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kerra-and-company · 2 years

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(@commanderhorncleaver) Can I get the first question from each category for Mx Kerralind~

You may indeed~ :D And thank you!!

1. Age, Birthday, Star Sign

In terms of literal years old, Kerra's almost 11. She was born at the beginning of 1325, on the 20th of the Season of the Zephyr (which, since that's at the start of the year, is January 20, I believe). That makes her star sign Aquarius!

19. Hobbies

Singing, playing the flute (literally, as in the instrument, to be clear), reading (sometimes, but not paperwork), and swimming (recreationally, sometimes--she's not super fast, but she enjoys it) all definitely make this list! And she sometimes does woodcarving in her spare time, too. Her bow is good evidence of her skill--though it's now been crystallized thanks to Aurene's magic and no longer really looks like wood.

27. What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them?

Ah yes, we have opened up the box labeled "Kerra's family." It is a large box. There are many people in it.

Please proceed below the cut :)

Kerra considers both Caithe and Trahearne her siblings. Caithe almost immediately got the "sister" label from the moment Kerra awoke. Though their relationship's definitely had its ups and downs, they're closer at this point than they've ever been. Trahearne got the "brother" label semi-tentatively during the level 20 PS (which was Malyck's story in this case), and it was then solidified during their work together with the Pact. They were, and are, close enough that Kerra fully would have died for him during HoT (which was actually a point of contention between them for a bit of LWS3, since that's not something he would ever have wanted her to do; they talked that through, though).

Kerra also has a couple of friends who are close enough to be sibling-adjacent but don't quite fit into one category, and that's Rel and Minei. Rel has been her friend since they ran into each other in Caledon (sometime between the level 10 and level 20 PS), specifically during an incident with the Soundless and the Nightmare Court. They stuck together through quite a few months, separated for a bit when Kerra joined the Order of Whispers and Rel traveled to Orr with Trahearne to conduct more research, and reunited during the level 60 PS. They're very much on the same wavelength about a Lot of stuff, they get along very well and pretty much always have, and they've kept in touch even as their individual lives take them farther and farther away from each other. Minei and Kerra met on Claw Island and bonded, in part, thanks to Kerra comforting her after Forgal's death (though Kerra was not doing great herself at the time, either). The other reason was that they saw through each other--Kerra figured out that Minei was very young to be part of the Vigil, and Minei saw that Kerra was scared/upset. They worked together a great deal during the rest of the PS and continued to work together during HoT, LWS3, PoF, and LWS4. (And technically some of Icebrood, too.) They still very much keep in touch even when they're not directly working together.

I feel like "family" usually isn't talking about romantic partners? Could be wrong? But, romantically speaking, Kerra has Nisha and Canach, which is a story in and of itself that I won't go into here. They are definitely very happy and very in love, though.

Kerra also has kids--Aurene, Rhi, Tev, and Ia! She wasn't expecting to get a daughter when Aurene hatched, but the second that she did hatch, that was definitely Kerra's daughter. She is so, so proud of Aurene, and she hates that she wasn't able to better protect Aurene from having to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders young. She knows firsthand how hard that is and had hoped Aurene would have more time to grow up. Rhi, Tev, and Ia are all sylvari sprouts, second-gen sylvari (but not Secondborn, haha). Rhi awakened after LWS4, and Tev and Ia (who are twins) awakened after Icebrood. They're all wonderful kids, even though they're pretty different, and they definitely consider Aurene to be their big sister.

(And technically she also has a nephew! Sindri, Rel and Trahearne's kid :) )

There's also the whole other complexity that is the Elder Dragons, if you want to factor them into the family tree. Kerra did label/consider Mordremoth to have the position of "grandfather", but she definitely never loved him like family (and hated him, in fact). It does mean that seeing Aurene facing down Kralkatorrik later on was a painful parallel for her, though.

34. What’s their room look like right now?

Cozy, slightly cluttered, lots of things. Nothing too stacked up or messy, but it's a very lived-in room. The bed's made, but not particularly neatly. There's books and pens and paper on a table to the side. There's an amount of pillows that's more than average. The blankets are blue. There's a few assorted posters on the wall in a corner of the room; you'd have to get close to read the text. The window's open. The closet door's open a crack; it got shut too fast and there's the tip of a boot poking out.

47. What was this character’s biggest turning point in their life, something that changed them almost completely?

There's a whole lot of things in Kerra's life that you could point to as things that had a huge impact, but as far as "biggest turning point"? That happened early for her. That's Tiachren.

Sapling-Kerra was, for the first month-ish of her life, almost painfully optimistic. Very bright, believed fully that though her mission was hard, of course she'd succeed. There wasn't another option for her other than for things to turn out well in the end.

She was very excited to meet Tiachren, to start on part of her Wyld Hunt, and they became friends (not super close, but still friends) very quickly. She was horrified alongside him to find Ysvelta had turned to Nightmare, and though she did truly believe Ysvelta could be saved, her duty was to help those in Astorea. The many over the one. So she let him go alone, and he understood--and then he and Ysvelta came to Astorea both with Nightmare, and Kerra was the one to kill him.

Tiachren has never stopped being a recurring figure in Kerra's nightmares. Ever. It's been almost eleven years now. His death is the reason she learned that she can function under extreme devastation, can talk to someone as important like her Mother (for the first time, no less) like everything's normal if she has to. His death is the reason she learned that to complete her Wyld Hunt did not mean that everything would go well, even if the ultimate goal was achieved.

And his death is the first reason the world ever gave her to be truly, deeply, angry.

Kerra keeps the optimism going forward, to some extent. She smiles a lot by default, is generally friendly and a warm person. But it's optimism shaped by knowledge of what could happen. And she keeps the anger, too.

#gw2 #kerralind #commanderhorncleaver #thanks a bunch for the ask! :D #and please enjoy these assorted kerra facts!#kerra Really does not like the nightmare court. like. at All.#the only reason she gets through working with them during HoT (which is a part anet cut that i put back in as far as my canon's concerned)#is because rel facilitates that #she would never seek them out and work with them #unless they were the only option left #and even then it'd be a Maybe #the anger she has over tiachren's death is (funnily enough) one of the reasons she understands canach so well later down the line #him showing up with the shield of the moon during HoT throws her too #and scares her #since she already cares about him at that point #ANYWAYS there's more lore i could share but this is already long so i'm stopping here als;djf hope you enjoyed!

