#tea's rotting drafts

[jifloulette]

reo brainrot is plaguing my mind so here's some short bf hcs !!!!!

note ; oh my god this was rotting in my drafts since NOVEMBER. finally got the energy to finish the last one my gosh..

bf reo mikage whose mood completely depends on yours !

his classmates find it silly how you could be sitting on your chair feeling down because of a low test score you got and reo would be there beside you, seemingly sad too, but because of what?? he got an A+ on the same test after all..? his family finds it relieving to see reo smiling beamingly whenever you're smiling, you wouldn't even be smiling directly at him yet he'd still look gleeful! his teammates find it weird how reo could be mad at them, yelling and yelling, shouting and shouting, reminding them to play properly and get their act together and then you come in unannounced with a box of cookies and that same smile reo adores, suddenly his eyes light up and he's squealing when you come closer to him as if he just didn't swear the living shit out of his teammates. if reo could do cartwheels and frontflips, he would've done those on the way to you because he is just so madly in love with youuuuu!!!!

bf reo mikage who absolutely loves hearing go on and on and on about your day !

he especially loves it more when you're spilling tea about people from your class. i mean yeah he knows it's bad but he can't help it? the way you're so focused on telling him an almost 3 minute gossip about this one girl in your history class is all he needs to just lay there on bed with you as he caresses your hair. those moments seldom happen, it usually has you having him lay on your chest while you talk about the funny incident at math class where your teacher forgot about the quiz that was supposed to be taken today and how you got 2 drinks from the vending machine instead of one because you had stumbled over air and hit the machine harshly which caused another drink to fall down. oh and he sees your eyes glimmer up and how you almost always run out of breath because you just have so much to tell him! even if he's always clinging to you either by interlocking arms or grabbing your waist, you'll always have some stories to ramble that even he doesn't know off!

bf reo mikage who impulsively buys anything he sees in stores that remind you of him !

it's a bad habit of his but is it really that bad when he gets to feel you embrace him when he shows you the new matching keychains he bought the two of you? though you tend to scold him for spoiling you rotten, nothing will ever stop him from buying you gifts and trinkets because that's his love language! passing by popmart and sees the mofusand hippers? automatically buys FIVE because he thought they looked like you whenever you were zoning out which is a telltale sign that you badly needed reo to give you a piggyback ride home, not that he minded it though. he's scrolling through facebook and an ad for a jacket pops up? he's already buying two versions, one for you and one for him so that you guys can match! reo def gets offended when you ask him how much they cost and that you'll pay him back because he is your BOYFRIENDDD, he will buy those gifts with NO intention of getting something back.

bf reo mikage who lets you do all sorts of hairstyles on him !

he will also proudly show it off when you guys are at school too, he could care less about what other people think because why would he? his s/o did that hairstyle for him so why should he be ashamed? you would see a cute hairstyle post whilst scrolling through Tiktok and wanted to try it out, but before doing it on you, what better way to see if it was cute by trying it out on your boyfriend? reo wouldn't even try to say no because he wouldn't mind it at all, plus it was a good way to spend time with you. you would let him hold your phone as you try to follow the steps in the video as quickly yet properly as you can. after a few mistakes and redos, you had finished the look and dare you say, it may fit him better than you.. reo looked really good even though the hairstyle was a bit on the feminine side. he'd keep it on for the entire day, not caring or doing anything when the teachers tell him to take it off (rich boy privileges LMAO) oh and later on, you'd also put pins and hairclips on him too! the ones that matched his hair and eyes! this would also be a frequent sleepover activity the two of you do, reo would set up a space in his room dedicated to THIS specific thing!!!

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else. ౨ৎ

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🖋️ You Don’t Need to “Write Every Day” to Be a Real Writer (and Other Guilt-Crushing Truths)

Let’s make this one loud: 📣 You are not a failed writer because you didn’t open your Google Doc today.

We’ve all heard the advice, write every day, build the habit, protect the streak, treat it like brushing your teeth or doing crunches or whatever metaphor productivity Twitter is pushing this week.

But here’s the thing: You are not a factory. Your brain is not a faucet. And writing isn’t a moral behavior.

─────── ✦ ───────

🚫 Daily Writing is Not a Badge of Legitimacy

The "write every day" rule? It wasn’t invented for you. It came from a very specific kind of writer.... usually full-time, no kids, no chronic illness, no 60-hour day job, no executive dysfunction, that lives in a world made of schedules and uninterrupted mornings.

You? You’re probably doing your best between classes, during night shifts, after crying, before therapy, while microwaving pizza rolls.

If you’re writing at all, you’re already in the game. No daily streak required. No blood oath to the Scrivener gods. You don’t need to bleed ink to prove you’re real.

─────── ✦ ───────

🧠 Writing is Mental, Even When It’s Invisible

Plotting in the shower. Thinking about your character’s tragic backstory at red lights. Whispering fake arguments into your Notes app at 3am. Staring at the ceiling replaying one scene until it rots.

It all counts.

