#but… if it’s something that comes in multiple colors…

[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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[bitteriekitten]

yeehaw. (1/2)

synopsis — save a horse, ride a cowboy or whatever it is that they're saying out there in the wild west. OR the l&ds boys as cowboys. (1/2)

contents — fem!reader, fluff, terrible attempts at writing crack ??????, weak attempts at banter el oh el, reader has a dad who runs a ranch and she works at the ranch alongside the l&ds boys, vague descriptions of ranch life (all source material i have for the ranch lifestyle are all from the cowboy romances i've read. sry), farmhand!xavier, livestock veterinarian!zayne, (brief descriptions of) riding instructor!rafayel, sweaty stinky and shirtless l&ds cowboys, swearing, suggestive content and language, and probably so many more that i've overlooked. lmk if i missed anything !!!

featuring — xavier, zayne, & rafayel (separate fics)

notes — if infold comes out with a cowboy AU multibanner best believe i'm spending half of my life savings just to get all of them 😍 but fr, this was rly fun to make!! i've been referring to the cowboy romances that i read during my hiatus to write this, so i apologize if this isn't an exact replica of the cowboy lifestyle. u can catch sylus and caleb in part 2 <3 i had to separate them bc their AUs are different from what i cooked up for xav zayne and raf (hint: they're bull-riders eheheheh). feedback is most appreciated and if u have any more requests (or jus want to scream abt l&ds with me), you can drop them down in my ask box - no matter how unhinged or wholeseome they may be <3

check out my other stuff here ❤️‍🔥

you stumbled out of your room yawning, startled awake by multiple loud crashes down at the ranch, which was conveniently right outside your window. laughter sounded outside, followed right after by something being dropped and some colorful swearing. you vaguely remembered snoring through your father telling you that he had hired some extra hands, three or so men he’d met at a bar in town. so you couldn’t really be mad at them for being rowdy so early in the morning – they were cowboys. plus it was so early in the morning, you didn't have the energy yet to be pissed. “looks like the princess is finally awake.” your father called from the dining table. he quickly poured orange juice in an empty glass for you. “i don’t wanna hear anything about how fuckin’ loud they are down at the ranch. you should’ve been used to waking up early by now anyway.” “i wasn’t going to.” you said with an eye roll, but thanked him for the orange juice anyway. you then stepped outside, haphazardly putting on shoes to go around the back to see what the new help were doing.

Xavier stuck out like a sore thumb at the ranch, with his light hair and youthful face, but he was definitely still a sight for sore eyes out on the field. when he wasn't handling the livestock, he was moving around bales of hay and other heavy equipment, his biceps bulging and his jaw tense from the effort.

you'd spot him out on the field wearing nothing but grimy jeans, a white hat, a pair of boots, and a pair of leather gloves as he moved a new shipment of hay. it was why you were grateful for a window by your bed; you had full free access to ogle at anything and everything he did out there.

but it was also why you hated it. xavier somehow knew when you'd be watching him, like it was instinctual for him (or you were just staring too much that it bordered on creepiness). he'd catch your eye through the window just as he hauled another bale into the back of his truck, and smile when you'd quickly turn away in embarrassment.

he was a hit with the kids and the chickens, handling them their milk and feed in record time and effectively shutting them up for the next five hours. the horses were a different story with xavier, though. you often had to help him out with them, as they sometimes get a bit picky on who gets to feed and generally care for them.

you couldn't help but find it hilarious that both xavier and the horses flinch whenever they see and come into any kind of contact with each other. he's had a few extremely close calls with their back legs, but they eventually managed to warm up enough for xavier to finally begin sensitivity training for them.

speaking of sensitivity training, you were surprised to spot him outside your home about to knock on your door.

"xavier?" you called, opening the door for him before he could rap his fist on the wood.

"hey, y/n." xavier greeted you as he placed his hand over at the top of your doorframe, leaning over you with his entire height. you gulped at how he was basically towering over you, his shadow covering most of your figure.

"do you think i can borrow your dresses for the horses?" he asked, in the same tone he would use when he would ask for a basket of eggs.

you blanched, taken aback from his request as your flustered state immediately broke. "um. i don't think my dresses will fit the horses." you replied with an eyebrow raised.

"no, it's for me." xavier quickly reassured you, pointing to himself, but it did little to actually reassure you. "i'm starting to do sensitivity training on the new horses we're fostering, and i forgot to bring my usual stuff from my apartment." he said.

you scoffed at his ridiculousness, and how serious he was taking his ridiculousness. "uh... i don't think my dresses will fit you either." you replied, this time with a chuckle you couldn't hold back. your eyes flitted over his figure subconsciously, and he caught you in the act with a smirk.

"how would you know that, y/n?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his hat tilting along with the movement.

your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you turned away from him, avoiding his eyes that were suddenly very interested in you. "what color did you want that dress, xavier?" you asked instead, walking to your bedroom with him following behind with a chuckle.

xavier in a bright yellow dress over his jeans that barely zipped up his back still managed to look good. he also decided to ditch his hat for one of your ribbon headbands, and also snatched up your father's old new year's glasses from 2006. you held back a laugh behind the palm of your hand as you watched him, wanting to keep it professional for his sake at least.

armed with a folding umbrella, xavier stood by one of the brown horses, who refused to make eye contact with him. he quickly tightened his grip around the rope holding the horse, then clicked open the umbrella, to which the horse flinched back and pulling xavier with him.

you couldn't hold back your laugh when xavier stumbled at the force of the horse's movements. he looked back at you with a grin of his own.

