#it's possible to draw the connection as is

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 20: Hidden Pages

The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows through the trees as you and Yeosang made your way down a narrow side street in one of Seoul's older districts. The buildings here were different from the gleaming skyscrapers and modern structures that dominated most of the city—older, with character etched into their weathered facades and stories hidden in their architectural details.

"It's just around this corner," Yeosang said, his voice carrying a note of anticipation that made you smile. You'd never seen him quite this animated before, his usual quiet composure brightened by genuine excitement about sharing this special place with you.

As you rounded the corner, he gestured toward a narrow building squeezed between a traditional tea shop and a small art gallery. The bookstore's exterior was understated—a simple wooden door with glass panels, a modest sign in both Korean and English that read "Hidden Pages," and large windows that offered glimpses of towering bookshelves within.

"This is it," Yeosang said, pausing at the entrance. "It doesn't look like much from the outside, but..."

"But the best treasures are often hidden in plain sight," you finished, looking up at him with warm eyes. "Just like some people I know."

The compliment made color rise to his cheeks, and he ducked his head slightly before pushing open the door for you. A soft bell chimed as you entered, and immediately you understood why this place was special to him.

The interior was a book lovers dream—floor to ceiling shelves packed with books in multiple languages, cozy reading nooks tucked into corners, and that distinctive smell of aged paper and ink that seemed to permeate everything. Soft classical music played from hidden speakers, and warm light from vintage lamps created an atmosphere that felt more like a private library than a commercial bookstore.

"Welcome back, Yeosang," came a gentle voice from behind the main counter. An elderly man with kind eyes and wire-rimmed glasses looked up from the book he'd been cataloging. "And you've brought a friend."

"Mr. Park, this is Y/n," Yeosang said, his hand finding the small of your back as he guided you forward. "Y/n, this is Mr. Park, the owner. He knows more about books than anyone I've ever met."

"A pleasure to meet you," Mr. Park said with a warm smile. "Any friend of Yeosang's is welcome here. He's one of our most valued customers—always finding treasures that others overlook."

"I can see why he loves this place," you replied, already enchanted by the atmosphere. "It feels magical."

"Books have a way of creating magic," Mr. Park agreed. "Please, explore as much as you'd like. The poetry section is upstairs, along with the café. And Yeosang knows where to find all the hidden gems."

As Mr. Park returned to his cataloging, Yeosang turned to you with an expression that was both proud and slightly nervous. "Where would you like to start?"

"Show me your favorite section first," you suggested. "I want to see what draws you here."

Yeosang's face lit up as he led you deeper into the store, past sections of contemporary fiction and bestsellers, toward a quieter area in the back where the shelves held older, more eclectic collections.

"Philosophy and poetry," he explained, gesturing to the carefully organized shelves. "But also some rare editions and first prints. Mr. Park has a talent for acquiring books that you can't find anywhere else."

You watched as he moved through the stacks with the easy familiarity of someone who'd spent countless hours here. His fingers trailed along the spines of books with gentle reverence, and you found yourself captivated by this side of him—passionate, knowledgeable, completely in his element.

"This one," he said, pulling a slim volume from the shelf, "is a collection of translated Korean poetry from the early 1900s. The translation work is incredible—it manages to preserve the emotional resonance of the original while making it accessible to English readers."

He opened the book to a page he'd clearly marked before, his voice taking on a different quality as he read a few lines aloud. The words were beautiful, but it was the way he spoke them—with such care and understanding—that made your heart flutter.

"That's beautiful," you said softly when he finished. "You have a lovely reading voice."

"I used to read to my sister when we were younger," he admitted, closing the book but keeping it in his hands. "She said poetry sounded better when I read it aloud."

The small personal revelation made you want to know more about his family, his childhood, all the experiences that had shaped the thoughtful man beside you. But before you could ask, he was already moving to another section, eager to show you more treasures.

"And this," he said, reaching for a higher shelf, "is a first edition of—"

His words cut off as he stretched upward, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a strip of toned stomach. You found your eyes drawn to the lean muscle there, the way his body moved with unconscious grace. When he noticed you looking, a different kind of heat entered his gaze.

"Sorry," you said, not sounding sorry at all. "You're just... very nice to look at."

"Y/n," he said quietly, your name carrying a warmth that made your pulse quicken.

"What? I'm just appreciating the view while you reach for books. It's called multitasking."

Yeosang laughed, a genuine sound of delight that transformed his entire face. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Among other things," you replied with a playful smile, stepping closer to him. "But please, continue. I'm very interested in... rare books."

The way you said it, with that slight emphasis and the mischievous glint in your eyes, made his breathing catch. There was definitely a new energy building between you, something flirtatious and charged that made the quiet bookstore feel intimate and full of possibility.

"Well," he said, his voice dropping slightly as he pulled the book from the shelf, "this particular volume is quite... special. It requires very careful handling."

"I can be very careful," you assured him, moving close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "When something is worth taking care of."

Yeosang's eyes darkened as he caught your meaning, the book momentarily forgotten in his hands. "Are we still talking about books?"

"Are we?" you countered, looking up at him through your lashes.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you crackling with tension and possibility. Then Yeosang cleared his throat softly, glancing around the store.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice slightly rougher than usual, "we should continue exploring. There's so much more I want to show you."

"Lead the way," you replied, though you made sure to brush against him as you moved, enjoying the way his breath hitched at the contact.

The next hour passed in a delightful haze of literary discovery and increasingly bold flirtation. Yeosang showed you rare manuscripts, beautiful art books, and hidden alcoves filled with volumes on obscure subjects. You found yourself drawn not just to the books, but to watching him—the way his eyes lit up when he found something particularly interesting, the gentle way he handled even the most worn volumes, the quiet passion in his voice when he explained why a particular work was significant.

And he seemed equally captivated by you—your genuine interest in his explanations, your thoughtful questions, the way you laughed at his dry observations about some of the more pretentious literary critics whose works lined the shelves.

"You know," you said as you browsed through a section of vintage travel guides, "I never expected to find book shopping this... stimulating."

Yeosang, who had been reaching for a volume on the top shelf, paused and looked down at you with raised eyebrows. "Stimulating?"

"Intellectually stimulating," you clarified with mock innocence, though your smile suggested otherwise. "All this talk of rare bindings and... careful handling. It's very educational."

"I see," he said, climbing down from the small step stool he'd been using. "And here I thought you were just being a diligent student."

"Oh, I'm very diligent," you assured him, stepping closer as he descended. "I always pay close attention to my teachers."

The way you said 'teachers' made his eyes flash with something that was definitely not scholarly, and you found yourself backed against the bookshelf as he moved closer.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "And what have you learned so far?"

"That you have excellent taste," you replied, your voice equally quiet. "In books and... other things."

"Other things?"

"Places," you said, gesturing around the intimate bookstore. "Atmosphere. The way you choose to spend your time with someone special."

Yeosang's hand came up to rest against the shelf beside your head, his body creating a small cocoon of privacy around you. "Someone special?"

"Very special," you confirmed, looking up into his dark eyes.

The moment stretched between you, charged with possibility. You were acutely aware of how close he was, the way his scent—clean and warm with hints of bergamot—surrounded you. His eyes dropped to your lips for just a moment before returning to meet your gaze.

"The café upstairs," he said softly. "Would you like to see it?"

"I'd like to see everything you want to show me," you replied, the words carrying layers of meaning.

Yeosang's smile was soft but held an edge of something more intense. "Then let's go up."

The narrow staircase to the second floor was tucked away in the back corner of the store, barely wide enough for two people. As you climbed ahead of Yeosang, you could feel his presence close behind you, the warmth of his body and the way his breathing had become slightly uneven.

The upstairs café was even more intimate than the bookstore below—small round tables scattered among more bookshelves, soft lighting from table lamps, and large windows that looked out over the quiet street. Only a few other patrons were present, all absorbed in their own books and conversations.

"Corner table?" Yeosang suggested, nodding toward a small table tucked between two tall bookshelves that would offer relative privacy.

"Perfect," you agreed, following him to the secluded spot.

As you settled into the comfortable chairs, Yeosang caught the attention of the café server and ordered tea for both of you—something called "poet's blend" that he assured you was exceptional. When you were alone again, the atmosphere felt different. More intimate, more charged with possibility.

"This place is incredible," you said, looking around at the combination café and library. "I can see why you love it here."

"It's peaceful," Yeosang agreed. "A place where you can think, or read, or just... exist without the noise of the outside world."

"Is that what you do here? Just exist?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "When the schedules get overwhelming, or when I need to process something complex. I come here and let the quiet settle into my mind."

You reached across the small table and took his hand, enjoying the way his fingers immediately intertwined with yours. "Thank you for sharing it with me. For letting me into this part of your world."

"Thank you for wanting to see it," he replied, his thumb tracing gentle circles across your knuckles. "I wasn't sure if you'd find it interesting."

"Yeosang," you said seriously, "watching you talk about something you're passionate about is one of the most attractive things I've ever experienced. The way your whole face lights up, the way you handle the books like they're treasures... it's beautiful."

Color rose to his cheeks again, but he didn't look away. "You make me feel like the things I care about matter."

"They do matter. You matter."

The server arrived with your tea, providing a brief interruption to the intensity building between you. But as soon as you were alone again, the charged atmosphere returned.

"This is delicious," you said after taking a sip of the aromatic blend. "Complex. Layered."

"Like you," Yeosang said quietly, his eyes holding yours over the rim of his teacup.

The simple compliment sent warmth spreading through your chest. "Is that your professional opinion, Professor Kang?"

"My very professional opinion," he confirmed with a slight smile. "Though I may need to conduct further research to be completely certain."