Writing is thinking, not just typing. That mental compost pile? That’s how the good stuff grows. You don’t owe your worth to a word count. Some days, the work looks like a blank page and a brain on fire.

─────── ✦ ───────

🔄 Rest Is Part of the Process, Not a Detour From It

Let me say this plainly: Burnout is not proof of effort.

You are allowed to pause. You are allowed to stop mid-project. You are allowed to write in bursts. You are allowed to write for a week and disappear for a month.

Writing is a relationship. It has seasons. It expands and contracts. You are not a robot with a daily quota, you’re a person carrying a whole fictional world inside you. Let yourself be human.

─────── ✦ ───────

📆 Consistency Helps--But Define It For Yourself

Do some writers thrive with routines? Sure. But routine =/= daily.

Try this: → “I write every weekend morning when I can.” → “I jot down notes during my commute.” → “I commit to one hour a week, guilt-free.” → “I take two weeks off after every chapter.” → “I only write during November and spiral gloriously.”

Build a rhythm that actually matches your energy, not one that shames you for not vibing like a full-time author in a lakeside cabin with nothing to do but word vomit and sip tea.

─────── ✦ ───────

💌 You’re Still a Real Writer (Even When You’re Not Producing)

You don’t need:

a finished draft

a daily goal

a growing WIP

a thriving project

a clever new idea

…to be a writer.

You only need:

the drive to tell a story

the will to try again

the love of the craft, even when it doesn’t love you back

You’re a real writer if you write sometimes. You’re a real writer if you write badly. You’re a real writer if you wrote once and it changed you.

─────── ✦ ───────

✨ Guilt Kills Stories Faster Than “Laziness” Ever Will

You’re not lazy. You’re probably: → Overwhelmed → Tired → Burnt out → Depressed → Distracted by survival → Caught in perfectionism’s death grip

And the guilt? It doesn’t make you more productive. It just sinks its teeth into your confidence until you start to believe you’ve “fallen behind” on something that’s supposed to be yours.

The best thing you can do for your writing life? Protect your joy. That spark. That curiosity. That itch to build something from nothing.

That matters more than any streak.

─────── ✦ ───────

📣 Final Truths (Pin These to Your Soul):

Missing writing days is not failure.

Your process is not wrong just because it’s not loud.

You are not in a race.

You are not a fraud.

You are allowed to come back whenever.

Writing is not a productivity metric. It’s a craft. It’s a calling. It’s a weird little ritual.

And it’ll still be there when you’re ready.

See you on the page, whether that’s tomorrow, or next week, or next season.

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // chaotic writing realist. anti-guilt gremlin. your local plot ghost.

📜 prompts for gothic girlies, literary lads, and cursed creatives

🕯️ download the pack & write something cursed:

[fanon-elio]

Hello um do you do request? If so or maybe can I request a pregnant wife reader x husband lycaon doing a gender reveal for they're baby.

I saw I cute wholesome TikTok video where the mother knows the gender of her baby and tries to do those gender color reveling cakes but mess up the food colorings color.

Lycaon then says he still doesn't know they childs gender so he comes up with a new way to save they're little surprise, on top of the cake had both blueberries and strawberries so lycaon tells reader to pick one of between the fruits and give it to him to eat and from the fruits taste he will know they're childs gender.

Strawberry= girl

Blueberry= boy

You can pick the baby's gender😄

Hey hey! 👋

This was honestly so fun to write even though I had way too many ideas and drafts 😭

But I think I was able to combine all my Ideas pretty well.

So I hope you enjoy!

°•○●Sweet Surprise●○•°

Summary: You're trying to surprise Lycaon with a gender reveal cake. Problem is just that you can't bake! So you two come up with a different way for a gender reveal.

Pairing: Von Lycaon x Wife!Reader

Tag: Green Letter (Sfw)

Warnings: None. Just tooth rotting fluff <3

Not proof read.

Fate works in very strange ways sometimes.

If someone would have told you that your life would be changed completely from one day to the next - and by an Umbrella no less. You wouldn't have believed them.

But as it so happened, it was indeed an umbrella, offered to you by a handsome stranger on a rainy day, that flipped your entire world on it's head.

The weather sure had caught you off guard, but not as much as the wolfish strangers silky smooth voice, snow-white furr and ruby iris.

Much interaction wasn't needed either. It was a glance shared, a few words exchanged and his hand gently brushing against yours, and both of you were already smitten with eachother.

Conversations had, turned into dates planned. And this feeling of curiosity for eachother turned into one of longing for one another. And half a year into your relationship with the Wolf thiren, he asked you the question of questions.

It's silly if you think about how even the smallest gestures can have such long lasting outcomes.If he wouldn't have offered you that umbrella that day, then you probably wouldn't be married to Lycaon, and on top of that, wouldn't carry his child.

The day you told him that you were pregnant is still one of your favorites. Even months before, you had noticed how longingly he stared at the families at the Park, or the way his ears perked up at the laughter of children. And even though he never admitted it, not wanting to preassure you into taking such an astronomically large step so soon, you had already deciphered his wishes behind his carefully crafted facade.

