#translates this into: -he wants attention-

[cressidagrey]

Building Blocks

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: How to parent a genius: A guide by Oscar Piastri.

Notes: Because I felt like it was very mean to just give you "half" a new piece of writing, with an edited version, here you have some fluff!

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Oscar had long since accepted that he was raising a genius.

It wasn’t the kind of genius that screamed for attention or rattled off multiplication tables at age two (though she could, and did, if she was annoyed enough). No, Bee’s genius was different—patient, precise, methodical in a way that sometimes made Oscar forget she was still learning how to tie her shoes consistently.

At the moment, she was halfway through assembling the LEGO® Technic Ferrari Daytona SP3—3,778 pieces, ages 18+, and she was building it upside down just for fun.

Oscar had found it complicated enough to need a YouTube tutorial and was now trying to attach one very specific connector piece. It was not going well.

“Papa,” Bee said gently, not even looking up from her own section, “that axle doesn’t go there. It’s a two-length, and you’re using a three. That’s why the gearbox won’t sit flat.”

Oscar blinked. “How do you see that?”

She shrugged. “I counted the ridges.”

Of course she had.

He changed the piece, and—miraculously—it clicked into place.

They were seated on the living room rug, surrounded by plastic trays of sorted bricks and half-finished subassemblies. 

Oscar had tried giving her a kid’s set once this year. Something with animals. She’d built it in seven minutes, asked him if it was a prank, and requested the Lamborghini Sián FKP 37 next.

He looked at her now—curled over her build instructions, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration, tiny fingers moving with frightening efficiency—and wondered, not for the first time:

How do you race a kid like this?

Not race in the literal sense.

 Race in the life sense.

How do you raise someone who could probably code her way into a Mars rover before she loses her first tooth?

 How do you parent brilliance?

Oscar loved her completely. That part was easy.

 But raising her… it sometimes felt like trying to build IKEA furniture with the instructions written in Latin while she translated them into quantum theory beside you.

When Bee was two, he’d brought home a simple Lego castle. The 5+ kind. Pink turrets. Smiling bricks. It had taken her twenty-four minutes. No instructions. One correction.

They moved to the 10+ sets after that. Then 12+. 16+.

Now they didn’t bother with age labels. If it didn’t come with multiple gear assemblies and at least two bags of axles, she got bored.

He leaned back, stretching out his legs as she sorted bricks with the focus of someone solving a global crisis. Her curls were pulled back in a lopsided ponytail, and she was humming to herself—some hybrid of Beethoven and the Paw Patrol theme. A mix of classical and chaos. Just like her.

And Oscar found himself smiling.

 “Do you think you’ll want to build real cars one day?”

Bee paused. Thought. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll restore cars like Mama does. I like knowing why something works. Why people make the choices they do.” She looked up at him. “I like your choices.”

Oscar’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“You do?”

She nodded. “You always come home. Even when you go far.”

He swallowed. 

Bee smiled, then reached for another piece, her tiny hands precise. “Mama said you have to go race soon.”

“Yeah. In Japan.”

She nodded. “Don’t forget my shirt.”

Oscar smiled, eyes crinkling. “Never.”

They worked in silence for a while. The only sounds were the click of Lego pieces and the distant hum of the dishwasher.

Oscar watched her move—steady, focused, brilliant. She didn’t fidget. Didn’t question herself. She just knew what she wanted to build and made it happen.

He was raising a genius.

 And not just the kind with facts in her head—though there were plenty. She had empathy. Precision. Curiosity.

And she scared the hell out of him.

 In the best way.

The thing was, Bee wasn’t just smart. Lots of kids were smart. Bee was something else entirely. Curious in a way that never stopped. Observant in ways that made you feel like she could see under your skin if she tilted her head right.

She didn’t just memorize—she understood.

She asked how DRS worked when she was two and followed up with, “But doesn’t that affect battery deployment?”

She once looked at telemetry on Oscar’s laptop and said, “Why are you lifting before Turn 9 now?” and then told him why when he didn’t answer fast enough.

And somehow, she still wanted him to sit beside her while she built things. Still curled up under his arm during movie night. Still called him Papa like it was magic.

Oscar ran a hand through his hair, watching her snap together a section of bricks like she'd been born doing it.

“How’d you get so smart?” he asked softly.

Bee didn’t even pause. “Because you and Mama never make me feel weird for asking questions.”

Oscar blinked. His throat tightened.

“You don’t get mad when I want to read the building manual instead of the storybook,” she continued, turning the model gently to check the incline. “And Mama says it’s okay to love logic and glitter.”

Oscar nodded slowly, words caught somewhere between pride and awe.

He watched her now, slotting in a gear mechanism with tiny fingers and utter focus, her brow furrowed like a seasoned engineer.

How do you raise a kid who’s already looking three steps ahead?

Who watches a race and times pit stops with a stopwatch app she downloaded herself?

 Who reads two books a week and corrects the science in children's cartoons?

You don’t try to match her, Oscar thought.

You just show up.

You sit on the floor and sort the bricks. You listen when she talks about dolphins and binary code in the same breath. You answer every question, no matter how bizarre. You fold the shirts. You build the drawer. You take her seriously, because she always takes you seriously.

“Papa?”

Oscar looked up. “Yeah?”

Bee held up a completed axle assembly, expression bright. “Do you want to click this piece into place?”

He smiled. “Will you judge me if I get it wrong again?”

“Only a little.”

“Deal.”

He snapped the piece in. She double-checked it, nodded solemnly, and handed him the next one.

Oscar didn’t know how to raise a genius.

But he was learning how to build with one.

 Moment by moment.

 Brick by brick.

[marmotsomsierost]

"Do you know," she says conversationally, her voice slightly rough from shouting, "what the word for cleric in the language of my birth translates to?" She lowers Ravnda's body to the ground, drawing the soft wool snood from beneath her cuirass. The subtle gradient of deep blue to sunrise-lilac is marred by bloodstains of varying ages, but it's the warmth she's looking for. The hot summer day is already feeling cooler, despite the sun still hanging high in the sky, the lack of wind to stir the air, the weight of humidity lying sticky on skin. She stands, drawing the snood over her head and watching as the hunter in the distance tracks her with his bow. He's the only one not jeering and catcalling with the rest. He has an arrow at the ready, but not drawn; his scouts are scattered in a rough arc behind him. They're also the only ones doing any kind of rough post-battle triage rather than looting the dead and dying alike. There's even a few green-gold roses visible among those receiving medical care, so perhaps there's still something here worth saving. There's a large raven resting unnaturally still on the edge of her vision. She turns to it, glancing briefly at and then away. "You should leave," she tells it, then drops her voice to a whisper as she feels the harmonics start to claw their way up her throat. "Head to the water." She's only partly successful at shoving back the harmony; she watches ruefully as the old half-ogre full-on throws the man she'd been treating over her shoulder, picking another two up by their baldrics and walking at an unhurried but still ground-eating pace away to the northeast. That's not going to be subtle at all.

It's not. The discordant flurry of activity is going to draw the attention of the remaining leaders if she doesn't keep their focus. Pav- well, what is left of Pav, which isn't much- is too far away and in the wrong direction if she wants to distract from the retreating scouts, so she instead reaches for her shoulder, tearing the brooch free and swirling her capelet off. The shot silk flashes bruise-purple and blood-red as it flutters to the ground. Eivind is a bit farther to the west, and she's not sure if they'll let her get that far by continuing to gloat or if they'll tire of it and resume their attack, but she wants both the warm fleece-lined cape he carried and more time for the noncombatants to get away. He's fully dead now, no longer in the half-stasis he's fallen into after taking a killing blow meant for Ravnda and Killick. She could...no. They'd been quite clear after she'd had to explain why their payment for their extremely expensive passage on the courier ship had been abruptly and vehemently refused.

"Well?!" The annoyed shout pulls her from her reverie and for a moment she pauses. it would have been a blink in confusion, but it's too late for that now. Right. She'd asked a question at the start of all this. The end of all this? Time is getting too complicated already.

"No guesses?" She calls back, getting an uncreative series of curses in response. "Ah, it's fine, I have a different question for you first." Her fingers come away bloody after clasping the cloak across her chest. The edge of the cloak must have dragged along the terrible rend in Eivind's flank caused by that disintegrate spell- the magic resistance of a centaur only goes so far when it comes to killing spells. This is what she gets for trying something new. If he'd been suspicious and self-serving, the ray would have hit her instead, and he'd be able to make that fancy cider to cure the headache she would have gotten. Now she has an entirely different, much more frustrating headache to deal with.

"Did you hear her, at the end?" She keeps her gaze focused on her hands, wiping them clean; her feet, picking a circuitous path to where Killick had fallen, crushed beneath the abnormally large manticore they had brought down with their last, desperate surge of magic. She's sacrificed her eyes and ears and sense of touch to keep her voice harmonic-free; it's a struggle to see only what she's supposed to, to hear only what's around her. The enveloping softness of Eivind's cloak helps mute everything down to this world. Killick won't have much of use to her, but she's selfish. She's left her silk and taken Ravnda's snood and Eivind's cloak and the memory of Pav's last Song, and she'll take what Killick has to give as well.

"Were you close enough," she repeats, slightly louder this time, "to hear her last words?" More jeering, more crude jokes and promised threats are all that she gets in response. "Oh, come, you made such a grand deal of it, separating us and whittling us down to gloat, surely you were." Ah, there's Killick's cord bracelet, that will do. Transferring it onto her wrist takes only a moment, though if anyone in sight were alive to witness, the fluid motion going liquid-smooth with boiling colors and darkened light would make it a sight to Witness indeed.

"She said you were finished," he gloats as she finishes securing the bracelet. She hums, shaking her head. It's grown quite cool, the sun still high in the sky but now the shadows are weak, pallid things that waver along the edges, seeping into bone and memory, and the humidity now drawing away, leaving skin and lips feeling cracked and dry. It's almost time. She changes direction for the last time, moving directly towards her enemy.

"No," it hurts to speak clearly in one voice again, but she focuses through it to continue. "She told me you could not be allowed to win. She told me that i had to stop you. To do whatever it takes, no matter the cost." Movement draws her attention away, but it's just the paladin's squire bolting for the trees in a panicked sightless sprint. She Watches her for a long short frozen second before releasing her gaze. She's just a kid.

"My earlier question, though- do you know what Cleric means in the tongues of my people? No?" She steps forward twice, the distance between them stretching like taffy before snapping into place just outside arm's reach. "Cleric." The harmony wants to take her voice, begging to be called forward with little clawed feet, and this time she welcomes it. "One who Sees." She reaches out a hand, her arms by her side drawing the sword she never draws, stretching and wavering between the two as she presses his chin up. She's holding on by the threads of Killick's cord and Eivind's cloak and Pav's last Song and Ravnda's snood, every part of her that isn't touched by them flickering and wavering through the memories and bones of Being, and even though they cannot See, they can feel how the air burns with cold and the weight of the sun lays heavy in the shadows, light in the dark, hungry and curious like a hunting cat.

"it's her gift for you," she saysroarswhisperscroons, holding his head in place, watching his gaze flutter around like a flame-burnt moth, graciously allowing him to give in, to look at her of his own will. He tires quickly. His eyes are a warm, welcoming shade of honey-brown in the instant they look directly at her, and they sing in terror as they bleed into the emptiness at the heart of her. The last part of her, the memory of a life worn comfortable and smooth, might hope that the feel of Killick's cord and Eivind's cloak and Pav's last Song... and not the snood, the memory can finally admit, but the scent lingering on it, the gentle laughter caught inside the warp and weft: that-which-was-she might hope that they tether well enough to limit this devouring emptiness to the area of their last stand.