"enjoying yourself, y/n?" he asked.

"very much so," you replied, still laughing.

it continued on for several hours, with xavier getting up to anything just to startle the poor horse. there truly was no wrong way to go about desensitizing a horse - dropping things accidentally and mixing up words managed to work anyway.

by the end of the session, the horse still flinched at the slightest of sudden sounds and movement, but it was less violent now - that's a win in xavier's book. you retired back to your front porch with a book and a pitcher of iced tea after xavier's antics got boring by the 30-minute mark.

you snorted when the cowboy walked up your porch still in your dress and other accessories in hand. he had his hat on this time instead of your headband, which contrasted greatly against the yellow dress he still had on. the dress had dirt on the edges of the skirt and mud splatters over the torso, which also splattered over the side of his neck.

it was infuriating how he still managed to look so fucking good.

"you're doing the laundry for that one." you told him instead, laughing loudly as he approached you. he took your half-empty glass of iced tea and drank all of it in one go.

"i think i managed to zip this thing up completely after i crawled in between shane's legs." xavier said as he poured himself another glass.

you snorted, "why'd you give the horse a human name?"

xavier shrugged, "he looked like a shane."

you laughed again, and xavier smiled to himself as he finished drinking up his second glass of iced tea. he set down the glass back on its coaster and turned his back to you, "can you unzip me? i cant reach the zipper now that it's zipped all the way up."

you laughed as your hands reach up to undo the zipper. it only zipped up to his lower back, right below where his hard chest couldn't be squeezed into the fabric. but miraculously it managed to zip all the way up.

"never thought i'd be the one unzipping my dress from another person." you joked. xavier turned his head to you with a raised eyebrow and one corner of his lips upturned into a smirk.

"oh? did you want me to unzip your dress for you, then?" he teased as the zipper finally opened up enough for him to take his arms out of the dress's sleeves.

"i- xavier!" you exclaimed, face slowly heating up again like he did earlier in the day.

you stared at his glistening back as he stepped out of the dress through the skirt. xavier turned to face you this time, folding your dress neatly into one hand. his head tilted to the side and a deceivingly innocent smile appeared on his face as he held out his hand for you to take.

"come on. show me where you do your laundry." he said, back to his innocent antics like he didn't just give you a heart attack.

Zayne looked like he should be the last person working at a ranch. he showed up like he stumbled upon the wrong place at the wrong time, his eyes unsure and uneasy.

but then your father quickly steered him to the heavily pregnant goat inside the barn, whose leg was sprained after it got knocked over during the night. zayne quickly got to work to bandaging up the poor mom, managing to get its leg healed and working in no time.

you often just stood by the veterinarian in astonishment, just watching zayne work his magic onto the other livestock. he was probably the only rancher you've seen who never gets plucked at by the chickens, or be head-butted by the goats, or have the horses flinch away from his touch. you've had your fair share of veterinarians at the ranch, but they were never as young and efficient (and honestly, handsome) as he was.

when he wasn't out checking up on the livestock, zayne was moving around bales of hay and heavy equipment. you didn't know why you were surprised that a man as handsome and capable as zayne had a toned body of his own - walking around the ranch with just a oil-stained wife-beater, muddy jeans, and a pair of worn down boots.

zayne was quiet, kept to himself most of the time, and did his job quickly and orderly. he was practically every rancher's wet dream in terms of being responsible. you had to give it to him for being passionate about his work; it was clear as day that your father loved having him out at the field.

safe to say, you had grown a little fond of the stoic doctor, despite his apparent disinterest in you. he only ever spared you hums and nods of acknowledgement whenever you'd assist him, and preferred to reply to you in monosyllabic sentences.

it was hilarious to think that this was literally all you had to gain your silly crush on him - just assisting him whenever he needed it and being at arm's length from him.

still, it was enough for you to have your cheeks flushing whenever you saw him, or stand beside him as he worked. because at least you had something to look forward to when waking up for another grueling day at the field. you've long accepted that he will never realistically be interested in you at all, and that everything between the two of you was to be kept strictly professional.

but if you were being honest with yourself, a tiny bit of hope was still clinging onto the tendrils of your heart - that maybe, maybe he feels the same way as you do.

it was the little things he did; it might as well be a figment of your imagination with how seldom it happens. but you know that his eyes following you from across the barn means something, or that the way his hand guides you out of the way from a fussy horse isn't just a thing he does all the time. you know, deep down in your heart, there's something there.

however, each time it happens, as you lay down on your bed every night, staring up at your ceiling in the dark, you remind yourself once more - everything between the two of you was to be kept strictly professional.

but it was on a friday evening that you and zayne were alone out on the field. the little bonfire he made crackled and popped, mixing in with the sounds of the quiet night at the countryside. you walked out of the house with candied fruits and iced tea, a small reward for the hard work done for the day. zayne accepted the fruit enthusiastically - he seemed to have a sweet tooth.

"any plans for the weekend, dr. zayne?" you asked. zayne shook his head and sipped on his iced tea.

"no - i'd rather be here." he replied.