"Research?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of research?"

"Extensive research," he said, his voice dropping to that low register that made your pulse quicken. "Thorough investigation. Very... hands-on methodology."

The academic language delivered with such obvious double meaning made you laugh, but it was breathless laughter that carried heat. "I do appreciate thorough research methods."

"I thought you might," he said, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "I'm very dedicated to my research."

"How dedicated?" you asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I believe in exploring every possible angle," he replied, his own body language mirroring yours as he leaned closer across the small table. "Leaving no stone unturned."

"Very admirable," you breathed, acutely aware of how close your faces were now, how his eyes had darkened with unmistakable desire.

"Y/n," he said softly, your name carrying a question and a promise.

"Yes?"

"I think," he said, his gaze flicking around the café to confirm that your corner table was relatively hidden from view, "that I'd like to begin my research now."

"Here?" you asked, though your tone suggested the idea was more thrilling than shocking.

"Just a preliminary investigation," he assured you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "To determine if further study is warranted."

Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was anything but preliminary.

Yeosang's response was immediate and intense. His hand tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, the careful control he usually maintained slipping away in the face of his desire for you. The small table between you became an obstacle as you both strained to get closer, the need for contact overwhelming rational thought.

"This table," he murmured against your lips, "is very inconvenient for research purposes."

"Terrible design flaw," you agreed breathlessly, your hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer despite the physical barriers.

Yeosang glanced around quickly, then stood and held out his hand to you. "There's a section in the back," he said quietly, his voice rough with want. "Poetry. Very quiet. Very... private."

Without hesitation, you took his hand and let him lead you away from the table, leaving your tea forgotten as you moved deeper into the maze of bookshelves. The poetry section he mentioned was indeed tucked away in the back corner, surrounded by tall stacks that created a sense of complete seclusion.

The moment you were hidden from view, Yeosang turned and pressed you gently back against the bookshelf, his body caging you in as his mouth found yours again. This kiss was different from the tentative exploration at the table—hungrier, more desperate, full of all the desire that had been building between you throughout the afternoon.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the lean muscle beneath his soft sweater, while his fingers traced along your jawline, your neck, everywhere he could reach. The taste of tea lingered on his lips, mixed with something that was purely him, and you found yourself addicted to the combination.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your mouth, his hands framing your face as if you were something precious and rare. "I've been wanting to touch you like this all afternoon."

"Then don't stop," you breathed back, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him down for another deep kiss.

Time seemed suspended in your hidden alcove among the poetry books. Yeosang's mouth moved against yours with increasing urgency, his careful composure completely abandoned as he lost himself in the taste and feel of you. His hands had found their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him, while yours mapped the strong lines of his shoulders and back.

"Y/n," he gasped against your neck, having moved to trail kisses along the sensitive skin there. "We should... people might..."

"Let them," you replied recklessly, your head tilting back to give him better access. "I don't care."

The declaration seemed to snap something in him. His mouth returned to yours with renewed intensity, and you could feel the full force of his desire in the way he held you, kissed you, breathed your name like a prayer.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your clothes slightly disheveled and your lips swollen from kissing. Yeosang rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

"That was," he started, then seemed to lose track of his words.

"Research?" you suggested with a breathless laugh.

"Very thorough research," he agreed, opening his eyes to meet yours. The heat still burning in his gaze made your pulse quicken all over again. "Though I think I need to collect more data."

"I'm always willing to contribute to scientific advancement," you said solemnly, though your smile was anything but serious.

"Good," he said, leaning down to press one more soft kiss to your lips. "Because I have a feeling this research is going to require multiple sessions."

"I look forward to it," you whispered back.

Reluctantly, you both began the process of making yourselves presentable again—smoothing rumpled clothes, finger-combing disheveled hair, trying to look like you'd been innocently browsing poetry rather than making out among the verses.

"Should we head back downstairs?" Yeosang asked, though he seemed reluctant to leave your private alcove.

"Probably," you agreed, equally reluctant. "Before Mr. Park wonders what happened to us."

As you made your way back through the café and down the narrow staircase, Yeosang's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gesture that felt both intimate and claiming. When you reached the main floor, Mr. Park looked up from his work with a knowing smile.

"Find everything you were looking for?" he asked innocently.

"And more," Yeosang replied, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Thank you for the recommendation on the poetry section. Very... inspiring."

"Poetry has a way of moving people," Mr. Park agreed with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he wasn't entirely naive about what had transpired upstairs. "I hope you'll both come back soon."

"We definitely will," you assured him, meaning every word.

As you and Yeosang stepped back out onto the quiet street, the late afternoon sun painted everything in golden hues. The air felt different somehow—charged with new possibilities and the lingering heat of your encounter among the books.

"So," Yeosang said as you began walking back toward the main road, "how did you find your first visit to Hidden Pages?"

"Educational," you replied with a mischievous smile. "I learned a lot about... poetry."

"Poetry," he repeated with a laugh. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Among other things," you said, echoing your earlier flirtation.

Yeosang stopped walking and turned to face you, his expression serious despite the heat still simmering in his eyes. "Y/n, I want you to know that this—today, sharing this place with you, being with you like this—it means everything to me."

"It means everything to me too," you replied sincerely, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Thank you for trusting me with something so special to you."

"Thank you for making it even more special," he said, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your palm.

As you continued walking, your hands linked and your hearts full, you couldn't help but think that Hidden Pages had given you more than just a glimpse into Yeosang's world—it had given you both a perfect afternoon of discovery, connection, and the kind of romance that belonged in the pages of the poetry books you'd been kissing among.

"Next time," Yeosang said as you reached the main street, "I'll show you the rare manuscripts section."

"Next time," you agreed with a smile that promised more adventures, more discoveries, and definitely more research among the stacks.

–––

The ride back to the house was thick with tension that had nothing to do with Seoul's evening traffic. Yeosang sat in the driver's seat with white-knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel, his usual calm composure nowhere to be found. You could feel his alpha energy radiating from him in waves—controlled but barely, like a carefully banked fire that was threatening to break free at any moment.

Every time you shifted in your seat, his eyes would flick to you and then quickly back to the road, his jaw clenching with visible effort. The afternoon at the bookstore had awakened something in both of you, and the confined space of the car was making the sexual tension almost unbearable.

"You're very quiet," you observed, your voice coming out softer and more breathless than you'd intended.

"Trying to concentrate," Yeosang replied, his voice rougher than usual. "On driving. And not pulling over."

"Pulling over for what?" you asked innocently, though the heat in your gaze suggested you knew exactly what.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Don't tease me right now, Y/n. I'm barely holding on as it is."

The raw honesty in his voice sent a thrill through you. This was a side of Yeosang you'd never seen—his careful control slipping, his alpha nature more prominent than his usual thoughtful restraint. The combination was intoxicating.

You reached behind your ear and slowly, deliberately, peeled away your scent blocker.

The effect was immediate and devastating. Your natural jasmine and vanilla scent flooded the small space, but now it was laced with something else—the unmistakable sweetness of arousal that had been building all afternoon. The combination hit Yeosang like a physical blow.

His foot pressed harder on the accelerator as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes flashing gold for just a moment before he forced them back to brown. "Y/n," he said, your name coming out like a warning and a plea. "What are you doing?"

"Letting you know how you make me feel," you replied simply, watching as his alpha senses processed the full impact of your unfiltered scent. "How the afternoon made me feel. How right now, sitting next to you, knowing what your hands feel like, what you taste like..."

"Fuck," he breathed, the curse unusual coming from his typically composed lips. The car swerved slightly as his concentration wavered, and he had to grip the wheel tighter to maintain control. "You're going to make me crash."

"Then drive faster," you suggested with a smile that was pure temptation.

Yeosang's response was to press the accelerator further, the city blurring past as he navigated the familiar route home with newfound urgency. His alpha scent was getting stronger too—musk and cherry blossoms now mixed with something darker, more primal. The combination of your scents in the enclosed space was creating a feedback loop of desire that had both of you breathing hard by the time he pulled into the driveway.

He'd barely put the car in park before he was turning to face you, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Inside," he said, his voice carrying unmistakable alpha command. "Now. Before I do something very inappropriate in this car."

You didn't need to be told twice. You were both out of the car and moving toward the house with quick, purposeful steps, the tension between you so thick it was almost visible. Yeosang's hand found the small of your back as he guided you to the front door, the possessive touch sending electricity through your entire system.

The moment you stepped through the front door, Wooyoung bounced up from the couch where he'd been sprawled with a gaming controller, his face lighting up with excitement.

"You're back! How was the bookstore? Did you find anything good? Did Yeosang bore you to death with poetry quotes?" He was already moving toward you with his arms outstretched, clearly intending to pull you into one of his enthusiastic hugs.

But before he could reach you, a low growl rumbled from Yeosang's chest—playful but unmistakably possessive.

"No," Yeosang said firmly, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. His voice carried an authority that none of them had heard from him before, alpha dominance bleeding through his usual gentle demeanor.

Wooyoung stopped mid-step, his eyes widening with surprise and interest as he took in Yeosang's protective posture and the obvious tension radiating from both of you. "Oh," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face as understanding dawned. "OH. Well then."

Without giving anyone time to comment further, Yeosang was guiding you toward the stairs, his hand firm and possessive on your hip. "We'll be upstairs," he announced to the room at large, his tone suggesting that interruptions would not be welcome.

"Have fun!" Wooyoung called after you with barely contained glee. "Don't break anything important!"

"Wooyoung," came Seonghwa's exasperated voice from the kitchen doorway, clearly having witnessed the entire exchange.

