#blog of split sheets

[prentissluvr]

hold me, it's enough — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, descriptions of physical assault, small injuries, blood, pet names (baby, honey), barely edited, 1.6K words. requested !

prompt : "who did this to you?"

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the cruelest part about tonight is the way you have to call sam to come pick you up, like you’re some child who’s gotten sick at school. it’s embarrassing and makes you feel guilty because your call woke him up. he’d gone back to the motel early to sleep after a long hunt; took the impala after dean disappeared with a girl, leaving you alone in the bar with your own car in the parking lot.

he answers after four rings, voice a little husky from sleep as he says your name questioningly into the speaker.

“hey, sam,” you respond, sighing quietly to yourself, “sorry to wake you, but i– i can’t drive myself back to the motel… any chance you could pick me up?”

you hear the rustle of sheets from the other end of the line, and you assume it’s sam sitting up. “yeah, of course,” he agrees easily, already up and looking for socks to put on. you can’t see the light frown on his face as he picks up on all of the little nuances in your voice. “you don’t sound drunk. baby, is everything alright?”

you figured he’d ask, but the expectation doesn’t remedy your hesitation to answer. “i… sort of got into a fight. hit my head real hard and i don’t think i should be driving.”

the split second after your answer is enough to show you sam’s surprise. “jesus, honey, are you okay?” he asks, worry making his voice thick.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. promise,” you reassure him. he takes a moment to consider your words; whether you’re lying for his sake or if you’re actually okay. your voice is clear and, though a little tired, sounds like you’re just fine. you don’t seem dizzy or out of sorts, and sam takes that as a good sign considering it was your head that you hit. so, he relaxes just a touch as he climbs into the impala. you hear the car door opening and shutting through the phone speaker.

“so, you got into a bar fight?” he asks, a touch of amusement in his voice. he’s still worried about you, but that wasn’t news he expected to hear tonight, or really any night at all. sure, you never back down from a fight, but you’re certainly not the type to start one either.

you roll your eyes a little at his tone. “sort of. the guy deserved it. i elbowed him in the guts and he shoved me. he looked utterly terrified when i stood back up and he saw the look in my eyes,” you describe, humor finding its way into your voice at the end.

sam wants to give a little laugh at your joke, tell you that he can imagine the man running away with his tail between his legs just from the look in your eye, but he’s still stuck on the fact that he shoved you. on the fact that he did something that warranted you to resort to physical violence. 

he clenches his jaw before asking, “did he try to touch you?” his voice is low as he presses down on the gas harder.

wishing your comment about the man’s scared look would have been successful in distracting sam, you sigh. sometimes, sam is too damn smart and he thinks too damn much.

“he got a little handsy, but i took care of it,” you reassure him. “it’s okay. pretty sure i scared him off so bad he left the bar.”

sam grits his teeth, trying not to react too strongly in a way he knows you won’t like. “i’m gonna beat his sorry ass.” he settles for angry, but not too much, and not even possible since the fucker’s already gone.

“yeah, i know,” you sigh into the phone.

the bar’s only ten minutes from the hotel, and sam gets there faster than that. he walks into the establishment, eyes scanning the crowded place to find your familiar silhouette seated at the bar, your left elbow resting on the counter and holding a rag and plastic bag filled with ice to your head. he rushes towards you, swiftly maneuvering between tables and moving bodies.

he says your name a few steps before he reaches you, as to not startle you, placing a worried hand on your shoulder blade when you turn to look at him. he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. there’s drying blood streaking down the side of your face, and your eyes betray that you’re much more shaken by the incident than you were letting on over the phone. he curses your talent in sounding much more okay than you really are. his jaw clenches and his eyes are worried and angry.

“who did this to you?” his voice is rough, the words forced out through gritted teeth as he fights to stay gentle. you sigh at his words, able to tell immediately how angry he’s feeling.

“he’s gone now,” you say gently, secretly relishing in how protective he is of you. you instantly feel safer, much more secure with him in front of you. “i’m okay,” you say, knowing he needs to hear those words. “i promise. you know that head wounds always look worse than they are. and i wasn’t lying when i said that my glare scared him completely off.”

sam wants to tell you that he’s going to find this sorry excuse of a man, that he’s going to yell at him and hurt him and show him how horrible of a mistake he made by messing with you, but he won’t say all of that. though he’ll certainly think it. he is thinking it. but he knows that’s not what you care to hear, knows that anger is not the face you wish for him to wear.

“i believe that,” he finally settles on saying, voice softening just a little. “let’s get out of here. clean you up. there’s blood all over your face.”

you nod. another time you might quip ‘i know. it’s my face, i can feel it.’ today, you just let him place his hand on the small of your back and lead you out to the familiar black car. neither of you have to say anything to agree that you’ll come back for your own car in the morning.

sam’s silence is large, and yours is heavy. they stretch alongside each other, running out on the road with the spinning tires and escaping through the half open windows so that when sam sits you down on the edge of your shared bed, they’ve almost run out. each silence lasts until he sits next to you, first aid kit in hand, and he gently cups your face to turn it towards him. your eyes are a little shiny, and his face softens.

“i’m sorry this happened,” he whispers. “i shouldn’t have left you alone.” that’s when it hits you how guilty he’s been feeling this whole time, thinking about how nothing would’ve happened if he stayed.

“no,” you shake your head. “no, sam, this wasn’t your fault.” your voice is full of conviction as you say this, because it’s true. “you couldn’t have known this would happen. you only left because you know that i can take care of myself, and i did. i took care of it, and it’s over now. and i’m okay.”

“honey,” he chides, wishing you’d admit to him how you really feel. though he might start crying himself if he has to keep looking at you with so much blood on your face, so he takes the wet cloth he prepared in the bathroom and begins to gently wipe at your bloodied skin. the redness comes off easily, but he still hates the sight of it on the white cloth. “just because we deal with monsters and demons and horrible shit all the time doesn’t mean that creepy, pushy men are any less gross and scary than they really are. just because you can deal with it, doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”

you purse your lips, then swallow against tears. the feeling of that man’s hand grabbing your wrist hard is still so visceral, and the way that you’d been so taken by surprise that his strength sent you sprawling to the floor still makes you feel sort of embarrassed. and sam’s soft hands and gentle reassurances are so contrasting, so good to you that it makes you a little emotional. 

unconsciously, your own hand drifts to the opposite wrist where the man grabbed you, the sleeve of your dress shirt wrinkled and skin tender from how strong his grip was. the movement catches sam’s eye, and his gaze darkens once again when he realizes how you were grabbed. you see the anger and guilt resurface on his features and you gently grab his wrist instead.

with confidence, you guide his hand to yours and hold it there, looking him right in the eye. your eyes swim with faith and sincerity as you wordlessly tell him that you trust his hands on you, on the places where you’re bruised and bloody.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice hushed and assured. “this… it’s enough, sam. it’s all i need.” just these few words tell him that you don’t care that he wasn’t there when it happened, that his care and comfort in this moment are enough to make it better. that his understanding and worry and protectiveness still mean so much. that things happen, but you’ll be okay so long as he’s there to hold you in the aftermath.

so he does just that. he cleans and dresses your wound, and holds you close on the edge of the bed until you ask to go to sleep. then he holds you under the covers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering sweet things, until there’s nothing but soft darkness and his touch left, and you’re asleep.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: The Next Time We Fall Asleep, We Could Die! [Yandere Demon!Dabi x Reader]

Title: The Next Time We Fall Asleep, We Could Die! [Yandere Demon!Dabi x Reader]

Synopsis: You try not to fall asleep--and it fails spectacularly.

For Horrorfest request: sleep paralysis demon dabi x reader please?

Word count: 700ish

notes: yandere, non-graphic sexual assault

The bedsheets underneath you are rumpled and ill-used, tossing and turning with your body as you try desperately to stay awake while still getting something like rest. An online blog said–and you hoped it was true–that if you laid down in bed and simply rested, you’d get the benefits of taking an actual power nap.

And sure, you were trying to replace your 8-square-hours-a-night with fake naps, but it had to help. Even just a little. Just a tad, just a titch. If it didn’t, well, it meant you were finally going out of your fucking mind.

But you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You won’t. You lift your head and slam it down on the pillow to prove your point. To keep yourself awake, too. 

Because if you fall asleep, o God, if you fall asleep, you know he’ll come for you. O God, he would pin you down and make you scream and cry, and–

O God, you think, pressing your head against the cool pillow, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

“Do you always quote Hamlet when you fall asleep, or are you just feeling extra pretentious today?” A voice drawls in your ear, and no, no-no-no-no-no-no–

You can’t move an inch. Can’t do so much as blink, even. Your eyes are stuck open wide, staring into the darkness, and you smell him before you see him; the acrid smoke that sticks inside your nostrils like tar, no matter how many times you desperately breathe out, snorting like a child having a tantrum.

And then you see him, the whites of his teeth gleaming with his grin as he straddles you, body impossibly heavy as he keeps you pinned to the bed. Not that you can struggle, anyway; during these dreams, these nightmares, you can’t do so much as wiggle a finger. Move a muscle. Open your mouth to scream for help or beg for mercy that won’t come.

“You’re so cute like this,” he says, breathing hot air into your face. Everything about him is warm. His body, his breath, the touch of his fingers as they roam across your skin. He’s burned, you know that; burned and stapled up, a patchwork of stitches.

“You’re like a pretty doll for me to play with. You like that, don’t you?” 

You don’t. You want to scream this in his face. Or beg him to leave you alone. But you don’t even have the privilege of doing that. Instead you’re stuck, silent, immobile, unable to do anything but stare helplessly as he does whatever he wants with you.

He grins wider, and you swear his smile splits, but it’s so hard to tell in the dark. That’s where he always keeps you, in the dark, on your bed, underneath him as he touches and pokes and everything always leads to the same eventuality: him inside you, warm and heavy and too rough, and it’s the only time your body moves during the whole ordeal. 

Not because you gain any control over it, but because the force of his thrusts force your body to shift on the sheets, a cold sweat sticking to your back by the end of it.

Sometimes it feels like he keeps you for days instead of hours. But every time you wake up, body drenched and sore like you’ve been struggling against an impossible force in your sleep, it’s always simply the next morning. 

A simple nightmare, that’s all, you’ve told yourself time and time again. But simple nightmares don’t leave your muscles aching for days. Simple nightmares don’t waft the lingering scent of cigarette smoke over your pillowcase. 

Simple nightmares don’t always end with the same exact thing–the scarred demon kissing your cheek and crooning out,

“See you tomorrow night, yeah?”

[blissfulvixen]

Habit Ideas Masterlist

Body care

• Consistent skincare routine

• Remove makeup before bed

• Dry brushing

• Put on lotion or oil after shower

• Hair masks

• Drink 2L or more of water a day

• Get split ends trimmed

• Keep nails clean and maintained

• Wear SPF on your face and body

Therapeutic

• Journal daily/weekly

• Curate your social media feed

• Meditate before bed

• Sing, cry, shake, run, dance, stim, draw, paint - let it out!

• Talk to someone you trust

• Listen to an affirmative podcast

• Advocate for yourself

• Pet an animal

• Go for a walk or run

Movement

• Try YouTube yoga videos

• Pilates

• Dynamic stretching before workouts

• Incline walking on treadmill

• Walks in your area

• Weightlifting

• Pinterest workouts

• HIIT training

•Calisthenics

Mealtime

• Don’t follow fad diets

• Listen to your hunger cues

• Eat foods that nourish and energize

• Learn the recommended protein intake for your body

• Take time to learn about what ingredients are in your food

• Take multivitamins or supplements

Intellectual

• Listen to podcasts

• Read for 10 mins nightly

• Carry a notepad with you for ideas

• Use a planner

• Annotate books you read

At Home

• Satin or silk pillowcases

• Invest in your home as your sanctuary

• Declutter on a regular basis

• Change your sheets weekly

Financial

• Use a budgeting app

• Build and monitor your credit

• Pay off small debt first

• Start an emergency fund

• Open a Roth IRA and contribute a small amount monthly

Social

• Find a pen-pal

• Practice a language on Duolingo

• Set and maintain clear boundaries

• Create a blog/vlog

Spiritual

• Burn incense or candles

• Pray

• Meditate

• Read about your religion or beliefs

• Connect in spiritual/religious online spaces and communities

• Spend time in nature

[melancholyhigh]

mother do u think u can do subby leon with a lactation kink? or dom leon. (re4 him is so daddy)

masterlist.

note. thank you sm for the request anon <33 there's def a lack of dom leon on my blog. i haven't written a dom character in a while so i'm sorry if i'm rusty ;(

content. nsfw. 0.7k words. dom!leon, p in v, sleepy & soft sex, fingering, squirting, creampie.