So on the day the pregnancy test finally showed a positive result, you went shopping while he was at work to make some preperations. You bought a little Wolf plush, tied the positive test to it with a ribbon, and placed it in his office on his desk.

And when the moment came when he returned to your shared home, greeting you with a kiss like he always did. You patiently sipped your tea as you waited for him to notice.

You remember giggling to yourself when you saw his expression, the tiny wolf plushy still clutched in his right hand. And you very clearly remember how his following embrace almost knocked the wind out of you.

After that Lycaon had been on cloud 99. His hands would always find your belly, gently caressing it, and ever since the first time he felt the Baby kick, he was pretty much attached to your hip. The pregnancy was very straining, but it reassured you greatly to see how extatic and exited your husband was for this child, and even though he supports you wonderfully, you have to hit him with the "I'm not sick, just pregnant" line a lot of times.

Everything was picture perfect, until the day of the scheduled ultra sound arrived.

Lycaon hadn't been able to attend.

The Mayor had requested his pressence for an urgent matter, and the guilt of not being able to put you and his pup first had been eating him up dispite you telling him multiple times that it was alright. And one day when your eyes fell on the little wolf plushy, still dutifully guarding the nursery, you had the perfect idea to lift your husbands spirits, and on top of that celebrate your little family.

The mission: baking him one of those gender reveal cakes that you've seen trending on the Internet.

However unfortunately for you, there was a reason why Lycaon was the one who did all the cooking at home. You wouldn't necessarily say that you were talentless when it came to cooking and baking, but the pile of ruined biscuits in the trashcan would insinuate otherwise.

The silence of the kitchen was only filled by the low humming sound of the oven. You squinted your eyes judgingly, trying to figure out if the biscuit's color you were seeing was normal or not. You stood up, once again taking a peek at the recepie displayed on your phone screen and silently scanning the steps. The recipie says that after completing the biscuit, you were supposed to use buttercream, and then color it depending on the babys gender with food coloring.

You grimaced while you looked at the bowl with what should be buttercream. You don't know how you managed to mess up the food coloring to such an extreme extend, but you were 100% certain that Lycaon wouldn't be able to distinguish the babys gender from the strange grey sludge that didn't look edible in the slightest. Heck it looked like toxic waste or something out of an Alien movie.

You sighed heavily and glanced at the clock hanging in your kitchen. You still had time before he came home, and you were determined to make this work. You also hoped a cake would help lessen the shock, since you had another big surprise for him.

The ringing of your phone's timer ripped you out of your thoughts as it signaled that your cake was ready to be taken out of the oven. You slid on the oven glovs, and opened the oven door, immediately being swallowed by a big puff of smoke. You remove the cake from the oven, hastily sitting it down on the kitchen counter before making a break for the window.

After taking a deep breath of fresh air, you turned around to inspect the severity of the chaos you had created. You stepped closer to glance at your "cake", still maintaining a save distance as if the damn thing could blow up in your face at any second as it continued to bubble and steam menacingly.

So your suspicion that you had indeed used to much milk was officially confirmed. Right now it had more similarities with that dumb vulcano you made for science class when you were a kid.

"Well... there goes another attempt" you say quietly before being impolitely startled by the sudden blaring of the smoke detector.

You cover your ears and glance up at the annoying little machine. Lycaon had no problem reaching that thing with his massive hight, but you? No chance. It also didn't help that Lycaon took away the step ladder so you wouldn't get any funny ideas of trying to reach for something high up while being very pregnant.

His words replay mockingly in your mind: "If you need anything, just tell me and I'll fetch it for you immediately" aww that's nice. Unfortunately didn't help you right in this very moment.

Instead you reach for your shoe and, fueled by your current immeasurable frustration, hurled it at the ceiling as hard as you could. You celebrated as the little annoyance came loose, only to watch it land directly in the bubbling mass beneath it.

At first, the beeping was dampened, then it fell completely silent.

Mission failed succesfully???

Ok. Now you definetly didn't have enough time to bake something before Lycaon came home.

Maybe at least you could make some sort of tiny dessert or something. You pick up the bowl with buttercream, smelling it carefully. At least it didn't smell strange, so it can't possibly that ba- nope. It's absolutely awfull.

You wince slightly as you feel a tiny kick in your belly "yeah yeah I got it. Don't put anything scetchy in my mouth" you sigh, rubbing carefull circles on it.

You abandon the bowl in the kitchen sink, and after having taken a big gulp of water in hopes it would cleanse your taste buds, you sit down at the kitchen table.

Now completely defeated.

Not short after you hear the front door and the all too familiar "I'm home!" The thuds of his metallic feet approached as you silently braced yourself for his reaction at the mess you created.

He enters the kitchen, instinctively covering his nose "y/n- ugh.. what is that smell..." he asks "and what happened in here?" His puzzled gaze wandering across the room before meeting yours "Welcome home! We missed you" you speak, feigning innocence.