"What? I'm being supportive! Very encouraging!"

You could hear the others beginning to gather in the living room, drawn by Wooyoung's dramatic commentary, but Yeosang was already pulling you up the stairs with single-minded determination. His room was at the end of the hall, and he led you there with the focused intensity of an alpha who had finally reached the end of his restraint.

The moment his bedroom door closed behind you, the atmosphere changed completely. Gone was the careful politeness of the bookstore, replaced by something raw and hungry that made the air itself feel electric.

Yeosang turned to face you, his back against the door, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—possession, claim, the need to make you his in every way possible.

"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice low and rough, "what you've been doing to me all afternoon?"

"Tell me," you replied, stepping closer to him with deliberate slowness.

"The way you looked at me in the bookstore. The way you listened when I talked about the books, like what I had to say actually mattered. The way you let me kiss you among the poetry..." His hands clenched at his sides as if he was fighting not to reach for you immediately. "And then in the car, removing your blocker, letting me smell how much you want me..."

...Yeosang barely got the words out before the last of his restraint shattered. He surged forward, hands catching your face and waist at once, yanking you into a kiss so fierce it stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—wasn’t even patient anymore. After an entire day of holding back, his need seared through every motion.

He tasted every gasp, every whimper, his scent filling the bedroom now that your own was free—jasmine and vanilla tangling with the deep, heady undercurrent of his alpha arousal. His hands slid into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head and expose your throat.

“Yeosang—” you breathed, but your voice broke as his lips traced the line of your jaw, down your neck to the fluttering pulse there. He grazed his teeth lightly over your skin, drawing a shudder from you.

“You know what you do to me?” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a growl in your ear as he pressed you back until your knees hit the edge of his bed. “You turn every word, every look, into a promise I can’t keep—unless I have you. All of you.”

You flushed with heat, arousal sparking sharp and urgent through your veins. “Then take me, Yeosang. I’m yours.”

That, apparently, was the last thread holding him together.

He gripped your hips and lifted you easily onto the mattress, his body caging you. Your hands slid beneath his shirt, eager to touch, to feel the racing heart and tense muscles beneath. “Too many clothes,” you muttered, and Yeosang was already stripping his sweater off, baring pale skin and lean strength.

He helped you tug off your own shirt, pausing only to dip his head and press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, your shoulder, wherever he could reach. His hands were everywhere—urgent and reverent all at once—thumbs brushing the curve of your ribcage, fingers splaying at your back.

Your scent was thick in the air now, sweet and unmistakably needy. Yeosang paused, just for a heartbeat, and buried his face along your neck, inhaling deeply. A shiver ran through him. “God, you smell perfect,” he whispered. “Drives me out of my mind.”

You arched into him, whimpering when his mouth latched onto the sensitive skin below your ear. “I want you to lose control,” you admitted, voice trembling. “I want you to show me what you feel.”

He growled again, edging on feral. “Be careful what you wish for, Y/n.”

There was no more patience then. He pushed you gently but insistently down onto the bed, shedding his own clothes with quick, deft movements while peppering every bare inch of you with kisses—soft at your throat, sharper across your hip, soothing at your stomach as your breath came in panting gasps. His scent—cherry blossom and something spicy, something only you could coax out of him—wrapped around you, dizzying.

His hands found the waistband of your pants, hesitating just enough to flick his eyes up and get your breathless, urgent nod.

“Yes. Please, Yeosang, I want—”

He slid them off in one smooth motion, his palm following, caressing down your thigh, tracing upward until he found the heat between your legs. His fingers brushed your slickness, his eyes darkening further when he realized just how badly you needed him.

He spread you open, gentle but relentless, gaze raking over you as if committing you to memory. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, voice full of awe and something primal. “All for me?”

“All for you,” you gasped, hips canting toward his touch.

Yeosang leaned down, mouth hot and insistent as he kissed you again—capturing your gasp as he finally slid a finger inside you, then another, curling just right as his thumb circled your clit. You spasmed against him, back arching, and he groaned, the possessive alpha edge unmistakable now.

“I’m going to make you come for me,” he promised, voice thick and desperate. “Right here, before I claim you. Before you feel all of me.”

All you could do was nod, already spiraling—his fingers, his scent, his everything making your body vibrate with need. You clutched his biceps, nails leaving marks as you chased the edge. Yeosang’s free hand fisted in your hair, holding you steady as his touch grew rougher, more insistent, dragging pleasure out of you.

“That’s it, princess,” he encouraged, breath hot against your ear. “Let go for me. Show me you’re mine.”

You came hard, a rush of heat and light flooding your senses as you choked out his name. The noise Yeosang made was almost a snarl, and he kissed you through it—deep and hungry. His hand gentled, easing you down, stroking you as your body trembled, melting under his touch.

When the aftershocks faded, you opened your eyes to see him watching you with tender, worshipful awe—and desperate, unspent hunger. You reached for him, pulling him down, needing him closer.

“Your turn,” you whispered, voice hoarse with want. “Claim me, Yeosang. Make me yours.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a swift, sure movement, he positioned himself over you, pausing just long enough to look into your eyes—searching, pleading for any flicker of doubt.

There was none. You lifted your hips in invitation, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushed into you, slow but deep, a groan dragged from his chest that sounded like relief and possession and reverence all at once. The fullness of him, the heat, the feeling of being connected in every way—body, scent, heart—was almost too much.

Yeosang pressed his forehead to yours, shuddering as he bottomed out, holding still to let you both adjust. Then he began to move, hips rolling, every thrust pushing you tighter together, your scents mingling until the entire room felt heavy with belonging.

You clung to him, hands in his hair, his breath stuttering against your lips as he whispered your name—over and over, words breaking, dissolving into animal need.

He fucked you with abandon, claiming each gasp, each moan, as his due, marking your neck and chest with his mouth. As you knotted together, bonded in sensation and want, Yeosang finally surrendered, losing himself in you, in everything you offered.

And when you shattered beneath him again, he followed, his body locked against yours, his heart pounding out a rhythm that perfectly matched your own.

Afterward, Yeosang just held you—arms wrapped tight around your trembling form, his forehead still pressed to yours. His scent was all over you now, and yours on him, and there was nothing left hidden between you.

“Mine,” he whispered, voice still ragged, dizzy with love and shock and awe.

“Yours,” you breathed, smiling, blissfully.

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[hisosisu]

@sapphicjino glad someone noticed so i could talk about it!!

so my feelings about susie's tail is that there are two factors that make her insecure about it: its size, and the fact she has one at all. this stems from another hc/theory people have been talking about, that susie is half monster half human, and that her places of residence before have been full of only humans, with her as the only monster in town. in a situation like this, she would have been teased relentlessly for a variety of monster features, of course, but even among other monsters, something like too small of a tail would be embarrassing too, as it's not very monster-like. because of the existence and size of her tail, more than any other feature, she doesn't fit cleanly into either group. this results in her hiding it as much as possible under baggy clothing, and trying to avoid any mention of its existence, getting embarrassed when it's brought up. this is only made worse by the fact that her tail often shows her emotions, when she's trying to be closed off and broody lol. but i feel like, in a vacuum, susie always liked her tail, liked having one, either because of the connection to a parent, or just part of her identity as a monster, the most suppressed and bullied side of herself for much of her life. she wants to show her true emotions and have her friends around her know how she feels, no matter how little she would want to admit that. so it follows that her ideal self would have such a large tail that it would be unmistakable, she could no longer even attempt to hide it under her clothes, and she would fit in much better with the monster-centric population of hometown. of course, feelings (especially teen feelings) aren't that simple, and i do think while her "ideal" is drawing off her subconscious, current susie would see her dark world tail as just as, if not more embarrassing. at least it's not ashamedly tiny, but she was always made to feel like her monster features were something to hate and hide regardless. she might not care as much around kris or ralsei, but trying to hide it around noelle in the dark world is natural, especially since, aside from showing her excitement around her crush, it's almost an invitation to look for a tail on her in the light world, too. so while susie might not admit it, having a larger tail (especially with spikes on it lol) would be her ideal, because it would force her to stop hiding what she was taught to dislike about herself. but it's still embarrassing to completely betray her cool guy vibe by having it wag like a dog.

deltarune redesigns for my hc that the lightners take on a more idealized version of themselves in the dark world.

[reveryfics]

summer pool fics !!

if you're currently writing for the boys (aswell as smut), the deep x marine animal ! male supe reader? specifically a lemon shark "hybrid" if possible. ^^

i lov your fics so much!! no scenario in mind, other than the summer pool idea,., myb kevin finding out reader has gills or something. ^3^

i humbly apply to be, 🐙 anon

Love Bites

Kevin Moskowitz "The Deep" x Male Reader

Summary: The scorching summer heat wave had just begun, and for an aquatic supe like you, a dip in the pool was becoming a very appealing prospect.

A/N: It ended up not being smut, I just couldn't figure out how to make it cohesive enough to get anywhere. Instead we just get a make out scene and Kevin being a pervert. I'm collecting anons like Pokémon :D

TW: Suggestive - Flirting - Teasing - Biting - Blood - Makeing out - Supe reader

Joining The Seven, Vought's elite superhero team, was never on your radar. Especially not in a city like New York, where your unique aquatic abilities felt largely out of place. However, your consistent and effective efforts in aiding coastal cities during various crises had not gone unnoticed. Vought, ever the opportunists, extended an offer they described as a "partnership" with The Deep, their resident aquatic hero.

You were initially hesitant, wary of the corporate machine and the spotlight that came with it. But then, they dangled the ultimate bait: a luxurious residence with prime waterfront access, complete with your own private pool. For someone whose powers thrived in and around water, it was an offer you simply couldn't refuse.