It's been so long and no time at all and always and never and will be and has been, and it is a bittersweet relief to not have to Be anymore.

to See is enough.

You were the healer—the last light of your party. But now your final ally dies in your arms, and there’s no one left to save. The enemy jeers, calling you useless. You look up, eyes hollow and black. The light is gone. The Void answers. You're no longer a cleric. You're something far worse.

[jungwnies]

branded | kimi räikkönen

୨ৎ : featuring : boyfriend!kimi x reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : jealousy and a few well-placed hickey's

୨ৎ : genre : angsty romance ୨ৎ : word count : 469

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

you were sulking.

not just annoyed — full-blown cold-shoulder, not-speaking-to-him sulking.

which kimi noticed the second you stepped into the hotel room and refused to meet his eyes.

“still mad?” he asked, voice calm, already toeing off his shoes.

you didn’t respond. just tugged the collar of your hoodie higher and crossed your arms.

he sighed quietly and set his phone on the table. “they were looking at you.”

“they always look,” you muttered. “doesn’t mean you had to brand me.”

he didn’t laugh. not even a smirk. just stood there, watching you with those quiet eyes of his. the kind that always saw more than you wanted to give away.

“i didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said after a moment. “i was… annoyed.”

you turned to him, arms still crossed. “you left a mark. four marks. i had to change outfits three times because NOTHING hid them.”

he blinked. “didn’t know they were that bad.”

you pulled the hoodie down just enough to reveal the edge of one — deep purple, right on the curve of your collarbone. kimi winced.

“…okay. i went too far, but you look…well…you look amazing.”

you gave him a dry look. “i looked like i lost a bar fight with your mouth.”

that got the smallest twitch of a smile. “to be fair, my mouth did win.”

you stared at him.

“…not helping?”

“nope.”

he walked over slowly, movements careful, like approaching a cat that might bolt.

“i was jealous,” he admitted, voice softer now. “you were laughing with one of the photographers. he looked… interested.”

“he was telling me about his baby,” you said flatly. “he showed me photos. of his kid.”

kimi frowned. “he should still keep his eyes off you.”

you rolled your eyes and turned away again — but this time, he wrapped his arms around you from behind. gentle, warm, familiar.

“i don’t like sharing,” he murmured into your neck. “not even attention.”

“you left bite marks.”

“i was drunk on you,” he said, lips brushing your skin. “still am.”

you let out a slow sigh and leaned back into him just a little.

“you better fix it.”

“i will.”

he nudged your hair aside and kissed just below your ear — the kind of kiss that melted more than it bruised.

“no more hickeys?” you asked.

“no more visible hickeys,” he corrected, a hint of mischief returning.

you turned your head to glare, but he just kissed the corner of your mouth, feather-light.

“let me make it up to you,” he said. “no hands. just apologies.”

you rolled your eyes again, but it was useless now. you were already soft for him. you always had been.

“…fine,” you mumbled.

he smiled and took your hand, pulling you toward the bed. “promise. no teeth. unless you ask.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[sugarwarachan]

18+, mdni, sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader, control + slight spit kink

he doesn’t like to be mussed. you knew this about sakusa before you started dating him, but still, you’re shocked at how controlled sex with him turns out to be.

you’re also a little bit shocked at how much you like it.

he’s desperate for you in a way that isn’t obvious. it’s hidden in his expression, eyes possessive and dark as he grips your jaw and holds your gaze. it’s there when he drinks in your whines and pleas against his neck, the pitiful little omi please making him harder than he’s ever been.

when gloved fingers pad at that soft spongy spot in your cunt, your eyes cross. the rough texture always undoes you, but sakusa brings your attention back to him. “look at me, angel. let me see how much you love this.”

sakusa doesn’t want you controlled, though.

he wants you destroyed, sloppy and messy and wet, your cunt so swollen and puffy all he needs to do is breathe on it and you'll collapse in his arms.

just before you cum, he tilts up your chin and caresses his thumb over your bottom lip. “open your mouth." the command makes you shiver; his eyes gleam in triumph the second you obey. "no one else roughs up my girl but me, right?"

you nod and stick out your tongue.

the hand on your throat squeezes.

"perfect little slut," he says before spitting a glob of saliva right into your awaiting mouth. "begs for every little fuckin' thing."

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works pls. reblogs and comments always appreciated <3 If you'd like to be added to my general taglist, let me know thru comments or my inbox bbys

taglist: @cielito--lindo, @one-scarred-mofo, @uekarashi

[mirai-lunar]

- Variant Sickness -

Invincible Variants x Fem Reader! Sick scenarios with some other random thoughts sprinkled in.

Includes: Sinister Mark, Omni Mark, Mohawk Mark, Veil Mark (Shiesty Mark), No Goggles Mark, Viltrum Mark

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: Dark Themes, Violence, Yandere Behavior

Sinister Mark

-He’s unhinged, but does care in his own way.

-He would prefer it if you at least enjoyed some of your time with him. Doesn’t have to be all the time though.

-Will always carry you normally. Typical hand on back and under legs whenever he picks you up. Won’t carry you any other way so don’t ask.

-Ironically, he does not like when you cry. For any reason. 

-If someone was the cause of your tears then they’re dead.

-But if he was the reason you’re crying then he’ll feel a pang of… something.  

-“Stop crying. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” 

-This roughly translates to: “Calm down. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

-He’d wipe your tears away with his gloved thumb. And once you calmed, he’ll go back to his normal behavior. 

-Which is inconsistent. Some days he’s cold and distant. Other days he wants your attention solely on him. 

-He believes he deserves it. After all, you’re his. 

-Won’t admit when he’s wrong. Ever.

-If you end up sick, you won’t get any special treatment from him. He expects you to be able to take care of yourself. 

-If you end up really sick, like bedridden, he just gets...quiet. And looks at you with a frown. You have no idea what’s going through that head of his. 

-You’ll have to tell him to take you to a hospital to get help, and he will. He can’t help you, so someone else should. It’s the one time he’s sensible. 

-Well, kinda.

-He’s not above threatening anyone that tries to touch you, including the doctors that are trying to help. 

-You quickly learn that maybe it’s better to not visit hospitals. That looming presence of his puts everyone, including yourself, on edge.

-Once you’re better, things are back to normal.

-He’s an okay conversationalist. It depends on his mood. Talks with him are usually brief and straight to the point. If you ever ask him why he kidnapped you, he’d have a cold smile before responding.

-“Why? Because I love you.” 

-That makes you frown. You are unsure of his definition of love.

Omni Mark

-Typical hand on back and under legs carry. He’s very gentle whenever he picks you up.

-He hates when you cry. It bothers him a lot. 

-The last thing he wants to do is upset you. If he’s the cause of your tears then he’ll frown before apologizing. If not, then he’ll comfort you.

-He doesn’t demand your attention, but he does enjoy it when your attention is solely on him. 

-He’s a good conversationalist. You can talk to him about anything and he has some type of input.

-Can be terrifying at times though. You’ve seen him fight before, and he’s ruthless. That keeps you up at night.

-How someone can be so uncaring towards others, but gentle to you is mind boggling.

-If you question him about this, he’ll respond simply.

-“Don’t worry about that. Just know that I love you.” 

-How comforting.

-He speaks his mind, but will refrain from telling you everything he thinks. He likes when you see him in a positive light.

-He’ll admit when he’s wrong, but what he says normally has a reason behind it. So it’s difficult to even determine when he’s ‘wrong’.

-Whenever you fall asleep at a table or on the floor at night, you’ll wake up in your bed in the morning.

-If you end up sick, you’ll have to assure him that you’re fine. And he’ll take your word for it. 

-Will still keep a close eye on you though.

-“You’re not eating.”

-You looked up from your food when you heard his comment.

-“Oh. Well I forgot to mention I can’t smell anything. Or taste anything.” You mixed the soup with your spoon. “I think that has something to do with the cold. I should be fine though-”

-“If you don’t eat, I’m taking you to get some help.” 

-You quickly finished your food. 

-You'll also get special treatment from him while sick. Lots of check ins, and soft kisses. 

-You try to push away from him so he won’t get sick, but he seems unbothered. 

-“I doubt I can catch anything you have.”

Mohawk Mark

-Carries you normally, but you’ll be thrown over his shoulder a lot when he’s in a rush. 

-No warning on his part either. You could be in the middle of something important and he just grabs you.

-Loves when you compliment him. But why are you complimenting him anyway? His ego is big enough.

-If you end up sick, he’ll be kinda rude about it. 

-“Could you sneeze somewhere else? I don’t want whatever the fuck you have.” 

-You’d frown before responding.

-“Can you even catch what I have?”

-He isn’t risking it. It’s the one time he wouldn’t kiss you. You could have a simple cold but he’ll treat you like you have the plague.

-If you end up even worse, fever sky-high, he’d panic.

-Shit Shit Shit!

-Best doctors he can find, along with a little threat sprinkled in.

-“If she dies, I’m killing every single one of you.”

-You get better. And scold him afterwards.

-“Stop threatening people Mark, those doctors were just doing their job.”

-“Just making sure you were a priority. Also a thanks would be nice.”

-Always speaks his mind. Always. 

-He’s a pretty good conversationalist. He actually has some sense in that head of his once you filter out all the crazy.

-He demands your attention a lot. However if you call him out on that, he’ll deny it. 

-Don’t pressure him into admitting anything. You’re usually met with a snide remark or an eye roll if you do. 

-He won’t ever admit that he’s wrong. 

-Also you have no privacy. 

-“Hey, where’d you put my- Stop screaming it's just me. Where’s my suit?”

-”Mark! Bathrooms are locked for a reason! Get! Out!!”

-He says that it’s all about him. But he does value your opinion.

Veil Mark (Shiesty Mark)

-Loves your smile. When you smile, he smiles. Though you can’t really tell when he’s smiling-

-How he carries you depends on your mood. It’s usually the typical carry, but if you’re lazy he’ll offer a piggyback ride. 

-If you can’t reach something, for example something high on the top shelf, he’ll grab it for you. But sometimes he’ll just lift you up and you can grab it yourself. 

-He’s a great conversationalist. Loves to talk, so you can ask him about anything. If you’re friendly with him, then a lot of playful banter would ensue. 

-“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You jokingly ask him. He’d laugh before responding. 

-“Fuck no.”

-Always speaks his mind. 

-If you end up sick and you brush it off as nothing, then he won’t worry about it. He’d still help you out though. 

-But he wouldn’t kiss you.

-“No offense but I don’t want anything you’ve got.” He’d tell you. You’d either frown or agree with him. 

-Now if you’re really sick? He’s concerned. 

-“Oh fuck, you’re not looking too good. You okay?” He asked you.

-“Yeah…just feeling under the weather. I need to sleep it off.” 

-“You slept all yesterday too. Let’s at least get you checked out.”

-You get special treatment from him when you’re sick. Though he’s probably not the best at it. 

-“Thanks for the soup,” you told him. As you put the spoon in your mouth your face went blank.

-“Is there something wrong?” He asked. You smiled. 

-“The middle is ice cold.”

-Whoops.

-Well he’s trying, so you can’t be mad at him. 

-Once you’re better it’s back to the usual routine.