"ah..." you nodded, a little embarrassed at how quickly he shot down your attempt in small talk. "...well, me too. the bar down town's a little grungy, anyway." you said, a feeble crack at filling up the silence between the both of you.

zayne hummed and nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "i'd rather be here with you."

the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you tried to process his words, his voice, his everything. you turned to him, unsure of what to say - what to do, "wh- what?"

zayne, to your horror, looked completely serious. what a bad time to remember that he rarely ever joked around, especially with you. "i like your company, y/n." he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. "i'd rather stay here in the quiet with you after a long day of work than to go anywhere else for the weekend."

your heartbeat quickening, you tried to think of something to say, something smart or witty to reply to his sudden confession. but you were helplessly blanking out. "o-oh. um... i wasn't expecting you to say that."

zayne cocked his head to the side, still keeping his gaze on you. "what did you expect me to say, y/n?"

you shrug with a singular shoulder, squirming helplessly underneath his gaze. "i dunno - that you're busy. or have to work overnight." literally anything else that doesn't make me hope that i have a chance for you.

"i managed to finish the day's work in record time, and i don't like working outside my work hours." zayne replied matter-of-factly, adjusting the watch on his wrist. "and that's because of your help. you help me maintain my work that i don't see the need to work overtime. at this rate, you must be sick of seeing me."

"what? no, i don't." you replied in shock.

"really?" zayne asked, his lips forming a wide smile this time. "you're by my side almost 24/7 down at the ranch at work. wouldn't you be appalled that i still want to spend my time with you after work?"

you scoffed in disbelief, frazzled by his sudden confessions coming at you from all sides. you avoid his eyes, still intently staring at you, burning holes into your skin at this point. "i'm more surprised that you want to see me all the time." you said softly.

"why, do you want to see me all the time?"

you hadn't noticed that zayne had moved to sit right beside you. you flinched at the warm shoulder that bumped against yours, rendering you breathless as you faced him, your eyes finally meeting his.

no words were exchanged. you hoped your your hammering heartbeat was enough of an answer for him. no words were actually exchanged, as you were too busy leaning in to kiss him while the bonfire slowly burned out into the starry night.

Rafayel liked to show up at the ranch early in the morning. while you were still busy catching up on sleep, he's already working on a few stuff around the barn. you were often not-so-rudely woken up by some drilling and hammering down at the ranch, and more often than not it was because rafayel saw something wrong with the equipment and thought that it needed some quick fixing.

it quickly became part of your routine to cuss him out through your window.

"can't you keep that shit down?! it's ass crack o'clock!" you yelled with your eyes still struggling to open all the way. rafayel paused from hammering at the fence he just fixed and turned to you with one eye closed and a delighted grin.

"sorry that i'm trying to fix the squeaking fence you were complaining about the other day, cutie!" he replied sarcastically, then proceeded to ignore your demands to continue hammering on the wood.

it went on like that as he got around the ranch. you'd complain about how loud he was being, and he'd have a witty quip for you already locked and loaded. you did your best to have as little interaction with him at the ranch as possible, but with how often your tasks coincided with his, it was almost impossible not to run into him.

he always had that exasperating, devastatingly handsome smile on his face whenever you cross paths at the ranch. with your eyes downcast, you always tried to pretend you hadn't even noticed him, doing something on your phone or checking if you'd stepped on something as he passed by you. you'd let out a sigh of relief as he just leaves without saying anything else to you, but you don't miss the cheeky laugh that trails after you.

"honestly cutie, you're like, my favorite co-worker." rafayel declared after hauling the trash out on the back. you scoffed at his words, appalled that he'd even say that out loud. "i'm the only lunatic who's crazy enough to work the same shifts as you." you replied.

"exactly. great minds think alike, no?" rafayel winked at you, lurching your heart to your throat in surprise.

"you're a dumbass."

your father quickly got rafayel to do horseback riding lessons for visitors and tourists at the ranch - he was young and had a boyish charm to him that hollywood liked to give cowboys in their movies. children loved the friendly cowboy with the winning smile, who has a steady hand over their backs and another on the horse's reins.

but he was especially a hit with the women, who bat their eyelashes at the cowboy and squirm in delight when he tells them to hold onto the reins tighter with a firm voice. either rafayel was clueless to their blatant flirting, or he just didn't care. the amount of filth these women had spewing out their mouths was honestly laughable.

and you don't blame them at all. rafayel was indeed gorgeous, despite how infuriating he was to talk to most of the time. but you don't go around telling that kind of information to anybody else; he'd have a field day if he finds out that his "favorite co-worker" thought he had pretty eyes and soft hair that she'd like to touch.

nothing ever really comes out of the flirting, though. unlike the average cowboy, rafayel didn't care much about attracting the most amount of admirers. he's always hard at work, like he's got something to prove. he fixes leaking pipes, screws and unscrews things, and can paint murals on the back of barns like nothing. he has his eyes set on something else, it seemed.

"cutie! wait up!"

just as you were about to climb up into your truck, rafayel caught up with you. he was sweating all over, his clothes stained with oil and mud, and a part of his cheek covered in streaks of mud. he furiously wiped away the dirt on his face with a damp towel as he approached you. despite all the grime that covered him, he still managed to smell like expensive perfume.

"you stink, rafayel." you said despite that, moving away from him. rafayel gave you a little shrug and swept a hand through his hair, slicking it back with his sweat.

"some twin boys almost fell off a horse. somebody had to hold them away from the mud." he replied. he pointed to your truck with his thumb, grinning widely. "can i drive us to dinner?"

you raised an eyebrow at him, suspicious of his motives, to which he pouted and pulled out his ridiculous puppy-dog face at you. "please, y/n? i want that steak you told me to get last time i went with your dad." he pleaded.

"you want to go get steak without your boss?" you asked with a humorless laugh, turning away from him to open the door the driver's seat. "you asking me out on a date, rafayel?"