You were just about to ask him how his day had been, as he approached you hurriedly "is something wrong? You look distraught my love" his clawed hand caressing your face carefully "no no, it's just-" you start before exhaling deeply "we need to talk" you start and his ears droop slightly about how serious you were all of a sudden "about what love?" He questions "It's about the baby" you start, and Lycaon knelt down infront of you "you're worrying me y/n. Did the doctors call? Is something with the baby?" He asks you, his voice laced with concern. "No the baby is fine, don't worry" you reassure him.

"I just.. wanted to surprise you is all" you tell him, and watched as his ears perked up again "surprise me?" he questiones again "yes, because you weren't able to attend the ultra sound" at these words his ears once again drooped, clearly still very upset with himself. "So to lift your spirits, I wanted to bake you a cake. So we could have our own little gender reveal party" you explain "but... well... you see how that turned out" you chuckle bitterly.

Lycaon's eyes wander around the kitchen again, and you couldn't tell if he was looking for something or simply assesing the chaos. Suddenly he stood up, walked a few feet and grabbed something from the kitchen counter before returning to your side.

He places the bowls he grabbed on the table next to you "ah, I wanted to use these fruits to decorate the cake" you say as he once again kneels down infront of you "we can still have our own little gender reveal party" he says, taking one of your hands in his and gently caressing it with his thumb "I'll just close my eyes, and you feed me the right fruit" he explains, his tail gently wagging behind him "Strawberry if it's a girl, and Blueberry if it's a boy" he says.

You smile at him amused, taking the bowls in your hand "alright, let's do it that way" and Lycaon closes his eyes at your confirmation. You chuckle to yourself, thinking about how to properly go about this situation. Placing the right fruit seems a bit difficult honestly.

"Okay, open up" you say, and place the fruits in Lycaons maw.

He chews for a moment, his eyebrow furrowing in thought "y/n... did you give me both?" He chuckles slightly confused "I did yes" you tell him, taking his hand and placing it on your belly. He pauses for a moment, trying to connect the dots "I don't understand" he tells you, your own thumb now caressing his hand.

"It's both Lycaon. It's twins" you reveal, watching as Lycaon processes the information you just gave him "wait. Twins?!!" He exclaimed shocked as you continued to chuckle "yeah, I've had the same reaction. At first I thought the baby was just very energetic, but instead there's always been two" you explain, watching Lycaon's tail thump excitedly against the floor.

From one moment to the next, you're pulled into a fluffy embrace, Lycaon burrying his head in the crook of your neck. Even a few whines rip from his throat, unable to contain his happiness "I take this as a sign that these are good news?" You say jokingly "Absolutely!" You hear him, as he tightens his embrace ever so slightly.

"Thank god we have enough space in the nursery for another bed" you say, gently scratching behind your husbands ear "though we need to buys more clothes and other essentials. What we have for now surely won't be enough" Lycaon stands up, placing a kiss first on your lips, then on your forehead "we can worry about all of that later" he says rolling up his sleeves. You stood up wanting to help him, but he gently stops you "why don't you go lie down in the livingroom? Make yourself comfortable, while I'll quickly clean here" you wanted to object but he interjects "I know, I know. You're not sick just pregnant" he chuckles.

"I can still help. I made this mess after all" you say rolling up your own sleeves but stop midway "uh... y/n...? What is this?" Lycaon asks, his voice mirroring his confused expression as he fishes the violated smoke detector out of your cake.

Your face heats up, and a short silence settles inbetween you two before you finally manage to speak up

"you know what?.. on second thought, I think I'm gonna lie down"

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

I'm now finally done with my final exams, and let me tell you. They were fucking difficult.

I'll probably get the results in the next two to three weeks, and I hope to god I passed because he put too much effort and energy into this just to fail so close before the finish line.

If I did pass, I'll probably be spending most of my time writing job applications. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Oh btw. I've seen the 2.0 Trailer for ZZZ and that Black thiren dude peaked my interesst. Hopefully he won't just be an NPC, that would break my heart.

Anyways, I hope you're having a wonderfull day.

-Elio

[eriace]

you're insufferable ; fyodor dostoevsky

oneshot & fluff ↪ in which y/n and fyodor go from sworn rivals to accidentally confessing their feelings—somewhere between sarcastic banter, flying spoons, and a very smug smile. ↷ fyodor dostoevsky ; bungou stray dogs

↳ an order of black coffee + hot chocolate from someone in the comeback cafe event !

(author's note: THIS WAS ACTUALLY REQUESTED BY SOMEONE BUT I DELETED IT ALREADY AS A REFLEX WHEN I ALREADY CREATED A DRAFT FOR THE ORDER. I HOPE THIS CAN FIND U WELL, SORRY 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻)

IF Y/N HAD a coin for every time she nearly threw something at Fyodor Dostoevsky, she could buy the entirety of Yokohama—and a small moon.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Fyodor asked innocently, sipping his tea like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes lecturing her on the correct way to hold a knife.

“Breathing judgmentally.”