-He’ll admit when he’s wrong. It’s not a big deal for him at all. 

-Loves when your attention is on him. It’s a huge ego boost. If you ignore him though then that’ll leave him upset. 

-All he wants is just some of your attention, is that too much to ask?

No Goggles Mark

-Carries you normally when flying, but is open to trying new things.

-Occasional piggyback carry when he’s not flying, and you can even sit on his shoulders if you want.

-Loves when you laugh. It’s his favorite thing about you. If you rarely laugh then he’ll try to make you laugh more often. 

-If you refuse to laugh though, that’ll leave him sad. 

-“Awww, you never laugh. Am I really that bad a boyfriend?”

-“You kidnapped me….?!” You reminded him. 

-He knows. He just thought you’d be happier by now. 

-He loves to talk, so he's the best conversationalist. Always speaks his mind, and talks to you about everything.

-Though you may not be able to get a word in edgewise before he decides to do something. 

-He desperately wants your attention. You’re his favorite person after all. If you ignore him too much, then he’ll act out.

-He’ll probably fly faster so you’re forced to grip his neck tightly. Or he’ll do something heinous so your attention is solely on him. 

-So give him attention to prevent these things. 

-If you end up sick then he’s concerned for you. Special treatment? Yes. Lots of kisses and lovey-dovey stuff like that. He doesn’t care if you're contagious. 

-If you’re really sick…then he panics. 

-If you’re in his world, then he’ll probably ask his dad for help. If you're in your world, then that’s a guaranteed visit to the emergency room. 

-Speaking of his father, Omni-Man doesn’t really like you.

-“Mark. You should have picked someone more…compliant. She’s a distraction.”

-“I think she’s great! You just don’t know her well enough yet Dad!” 

-Anyway, he’ll admit when he’s wrong. He knows he’s not always right. 

-Also quick to apologize too. He doesn’t like when you hold grudges against him. He loves you too much. 

Viltrum Mark

-Carries you normally. Hand on back and under legs. It’s effective, so why change it? 

-However, if you ask him to carry you another way then he might consider it.

-He loves when your attention is on him. Whenever he has your undivided attention, it always leads to other things. Whether it be some honest conversations or just some passionate romance.

-He’s a good conversationalist with you specifically. Normally he doesn’t talk a lot, but that never stops him from speaking his mind. He will always speak his mind. 

-He’s just more action-oriented. Prefers to hold you against him and kiss you more often than he says he loves you. 

-It’ll be difficult for him to admit when he’s wrong, because he's pretty adamant. 

-But if you bring up some good points in an argument that even he can’t overlook, then he’ll consider your words. 

-Any sign of sickness from you, I mean just a cough, and it’s off to visit the doctors. 

-Especially if he took you to his world. Viltrum has amazing healthcare, and he’s not risking you getting sicker. 

-If it’s on your world then you’ll still have a hospital visit, along with a remark from him about how incompetent the doctors are here. 

-“I think you just scared them,” you told him. You vividly remembered how he floated slightly off of the ground before leaning in to speak to one of the doctors face to face. That specific doctor left the room with pure terror in their eyes. “You can be pretty intimidating.”

-You rarely end up bedridden, because he normally notices the symptoms right at the beginning. But on the rare occasion that you’re really sick, then he’ll be worried.

-He’ll do a good job at hiding that fact though. You could feel like you're dying and he’d have the most calm expression before speaking to you. 

-“You’ll be alright. Just trust me.”

-That’s pretty comforting to hear.

-Once you’re better, you’re under a lot more scrutiny from him. He needs to make sure that never happens again. After all, he loves you.

~

I wrote this while sick. Hm, wonder where I got my inspiration from…

[kiame-sama]

Dragon Transformation

This is a spin-off "what if?" scenario if the potion in chapter 49 of HAE AU was a Dragon one instead