Adapting to life alongside The Deep, or Kevin as you quickly learned was his real name, proved surprisingly easy. It was as if the particularly over-friendly nature of the lemon shark — the very creature whose DNA you shared — was seeking a kindred spirit. This innate connection seemed to effortlessly draw you towards Kevin, who, despite his expensive cologne, perpetually carried the faint, familiar scent of fish.

Kevin, in turn, developed an immediate fondness for you. Perhaps it was the way you shadowed him, not quite a lost puppy, but certainly with an undeniable loyalty. Or perhaps, and this was the more intriguing possibility, he genuinely felt a connection that transcended your shared aquatic abilities. It certainly didn't hurt that every lewd comment or inappropriate action Kevin made was met with an almost disarming affection from you. He could grope your backside in a hallway, or make a suggestive remark about how your sharp teeth would feel against his skin, and you would simply meet his gaze with a genuine, unperturbed smile.

He wouldn't readily admit it, but there was something about you that captivated him. The dangerous glint in your sharp, predatory teeth when you smiled, the subtle lisp that laced your words, the way your eyes mimicked the piercing, lifeless gaze of a lemon shark yet still managed to hold so much vibrant life and warmth within them. He found himself drawn to all of these qualities, and if he were truly honest, even more beyond that. That's precisely why he found himself at your place on this scorching summer day, content to sit by the shimmering pool.

Kevin watched, mesmerized, as you gracefully navigated the cool water. Occasionally, you'd break the surface, your head emerging to fix him with an intense stare, like a predator sizing up its prey – a juicy tuna, perhaps. He hadn't even realized how long he'd been staring until you effortlessly pulled yourself from the pool, your swim trunks clinging loosely to your hips.

"You going to sit there all day or are you going to join me?" you huffed, now standing over Kevin, arms crossed, a challenging glint in your eyes.

He cocked an eyebrow, a new observation catching his attention. How had he never noticed your gills before? Most likely, your superhero suit concealed them, just as his did. And it seemed that when you weren't submerged, they seamlessly closed up, becoming practically invisible. "You have gills?" he murmured, a hint of genuine surprise in his voice.

You let out a low sigh, a playful smirk touching your lips. "Yeah, and they're far less uglier than yours," you retorted, gesturing pointedly towards Kevin's bare torso, where his own prominent gills were on full display. The unspoken challenge in your words hung in the air, a silent invitation for him to prove you wrong.

"Hey! Mine aren't ugly," Kevin scoffed, though a smirk played on his lips. He ran a hand over his own gills, almost defensively. "They're... efficient. And clearly, more developed." He pushed himself off the edge of the pool, moving closer to where you stood. "Besides, I've had mine since birth. You just kept yours a secret."

You rolled your eyes, a small ripple going through the water at the motion. "Not a secret, just... not something I lead with. Not exactly a great icebreaker, 'Hi, I have gills!'" You shivered slightly as a breeze picked up, goosebumps rising on your wet skin. Kevin noticed, his gaze softening as he grabbed a towel from a nearby lounge chair.

"Here," he said, holding it out to you. "You'll catch a chill."

You took the towel, wrapping it around your shoulders. "Thanks," you murmured, a genuine smile gracing your lips, the sharp edges of your teeth less intimidating in the soft light. "So, still not joining?"

Kevin considered it for a moment, looking at the inviting blue of the pool, then back at you. He liked seeing you like this, relaxed and unguarded, away from the demanding glare of Vought Tower and the constant performance of being a supe. He liked that you didn't judge his often clumsy attempts at humor or his more... forward tendencies. With you, it felt less like he was playing a part, and more like he could just be.

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "But only if you promise not to try and out-swim me." He winked.

You laughed, a clear, bright sound. "No promises, Deep. You know how competitive I get."

As he stepped into the cool water, the sudden splash momentarily dousing you, he noticed the way your eyes, those captivating shark-like eyes, gleamed with something akin to genuine happiness. Maybe, just maybe, this "partnership" was exactly what they both needed.

The cool water was a welcome respite from the oppressive summer heat, and Kevin relished the sensation as he submerged himself. He pushed off the bottom, gliding towards you with an easy grace that belied his often awkward terrestrial demeanor. When he surfaced, shaking water from his hair, you were already treading water a few feet away, a playful challenge in your shark-like eyes.

"So, the great Deep finally deigns to join the common folk," you teased, a splash of water hitting his face.

Kevin chuckled, wiping the water from his eyes. "Someone had to show you how it's done. You're just splashing around." He propelled himself forward, a powerful kick of his legs sending him surging through the water. He was fast, undeniably so, but you were no slouch either. With a flick of your wrist and a subtle ripple of what he now knew were your gills, you were right there with him, matching his pace stroke for stroke.

They spent the next hour in a comfortable rhythm of playful races and easy conversation. You talked about the peculiar challenges of using your abilities in landlocked situations, and the surprising freedom you felt in the open ocean. Kevin, in turn, shared anecdotes about his public appearances, the never-ending demands of Vought, and the quieter moments he cherished with his aquatic friends. There was a genuine ease between you, a shared understanding born from your unique physiologies and the bizarre world you inhabited.

As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you both found yourselves floating near the edge of the pool, the water gently lapping around you. The playful banter had given way to a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city.

"You know," Kevin said, his voice softer than usual, "it's... nice. Having someone who just gets it." He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "The whole... fish thing. The pressure. All of it."

You met his gaze, the sharp edges of your teeth hidden beneath a genuine smile. "Yeah," you agreed, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the setting sun. "It really is."

A comfortable stillness settled between you, a quiet acknowledgment of the unique bond that was forming. It was more than just a Vought-mandated "partnership"; it was a genuine connection, forged in the depths of shared experiences and the unexpected comfort of simply being.

The tranquil moment, as idyllic as the setting sun, was, of course, destined to be shattered by Kevin. He pushed off the bottom of the pool with a powerful kick, closing the distance between you in an instant. Before you could react, he had you pressed against the cool, tiled edge, his body a warm presence in front of yours. He stood there, a damned idiot indeed, a playful yet undeniably lecherous smirk stretching across his face.

You could have easily overpowered him. You had, countless times before, when his antics pushed the boundaries of your patience. Your strength, often underestimated, was more than a match for his. But instead of pushing him away, you simply smiled, a slow, deliberate unveiling of the mixed human and shark-like teeth that lined your mouth. It was a smile that promised mischief and a hint of danger, an unspoken challenge that he, in his current state, seemed oblivious to.

His eyes, usually wide and innocent, were now narrowed with an almost predatory glint as they raked over your form, lingering below the waterline. "You know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly close to your ear, "you look even better wet. And those trunks… they really don't leave much to the imagination, do they?"

Before you could retort, his hands found your hips, slipping beneath the water's surface. His touch was firm, possessive, and entirely too familiar. He drew you closer, the friction of your bodies a sudden, intense warmth in the cool water. His thumb grazed the waistband of your trunks, a subtle, almost imperceptible pressure that sent a shiver down your spine – a shiver that was as much anticipation as it was annoyance.

"I can't help but wonder," he continued, his voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper, his gaze fixed on your mouth, "how those sharp teeth of yours would feel... everywhere." A beat of silence hung in the air, charged with unspoken implications, before he added, "And I'm not just talking about a little nip, either. I'm talking a full-on, 'leave a mark' kind of experience." The smirk on his face widened, a challenge now openly daring you to respond to his blatant provocation.

You could feel the blood heat in your veins, a familiar rush of irritation and something else, something primal and undeniably intrigued. His words, his touch, always managed to ignite that particular spark. The danger in your smile intensified, your eyes narrowing to slivers that mimicked the keen gaze of a hunter.

"Oh, Kevin," you purred, the lisp in your voice more pronounced now, a subtle hiss that only he seemed to truly hear. Your hands, until now resting idly on the pool's edge, rose slowly to rest on his shoulders, your fingers digging in just enough to convey a silent warning. "You truly have no idea, do you?"

You leaned closer, invading his personal space, the scent of chlorine and him – that ever-present hint of the ocean – filling your senses. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly. You could feel the tautness in his muscles under your touch, a clear sign that despite his bravado, he was keenly aware of the precarious line he was treading.

"Those 'nips' as you so delicately put it," you continued, your voice dropping to a near whisper, "can do a lot more than just 'leave a mark.' They can tear, Deep. Shred. And believe me, Kevin, there are a lot of places where they'd feel very at home."

You let your gaze drop pointedly to his exposed chest, then back up to his eyes, watching the flicker of genuine apprehension that finally registered there. The smirk on his face faltered, replaced by a slight widening of his eyes. He still held your hips, but the confident grip had loosened, almost imperceptibly.

"So, the question isn't how my teeth would feel in your skin," you finished, a low, guttural growl rumbling in your chest, "it's whether you're brave enough to find out."

You held his gaze, a silent challenge passing between you. The air crackled with a tension that was both playful and deeply animalistic. For a moment, the only sound was the gentle lapping of the water, and the rapid beat of Kevin's heart against your palm.

Kevin swallowed hard, the confident bravado that usually coated his interactions with you momentarily stripped away. He could see the truth in your eyes, the primal, untamed side that lay beneath your charming exterior. The thought of those teeth, sharp and glistening, doing more than just a playful nip, sent a shiver down his spine that was less about arousal and more about a very real, very delicious fear.

"Right," he managed, his voice a little hoarse. The smirk had completely vanished, replaced by a look that was a fascinating blend of awe and genuine trepidation. "A... 'leave a mark' kind of experience. Got it." His grip on your hips, which had slackened, now tightened again, but with a different kind of intensity – less possessive, more like he was holding on for dear life.