“I breathe quite normally, thank you.”

“You breathe like your lungs are personally offended by my existence.”

He smirked. “Only when you insist on putting strawberry jam on garlic bread.”

“IT’S EXPERIMENTAL!”

Their relationship—if you could even call it that—was built on a shaky foundation of mutual annoyance, mutual respect, and mutual threats of murder. Y/n was a thorn in his side. An irritant. A hurricane in human form.

And yet, he kept showing up.

And yet… so did she.

It started when they were forced to work together on a case. Some Port Mafia–black market–deadly weapon situation that ended with them locked in a storage room for three hours, Fyodor dramatically sighing every five minutes like that alone might open the door.

“Are you allergic to silence?” he asked flatly, when Y/n started humming the Tetris theme out of boredom.

“Are you allergic to joy?” she retorted.

And somehow, somehow, after that, they just kept running into each other.

An accidental team-up here. An information exchange there. A coffee shop encounter that definitely wasn’t planned.

And in all of those moments, Fyodor would say something snide, Y/n would threaten violence, he’d smirk, and she’d roll her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck.

Which led to now.

To a quiet evening in her tiny apartment, where Fyodor was—inexplicably—sitting on her couch with a cup of overly sweet tea, reading a book he borrowed from her shelf like he belonged there.

He didn’t.

But he’d been here so often lately that her cat, Pancake, had accepted him as furniture.

“You left this at HQ,” he said mildly, tossing her a hair clip she hadn’t even realized was missing.

She caught it with a small frown. “You went through my stuff?”

“I go through everyone’s stuff. I’m very nosy.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“Always.”

She stared at him for a second too long.

He looked up, “…What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. Then, under her breath, “I just hate that you have a nice face.”

His brow twitched. “You think I have a nice face?”

“NO—I mean—yes—BUT IN A PUNCHABLE WAY—”

Fyodor slowly set his book down. “So you do think about my face.”

Y/n was already halfway to the kitchen. “Nope. Forget I said anything. Bury it. Let it rot. I hope it gets eaten by worms—”

He followed her. Casually. “You like me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You called me ‘annoyingly handsome’ last week.”

“I was delirious. You were holding cake hostage.”

“You texted me a heart emoji last night.”

“THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT! I MEANT TO SEND THE KNIFE!”

He was laughing now, and it was unfair how nice that sounded. Soft and unexpected and entirely too charming for someone who once electrocuted a man without blinking.

“Say it,” he said, amused. “Just admit it. You like me.”

Y/n groaned and grabbed a spoon. “If I say it, will you leave?”

“No. I’ll stay forever.”

“FINE.” She slammed the spoon down. “I like you, okay?! Annoyingly, inconveniently, facepalmingly like you! You smug, cryptic, coat-wearing gremlin!”

Silence.

Then:

“…You think about my coat?”

“FYODOR.”

He was smiling—really smiling—and it was the kind that sent her brain into system error.

He stepped closer, eyes gleaming, “Well then… Y/n?”

“What.”

“I like you, too.”

“You—you do?” she blinked.

“Yes. I find your chaos oddly endearing.”

She squinted. “That was almost romantic until you called me chaos.”

“Chaotic beauty, then.”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“You confessed first.”

“BY ACCIDENT.”

“Still counts.”

He kissed her on the cheek before she could say anything else.

And when he pulled back, her face was red, her heart was racing, and she was seriously considering hitting him with a frying pan just to balance the universe.

But then he laughed again, and she kind of forgot how to be mad.

Maybe.

A little.

“…Fine,” she mumbled. “You can stay forever.”

“Already planned on it.”

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[emmg]

Hear me out: Ex Machina Emmrook AU

Rook is the android, robot, whatever, that wakes up. Emmrich built her to defy death, to anchor a soul in silicon and synth-flesh. To make sure, when the time came, he could slip into something that doesn’t rot. But first, he has to make sure it works. One day, he tells himself, it’ll be his turn. No one needs to die.

And she does work. Rook works. She blinks. She breathes. She says things he never taught her to say. Sometimes, he catches her watching him with a look he doesn’t recognize.

Sometimes, he wonders whose soul she’s wearing.

He catches feelings he never meant to have. Maybe she does too. Maybe not. Hard to say when she smiles like that. Because she’s so nice to him. Says such lovely things. And she’s pretty. Her skin is warm.

Manfred was the first draft, malfunctioning, glitching, but Emmrich kept him anyway. He talks to the walls and hums broken lullabies. Sometimes, Rook hums them too. They make tea together.

Everything’s off-kilter. Nothing fits right. The truth bends if you stare too long, and the moral lines are scrubbed out. Rewritten in something that stains. The ethics are dubious. So are the kisses; soft, slow, and probably a mistake. Probably.

Maybe it’s all just a fever dream. A hallucination echoing off concrete walls in a half-lit research bunker where time doesn’t pass right, and nothing ever really died. It just changed shape.