"duh." rafayel said, leaning on your truck with one arm against the side. he held out on hand and began listing down things with his fingers, "i'll pay for our meal, i'll be the best gentleman, and i'll take you home back home before 10. promise!"

you blanched at his insistence - you were truly only joking with him about the date, but whatever he's offering sounded really good. this was one of the many times he's tried to take you out somewhere, and you've only ever brushed him off every time he did so.

you glanced at rafayel's face, whose smile grew wider the more the silence stretched on. he leaned in closer, giving you a closer look at his handsome smile. you felt your resolve slowly crack away; you truly couldn't stand this cowboy...

"if you stop touching my radio, we'll get steak." you deadpanned.

"i'll skip only one song, cutie. just one, then i'll never judge your music taste again." rafayel bargained with his hands clasping together. you rolled your eyes at his ridiculousness, then tilted your head to your truck, signaling him to get in.

rafayel cheered as he quickly climbed up the driver's seat. you walked around to get to the front seat, shivering at the cold air gusting from the air-conditioning. rafayel slumped back into his seat, relieved to be away from the heat of the afternoon sun.

"your truck's soooo nice, y/n." he groaned in satisfaction, "you've got functioning air-conditioning, soft cushions, little to no scratches on the truck. you're a wonderful driver."

you snorted as you grabbed your box of CDs, looking through your selection. "if you actually know how to take care of your truck, you wouldn't be complimenting it like this." you said.

"but how else am i going to have a chance to be this close to you, cutie?" rafayel teased, sitting up straight this time and turning the truck on. dumbstruck at his response, you turned to him with your mouth agape. "are you dumb?" you asked.

rafayel shook his head. "nope, just think you're pretty."

you choked on a gasp. "rafayel!"

he laughed out loud as he put the truck in drive. "what?" he asked, pretending to look innocent.

you scoffed, "you're ridiculous."

"you like it."

you didn't respond, afraid that you'll say that you do.

taglist 𓂃۶ৎ jus tagging random users <3 hope u enjoy!!!

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[vxnillabxn]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, suggestive! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ nsfw, mdni! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚everytime i try to write pure fluff about this man, it always starts going south !! (hehehe) anyway, he's so cute, he'd totally color coordinate your outfits, even your pajamas omgggg

it was funny at first.

you mentioned a bracelet you thought was cute, and the next day, you found five variations of said bracelet on your nightstand. all in different colors.

then, you were browsing through an online shop and added a coat to your wishlist.

that same night, you found two boxes on your bed, each with the same coat, but in two different sizes. he knows you like wearing fitting clothes, but there are days when you love to be swallowed by soft fabric.

however... this last time felt a bit excessive.

you were looking for snow boots, since you were going to the north together. you briefly mentioned your current boots were old, and sylus didn't hesitate to buy not one, not two, but four pairs: black, brown, deep burgundy, and beige.

“sylus, this isn't—”

he just kisses your temple.

“are they not to your liking, kitten?”

you sigh, staring at the mountain of shoe boxes on top of your bed.

“sylus, this is excessive. it's overconsu—”

he kisses you again, and this time, on the lips.

“there's no such thing as excess when it comes to you, love.”

you look up at him with a soft frown, but you know better than to protest. soon enough, you both start getting ready for bed. he's already at your side, helping you undress.

before you can walk to the closet, he clicks his tongue, one brow arching in that slow, deliberate way.

“easy there, kitten. it's playtime.”

that sends a shiver down your spine. his voice… low, calm, velvety. is he going to…?

but no. he turns around and starts picking out pajamas. he holds pieces up, inspects the fabric, carefully looking through every set you own —and that he's bought for you.

ah. playtime, as in dressing-you-up-like-a-mannequin playtime.

you giggle but stay still, obedient, as he slips the soft nightwear onto your body. then, he changes his mind, slides it off, trying another set.

that's when he notices you actually do have the same pieces in multiple colors and sizes. he doesn't care, of course. he'd buy anything for you, if you so much as glanced at it.

instead of getting impatient, he seems... amused. there's a slight grin on his lips as he watches how cooperative you're being: quiet, waiting.

he'll reward you for it later.

finally, he picks up a black button-up shirt. it's his. sleek, tailored, and far too elegant to waste on sleep —but he'd rather see you in it than at any gala or important occasion.

after all, nothing is more important to him than you.

he puts it on you slowly, long fingers expertly working the buttons, one by one. he hums in satisfaction before placing a slow, lingering kiss on your lower lip.

his eyes are darker now. intense. there's something intimate —almost reverent—, in how he handles you. especially when he's dressing you in his clothes.

“you know, sweetie? you might be right.”

he whispers while cupping your left cheek. you nuzzle against his palm.

“you think so, sy?”

he chuckles lowly, leaning down to rub his nose against yours.

“mhm. i'll stop buying you clothes,” he says, before scooping you up in one swift motion. your thighs wrap around his waist instinctively. “i'll keep you in my clothes instead.”

and with that, he carries you off. it soon becomes a display of soft touches, easy strength on his end, and a possessive yet adoring glint in his eyes.

honestly? either end of the spectrum doesn't sound so bad anymore.

[fatcopia]

The ghouls!!!

I'll be drawing the ghoulettes next!

Some hcs under the cut, some NSFW (op is a fetish/nsfw blog please be advised!!)