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el-im · 2 years

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Liberation - October 16, 1968 (1993) dir. Bob Hulme

- You did a hell of a job raising our daughter, Margaret. - I didn’t realize I was raising her alone.

#why is he putting dry ingredients into the glass measuring cup... baby... BABY #i want him so bad #dumbest fuckin piece of shit on this planet #my sam <3 #ql #everyone saying this is a shit ass episode is probably right. idk im a few mins in but. him in an apron giving a very good speech abt #communication and nonviolence and patience with people... good. thats my sam.#'are you sorry you burned your bra last night?' *laughing* 'no!' he's so cute. he's SO CUTE. he's... very good. at playing playing (yanno)#this character #samuel beckett (playwright) mention one point adya #thank u random man of the week for slapping him on the ass. i needed that #QUAKER OATS TUBE SPOTTED #i want every ql ep from here on out to be. sam beckett causes a divorce (positive)#oh there's my onyx mexican pin again... oh lord.#something something something about seeing him wearing a diamond engagement ring and a wedding ring stacked... baby..#'you are not my only obligation in life you know' ok allllll #tina mention. one point adya #i should start drinking to this #LITTLE MISS THING CALLING AL A CHAUVINIST #IM IN LOVE #my sweet. beloved. beautiful sam. that is the worst salad i have ever seen in my whole goddamn life #'never in 200 years has there ever been a woman in the dining room'#quantum leap

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saetoru · 7 months

Text

BEWARE OF PHAGOCYTIC RAIN — AL-HAITHAM.

kinktober day three — aphrodisiacs ; find masterlist here

synopsis. the akademiya textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea, and mild sexual arousal. except the textbook lied. it’s not mild. al-haitham and you might need to pause your desert trip for a moment

length. 4.3k words (omg this is the shortest one so far)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, aphrodisiacs + dub con, mentions of injuries and blood (al-haitham gets stung by a consecrated scorpion), reader sits on his lap, hand jobs, unprotected sex, no prep, riding, creampie, implied (future) multiple orgasms, reader is mentioned to have a dendro vision + is a haravatat scholar

notes. i made this up. the new consecrated scorpions lore is that their venom can be a sex stimulant thanks

“haitham,” you complain—although, you probably really shouldn’t. in fact, you definitely should not complain. al-haitham has so graciously allowed you to accompany this trip to the desert, and you should not get in the way. still, your feet ache, and the sun is blaring, and god—would kill you both to have a break? “can’t we just stop for a bit?”

but with you, al-haitham is always patient. you can see him diligently take the time to be patient as he stills and sighs quietly, not letting himself ever get frustrated with you. “it’ll get cold if night falls,” he reasons, “c’mon, you’ll definitely want to rest inside the ruins instead of outside tonight.”

“but baby,” you protest, “my feet hurt.”

“i know,” he nods, like validating your feelings will make them any better, “but the safest option would be to camp inside the ruins instead of out here—”

“hey, haitham?” you cut him off, suddenly whispering quietly as you huddle closer, “what…what’s that?” he looks over his shoulder to where you point—and then he stiffens.

“oh, great,” he hisses, groaning under his breath, “seriously? now?”

what looks like a giant scorpion seems to be pacing in the distance, the large, sharp stinger on its tail clear as day, even from where you stand, a good range away. you’ve never seen one of these before, never even heard of giant scorpions that roam the desert. al-haitham has certainly never told you about seeing them, with all the times he visits the desert himself. he seems rather familiar with them, too, staring exasperatedly off at the beast as it circles the territory you absolutely have to pass.

“why is there a giant scorpion here? are there always these things in the desert? i’ve never heard of—wait,” you pause, “i have a textbook from the akademiya on desert exploration. i brought it just in case!”

“we don’t need that,” he insists, “i’ve dealt with these plenty of times. just leave it to me.”

you’ve never been to the desert—but al-haitham always mentions the ancient letters he sees in the ruins he explores. it’s tempting; being a scholar is always the never-ending temptation of knowledge—and you are both haravatat scholars, after all. studying an ancient alphabet is enough to make you plead with al-haitham to take you with him on his next trip.

he can’t say no to you, of course—he never can. but it’s your first time here, and evidently…it’s not going exactly as planned.

you open the book, skimming through the pages before your eyes land on a sketch that looks strikingly similar to the same beast you see in the distance. the textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. that seems like complete and utter bullshit—this seems rather deadly.

“haitham,” you whisper, “i think we should leave. this doesn’t seem—”

“we can take it,” he argues, “i’ve taken them before on my own quite a lot in the past.”

“but baby, this one seems a bit big—”

“it’ll be fine,” he assures.

you sigh, looking back at the book and scanning over the section that goes into detail about its attack patterns. “okay, fine—let me just read over how they attack so i know what to expect.”

phagocytic form—beasts enter phagocytic form immediately when in combat, resulting in an increase in resistance to all elements. there is double the resistance to electro attacks. well, you think, it’s a good thing cyno isn’t the one fighting today—otherwise, you think you might be screwed.

this is fine. everything is fine. you and al-haitham both have dendro visions; this shouldn’t be too bad, right?

melee combo one—beasts perform a two-part combo with their claws. alright, not too bad. you can easily dodge that, you reason. melee combo two—beasts perform a three-part combo consisting of a single strike with both claws, a flurry of claw strikes while rushing forward, and a projectile fired from its stinger. now that seems a bit troublesome, but you’ve dealt with worse.

“i’ll take care of it,” al-haitham calls over his shoulder, catching your attention as he draws out his sword. you look up from the pages frantically.

“wait, i really think we should handle this together if we’re going to take this. just let me read on the attack patterns a bit more—”

he’s already made the first attack. you can hear the angry hiss of the scorpion, can practically see the fury in its beady eyes from behind the thick skull covering its head. al-haitham, to your slight comfort, dodges melee combos one and two expertly.

maybe he was right—maybe you’ve been panicking for nothing.

you look back at the book. dig—beasts dig into the ground and attack the target from below, staying within the range of a visible electro ring. alright, as long as you leave the ring before the scorpion pops out of the ground, you should be fine. nothing to worry about. spikes—beasts plug their tails into the ground and rapidly produce spikes around themselves to shock targets. another easy dodge—you just have to make sure you escape the vicinity.

you look up, and al-haitham has already easily leapt from the ring and landed himself on higher ground. he waits, watches as the beast emerges from underground, and plants its tail into the ground—this must be the spikes. al-haitham is rather excellent at fighting these things—you have to admit. as soon as the spikes are gone, he takes his chance to plunge down, perfectly landing a hard hit to its head with the edge of his sword, making its body slump to the ground.

he might just finish this alone like he said.