It takes a few kisses shared between Leon, and you’re already soaking through your panties. It’s humiliating as you whimper into his mouth, his soft lip pressed to yours.

In your defense, you’re fucking tired. Leon couldn’t sleep, and even though he didn’t want to disturb you from your peaceful slumber, what kind of lover would you be if you didn’t try to help? You didn’t know it, but your warmth presented with so much comfort you would never understand. 

Even on nights like these, where he couldn’t rest, the slow, sensual kisses he left on your pouty lips were enough to calm his worries. 

Running your fingers through his soft hair, you moan quietly, subconsciously grinding onto him. Leon groans at the feeling of your clothed cunt, drenched, sliding along his muscular thigh. He adores the ways you respond to his touch. Your hardened nipples, peaking through your thin shirt and the shy whimpers you let slip.

It wasn’t his intention to get you so worked up, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy you whining his name, pleading for his touch. His calloused palms squeeze the supple flesh of your waist, bringing you closer to his warm body. He continues to tease kisses down your neck, nipping the sensitive flesh. 

He wants to hear you beg for him. Beg for him to please you like no one else can. He wants to admire you as you fall apart, writhing on the sheets and crying out for him.

Your eyelids are heavy, and the building pleasure in your core makes it nearly impossible to doze off. You nuzzle your face into the crook of Leon’s neck, your nails grazing his scalp to the back of his neck.

“Leon, please,” you mumble deliriously, your words dragging out. Leon slips his hand into your panties, using his deft fingers to collect your arousal before pressing on your pulsing clit. You moan breathlessly, your teeth digging into your bottom lip, attempting to conceal your loud whines. You didn’t want another noise complaint.

“This pussy’s so needy f’me, angel,” he whispers, his breath tickling your ear. His ring and middle finger enter your hole and slowly thrusts into your cunt. Your pussy flutters around him as he rubs your sensitive nub with his thumb. His hardening dick is pushed to your plush thigh as he plays with your drooling cunt.

A hitch in your breath indicates you’re nearing your climax, but Leon ceases his fingers in your cunt. You’re dazed, your eyes glazed over, overwhelmed at the sudden loss of pleasure. You rock your hips, fucking yourself on his thick fingers, and Leon chuckles at the sight.

“Want you to cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he says, and you scoff tiredly at his words. He shifts his position on his bed between your thighs. He marvels at the wet spot on your panties before pushing them aside, exposing your leaking pussy to his eyes. 

He moves his basketball shorts down, exposing his fully erect dick, dripping with pre. The head of his cock bumps your throbbing clit as he glides it along your slick folds. He groans as he pushes himself into your tight cunt, your warm walls fluttering around his fat cock.

He begins to thrust into you, his hips moving back and forth, your arousal dripping down, coating the inside of your thighs. Moaning when you clench around him, he fucks you quickly and steady. You’ve done so much for him. The least he can do is make you cum. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, trying to keep your eyes open as he splits you with his cock. He’s so deep that you can feel each vein of his shaft. Broken and shaky moans escape your bruised lips and your back arching off the silken sheets.

“Leon!” you cry loudly, thighs twitching and tears welling up in your eyes.

You come undone, clamping tightly around his cock and your pussy spurting a clear liquid, gushing onto the mattress and his flushed skin. He leans down, kissing you deeply and passionately as he finishes inside you with a loud groan. 

Slipping out of you, he admires his and your combined fluids as they leak out of your overly sensitive cunt. He caresses your tear-stained cheek softly, observing as your breath evens out.

“Let’s get cleaned up, baby.”

“Mfm, can’t we jus’ keep cuddling?”

[ameliora-j]

the need for sonny to pump his cum in me in HIGH but the need for stepdad sonny to pump his cum in me makes me want to tear my skin off and give it to him as a gift

content: stepcest, size kink, breath play, cnc, overstimulation, breeding, degradation, impact play, cum play, infidelity kink, accent kink (? making this a kink actually cus his gets me wet lol), THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

his big strong arm wrapped around your neck, the other pressing your head against his elbow as he pounds you into his mattress. your previous four orgasms leak on the sheets beneath you two as you sob and gasp for breaths.

“daddy… i… please can’t cum anymore” you beg through sobs, fighting for breaths through his muscular forearm. your head is spinning as you begin to see black spots in your vision. his cock splits your pussy open as he pounds into your gspot.

his accent thickens and his cock twitched as he hears you cry. “i didn’t fuckin ask, slut” he mumbles wit a rough ‘slap’ to your ass. you shriek as your cunt clenches around him, your hips involuntarily bucking back in an attempt to force his fat dick deeper into your tiny little pussy. “you just fuckin lay there. let y’daddy breed you like a good fuckin fleshlight” he growls.

sonny cries out as his balls tighten up. his head falls back as he pounds you harder, gripping your hips tighter as he chases his orgasm, using your pussy to get himself off. he chokes out a loud moan as you sob, your pussy involuntarily giving him a fifth orgasm as he spills rope after rope of cum into your sopping pussy.

he forces his cum back in with three thick fingers, pressing so deep into you that his cool metal wedding band touches your puffy little pussy lips, making you whine. “there’s my good little whore” he smirks softly as he fingers his cum back into your pussy.

[theladyofmanyfandomsafterhours]

More Than We Thought.

Shanks x Reader

Explicit | NSFW | 18+ only

Warnings: Heavy (but ‘delicate’?) smut under the cut - trust me. There’s no build up, we just dive right in.

A/n: It’s purely self-indulgent. I’m hiding under my covers so you can’t see me - is it working?

Inspired by Dirtier Thoughts by Nation Haven.

I’ve written clean fanfic over 6 years so I’m terrified to post something so explicit. But we’re allowed to branch out right?

For less steamy fics, try the main blog.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Shanks pressed his hand just under your belly button, his fingers lightly tracing the outline of where his hard length had entered the most intimate part of your body. He could feel himself squeezed inside. He moved forward slightly and saw the bulge underneath his palm follow the movement.

He glanced up at you and saw your head laying on the mattress, chin tilted up and lips between your teeth. He pushed in deeper and the bump grew slowly. You hummed at the sensation. Heels adjusting on the edge of the bed as you spread your legs as much as you could to let him in.

Taking the positive signs, Shanks kept going further - keeping an eye on the way your hand gripped the sheets. But his main focus was seeing how high the bulge under your skin could go before there was no more space. He wanted it to reach your belly button but even the human body had its restraints.

Bit by bit, he pushed until you let out a soft gasp when he had hit capacity. Shanks looked down at where you were connected, a small frown settled on his face - there was still a bit more of him left.

“Shanks.” You whispered. “What’s wrong?”

The Red-Haired pirate smiled. “I’ve filled you but I...” he leaned forward to kiss your neck. “I’m bigger than we both thought.”

There was a pause before you gave a breathy response. “Push it in.”

Shanks peppered another slow kiss beside the first letting his tongue linger just a little. “Are you sure?”

Looking down, you finally met his eyes since it all started. “Push it in and then repeat it.”

Shanks laughed softly and caught your mouth with his. Nipping the bottom lip when he pulled back. “You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow if I start.”

Lifting your head up slightly, you copied his kiss and tugged at his lip lightly. “I dare you to have me not walk for a whole week.”

The grin on Shanks’ face distracted you for a split second until there was a sudden harsh pressure in your core as he forced the rest of himself inside you. The fit was undeniably tight and Shanks knew it. He hit the one sensitive spot that made you react in a way that made his heart race. Head thrown back, eyes closed, your mouth opened but was unable to voice a desperate scream. Only managing a short and sharp, “A-Ah!”

“Are you okay?” Shanks asked just to be sure.

You took a few seconds to catch your breath and adjust to his size. “Fine - a little warning would have been nice.” You told him honestly. When his smile dropped a little, you grabbed his chin and smiled. “But where’s the fun in that, right? Do your worst.”

“Looks like you’re not going to be able to talk for a week either.” Shanks returned with a smirk.

He pulled out carefully and when his hips moved a second time, he slammed himself into you - this time getting one hell of a scream from your lips. Then he did it again - pulled out to the tip before ramming back inside - and then again, determined to make your legs tremble until they wouldn’t hold you upright for the next week…or more.

Each thrust sent your voice screaming spirals into the air sometimes as a cry of pleasure other times just his name - and it only spurred him on. When Shanks started to speed up, your hands found his body. Nails clawing into his skin with a dull pain but it was nothing compared to what he was pounding into you.

If it became too much, you would shout the designated safe word but until he heard any part of that phrase, you were at his mercy. His hard length diving in and out of your body -

…until you couldn’t speak.

…until your legs quaked.

…until you had no more of your juices to release.

…until your insides were drowned in his hot spend.

And until your body was newly shaped to fit all that he was squeezing.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

A/n: Still in shock I wrote that. Sweet dreams x

[eyelessfaces]

wilting

llewyn davis x reader

summary: llewyn finally has an opportunity for his music career, but it only seems to be driving you apart.

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, angst (we're talking about llewyn), fighting, fluff, fear of abandonment and loneliness

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

You'd been expectantly sipping on your drink, an anxious ache dwelling in your chest; you were probably more nervous for Llewyn than he was for himself, if it happened to be anything that could help his career – which you hoped it would be. 

“Think it’s business related?” Jean had asked you like she was reading your mind, an uncertain look on her face as she watched over the pair talking. Llewyn was frantically nodding at the guy, listening intently.

“Hope so,” you had sighed in a hoarse breath, the taste of your drink harsh on your throat. “It'd be good for him.” you affirmed, glancing at the guy that had cornered Llewyn even before he could put his guitar back in its case, wondering for what other reason he would come up to him after his gig if not to offer him a career. 

And the guy happened to be the son of a major player in the music business – that was the way Llewyn put it when he walked back to you and Jean, anyway, so you had been right, and it was finally happening for him.

And it feels amazing to see him like this, at first. He’s so happy about it that he spends his past two weeks savings in a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers and the rather expensive tartan wool scarf you had been fantasizing about each time you walked past the shop window – which wouldn’t be considered much to the average middle class household but is a lot to the two of you struggling to make ends meet.

And while it feels exciting at first, the promise of a new life for him and ultimately for the both of you, weeks pass, and the flowers wilt. Too fast for your liking. The vase holding them at the center of your kitchen table looks way too big for them now that they are dead, dry and sagging, and you feel way too alone in that apartment you share with Llewyn when on the surface, barely anything has changed; only it feels like everything has changed. 

The initial excitement on your side has guiltily faded, letting loneliness and frustration take over as Llewyn slowly but surely lets himself get consumed by work.

He’s composing and writing songs back to back, he’s already working on them when you leave for work and he’s still working on them when you come back from work; it’s almost impossible to tear him out of it too.

A sigh leaves your mouth as your glance falls onto him that evening, determinedly writing down on his messy sheet of paper as you innocently stand in the threshold of your apartment, just hoping to share a moment with him after a long day – for the both of you, probably. It can’t be healthy for him even if he seems so driven by it.

“Hey,” you call, nudging the door shut with your foot. The sound of your voice paired with the click of the door draws Llewyn’s gaze over you for a split second. “Hey,” the ash of the cigarette hanging from his mouth is threatening to fall. 

His attention quickly drifts back to his makeshift working station – the couch and most of the space on your coffee table that is surrounded by sheets of paper all over the floor.

“I picked up takeout on the way back from work,” you declare, holding up the bag that’s in your hand, trying to catch his attention again.

“Nice” he replies absently, his focus now placed on the chord progression he’s playing over and over again to make sure it sounds good. 

“From Hudson Square, your favorite” you add, hoping to draw more than a one word response from him.

“Thank you, babe,” he mutters, barely looking up as he hastily writes something down in his notebook after he puts his guitar away. 