Warnings: Spoilers for Chapter 49 of HAE AU, yandere, yandere behavior, possessive behavior, alternate path, Dragon, potion hijinks, dragon to dragon communication sounds and looks violent,

~~~~~~

"What is going on over here?"

The deep growl of Divus sounded out as the displeased Selkie came over to check on what may have taken place. Ace and Deuce didn't know how to respond to the Selkie, not wanting to get in trouble despite what took place. Grim, however, did not care about getting in trouble, he was concerned for you.

"Water-dog, help! Mama fell in!"

The frantic cries of the Kit made Divus tense in fury as he quickly reached in to pull his precious Pup out of the tilted cauldron. His fingers brushed against the edge of a Uniform's fabric, gripping it and yanking back to pull the soft Human from the violet potion. What emerged from that potion was not Human.

Barely able to fit through the mouth of the cauldron was a scale covered beast that certainly did not look pleased. From a mouth of razor sharp teeth came a deep reptilian hiss of annoyance. Leathery wings flopped and wetly slapped the cobblestone of the Greenhouse as the Dragon wearing a familiar collar snarled at the pair of goats.

Though your scent had changed drastically, it was obviously still you despite your change in appearance and form. Divus was quick to release his hold on your thick Dragon tail and take several startled steps away from you. You may still be his Pup in almost every way, but he was not familiar with handling Dragons of any kind.

Similarly, you were not familiar with the form of a Dragon or how to really function as a Dragon. Every time you turned, your tail slammed into the toppled large cauldron and sent it rolling away. Your wings even managed to smack the two Goats that caused this problem and sent them back into the plants of the Greenhouse.

The sound of several footsteps drew your attention as a familiar group of Housewardens were quickly approaching. Though you recognized them and recognized they were likely here to help, something in your new reptilian brain said they were threats. A deep percussive snarling sound left your throat as you instinctually fled, snout easily scooping up Grim and carefully holding him in your elongated maw as you tried to lumber away.

You didn't make it very far.

Instead of fleeing deeper into the Greenhouse, a heavy weight suddenly pinned you to the cobblestone and kept you from moving. Long fangs met the back of your neck and held your head to the ground as you squealed in defiance. Despite your distress, a large part of your brain needed to protect the soft Kit you carried in your jaws from this new threat.

"Relax, my precious Treasure."

The low rumble of a familiar voice hummed in your mind, the series of growls and rumbling vocalizations translating in your mind. Slowly, the heavy weight above you released your neck and allowed you to calm yourself. The figure remained above you until you had relaxed before slowly dismounting from where he had been over your body.

Standing there- in all of his regal glory- was Malleus Draconia in his full Draconic form. He was a bigger Dragon than you by far and his green eyes smoldered in his sockets as he stared at you with an appraising look. His instincts were screaming to claim you however possible, seeing you- his most beloved Treasure- as a Dragon only fueled his desire tenfold. Malleus could barely contain his need to mount you again and keep you beneath him as he fought to remain calm.

Meanwhile, you gently set Grim down in your claws, the Kit somewhat shell-shocked by being grabbed so suddenly. He clearly still recognized you despite the surprise you gave him as he looked up at you with his lopsided stare. This little Kit was your Treasure and you were not going to part with him easily.

"Mama?"

A low crooning sound left your throat as you bowed your head to nuzzle against his soft fur. He was quick to purr in response and return the affection you gave him as he held your scaled face with his little paws. This little bundle of fur was your Kit, your Hoard, and you would not let anyone take him from you.

"(Y/n)," Malleus rumbled out a low hiss, "I will help you find your other form, but I will request several of your scales in repayment for my assistance. It seems- for however long that potion lasts- you are like me, a Dragon. I will not lie and tell you it will be an easy adjustment, but I will happily aid you in navigating that adjustment."

"... The Kit is mine."

"I am aware Grim is your Kit, yes. If it pleases you, I am also quite happy to share my Hoard with you as well. Lilia is quite the treasure on his own, and I know Silver will adore you regardless. You may find Sebek frustrating in his hovering, but he is certainly no common jewel."

You considered this offer, something about how he framed the other Hoard members as trinkets and jewels pleasing your possessive brain. He was right. His Hoard was full of treasure, and you wanted that treasure for yourself. The Dragon himself was quite the catch of obsidian, emerald, and amethysts prime for the claiming.

Your brain responded before you did as you lumbered over to him, careful to not harm little Grim, who had used his tiny claws to climb up between your wings. You found yourself pressing your nose along the neck of the larger Dragon, sniffing the intense and masculine scent that came from him while your own possession-driven brain toyed with his offer. It was an agreeable one, but you didn't wish to keep it at simply claiming his Hoard for yourself. You wanted the Dragon in your Hoard as well.

Malleus allowed your cautious exploration of his form, letting you mouth at his scales and nip towards his jaw. Dragons were not typically gentle when it came to sizing up other Dragons. Eventually, you seemed satisfied with your slow assessment of him and rest your neck over his. He allowed you to push his head and body down before you pulled yourself onto his back, laying over him as he had done to you.

"... Mine."

Your purr was a deep one as you instinctually rubbed your chin into the top of Malleus' head. The larger Dragon was content to tolerate your behavior and seemed keen to encourage it as he purred back to you. Even when you bit his neck in an unbridled need to claim, he allowed you to pull at his scales and hold him down. When your brain was satisfied with claiming the much larger Dragon, you slid from his back and he rose to greet you.

From the outside, this dance of Dragons was a violent one of teeth and claws. The deep snarls and percussive guttural vocalizations paired with reptilian hissing sounded like an argument. Fangs gnashing and biting at one another paired with clear dominance displays of pinning the other only worried the others to what kind of aggression you and Malleus were showing to one another.

"Should we... Should we step in and stop them?"

Azul worriedly glanced to Lilia, seeing the little Bat grinning ear-to-ear with excitement. The Cecaelia didn't know if he could honestly stop this violent dance without forfeiting his own life, so he had to look to the elder Fae for guidance. Lilia simply shook his head.

"No need! They're already getting along wonderfully!"

"You call that 'getting along'? They look like they're fighting!"

Leona hissed, stress clear in his voice and actions as yet another snarl was exchanged between the two Dragons. To him, it looked like a genuine fight despite no wounds being inflicted. The teeth in the neck was certainly hard to see as anything other than aggression.... Or perhaps a mating ritual.

"Nonsense! Dragons are rough, that is just their nature. They are greeting one another and establishing common territory. If it was a genuine fight, you would know. Trust me on that."

As the two seemed to find common ground, the other Housewardens looked to Lilia for details. It was clear the Bat Fae knew more than he was letting on as he seemed to actually understand what was being said between the two beasts. Dragon was not a common tongue others understood as it even transcended Fae communication. Still, Lilia lived his life as a Hoard member to rather powerful Dragons, and he understood the vocalizations better than others from his years of experience.

"How wonderful! They have come to an agreement about Hoard sharing and are willing to be peaceful in their shared territory."

The Bat Fae then turned to look at Divus who was still staring incredulously at the pair of beasts.

"I suggest she take residence in Diasomnia for the time being. It is equipped to handle Dragons and is sturdy enough to withstand their temper tantrums."

"If you say so..."

[burrythebusy]

Outlining my gripes with the ch. 29 TL

Alright chat. Basically, i have the same problems I had with the 28 tl but, to give it credit, it's definitely not as bad. (Note that I'm basing my opinions off of the TL posted on the most known sites, and I'm comparing that to the TLs of the numerous servers I'm in INCLUDING the one of the person that did the popular TL I'm doing the comparison of)

I think one of the most important parts of ch. 29 is how it bounces of of 28.

Small bit first, but this still bothers me

Considering how weirdly aggressive ch. 28 was translated, the whole idea that hirano "fought it" annoys me because he literally just flinched??? Maybe thats just how I perceive the term "fought" but he didn't try to pull away nor did he react that adversely as were being made to believe by the words (re: the whole "repulsed" thing as if he didn't just feel discomfort or even just shock which was the tlers own words too, but whatever)

Anyway, Hirano is thinking that he can't live up to the expectation of what defines romantic love (certain physical touches, kissing, etc.) He WANTS to be able to return Kagiura’s feelings, but if this is what romantic feelings are supposed to be like, can he?

Firstly, his convo with Ichinose is fine for the most part. My small peeve comes in with this page because Ichinose actually says "just kidding" after but without that this looks kinda mean 😭 but out of context it's funny as hell

But I want us to keep in mind what ichinose says here

"Its the best feeling in the world finding out someone returns your feelings" and he's, to me, definitely referring to Hirano here, not Kagi (this'll make sense in a bit) keep this in mind.

So, we get to the parts that I have the most issues with, which is hrkgs conversation

Another small petty note but

"Them's fightin' words asshole" is admittedly funny but WHAT LMFAO?????

Okay, here's my BIGGESTTTT gripe. Which is shocking but it bothered me the most.

That is not what Hirano says.

Specifically, Hirano says that "the sky suits Kagiura". The sky is SUCH an important mention here and it being completely omitted is actually nuts. Because without that, Hirano just looks like hes thirsting! Out of nowhere! Like what do you mean "damn he looks good like this" like WHAT? If i hadn't the context of other tls, I would think that he's talking about Kagiura's muscles or something because, while the sky is still a possibility with this wording, it's not the only one. "Like this" with his sleeves up? Smiling? Sitting next to you? Relaxed? What are we talking about here? This gives us nothing to work with KNOWING that the original text is saying that the Kagiura with the SKY as his backdrop suits him. Why omit the sky part????

We know Hirano is very fixated on the sky (pilot things whatever whatever). Hes always looking up at it. He sees contrails and distrails and clear skies and overcast, he pays a lot of attention to it. So when he says the sky suits Kagiura (and not vice versa) that's so freaking important. The one time Hirano notices the sky but isnt looking at it, hes looking at the person in front of him, with the sky as the backdrop, something he loves emphasizing someone he loves, them complementing each other. And you choose TO OMIT THAT?? WHY???

Again, reading this tl, I was like holy shit. Why is he just THIRSTING??

Completely ruins the meaning. And this was my favorite freaking page from this chapter. Its not that much to ask that you include the literal SUBJECT that was said right??? The SKY??? Come on.

Another small peeve, the way Kagiura says yeah I wanna kiss you annoys me. Its not incorrect by any means and I know it's just added flare and characterization but

It just sounds so... matter-of-fact. The tone is like "well DUH" when I didn't take it that way originally when he says "I wanna kiss you because I'm in love with you" and i talked about why when the chapter First came out

To me, this translation kinda... diminished that. But of course after this he still confirms that he doesn't want to DATE hirano because he wants to kiss him, etc. That part I'm fine with i think it was done very well.

ANOTHERRR nitpick I hate this wording "kinda has me craving it" this is CRAZY to read and it makes me convulse sorry. Hirano was ""repulsed"" by that touch?? Well I'm REPULSED BY THIS.

WHY R YOU SAYING IT LIKE THAT

Please refer to my reblog for the rest because I reached the picture limit 😒😒😒

[uraniathegypsy]

You know that strange itchy feeling you get when you see a character pop up enough times, you grow assumptions that you kinda hope your wrong about.....

Well that was me with this EP. of TBHX........(Spoilers ahead!!)

It might be because I'm already overprotective of E-Soul/Yang Cheng, But Shang Chao gives me the biggest Suspect vibes after re-watching the Ep. 3 times.

The first thing that caught my attention was his name: SHANG CHAO

Now we were already introduced to a Mr. Shang ( Not Shand, Good these english translation are such a mess), who is CEO of the Treeman Corporation after being the son of upper management in Mighty Glory.

But by the timeline, it can't the same person. So I thought cause of the name and the connects Treeman does have, he could possibly be the CEO's son/relative.

Having a different vision but the same cycle wanting to break into the Hero enterprise.

He has ambitious goal, which you got to be going against the Big 4 agencies. ( especially with DOS buying others out.)

However, he was able to get a spot, at MG, as a judge for the anniversary of one of their top heroes.

It could be because he's a possible Nepo baby or have a prodigy's eye, but him casually and inadvertently cockblocking Yang Cheng, pulling away his focus.

Now this could all be a misunderstanding. And misunderstanding is one of the most used tropes to create tension or false perceptions. Which during my first watch, maybe he's a cool guy, a friendly guy......

A guy that has a secret crush on Yang Cheng this whole time....

But while this was happening:

This is happening:

THAT MOTHERFUCKER IS GONE!!

HE IS ONE OF THE PANELING JUDGES AND HE IS GONE!!

So that detail caused me to think, what if he was the one who set that whole kidnapping scheme. He is obviously close to Yang Cheng's crush, and even has connections to get tickets to a concert she obviously wanted to go to.

So If he has connections to do something like this, than he has the means to make offers that could change a persons life financially.

Which brings me back to his ambitions

And how far is he willing to go for them.....?

It's too coincidental for this guy to show up every time Yang Cheng is with this girl and him showing up as judge for a competition he's participating in.