“there,” he nods, flashing you a smooth grin, “i told you i’d handle it. now then, let’s—”

the loud, sinister hiss from behind cuts him off—it makes you watch in abject horror as the scorpion rises and does a rapid spin.

you look over the pages as quickly as you can—is there more? there’s nothing else on the page, is there? you quickly flick your eyes to the next page and—oh.

oh no.

phagocytic rain—beasts rapidly spin and scatter many stingers into the air before slamming their claws and unleashing stingers down from above. these stingers, once pierced into the skin, can cause side effects as a result of consecrated venom.

“well, it’s never done that before,” al-haitham holds up his sword, getting ready to fight.

no. he has to get away—he needs to get away. the words don’t come quick enough from your throat as you scream, “haitham, no! you have to get away—”

it’s too late. you can hear him let out a strangled groan of pain, clutching his arm as his sword instantly falls to the floor, a gash already decorating his skin from a stinger he didn’t manage to dodge. before you can even think, you grab your weapon and run, leaping between al-haitham and the scorpion and landing another perfect blow to its head—just before that giant, deadly-looking stinger on its tail can plunge into him.

it goes limp, falling to the floor with a thud, the glow of its body dimming instantly.

“fuck,” he curses—al-haitham rarely curses. this is not a light sting. “since when do they do that?”

“since forever,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of his cape to press on his wound and stop the blood flow, “maybe if you’d just listened to me and read the attack patterns with me, you’d have known that.”

“i’ve fought these plenty of times,” he says indignantly, teeth still grit in pain, “they never do that.”

“maybe if you weren’t such a know it all,” you grumble—but then you gently reach over, cupping his cheek as you trace a thumb over the skin comfortingly, “is it too bad?” you ask, concern evident enough in your tone that he feels slightly bad.

al-haitham shakes his head, sighing quietly as you kiss his jaw. “i’ll be fine. i’ll just patch it up before we camp for the night.”

“are you sure? maybe we should—”

“it’ll be fine,” he hums, “their venom isn’t deadly anyway.”

—————

you and al-haitham manage to make it to the ruins by nightfall. somehow, miraculously, the two of you are able to trek towards the pyramid and seek shelter indoors for the night, right before it gets too dark and too cold.

al-haitham seems to act stranger and stranger as time goes on, quietly sitting in a corner against the wall and patching his arm up himself as you set up the fire by the tent. you look over at him and watch as he shudders and groans lightly.

“are you sure you’re alright?” you ask in concern, walking over and sitting as you curl up next to him, raising a brow as his body seems to stiffen at your touch, “baby, you seem…”

“i’m fine,” he says curtly.

you don’t seem to be convinced, furrowing your brows before pressing a palm to his forehead—hot. incredibly and unnaturally hot skin that’s flushed a shade of crimson you hardly see on al-haitham, even when you tease him in that cheeky, flirty little way of yours that dusts blush over his face every time.

“haitham,” you gasp, hand brushing back his bangs to feel more of his skin—it’s only then, do you realize just how sweaty his skin seems to be, too. “you’re burning up!”

“i’m okay—”

“maybe you should take your shirt off,” you say quickly, wiping the sweat from his forehead as you sit up straight, “it’s just the two of us here, anyway. it’ll be fine—”

“no,” he grits, voice strangled, “i’m—hah” he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, “—i’m okay. just leave me alone, please. i’ll just go walk it off in a bit.”

he’s panting. you can hear the way his voice is strained and the way his chest rises and falls rather rapidly. you should check the book again, just to see if there’s anything about the side effects in the event you do happen to get stung.

“hmm, the textbook says—”

“do not read the textbook,” he practically begs.

you do anyway. “possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea,” you start, glancing up at him and eyeing his patched arm, “well, there was some swelling. are you nauseous?”

“no,” he almost wheezes out.

“let’s see, and it also says it can cause—oh.”

possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea—you pause and swallow thickly as you read over the final part—and mild sexual arousal. sexual arousal. well, that would explain the heated and flushed skin, you suppose. and the sweat. you glance up at al-haitham—he does anything but meet your eyes.

“i told you,” he says stiffly, muffling a groan as he crosses his arms and hunches forward, “i’ll be fine—”

“baby,” you hum, chuckling slightly as you run a hand through his hair—he gulps, still avoiding your gaze, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“don’t,” he warns, jaw clenching as he looks up and stares at you with that same look of hunger you’ve seen so many times before. it’s clear al-haitham is trying to fight off whatever he’s feeling—but the reality is clear.

he’s very quickly losing himself to his desires.

“but it’s just us in here,” you insist, hand trailing down his chest slowly before settling on his thigh. his breath hitches, following your hand with his eyes as it rubs along slowly and moves closer and closer inwards. “these ruins have been abandoned for who knows how long—and we’re the only ones from the akademiya cleared to explore them.”

“don’t,” he says again—there’s a warning tone to his voice this time, slightly more raspy and entirely more breathless, “if…if i start, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop.”

“oh, but haitham,” you pout, slinging a leg over his waist and seating yourself on his lap. you stare down at his crotch—wet. there’s a very noticeable wet patch over the bulge in his pants. you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. “who says i’d want you to stop?”

“love, i’m serious,” he closes his eyes and swallows, panting as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple, “you should sleep. i’ll be okay—o-oh, fuck,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, hissing as you reach past his waistband and free his strained cock from the confinements.

it’s thick, his erection—probably far more swollen than you’ve ever seen it before. it almost looks painful, with how red it is at the tip, with how it twitches from nothing else but the cool air hitting the heated skin. you think it might just be aching, in fact, from how he whimpers as you wrap a hand around it, just barely squeezing, just barely applying pressure to really relieve anything.