It only gets quieter apart from the sound of his guitar and his low humming as you start eating, sitting on the floor and over the small part of the coffee table that’s not occupied by his mess – it’s a battlefield gathering crumpled notes, cigarette ash and his empty coffee cup that you can guess has been knocked over at some point from the stain on one sheet. You watch him expectantly as you eat your noodles, his own box practically untouched as he keeps on working on his song; how naive of you to hope you could share a moment with him.

“It's gonna get cold” you point out, hoping to coax him into taking a break, your voice resonating with a tinge of frustration Llewyn doesn’t seem to decipher. He hums quietly in acknowledgment, though you’re not so sure he has really listened to what you just said, seemingly utterly absorbed in his work, scribbling on a chaotic sheet of paper.

“Llew what the fuck is that. You need to take a break” you sigh. You feel awful. Not just because he’s ignoring you – mostly because you can’t seem to match your energy and excitement to his. 

The fact that you barely interact anymore takes a toll on you, but you can’t help but feel like there’s something else beyond that – maybe it’s the suddenness of it all, the fact that it all seems too good to be true and that Llewyn probably already starts to believe this is the end of his struggles.

“I have to submit three songs as soon as possible” he says, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray that sits among the mess. His eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles, you can notice it now.

You frown, equally confused and concerned. “Don't you already have those three songs?”

“I need backup in case it's not working for them” he declares with a shrug, looking through the scattered sheets of paper laid before him.

“You're insane” you chuckle, “This is insane.” you watch him as he doesn’t even look back at you. You’re not sure what to say anymore to get him out of this. “You’re good at this. The songs you already have are gonna be good”

“I need to be sure.” his voice is flat, his response automatic.

You frown, watching him go like nothing exists outside of what he's doing. Act like it is the only thing that matters anymore.

“Do you have any idea how painful it is for me to see you like this?” you snap, an ache inside your chest as you say it.

He truly looks up at you for the first time since you entered your shared apartment, his eyebrows knitting into a small frown.

“Painful? Really?” he scoffs in disbelief. “I finally have something good going on.” 

You sigh. “I know, and it’s great, and I’m happy for you Llewyn” you say trying to keep your voice steady and to say the right thing. “But you’re slowly gonna go crazy”

He laughs, a harsh sound with no hint of real amusement. “No, I was going crazy when I was running around New York all day, every day, trying to make a career.” he retorts bitterly; at least, you have his attention now. “I finally have a reason to keep going, my sacrifices were all for something”

You nod awkwardly. “Yeah, I know, but come on Llewyn, look at you. You’ve barely eaten, you haven’t slept properly in days, and we don’t even talk anymore.” you sigh, your hands letting go of the chopsticks from the takeout you had hoped would make him take a break.

“I’m doing this for us. Don’t you get that?” he asks, his face pleading for your understanding though there’s an obvious hint of reproach in his voice.

“It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’ve lost you to this... fucking obsession.” you say pointing to the mess in front of you, and it all comes out more harshly than you mean it to.

“You know this is important to me.” he affirms, his voice hardening in a defensive way.

“And you’re important to me, so I can’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself!” you retort, your voice cracking with your frustration spilling over. He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not destroying myself. I’m building something. For us.” he insists, and though you know his intent is genuine, the reality of it feels much different.

“You can’t build something for us if you’re actively ruining us at the same time.”

“Well what do you want me to do? Give up? Go back to playing shitty gigs for pocket change?” he snaps.

You sigh, not knowing what to say, not knowing where to go with it anymore. Your throat contracts with the knot growing inside it, your facade threatening to break.

Maybe calling him out had been a bad idea. Maybe you should have let him dig his hole, or maybe he was right, he was doing fine, and it was all just you feeling too alone and too selfish about it.

“I’m playing tonight” he eventually says in a mumble once things flatten, breaking the tense silence stilling in the air.

“Yeah, I know” you nod, swallowing your feelings. “Take your keys, I'm not going. I'm exhausted”

“Whatever” he mutters, turning back to his work, and your takeout meal suddenly makes you feel sick as you realize just how far apart you’re drifting and how serious it has become.

—

When you’re usually asleep when Llewyn comes back from gigs, the sound of the front door opening and closing interrupts you from overthinking your argument with him a few hours before. 

You turn around in bed – like you’ve done so many times tonight trying to find sleep – hearing the sounds of him moving around the apartment, the familiar thud of his guitar case being set down, the squeak of your worn out couch as he sits down.

It’s not long before you hear his footsteps and he enters the bedroom, your eyes closing in pretend as he stealthily sifts through the room to get ready for bed. The mattress dips slightly under his weight once he slides in bed behind you, and you shift just slightly when you feel the warmth of his body radiating not far from you; it’s enough for him to guess you’re not asleep and to shift closer to you, his arm sliding around your waist, pulling you into him. His lips brush against your shoulder, leaving a faint kiss there. “You’re not sleeping, are you?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. You can clearly hear the tiredness in his voice.

You don’t respond, keeping your eyes closed, but your body betrays you, instinctively relaxing into his embrace. He takes your silence as a yes, pressing you even closer to him.

“‘m sorry” he mumbles against your shoulder, the prickle of his beard teasing your skin. “I know you're upset” you exhale softly, and he continues. “And I know I work too much. But I don't wanna fuck it up” 

You don’t trust yourself to speak, not without your voice cracking, so you just nod slightly, letting him know you’re listening. “I’m taking my chance, that’s all it is dove.” his voice is hoarse from tiredness, slightly muffled against your skin. “I have to try”

Your hand covers his, your thumb mindlessly rubbing his skin. “I miss you” you finally mutter, your voice weak. “I feel like I’m losing you.” you admit, turning around to face him. The lights outside cast shadows over his face, highlighting the signs of exhaustion. “I've always supported you, through anything,” His hand comes to rest against your face, his thumb tracing along your cheek. “So I'm happy you finally have something good going on but I thought it'd feel better for me to see you like this” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I really need this” he says, his voice barely audible too. “You’re not losing me” he insists, his eyes searching yours. “I love you, you know? I love you. I can’t earn a career and lose you. You just have to trust me. I’m trying to make things good for us”

“I know” you blink, eyes heavy and tingling with tiredness. “I just don’t want you getting fucked up in the process”

“You know I’m already fucked up” he scoffs.

You grin. “Yeah, you are” 

Your hand reaches his face when he kisses you, the faint taste of whiskey and cigarette on his tongue as he presses his warm body closer against yours. 

You pull away just slightly, still feeling the brush of his beard against your chin. “Your songs are good. I would know better than anyone else. You don’t need to beat yourself up” 

He gives you a modest smile, or a tired one, you can’t really tell.

—

The lights cast a golden glow over Llewyn’s face, significantly shrinking the wide room, wider than it could ever seem to be just a few months ago. They shoot a warm, intimate ray around him, around the stool he’s perched on, his guitar close to his chest as he leans into the microphone.

You’re standing half hidden in the shadows near the back, arms crossed, watching as his eyes flutter closed once he starts to sing a tune you know all too well, a song you’ve known in its early stages of creation, in its fragmented form. 

Hearing it whole, complete and out to the world, to all those strangers, locates a bittersweet ache deep inside of you, and for a brief second, Llewyn’s now opened eyes meet yours. 

There is no shift, no wavering in his expression, but there is something special in the way his gaze lingers, ever so slightly weakly softening before he looks back down at his guitar. 

You don’t know what he sees when he looks at you. Maybe it’s the person who believed in him before anyone else did. Maybe it’s something, someone entirely different now that things are so different from how they used to be seasons ago.

Tears start to run down your face before you even realize you’re crying. 

You smile through them as Llewyn sings as if he’s baring his soul to his audience, stripping himself off and displaying the vulnerability of his work to the world, being everything you always believed he would end up being, standing in the spot he belongs to. 

His gaze locks with yours once again, and as you feel the sting of the tears you have to blink away, you force a quivering smile, one you hope will carry all the words you will never be able to say.

—

as you can maybe guess, this is an open ending, up to interpretation, that could be seen differently depending on how you choose to look at it!

any and every feedback/reblog/comment is greatly appreciated and keeps authors going!!

llewyn taglist:

@scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry 

@mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings @dameronshandholder @spider-starry 

@spxctorsslxt @dowbastan @hammerhead96 @unear7hly @Spicydonut25

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 7

TITLE: Cum as you are Part 1

SUMMARY: How each of the members of the Hyung line react to making you squirt. 

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever. 

TAGS: mentions of oral sex (f!receiving), squirting, orgasms, overstimulation.

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

KINK: Squirting

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzekat @queenmea604 🩷

-

BANG CHAN

Every time Chan is buried inside you, his main goal is to make you cum first, and make you cum hard. Even though he has no trouble getting you right to that very edge, it’s always still his main priority. He gets off on feeling your thighs shake around his body, how wet your pussy is. Chan could easily get lost in just watching you cum, especially when he makes you squirt.

It’s not a rare occurrence, but it does happen and always seems to when he’s eating you out. His chin drips with your juices whenever he’s made you cum to the point where you just can’t any longer. He’ll eat you out right to the very end of your orgasm and then some. Not until the sheets beneath you both are soaked through.

-

MINHO

Just about every time he fucks you he can make you squirt, and it’s almost always in positions where he’s taking you from behind. Other times it’s where you’re bound or tied up with a vibratior held against your clit. That being said, Minho gets very smug and satisfied about seeing the floor wet, seeing the bed wet, or whatever surface he has you on, wet.

He knows that making you cum that hard is actually quite taxing, but it’s a sight he’d pay to see. The way that you quiver when you squirt, your muscles spasming around his cock as you soak him. He’s a fiend for it. Nothing less.

-

CHANGBIN

The first time he made you squirt, he was quite surprised. He knew what it was, it was just the fact that he made you cum so hard that, that was the result of it. Since then, he’s always tried to replicate that method of getting you to orgasm in that way and whenever you do, Changbin has to stop himself from cumming. He cannot for the life of him get enough of watching your eyes roll back, feel your nails digging into the flesh of his biceps.

He has the strength to hold and keep you in positions where you just can’t move and have no choice but to take the full length of his cock. That feeling of satisfaction and beautiful pressure penting up inside you is enough for him to make you squirt around him while he’s still fucking you - which is no easy feat.

-

HYUNJIN

When Hyunjin made you squirt for the first time, he didn’t stop until he practically ran you dry. The majority of his sheets were soaked through, your legs were shaking by the end of it, and a lot of his clothes were wet in the process. That was only from finger fucking you. After that, a determination grew inside of Hyunjin to try to make you cum like that at least once every time the two of you had sex.

The first couple of attempts weren’t as successful as he hoped them to be - he still made you cum, but he knew your body could take more. So you both experimented in positions, added in a mixture of toys, pain play here and there until Hyunjin clocked onto overstimulating you, where you started to squirt more. He found that when he’s fucking you and toying with your clit, you’re a goner. Consider everything around you drenched from what his cock can do to your body.

-

A/N: I know that Hyunjin doesn’t always consider himself as part of the ‘hyung line’ but I did include him just to split things evenly :) Maknae line will be out too x

[seedsofagony]

Breakfast in Bed (KnY ♡ Kyojuro)

Cherrytober Day 24: Morning Sex // Body Worship

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Rengoku Kyojuro

Word Count: 1,341

Summary: modern au, x reader (f), vampire Rengoku, fluff and smut, body worship, choking if you squint, marking if you squint, monsterfucking, morning sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, no pregnancy, vampirism, wounds, blood, blood loss

Notes: Aftercare is juice and cookies ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

ETA: Since this fic is getting a little traction, I'd like to remind everyone that minors are not welcome here. I block underage, ageless, and blank blogs.

Kyojuro crawls underneath the blankets just as the sun begins to rise, rays of light sweeping across the bed. He pulls the sheet over your heads and hugs you close, enveloping you in a soft cocoon.

"Cold!" You startle awake, flinching as he presses his cool skin against you.

Kyojuro plants a kiss on your forehead. "Sorry…"

Still groggy, you blink at the sunlight filtering through the sheet. "You're late."

He smiles, bright enough to rival the early morning sun. "I was watching you sleep."

You make a wry face. "That would sound creepy coming from anybody but you."

"I love watching you sleep—you're so beautiful."

Bedhead, cheek imprinted with the wrinkles of your pillowcase, oversized pajama shirt turned halfway around—you can imagine just how "beautiful" you look.Your preternatural lover, however, is, as always, an absolute vision.