General:

-They dont really *have* genders/sexes in the human way but ones that live on earth and adopt human traits do generally present masc or fem or both or neither etc etc. They're shapeshifters too so its really fluid overall. This is my horny author way of going "anybody can have whatever junk is best for the time and anybody can get pregnant"

-Theyre shape shifters but they do have like a limit to that. Like theyre not gonna turn into animals or objects but they can change things about their appearances.

-Fire ghouls are generally leaders of their packs with serious demeanors.

-Quints all have a white streak in their hair and are generally caretakers of their packs, ranges from parental, to brotherly/sisterly, to body guard-like.

-Multis are simultaneously "combos" of other elements and their own thing. They're the least frequent type of ghoul. They can have multiples of body parts but its generally smaller parts (i.e. multiple eyes, horns, tail tips, but its exceptionally rare for them to have multiple sets of arms, legs, full 2nd tails, or heads or something)

-Multi ghouls are the rarest type of ghoul but end up in the modern band lineup the most for their versatile musical abilities and their beautiful voices :)

-Earth ghouls are the only ones that have "fur" to me, but its not long or anything. Its a very velvety soft peach fuzz that covers their body. It makes them slightly waterproof. The other elements have normal body hair patterns and textures.

-Earth ghouls can be inclined more towards plants or more towards rocks. Some are purely planty and love gardens and tea making, some are purely rocky and love crystals and hiking.

-Water ghouls are smooth like sharks and tend to have big floppy ears and tails that function like fins would. Genitalia can be more mammalian or more tentacle like depending on whatevers hottest to me at the time.

-Ghouls mostly wear monochrome colors, primarily black or grey

-There are exceptions to literally everything I said these are all just stereotypes and what's "typical" of a given element

-I AM A HORNS AND TAIL PIERCINGS BELIEVER

(Side note genuinely can you guys believe i was never ever a homestuck fan. You'd think I was with this design pattern of "Grey, color coded, only wears black, unique horn shapes".)

----

Dew

Arthritic, uses a cane sometimes especially after breaking his foot and especially if its cold outside

3rd oldest (behind Aether and Mountain). Was summoned in the 1800s. Doesn't remember what he originally did.

Very classic cartoon devil shapes to his features i.e. short pointed horns, arrow shaped tail, a mustache he occasionally styles, sharp cheekbones, etc

Falls into "pack leader fire" stereotype. Big tsundere also. Pretends to be annoyed with his pack but would be so lost without them.

----

Phantom

His "caretaker" type as a Quint is more akin to brotherly versus parental

Youngest. Summoned in the 2010s as a guitar tech and took over Aether's role after his retirement.

Hypermobile, uses braces on his elbows, knees and fingers

Very small and skinny for a quintessence since he's still really young. Will grow up to be shaped more like Omega and Aether :)

----

Rain

Most gender fluid of the "male" ghouls, presents androgynously

2nd youngest, summoned in the 2010s specifically to be the bass player during Copia's reign.

Secret troublemaker. Comes off as the calmest and most level headed but enables Phantom and Dew in their stupidity. Never gets in trouble for it because he's smarter than them and gets away with things.

His horn piercings were a gift from the girls for his summoning anniversary, theyre a long chain of sapphires and diamonds meant to look like rain over his head. Usually only worn for rituals.

----

Swiss

Combo of earth and quintessence. Got the protective nature and white streak(s. Plural. Because multi) of a quint and a connection with crystals/rocks of an earth.

Changes his hair often! Generally likes to keep it long but loves to experiment.

Multiple horns and tail tips. When Phantom was first summoned the other ghouls would fuck with him and tell him Swiss had 2 dicks and 2 assholes. (Dicks thing was true. The assholes thing was not.)

4th oldest (behind Aether, Mountain, and Dew), summoned in the late 1960s as a ghoul writer. Wrote some stuff for Nihil that unfortunately never ended up on a studio recording. Left touring to go back to writing.

----

Aether

His "caretaker" type as a quint is more parental

Excellent cook, hoards snacks in hidden locations to give them to other ghouls and papa on the spot. Did it very often on tour but the habit never left.

Oldest, was summoned a LOOOOONG time ago. Thousands of years old (he thinks. Hes lost track of time by this point.)

Ghouls dont have siblings but he and Omega consider eachother brothers.

Retired and went back to kitchen work, does some guitar tech stuff still as well.

----

Mountain

Weird girl. Big giant round eyeballs like a scared deer that never seem to blink. Not based on a deer though. He's more like a goat if anything.

Half planty earth ghoul half rocky earth ghoul. Loves collecting rocks and crystals but also keeps plants.

His velvety earth ghoul fur is mostly on his ears. Dew used to rub the fur between his fingers to soothe himself when he was first summoned and still does when hes in distress.

2nd oldest right behind Aether, was summoned several hundreds of years ago for, you guessed it, landscaping.

[muffinsin]

Hello muffin, here it is, if the link doesn't work, part 1 of my request is in masterlist 6 https://www.tumblr.com/muffinsin/753818064610607104/can-you-please-write-dimitriscu-sisters-with-child?source=share

Thank you, hon! :) for everyone here too, part 1 is linked here and leads to Bela taking in child reader

Let’s get into it :)

Masterlists

Bela and you quickly become utterly inseparable

Having been alone and scared for so long, you only very rarely let go of your new mama

In fact, if only it was up to you, she's sure you would cling to her nonstop

The first few days at the castle are- difficult

She's fiercely protective of you, even earning herself multiple jokes and a lot of giggling from her sisters, her title as the "headstrong", perhaps even "tame" Dimitrescu, who generally only strikes for a good reason, quickly slipping from her

She doesn't understand why she's this protective of you, allowing no one but herself to hold you or even touch you

Once, she even snarled at Daniela for almost lifting you right out of her arms, her sharp teeth bared, her frown only disappearing when you cooed and giggling, your tiny, soft fingers curiously dipping against her sharp, fang-like teeth

She has found out; you quite like them

When she yawns, she usually has to catch your finger before you stick it in her mouth, curious to feel the sharp teeth again

When she comes out the bath, she often finds you in front of her mirror, cooing and giggling with your mouth open wide, your fingers tapping your own teeth experimentally, as if hoping yours might turn out as sharp as hers

She reassures you; they will grow strong, and sharp, in time, often tapping your teeth playfully when you open your mouth wide and whine, as though unhappy that they're not like that now!