“hmm,” you look down, inspecting, “seems sensitive.” you give it a slow, experimental stroke, instantly making him groan loudly as his head falls back, a stream of pre cum leaking from the tip enough to coat his already slick cock.

“fuck, fuck—more,” he rasps, hand grabbing your thigh and squeezing hard to ground himself.

“okay,” you murmur, nodding to yourself, “very sensitive. guess we’ll just have to get this out of your system.”

you drag your hand over his length, slow at first, before building up a quick, steady rhythm—just the way he’s always liked it. you lean in, kissing along his jaw as he writhes under you while you squeeze around the base of his cock, rolling your palm over his tip before repeating the motion over and over and over again.

his mouth is parted, low groans and the occasional soft whine fall past his lips, making the ache between your own legs worsen as you watch him fall apart. there’s a dull throb in your core, and you can feel the fabric of your underwear dampen, but all you’re worried about for now is the man before you. any other time, you’d think it’s a bit shameless, doing something so dirty, so filthy, so inappropriate in the middle of the desert like this–especially while on a research expedition, no less. but you couldn’t just leave your boyfriend to suffer like this, could you? what kind of girlfriend would you be then? and you’re not so cruel as to leave al-haitham to suffer like this all night, or longer, even—who knows how long before the side effects wear off? it’s the wisest choice to just help him, to take care of him like he always takes care of you.

that’s right, you think to yourself—you’re helping him like any doting lover would. you’re not at all interested by this predicament of his…or aroused, for that matter. no, you’re simply worried for him, and it’s up to you to relieve him of the painfully frustrating tension he must be suffering through after he so graciously fought to protect you from the dangers of the desert.

“jus’ like that,” he gasps as you touch him, chest still rising and falling as quickly as before—his shirt is damp too, a noticeable wet patch forming over most of it as the sweat collects on the fabric, “d-don’t stop—fuck, feels so good.”

“c’mon, haitham,” you murmur, taking your other hand to tug at the end of his shirt, “take this off—i told you, you’ll feel better.”

he listens—whatever is in that venom must be something strong because al-haitham is the most stubborn individual you’ve ever met. under normal circumstances, he’d refuse to take his shirt off even if, deep down, he knew himself it’d help. but right now, he quickly reaches at the hem before pulling it off, tossing it to the side as his bare chest is exposed for you to admire. his usual pale skin is flushed, a soft pink that glistens from the sweat that he can’t seem to get rid of, even as you work his swollen cock with your fist.

it’s pretty, the way he sounds, the way he looks. you run a thumb over his slit, and he whimpers. not too often of times have you heard al-haitham whimper—but today, he seems to have lost any and all control, too busy thrusting his hips up to meet your strokes as he moans lowly.

“when’d you start to feel it?” you ask curiously, pecking his forehead as you leave scattered kisses along his face, “how long have you been trying to play it off?”

“s-since…” he starts, but he trails off as your thumb traces over a thick being along the underside of his length, letting out a soft whine at the feeling before bucking his hip into your hand more desperately. you don’t think you’ve ever seen al-haitham so worked up—so needy and riled up and painfully fucked out before he’s even cum yet. “since i f-first got stung,” he admits through labored breaths, “just got worse slowly.”

“you should’ve told me,” you coo, “not like i don’t see you like this anyway. poor thing,” you pout softly, eyeing the way his cock twitches in your hand, more beads of pre cum oozing from the tip and leaving a stream down his length, “looks like it hurts.”

“it does,” he rasps, “feels…feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“don’t worry,” you hum, squeezing tighter around him, working him quicker as your hand jerks his aching cock off with a tight fist, “i’ll help you cum. ‘s what you deserve for fighting that thing for me. my strong baby.”

“c-close,” he says through a cracked voice, like the praise is enough to send him hurtling over the edge, “‘m so close—sh-shit.”

“yeah?” you ask sweetly, pecking his forehead, “then cum, baby. think you’ll feel much better.”

you roll a thumb over his nipple, hard under the pad of your thumb, and enough to make him gasp loudly before he lets out a deep grunt, cum spilling from his sensitive tip. it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him—thick, endless ropes of hot, sticky cum coating your hand and his abs as you pump his cock through his orgasm. you’re glad you made him take his shirt off—this would’ve been an even more unpleasant trip if he’d had to walk around in a soiled shirt.

“fuck, f-fuck—so g-good,” he stutters, his head thrown back against the wall that supports his body, legs spreading apart to give you better access to working his cock through his high. one hand reaches to play with his balls as you milk his cock, squeezing as you stroke upwards and watch every thick drop of cum shoot past his tip.

it feels like forever, his orgasm. it’s long, and his voice is strained from calling your name over and over by the time he’s finished—but he’s still just as hard as before. no—in fact, you think he might be even harder.

“well…” you start, staring at his erection as it rests against his sculpted abs, “i don’t think that did much.”

“no,” he pants, staring at you through lust-hazed eyes, “it didn’t. but i have an idea that might help, though.”

“yeah? what is it, oh wise grand sage?”

al-haitham, for the first time ever, doesn’t correct you that he’s the acting grand sage. instead, he lifts you up slightly and pulls your pants down to pool at your ankles before lining your dripping cunt over his cock. you bite your lip, moving to ever so slightly drag his tip along your clit, making the both of you shiver with a desperate gasp at the ghost friction.

“i think,” he starts, finger circling your clit slowly as you whine before letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, “that perhaps fucking you might be the only way to get this out of my system. what do you say?”

“haitham, please,” you whine, fingers digging into his shoulders as you clutch onto him, “need you.”

“yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly, replacing his finger and teasing your folds with the tip of his cock, coating the head with the slick of your pussy as you quiver over him, “need me, huh? i thought i was the one who got stung. shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

you would scoff if you weren’t aching to feel the burning stretch of him intruding your neglected cunt—al-haitham always finds a way to be himself at the end of the day. always so frustratingly confident and painfully good at teasing.

“fuck me, haitham,” you plead, pushing your hips down until the first few inches of his length push past your entrance, dragging his tip along your folds and pulling a whine from you as he chokes on a low groan.