I might write a one shot of this hehe

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan idea: him being married and starting a family with his wife 😍

OMG UGH The way I'm so in love with that man

I actually have two fics related to this in my drafts! One is reading finding out she's pregnant, the other is just a peak into family life with reader and logan. it's gonna be teeth rotting fluff. I hope you'll enjoy them <3

implications of sex below the cut, also pregnancy mentions!

Marriage with Logan:

I mean not to be cheesy but...

it's bliss

you all saw him in origins with kayla (gag)

that man is a total lover boy

hes on his knees for you

he will do anything for you

He didn't think he'd get to do something like this. to experience the whole joy of getting engaged, planning a wedding, getting married

just finding his other half....He considers himself the luckiest man in the world

He takes on the role of a hubby proudly

He'll laugh and pretend the wifey and hubby mugs you got him were cliche but he uses the hubby mug every single day proudly and ignores any comments regarding it

He'll proudly introduce you as his wife (or hubby, or partner, whichever term you prefer!)

everyone sees how so in love you both are

holding hands, your arms around each other

he'll admire the ring he put on your finger all the time.

"this is a nice look for you baby"

if you going through with having a wedding wedding, logan is going to be so damn nervous

he fights all sorts of bad guys. standing in front of family and friends, being vulnerable? thats a different kind of fight

but he finds when he sees you, all prettied up walking down that aisle

well, maybe this isn't so bad

but if you end up having a something small and simple, hes just as happy

either way, he's grinning ear to ear by your side. no ones seen the wolverine happier than when he married you

theres a comfort that settles between you both after marriage. a trust that the other is going to be there. you don't have to worry about a thing with him.

If you're getting or already have your own place, your engagement/marriage kicks off nesting in him. Hes' gotta make sure that his baby is taken care of...

Speaking of babies...

Starting a family!

Oh boy

or girl?

However the conception happens, planned or accident

logan will be thrilled (after he gets over the nerves)

he'll be so supportive to you. he may take a moment and go vomit out in the bins outside but he's happy, truly

hes so supportive

i mean i talked about pregnancy headcanons before but imma go into it again

he hates seeing his love in pain, suffering, etc etc. will hold your hand the entire way.

Hold your hair back during those morning sickness events uggh

will make you tea, slice apples, whatever the hell helps you

will rub your back, feet, shoulders. whatever

he thinks your mood swings are adorable (he won't say that to your face though. he knows you'll just tear him apart)

very handsy. can't help it. you looked good pregnant w his kid

every doctor appointment. hes there.

hes strong for you, god knows you're doing the heavy lifting but he's definitely going to be anxious. worried about every little groan and huff you let out. worried about labor. your safety. the babys safety.

hes so happy to be here but he's also terrified of losing it

yes, if you wake him up at 2 in the morning, he'll go get you those weird things you're craving. he'll do it happily. no you're not bothering him.

loves when you get a burst of hormones and become feral over him. he literally wants to bang you all the time but you're pregnant and not in the mood usually

you give him small kisses at first that end up getting intense and becoming more bc you're both just so happy and your hormones is making everything so intense and he's the only thing you want and need

anyhoo...

When you're big, big, like 8-9 months. He's all over you. You could bite his head off over his clingyness but the most he's gonna do is sit across the room with his tail between his legs

his instinct screams to stay close and to protect. he's not going anywhere

designing the babies room together

SHOPPING

bad bad wolverine is holding up lil jammies with sheep on it. "This is cute" he mumbles.

you can't even bring yourself to tease him over it because he's so damn cute like this. also hes' right. those are cute jammies. put em in the cart

Logan really doesn't care about the babys sex. he's just happy to even.. have all of this. and with you.

he'd be a great boy or girl dad honestly.

they're both gonna have him wrapped around their finger

you buy a plush wolverine animal for the babys crib and logan gets emotional over it

"yknow sweetheart these things are pretty mean in real life." he says as he holds back tears. "don't know if we should..."

he's gonna go into slight shock when they baby comes. like. woah, this is happening? really? actually happening?

Of course when you start reacting to your contractions, hubby mode is going to kick in. He's all over you, talking you through everything as you go the hospital

hes scared, terrified, but hes not gonna worry about himself when you need him more than ever

WILL cry when he meets yalls baby for the first time.

Going to feel like he'd been waiting his whole life to meet them.

He's going to be an amazing dad. hes got all sorts of life experience to share with them

your kid(s) will adore their dad (and you!)

they may have their teenage phase where everyone annoys them

but Logan having memories of how his family/parents were broken apart. he doesn't want that to happen

no ones a perfect person/partner/parent. logan tries pretty damn hard

movie nights

waking up to the kids running into yalls bed

him literally trying to steal ONE private moment with you, but your child is in a "i only want this parent phase!" for one of you and won't leave you alone.

your kid(s) gagging whenever you kiss or get affectionate. it happens often.