After all, you want to look like your mama now!

Following this, you often get a laugh out of her when she finds you happily jumping on her bed, your body practically swallowed in one of her dresses or blouses, even, your hands- covered by the sleeves, usually- flapping happily as you giggle

She's always quick to pick you up, not wanting you to fall

She notices, early on, she is quite the protective and doting mother, something she used to always roll her eyes at when she herself was young

Now, she's overly careful with you, often checking in multiple times to make sure all is well

You're fed? Good, but she will keep a few snacks in her office just in case you become hungry again

You're comfortably warm? Good! Though, an extra blanket on her drawer doesn't hurt, just in case she notices you shiver at night

Speaking of that, you insist on sleeping with your mama, whining and crying thick tears when she tries introducing you to your own room

And while it's right next to hers anyway, it feels like far too much in your little head, like your mama is a hundred miles away

Perhaps, something to work on in the future

She argues, you're much too young to have a room to yourself, anyway, ignoring the fact most your age- given the opportunity- would jump at the idea of not having to stay with their mama anymore

Most days are spent in her office, really, but you don't mind

You like her office, even

It's warm, and quiet, so unlike the village

It's bathed in soft colors that relax you, even as she allows you to bring your new toys and blankets in for a little bit of color

And speaking of just that, your mama- and her mama especially- have not been shy about showering you in gifts

You coo in wonder each time, the village and forest offering little to no things to toy with

Your mama eagerly makes up for that

She buys you plenty things to keep you company, especially while she works, even as she always has her eyes on you

She set up your area in her office early on, a speck of colour

Your blankets, laid out on the floor, papers and canvas for you to play with. She always praises you for your work, no matter what, and you always burst with pride when you see your mama take your drawings and paintings- even if it's merely your hands and roughly drawn flowers and stick people- and store them in her drawer or set them up on her desk

During her breaks she often joins you on the ground, something entirely unheard of for the blonde. That being said, you change her, and for once in her mind: she doesn't mind being changed

She often sits and giggles with you, playing with other toys of yours- stuffed animals and- mainly thanks to Cassandra- stuffed out animals Bela made sure to wash over and over again

Much unlike others, you don't mind

You don't mind when your mama snarls at people and hurts them to protect you, don't mind when your- she taught you this word!- aunts squish your cheeks with bloodied hands and kiss your tiny forehead, leaving a bloody lipstick mark behind your mama often scowls at and wipes away with a handkerchief, insisting she is trying to keep you clean, much unlike how they are

You only giggle at this, however, often snarling playfully without quite understanding why one snarls. It's another thing you picked up from Cassandra, and another thing your mama frequently growls at her for, insisting she's a bad influence, yet only very rarely telling her to shoo when she comes near you

You find; you're over the moons with not only mama, but your new family as a whole

You love them, and know they love you

Still, you know: you're forever your mama's favorite, no matter what

And she will always love and care for you

[crystalreydraws]

I absolutely love your art style. I want to start to draw but I don't know where to start. do you have any tips? pointers? I would really appreciate that 🥺

I admire your work so much. 🥺

Based on my own experience, if you have absolutely zero drawing experience, I’d suggest picking your favorite manga and learning to draw the characters. Start with sketchbooks. There is no need to worry about digital art yet.

Study the official art style and pay attention to how they draw hair, eyes, body proportions, clothing folds, shoes, side and back views of human, linework, shadows, and so on. Try drawing different characters too. This helps train your observation skills, sense of line weight, and muscle memory.

Once you’re familiar with that, take what you’ve learned and move on to another favorite manga. Adapt to its art style as well, and figure out which parts you like better than the previous one. Absorb those elements and combine them. Then repeat the process again and again.

Eventually, you’ll develop your own drawing method, inspired by a variety of sources. This is important, because you should always be inspired by more than just one.

And that’s all you need to know to get started!

What comes next is building your knowledge.

Once you feel confident enough to take on more of a challenge, you can start exploring things like human anatomy, composition, color theory, and so on. You can always search for references on Pinterest, just type something like anatomy reference.

For anatomy study, try doing pose studies using real human photos or action figure references. Focus on analyzing muscles, gesture flow, and shape language. Drawing character turnarounds can help too. It works best if you have an action figure you can take pics from different angles.

You can even make it more fun by turning your studies into fanart. Use the pose for a character you like, and gather extra references for clothing and body types to support your imagination. Always find multiple references and combine them. The right visual reference can save you hours of struggling with how to draw something.

If you feel tired while learning, it’s totally okay to take a break. Draw whatever makes you happy, or don’t draw at all. Just rest and come back when you’re ready.

Or try learning something else that sparks your interest. Maybe your strength lies in color sense or composition. You don’t have to master every skill. Just keep going.