His golden hair curls softly around his face, framing bright ruby eyes and that dazzling smile, his canines coming to sharp points. Blue veins spider along his temples and down his neck to the bared pale skin of his muscular chest. They flow down his belly and disappear beneath the waistband of his pajamas—incidentally, the bottoms to the shirt you're wearing now.

Eying those veins, you coil a strand of his hair around your finger, then let it unspool. "You haven't eaten yet."

"Not since dinner."

You flick your eyes back to his mouth, the white pearl of his canines. "You want breakfast?"

Kyojuro's face darkens and, for a split second, he is every bit the predator you know him to be. His gaze moves to your neck, lighting on the neat, twin wounds he gave you the night before. You swallow, stomach fluttering at his unabashed hunger. But it's momentary—his expression quickly softens to its usual sweetness.

"Are you sure…?"

A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "I love breakfast in bed."

He hesitates. You ruffle his hair, "That was an invitation by the way."

Kyojuro scrunches his face as you give him the golden retriever treatment, closing one eye as you tousle his waves. He reaches up and catches your hand. Bringing it to his lips, he presses a kiss to your palm.

"You're so good to me," he murmurs.

Shifting, he kneels over you, pulling the sheet tight across his back, pinning it against the mattress with his forearm to block out the morning light.

"You don't want me to close the curtains?"

"I don't mind," he says. There's a slight edge to his voice, an eagerness that tingles pleasantly between your legs.

Matching his mood, you shrug out of your shirt and shove it aside. Your bare skin prickles at the cold emanating from his body, nipples coming to pert buds in the chill.

"You really are beautiful," Kyojuro says.

He cups your cheek with his free hand and strokes the corner of your lips before drifting down to your throat. Your breath catches as the tip of his thumb just brushes one of the wounds.

His brow creases with concern. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," you admit. "But it feels good, too."

Kyojuro hums, his grip tightening ever so slightly, closing around your naked throat. You can see the confliction in his eyes—the temptation to give in to his most base desires warring with his fierce love for you, his fragile and very much mortal mate.

Your pulse quickens and he flinches as it races beneath his fingers. It's frightening, titillating, knowing you're at the mercy of a killer, but there's no question in your mind—Kyojuro would never do anything to harm you.

His fingers loosen, just as you knew they would, and he moves to your breast, palming your soft flesh, teasing your nipple with the flat of his hand.

Kyojuro's touch glides down to your belly. "Do you know what you look like to me?"

"A snack?" you tease.

Your joke sails over his head—he didn't even hear you, he's so transfixed by the dip in your waist, the curve of your hip. "A goddess."

Again, coming from anyone else, a line like that would never work. But, lying beneath him, soaking up his tender, loving gaze, you blush—a fact Kyojuro doesn't miss. He responds immediately to the high color in your cheeks, erection tenting his pants.

Slipping your fingers beneath his waistband, you push it down, tugging his bottoms over the mound of his ass and his straining erection. Kyojuro kicks them off as he pushes your thighs apart, still gripping the sheet with his other hand.

For a brief moment, you each pause to admire the other—his twitching length and the leaking bulb of his head, your hips angled in offering and the sweet nectar almost dripping from between your legs. Then, as if in mutual abandon, you embrace each other.

Kyojuro slides forward, covering your body with his, cock nosing at your slit. You take him easily, stretching around him as he groans, burying himself to his base. You close your hands over his hips as he begins to thrust, rutting into you with smooth, rolling licks.

He presses his forehead to yours, "Feels so good…"

You hum in agreement, basking in the way he fills you up, his length reaching the deepest part of you, your walls stretching deliciously around his girth. You turn your head and Kyojuro buries his face in the crook of your neck. His lips brush over your wounds, a fluttering kiss followed by the drag of his tongue, slick with hungry saliva.

"Can I?" he asks, breath icy on your neck.

Biting your lip, you answer—reaching up, you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling his mouth against your throat. Kyojuro throbs inside you. Groaning, he snaps at your neck, teeth sinking into your flesh. You gasp and moan, warmth flooding your body.

Teeth and tongue working against your skin, Kyojuro's pace quickens. He drinks you up greedily, pulling long draughts from your neck, rutting with primal need. Closing your eyes, you hold him to you as your head begins to spin. You bring your knees up and wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him.

A whine rises from Kyojuro's chest. He nuzzles your neck, making needy sounds, gulping you down. A swoon presses you back against the pillow. It's hypnotic—the rhythm of his hips, his cock dipping in and out, and his tongue on your bleeding throat. You can feel your climax building, your flush leaking out into Kyojuro's starving mouth. Fingers caught in his hair, thighs clutching his rolling hips, you cum, moaning against his temple.

Kyojuro thrusts through it, feeding your core as it clenches around him. His teeth sink deeper into your throat—the predator satisfying himself, taking everything you're offering. He bucks fast and deep, desperate, urgent. Growling, bite tightening, he thrusts to his base, cock spurting hot inside you.

Still holding you by the throat, he doesn't release you till he's spent his last drop. He eases his teeth from your neck, drawing a shiver from you as he laps once, twice, at your wounds.

Pushing himself onto his elbows, he looks down at you, smiling as he catches his breath. The predator has been sated, and the drape of the sheet over his head looks like a veil, the light shining through, a halo. A healthy flush colors his cheeks, the tracery of blue veins all but vanished from his skin.

You brush the hair from his eyes with trembling fingers. "That was some wake up call…"

Kyojuro's smile widens, "I'll get you something to eat."

You shake your head, "The curtains." His smile fades. "Don't worry about it. I'll eat something when I get up. Just come here."

Kyojuro shifts, stretching out beside you. He slides his arms around your waist, and pulls you close, tucking you under his chin. Pressed against his chest, you can hear his borrowed heartbeat gradually slow as he begins to drift off. You nestle against him, safe and sound in the arms of a killer, and go back to sleep.

[leonenjoyer69]

Harry has returned for the land of neglect, and now has an updated mindscape ref sheet :3

And an additional doodle :3 (with goop and not goop bc I like both)

It's been,, a long while since I talked about him, so a bit of rambling!

Once again, Harry is more so the original, pre potion Jekyll than a combined Jekyll and Hyde, with added trauma and paranoia from being trapped in the mindscape for so long :3. He got trapped away in the mindscape while Jekyll and Hyde got split off from him-- Jekyll believing, ofc, that he himself is the real Jekyll, and that Hyde is a fragment of him. Which! Makes it fun once Harry regains control and Jekyll realizes that he's also just a broken piece :3

Other silly things! Hes slightly shorter than Jekyll, but that's mainly bc he slouches a bit now. He also has a Scottish accent he can't really shake, especially after speaking with it so freely in the mindscape. Usually it's not too bad, but it gets much worse when hes tired or super on edge (usually from Jekyll and Hyde).

Also!! He has ticker-tape Synesthesia, which I actually HC for all three of them bc of that whiteboard panel in the mindscape (I'm so not normal about it). Ticker-tape Synesthesia is described as "automatically visualising written words in the form of subtitles when hearing other people speak. It can also occur with one’s own speech and/or with internal dialogue, i.e. verbal thinking.", and bc of how personal thoughts tend to manifest in the comic, I believe that their internal dialogues would be ticker-taped, along with prevalent thoughts/speaking from whoever is in shadow/mirror form.

Otherwise! I have,,, so much other info on my blog under his tag, so yeah :3 I'll leave my yapping here for now, lmao, thank you for reading!!

[bazpire]

Both. At the same time. no lube, no protection, all night, all day. From the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, blackout, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, mating press, half Nelson, full Nelson, split, inventing new positions, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a closet, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement against the window, on the roof, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, pulling, teeth jitterbug, pussy clenching, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine ting, thirsty thursting all day without stopping, till nothing left, till they can't look me in the eye, satisfied, non-stop, every single second, crawling, back hurt, legs cramped, can't walk for 5 years, don't care, still non-stop, them oiled up makes me even more turned on, screaming with and without the s, their whimpers and moans make my inside giggle, no need for a refractory period, in heat, everyday, till the neighbors hear us, till the neighbors can remember our names perfectly, even during earthquakes, thunderstorms, heavy rains, typhoons, broken bed, everyday buy a new bed, hole in floor, gasping for air, crying, gripping their backs, leaving bite marks and red marks on their necks and every spot, scratching their backs, leaves a scars on their backs, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heaven awakening, i'd still bounce on it, body numbling, back worthy, hair drenched, flabbergasting, down break, whimpering our names, till the neighbors decide to move, legs spread automatically, DOWN BAD, ON MY HANDS AND KNEES, WOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF ,WOOOOFFFFFFFF, MEOOOWWMEEOOWWWMEOOOOOWWWWW, MUUUUUUUUUUUUUMU777UUUUUMUUUUUUU IDC I'LL TAKE IT LIKE A GOOD BOY, GOOD GIRL, GOOD TOY, WHATEVER THEY WANT ME TO BE

GRRERGGRRGRGR ONE CHANCE, BARKING SOO00000 OOOOOFFFF GUESS THIS IS WILD BUT I DONT GIVE A SHITT

[withered-blossoms]

Snow Angels

WARNINGS: Death, witch hunts, indications of hurting people in cruel ways, burning of people (vague descriptions), bodies of the deceased, harsh injuries, mentions of blood

A/N: I participated in the 2024 Obey Me! Holiday Exchange held by @obeymeholidayexchange. This fic is a holiday gift for @rou2464 and contains spoilers for Obey Me! Nightbringer lesson 14-14 regarding Solomon’s backstory as it is pretty much my spin on his lore. It’s also a little long, around 9658 words.

Do what you will with this warning and I hope y’all enjoy it. Also, this fic is entirely fictional and does not represent my / any beliefs. Comments, likes and re-blogs are highly appreciated!

Immortality is not the blessing that the people make it out to be.

People often wish for what they do not have, and endlessly yearn for the impossible in hopes that they would be the unique, favoured exception to the rules binding each and every soul. Take the social hierarchy as an example. There is one, or a group, at the very apex. ‘The royals’ is what those below refer to them as. Then we have the nobles, and even they are split into levels depending on how prominent their families are. The commoners, making up the majority of the population, are bound to respect and obey the commands of those at the top. That is the general rule. They could very well have lived their entire lives, content with the peace and the ease of not having more lives than they could count on their shoulders.

But it is in the human nature to want more. To be greedy. To lay their eyes on what they do not currently have. And to seize it at the next opportunity that presents itself.

Just give it some thought. How many times in human history has the hierarchy been rearranged? How many rulers have been overthrown only to have the lesser of the two evils rise up the ranks? How many times had this have to repeat for the mortals to truly be content, from the bottom of their hearts no less?

Undeniably, quite a few have been out of necessity. But can one truly say that it was purely for the people’s sake that the victors took over the throne as the next rulers? To be in a position of near absolute power? To enjoy the view of having so many others below them? Of course not. After all, there will be a part of them that wanted to stand above all. And more often than not, they realise that with every pro comes a con.

Immortality is no different. Those who long for it only saw the rainbows and sunshine, but never the storm that has to be experienced. No matter how hard the mortals try, the scales are fair and must be balanced. It is simply foolish to try and escape the law of the universe, the one that demands balance and equivalence.

Just like how after the warmth comes the cold, and how the snow has arrived after the sun earlier this year. Blanketing the soil, it aims to cover all that the warmth had touched, be it living or non-living. To hold them in its chilling embrace and hope that it is just as desired as the heat, despite knowing otherwise. It can see how the mortals hid away in their cozy little abodes, huddling to keep out the cold, so imagine its surprise when it saw that one exception making a snow angel.

There, amongst the sea of white, laid an equally colourless figure, his vibrancy long bleached by the merciless tides of time. It left nothing behind but a blank slate, just as it was when it was first brought into the mortal world. He finds it ironic, that humans start out as pure white sheets of paper that are eventually coloured with memories. But what most tend to forget is that as the colours gradually overlapped and blended, white is all that forms. The longer the life, the more the memories, the emptier the canvas. Such was the cycle of life, a loop as complete as ever. Life is born from dust, and to dust it will return. How you start out is how you end up. He would know this better than anyone else; time, despite having stopped for him, still flows for those around him after all.