You let the silence hang for another beat, letting the implications of your words sink in. Then, a slow, triumphant smile spread across your face, revealing those teeth once more, but this time, the danger was tempered with a mischievous glint.

"Good," you purred, and with a sudden, fluid movement, you twisted out of his grasp. You pushed off the pool edge, sending a playful spray of water in his face. In an instant, you were gliding away from him, your form a blur beneath the surface.

Kevin blinked, shaking the water from his eyes. He watched as you surfaced a few feet away, laughing, that clear, bright sound echoing around the now-darkening pool area. The setting sun cast long, shimmering shadows across the water, making your form seem almost ethereal. He was still pressed against the edge, a dumbstruck grin slowly spreading across his face.

He had tried to be the predator, to push your boundaries with his usual lewd charm. But you, in your own unique and terrifying way, had effortlessly flipped the script, reminding him exactly who held the real power in this particular dynamic. And the most frustrating, exhilarating part? He wouldn't have it any other way.

He pushed off the wall, a renewed determination in his eyes. "You're on, Shark Bait!" he called out, launching himself after you, the chase now truly on.

The chase was exhilarating. Kevin, invigorated by your challenge, was a blur of limbs and splashes, his usual grace amplified by the thrill of the pursuit. He lunged, feinted, and darted through the water, but you were always one step ahead, a fluid shadow he couldn't quite grasp.

"Can't catch me, Deep!" you taunted, surfacing just out of his reach, a playful spray of water showering his face. Your laughter, bright and unburdened, echoed across the water.

"Oh, I'll catch you, Shark Bait!" he retorted, a grin stretching across his face as he pushed off the bottom, narrowing the gap between you. "Just waiting for you to get tired!"

You rolled your eyes, but the smile never left your face. "Tired? Please. I could do this all night." You ducked under the water, letting your body become one with the currents, a fleeting dark shape just beyond his grasp. You could feel the subtle vibrations of his movements, hear the rush of water as he propelled himself, a perfect sonar image forming in your mind.

He let out a frustrated grunt as you popped up behind him, lightly tapping his shoulder before darting away again. "That's cheating!" he protested, spinning around. "You're using your... advanced senses!"

"And you're using your... massive ego!" you shot back, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Fair is fair, Kevin."

The teasing escalated, each retort sharper, each near-miss more tantalizing. He'd try to grab your ankle, only for you to kick away with a powerful flick of your legs. You'd swim circles around him, close enough for him to feel the displacement of the water, but always just out of reach. There was an unspoken agreement in this dance, a thrill in the pursuit, a knowing flicker in your shared glances that this was more than just a game of tag.

He finally cornered you near the shallow end, his arms reaching out to ensnare you. But you were quicker. In a sudden burst of speed, you ducked under his outstretched arms, twisting your body with an almost inhuman agility. Before he could reorient himself, you had surged forward, closing the distance between you and the pool wall.

Kevin, momentarily off balance, found himself abruptly pushed back against the cool, tiled surface. Your hands, surprisingly strong, found his shoulders, pressing him firmly against the wall. His eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and that familiar, appealing blend of fear and exhilaration.

You leaned in close, your face mere inches from his. The water dripped from your hair, tickling his nose. His breath hitched, and you could feel the rapid thrum of his pulse against your palms. The scent of him, that unique aquatic musk, was intoxicatingly close.

"Gotcha," you whispered, your voice a low, triumphant purr, the lisp making the word stretch out sensuously. Your shark-like teeth were on full display now, a sharp, white line against the wet darkness of your lips. The hunt was over, and the predator had claimed its prey. The roles had been decisively, deliciously, reversed.

He was truly pinned, his back pressed flat against the cool tiles, your hands on his shoulders holding him in place. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes, usually so full of an obnoxious confidence, were wide, reflecting the low glow of the pool lights. He was completely at your mercy, and for once, he seemed to know it.

"Well, well, well," you mused, your voice a low hum against the gentle lapping of the water. You leaned in even closer, your wet hair brushing against his forehead. "Look what the tide dragged in."

Kevin's lips parted as if to retort, but no sound came out. He was too busy staring at your mouth, at the sharp, almost predatory gleam of your teeth in the dim light. The playful menace in your eyes, however, was what truly held his gaze.

"Cat got your tongue, Deep?" you whispered, a challenging smirk playing on your lips. You could feel the subtle tremor in his shoulders beneath your hands. The scent of him, heightened by the proximity, filled your senses—chlorine, fish, and something else, something uniquely Kevin.

He finally managed to clear his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Just... admiring the view," he breathed, his voice a little shaky, but a flicker of his old charm trying to resurface. His eyes dropped to your lips, then to the exposed skin of your neck, before darting back to meet your gaze.

You let out a soft, amused huff. "Oh, I'm sure you are." You tightened your grip on his shoulders just slightly, enough to convey that you were still in control. "But we both know this isn't about 'admiration,' is it, Kevin?"

You paused, letting the implication hang in the air between you. The silence stretched, charged with the unsaid, with all the unspoken tension and undeniable attraction that simmered beneath your constant banter. Kevin's gaze was fixed on yours, searching, vulnerable, waiting for your next move.

You could see the internal struggle on his face, the battle between his usual slick persona and the raw vulnerability you had managed to coax out of him. It was a rare sight, and one you savored.

"No," he finally admitted, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your mouth, then lower, to where your bodies met beneath the surface of the water. "It's not."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across your face, the dangerous glint in your eyes softening just a fraction. You leaned in even closer, your lips brushing his ear, sending a jolt through his frame.

"Good," you murmured, your voice a low, teasing rasp. "Because I think we're both past the point of just 'admiration,' wouldn't you agree?"

Before he could answer, you pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze again. The question hung in the air, a silent dare, an invitation to acknowledge the undeniable current that flowed between you. His eyes, still wide and a little dazed, searched yours, and in them, you saw a flicker of surrender, mixed with a healthy dose of pure, unadulterated desire.

A tremor ran through Kevin's body, a physical manifestation of the raw tension between you. He parted his lips, a shaky breath escaping him. The vulnerability in his eyes was almost disarming, a stark contrast to the lewd confidence he usually exuded. He was truly exposed, and it was a look you found surprisingly captivating.

"Yeah," he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper, thick with an emotion you couldn't quite name, but recognized nonetheless. "Yeah, I'd agree."

The admission hung in the air, a fragile thing that could shatter at the slightest wrong move. But instead of shattering, it solidified into something palpable. You felt a shift, a definitive crossing of a line that had long been blurred between you. This wasn't just a game anymore.

You felt a surge of something primal, a deep satisfaction that hummed in your very bones. This was what you had been waiting for, the moment he dropped the act, the moment he allowed himself to be truly seen by you.

Your gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth, then back again. The playful menace in your shark-like teeth softened, replaced by a different kind of intensity. You leaned in again, this time not to whisper a threat, but to close the last sliver of space between you.

Kevin's eyes fluttered shut as your lips finally met his. It was a tentative beginning, a soft press that tasted of chlorine and the unspoken desires that had simmered between you for so long. For a moment, the world outside the pool ceased to exist. There was only the cool water, the warmth of his body against yours, and the undeniable connection that had finally, undeniably, ignited.

The initial tentative touch ignited, a spark catching fire between you. The kiss deepened, Kevin's arms snaking around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The water, once a cool barrier, now served to heighten every sensation, every press of skin against skin. Your bodies, slick and warm, moved together in a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm, the gentle lapping of the pool a soft counterpoint to the accelerating beat of your hearts.

You could feel the hard planes of his chest against your own, the flex of his muscles as he held you possessively. His lips were soft, eager, a stark contrast to the sharp edge you usually presented. He kissed you with a desperate hunger, as if he'd been waiting for this moment, this release, for a lifetime.

Responding in kind, you opened your mouth to him, a low moan rumbling in your throat as his tongue met yours. It was a familiar dance, yet charged with a new, potent electricity. Your hands, still on his shoulders, tightened, your fingers digging into the wet skin beneath them.

Then, a mischievous impulse, sharp and sudden, took hold. You pulled back just a fraction, your gaze dropping to his bottom lip, full and inviting. With a deliberate slowness that was pure torment, you leaned in again, your shark-like teeth just barely grazing his skin. A low growl, more pleasure than threat, escaped your throat as you closed your teeth gently over his lip, not hard enough to break the skin, but just enough for him to feel the tantalizing pressure, the faint, primal warning of what lay beneath.

Kevin gasped, a sharp intake of breath against your mouth, a shiver racking his body. He tensed, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between your forms. The slight nip sent a jolt through him, a jolt that was a dangerous cocktail of fear and intense arousal. He knew, intimately, what those teeth were capable of, and the knowledge only served to heighten the frantic energy that now pulsed between you.

You didn't stop there. The small nip at his lip was merely an appetizer, a taste of the dangerous pleasure you intended to inflict. You pulled your mouth away from his, leaving his lips swollen and slightly parted, a silent gasp escaping him. He was breathing heavily now, a desperate, guttural sound that thrilled you to your core.

Your gaze dropped to his neck, a canvas of taut muscle and pulsing veins. With deliberate slowness, you began to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jawline, inching lower towards the vulnerable hollow of his throat. Then, you introduced the exquisite torment of your teeth once more. Not biting, not drawing blood, but a series of light, teasing nips that dragged your sharp enamel across his skin. He shivered violently against you, a low moan escaping his lips as your teeth scraped and teased, a whisper of primal sensation.