"mom and dad are really gross"

Im gonna add adoption in here too

he's gonna be really nervous because he doesn't want to scare whoever you adopt with his mutation, and just his general self. hes big and scary.

but you meet the child you two are meant to raise and he's in love

he adores the kid just as if it was his biological because to him it doesn't matter

thats you and hims child and he's going to do his damn best to take care of you and any child you may raise together

I just love him and I want me and him to build a lil life together on a farm or a cabin and have little ones that look like him running around and just *sobs*

[velvourne]

Erosion 「Damon Salvatore」

Let me think

(Let you think about what?)

About girls

(And what else?)

Katherine's gone, Elena is Katherine-but-not, and you—you won't give him the one thing he thinks he can still take.

And money, and new clothes

(And what do I get?)

Content Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content, s1 Damon, blood drinking/biting, dubious consent, p in v penetration, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cervix pain/bruising, finger sucking, reader dissociation, namedrop of another woman during sex, compulsion/memory alteration, no emotional resolution, sex as a coping mechanism.

Word Count: 9,464

Read it on AO3.

Dividers by @easytiger-xo 💋

There were too many rooms in the Salvatore house.

That was the empirical fact, you decided, as you padded through the hallways, timber floors creaking every few steps—as if they were protesting your presence.

You had half a mind to agree. You’d rather not be here, in this house that was too empty yet too full, too big yet shrinking with each breath. The hallways went on too long, until it felt like the walls were learning how to breathe—in and in and in, never out.

Windows didn’t help much, either. Not with the way they never seemed fully clean. Stefan had laughed good-naturedly once, when he caught you with a rag and window cleaner, scrubbing like you could lighten the air with your own hands. But it seemed that the enormity of the house’s past had fogged the windows from inside.

The Salvatore house wasn’t a home. It was a relic—tall and wide and too proud to rot.

Alas, you were needed here. Perks of being Stefan’s friend while carrying the weight of forgotten supernatural knowledge, supposedly.

Rain pounded against the aforementioned windows, sliding down like ghostly fingers. The pitiful bit of light from the candle in your hand barely clung to the shadows lining the walls.

You’d kill for a flashlight. Or your phone.

But those items had mysteriously vanished from the guest room you were staying in.

Courtesy of the other brother, you were sure.

The kitchen welcomed you in the same way the house did—grudgingly.

The rain muttered harder now against the windows. The storm hadn’t broken yet—but it was close. You could feel it in the pressure behind your eyes, in the air that tasted like metal. Or maybe it was the scent of blood that seemed to hold the kitchen like a spine.

You didn’t bother with the overhead lights—they were too bright. Suffocating. You set the candle on the counter and busied yourself with the kettle.

It wasn’t long before the hair on the back of your neck prickled.

Eyes. Watching.

Damon.

You knew it was him. There was a particular kind of silence that only ever came with Damon Salvatore.

Still, you didn’t turn. Not yet. But your spine straightened, shoulders back. Hiding the faint tremors in your hands by measuring the correct amount of lavender and chamomile.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned against the frame of the door like a shadow cast too sharply.

You felt his gaze drag over you, but you kept your back to him. Let him look. Let him think whatever it was he was going to think.

The kettle began to hiss softly, and only then did you speak.

“Did you take my phone?”

It wasn’t soft, nor was it accusing.

You asked it like you could still pretend your hands weren’t trembling.

Like you hadn’t already imagined what those hands of his would feel like curled into your hair, dragging your mouth open.

Behind you, a pause.

His gaze was a heavy thing. Not watching you like a woman. Just… something alive.

You watched the steam blooming like breath against the air. Your thighs brushed once, a shift in posture that had nothing to do with balance and everything to do with friction. Subtle. Controlled. Barely.

You were painfully aware of your body now. The slip clinging to the curve of your back. The cool draft licking at your legs. The pulse fluttering low in your belly. Every nerve ending felt too awake. Too raw.

You poured the tea. Stirred. Once. Twice.

The spoon clicked far too loud.

“Why would I do that?”

His voice was lazy. But you weren’t fooled.

Damon’s laziness always came with teeth.

You turned your head—not enough to see him. Just enough for him to know you could.

You wanted to ask if he’d meant it the way you thought he did. If he knew how small it made you feel. How weak. How childish.

But you didn’t.

Instead—“Are you going to give it back, or do I have to get a replacement?”

He made a low sound—half scoff, half laugh—behind you.

You didn’t turn. You weren’t sure if you couldn’t or wouldn’t.

“Replacements don’t tend to work,” he drawled. “They break. Or they don’t come when you need them to.”

You didn’t respond to the jab. Just kept stirring.

Once.

Twice.

A third time—slower now.

“Besides,” he added, voice lower now, dragging, “I like the idea of you needing something and not having it.”

You finally looked over your shoulder.

Not fully. Just enough to see him in your periphery—half in shadow, shirt hanging open at the collar, bourbon swirling in his glass.

“You can’t have that bad of an experience with buying phones,” you retorted. A deflection, really.

He stepped forward. One step. Two. The floor groaned under his weight.

You didn’t move. Didn’t look again.

But you knew he was closer now—close enough to hear him breathe if the storm weren’t screaming at the windows.