“f-fuck,” he grunts, “so tight—a-always so tight.”

his hands grasp at your hips, slowly guiding you to sink all the way down on his cock, taking it inch by inch until he’s buried all the way, his tip nudging perfectly against that sensitive spot in the back of your walls. al-haitham feels like he’s been made just for you like that—fitting you perfectly enough that he hits all the right spots without even trying, without even having to angle his hips in order to give you what you need from him.

you feel sweat collect on your own forehead, mirroring the same glistening of his own skin as you bite your lip and whimper out a pathetic, “h-haitham, more—please.”

“it’s a good thing i brought you with me,” he pants as he snaps his hips up, his hands still guiding your hips to bounce on his cock as you pull up before slamming back down, your walls hugging his thick girth tightly while his fat tip presses against your sweet spot. “imagine where i’d be if you weren’t here. j-jus’ wouldn’t feel the same if i was fucking my fist instead of this sweet cunt.”

the stretch is too good—the way he splits you open as he bullies into your pussy, pushing past your folds and dragging his thick veins along your walls, makes your head spin, pleasure burning up your nerves and spreading across your entire body. your lips attach themselves to his neck, kissing and sucking along the skin as he groans and tightens his bruising grip on your hips.

“b-baby—fuck, ‘s so good,” you mewl, “h-haitham—oh.”

“take me so well,” he says breathlessly, face falling slack as your walls flutter around his length and relieve the ache that was all too overwhelming just a few moments ago—being buried into your pussy is enough to turn the tight grit of his jaw into a loose, parted lips as he moans your name. “taking it so well, like the good girl you are. you—ngh, fuck—you want to make me feel better, don’t you?”

“i do,” you nod, sobbing as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles into the delicate bundle of nerves, “i do, i do—please, haitham. faster, need more.”

“yeah?” he lets out a strangled chuckle, biting his lip and groaning as you snap your hips down particularly rough, squeezing around him tightly, “you need more? i’d almost say you were stung instead of me.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving angry, red marks in their wake as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. you slam down on him with every roll of your hips, his own meeting you halfway as he bucks up, fucking into you—you can feel it, the impending high that you reach closer and closer to, every circle of his thumb on your clit and every brush of his cock against your walls bringing you close to falling off the edge.

“‘m…g-gonna cum, haitham—fuck, a-almost there, baby,” you pant, mewling as you throw your head back while he leans in to kiss your neck, biting hard enough that you almost wonder if there’s blood.

“me too,” he groans, “you…you’re so perfect,” you feel his head bury into your shoulder, his forehead digging into your shoulder as you cradle the back of his head with a hand and whine, “i’m bringing you to every trip—fuck you in every ruin i explore. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“yes, yes—please,” you babble, nodding as your back arches before you feel the coil snap—you gasp his name, a repeat of haitham, haitham, haitham, falling from your lips as he fucks into you through your high. the spasm of your walls around him sends him hurtling into his second orgasm—even more earth-shattering than the first.

“that’s it,” he moans, his voice deep and raspy as it cracks in the middle, “can’t even be mad i got stung—not when you let me fuck you l-like this. so…feels so good—’m c-cumming.”

it’s not the first time al-haitham has cum in you—but it’s never felt like this before. it’s hot, his cum—it spills into you and coats your walls in a sticky mess that forms a ring at the base of his cock as it pumps into you. the mess of his release and your arousal coats both of your thighs, leaking from your abused cunt and smearing along your skin. you can feel him twitch with every rope, can feel the way he throbs as he spills into you and paints your walls white with his release. it’s desperate—needy and so, so filthy, just like the sounds he makes into your ear, breathless pants that make your stomach do flips as you listen to him fall apart and break.

he slumps as he finishes, your body falling against him as you both pant harshly and catch your breaths. he kisses your neck delicately as you stroke his hair, admiring his spent form under you.

“as much as i hate that you got stung,” you mumble, “this…this might not have been the worst thing.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, looking up and raising a brow—it’s only then that you feel it, the twitch of his still hard cock, still buried deep in your abused cunt, “are you sure? because we aren’t nearly finished yet—i really hope you’re prepared to take it.”

the textbook may have lied, you think—this is not mild at all. this might delay your trip quite a bit.

i would go with him hoping he gets stung every time so i could suck the soul out of him tbh

#🎃 — kinkteeber !!#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you #thirstee!#teepods.writings #fics.

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softbeej · 2 months

Note

Hii! Can I request an Alastor smut fic that reader has a praise kink please?

Thank you😭💖

hehe of course!!!! reqs open!!

Good Little Girl (Alastor x Reader)

You didn’t expect things to go this way when you woke up this morning. Alastor woke you up too early, perching himself beside you on your bed, a mug of steaming hot sweetened tea in hand. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled at him, albeit confused.

“Morning, Alastor.” You said groggily, yawning and sitting up. “Everything okay?”

He handed you the tea, and although you did not appreciate being woken up so early, the tea kind of made up for it.

“Right as rain! I just have one small little favor to ask, but it’s nothing really...”

You nodded, urging him to continue as you sipped the lemon honey tea. Though, you already had an idea what it’d be.

“It’s this paperwork, you see...”

Bingo.

Alastor had a habit of letting paperwork build up until it became unmanageable piles of non discernible pages scattered around the office. He didn’t like doing it, so he never did. Simple as that. Lucky for him, you had a knack of keeping things like this organised and even found monotonous tasks such as this rather therapeutic.

“No problem, Alastor. I’ll do it all today.”

“Oh, thank you my dear! I’m eternally grateful, I’m sure you already know.” He tousled your already messy hair and stood up, whistling on his way out.

You rubbed your eyes before getting comfy again and going back to sleep.

Oh, are there any better feelings than stamping and stapling that last bit of paperwork? You didn’t think so, not after you’d spent the last three hours in the cramped hotel office. All the paperwork (even the pile he’d shoved under the cupboard) had been completed and filed away alphabetically in heavy ring binder folders. You let out a sigh of relief as you tucked it away neatly on the shelf. This was when Alastor sauntered in.

“Oh my! How tidy! My, I can see the carpet again!”

You smiled, “It’s nothing, Al!”

“Thank you, dear! You really are a good little girl after all, hm?”

Oh. What? Oh?!

Your brain couldn’t even comprehend what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything. You just blushed and stuttered as you continued pointing out how the files were organized. This was definitely new. Sure, you’d done favors for Alastor before. He always thanked you, usually by buying you fancy pastries and tea, but never had he called you a good little girl. Your mouth was moving quicker than your brain, finding yourself babbling at the man.