His hands, still gripping your hips, tightened to the point of bruising, his knuckles white. He arched into you, an almost desperate plea, utterly at your mercy. You could feel the frantic beat of his heart thudding against your chest, mirroring the rapid pulse that now hammered in your own ears.

But you weren't done. Your mouth continued its descent, leaving a trail of wet heat and prickling sensations in its wake. Your tongue, slick and agile, glided over the curve of his shoulder, then down, towards his chest. You tasted the chlorinated water, the faint saltiness of his skin, and the distinct, alluring scent of him.

You lingered at his pectorals, your tongue tracing the hard lines of muscle before finding one of his nipples. You circled it slowly, deliberately, with the tip of your tongue, feeling the immediate hardening beneath your touch. Then, with a soft, sucking motion, you drew it into your mouth, your teeth gently scraping again, this time at the sensitive peak. Kevin let out a choked cry, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure and desperation. His head fell back against the tiled wall, exposing the full length of his throat, an unspoken invitation. He was yours, completely.

You pulled away, your mouth leaving the sensitive peak of his nipple, a gasp tearing from Kevin's throat as the sudden absence of your touch left him aching. He instinctively tried to follow, to reclaim the pressure, but your hands on his shoulders held him firmly in place against the wall.

Your gaze, dark and knowing, met his, filled with a dangerous mix of triumph and playful cruelty. He knew what you were doing. Every deliberate movement, every lingering touch followed by a strategic withdrawal, was a calculated tease. He hated it. Hated the exquisite torment of being pushed to the edge, only for you to pull back just before he shattered. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white where his hands still gripped your hips. He was a man suspended in raw need, and you were the architect of his exquisite agony.

You leaned in again, not for his mouth, but to linger over the curve of his neck, where his pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against your lips. Your breath, warm and humid, ghosted over his skin, sending shivers through him. You pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss just below his ear, your tongue a slow, deliberate slide along the line of his jaw. He let out a low, frustrated growl, a desperate sound of yearning that vibrated against your chest.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he rasped, his voice strained, a desperate plea in his eyes. He squeezed your hips, a silent demand for you to either finish what you started or let him go.

You smirked, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Oh, Kevin, you have no idea," you whispered back, your lips just brushing his skin as you spoke. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in his muscles, the way his body subtly pushed against yours, begging for more. And in that moment, you reveled in the absolute power you held over him.

You could feel his barely restrained desperation, the way his body subtly pleaded for release. And though you enjoyed the torment, the exquisite power of his heightened need, even you had your limits for teasing. The corner of your mouth quirked into a subtle smile as you finally gave in.

You pulled away from his neck just enough to get a better angle, your eyes locking onto the soft, vulnerable skin in the curve of his shoulder, right where his neck met the deltoid. It was a spot that promised both intimacy and a shocking amount of pain if handled incorrectly. You leaned in, no longer with playful nips, but with a sudden, decisive intent.

Kevin's eyes widened fractionally as he registered the shift, a flicker of raw apprehension replacing his desperate arousal. But it was too late. Your teeth, sharp and unforgiving, sank into the tender flesh. It wasn't a gentle bite, not a love-nip. This was harsh, deliberate, and undeniably primal. You felt the satisfying resistance of his skin giving way, heard the faint tearing sound, and then, the distinct, coppery taste of blood bloomed in your mouth.

Kevin cried out, a guttural sound that was part pain, part shock, and part an almost animalistic release. His hands instantly clamped down on your hips with bruising force, not to push you away, but to hold you impossibly closer, as if anchoring himself against the sudden, exquisite agony. His body stiffened, a tremor running through him, then he slumped against the wall, head thrown back, breath coming in ragged gasps.

You held the bite for a moment, savoring the feeling of your teeth buried in his flesh, the warm, metallic tang filling your senses. It was a profound, almost instinctual satisfaction. Then, slowly, you released your hold, pulling back your head. A thin trickle of dark red blood welled up from the two distinct punctures on his shoulder, glistening starkly against his pale skin and the chlorinated water.

You met his gaze, your eyes dark and intense, a silent question in their depths. He was panting, staring at you with a mix of shock, pain, and an undeniable, almost terrifying fascination. The game was over. The boundaries had been violently, thrillingly, broken.

The small wellspring of blood on Kevin's shoulder was stark against his skin, a vivid testament to your primal act. He was still pinned, chest heaving, his eyes wide and fixed on yours, a complex storm of emotions swirling within their depths: shock, pain, but also a dangerous glint of something akin to awe, even a perverse satisfaction. He reached up, his fingers tentatively brushing the fresh wounds on his shoulder, a low groan escaping him.

"You... you really did it," he rasped, his voice raw, a strange mix of accusation and wonder.

You watched him, your own breath steady, the metallic tang of his blood still lingering on your tongue, a sharp, intoxicating reminder of your actions. There was no regret, only a deep-seated hum of satisfaction that resonated through your entire being. This was the raw, untamed side of you, a part that few ever saw, let alone experienced so intimately.

"Did you think I wouldn't, Kevin?" you murmured, your voice low, a playful challenge still present, but now underscored by a dangerous edge. Your gaze dropped to the twin punctures, then back to his eyes, watching his reaction intently. "You asked for it. You dared me."

His lips, still swollen from your kiss, curved into a slow, almost bewildered smile. It was a genuine smile, devoid of his usual manufactured charm, a raw expression of the boundary that had just been shattered between you. He looked from the blood on his shoulder to your face, then back again, as if trying to reconcile the two images.

"Yeah," he breathed, a hint of something resembling surrender in his eyes. "I guess I did." He paused, a different kind of warmth now spreading through him, one that wasn't from the setting sun. "Doesn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch."

You let out a low chuckle, a soft, guttural sound that seemed to vibrate through the water. You finally released your hold on his shoulders, allowing him to push off the wall. He moved slowly, almost cautiously, still processing the intensity of the moment.

"I imagine it did," you admitted, a genuine softness entering your tone, a rare glimpse of compassion. You reached out, your thumb gently wiping away a stray drop of blood from the edge of his wound, your touch surprisingly tender. "But you'll live, Deep. You're tougher than you look."

He watched your hand, a strange vulnerability in his gaze. "Yeah," he repeated, then looked directly into your eyes, a newfound understanding, a deeper connection forged in pain and raw intimacy. "I think I might be, with you around."

The last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the pool in twilight. The air grew cooler, but the space between you crackled with an undeniable heat. You knew, with a certainty that hummed in your very core, that this was only the beginning. The "partnership" Vought had offered had spiraled into something far more complicated, far more dangerous, and infinitely more exhilarating.

[stellargh0ul]

Could I have some reader cockwarming Copia after they had a bad & stressful day? (Totally not self indulgent)

you would not believe how much of my writing in these prompts is just excuses to be self-indulgent. you're good, dove.

-

his hands run gently through your hair as you curl in his lap, petting through the strands in slow, rhythmic motions. you don’t say anything, but you feel his chest move like he’s about to- and then he falls silent once more.

you’re grateful. you don’t know what you would have responded with had he asked you a question or said something, but you aren’t fully sure it would have been coherent.

it isn’t just the cock sitting inside you- though that’s part of it, of course.

it’s just that your day had been utter shit, from the moment you woke up in the morning to the moment you walked into Frater Imperator’s office and wordlessly climbed into his lap.

the scratching of his pen on paper resumes and you close your eyes once more, leaning forward on him to lay your head on his shoulder. Copia’s head moves slightly, turning to press a kiss to the side of your head, but otherwise the two of you are still for a long moment.

it had taken a bit, to get to that point, of course. ever the gentleman, he’d insisted on fingering you open before he’d allow you to take his cock, something which you’d protested as unnecessary. but you were overruled.

and even before that, he’d gone down a long list of things he could possibly do to make you feel better before arriving at cockwarming: drawing you a nice bath, serenading you with a song meant only for your ears, cooking your favorite for dinner rather than eating at the ministry cafeteria…

nothing had sounded like enough to your ears. you weren’t so much feeling overwhelmed as you were feeling disconnected: from the world, from your duties, and from the very people around you.

and so, what better way to feel connected once more than to literally be connected together as he finished up his work?

you’re very nearly asleep by the time he puts his pen down once more and his hand comes up to stroke your back.

“cara,” he murmurs in your ear. “I’m finished with work. how do you… how do you want to do this?”

experimentally, he moves inside you for the first time since the pair of you had settled into this position and you groan a little as the motion pushes him just a tiny bit deeper.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I don’t… want to be separated.”

even the few minutes it would take for him to collect himself and the pair of you to walk to your chambers feels like too long for you to be apart right now.

“…hm.”

his hands trace patterns on your back and you hold tight to the grip you have around his neck, his body the anchor keeping you grounded in a world that felt so utterly foreign to you right now.

“…we can sit here as long as we need,” Copia says, after a time, and it’s in the face of his love that a few tears finally begin to fall.

[dreamingofthewild]

I don't know how the Spellplague works - I mean, I tried to read up on it and was still confused. But I always wondered if Gale could have somehow "accidentally" used magic without knowing any spells when he was a kid.

For example, perhaps he had some kind of innate connection with the weave despite not being a sorcerer, which is what attracted the attention of Elminster when he was 8.

I think I read somewhere that magic was errant during this time, and it was hard for anyone to use magic. So it really would have made him a prodigy worthy of being Mystra's first new Chosen in her new incarnation.

I have an HC that her essence was in the air, drawing more power from wizards and sorcerers until she was able to find a new form and gain enough strength to rise again. And Gale was one of them.

I don't know if that's possible.

So I know people wonder about Gale's innate ability with magic from childhood. Namely, why he doesn't qualify as a sorcerer. I did some digging, and came across the concept of 'the Gift'.