Also, if you’re already at this stage and want to get into digital art, you can consider investing in a PC or laptop if you don’t already have one, a tablet, and a drawing software like Clip Studio Paint or anything else that works for you.

That’s all. Good luck and start drawing! 🙌

[papercranesandinkstains]

And to piggy back off of this because I genuinely feel like this answer is straight forward enough, but there is a VAST difference in the romanization of these kinds of characteristics and someone acknowledging them but making it seem like something that is not desirable. Every time you step onto a platform, you are putting yourself and your words up for show (whether you want to or not) and the court of public opinion is VERY easily swayed. If you present a dark topic as some kind of love story to aspire to, people are going to crave it because humans crave community. You are presenting this type of romance as something that is acceptable and it is going to shape how people view the relationship.

Every single action has a consequence whether it is positive or negative. Fanfic is a freeing place because you can write what you want, but once you put something out to the public, you are opening the gates for criticism. There is a way to address heavy hitting/dark/sensitive topics that can accurately portray a character while also holding the character accountable for their actions and not dismissing them. Romanticizing horrible people by dismissing or making their bad actions seem endearing gives the standard that that kind of treatment is acceptable/dreamy.

As someone who was in an extremely abusive/sexually abusive relationship with someone who attempted to kill me multiple times, I have seen how easy it is to sway people to see a character with similar qualities to Rafe through rose colored glasses and excuse them because they love him or because he is attractive. All it takes is a few words or a smile, and someone will be completely in love with how someone is treated whether it is good or bad. THAT is the issue with the characterization of Rafe is that you do NOT have to ignore who he is to write him canonically, but you also have to understand that writing him that way and allowing it to be seen in a positive light creates a space of yearning for readers who want to see that kind of treatment. There is nothing romantic about abuse/negligence/racism/sexism. Those things can often exist in a story, but they should not be aspirations.

And this is coming from someone who has read MANY dark/dead dove fics because fanfic is an art form. It is a form of expression, and it can be incredibly freeing/intriguing to read or write about. HOWEVER, you are still responsible for the affect/messages that your writing is sending to the audience. Glorifying or making light of the situation to try to further a love story is where the issue comes in.

There is a way to be interested and try to follow along with the canon of a character because let’s face it, Rafe is not a good guy. This past season he was more fanfic-centered in his characterization, but before he had several underlying themes that should not be seen as desirable in a partner. You can acknowledge him for exactly who he is, you can have yourself or a character fall in love with him exactly where he is it, but the implications that can come from romancing the idea of him vs showing why those things are not traits to look for are something as a writer, you will have to answer to whether you really want to or not. No matter how you mean it, it can come off as tone deaf or as you romanticizing characteristics that should not be made endearing because of the hurt they cause.

You are ALWAYS free to scroll, but also ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away. This isn’t an issue with the freedom of creation or expression, it is with the implications and how this can be misconstrued to the audience.

That’s all for this Ted Talk because I genuinely don’t understand why this is even a discussion being had anymore. You have the freedom to create anything you want, but you don’t have the freedom to receive no criticism or encouragement. That is unfortunately what happens on a public platform. Learning, growing, and correcting is a part of life. Nobody is being shamed, this is a growth opportunity.

i have a question (please don't misinterpret im JUST JUST JUSTTTT ASKING PLEASE DONT KILL ME)

why are you trying to stop people from writing canon rafe? its fiction, so not a gloification. im sure since we're all adults we can tell that men who act like rafe are DICKS irl. but... fanfiction is writing. witing is an art. art is an interpretation. rafe is... not a good person, but he IS an interesting character tho. writing fanfics isn't about being all about bad behavior but you're looking at stories and emotions from different perspectives. when one writes canon rafe even if its smut you're not excusing him being a horrible bitch. ppl write what's fascinating to them and it's a good way to understand very nuanced characters.

perhaps... you should know how to separate fiction and art from real life (NOT BEING RUDE.)

everyone is technically allowed to interpret a character how they want and you're knda trying to shut that down which just limits creativity and community.

if you or others don't like how rafe is portrayed in canon fics, thats cool and you can avoid 'em! but trying to shame others and telling them to only write fanon rafe is just unfair and not nessecary.

hi! i never try to kill anyone who comes in with genuine curiosity and open-mindedness so do not worry, you're off my list (for now... hehe)

why are you trying to stop people from writing canon rafe? its fiction, so not a gloification.

i'm not! i love writing canon!rafe. i love writers who explore the complexity of his nuanced characterization. i admit, here and now, and over and over again, he is a bad person. his subtext is filled with prejudices—classism, racism, sexism to his own sister—but i never excuse that behavior. i never hide behind the veil that just because you're writing canon does not mean you're not subjected to criticism. additionally, just because you write canon!rafe does not mean you have to romanticize the attributes of his character.

fanfiction is writing. witing is an art. art is an interpretation.

you're right! fanfic is writing. fanfic is free. but that doesn't make absolve it from its problem. that's the beautiful thing about complex topics. two things can be right at once. you can write whatever you want. but that doesn't mean you're free from the criticism of your own writing. i strongly stand by that.

you should know how to separate fiction and art from real life (NOT BEING RUDE.)

i do. fiction and art are separate from real life. if you were here a while back, i even wrote a thought piece on rape and non-con in fanfic. i was advocating for people to have the right to write them. i explained, in explicit detail why people write it the way that they do. but i still stand by what i believe: just because you write a taboo topic, and you're in a fanfic space, does not mean you are absolved of the consequences and callouts of the interpretation of your fics by your audience. intents ≠ actions. and to completely disassociate those two, if you really want to be nuanced, is impossible. i remember reading an article where a serial killer admitted that he got some of the ideas for his murders from a skywars movie: the scene where leia was held up in chains. it was meant to be misogynistic and demeaning; so art and media do have an impact on real life.