While the prevs for next episode show him being on Yang Cheng side, and I wanna believe this guy has his heart in the right place...

....but it's too eerie for me NOT to see that their is something sinister in his presence.

fingers crossed that I'm wrong 🤞🏾

Here's to @vaccoi & @marisandini-chu-blog for another crazy tbhx theory.

[connoisseursdecomfort]

The Stories and Symbolisms behind the Garden Codenames (1) The Sleeping Beauty, its origins and its symbolisms

[Manga spoiler alert: Spoilers after the keep-reading line]

Since Endo has given us new details about the Garden and its members (*cough* to be honest that one member), maybe it's time for us to attempt to connect the dots.

A. Dornröschen KHM50 and the Thorn Princess

Let's start with the obvious.

Yor's codename comes from the title of the Grimm/German version of Sleeping Beauty, Dornröschen (Dorn ["thorn"] +‎ Rose [“rose”] +‎ -chen [diminutive suffix used to make people, animals and things cute and small]). Dornröschen is translated to be 茨姫/いばらひめ (ibara ["thorn"] + hime ["princess"]) in JP, and Little Briar Rose in English. The princess is named Rosamund. The image of Yor, or to be exact, as the Thorn Princess, has always been associated with roses, too.

(Source)

B. The Eddas and the warrior goddess

While I was trying to reverse-engineer things and google いばら姫 (Yor's JP codename), I found this essay about the origins of Brothers Grimm's on the first page. Something on P.2 caught my attention: "戦死者の霊をヴァルハラ天堂に導く戦いの乙女" (the warrior maiden who guides the souls of the fallen soldiers to Valhalla, "the Hall of the Slain".) Guess who's also interested in 戦うヒロイン (heroines who can fight)? Endo.

(Source: Eyes Only, P.199)

The Sleeping Beauty has its origins in Nordic mythology and Germanic heroic legend. There is a similar scene in the Eddas where the hero, Sigurd, wakes up Brynhild from a magical sleep and marries her. Except the more interesting fact is that Brynhild is a valkyrie, a warrior goddess/maiden. Brynhild's story does remind me of Yor: "Odin stuck her with a sleep thorn and declared that she must marry." (Source)

The other thing about valkyries that are quite Yor-like is that with the connection with Odin, valkyries "existed in an earlier role as "demons of death'", but as they "became popular figures in heroic poetry," they "were stripped of their 'demonic characteristics and became more human, and therefore become capable of falling in love with mortals […].'" (Source) In the most recent Jump+ exhibition, Endo has said that Yor is the character that has the most character development since the start and he uses the exact same phrase - "she has become more human". (Source)

Ch.108 Yor being the "demon of death"

The Edda has continued to be inspirations for modern culture, such as Tolkien's The Hobbit, and Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen. And I mean, Wagner. Germany. War. *cough cough*

C. The Sleeping Beauty, the Eddas, and Greek mythology

Of course everything is related to the Greek mythology and the epics. Some claim that the good and bad fairies in Sleeping Beauty are based on the Moirai and the Norns. Not only because of the spindle, but also because they are there to "tell" the fate of the princess. Brynhild also has the ability to prophesy.

Ch.108

Other than Melinda, the Shopkeeper actually has all three symbols of the Moirai on him: the spinner (the needle), the apportioner (his role as the Shopkeeper), and the one who cut the thread (the scissors on his button).

Ch.115

It is also suggested that the bad fairy is based on Eris, the goddess and personification of strife and discord. She has initiated the Judgement of Paris by dropping the golden apple. Eris is "the rouser of armies", but she "does not participate in active combat, nor take sides in the war." (source) There's a theory suggesting that the soccer game between Westalis and Ostania is a metaphor for the conflicts and competitions between the SSS and WISE. By refusing to join the soccer match, it could be a way to show that the Garden doesn't want to take sides.

We do have tonnes of sxf characters which seemingly have been linked to some sort of Greek culture. We have Anya's chimera, the Desmonds' griffin, Sugmund Authen's "Eureka!", Barbara's and Demetrius's name, etc.

Yor's name has its Greek origins too. Endo originally wanted to name her Yolanda and it's later shortened to Yor. The Greek form of Yolanda is Iolanthe. There is an opera titled Iolanthe, and if you go to Wikipedia, literally the first sentence describing the first act says, "The beloved fairy Iolanthe [...] committed the capital crime (under fairy law) of marrying a mortal man." Interesting.

D. The Garden and the Beauty Sleeping in the Woods

Let's circle back to the story of Sleeping Beauty. The other Japanese name of the story of The Sleeping Beauty is 眠れる森の美女 (The Beauty Sleeping in the Woods). Where is the Garden located? In the woods. In Lin's tweet about M115, he calls the meeting "a secret meeting deep in the woods" (森奥の密会).

Ch.115

For Yor's character, we could interpret the transition of "being more human" to be "being awaken". However, it seems like there's another "thing" that is "sleeping" in the woods.

Ch.115

According to the story, when the princess falls asleep, the whole kingdom falls asleep with her, too. The good fairies try to reverse the effect of the curse - as a result, the princess won't die. She will only be asleep for 100 years.

Remember the theory about how once upon a time Westalis and Ostania used to be of the same country/nation/empire, but there's a split? If that is really the case, is the unification sort of an "awakening"? And frankly, that's probably how the Forgers can stay together without further complications? Anyway.

E. Others

Endo is from a prefecture called Ibaraki-ken 茨城県. Yep, the same ibara as Ibara-hime. His hometown, Koga-shi 古河市, is known for garden roses バラ/ばら "bara". Some think that "ibara" (thorns) is a transliteration for "bara" (roses). It's common to use the Chinese words 薔薇 to name/call the roses, too.

Now we've finally come full circle. Do you remember what the JP title of Dornröschen is? 茨姫/いばらひめ Ibara-hime. Some scholars think that Ibara-hime is a confusing translation - the ibara here doesn't mean only the thorns, but the rose bushes with thorns. (source) And therefore Yor's codename is not about the thorns, but the roses.

[pukefactory]

the moment I saw your recent sonic fic I jumped thru the ceiling and flew through the atmosphere

Okay maybe that didn’t really happen but anyways could we get some sonic and deaf/or handicapped reader hcs?? (Romantic or platonic is up to you 😎)

✦ . 　⁺ READY? START! ⁺ 　 . ✦

ᯓ★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Sonic the Hedgehog X Deaf Reader

ᯓ★ Character(s): Sonic the Hedgehog (Sonic the Hedgehog)

ᯓ★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

ᯓ★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

ᯓ★ Image Credits: @honeystarcamper

★ You catch Sonic’s attention without a single word. It’s not even your smile or your eyes or the way you sign with those quick, graceful fingers—it’s the way you listen, even without sound. That quiet stillness that holds more than any scream. He notices the way your eyes flick toward movement, how you read the world in tilt and tension. “Guess I gotta up my game if I want you to notice me, huh?” he jokes with a wink—and true to his word, Sonic starts leaving you notes, folded tight and tucked in places only you’d find: chili dog wrappers, your backpack, your favorite tree in Green Hill. “Hey, saw a flower today. Thought it looked kinda like you.”

★ He doesn’t always get it right—like the time he tried to sign “I missed you” and accidentally said “I punched you.” Your face was flat as stone. His? Bright red, hands flailing, laughing nervously. “I-I meant this!” He tries again, wildly exaggerated. It’s not perfect. But you’re biting your lip to hold in a grin. And yeah, okay, maybe he goes home and asks Tails to help him learn properly. Not because he has to. Because he wants to. Wants to speak your language like it’s second nature. Like you deserve to be heard—even in silence.

★ He becomes hyper-aware of his noise around you. When he zips in, he stomps the ground so you feel the vibrations. When you’re focused on something else, he taps rhythmically on surfaces so you can sense his presence. Sonic, the embodiment of motion and noise, learning to translate it all into touch. And the first time you instinctively lean into it, letting his presence buzz into your bones like thunder in your chest—He swears his heart skipped the sound barrier.

★ You teach him how to sign “I love you” one night. You’re lit up by the glow of the campfire, and he’s sitting with his knees drawn up, just watching you. Focused. Present. You make the sign slowly, guiding his gloved fingers. “Like this,” you mouth. He stares. Then looks down. Then does it again, softer. “Yeah,” he says. “I love you too. Always have, actually. Guess it just took me a second to catch up.”

★ Your deafness doesn’t slow him down—it slows him right. Sonic’s used to blazing through everything—conversations, adventures, decisions. But with you, he pauses. Waits. He learns to hold eye contact longer. To speak in clearer patterns when you lipread. To never turn his back mid-sentence. “I’m listening, y’know,” he tells you once, catching your hands mid-sign. “Even if it’s not with my ears. I’m always listening to you.”

★ One day you try to keep up with him—really try. You train hard, learn his routes, time your movements to the wind. But no matter how fast you run, the world remains eerily silent. No cheers. No whooshing wind. Just your heartbeat, and the sudden slap of impact when you trip. He’s there in seconds, kneeling beside you, eyes wide. You expect pity. You get fire. “Hey. You think speed’s what makes you strong?” he asks. “Nah. It’s this.” He taps your chest, over your heart. “Because no matter what, you keep getting up.” That night, you run together—not to race. Just to feel the wind. Together.

★ He’s had nightmares before—about falling, failing, losing everything. But nothing prepares him for your panic attack. You woke up in the middle of the night, hyperventilating, trembling, signing so fast he couldn’t keep up. Sonic didn’t talk. Didn’t panic. He just pulled you into his arms, pressed his heartbeat to yours, and signed one word over and over: SAFE. SAFE. SAFE. Until you calmed enough to look at him like he was your whole sky.

★ Sometimes, when you’re overwhelmed, you tug lightly on his glove. No signs. No words. He gets it instantly. No questions, no pressure. Just Sonic gently guiding you to your favorite place—quiet, calm, yours alone. Sometimes he runs circles around you until you smile. Sometimes he just sits beside you, kicking his feet, brushing your pinky with his. “Y’know, the world’s noisy,” he says once. “But you make silence feel…like home.”

★ You teach him to feel music through vibration. He brings you old speaker parts Tails scavenged, and you build a setup together. When the beat kicks in, your hands press to the table and your eyes close. Sonic just watches you glow, like you’re dancing without ever moving. “Man,” he breathes, “I thought I knew what rhythm was. But you? You live it.” Later, you pull him into a dance. He can’t hear it either. But when you’re both laughing and spinning under stars? It doesn’t matter.

★ Every time he signs “I love you,” it’s a little different. Sometimes rushed, sometimes slow, sometimes one hand instead of two—but always real. Always him. He makes up signs for you too: silly, private ones. A hand to the heart, then a loop in the air. Translation: “You make me dizzy in a good way.” You laugh every time. Sonic beams. “Got a million ways to say it, babe,” he says. “But they all mean the same thing: I’m yours. Fastest hedgehog on the planet—head over heels for you.”

[luffsdolly]

love and deespace men as vtubers - lovely idea by @sizzlingtigerkitten

[i would like to apologise before hand that i certainly don’t know the LIs enough to write an accurate head canon for everyone! i feel like for xavier and zayne they’re not rlly the kind to stream so this is kind of forced- but this is just my take xx, enjoy!]

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vtuber xavier- he’s definitely gained his audience with his pretty vtuber model (which he randomly commissioned someone to make one day, out of curiosity), and i say that because he’s not sticking to a particular genre of streaming, he sometimes does gaming, sometimes shows off his “pets” and sometimes even cooking. he streams for fun so he doesn’t want to put boundaries onto something that’s not his job, with that being said xavier often chooses to sleep instead of streaming.

vtuber xavier doesn’t mind “oversharing” with his subscribers on his personal life, as he’s not the kind to want to hide his real identity from the internet. his channel is a pretty chill one and you will see him stream at the most random schedule.

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vtuber zayne is very serious about his streaming, and makes sure everything he says on stream is accurate. again his channel will be very chill yet extremely informative, and he might even be the kind to post work with me videos and other educational stuff on whatever his viewer requested on. (while he spends a lot of time researching and perfecting his script, really his viewers are just there for his voice)

on the rare occasion he does game, you will find him spending more time prepping and strategising than actually playing the game, while also giving chat a lot of attention and love, with or without donations.

vtuber zayne tries his best to stream with a regular schedule, although when he doesn’t show up, he avoids giving the real reason, he’s using a vtuber model for a reason.

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vtuber rafayal definitely does art, most the time he’s just streaming as he’s doing his regular art commissions, as he finds it motivating to interact with his chat during the long tedious hours of work, showered with love and affection by his fans. while it’s not one of his main reasons, streaming also offers him an extra source of income and makes him feel validated for his artworks.

vtuber rafayal uses a vtuber model since he drew it himself, and he loves the way it turned out, so of course he wouldn’t let it go to waste; so it doesn’t really bother him when he accidentally showed his face in a stream one time, and now he’s so unbothered he just lets his face be in frame if it makes it convenient for him to draw.

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vtuber sylus does asmr, 100%. he calls his viewers kittens and gladly obey his fan’s donation requests, even the kinkiests. he could go on stream for hours just reading scripts written by either his fans or his personal secretary, he doesn’t need the money, he’s just streaming on a regular schedule because he likes what he’s doing.

vtuber sylus, as crazy as it sounds, doesn’t want other people to know that he streams, perhaps considering his occupation, or rather he’s a bit embarrassed; but it’s okay, he spent a lot (not that he cares) on his model and perfected it so he doesn’t mind either way.

ೀ⋆｡🌷