Those with lifespans often wish for an extension, be it limited or unlimited, for the fulfilment of their wishes. They wish to make up for the regrets staining their life, or to further fuel their procrastination. There is a plethora of reasons, and those making (clearly unbalanced) deals just to attain it are a dime a dozen. What remains the same though, is the fact that when they’ve truly attained it, the scales are there, waiting for them. The now immortal will then finally realise how heavy the weights they have to place on the other end are. That in order to gain all of life, they have to sacrifice everything in life. Their family, friends, freedom, choice.

Nevertheless, if he had a penny for every time a person begged him to reveal the secret to immortality, he would have been wealthy enough to buy the world at least five times over. Now now, Solomon is by no means an open-book. He’s learnt through the hard way in his younger, human days that displaying yourself for all to see is a fatal mistake. However, word will always spread, at an alarming speed no less. It would surprise you just how much sorcerers, even high-ranking ones, love to gossip. It was only due to the elusiveness of the Sorcerers’ Society that the man was not burnt at the stake by the commoners, though he did have to move quite a bit from how frequently those in power sought him out, attempting to pry the secret from his lips with vast amounts of gold and subsequently threats of exposure when he declined.

Now that he thought about it, he was indeed lucky to have loving parents, caring enough to not discard him the moment they found out about his innate powers. Loving enough to risk their lives for him. You see, back in the times where magic was seen as anything but pure and holy, being ostracised for even being related to such a heretic was the best fate one could have. It was thus not uncommon to see many of his kind huddling together for safety and comfort in cages, and put on display like circus animals. It would not be long till they were then given anything but a merciful end, though in his opinion it was better than them being subjected to decades of servitude. 

So, imagine the fear engulfing his parents when they stepped foot into a room with various floating objects and a giggling child entertaining himself. Old enough to know that magic is uncommon, but young enough to deem it mesmerising and beautiful. And as a child would, he pouted when a pair of hands grasped his, causing his fun to stop and thumps to echo throughout the house. With a swoosh, the curtains were drawn.

“Sol, my sweet child, never do that again."

His questioning gaze only served to increase the panic in their eyes, but the terror lacing her words was enough for him to dazedly nod. A sigh of relief was released from pursed lips and the woman rose to help her husband to check on the furniture their child had levitated for damage. He would then overhear his parents reassuring the concerned neighbours of his family’s safety the next day, not knowing that it was the last he would ever enjoy of his freedom.

News soon spread around that Solomon was down with a rather serious illness, one that was contagious. The people spoke in hushed whispers about how much of a pity it was for such a bright and adorable child to have been inflicted with such a disease and how his parents must have been devastated to see their son end up like that. But Solomon’s parents knew that time fades all. Eventually, the town will forget about the boy with the beautiful sky-blue eyes and Solomon will get to live. Thus, the couple turned away the visitors, as concerned and genuine as they were, thanking them for their well wishes and praying that they had let nothing slip.

Solomon, on the other hand, had not taken much of a liking to his new room. Sure, the basement had been cleaned and transformed into his new room, but it was dark. His only natural light source was the light streaming in through latticed windows and somewhat lit his room. All that were left now were but a basement, spacious but empty. Devoid of life, laughter, smiles. He missed his large glass windows, how illuminated his room was and the life outside. He yearned for the day him and his parents would be able to sit at the dinner table once more, chatting and giggling at the stories his father would share about his work. But it seems that day would never come.

His parents, sensing their child’s disappointment, were no less heartbroken. They tried to make up to him, moving their dinner nights to his room, spending as much time as they could with him. However, there was only so much they could do, and it was not before long until Solomon turned to magic for entertainment once more. After all, if there was one good thing that came out of this, it would be the extra space he got and the lack of prying eyes. He supposes that in a way, he had traded one freedom for another; childhood for magic. And maybe, just maybe, he would not have it any other way.

His inner child begged to differ, though he chose to turn a blind eye in denial.

Despite his parents’ worries, they decided to let him be. They may be terrified about potential discovery, but they would rather he be strong enough to break free from future hunters or even captors. Hence, in a silent promise, the two took to covering for their son while he slowly mastered his powers. It comforted them just how quickly he learnt and Solomon was happy to spend time with the two things he loved. He, too, slowly understood the reason why he was confined to the basement, never to see the light of day again, and hated it. So, he vowed to become stronger, to prove that magic could be used for good and to dispel the people’s fear.

Just as Solomon had mentally prepared for his ‘eternal solitude’, a pair of feet popped up near his window. He knew that children tended to approach the woods across his window and had completely forgotten that humans, just like all life, were naturally drawn to the light. The subtle flashes of light coming from his window might as well have been from a disco party if his times had that, so in hindsight he honestly should not have been surprised that they were guided here.

How had he never noticed the light from his spells was a problem to solve later, for he had a visitor and it was not a welcome one. The piercing shriek they let out upon discovering a pair of curious blue eyes staring back at them from a basement was sure to draw unwanted attention, so Solomon clambered back down and laid on his bed.

Readying a banishing spell in the hand hidden in his blankets, he coughed a few times, hoping to pass off as sickly and frail. The new face then tilted their head curiously and tapped at his windows, “Who are you? Are you the child with the serious illness?”

“Serious… yes I am–” Solomon cut himself off, feigning a cough to hide the fact that he nearly forgot the story his parents made up for him. He sheepishly turned his head away, not willing to face them, but that only made them even more concerned.

“Man… it is that serious?” The other child had murmured, bright eyes filling with pity, “You should be out here playing with me an’ the others, not stuck in a dark room all day.” “Wish I could, but I can’t. It is contagious.” Relaxing only slightly, he eyed them warily. There was no way he was trusting this random stranger who had popped up, and he would never risk his family’s life. He needed to scare them off, and what better than the threat of contamination?

“Eh, I ain’t scareda that! You can’t scare me; we’re practically of the same age from what I can tell!” They way they waved their hand dismissively drew a chuckle from Solomon. He knew not how they managed to spot his window since it was rather well-disguised, but he cared not. A few years of not touching grass was enough for his young heart to yearn for a friend, and a friendship thus blossomed. They chatted for a while, getting to know each other before the child’s parents called for them. Scrambling to get up, they brushed the dirt from their pants and waved, a promise of visiting soon spilling softly from their lips.

This new friend would show up once in a while and Solomon has since taken to practising his magic with a board to his window. Every time the new friend showed up, they would knock six times on his window; three short and three long. It was a secret code they kept close to their hearts and Solomon would tidy everything up with magic, check that there were no traces of his practice and allowed the light to stream into his room once more. The other child had already plopped themself down, a pouch in one hand and shiny rocks tumbling into the other. “Ain’t this cool? I found this on the ground an’ it’s shiny! Has a pretty colour too!” A clear crystal with light orange fading to sky blue was excitedly shoved up in his face and it was only because of his window that it did not end up in his nostrils. He observed it, feeling that the colours looked familiar but he couldn’t tell why.

“Don’t’cha think it’s the colour o’ your eyes? That’s the main reason why I picked it up by the way! The orange looks exactly like how the sunset did when reflected in your blue eyes!” And there it was, the unknown reason. “How did you know what the colour of my eyes were?” Solomon asked, not believing that a person could clearly see his eyes when he was in a room so dimly lit.

“Don’t be silly! O’course I know the colour of your eyes. They’re the first thing I noticed after all!” They grinned triumphantly, “My parents say I’m an observant one all the time, and they would never lie t’me! You can have this if you want, I did pick it up because of you.”

Solomon could not deny his friend of this gift, not when he wanted it as well. It’s been so long since he’s received such a heartfelt gift from people his age, the last time being…. well, last time. How should he react? How did his fellow children react in such a situation? Do they cheer? Hug? Smile? He did not know. But what he did know was that he could not afford to draw attention to them both right now, and so he settled for giving them a bright, sincere smile in return. “I’ll take it, thank you so much! You can leave it near my window, I’ll grab it later.”

For a little while, he received no response and tilted his head in curiosity. Had he offended them somehow? Was this not how the other kids reacted from what he observed through his window? Was his reaction too mundane, too cold? Was this friendship going to end? Even worse, if so, will they tattle and bring about his family’s demise? Their stunned expression only served to fuel the flames of his anxiety, and a slew of apologies was on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill from his lips.

“You smiled! You actually smiled! You should smile more ya know? You look very handsome when you smile.” They leaned in a bit closer to see his face better, almost squishing theirs against the glass. The sparkles in their eyes made him blush, a mixture of embarrassment and awkwardness, and he could only stammer out what he hoped would be a socially acceptable reply, “T-thank you, yours is very bright as well.”

“That’s what my friends said too! It’s such a shame you can’t play with us though, I’d love to introduce you to them sometime. You’d fit in so well! I just know it.”

“I’d actually prefer if you did not. Having too many visitors is bad for my health.”

A sad sigh ended the conversation, though the other child quickly brightened up at the suggestion of the friendship being something akin to a secret for theirs to keep. “Aw yeah! This makes us so much cooler than the rest!” And with that, the two continued their daily exchange till the sun started to set and the child went home. As soon as they were out of sight, Solomon pleaded for his parents to bring him the beautiful crystal sitting beside his window and they had agreed on the condition that he be more careful.

If the world was a huge vat of dye, then Solomon would be a piece of cloth, pure and clean as the snow that soon arrived. In such times, none are fully trustworthy, and it wasn’t a risk they could afford to take.  As much as the couple understood that it was a lesson that Solomon had yet to learn, they did not have the heart to taint his innocence. Pair that with his puppy eyes and his parents’ resolve stood no chance. But they were rather confident in their child. He had always been a cautious one since young, who loved his family enough to try his best, and for now that was enough.

Solomon, too, thought that he would understand the ‘adult world’ once he became one, but fate had a cruel appetite for the good that happened to people. And it so happened that he had been selected as the sacrificial lamb.

Just a few days ago, his friend had showed him how to make a snow angel and he had laughed at the silliness of it all. “Look! This is how you make a snow angel!” They had chirped, flopping backwards onto the snow and spreading their arms and legs till they had dug a shallow human-shaped hole. Due to the angle of his window, Solomon could not see the hole in its entirety, but he could tell that it vaguely resembled the holy ones he’d constantly hear about.

“That looks fun! I should try it sometime.”

“You should! I can’t wait for you to get better so we can have a snow angel making competition! The one who makes the biggest snow angel will win!”

“Oh, you best believe I’ll beat you in that! Mother says I’ve been growing taller recently.”

“Hmph, I’ve been growing too! Dad says I’m a few inches taller now.”

The little banter was then wrapped up with tongues playfully stuck out at each other and was soon replaced with bursts of laughter. “But in all seriousness, I really do want to play with you outside someday. Who knows? We might even create the largest snow angel one day!” “Yeah, I can’t wait for that day either!” A vow was made and that day, Solomon learnt how to make a pinkie promise. A new experience to add to his diary, he grins. Having a best friend was truly fun, and he truly looked forward to the days filled with snow angels and snowball fights. He’d never like the heat much, so he’s confident he would fare well in snowy weather.

Solomon then went on his days merrily, preparing a birthday gift for his dear friend. It was their birthday and he had been anticipating their presence since the crack of dawn. It was the first time excitement had robbed him of his sleep, and he jotted this incident down in his little diary as well. The journal was pretty much running out of pages with the sheer number of new experiences his best pal had brought him and he made a mental note to ask his parents for a new one.

So this was what it was like to have a best friend, he realised. To have someone laugh and cry with you, to lift your mood when you’re down and to help you see the world when you couldn’t. He cherished every second of their friendship, and it showed in his gift. In return for their crystal last time, he had picked one according to the colour of their eyes as well; one with a gorgeous shade of emerald that gradually transitioned into a yellow as bright as their presence. He has thought it a perfect combination; one colour representing the eyes that held so much hope for the world and one colour to represent said sunshine child. There was no better gift than this one, Solomon was sure.

The seconds soon ticked by, yet even when the sun had started to set, that bouncing ball of excitement was nowhere to be seen. A growing fear was gnawing at the back of his mind and his stomach was in knots. Something was wrong and he could not pinpoint just exactly what. His intuition had never been one to lead him astray and that only served to make him more anxious.