everyone is technically allowed to interpret a character how they want and you're knda trying to shut that down which just limits creativity and community.

the thing is, i'm not. never once did i told them to stop writing it. i said to address it. the problem i have with it is the inherent romanticization of the characters. i have read dark, dead doves do not eat fics with rafe cameron, and i never called out those writers. why? because they never framed it as something readers should want. the audience should like. the audience should accept. it was narratively framed as wrong. that's how you go about writing a nuanced character with taboo topics. when you're putting misogynistic!rafe into a setting, and you framed it through a rose-colored glass, where it's actually acceptable, endearing, and romantic, that's the problematic aspect of it. you didn't do your due diligence as a writer to address that.

if you or others don't like how rafe is portrayed in canon fics, thats cool and you can avoid 'em! but trying to shame others and telling them to only write fanon rafe is just unfair and not nessecary.

i do avoid them. i don't read them. i didn't even @ any of the writers. this was something said in my own blog, in my own space, using the general rafe tag as anyone else. you coming onto my blog to tell me to avoid this was unnecessary. i did. if you're applying the same logic of your argument to me: you're coming into a space where you should've avoided my words. you should've "avoid" me. you wanted to come on my blog to let your feelings be heard, and i'm hearing them. but don't ever say that i didn't do my own due diligence. i did.

[sleepylostboy]

I think if this Christmas taught me anything, it’s that my family has absolutely no idea what colors I like

[egophiliac]

CROWLEY SSR THOUGHTS

there is zero basis for this, but I can't get this thought of my head

I don't know why I decided to draw it this way

[mildcicada]

[neriyon]

Small test run of Infinity Nikki done! Mostly just finished the tutorial (and kicked Momo around), but it so far it seems pretty fun~

Also photo mode is so nice ♥

[red-dyed-sarumane]

Do you have any art advice? Like how didn't you get discouraged until you became this good? Because every time I try I am discouraged because I can't move the image in my head into the real world.

this isnt just for drawing but really any artistic endeavor but you need to be aware of your own skill set. this isnt a place for "my work is garbage" or any of those negative thoughts, you should try without judgement to sit down and see where you're at. and from there you choose one single thing, nothing too big or broad of an idea, to work on differently in your next piece. "i want to draw faces better" is really broad and vague, but "i like how this other artist does eyebrows" for example gives you a pretty set idea to work towards. and once you've found a way to do that one thing in a way u like you can move on to the next thing. and it might seem like its going to take forever to do it that way but once you start its not that bad.

this is going to be disappointing but i also think of what i want to do in my own art style. i havent had the feeling in years of being unable to pull something off because i know what my skill set is and i think in those terms. i work with them not around them. and even then i dont think too concrete i leave room for error and possibly even taking a different direction half way through. if any thing the original idea is a suggestion.

another note you need to learn how to use references. everyone loves to say to use references & never says how to actually do that. using references isn't just copying what you see. using references is looking at objects and colors in relation to each other & how they interact. if u can look at a shirt someones wearing & paint all the wrinkles while looking at it thats great. but really using your references is noticing where that shirt is catching on the person's body to cause those wrinkles. its looking at something in a certain lighting and seeing how the light scatters on it and what other colors are nearby to affect that. especially with shiny things like metals so much of the "shading" in metals is actually reflection of whats around it so copying 1:1 from a reference you find online or take yourself might still not look right in your art. likewise with how light scatters in liquids & gem stones. it's going to depend on what environment its in so copying a reference exactly is only going to get you so far. the more attention you pay to what's going on in your references the more you can play around & still get good results & depending on your memory you might not even need to use them as much as you might think.

as for how i dont get discouraged my love for my subject matter far outweighs however i feel about the end results of whatever i do. i mess up a lot and things look bad & wonky a lot. even more so if im desperate for a good result & trying to rush it. all my best art comes from when i sit down & forget time exists. BUT!!! but!! even when u do things in a way u dont like don't just put yourself down and give up. you can criticize yourself but ONLY if its something that will help you. "my art is garbage" doesnt help anything & is blatantly untrue. "this doesnt look good because i put the eyes too far apart" constructive, direct, that's something you can keep in mind for next time and it WILL lead to improvement if you do. you also don't need to ever actually say that out loud or on your posts if you post your art. there are a lot of things you'll notice about your own art because you're the one who did it and you know you could've done it better or differently. your audience is not going to pick up on it 9/10 times and anyone who's going to harass you about your art not being perfect is not worth your time or energy. and of course don't forget to reward yourself. it can't all be things you need to improve on. don't forget to pick out parts you DO like how u did. something you think is cute or pretty or cool or had a nice angle. no matter how small it is. if you start putting weight/importance on things u liked doing or think turned out well instead of dwelling on everything that went wrong it Will get more fun & rewarding.

[sydmarch]

slay the princess extremely good game

[aromanticasterisms]

greek themed elysian realm star rail arc i am awake and LISTENING

[runawayfuture]

why shading (top left) is important versus flat coloring (bottom right)

(aka i put way too much effort into my coloring pages)

[dedisgone]

damn.

me? posing ANOTHER reference? oh, id never

[bucky (the deer hybrid down at the bottom) belongs to my lovely wife /p @scrumptowne]