love him as an equal. His arrogance stems from insecurity; an insecurity Mystra herself planted and cultivated, and in the end he's not really arrogant atfter all. Does him wanting to be Mystra's equal make him selfish? Well, I suppose that depends on how you answer these questions:

Is your partner equal to you? If you don't think so, why are you leading them on? Why wouldn't you take steps to help them become your equal? Why are you holding them back instead of propping them up? If they show interest in your life, in your world, in the things you can do, why would you keep it to yourself, especially when you have the time and resources to share it?

Just some ambrosia for thought. 😉

[thestarswillguide]

𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐬 — 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Summary: Just some headcanons of what exactly was going through Aaravos's head during and after his imprisonment

Content/Warnings: Possibly OOC Aaravos (since it's my first time writing for a character), angst (him being depressed and angry (◞‸ ◟) ), Avizandum & Zubeia mention, Claudia & Viren mention, some sweet/hopeful parts here and there ₊˚⊹♡ (wc: 1.1k)

A/N: AHHH this is my first time writing!! (seriously I've never written headcanons or a oneshot or anything oof-) I honestly think these hcs are bad and I'm not sure they're really accurate or if I did this right, but I enjoyed writing them nonetheless 🥲. I had to keep stopping myself from thinking too hard as I imagined myself as him, and sort of just relax my mind and type whatever thoughts came to me, which is what I assume most writers do lol. Anyway, I hope this is up to par 😅. Don't be afraid to send requests and/or interact with me! ☺️✨ (tdp masterlist)

Divider/Gif Credit: @/cyberangel-graphics & @/firefly-graphics | Gif was made by me <3

✧ Aaravos is so relieved to be out of his prison.

✧ Honestly, the council having killed his daughter had already damaged his mental health enough. Being trapped alone in what appeared to be the same place he'd raised her in didn’t help his state at all...

✧ Don’t think he didn’t try to learn about what he was confined in. He examined every part and every oddity, sifting through all his knowledge to figure out the who, what, where, when, why, and how.

✧ I guarantee that not long after he was imprisoned, he attempted at least once to use his Star powers to escape. It was honestly aggravating to go from being a powerful being who could teleport anywhere in the universe to a captive, either halted by the prison or ending up in a different part of it (I’m not even going to mention him trying the portal-).

✧ You'd think because he's lived for so incredibly long that time would go by in the blink of an eye for him, but NOPE, he keeps track—he always does. And being imprisoned made that time feel torturous. To spend centuries without anyone to talk to? Heavens, he was so lonely that it got to the point where he started murmuring to himself...

✧ He would think a lot about his plans; how he’d get out and what he would do once he did. He was sure that the dark mages out there were getting stronger, and knew they’d be even more useful to him than before if one were to ever take the mirror somehow.

✧ The only way he could relax, even just a little bit, was by reading or thinking about Leola, moments spent gazing out of the window or at different parts of the house with a nostalgic smile on his face as memories from long, long ago blurred into his vision...as if time hadn’t passed at all... But that smile would soon disappear as those images faded away, his mind returning to why she wasn’t there with him.

✧ Whenever Avizandum watched him, Aaravos would either ignore him, give him a full-on death glare, or a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Many times, he’d leave the room just to spite him. Oh, why wouldn’t the dragon just drop dead?

✧ Even though patience is one of his greatest strengths, that certainly didn't keep him from being very upset about his predicament. Sometimes he’d look like he was in a trance, lost in his thoughts as all the rage and hurt he harbored made him want to curse and destroy all he bore ill will toward. But behind all that anger...he’s just so old and miserable from all the suffering he’s known and been through. Deep down, he aches for peace...

✧ It was a pleasant surprise however (if he didn't expect it that is) when the mirror brightened again and revealed a human. Aaravos didn’t allow himself to get too eager though (he definitely saw Viren; he’d be great at poker I swear 😂). Those scenes of him walking around the room seemingly without noticing Viren were just him assessing the human, waiting to see if he would be the right vessel he needed.

✧ The mortal staying showed him just how curious he was, and it was perfect. He was pleased because finally, he had a chance. An opportunity to be released. To continue his work and get around this exasperating obstacle.

✧ It was truly gratifying to see the world outside again and move about in it in apparition form. He’d used the caterpillar spell or ones like it before with those in Elarion, secretly whispering into their ear y’know?

✧ His playfulness and carefree smiles are pretty much a mask, a facade...but even though he’s severely depressed underneath, that’s still a part of his personality; it just takes the right person to genuinely bring it out...

✧ Which ended up being Claudia. Even before he was released, he was somewhat fond of her. She was willing to do anything necessary to help Viren, and when working to resurrect him, she often gave Aaravos's unsettling instructions a quirky/amusing remark. It made him feel some sort of way...

✧ At the beginning of season 4, that expression on his face as he was first looking around Zubeia's lair? Yeah, he was peeved. He hated being back there. That’s one of the reasons why he broke the mirror: one, because he was confident enough in the vessels he had to be his ONLY means of escape; and two, because he refused to be watched by a dragon for one more second.

✧ It’s obvious that he likes insects. If the caterpillar had been with him for the past few centuries, that’d have been his only friend. 🐛❤️

✧ As we all know, Aaravos tells half-truths, and although he meant what he said to Claudia about Viren being a great man and everything, it’s sad to say that it’s likely he knows he’s the cause of her father’s death. He had to conceal the truth though, else he would’ve risked losing the only one who would willingly free him.

✧ It was always the same inside his prison; there was no weather, no times of day (which makes it even more remarkable how he kept track of time imo, but he is a Startouch elf so... 🤷🏽‍♀️), nothing. So when he was finally released, everything felt...intense. He seemed calm but his senses weren’t, and he had to get used to all of it again. At some moments he would suddenly close his eyes (esp when the sun first came up omg), looking like he was just having a moment with his thoughts when really he was trying to deal with the bothersome sensations.

✧ And an arrow to the neck? Explosions hitting his body and eyes? Dragons beating him up? Getting bitten by the dragon and then BLOWING UP? I’m telling you, he took it like an absolute champ after having spent three centuries in a tranquil environment!

✧ But all of that doesn’t matter to Aaravos, because his plan had gone exactly how he wanted it to go, and now, he might just have one more reason to live. Losing Leola made him feel empty, devoid of happiness...but Claudia, she gave him the bit of solace his heart had desperately needed for the past few millennia. She had become his only light; his only light in the dark world he felt tormented being in.

✧ So even now, as he waits in the heavens for his return to finish what he started, his decision remains: to not let that light get put out.

𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥/𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 = 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦 😚🩷