‘Perhaps they had something to do today.’ ‘Maybe they got caught up in celebrating with the others. Everything is fine, Sol, don’t worry about it.’ ‘But they promised they would make time for me today as well and they have never gone back on their word. Could they truly have forgotten?’ A green monster reared its ugly head, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

Solomon did not realise, but currently he was feeling jealous. Jealous that they had other friends, jealous of those who distracted his friend so much that he was shoved to the side, but mainly of the fact that he couldn’t cheer birthday wishes alongside them.

When Solomon finally noticed his scowl in the reflection of his window, he was taken aback. Since when was he capable of such twisted expressions? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Now is not the time to get distracted, Solomon. He had to figure out where his friend was, and only then did he pick up on the eerie silence of the town. Where was the hustle and bustle? Where were the kids playing tag on the streets? The houses usually lit were now dark, and the chimneys were not spitting smoke like they used to. Something was off and his mind demanded to know what.

Hurrying out of his room, he eventually reached his parents after making sure that there was no one over. The concern was unnecessary; the townspeople avoided their house the moment they caught wind of his supposed ‘illness’ anyways, but it was better safe than sorry.

“Mother, father, they haven’t shown up and it’s been a day.” He urged, grabbing his mother’s sleeve gently. His parents knew just how much he had been looking forward to this day and had been the ones to help him find that crystal; surely they’d help him get hold of his friend. In his urgency however, he had missed the flash of guilt in her eyes and the aversion of his father’s now heavy gaze, only focused on asking for their help.

Before he could plead for them to check up on his friend, his mother got up and directed him to the basement instead, a strained smile pulling at her lips, “It would be rude of me to show up to their house uninvited and without prior notification, dear, especially on such a day.”

His father nodded in agreement, chipping in his suggestion, “Why don’t I deliver the gift for you if they still don’t show up tomorrow?” The feigned strength in his father’s voice did not go unnoticed, but the young child passed it off as mere fatigue. “It’s alright, thank you.” He sighed, turning away in disappointment. The next second though, his ears caught a faint cacophony of voices from the outside world and he could not help but run towards the windows.

‘The answers to your fears are there!’ His intuition screamed, ‘the truth is about to be revealed!’  What it failed to let him know, however, was that it was a truth he could never handle at his age, mental and physical.

The couple could not grab Solomon in time. For a child who spent his current life cooped up in an underground space, Solomon was surprisingly agile. Well, for the adults anyways. Only the child himself knew that he had also been working on his physical health and strength all this time. Strong powers demand strong vessels, he was not about to try his luck with the next spell he cast.

The burst of speed he gained from curiosity was immediately lost when he spotted the tendrils of smoke clawing their way into the sky. Various torches lit up the city square, and the usually peaceful citizens were now huddled in a circle, thumping their pitchforks against the ground and demanding for evil to be banished.

‘Evil? What evil?’ Solomon wondered, not having seen any malicious entities around in the town lately. The crowd parted slightly, but the little gaps were more than enough for him to spot said ‘evil’.

There, tied up to a stake, was his friend.

Their clothes were tattered, and gaping streaks of red took the place of the rips in the cloth. Bruises littered their skin and their hair was sticking in all directions; the crystal-clear result of harsh pulling. The poor child looked completely disheveled; their eyes devoid of the light they once held, their parents equally unkempt and displayed for all to see. Their once dear neighbours, friends and even relatives were now spitting from sidelines, disgust lining their features as they screamed curses.

“Burn, you heretics! You should not roam the very earth we step on! How dare you try to take over our space after conquering the depths below!”

“How dare you even come up to the surface and even bring that hell-spawn along with you?! You should have rotted in the very depths of where you spawned from!”

“I knew something was up with that little bastard the moment it showed off a rock to my child! Turns out that blue an’ orange stone was magical; it was trying to lure and drag my child down with it! Not on my watch!”

“These wretched beings tried to lure children? How despicable! We must send them down at once!”

Each word spat out drove the dagger deeper into the rope known as Solomon’s sanity. That stone was magical? His friend was a mage? No, that could not be. He could not sense any traces of such powers from the other child and he had always been a sensitive one to such matters. His friend was not a mage!

Clearly, the accused family tried to say the same. Vehemently denying that they were practitioners, trying to reason with the people. “We do not have magic! You’ve never even seen us do magic!” But how could logic ever appease the rage of the villagers? Humans choose to believe what their eyes see and deny the existence of what they did not. Out of the fear of the unknown, they choose to turn a blind eye to justice, to innocence, and most importantly, to the lives of the condemned.

Before his thoughts could spiral, calloused hands filled his vision and he was slowly pulled away. “Don’t look, Sol! We… tried to save them from the sidelines, but they were discovered halfway.” A deep voice full of regrets sounded, followed by the drawing of curtains. “They are neither mages nor witches! They don’t have any magical abilities!” Solomon exclaimed once he had snapped out of his daze, trembling as it finally dawned on him. His friend and consequently their family had been condemned to death because of him. It was all because of one stupid crystal the colour of his eyes.

He had caused their suffering.

His parents released him, pained by the agony in their son’s words. They were powerless to stop all that is happening as much as they wished they could. But there was no way two mere mortals could ever hope to defeat a raging, pitchfork-wielding crowd. All they could do was to comfort their son and pray that the other family would be given a quick release. However, it seems that their son had other thoughts.

The slamming of the doorknob against the wall was all that was left of Solomon; the boy having rushed out as quickly as his slippers could carry him. He had thought about using his powers to somehow save them, be it teleportation magic or perhaps some optical illusion.

Yet he was well aware that it would only serve to make their lives worse. He could only help them hide for a short while but not forever. Word will still spread and bounties will still be set up. His best friend, a beautiful ray of sunshine, ever so kind and understanding, would be subjected to a fate worse than his. Never to see and enjoy the surface life, having to live by scraps like sewer rats as the people scorned and dragged their names through the dirt.

They did not deserve that.

Solomon thus chose the safer option of squeezing through the crowd and screaming at the mayor. “They are innocent!” he yelled, “They do not have magical powers!” That sudden interruption successfully stopped the adults who retracted their torches before they could accidentally burn an innocent child currently blocking their path. “Whose son is this? Children are seen, not heard, boy! Besides, how can you prove that they are not from the underground?” The mayor questioned, the scowl on his face deepening as noises of agreement echoed from the crowd. From the corner of his eye, he saw their eyes light up, but they soon shook their head slightly at him. Their parents were no different, eyes full of worry for HIS safety. They were already tied to stakes, at death’s door and yet this family was worried about HIS fate?

No wonder they say “like child, like parent”. He could definitely see where that kindness came from and it only made him even more determined to stop this tragedy from taking place. There was no way he was going to watch that light be snuffed out, not over his dead body.

“Haven’t all of you known them for years? Never once had you seen them doing witchy stuff, have you? Mmph–!”

“My apologies, he’s currently feverish and disorientated. We will watch over him better.” His mother gave an apologetic smile as his father picked the struggling child up. “Hmph, watch your child before he gets burned by accident. We ain’t takin’ any responsibility fo’ that!” With that, the crowd turned to the three supposed criminals.

“The time to send these demons back to their creator is here! Pray, for their salvation, for them to be cleansed by the holy flames, for them to become holy and angelic instead. Pray, for their rebirth as a clean and pure being!” The wood beneath their feet were subsequently lit, and the family’s silhouettes were gradually engulfed by the smoke. The crowd quietened down, choosing to witness this punishment in silence.

“Mama, are they going to be snow angels now? Since the flames are cleansing their souls and helping them become angelic?” A voice filled with innocent youth rang out, successfully stopping the boy struggling in his parents’ arms. All this time, Solomon had watched on, wanting but not bearing to bite down on his father’s hand. Tears had spilled over from his eyes and streamed down his cheeks in large droplets as his screams were muffled to the best of abilities.

But hearing those words made something snap in him. So, he went limp, bangs covering his dull blue eyes. His parents could only hold him closer, trying not to let their own masks crack. The people would get suspicious if even the adults in their family were seemingly mourning for the ‘evil’, so his parents could not express their sadness nor guilt for being unable to repay the good shown to their family.

Snow angels? Calling them that just because they were being cleansed and turned ‘angelic’ in snowy weather? How could this child watch such a cruel sight with excited eyes and still say such dim-witted and disgusting words? She was but a little over half his age; had she already become a bloodthirsty abomination like the rest of them? The adults were even more revolting, since it was only due to their influence that the children had turned out like that. Unmoving, unblinking as they watched fellow, live humans turn into charred, unrecognizable corpses before them.

But the one he loathed the most? Those who started this trend of executing people for magic, even without concrete evidence that they actually had any. How could anyone even stand for this? Mages, sorcerers nor witches alike harmed people. Well, most didn’t if the receiver did not deserve it. Even if they did, chances are the ‘victim’ had committed some sort of crime heinous enough to incur the wrath of those wielding such powers. Even so, the true victims are always villanised and the innocent have their blood spilled. ‘People like that do not deserve to co-exist with the good,’ he thinks.

He then remembered the promise made to this friend of his, back when they had discovered his magic and had voluntarily been sworn into secrecy, that he would be an amazing sorcerer who served humanity and the greater good. That he would help humanity reach greater heights and eventually humans would not be powerless compared to other life anymore. That those with magic and those without will live together in peace and harmony. The ones with magic will be in charge of the protection of their residential areas and those without will be able to focus on food production and other areas necessary for survival. The entire population be able to thrive and none will be condemned for something they did not choose again.

But were these the sort of people he wanted to protect? To help them prosper and live only for them to kill more of his kind and accuse those they needed to get rid of or despised of something they were never born with? Was he willing to protect the murderers while the murdered hollered their woes into the night?

In that split second, he decided ‘No’. This was not the humanity he wanted to lend a helping hand to. These vile beasts in humans’ clothing will not be part of the humanity he envisioned. They deserved neither his future protection nor efforts, and he will make sure that they know it.

With a raise of a finger so slight it could be passed off as a twitch, he extinguished the flames before the tortured cries could continue. Confused murmurs soon came from the crowd, and those at the front tried to light the wood again. Despite multiple attempts, not even a single spark could get the fire going and a frustrated kick sent some of the branches skidding across the harsh gravel.

Solomon’s parents had a feeling that somehow, just somehow, this may have been their son’s doing. No reaction came from the boy, and they had no evidence. Even if they did, they wouldn’t have said anything anyways. But a temporary solution was not enough, and the civilians were obviously upset about having their ‘fun’ end. Even without fire, there were plenty of ways the family could suffer, each crueler than the last.

Solomon knew this. He also knew that he was not powerful enough to pull off any major spells despite his daily practice. There were no books he could consult, for those were seen as evil traps used to lure innocent souls. He could only rely on his active imagination and was relatively successful for the most part. And yet there was a limit to the power he currently wielded. He just was not strong enough to truly save them from the hands of the vile.

He had never felt so powerless before and neither had he loathed himself as much as he did in this moment. Wide, blue eyes could only watch as the mayor grabbed a pitchfork from a farmer and readied himself to carry out the sentence. It felt as if time had been slowed down, the seconds turning into hours as he struggled once more, a hand reaching out for the one who had never left his side and had opened his eyes to a new world.

They felt so far and yet so near; would he be able to save them after all?

A bright flash blinded all that were gathered in the town square before they found themselves floored, quite literally. What Solomon had yet to learn but did in this moment was that emotions were very much capable of unlocking one’s potential, something he had tons of. Only able to stare at his hands in wonder, he surveyed the surroundings and to his horror, he found that the people had been thrown backwards by the sheer strength of his magic, and most if not all of them were unconscious. His parents were, fortunately, unharmed for the most part, but were also sprawled and unmoving like the rest.

His friend and their parents were more fortunate, for the stake had prevented them from being blown away. It, however, did not shield them from the resulting disorientation and Solomon took the chance to free them from their binds. None were in good condition, but his friend’s concerned him the most. Just the sight of their fresh and old wounds was enough to make his skin crawl and he had to hold back the bile rising up his throat. The priority was not how he felt right now, neither was it the visual assault his eyes had just taken. He had to get them all away before the others regained their consciousness, and so he did. Or well, tried, at least.

“I’m so sorry but please, if you can stand, follow me to the best of your abilities! I…am not sure for how long they will stay down and your injuries require urgent treatment!” He had whispered, shaky hands trying to find a good spot on his friend’s skin only to find absolutely none.