vtuber caleb streams gaming, he plays all kinds of games, minecraft, valorant, even fortnite, even otome games, name it and he plays it. he’s very good at pvps and he’s also very competitive, he’s gonna stream minecraft bed wars for two hours and get all wins like he owns the server. he likes gaming, likes winning, and likes the money from donations, vtubing is definitely for him.

vtuber caleb, i feel like, is the only LI out of the five to join a company and not be a solo vtuber, since there’s a high chance he’s doing this as his job by choice, that’s actually why he’s a vtuber, to be in a company and get advertised. he’s totally going to say something unhinged on stream and get cancelled tho.

written by @luffsdolly, do not copy or translate without credits or consent xx

[dimensionslip]

Dedue: I... will always be by your side... Dimitri, my liege... my one and only...

Or, a translation breakdown of this very powerful Dimidue exchange before Dedue turns into a demonic beast in Crimson Flower Chapter 17.

[EN Localization] Dedue: It is time. Your Majesty… I will avenge your father. You are the one true king…Dimitri. Grr… Grrrr! Dimitri: Dedue! I will fight by your side until the bitter end… As long as I am with you, this lance of mine will know nothing of defeat!

[JP to EN Translation] Dedue: It's time, huh. Your Majesty… You must accomplish your goals. To avenge my brethren… and the late king…! I… will always be by your side… Dimitri, my liege… my one and only… Ghh… Gghh… Guaaaaaaargh! Dimitri: …Dedue. Ahh… until the end, I will fight by your side. As long as we're together… this lance of mine will know nothing of defeat!

(The following is a copy-paste of my text from this Twitter thread. I will clean this up some more on a later date. Also thank you Mareza for bringing these lines to my attention years ago!)

While I can see how the localization arrived at certain lines, I scratch my head at why some portions were omitted to the point that it changed the vibe and meaning of the scene. To start off, the lines come off as more emotional and personal in Japanese, I feel. On both Dedue and Dimitri's ends, and is about twice as long when spoken in terms of duration thanks to it.

Dedue does not really say anything about personally avenging Dimitri's father, and actually mentions two separate things in this regard. "My brethren" (我が同胞) and "the late king" (先王陛下). Those should not be combined and should be counted as separate things here.

「我が」 (waga) can be translated as either "my" or "our", but in this context it's "my". Also, 「ください」 "kudasai" was not accounted for properly in the localization, since it's used to ask for something. Not something you use when referring to something you're about to do.

A small side note, 「我が同胞の……先王陛下の、仇を……！」 is more literally "For my brethren… for the late king, the enemy must…!" but it comes off a little clunky and not as clear, so I went for something a little less literal. There's an definitely an implied "avenge" in that text, which the localization did get. But mentions of Dedue wanting revenge for his brethren were not mentioned at all in the English localization.

Nonetheless, Dedue's last words are what absolutely carry the emotional weight of this conversation. He reassures Dimitri once last time, and then calls him "Dimitri-sama". Which I would like to draw attention to.

It was difficult translating this one. Dedue doesn't really call Dimitri anything else other than "Your Highness" or "Your Majesty" depending on the route/time we're talking about. He does call Dimitri by his name in their A support, but other than that I'm not sure where else. But 「ディミトリ様」 here is highly unusual, and I think they wanted to call attention to it. For Dedue, I think it's more personal than anything he's ever called Dimitri--in this route at least. Especially in conjunction with what he says right after that.

I think "Dimitri, my liege" is probably the best way to handle it given context. Normally I would translate "Dimitri-sama" as "Master Dimitri" or "Lord Dimitri", but that just does not feel right, and simply leaving it as "Dimitri" turns it into something else entirely.

But yeah, to further drive this very emotionally charged scene, Dimitri says all those things a few lines later. The most notable difference here is the way the last line was phrased.

Dimitri says "As long as we're together" in Japanese, which I think comes off differently compared to "As long as I am with you". The word choice puts a lot more focus on Dedue being there rather than Dimitri's presence, and I think that adds to the emotion of the scene. Not to mention, all these dramatic pauses. I was talking about this with @pluma_azurea (who helped with smoothing out some of the lines!) and we both agreed that it's the pauses here that really add to the experience.

In general though, I think the English localization handled Dimitri's lines well. And the same emotion comes off in both English and Japanese, I feel. But there's a notable difference in the way Dedue's lines are tackled, and I hope this post cleared some things up!

Ahh still… this is such an amazing set of lines. Emotionally charged and hurts in the best ways possible. It's also a lovely look into the circumstances surrouding Dedue's loyalty towards Dimitri. The intensity of it. Dimitri's sorrowful trust in him. It's also a neat nod to Dedue's hangups regarding the Tragedy of Duscur, among many other things.

[florihaei]

• ౨ৎ ────── JUST SAY YOUR MINE ⟡

˖ ！for my love nakamoto yuta ❞ 💭 ꒰ nakamoto!yuta x fem!reader

⠀.ᐟ - when you spend a little too long talking to someone else, yuta starts sulking like a kicked puppy. it’s hard to take him seriously, especially when he’s this pouty. ᡣ𐭩 𝜗𝜚

⠀︵ ︵ ིྀ established relationship!, 𓂃 fluff (a whole bunch of fluff), jealousy, drabble, request!!, pet names : baby, pretty girl, love!, WC- ꒰ 565 ౨ৎ

( FLORIHAEI’S VALUT )

秋のメモ… ︵ ︵ ིྀ - thank you so much for the request!!, i need to write for yuta more gosh!!, anyways likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated, please enjoy!!

©florihaei 2025 ꒰ do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without permission ۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ

you found yuta exactly where you left him, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed and his lips tugged into the softest pout imaginable.

“are you seriously mad at me right now?” you asked with a smile tugged at your lips.

he didn’t answer right away. he just shifted his weight from one foot to the other and gave you a silent, sideways glance. the kind he usually saved for when he was being extra dramatic…

you stepped closer. “yuta”

“im not mad” he mumbled, his voice quiet. “just think it’s funny how you were real chatty with that guy back there.”

you blinked. “the barista?”

he turned his head; full of sulk now, brows furrowed like someone had taken something of his. “he was smiling too much, and you were smiling back.”

you couldn’t help it, but you had to laugh. loud enough for him to frown deeper.

“yuta” you say softly, reaching for his arm. “baby you’re not jealous of the barista?”

he scoffed. “im not jealous.” “i just .. don’t like the way he looked at you, like you were already his.”

your heart tugged at how he wouldn’t meet your eyes. he wasn’t angry, just a little bruised in the ego, and honestly? it was kind of adorable.

you cupped his cheek gently, thumbs brushing over his skin. “first of all, i was asking about the milk they used in my drink. second of all..” you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “you are the only man i look at like that.”

he inhaled through his nose like he was trying to stay mad, but you felt the shift, how his body leaned into yours a little bit.

“still didn’t like it” he grumbled, but softer now.

you kissed the corner of his pout. “you don’t have to, but maybe next time you can just come over and kiss me in front of him. that way he really knows.”

now that got all of his attention.

his eyes flickered up to meet yours, finally letting the grin creep in. “yeah?, want me show everyone your mine pretty girl?”

you giggled. “you already have.”

he kissed you for real this time, slow and warm, like he had nothing to prove, but everything to remind you of

when he pulled back, he still looked a little sulky. but now he was the kind of sulky that wanted to be babied.

“you’re ridiculous, you know that?” you teased, brushing his hair back.

“maybe” he sighed, leaning into your touch. “but you love it..”

you kissed the top of his head. “always”

and with his arms wrapping around your waist, yuta finally stopped sulking, though he you had a feeling he’d bring it up later just to hear you call him baby again.

[multific]

Misunderstood Love

Eric Draven x Reader

Summary: Others didn't understand him, but you did.

Yesterday started like any other evening.

You were clocking out after a long shift when Erik Draven, dressed in his signature black trench coat and leather boots, showed up outside the building.

His pale skin contrasted sharply against the tattoos on his neck and dark clothes, and his brooding demeanour immediately drew attention.

With his hair slightly damp from the evening mist and his hands tucked into his coat pockets, he looked every bit the gothic enigma.

Your coworkers stared, their gazes filled with suspicion.

To them, he probably looked like something out of a crime novel.

Dangerous, aloof, and maybe even a little unhinged.

You caught a few whispers as you made your way toward him.

Some muttered about how he looked like a drug dealer or worse. Ignoring them, you walked right up to Eric, who as soon as you noticed you started smiling. His broody expression soon changed, he went from black cat to golden retriever in a matter of seconds.

“Long day?” he asked in that low, soothing voice of his.

You nodded, slipping your hand into his as you stood on your tippy toes to give him a kiss. “Let’s go home.”

Without a second glance at the crowd of curious onlookers, the two of you left together.

---

The next day at work, things took a turn.

As soon as you stepped into the break room, you were met with a barrage of concerned questions.

“Hey, is everything okay with that guy?” one coworker asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” another chimed in, “he looked kinda dangerous. Are you sure you’re safe?”

You could see the genuine concern in their eyes, but it made you chuckle.

They had no idea who Eric really was beneath the dark exterior.

“Guys, relax. That’s Eric, my boyfriend. He’s not dangerous or anything. He’s actually the sweetest person I know. He just… looks a little intense, that’s all.”

Your coworkers exchanged doubtful glances but didn’t press further.

You couldn’t blame them.

Eric’s appearance did scream “mysterious outsider” and his quiet nature only added to the mystique.

Still, it irked you that they judged him without knowing him.

That evening, as you told about the day’s events to Erik at home, he listened quietly, his dark eyes never leaving your face.

“They thought I was threatening you?” he asked after a moment, a hint of amusement in his voice. He was very close to laughing you could tell.

“Yeah. They said you looked like a drug dealer or something. I had to explain that we’re very much in love and that you’re not dangerous.”

Erik leaned back on the couch, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“They are not wrong, I am dangerous. Dangerously in love." he laughed but you weren't so amused. "Let them think what they want. As long as you know the truth, that’s all that matters.”

He stood up from the couch and wrapped his arms around you, kissing you on the lips. 

He always had a way of making you feel like you were special.

Because to him, you truly were special.

“Still, it’s frustrating. They don’t know how kind you are. How much you care.”

Eric reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “People will always judge what they don’t understand. Let them. I don’t need their approval. I have you, and that’s enough for me.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell.

Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you too,” he murmured back, his voice barely more than a breath. “And nothing anyone says will ever change that.”

As the night wore on, you stayed cuddling together, content in the knowledge that what you had was real and unshakable.

Let the world think what it would.

You had each other, and that was all you needed.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[anglbnny]

ᝰ.ᐟStreet racer!Rin

"𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑡."

ᯓ★ᯓ⚡︎

.ᐟStreet racer!Rin...Who also goes by the street name zero because zero people can get past him in a race. If he's ahead, just know he's staying ahead. Rin isn’t flashy. He doesn’t need neon lights or loud exhausts to make a statement. He’s the racer you don’t notice until it’s too late—the one who moves like a shadow, silent but lethal. His car doesn’t scream for attention. It whispers a warning. A matte black beast, stripped of unnecessary weight, built for one thing only—winning.

.ᐟStreet racer!Rin...Rin Itoshi isn’t just a street racer—he’s a living storm. Cold, calculated, and relentless. If you ever find yourself chasing him, don’t bother—he’s already gone. And once he’s passed you, you’ll never see him again. Because Rin doesn’t look back

.ᐟStreet racer!Rin...Isagi is the only one who can truly keep up with him. The only driver he sees as a threat. He doesn’t race for fun. He races to destroy. To prove he’s better. Faster. Unbeatable. When Rin’s on the track, there are no second-place trophies—only the ones who win and the ones who get left behind.

.ᐟStreet racer!Rin...When he wants something, he takes his time. Lets the anticipation burn. Lets the tension simmer until it’s unbearable. He doesn’t do frantic, doesn’t do sloppy. He makes you feel it. Every touch, every look, every sharp intake of breath. And when he finally gives in—when the control he holds onto so tightly finally snaps—he’s nothing short of devastating. A storm breaking, a hunger unleashed. You feel it in the way he grabs, drags, presses. In the way he breathes against your skin—low, ragged, dangerous. There’s no escaping Rin Itoshi. Not on the track. Not in his hands.

𝒗𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒔

♡. moodboard 1, 2, 3

♡. his car

𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟!𝑟𝑖𝑛

♡. winner's girl

♡. winner's girl p2

♡ Shut up and take it

♡...

ꨄ︎Anglbnny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist] [street racer!AU]

[pedropascallme]

Happy at Home

Pairing: husband!König x wife!Reader

Summary: "But you humored him, because you enjoyed the ritual of it. You enjoyed being tucked away with your husband, loving on him day in and day out until the two of you decided it was time to really go home, letting him have his peace—being his peace."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) p in v sex, shower sex, fingering, softdom!Köning, tiny bit of size kink (obviously), praise, dirty talk (a lot of it is in German), creampie, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Having some big feelings about husband!König and how in love with you he is and how needy he would be after coming home from deployment. Per usual, I don't speak German, so sorry in advance for any straight up nonsense my translations might be <3

The slow tick of the clock hand over the twelve marked another full day of waiting for König.