He raised his eyebrows at you.

“What?” You said.

“Oh, nothing...” He replied in an irringtatingly teasing way, “I just felt your heart rate increase, that’s all. I have an inkling you liked something I said a little bit too much...”

You shook your head, “Pfft, no!”

“Interesting... Because I’m not usually wrong. I think you rather liked being called a good girl, don’t you?”

You shook your head again.

He tutted, “Lying isn’t good girl behavior now, is it?”

You gave in, finally.

“No, Alastor. It’s not.”

“And I think you do want to be a good girl, don’t you?” Alastor asked condescendingly, now sat on the desk chair.

“I do...”

“Come on then.” He said very matter-of-factly, and patted his thighs.

You did as told, sitting on his lap with your back pressing up against his chest. He wasted no time in snaking his hands up your skirt and thighs, daringly close to the hem of your panties.

“May I?”

“Yes, please...” You almost whined.

He rubbed you over the panties, “Okay, darling...”

You shivered against him, feeling his claws pushing your panties aside and slowly tease his way inside.

“You’re doing a good job, aren’t you?”

Another weak nod. You craned your neck to nuzzle up into Alastor’s neck, closing your eyes and breathing in his smell; musky and expensive but comforting all the same. You focused on steadying these breaths as he continued to play and toy with you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah...” You mewled out breathlessly.

“Then cum, sweetheart, you’ve been so well behaved, I think you deserve it...”

You twitched around his fingers as you came with angelic squeals. All throughout it he mumbled sweet praises, nipping your ear.

As you caught your breath he held you tightly, almost as if he thought you were about to collapse over him. Maybe you were.

When you found your breathing steadying and heart rate returning back to non-heart attack territory, you turned to see Alastor, that everlasting shit eating grin looking a little more proud than usual, he muttered out, “Seems we’ve both learned something new today, hm?”

#hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin smut #alastor #hazbin x reader

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illya-roma · 5 months

Text

Jazz, holding a mushroom stake she made for damian as gift at gun point: any last words?

Ectocontaminated mushroom stake : you mere mortal can not kill me in a way that matters.

Jazz, cocking the gun: try me

----

Jazz: Here, I made this for you

Tiny damian vibrating with excitement because his favourite chef made more food: Give me!

Jazz raises an eyebrow:...

Damian stops stuffing his mouth: Thank you, Jazlyn.

-----

Jazz, fist fighting a whole undead turkey: And always make sure to wear your gloves, we don't want a speck of ow dirt on it.

The turkey: * curses in turkey*

The chefs who's numbers are dwindling because Thalia hates that their food is not as delicious as the new cook's:

----

Ra's al ghoul forcing a blush down: *slowly takes a bit out of his food*

Ra's: ...

Ra's: DAMMIT Thalia the spaghetti is mine!

Thalia hiding in the walls:

-------

Thalia ogling at the new chefs muscles:

Jazz stabbing a screaming octopus: Hi! Can I help you?

Thaila an assassin, who's sitting on the counter right infront of Jazz, shamelessly staring at her: You could take of your chef jacket. I know blood can be hard to clean.

Jazz breaking it's spine: Good idea!

@phantom00maverick @jackpoompkin

#liminal jazz #jazz naturally filters ectoplasm #the food is not dangerous to humans #just nutritious to less liminal peoples #jazz has the most contamination #everyone else far faaar less than her #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

Summary: Max and Lucas are tired of their friends silently pining over each other but never making a move, so when the Winter Formal rolls around, they take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluffy fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Happy anniversary to the love of my life, @corroded-hellfire 💚 one year ago today, we met in person for the first time, and my life has been infinitely better ever since. Thank you for being my best friend. I love you more than Dustin loves his Weird Al shirt. Red, this fic is for you.

Divider credit to @saradika

“Kill me now.”

Three words uttered by none other than Max Mayfield, sliding her lunch tray onto the table and sitting down with an irritated sigh.

You look at her with an amused grin. “What is it this time? Bombed a pop quiz? Got detention for flipping off a teacher—again?” Her brazen, flippant attitude provided many entertaining moments, so long as you weren’t on the receiving end of it.

Max shakes her head, spearing a limp macaroni noodle with her plastic fork. “I wish.” She holds up two tickets to the Winter Formal. “Lucas is dragging me to this bullshit. ‘All the other basketball guys’ girlfriends are going,’” she mocks him in an octave much lower than his actual voice, “so I guess that means I have to follow suit.”

Bringing a hand to your heart, you jut out your lower lip in mock-pity. “Oh, no; your boyfriend wants to show you off at a school dance! How will you ever survive?”

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “You could go, too,” she says, blue eyes pleading. “Keep me company when the guys inevitably bail to get wasted in the woods.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need a date,” she insists, reading your mind before the words can leave your mouth. “I’m telling you, Lucas is gonna ditch me as soon as Jason and Patrick show up.” She takes your hand between both of hers. “Please? I’ll even tell Ms. Kelly the lengths you went to for your poor, troubled freshie.”

You exhale, knowing that she doesn’t need to go to all of that trouble. You’d started off the school year as her peer mentor, but just a few months later, you two have become close friends. “Fine, I’ll go,” you acquiesce, laughing when she pumps her fists victoriously. “But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

You return to your own lunch, completely missing the mischievous look that graces her freckled face.

Unbeknownst to you, a similar discussion is had at Hellfire Club later that same afternoon.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Nice try, Sinclair, but I wouldn’t be caught dead at some lame dance.”

“Seriously,” Jeff smirks from his position across the table. “He’s never been to a single one in his ten years of high school.”

Eddie flips him off casually. “It’s only six, asshole. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not dressing up in some penguin suit to drink unspiked punch with a bunch of shitty people.”

“C’mon, dude,” Lucas says, his tone bordering on a whine. “If you don’t go, I’m gonna be stuck with the jocks all night, and they just wanna suck face with their girlfriends.”

“And you don’t?” Gareth quips.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Not in front of everyone. And I don’t need a front-row seat to their performances, either.” He turns his attention back to the Dungeon Master. “Look, I’m desperate. Mike’ll be visiting his grandma and Dustin’s grounded because of his D-plus in Spanish.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “What about Huey, Dewey, and Louie over here?” he asks, gesturing to the three remaining club members.