As expected, the three were no longer capable of standing without support and could only lay where Solomon had carefully lowered them to the ground after releasing them. The two adults were shocked to see that Solomon had magical powers, but soon smiled.

“That… was why they said you were sick.” “It matters not, I would have done the same.” Their parents mumbled, the words slurred from pain and exhaustion. “Run, child… bring ours and go. I’m afraid we do not have long.” The lady spoke and the sir nodded, lifting a hand to stroke his child’s cheek and the fingers of his other intertwined with his wife’s.

The stunned silence coming from Solomon was broken by the sniffles from the friend laying in his arms, them grabbing onto their father’s wrist with bloody hands. “Sol, my friend, please do not separate me from my mom and dad! Save them, save them!” They had sobbed, partly due to the salt entering their wounds but mainly due to their fate.

Solomon, with all his being, wished he could save them, but there was nothing he could do. All he knew were spells for minor cuts and scrapes, nowhere enough for areas of broken skin this large. That did not stop him though. He had the option to try and he was going to take it.

He could, and so he would. Like how he knew could try to save this family, and so he did.

Letting the powers flow from his fingertips as spells left his lips in silent chants, he watched as their pained expressions relaxed a tiny bit. It comforted him, though not by much. Their lives were still slipping from his hands like grains of sand with each passing minute, yet they’re choosing to use their last moments to urge him to leave them and to run before he’s next on their hitlist.

“Child, please. Go! Spend no more of your time on us and leave. Run as far as you can!”

“We are already a lost cause … we genuinely do not have much longer. Don’t waste your energy on us and go!”

“Sol, my best pal, mom and dad are right, jus’ go!” A harsh cough interrupted their words, and they watched in despair as their parents’ eyes slowly closed, hands intertwined with each other’s and their child’s. With one last murmur of a promise to meet in their next life and apologies for their sweet child, they were truly gone. The couple had brought nothing but their family to the afterlife, yet they gave and left so much for this unjust world to take. ‘The world does not deserve any of their possessions.’ Solomon thinks, but he knew better than to think that the greedy bastards in his town would leave their belongings be.

Despite their most precious belonging laying in his arms, he could not see his friend clearly through the tears blurring his eyes. He had already set their fate in stone and was unable to save their loved ones; the least he could do right now was to ensure their survival. Thus, the young boy shook his head and wiped at his tears haphazardly with his sleeve. “I’m not abandoning you! I… I could not save your parents, but I can save you!”

He had to, he must! He will do whatever he takes to at least do something good to repay this family for their acceptance! He could save them; he just knew it!

A hand tousling his hair stopped his ministrations and he soon felt his pinky being pulled at.

“Sol…I beg of you…” He looked up from the injury he was working on, large droplets still flowing from his eyes helplessly. Why? Why was he crying now?! The only purpose that these stupid tears would serve now was to blur his vision when his job right now depended so much on his sight! He needed to save his friend, not cry like a little baby!

“Hey… Sol… don’t cry.” They laughed a little, the huff being cut off by another coughing fit. “Never thought I’d see ya cry, but here we are. Shame… that it was in this sorta situation huh? You crybaby.”

Crybaby? He gaped at them, absolutely flabbergasted. “M-me? Crybaby? You’re practically dying and you’re calling me a crybaby? How could you?!” He yelled, trying to pour more of his powers into his fingertips. Watching the boy cry rivers was definitely not on his friend’s birthday bingo card this year. Seeing his tears made them want to sob alongside him, but they did not want to leave crying, so they pulled a little harder on his pinky, hooking theirs with his.

“Fine, fine, you ain’t one… but Sol…I feel so tired. So…very tired. I wanna sleep with my mom and dad. You’ll grant me that birthday wish, won’t you? Consider it my last request for ya.” Their cracked lips pulled back into an exhausted smile, “Promise me you’ll live and become a good sorcerer… for us humans yeah? Who knows? One day… I might come back to you, make the largest snow angel… and snatch your title of the strongest sorcerer!”

“Psh, as if I’d let you take both titles from me.” He huffed, trying to smile back as he gently laid them down between their parents. He wanted to tell them to stay up a bit more, to refuse the invitation to dreamland. But as always, they had successfully managed to distract him from his woes and sadness. He couldn’t bear to ruin the mood they worked so hard to lift either, so he settled for tightening his pinky’s grip on theirs. “I promise.”

“Also, here is your gift.” He took out the crystal he had prepared as their birthday gift. “Doesn’t –” He choked up, turning away to recomposed himself, “D- doesn’t it match the colour of your eyes? E-even the shade of green i-is the same.” A wobbly smile appeared on Solomon’s face, but even he could tell that this smile was ugly. How beautiful would a smile be when his facial features were twisted up in a fight to take control, to either display sadness or happiness?

He was sure that his face was covered in tears and snot. He didn’t care though. He wanted to send his friend off with the smile they had said was handsome even if his heart was bleeding tears. Solomon knew that that was what they would have wanted and he was not one to deny their wish.  

The other child gave a short puff of laughter. “Yeah, it does. It’s pretty like my eyes…” All they got was a watery eye-roll in return, but they wouldn’t exchange it for anything in the world.

“You still have that stone… I gave ya?” Their dull green eyes now flitted to the pendant underneath his shirt, recognizing the imprint of their gift. “You should toss it out… they’ll go nuts and burn ya… for being a witch with a magical stone."

Solomon shook his head stubbornly, refusing to toss out the last momento he had of his very first friend.

“Save yourself and your mom and dad, Solomon... Live on and don’t end up like me…but if you can, become a good sorcerer and help others like my family.” They forced out with their last breath, head turning to face their parents as their eyes closed. Their last tear plopped onto the snow, incredibly loud in the mournful silence.

It was their last call for help, last resistance to the world which sought their lives.

The child had finally passed, a peaceful smile on their face as the life slipped from their eyes, leaving nothing but an empty vessel.

“I promise.” A choked whispers sounded out, echoing through the snowy night. Without the need to put up a front, he was free to express his sorrow.

So, the child let himself wail, placing the birthday present in his friend’s pocket. He cried and sobbed, letting his pain shake the heavens and earth. He screamed at the injustice of it all and let the words fall from his lips. His demands of justice and fairness went unheard, just as it had for others before his friend. It was a miracle that his shrieks of rage failed to wake the unconscious perpetrators; snowflakes littering their forms and melting after. He wailed, till his throat was raw and only then did he get up and gathered the remnants of his strength. He should at least give them a somewhat proper burial, even if snow was not the best option.

He simply did not have the strength to drag them to the woods despite knowing that their bodies would not be spared; the healing had sapped him of his power and there was no time to rest as he usually could. Thus, he did his best to see his friend off. To make their last moments a joyful experience. It was the least he could do when he couldn’t take or lessen their pain. His friend appreciated and loved it nevertheless, he was sure.

He then hoped, ironically, that they will become an angel, preferably of the snow. They were born in snowy weather, and now to snow they will return.

A silent prayer left his lips before the child was down. As his vision faded, he could not help but think. ‘Why were the angels watching this not helping the innocent? Why were they allowing such cruelty to happen?’ He simply did not understand. Weren’t they supposed to be good, preach good and do good? Then why were people killed for something innate? Something they did not choose? His brain could not figure out the answer, choosing to relax his body and lure him into a deep sleep instead. They would need the energy for the chaos unfolding afterwards, it was sure.

As expected, when the townspeople woke up, they were shocked at the disappearance of the criminals. A search party was unnecessary, however, since one tripped over the three piles of snow and revealed the ‘witches’ they were about to search for. Not willing to give the deceased a proper rest, the bodies were carelessly thrown into the woods for nature to do its job while attention was turned back to the unconscious.

Solomon, on the other hand, had thankfully woken up later than the adults had. They had assumed that he was attacked by the three evils upon seeing the blood staining his clothes and had urged his parents, now awake, to take him back home for treatment. His parents then carried him home, both concerned and fearing that they would be next. The couple was thankfully wise enough to removed his pendant and hide it before the town’s doctor had woken up, knowing that the townspeople would send the doctor their way first since Solomon’s appearance was rather bloody.

The boy turned out to be fine, the doctor said, he just needed plenty of rest after the “horrifying attack” he’s experienced. His parents heaved a sigh of relief and saw the doctor off, rambling about how grateful they were for God’s blessing and how their son managed to survive an evil attack unharmed. It was all a bunch of nonsense, but clearly convincing enough for pity to fill the doctor’s eyes as he patted Solomon’s father on the shoulder, all the while reminding them to pray more.

The next few days were incredibly dull for Solomon. The boy had stared at his hands blankly after regaining consciousness, still trying to process his emotions. His parents tried their best to comfort him to no avail; he was unmoving and unresponsive. With a sigh, they could only leave him to his devices and allow him to grieve.

Having gained some personal space and time, Solomon took to watching the snow fall. He wondered if his friend and their parents had been discovered. If so, what happened to their bodies? Their estate? He did not know. No one would tell him either. Closure was not given and would never be given.

He didn’t want to know either.

A sparkle in the snow by his window caught his eye and his eyes focused on the object. Laying in the snow was the crystal he’d given to his friend, shiny and polished as ever. The colours were ever so vibrant, still the same emerald and yellow combination. He had to do a double take and rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. There was no way this was real; he had already given it to his friend so why was it here? Were they in the woods?

He wanted to know. He had to know!

He grabbed the crystal and called for his parents, frantically explaining to them that he’d found his gift near the window and how the other family must’ve been thrown into the woods if the crystal ended up here. He pleaded and begged for them to at least check if the deceased were indeed there and to at least give him some closure, but all he got were regretful sighs.

“There was nothing left, son. There is nothing in the woods. Even if they were left there, surely the animals had taken them. You know how nature does its job.”

There it was, the cold hard truth. The one Solomon needed to hear. Their hearts ached at his pain, but he deserved to know as much as they did. Escorting the numb boy back to his room, they allowed him to keep the crystal and gave back his. Solomon could only force out a ‘thank you’ to his parents before sitting on his bed and gazing at the two crystals in his hand. These ‘rocks’ were all his powers saved.

At least he got to save another piece of them, he thinks bitterly. ‘How utterly useless. What do I need these powers for if I can’t even use them to protect the ones I want?'

‘…If the more powerful entities refuse to protect the innocent, then I shall become powerful and take on the role.’

‘One day, just one day, I’ll be able to defend the innocent from those wishing harm upon them. No matter how long it takes.’

That was the start of Solomon’s self-taught magical journey. His grimoires increased in number, but his diary remained single and locked up. No longer did he watch and observe the outside world, but spent his time practicing and mastering spells, particularly healing and teleportation spells. The sunlight would no longer stream in through that one tiny window; it’s not like it had any way to.

Without the sun to remind him of the time, he relied on his Circadian rhythm to remind him to rest. But even that was ruined when he started to push himself past his physical and mental limits, so the only way he’d rest was when his body forced him to. At the very least, his body could refuse to support him through his stubbornness and he would finally allow himself to slumber.

Sometimes, he would see his friend in his dreams, smiling and laughing, donning beautiful wings of ice and a shining halo on their head. They’d grab his hand and pull him, the two falling into the snow and making snow angels. ‘A snow angel making a snow angel.’ He’d laugh in such dreams, causing his friend to throw a snowball in his face. Of course, he’d reciprocate and a snowball fight would commence.

Those were the most beautiful dreams he’d had, but reality would soon deliver a harsh smack to his face and wake him up. This cycle would repeat till his adulthood, and only then did he truly start to move on.

Or so he thought.

Funnily enough, when he had turned himself immortal on that one fateful day, orange crept up the bottom of his irises and created a beautiful gradient. Even the shade of orange was exactly the same as the stone he was gifted. As for the crystals, he had taken to making pendants out of them, wearing them and roaming fearlessly in the human world.

It was a silent challenge to the world, for them to come and banish him for supposed magical stones as they had his friend. He’d protect these crystals with his unlimited life anyways.

Now his eyes could perfectly match his gift even without a sunset. He wondered how his friend would feel. Would they be happy? Sad that he had perhaps subjected himself to a fate worse than death? Would they finally come down to chide him for his silly magical mistake? Or would they try and steal his future title of ‘strongest sorcerer’ as promised?