You sat idly in the living room, waiting impatiently for the mug of tea in front of you to cool. As the days wore on, you became more impatient about everything; unable to quell the excitement you felt at the promise of his return, the suspense of when the door might open with him there on the other side to greet you.

Fiddling with the string of the teabag, you turned your attention to the window, watching the sun dip behind the horizon

The setting was pretty, at least; the peaks and dips of the hillsides perfectly paralleled the waves of anticipation that rolled over you.

König always insisted on staying at the house in the hills when he came back from deployment. It was quiet, peaceful, and he preferred it to being immediately thrust back into the bustle of city life in Vienna after spending months at a time being used as a human battering ram.

He liked the tranquility that the rustic, rural parts of Germany offered; he liked isolating after deployment; he liked waking up in the morning and knowing that you would be the only person he would see all day.

You knew he loved it, but it was a pain to travel over the border, and the house was so far north, you felt you might as well be in Copenhagen.

Being in the house alone was no fun, either—the city, at least, was swathed in light and sound at all hours; here, though, the stillness offered little comfort late at night, and you worried about the old, rusted locks on the windows.

But you humored him, because you enjoyed the ritual of it. You enjoyed being tucked away with your husband, loving on him day in and day out until the two of you decided it was time to really go home, letting him have his peace—being his peace.

In the grand scheme of things, you didn't mind. If he was with you, you were already home, no matter the setting.

So you always got there before he did. You busied yourself with grocery shopping and ensured that the house held the necessities you would require over the days, or weeks, you ended up staying; you knew when he got here, you wouldn't have the time to do errands. You took in the sunshine and the landscape, trying to get through the days without focusing too much on counting down the hours that brought him closer to arriving.

You blew on your tea, still admiring the view from the window. You'd done all the shopping, you'd stared at the hills for long enough; now, all you really wanted was him.

When you heard the door click, it pulled you from your thoughts, and you felt a momentary rush of anxiety; it might be him, but it might be a crazed, chainsaw wielding farmer.

The door swung open, and you were giddy to see that it was the former.

"Meine Liebe—?" König called, dropping his bag unceremoniously by his feet as he trudged in.

His eyes fell to you, watching as you jumped from your seat and greeting you with open arms that swept you up. You reciprocated the action, scrambling to wrap yourself around him and hanging off of his body.

When you managed to pull him down enough, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck, you pressed your lips to his; an eager, passionate welcome for the man you'd missed to desperately. He moaned softly against your mouth, and you swallowed the sound with pleasure.

"Ah...You have missed me?" He teased when you pulled back, petting your hair.

"Yeah," you muttered, not willing to tease him back; not willing to lie by saying that you couldn't care less that he had been gone. "So much."

"And I have missed you, Schatz," he squeezed you tighter. "But I am back."

You laughed quietly against him. He never seemed to grasp the satisfaction, the ease that swept through you when he returned. To him, it was just another day; to you, it was proof that he was still alive.

"You're still in your uniform." You pointed out the obvious as you tilted your head up at him, pressing your cheek into the scratchy fabric of his kit.

"People get out of my way when they see that I am uniformed."

"You're ten feet tall," you cooed, "They'd do that, anyway."

He shook his head, brows knit in vague confusion.

"Ten is too many."

You laughed, and he seemed content to be the source of your amusement.

He'd had the foresight to remove his hood before coming home, at least—he wanted a completely unobstructed view, to be able to see you without the occasional sway of fabric in his peripheral.

And being able to kiss you freely was a plus.

You lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, eager to take all of him in, to openly adore him.

"You're filthy." You pointed out, your admiration of his face forcing you to notice scratches and bruises, the grimy discoloration from mud and blood on his skin.

"Es gefällt dir, Liebling," he chuckled above you, "Or do you lie when I am making you—"

"Different kind of filthy." You pressed a hand to his chest, backing away and smirking up at him.

"Bitte,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back in. “You will come bathe with me."

You made a face, now more than willing to tease him.

"You're all bloody..." You trailed a finger over a shallow scratch on his cheek, "And I showered this morning."

"You will need another." He stared down at you, expression tender but eyes hungry, starved for you.

"You think so?” You quirked a brow, reciprocating his obvious need but still taunting him.

König said nothing as he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder. He grabbed at your legs, pressing kisses to your thigh and staining you with the dusty remains of the dirt still on his skin.

"Schmutziges Mädchen," he tsked, as if you had been lying, "You must let me clean you."

"Hey!" You pretended to fight his grip on you, wriggling in his arms.

"Sh," he laughed as he carried you to the bathroom, "You complain for no reason, Kleine."

"You would complain, too, if I picked you up and dragged you to the bathroom." You grumbled, giving in and slumping over his shoulder, smiling as you tugged on the back of his shirt.

"Ich würde nicht," he shook his head, finally setting you down on the edge of the bath and looming over you. "I do not see any reason to complain, if a beautiful woman treated me this way."

"I'll remember that." You rolled your eyes, and he grinned down at you.

You took the position as an opportunity to reach up, dragging your hand over his clothed thigh and letting your fingers brush just beneath the hem of his shirt.

"You have a question to ask me, Liebling?" He sighed, folding his arms as he admired you from above and waited to see if you would submit.

“…Take off your uniform.” You hooked your fingers beneath the waistband of his pants.

“That is not a question,” he smirked down at you, letting your hands roam over his form. “You have forgotten your manners? I was not gone so long…”

“Will you take off your uniform?” You smiled softly up at him, “Please?”

You could hear the quiet, satisfied grunt that rumbled from his chest as he bent forward to take your hand in his, kissing your knuckles before straightening up and stripping himself down.

He paused when he got to his belt buckle.

“You as well, Engel.”

You bit your bottom lip, made more eager by his impatience, thrilled to have gotten the okay from him. You stood, stripping off the thin layer of clothing you’d been wearing, tossing them into the pile he’d begun to make with his uniform.

You were barely out of your shorts when König grabbed you by the waist, hauling you off your feet and bringing your face to his.

“Schöne Frau,” he kissed you slowly before dipping his face down and nipping the exposed skin of your neck and chest. “More perfect every day.”

You wrapped your legs around him, supported by his hands and waist as he left love bites on your neck.

“I missed you,” you breathed, closing your eyes and succumbing to the warmth that bloomed in your abdomen, the heat of his palms and the drag of his lips. “I missed you so much.”

“Do not miss me anymore,” König murmured against your neck, “There is no need, Kleine. I am here now.”

You rested your hand on the nape of his neck, desperate to be close, to seal off any gaps between the two of you.

“Are you gonna hold me here like this all night?” You mused, tilting your head back further when he began to suck on your pulse point.

“What is so wrong with that?”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“It is not my own.” König didn’t miss a beat, still pressing kisses to you, grazing his teeth against the marks he made as he argued.

“Still,” you sighed, “You’re d—dirty.” You lost the proper words momentarily when his hand dipped between the crevice of your thighs from behind, fingers barely ghosting over your slit as he changed his grip on you. “Shower with me.”

Now he paused, leveling his gaze with yours again.

“You are asking for the shower now?” He smirked, and you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Yes.” You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

“You said you had no need to bathe, Liebling,” he tilted his head forward, brushing your nose with his. “What has made you change your mind?”

He wanted so desperately to hear you say the words, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him that joy—especially not when you were itching to say them, to forfeit your previous teasing and cocky attitude and plead for him to do what you both wanted.

“Will you fuck me?” You pressed your cheek to his, purring into his ear. “Please, will you fuck me? Nice and warm in the shower?”

He let out a satisfied sound, and you could feel the vibrations travel through his body where you were pressed up against him.

“If you are insisting…” He feigned disinterest, though you could see right through it—and he knew that.

You laughed against the crook of his neck when he finally stepped over the edge of the bath, wobbling slightly in his arms when he reached to turn the water on.

“I will put you down now.” He said it with finality, easing you onto your own two feet and staring down at you.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy having you close, carrying you around like a doll, but he was eager to get a proper look at you; drink in your nude form as the water danced over your skin.

“Turn around,” you ordered, “Under the water.”

In the fashion of the obedient husband that he was, he turned, swapping places with you to ensure the faucet was spraying him directly.

“You take orders so well, Colonel.” You taunted, grabbing the soap and lathering it over him.

“Nur von Dir,” he closed his eyes briefly when you began washing him, but he quickly opened them, not wanting to miss a single moment; set on admiring you as much as he possibly could. “I am usually in charge, you know.”

“Are you?” You scrubbed grime from his face with only a bit of pushback from him. “They just give anybody authority, huh?”

“Seien Sie vorsichtig, Kleine.” König grabbed your wrist, halting your washing of his chest. “Or I will remind you of my rank.”

“Can’t pull rank on your wife.” You grinned up at him, knowing he was all bark and no bite when you had your hands on him like this.

“I will try,” he smirked, “Come to me.” He kept his grip on your wrist, pulling you against him and dropping his hands to your hips. You could feel him pressing his steadily hardening length to your stomach, and you swallowed the whine that threatened to escape you.

“At least let me wash off the dirt you smudged on me,” You pulled away from him coyly, turning your back to him. “Fair?”

He grunted briefly in protest but continued to let the water soothe him.

He watched you bathe yourself, a small part of him feeling greedy, desperate to have you return your hands to him so that he could bask in your warmth and your tenderness. In a moment of weakness, he almost allowed himself to feel jealous of the bar of soap in your hands, the object receiving the attention he so craved.

You went slowly, scrubbing lightly at the streaks of ashy brown that his hands had trailed over your legs and torso. It wasn’t meant to be teasing, but you certainly didn’t put any effort into going faster.

König huffed, impatient, and pulled you back to his chest, wrapping his arms around you so that you couldn’t move away again.

You let out a quiet sound from the back of your throat in warning; a completely empty threat.

“Do not walk away from me, Liebling,” his words were meant to be domineering, but his voice came out pleading. “Ich will meine Frau.”

His hands traveled lazily up your sides, and you could feel yourself giving in.

“Need to clean up,” you muttered half-heartedly, “Got me all gross.”

“You may clean,” he chuckled behind you, dropping his face to speak into your ear, “I simply wish to be near you, ja?”

He pulled you closer to him, forcing his erection up against your ass and making you shiver.

You loved this game. You loved that even after marriage, there was excitement; that you could play cat-and-mouse and rile yourselves up before giving into the very real, very intense urges you felt for each other.

Being here with him was unparalleled; you could live and die like this and be completely content.

His hands strayed over your stomach, one keeping you in place while the other dipped lower, running his fingers down to your clit before tracing your slit and teasing your entrance.

“That’s—” A quiet whimper escaped your lips when he pushed a finger to the first knuckle into your cunt.

“Sh,” you could hear the smile on his lips, “I will not get in the way.”

He gripped your hip, keeping you steady so that when he finally pushed his finger deeper into you, he had the leverage to thrust it in and out.

“Oh—” You let your eyes flutter shut, immediately forgetting about your prior insistence that you be able to wash yourself.

“It has been so long, Liebling,” König sighed, bending down to kiss your shoulder as he continued to move his finger in and out of you slowly. “I have been worried—what should I do if you forgot how I feel inside of you?”

“Could never forget.” You sighed, meaning it wholeheartedly—there was absolutely no way your body or your mind could erase the pure bliss of having him touch you; of having him stretch you to his liking over and over again.

“Gut,” he smirked against your shoulder, “I will not let you.”

He drew his hand back briefly to add another finger, pushing into your cunt with a quiet groan as he explored you for the first time in weeks. He could get off like this, if he really wanted to; bucking his hips against you as he worked your cunt open with his fingers, listening to the soft sounds you made over the drip of the water.

König felt breathless, leaving any remaining care behind, focused solely on you and the way you felt around him. He stared down at his hand, watching his fingers disappear into you only to reveal themselves again, covered in your arousal.

He reached up awkwardly, smacking lightly at your cheek to hold your attention before placing his hand back on your hip.

“Watch,” he ordered, though his voice was soft in your ear, “You will look at how I open you.”

You craned your neck, watching him thrust his fingers into your eager cunt, slick dripping down over the digits only to get semi-rinsed by the water that still fell from the shower head.  

“Do you see?” He mused, grinning at the way you admired yourself, “How beautiful you look on my hand? How you paint me?”

You whimpered, nodding. You kept your eyes glued to the spot where your bodies connected.

“Sprich mit mir, Kleine,” he nosed your neck, eager to hear your voice, to have all of you to himself, “Tell me how beautiful.”