Established by Ed Greenwood, the Gift is what any magic user needs to be able do magic in the realms--even wizards! It's an innate ability to engage with magic in any capacity.

Then I remembered this line from Mystra when she speaks to Gale:

“When the Karsite Weave entered your body, your gifts were the first things it consumed."

So, it sounds like the orb ate away at his fundamental ability to engage with magic at all.

As a prodigy, Gale was gifted. He had an innate ability to engage with the weave. Sorcerers manipulate magic instinctively through their bloodline, while wizards do it by studying spellwork. This all makes sense to me. I see the distinction between the Gift and Sorcerer magic.

What I still can't make sense of is how he was conjuring rabbits as a toddler, without someone having shown him a spell for it first. Any ideas?

Maybe @dekariosclan?

[pressgforgoodgirl]

Arthur's Painting

Summary: You and Arthur enjoy a laid back afternoon on the ranch, each taking time to enjoy your own hobbies. In recent months, Arthur has taken up a new artistic venture. After enjoying some time alone, you find Arthur working on his new project. 

Pairing: modern!arthur x female reader

Word count: 1,297

Warnings/tags: suggestiveness at the end, Arthur’s self esteem issues show up a tad again

previous chapter - A Morning on the Lake

series masterlist

The sun was just beginning to fall after having risen to its noontime peak overhead. The air was comfortably warm, a light breeze passing by to tickle your skin and hair. You and your husband Arthur spent the morning and early afternoon completing your daily chores. The horses had been fed and watered, turned out, exercised, and clean stalls awaited their return at nightfall. You were even able to enjoy a quick horse ride with Arthur through the woods and fields surrounding your remote property. 

After grooming the horses and returning them to the pasture, the two of you strolled over to the Marstons’ to see if you could help with anything on the farm. They put down their work when you approached, allowing you to enjoy each other’s company for a while. Eventually, they returned to their chores, indicating that they were almost done and that there was no need for the two of you to stick around today, though they always appreciated your offer.

When you and Arthur returned to the ranch, you decided to split off, allowing each other time to enjoy your own hobbies. You adored and loved each other deeply, but you also appreciated moments of solitude, allowing yourself to focus solely on your interests, to let your mind water, to spend time exploring your individuality. You felt wholly connected, as if he really was a part of you, and you him. Spending time alone allowed you and Arthur to reunite feeling as though you were truly an inseperable union composed of two individual souls. 

You often described yourself as a hobby “explorer.” You were amazed, sometimes overwhelmed, by the possibilities life offered you. You found yourself drawn to learn and discover as many things as you could, never committing yourself wholly to one hobby. Today, you had set your mind on making jewelry. You hoped to make a nature-based piece, using as many items as you could from the land surrounding you. 

You started by finding some long blades of grass. You pulled them up and tied them together at one end. Then, you began to braid down the strands until you had the base of a necklace. Next, you would find flowers to weave into the grass. You went on through fields and down by the lake for a while, soaking in the sunshine and clean, crisp air. You watched fish leaping in the water, birds flying overhead, and dragonflies buzzing around you. 

Arthur had been an artist nearly all of his life. It started with sketches from his day to day life. These soon made their way into journals he came to keep consistently, adding notes of memories, thoughts, happenings, etc. When you had first discovered Arthur’s journal, he was incredibly shy, and it took lots of coaxing to let you see even one of his drawings. But as your relationship developed, he opened himself and his work up to you. It was a continuing effort to bolster his confidence and self-esteem, but you were making progress.

Arthur had returned from a trip to town one day with a bag labeled “Leroy’s Fine Arts and Crafts.” Your eyes caught the print, astonished and excited that Arthur had bought something for himself, and art supplies at that. When you asked him what he had purchased, he tried to wave you off, claiming it was “just a few things for his journal.” But you could always see through Arthur’s fibs. 

“Oh really now?” you had challenged, a wide grin covering your face. “Why don’t you show me then, if it’s just a few things for your journal?”

“Well, you see… now I…” Arthur had stammered back, hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck while a rosy red crept up his hot cheeks, avoiding eye contact. You had been married several years now and been together for even longer. “Why am I so nervous to show her?” he had thought to himself. It wasn’t like him to hide things from you, but he still felt vulnerable when it came to his artwork, no matter how safe he felt with you. 

Sensing the insecurity he felt, you softened your approach. You walked up to him gently, wrapping your hands around his neck. Arthur returned your embrace, resting his hands on your hips, his bag still in one hand. You stroked the back of his neck reassuringly and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You know I love your drawings Arthur, and I love you even more. I’m just excited to see what piqued your interest, is all.”

Arthur’s chest swelled with warmth at your words. He planted a loving kiss on your forehead, then pulled back to show you the contents of the bag. “I saw some oil paintings on the wall at the bar when we were there the other night. I thought I’d give it a shot” Arthur shrugged. “I probably won’t be any good at it, but maybe I’ll enjoy it.” 

You smiled up at him, excited to hear about his new hobby, but sad to hear the self doubt he had voiced. “Whether you enjoy it or not is all that really matters, Arthur” you encouraged. You were sure Arthur would be an amazing oil painter, too, though you didn’t want him to feel any more pressure than he was already giving himself, and you knew it truly wasn’t the point of pursuing a new interest anyhow. So for now, you let his comments about “not being any good” slide. 

Time revealed your predictions to be true. With lots of time and practice, Arthur had become quite adept with oil, creating beautiful paintings of the horses and the landscape surrounding your home. These were the paintings that now adorned the walls of your cabin. 

And so, it was no surprise when after having finished your necklace and again desiring Arthur’s company, you found him at the edge of a field, sitting on a stool, easel propped up in front, painting the sights before him. He heard you approaching, turning around and beaming you a smile. You swore your heart stopped a little bit each time he looked at you like that, no matter how many times he had done it. You came up next to him, placing a gentle hand on his non-dominant shoulder, being sure not to disturb his brush strokes. It was a piece he had been working on for a few weeks now, and it was finally coming together. You stood there, awestruck, unsure if you were captivated more by the canvas or the handsome stud sitting before it.  

You placed a kiss behind his ear. He lowered his brush a moment to turn and plant a kiss on your lips. Returning his gaze to the painting, he said, “Not too bad, huh?”

“Not too bad?” you asked incredulously. “It’s amazing, Arthur. You should be incredibly proud of your work.”

“Aw, you’re just saying that to get me into bed later, ain’tcha?” Arthur joked, still learning how to accept your praises, still learning how to believe them. 

“Oh I know it doesn't take much to get you under my sheets” you teased back with a wink. “But really, Arthur. Just take the compliment, because truly, I mean it. I’m lucky to be with someone as incredibly talented as you.”

“Oh, alright then, pretty lady” Arthur said, letting you have your way and picking up the hand you had placed on his shoulder to plant a kiss on the back of it. “You hungry? Whaddya say I cook you some dinner?”

“Oh I don’t know, cowboy. Will it come with dessert?” you replied with a wicked grin. 

“You dirty woman,” Arthur chuckled back, shaking his head. 

You guessed you would have to wait and see. 

[spectralcastle]

Oh look, it's Joxters, or Jokesters, or whatever, hellcats Hell doesn't exist in the world of Theater of Absurd

The Lore:

Joxters aren't demons, but there's a demon who's appearance is based no them (Furfur, will draw him at some point) The world doesn't know what to classify them as. They're intelligent, but animalistic. Thus, they've been classified as a type of familiars.

Their voices can't be heard. To a passerby, they'll sound like raspy meowing cats. They communicate through telepathy. Thus, if the person imagines that they can talk - they'll hear their voices. If the person believes they can't talk - they won't hear them. Joxters typically intrude into someone's home and hide there, pranking or helping the owner. If the owner puts in effort to lure them out and tame them, they take the person as their master, and become loyal to literal death. They'll still continue the tomfoolery, but now combined with doing favors for their master. They will only leave if the master turns abusive.

They're also considered pests in some regions, and are thus shunned. They multiply not only the natural way, but also through 'infecting' mortals. If a person engages with one or multiple, and gives into their tomfoolery, and possibly wishes to become such a cat due to, say, wanting to be as carefree - they'll get infected with their energy and turn into one in a few weeks.

The usual victims of such transformation are 'fools', aka, drunkards, gamblers, lazy idiots, as well as young children who don't know better. They also often steal and play pranks, which could get dangerous. Anyone who gives them any type of reaction - would have their energy stolen. Joxters' bodies don't produce mana on their own, so they're energy vampires.

Facts: . They're all 150 cm tall (4,9 ft) . They're entirely black and white . They live 20+ years average, 30 at best . Their main magic is illusions . If they give birth, their kids look like regular kittens, which later develop anthro-anatomy . They hate clothes, but will wear them partially. As in, only hats, or collars, or a shirt, just to temporarily look cool . They have different genders, but those are usually not visible, like with some real animals . Their favorite drink is sweet alcohol (like milk for cats). They can be lured via it. It, surprisingly, doesn't hurt them . Each of them has a unique hairstyle that always grows the same, fur pattern, set of markings, and a tail tip + pupils which correspond to a house of playing cards . They walk upright, but will choose to crawl on all fours sometimes . They're eternal optimists, and can't be sad for long. You'd have to torture them to make them truly sad . When they die, it's usually in their sleep. They simply melt into a puddle of pure black magic over a few hours, which then evaporates, corroding everything around . The purpose of their life is literally to party until they die One might think they're stupid, but they're not. They could actually be taught many things, not to mention that they technically understand all languages, since they're telepathic. They also have a semi-telepathic connection between each other, which could briefly make them a hivemind, which is dangerous

[writeouswriter]

Anyone have any experience with Asus tuf gaming A15 laptops or similar, kinda got panicked into buying one because I needed a new laptop and the one I actually researched and wanted from their display wasn't available (Acer aspire 5 with a ton of storage and ram and etc) and I've been feeling a lot of regret but I want to test it before I return it immediately just in case but I'm running into little issues already, and I'm just wondering if anyone has had good experiences or bad with this brand. Already it seems the fans go off ludicrously attempting small processes not even running games, I've run into issues with the volume keys and connectivity for wifi seems to be kinda bad at a distance but also possibly in general as it was struggling with even my phone hotspot directly next to it (and I know the Internet was working itself because both networks were working on my phone and even on my ancient laptop). Also unsure if it's the computer or the app but it took all day just to set up base game sims 4 and I ran into errors setting up steam and ea during so. It's not looking like a winner. However, despite not being on the compatibility list, it does *seem* to be working with my drawing tablet, on firealpaca anyway, can't test it on csp... And maybe the fans are good if I do run sims? Idk but there's things like idk if these are issues I'll encounter with any computer or if this one specifically is like this.