Perhaps they would, but he should focus on his skills for now. He would rather they not show up when he’s still this… weak. When the day comes, he’d be sure to make them gape at his magical prowess and have them be his disciple. He’ll then be able to teach them, helping them grow just as they had him, and he’ll finally repay them as he’d always wanted.

Until then, he’ll wait for them. He’s always been a patient one anyways; a lifetime was nothing to an immortal like him.

However, as the years went by, his hair faded to white and the blue of his eyes faded to a dull grey. He could only pray that his friend recognised the crystals they’d exchanged, now hanging from his neck from a necklace. Surely they’d spot the crystals; their’s was hung right over his heart, and his over his core.

“Achoo!”

A sneeze escapes him and conveniently cuts short his trip down memory lane. ‘Goodness me,’ he thinks, ‘how long have I been laying here for?’ Nature answered with a gentle snowflake to his nose, drawing his attention to the slightly red organ. It’s getting cold. It would not be wise of him to stay out too long. His thermoreceptors are still working fine, and he’d rather they stay that way.

Oh well. At least they didn’t take the tea back. It would most definitely go well with Luke’s baking.

Perhaps a cup of tea would do the trick, he thinks. The other human exchange student had just given him a few bags the other day, all the while asking him where he got ‘the pretty green and yellow crystal’. They would love to get one, they’d said. But Solomon could only let them down, saying it was one-of-a-kind.

[ioverbug]

I’m a lesbian, but I’ve been wanting to get bred so bad lately. Legs spread, knees pushed up against my chest, and a cock just splitting me open. I want him to cum inside me and make me watch as it all drips out into a puddle on the sheets. Telling me I’m so good and so filthy for letting him do this to me. Maybe he’ll fuck me in front of some other girls too. Show me off for how obedient I am, how well I take cock even though I’m so new at it. God your blog is ruining my life in the best way idk how I’ve gone this long without fantasizing about getting fucked by a man😭 sorry I just had to confess to somebodyyy

Oh friend 😭 I understand, the feeling of getting fucked by a man is honestly so so good. Having a man take control, cum deep inside you to make sure he’s bred you and then watch it drip out 😫. Cocklust is genuinely real!!! I hope you get to try cock whenever you’re ready. I promise you’ll be hooked

[dontmakemeright]

i read through your blog every time i get needy and my god i could be so so good for you

i would be a good boy i'd let you bend me over and stuff me full and knock me up and i could carry your litter so so well

you could fill me up with your cock and split me open and i could take it so well for you i could be such a good boy for you i want your bites and scratches and i want you to fill my womb with your cum please

- 🐍

You little shit. You sent me so many asks, I'm just answering this one but I've read them all. And you made me so fucking hard. All the sweet stuff you wrote followed by the sluttiest little messages. Fuck. I know you're just a cute pet in heat, not able to control his needs but your desperation makes me go feral. I just wanna grab you and shove my cock into your pretty boypussy already, feel you soaking up the sheets underneath cause you're so needy. I wanna reduce you to a moaning, whimpering mess, clit throbbing and pulsing, marks covering your whole body. I wanna cum inside you so many times your belly bulges and you're crying with oversensitivity. And then I wanna repeat that as you're carrying my pups, bet that'd make you fucking insatiable.

You're gorgeous ♡

[vinciwolf]

Calling Them Daddy

Recom Miles Quaritch x (fem) reader/Recom Lyle Wainfleet x (fem) reader

Warnings: SMUT, piv, female reader, riding, daddy kink, roughness

Notes: Here’s a small drabble until I get “Morning Bean” published. I have to tie up the ending and proofread, so it should be published in a few days!

~ Miles Quaritch ~

The first time you said the name was when Quaritch was pounding you from behind, girthy head hitting you hard against your sweet spot.

Face lined with sweat, the Colonel's abs flexed hard, rippling to the exertion he put into slamming his hips again and again just to get that ringing, pitched voice of yours to never stop its song as you spewed your slick along his huge cock.

The burn drove your mind wild, fisting the sheets as your whines carried over the walls and likely into the hallways for everyone to hear, only worsening the thrill that shot through your core when you knew the Colonel loved making sure everyone knew you were his.

You didn't mean for it to slip out. Your mind was so helplessly drunk on the way his cock, stretching you out, tucked its entire girth away with every thrust curving just right, to the volume of hot cum ejecting from your stuffed hole, that your tongue spoke for itself and whimpered amidst Miles’ grunts and snarls.

“Hnnnggg, oh daddy~!”

Quaritch's hips came to a standstill immediately, all attention going to what just passed his ears, even questioning if he heard right, only to start whacking his hips against your ass cheeks once more with a fervent blaze in his eyes, pupils blown out and dark.

"Yeah? You like daddy's cock?" He growled between split lips upturned into a wicked smile, fangs peeking forward.

You mewled and nodded, only making the cock inside you ram faster.

.

.

.

~ Lyle Wainfleet ~

It was during the post-work glow from pumping iron at the gym, bodies in the aftermath of burning energy, that had you saying the word.

Lyle was flat on the bed while you rode him, fingers gripping the tender flesh of your thighs, not embarrassed in the slightest letting out the loudest, dirtiest groans of pleasure that even the walls would probably get pregnant from hearing.

But who could blame him? His long cock glided effortlessly bouncing to and from the back end of your pussy, jutting his warmth through your walls that had your cheeks deepening in color, skin glistening with a soft luster of sweat. The way you sucked him in and clenched around his length made the world seem to spin on a swivel. All he could focus on was how smooth and wet you slipped around him like a glove.

You were so good to him and so goddamn beautiful as he watched your hole take him with every pass of your slit along his shaft, breasts jiggling to your body hustling up and down, face contorted to the mirrored high he was feeling.

Then there was a pitiful coo, faint enough to be almost lost to the ears by the Corporal's exuberant vocals.

"Mmph, hhmmmph, so good daddy~"

The air stilled and the enthusiasm from the Recom faded, making you stop in worry that you'd done something wrong.

Then your world was suddenly turned over as you were shoved back first into the mattress, legs swinging to the frenzied movements of Lyle's hips now rutting into your cunt from on top.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!!!" you cried, hands squeezing the Corporal's shoulder blades.

"Yeah, lemme hear it~ Let daddy take care of you this time~"

.

.

.

Tags: @thegrandimperfection @blue-bluee @mileswifefr @deliwrites @ikranwings @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @avatar-lover @justasimps-blog @mechformers @whereireid @whxre-bxby @miscellaneousfantasies​

[lgcmanager]

HALLOWEEN 2K24 SECRET REWARDS

halloween celebrations are now long behind. legacy hope that you all enjoyed the celebrations!

REWARD 1 (MODELING GIG)

legacy has been working to strike a deal with NINTENDO, and after several months of negotiations, various legacy talents have been offered a contract. the company carefully sifted through the available artists (contract slots availabilities), looked for those with fitting images (portfolios if available), talent and some public recognition (minimum 25 notoriety, 25 acting and 50 modeling as of december 8). the chosen models have been divided in 4 groups: 

• ANIMAL CROSSING: AHN JAEHWA, CHA SORI, CHOI JUNKYU, LEE HYUNSOO, LEE JIHO, LEE YUSHIN, NAM GYURI, OH EUNHYE, PARK HYUKJAE, SEO YURA, SON NABI, WON YEONWOO, XU LILI, YOO HAEMIN

• POKEMON: CHO MINKYU, KIM CHERRY, LEE MINJI, LIU YUXI, PARK TAEHA, SUNG HANEUL, YANG AERI

• SUPER MARIO BROS WONDER: CARTER JAEJIN, HAN SEUNGHYUN, KANG MINJUN, KIM JINSEO, KIM SEYOON, KIM YUJIN, LIM SANGHYUN, YU MILAN

• SUPER SMASH BROS: CHA HYOSEOP, CHEN MAYLIN, CHOI KAI, HAN HYUNHEE, HAN NOEUL, HIRAWA EMI, KUROSAWA AKIO, MOON JINO, SEO NINA, SU PARKER

congratulations to all of you! the selected models have been privately notified that their current fees are 12 MILLION WON ( $10,000 USD ) per CF for a contract of 6 months ( meaning that from the filming of the CF to the removal of them on broadcast, there will be a total of 6 months ). due to their contract split, they will each be paid 6 MILLION WON ( $5,000 USD ).

( important note: please note that the modeling tab will be updated in the next few days. )

LET'S PLAY!

with the announcement of the nintendo switch 2, the company has decided to show off the new console. artists who have been given contracts will participate in a special 'let's play' youtube series where they will play beloved nintendo games with the new console. for this video, both the artists and their screens will be recorded. so make sure to make it lively and interesting! anybody failing at this task might get their contracts cancelled and requirement reward declined.

REQUIREMENTS:

write a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) about playing your assigned game with another person in your group +5 SKILL POINTS IN MODELING and +7 NOTORIETY. **you may do threads with up to 4 people, all participants will still need to post twice in the thread. each muse can only do one thread for this event**

use the hashtag lgc:gig025 to tag any posts or solo related to the opportunity. make sure to submit your points before MARCH 15, 2025 at 11:59PM EDT to the lgcpoints blog:

TITLE: MUSE NAME · GIG025 - THREAD: +5 MODELING +7 NOTORIETY [ LINK ]

REWARD 2 (FACTIONS WAR)

anyone who has completed both requirements but didn't meet the criteria for the first reward will receive +3 HOSTING and +3 VARIETY instead.

a tally of what has been received follows right under. for points reference, please link this post to your points sheet.

ahn cheol: +3 hosting, +3 variety

ahn jaehwa: modeling contract

ahn seyeon: +3 hosting, +3 variety

bae nathan: +3 hosting, +3 variety

bae sojin: +3 hosting, +3 variety

baek byeongkwan: : +3 hosting, +3 variety

baek seona: : +3 hosting, +3 variety

carter jaejin: modeling contract

cha hyoseop: modeling contract

cha sangwon: +3 hosting, +3 variety

cha sori: modeling contract

chae rua: +3 hosting, +3 variety

chen maylin: modeling contract

cho iseul: +3 hosting, +3 variety

cho minkyu: modeling contract

choi junkyu: modeling contract

choi kai: modeling contract

gong hyejoo: +3 hosting, +3 variety

han hyunhee: modeling contract

han jisoo: +3 hosting, +3 variety

han noeul: modeling contract

han rowon: +3 hosting, +3 variety

han seunghyun: modeling contract

hirawa emi: modeling contract

hwang minki: +3 hosting, +3 variety

ito mio: +3 hosting, +3 variety

jo eunwoo: +3 hosting, +3 variety

kang minjun: modeling contract

kang sarang: +3 hosting, +3 variety

kang yoojoon: +3 hosting, +3 variety

kim cherry: modeling contract

kim jinseo: modeling contract

kim nayoung: +3 hosting, +3 variety

kim seyoon: modeling contract

kim yujin: modeling contract

kuramoto misaki: : +3 hosting, +3 variety

kurosawa akio    : modeling contract

kwon sena: +3 hosting, +3 variety

lee hyunsoo: modeling contract

lee jiho: modeling contract

lee minji: modeling contract

lee yushin: modeling contract

lim sanghyun: modeling contract

liu yuxi: modeling contract

mae jasper: +3 hosting, +3 variety

min soyoun: +3 hosting, +3 variety

moon hayoung: +3 hosting, +3 variety

moon jino: modeling contract

nam gyuri: modeling contract

oh eunhye: modeling contract

park hyukjae: modeling contract

park seojin: +3 hosting, +3 variety

park sujin: +3 hosting, +3 variety

park taeha: modeling contract

park zoe: +3 hosting, +3 variety

seo minseo: +3 hosting, +3 variety

seo nina: modeling contract

seo yura: modeling contract

shin jieun: +3 hosting, +3 variety

son nabi: modeling contract

soo kiyong: +3 hosting, +3 variety

su parker: modeling contract

sung haneul: modeling contract

watanabe miyu: +3 hosting, +3 variety

won yeonwoo: modeling contract

xu lili: modeling contract

xue yichen: +3 hosting, +3 variety

yamashita ichika: +3 hosting, +3 variety

yang aeri: modeling contract

yoo haemin: modeling contract

yu milan: modeling contract

zhu yutai: +3 hosting, +3 variety