Their collective responses are jumbled excuses; Eddie swears one of them says he’s going kayaking—in mid-December in Indiana—but he doesn’t bother to sift through their lies. “You owe me, Sinclair,” he declares, pointing his forefinger at the underclassman. “Big time.”

The next few weeks leading up to the Winter Formal are spent meticulously making plans. For someone who seemed so disinterested in this dance, Max is paying careful attention to each detail.

You walk out of the dressing room in a velvet emerald green dress that hits just above the knee. Max is beaming as she adjusts the off-the-shoulder sleeves and smooths down any creases.

“You look really nice,” she says, nodding her head. She’s trying to temper her enthusiasm, but you can sense her excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Lucas.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lucas? Why would he care?” He’s a nice kid—more in tune with emotions than the average fourteen-year-old boy—but that doesn’t constitute an interest in your fashion choices.

Max’s cheeks burn as red as her hair. “Uh, well, seeing you happy makes me happy, and seeing me happy makes him happy, so…everyone’s happy?” she finishes lamely. She clears her throat as if expelling the awkwardness from the conversation. “Anyway, let’s buy this dress so we can look for shoes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You’re not fully convinced, but you brush it off and steel your nerves to ask a question. “Is anyone else gonna be there that we know?” You really want to know whether Eddie Munson is going to be there, but you can’t say the quiet part aloud.

“Probably,” she shrugs, a bit too quickly, but she’s pushing you back behind the curtain to change before you can inquire more.

“Why does this stupid tie need to be green?” Eddie asks, sifting through the store’s selection with Lucas by his side.

“Uh, Christmas colors,” Lucas stammers, fumbling for a decent explanation other than the contents of his secret phone call with Max earlier today. “And, y’know, red is way overdone, so…” he trails off lamely, going back to the display table and hoping Eddie drops the matter.

They find exactly what they’re looking for—not without Eddie complaining about putting in too much effort just to be a third wheel—and make their way over to the food court. Eddie makes a beeline for the Pizza Hut when he stops dead in his tracks. “Shit, Sinclair; we gotta go,” he says urgently, clapping a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and steering him away from the fast food.

“What the hell? I’m hungry!”

Eddie shakes his head, curls brushing against his shoulders. “Look, man.” He discreetly points to his left, where you and Max are giggling at the Orange Julius. “We can’t let them see us.”

“Dude, she’s like the nicest person ever,” Lucas rebuts. “Even Max likes her, and Max pretty much hates everyone.”

“That’s not the problem.” Eddie rakes his ringed fingers through his hair, wincing when he snags one on a knot. “The problem is that she’s gonna be all, ‘hi, Eddie; what’re you doing at the mall?’ And I’m gonna be all, ‘just picking out a tie for the Winter Formal.” And then she’ll go, ‘oh, who’s your date?” And then I’ll have to say, ‘I don’t have one; I’m just playing babysitter to some freshmen like a goddamn loser!” He hops back and forth to indicate each character change.

“First of all, ouch,” Lucas quips, “second, go hide in the bathroom if you want, but I’m getting something to eat.”

Eddie exhales an exasperated sigh, giving in and schlepping over to Pizza Hut, one of the few times in his life that he’s trying to be inconspicuous.

You pull into the school parking lot on the night of the Winter Formal and shift into park before killing the engine. Max is bouncing her leg up and down in the passenger seat, lower lip tucked between her teeth.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, mistaking her excitement for anxiety. “You know that Lucas would think you look beautiful even if you showed up in a potato sack.” You furrow your brow. “Where is he, anyway? Why didn’t he come with us?”

She mumbles something about not wanting her mom to ask any questions about the relationship, and you take them at face value. Her eyes light up when she spots her boyfriend walking into the school alongside…Eddie Munson?

“Eddie’s here?” you ask in a hushed whisper, feeling sweat prickling under your arms. You’ve been nursing a massive crush on him for ages–one that Max is very much aware of. And now he’s here, dressed in a black suit with his hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. “Max, why didn’t you tell me? Who’s he going with?” The idea of him slow dancing with someone else has your stomach turning.

Max just shrugs. “I don’t think he had a date.” Too casual, too blasé–she knows something. “C’mon, let’s go in.” She swings the car door open enthusiastically, leaving you shell-shocked in your seat.

“Maxine Mayfield!” you hiss, using her full government name to drive home your bewilderment, but she just skips ahead. Damn your heeled shoes, slowing you down before you can catch up to her. When you finally do, she just grabs your hand and tugs you towards the guys.

She poorly feigns surprise, jaw dropping as she exclaims, “Eddie? What are you doing here? Oh, my gosh, this is such a coincidence!” She pulls you closer, smiling far too wide. “Lucas and I both brought our upperclassmen friends! What are the odds?”

“Yeah, so weird,” Lucas says, not as loud as Max but just as transparent. He looks at Max before regarding you and Eddie. “Okay, well, we’re gonna go dance–bye!” The two of them scamper off, leaving you alone with Eddie. If their stilted dialogue wasn’t evidence enough, the way Eddie’s tie perfectly matches your dress certainly clears up their intentions.

Eddie speaks first, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and nervously swiveling his body. “I, uh, think we’ve been set up,” he says with a small, awkward chuckle. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea. Not–not that it’s a bad thing, I just meant, like, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I don’t wanna be held responsible.” His cheeks burn red. “Shit, I need to stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with your own kind laugh, “we might as well make the most of it. Get some punch and make fools of ourselves out there?” You gesture towards the gym’s makeshift dance floor; the band has just started playing Journey’s “Faithfully.” Eddie’s nods, following you to an empty space, and you timidly drape your arms over his shoulders. Taking care to avoid an inappropriate touch, he rests his palms on the small of your back.

His voice is low when he murmurs in your ear, “you look really beautiful tonight.” He clears his throat and speaks again. “You always look really beautiful, though.”

The two of you sway to the music, swapping shy smiles and fleeting but longing glances. As the song ends, you look over your shoulder. “We’re being spied on,” you report, noting the way the two younger kids are watching you from across the room. You consider your next words before eventually deciding to go for it: “Did you talk to Lucas about me as much as I talked to Max about you?”