“It’s—it’s pretty,” you whined, back arching to chase his fingers as they exited you, “I look so pretty with your fingers in my pussy.”

He groaned, nipping at your throat to express the gratitude that rushed through him upon hearing your words.

The hand he had perched on your hip traveled up to your chest; calloused fingers running over the peaks of your nipples until they stiffened, giving him the ability to pinch them and roll them between his fingers.

You leaned back against him, searching for stability as the coil in your stomach tightened almost uncomfortably. You waited for the final twitch of his fingers inside of you, and the gruff voice behind you to give you the permission you needed.

You could feel yourself squeeze the digits he had buried in you, walls pulsing around him tightly; he felt it too, groaning out deep huffs with every throb, trying to move his hand further between your legs in an attempt to stroke the delicate spot he knew so well.

You took a shuddered breath, eyes threatening to flutter shut as he just barely ghosted his fingers over your g-spot before pressing down more aggressively.

“Jetzt,” his voice came out soft and low, like he was holding his breath, “Bitte—jetzt, Liebling. Cum, and I will give you anything.”

You grabbed at his wrist, grip solid as you encouraged his movements.

“Just want—” you felt the initial trembles, the familiar constriction of your abdominal muscles as you succumbed to your high. “Fuck—I just want you.”

König moaned; dropping his face to your shoulder to stifle the sound, he moaned deep and wantonly at your admission.

It wasn’t as if he was shocked—of course a wife would desire her husband, crave his immediacy and his touch after so much time apart. But it was the way you said it, the adoration in your breath and the bodily responses he pulled from you.

He only ever wanted you, and to know for certain that the care was mutual, no matter how many times you confirmed it, was nothing short of orgasmic for him.

“Ja,” he sighed, arm snaking around your waist to hold you taut against him, “Gut. Gut, Kleine.”

He stroked lazily at your front wall, delighted by the harsh intake of breath it forced you to take and the way your body seized ever so slightly in his grasp as he prolonged the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Christ—” you finally tugged at his forearm—not irritated but realizing your need for even more. “You’re insatiable.”

“I have a pretty wife,” König chuckled, “It is only natural to want more.”

He removed his fingers from your cunt, bringing them to his mouth and groaning softly at the taste of you.

“More where that came from.” You murmured, turning your body to press your face into his chest, reaching up to stroke your fingers over the nape of his neck.

His cock pressed against your stomach, and you didn’t care to fight the way your thighs so obviously squeezed together, made only more desperate by the way the fingers of his free hand stroked idly over your flesh.

“Ich weiß, ja,” he released the fingers from his mouth, both hands moving to grip your waist. “And will you give it to me, Liebe?”

“Yeah,” you sighed into him, his wet skin absorbing the heat of your breath, “I’ll give you everything.”

You looked up at him, admiring the way the water of the shower flowed down his temples and converged to drip down his chin.

“You can take it from me,” you blinked away the stray droplets that threatened your eyes, determined to appreciate the view of him so close to you. “Just take it.”

He reached for your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek in a moment of tenderness.

“Ich werde.”

His tender grasp on your face dropped as he bent slightly, hungry hands slipping just below your ass to lift you up effortlessly. You laughed at his overzealous actions, the pleasant connection of comfort, trust and eager physicality not lost on you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, as you pulled yourself closer to him.

“I wanted to…” you collected yourself, sighing through the last of your giggles, “I was expecting you to let me go down on you, at least.”

König shook his head, brow furrowed.

“Why would I use your mouth when I can have your cunt?” He moved to press your back to the wall, trapping you between his body and the cool tile.

“Thought you loved my mouth.” You responded haughtily, looking up coyly through hooded eyes.

“Ja,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “But I like even more for you to use it to tell me how good I fuck you.”

You felt your cheeks burn, though the blush was due more to the way your heart pumped frantically in your chest rather than any embarrassment.

Your need for him was absolutely shameless.

König adjusted his grip, letting his hands hook beneath your thighs as he lifted you enough that your entrance was easily accessible to him where he had you against the wall.

“Hold on to me.” He commanded, focused on finally being able to thrust into you.

You didn’t need to be told twice, tightening your grip around him so that he could hold you comfortably in one hand and know that you were secure.

He reached between your bodies, tugging at his thick, leaking cock as he pressed his tip to your hole.

In a moment of clarity, his gaze drifted up to you, meeting your eyes with a look that read as pleading, and who were you to deny him his wishes? Doing so would only be denying you of your own, anyway.

You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss in lieu of a verbal confirmation that you were ready—but he knew, he always knew, and when he pushed his tongue between your lips so, too, did he push his cock into you.

You cried out. Already slick from his previous ministrations, he had little trouble thrusting into you. But his fingers paled in comparison to his cock, and to be stretched so intensely after such a long period of waiting made your fingers dig into his shoulders on their own accord.

But he liked the pain just as much as you did. Leaning forward to bury himself in you, he bottomed out with a grunt.

“You are—” he was at a loss for words, something that happened so consistently when he fucked you, but still something that made you swell with pride. “I have missed your cunt.”

“Use it, then,” you gasped when he bit a mark onto your breast, beginning to grind against him as best you could, “Show me—wanna feel it.”

König moaned, whiney and unrestrained, as he drew his hips back, pressing yours into the wall as he pulled out almost completely before slamming back into you roughly. You let out another cry for him, grasping at his biceps and tilting your head back.

“I will make you feel it, Kleine,” he grunted, repeating the action, “I will make sure.”

He settled on a less frenzied pace, bucking his hips into you while barely pulling back to ensure he stayed close. He craved your warmth; the heat of your body, the press of your chest to his, the vice-like grip you kept on his shoulders to make sure he stayed put, as if letting go meant he’d disappear.

The thought made him frustrated with himself—he never wanted to leave; he just had to. He had no choice but to submit to the whims of KorTac despite his unending want to do nothing but be near you.

But he would never abandon you as long as he lived, and he’d live as long as he could to ensure that you had anything and everything you wanted.

The rush of guilt eased into a shudder of pure devotion. He was here with you now; he had not a care in the world beyond watching you come undone over and over again.

“Ich liebe dich,” he leaned down to murmur the words into your jaw, letting his voice carry the short distance to your ear. “Ich liebe dich, meine Frau—meine Engel, meine Schatz.”

His head dropped to rest against your shoulder. You smiled at his words, tilting your face to press your cheek against his.

“I love you,” you whispered it, words meant only for him. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re home again.”

He whimpered softly, straightening up to capture your lips and lead you in a passionate kiss that only vaguely captured the increasing possessiveness of his thrusts.

It wasn’t out of an avidity to own you; he wanted you to see that you owned him, that he was yours, body and soul, and he’d do anything to provide comfort and pleasure and love for you.

You clawed at his back, rolling your hips in response to every one of his rough thrusts.

“I thought of you every day,” König’s head leaned back as he lost himself fully in the way your cunt felt around him, “You are on my mind always, Kleine—sheiße—I thought of you every moment. I think of you only.”

You mewled at his words and the depth of his strokes, working in tandem to push you quickly towards what would inevitably be a dizzying high.

“I thought about you all the time,” you whined through needy moans, “Always do, when you’re gone—needed you, needed you so badly.”

“You have me, Liebling,” he growled, “You will always have me.”

Again, his pace increased, and you were left clinging to him desperately, whimpering in his ear every time he nudged your cervix to the point of searing pleasure. One of his hands again snaked between your bodies, splaying over your stomach as his thumb stretched down to toy with your clit.

You bucked your hips, grinding against his cock as you eagerly accepted the friction he was providing you.

“Fuck—yeah,” you moaned, dropping your head to watch him play with you. “That’s—yeah, please, just like that.”

He laughed, smirking, as he pressed down harder on your clit.

“You are desperate, Kleine,” he accused you, lovingly, pointing out your frantic need. “Do you wish to finish so soon?”

He was teasing you now, and you could only whine out your reply.

“Said you’d give me anything…”

“Ja,” he mused, “And you, that I could take.”

He leaned into you again, practically flattening you between his body and the wall as he pushed his cock as deep as your body would allow.

“Will you let me take your pleasure, Liebe?” His lips ghosted over yours, “Bitte. Speak.”

“Ye—es,” you whimpered, “Yes. Please.”

He growled almost animalistically at your plea, slamming himself into you repeatedly as you remained at his mercy.

“I want it, Engel,” his voice carried an almost predatory tone, “I want for you to show me what I have missed so much—on my cock like this, you will give me what I want.”

You nodded dumbly at him, eyes closing slightly as your pupils rolled back at the way he matched the strokes of his thumb over your clit to the rhythm of his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls fluttered helplessly around him, right on the edge of the high you so craved.

When König nuzzled into your neck, juxtaposing the relentlessness of how he fucked you with such a tender display, your back arched, and all bets were off.

“Bitte, Liebling,” his voice was whinier now, tinged only slightly with a dominant edge but almost fully drowned out by desire. “Bitte, bitte—I need it, I need to feel you.”

He pressed down harshly against your clit, angling his body to ensure that his cock nudged the delicate spot at your front wall, and your body responded with shivering enthusiasm.

With a gasp, you could feel yourself cumming for him; tightness met with immediate fluidity, your muscles spasmed comfortably as you clung onto him through your high.

“Verdammt, ja—ja,” König grunted, hips stuttering in response to the way your cunt hugged him, pulling him back into you with every increasingly sloppy movement of his hips. “Gut, Liebe—fühlt sich gut an…”

“Your—you...” you gasped out, letting your words float onto his skin as you leaned into his chest. “Please…want it.”

You didn't have to specify; you both knew what it was you wanted.

“You want it?” König groaned a laugh, “You may have it, Liebling—I will—Gott, perfektes Mädchen—I will give it to you.”

He hugged you to his body, bringing you off the wall enough to slam you down onto his cock as he hurtled towards his own orgasm, rambling in two languages at once about nothing in particular except for how amazing you were; how much he adored you.

“I—I will give it to you, Kleine,” his tone was practically pleading, for no real reason other than to show you the urgency he felt to give you what you wanted and to have you take it from him. “T—take it from me as you would like—bitte, take it all.”

He moaned loudly for you as he came, spend coating your walls; the warmth made you shiver. When he pressed you back against the wall to rest, your shivering was only heightened by the chill that passed through you upon making contact with the tile again.

You took labored breaths, still tilting yourself forward to find comfort nuzzled against him.

After a moment of stillness, his cock still twitching inside of you amidst an atmosphere of pure, endearing intimacy, König spoke up.

“Do you believe we are clean now, Schatz?” He reached for your face, coaxing you to look at him.

He greeted you with a smirk that you returned, blissed out and content.

“Clean enough,” you laughed, “Though I think there’s a spot between my legs that might need a second swipe over with a washcloth.”

“No,” he tsked, purposefully adjusting himself to nestle his softening cock deeper inside of you. “You should not have to clean that yourself.”

You smiled, mewling softly when he readjusted your body in his arms. You pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck before letting your head settle properly on his shoulder.

“Getting all pruney,” you mumbled, “Should probably get out.”

“I will have to put you down, Kleine.” His smirk only widened as he spoke.

“But then you can pick me back up.” You pointed out.

He pretended to think for a moment before finally easing himself out of you with a hiss; you inhaled sharply, as if to protest the loss, but you didn't offer any verbal complaint. He helped you to your feet, an arm wrapped around you for support as you found your footing.

You stepped out of the shower once you stopped wobbling, leaving König to turn the water off. The slick between your thighs now more than obvious as you toweled off the beads of water still stuck to your skin. You had hardly begun investigating the stickiness between your legs, attempting to clean yourself up, when you felt his large hands on your waist again.

“Was machst du?” He had emerged, not stopping to dry off before he grabbed you, picking you up bridal style and looking down at you with wide eyes.

You wrapped your arms around him, unbothered by the notion that his hold on you would make the point of having toweled yourself off in the first place completely moot.

“Messy.” You made a face, legs fidgeting in emphasis of your point.

“I said you should not clean it yourself,” he scoffed, “My wife should not bother with such things.”

He began walking you to the bedroom, trying to shield you from the doorframes he passed through, though his large form ensured he did so rather clumsily.

“You gonna do it for me, then?” You quirked a brow, stifling a laugh when he bumped his elbow on the wall.

“Ja,” he spoke earnestly, “But I will not do it now.”

“No?” You smiled, “Why not?”

“Because it does not make sense to wash what I will only make a mess of again, Kleine.”

Before you could think of a snarky response, he dropped you gently onto the bed, clambering to join you; to give you more until you were properly sated, and then to do it all again.

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