[lunarruled]

Tensions were running so high in that room Kyleigh was afraid she might lose her shit and let the lycan handle this. Now there would be a surprise twist no one saw coming! The dead may be walking the Earth and trying to eat the living, but no one would have suspected a giant white wolf to come out of such a tiny person. But she held the animal back knowing that it would only draw even more attention to the room and that was not a story she was ready to share with Magna just yet. After a few moments of silence there was a sudden switch in the other woman's face, as if a light bulb had just gone off in her head and honestly Kyleigh couldn't wait to hear where this was going.

She might have actually jumped a bit when Magna finally spoke but damn if it wasn't one of the best things she had heard that day. A fire exit would surely lead them to safety, they all had to lead to the outside right? Or at least close enough to a door that they could make a break for it. Well shit there was the easiest solution Kyleigh had heard for getting the hell out of this prison! Now all she had to do was wait for the other shoe to drop like it always did. The half lycan didn't want to be a downer, but with the way things were going so far she was pretty sure something was going to ruin this latest development. Magna not remembering where the exit was definitely sucked, but that was pretty normal too. No one really paid attention during those things anyway, especially a prisoner that thought she was never going to see the light of day even if there was a fire behind bars.

Kyleigh was about to tell her to relax for a second, she was going to give herself a headache or worse when Magna went back over to the screens. Now that had to mean something. The dots were connecting with each other while she just stood there trying to figure out how she was going to help in all of this. Her eyes focused on the game room, surprised they let them have pool tables in prison. Wouldn't they have considered those things weapons? Or was it just Kyleigh that thought that way? Surely they checked the inmates from head to toe when they left there just like every other room that wasn't their cell. Keeping her thoughts to herself she listened to Magna figure out the overall layout of the place, finally feeling like they had a real plan.

"Dude that's awesome! I mean not that we're in here or anything but how you figured that out. Just looks like a bunch of screens to me, I would have wasted so much time trying to find a map or something."

As Magna began to draw them a layout based on the screens, Kyleigh began to calculate which rooms had more of the dead then the others. That way they knew which ones to not go in, trying to make their escape as easy as possible. She also scanned her bag to take count of supplies and did a weapons check.

"Hey do you think we should try the kitchen to see if there's more food in there? Looks like there's only two or three of those freaks trapped inside, we could take them out. Might be able to find some water too, anything really. Or do you want to just take the straightest route to one of those maps and get the hell out of here for good?"

A thought crossed Kyleigh's mind at the idea of them being able to get out of there; would Magna be able to make it once they were in the world again? Having no idea of how long the woman had been in there before all this happened there was no way for the half lycan to assess her survival skills. Yeah she might have learned some shit being in there, but those were prison skills. Would they be able to translate into outside life? How would she handle seeing one of those dead ones in the wild? Not to mention other people. Those were all things she would have to worry about once they were free of this place, if they did get free.

The silence that followed after Kyleigh's question was all that the other woman would need to know that Magna had never been sent to the Warden's office. And even if she had, this place was so huge, she probably wouldn't be able to find her way to that office without trouble. Magna exhaled deeply as Kyleigh went on, the woman's words beginning to anger her for reasons she didn't know. She was so glad she didn't tell her to shut up, because she almost did, but she knew they couldn't afford to lose their temper and fight with each other when neither of them would make it out on their own. Think, fucking think, where the fuck are the maps..

Staring at the screen proved to be useless, Magna thought, because it was impossible to say which one of those many offices was the Warden's office. She felt like throwing something at the screens in frustration just right before it dawned upon her. "There's a map right where the fire exit is!", Magna exclaimed. She remembered that. She remembered that fire drill from three months ago, when they had accessed the backyard of the prison through the fire exit. Remembered the large map on the wall, and remembered what one of the staff had said. While rambling of the history of this place, she had mentioned the number of the exits. "We got four fire exits. If whoever built this place had any brains, there should be maps near all of them!"

Magna remained silent for a moment, a hand running through her hair as she tried to think of how to get to one of the damn exits. How stupid it was they had to navigate the prison blindly to get a map. The irony of it threatened to make her puke again.

"The gaming room", Magna began, breathless, "I was there when the alarm began to ring for our fire drill a few months ago."

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if traveling back to the past. "They had those automated instructions that would play, giving you the directions to the nearest fire exit. It was.."

Damn it. Magna didn't remember shit. Placing a frustrated hand to her aching forehead, she realized that she didn't remember the verbal instructions. All she had was her muscle memory. She knew that if she were in the hallway with the door leading to the gaming room, though, she would be able to get to that fire exit intuitively. Magna could pull off things like that - or else, she probably would've died in this shithole a long time ago.

"What I'm saying is - I know there's a fire exit near the gaming room." Magna told Kyleigh, her voice finally taking on a gentler tone as the frustration began to think now that the puzzle pieces were coming together. She pointed to a room on the screens with billiard tables. "See? That's the gaming room." Her eyes widened as she took note of how the surrounding screens looked. Lucky for her, the door was soundproof, or her loud exclamation would've drawn attention as it all began making sense to her. "Oh Jesus! The screens are arranged in a system!"

The whole fucking time, Magna had not once thought about whether those screens were randomly arranged or not. They weren't.

"The gaming room's next to Ms Kowalski's office, on the left", Magna pointed out, gesturing to the image of said woman's office, a screen which was just above the gaming room's screen and to the right. She moved her hand to point to another screen showing a prison gym. "See that room here? The gym? That gym's next to her office too, but it's located on the right. And on the screens? It's one screen to the left, and above it. It seems to follow the same patterns for the other rooms. I knew that religious room was to the library's right side - on the screens it's left to the library, and right above it. The kitchen? You can only get there through the cafeteria. On the screens, the kitchen is right below the cafeteria. The same principle applies to the way the screens of other jointed rooms like that are arranged."

Retrieving the map she'd drawn from her bag and a pencil, she glanced at her new companion. "We don't need to go running around in this shithole like blind women looking for a map. We got one, right on the screens. Time to bring it to paper."

[flythesail]

The last third of s4 is wild because it's like oh haha Nancy and Ace still have the curse to deal with, then on top of that they throw in a cover-up of an accidental murder

[brutusinthewoods]

trans charlie kelly save me

[rui-drawsbox]

HBD JAMIE. please accept this late-night thing that i prepared in a rush 😞

[malenjoyer]

Hello! I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I just wanted to tell you about how your style has inspired me so much!! Probably an ask you’ve gotten a lot, but I just have to know; how do you go at line work? It looks so good when you do it. Like, you’ve perfected where to leave gaps, what should be thick and thin, what should be subtle shading, etc. I’m so jealous! Do you have any suggestions on how to improve in this area? I’d love some insight!!

Thank you! That's very unexpected to hear but also kind of nice! :D That's the first time anyone has said that to me.

For line weight, Mark Morales covers it very well here

Aside from using line weight to show light source, you can also use it to emphasize stuff, which is what I like doing. I think it's essentially the same logic though- I just bend the rules often to make it work the way I want it to. Lots of trial and error and fixing stuff.

As for the gaps, I don't really know how to explain it without sounding a little weird. I think it's just something I developed as a habit where areas where you're supposed to connect with thin lines, I just don't finish it. Most of the time I don't finish my lines, because I don't need to. I live and embrace the karma of not connected line art when I color it.

I think my style boils down to How do I draw good with the least amount of work which sounds questionable, but the less I focus on whether each individual line connects or looks good, the more stamina I have for the rest of the drawing.

If you've got this hamster, you're like 60% of the way there.

Real answer: probably try doing gesture drawings with the least amount of lines possible with 2 minute timer to simulate what happens in my brain when I do line art. you can try to apply the line weight stuff and think okay where would I apply thickness to show shadow or emphasize curves

[bittysteam]

turning my mutuals into dragons >:] first victim: @zus-a-fungi

Zus-a-fungi the ink blooded dragon >:]

[drenched-in-sunlight]

i loooooove your re-imagining of rellana as a gorgeous masc lesbian who's got a little crush on marika she's SO real. i wish we could have gotten a cinematic for her and romina v_v

thank you! and yeah i wish we had more interaction with her and Romina (tbh im still kinda confused about what's Romina deal... Messmer and his army burned down her church, but now she's left alone to tend to the Church and guard the path to the sealing tree? who was she before she embraced the rot?? i can't seem to place her in any of the existing factions at all)

[mangywayway]

"I want to open up your ribcage, crawl inside and close the door. A niche made just for me, between your heart and your stomach".

Same version below, just without the written part ✨