“Probably more,” Eddie laughs, bringing you a bit closer. “But I’m interested in comparing notes.”

You nod, staving off any lingering nerves. “Maybe after the dance, we can split a burger from Benny’s and discuss?”

Eddie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he says; you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I’d like that.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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orikiys · 5 months

Text

✿ ✿ 〞 domestic acts of love with skz

✰ pairings : ot8!skz x fem!reader

✰ genre: romance, fluff

✰ warnings: mentions of kissing, fluff, lemme know if there’s any!

✰ word count: 1.3k + words

౨₊ৎ chan — always makes sure your seatbelt is put on right

lately you’ve begun noticing the not-so-little gestures he does. the two of you would be randomly singing songs when you would feel him lean in and adjust your seat belt. this has happened not once, not thrice but on a daily basis. it’s his way of saying that you’re one of the most important persons in his life. it might also be the way he is constantly worried and can’t stop himself to check on you even when he’s the one that dropped you of. it’s sweet. it’s also heart fluttering. one might think that he’s going to stop at some point, but instead the list of these little gestures keeps increasing. just like his love for you.

౨₊ৎ minho — sitting on his lap

you would just be standing in front of him and he would swiftly grab you by the waist before making you sit on his lap. be it a bad day, a good day, a could be better day, this man won’t hesitate to not make you sit on his lap. he loves it when you sit on his lap especially when he’s watching tv or when he’s playing on his pc. he finds that with you by his side, days seem to be a lot more merrier. he loves to give you kisses on your shoulder as he watches the tv. he would absentmindedly trace his fingers on your lower back and mutter sweet things to you. he takes pride over the faint touch of red that spreads over your cheeks and your little giggles when he accidentally tickles you. he finds it all too adoring. you, your laugh and that stupid little grin on his face that spreads every time you’re on his lap.

౨₊ৎ changbin — puts your hand in his pocket when it’s cold

changbin loves the way your soft and tiny hands feel against him. he often grabs your hand randomly and brushes his thumb against yours, tracing shapes and leaning down to give soft kisses on your knuckles. he would stare at your hand intertwined with his and smile to himself every time he gets reminded of the fact that you chose him. when the temperature would suddenly drop he would immediately grab your freezing cold hands and put it the pocket of his puffed jacket. he knows that you catch cold pretty easily, which is why health is a priority. he would rub his hands around yours or blow into them in hopes he’s doing a good job al making you feel warmer. he would tuck you with blankets, ensuring that no cold enters and would even often to stay up for a while just to make sure you don’t catch a cold. changbin also loves the way you link your pinky finger with his while walking or when you would compare hand sizes with him. it’s cute, he thinks. it’s an amazing feeling, he thinks. it’s the sigh of love, he knows it very well thanks to you.

౨₊ৎ hyunjin — opening car doors for you

be it the way he started it after seeing a video online or the way he finds that the most precious part of your dates with him is when he would open the door for you. there’s a shy smile on his face everytime he does it. hyunjin would make sure that if you’re wearing a long dress, the fabric doesn’t get stuck when he closes the door. at times when you are tired after a long day, he would carry you in his arms, slowly and carefully lifting you out of the car and making his way to your home. it’s also the way that he would open not only the car doors, but also doors of restaurants, stores or anywhere in general. he truly believes in the phrase ‘ladies first’. there’s a teasing smile on your face each time he does it just like an inside joke. it’s funny how he would low-key be embarrassed when he’s around his friends and he opens the door for you out of habit. he knows very well that he’s going to be teased, but what matters is that the habit should not be abandoned.

౨₊ৎ han — lends you his clothes ( very ) often

jisung once found out that you love wearing his clothes as much as he loves seeing you in them. from that day onwards he would purposely leave a few hoodies at your place knowing very well that you would wear it more than once. but he would feel disheartened when you return his clothes, washed and clean. with no scent of yours. he would keep more clothes at your place and the cycle continues until you finally expose him. with an embarrassed smile, he would cover his face and mumble how he likes your lingering scent on his clothes. and so the pact started. he would lend you his clothes and in return you would give him your perfume so he could spray it on his pillow covers just to make it smell like you. so that it reminds him of you, every time he goes to sleep.

౨₊ৎ felix — bakes for you

felix is like your personal mood detector. he knows when you’re feeling like not doing anything, he knows when your mind is elsewhere, he knows the way you bite your lower lip when you feel sad, he knows it all. which is why he tries his best to make you smile, sincerely. he would ( not so ) secretly bake brownies early in the morning and even though you heard the ding of the oven, you would play pretend. other times you would just stare at him baking and admire his features along with his own little masterchef series where he pretend to be the chef and tell you the ingredients and walk you through the recipe. but most importantly, he would eagerly watch your expression as you bite into the brownie. and of course, it turns out great! he couldn’t have been happier upon seeing you dig in impatiently. it’s like all his hard work really did pay off.

౨₊ৎ seungmin — doesn’t leave or let you go out without a peck

it’s no longer a secret to you no matter how he tries to hide the way his nose would scrunch up in disappointment every time you forget to give him a kiss. making it a mental reminder you would instantly rush back to him, grabbing him by his collar and pressing your lips against his before hurrying out. you know the soft smile that’s on his face everytime he gazes into yours for a couple of seconds before pecking your lips. it’s like a good luck charm. and when something bad did happen throughout his day, he would blame that the kiss ended earlier. it’s silly how this one habit of his has stuck along from the first few months into your relationship to now. it’s like a special way of saying bye to him. even when the two of you needed to head somewhere or go on solo trips, kisses would still apply! it’s a priority and. the proper way into kim seungmin’ heart.

౨₊ৎ jeongin — gives you hand-written letters

it started with the way he confessed, like a high-school sweetheart you got letters in the mail, outside your apartment, in little bouquets, around the house and most frequently, handed personally to you. you wouldn’t even think of complaining as you would be lying if you said the letters didn’t make your heart flutter. it was a feeling and you could see the amount of dedication and love that he put into each one of them. you kept each one of them, carefully wrapped up in a box and re-read them whenever you felt like it. it was not often that you didn’t receive his letters, so you grew worried when you didn’t receive letters for a week just for him to come to your house and give it to you. ever since, the two of you were inseparable.

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