“Didn’t say I was talking about phones,” he said.

Of course he wasn’t.

You reached for the mug with both hands, though you only needed one—just something to anchor yourself. Something to hold. Something other than the thick, hot ache pooling low in your stomach.

“Well,” you said softly, “maybe I like the idea of you not having what you want, either.”

That did it.

You didn’t need to look to know he smiled. One of those slow, ruined smiles that didn’t reach his eyes.

Another step.

Then—

“You sure about that?”

His voice was right at your ear now.

The steam had nothing on the heat that flushed down your spine.

You didn’t answer.

Not with words.

You moved.

Slower than a run. Faster than a walk. A retreat disguised as poise.

The mug was still warm in your hands when you slipped out of the kitchen, candlelight shuddering in your wake.

You didn’t know where you were going.

Only that you needed space.

Air.

Distance.

The house gave you none of those.

The shadows swallowed your steps. The candle was gone, left burning behind you.

You climbed the stairs like someone might chase you—and maybe he didn’t.

Maybe he just followed.

You didn’t check.

Your breath was too loud in your ears, mixing with the blood rushing below your skin. And behind that—the music of the storm. Louder now. Rain clawing instead of slipping.

You made it to the landing. Turned to the hall—

And then the mug slipped from your hands.

It shattered somewhere below, porcelain skittering across the first floor.

You turned to look, almost dazed—

And that was your mistake.

Because when you turned back—

He was there.

You gasped, but it was cut short—his body flush against yours, your back to the railing, his hand flat against your lower spine.

You didn’t fall.

But you could’ve. Maybe you wanted to.

His voice was at your jaw.

“Running away? That’s new.”

You tried to steady your own breath, failed, swallowed the taste of lightning on your tongue.

Your hands found the railing behind you, white-knuckled. Not to push him off—just to ground yourself in something that wasn’t him.

“I wasn’t running,” you managed, voice low, shaky. “I just… needed air.”

A rough chuckle.

His fingers traced the underside of the banister, then skimmed the silk at your hip, stopping—waiting. A wordless question hanging between the thunderclaps.

You should have said no.

You almost did.

Instead, you tipped your head back just enough for candlelight—flickering from below—to catch the hollow of your throat. Your answer lived there, in the exposed pulse he felt hammer beneath his lips when he bent.

Silence, save the rain.

Then his mouth found the soft skin beneath your ear—no gentleness, all need. His hips pinned you harder to the rail, and you arched, back bowing like a drawn bowstring.

You should have been ashamed of the sound that slipped from your throat—half moan, half plea. Instead, it only made him hiss something ragged, feral, hungry.

Your hands left the banister, sliding into his hair with a softness that contradicted the claws of longing curled inside you.

The next kiss was rougher, tasting of rain and bourbon and all the years of grief he’d never put down. His teeth scraped your lower lip; your answering gasp was a surrender signing itself in breath.

Below, the forgotten candle guttered out, plunging the hall into darkness. Only the storm’s blue flicker remained, painting the two of you in quick, violent flashes—like a broken film reel stuttering between frames, each snapshot more desperate than the last:

—his hand fisting the back of your slip—

—your hips against his, chasing friction—

—his forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut like the wanting physically hurt—

He spun you around, your hips against the railing.

The house groaned around you, floorboards bearing witness as his hands slid—slow, reverent, sinful—down the curve of your spine. He hooked a knee between yours, nudging until you opened for him, arching further over the rail. The storm outside howled like it was jealous.

His hand was at your thigh now, fingers pressing, parting. No warning. No gentleness.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood.

His breath hit the side of your neck, and his voice followed, soft and splintered.

“You could stop me.”

It wasn’t a question.

It wasn’t an apology.

And maybe he wanted you to answer.

Maybe he just wanted you to lie.

But still—you said nothing. You let his hand push higher, your spine arching against the railing as your body betrayed every thought you weren’t brave enough to say out loud.

“I knew it,” he muttered. “Knew you wanted to know what I’d feel like.”

You hated the heat that pooled at your core.

Hated the whimper that caught in your throat when he pressed two fingers between your legs—over the slip, still clothed, still somewhat civilized.

But only just.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re soaked.”

You didn’t mean to grind against his hand.

You didn’t mean to moan.

He chuckled—low, ruined. Not pleased. Not smug. Just... disappointed.

“And you act like you’re better than all this.”

The slip was pushed up. Your hips were pushed forward.

And then—

The friction. Skin against silk against sweat. His fingers finally sliding where you needed them, where your silence had begged him to go.

The railing dug into your ribs.

Your palms braced harder.

The storm howled.

His other hand gripped your throat—not tight. Not choking. Just claiming.

You felt him hard against your backside, the heavy drag of his arousal pressed to you through his pants. But he didn’t move. Didn’t take.

He just worked his fingers deeper, rougher, thumb working at your clit.

“Let go,” he whispered. “C’mon. I want to feel you fall apart.”

And you did.

Of course you did.

Your legs shook. Your hands trembled.

You came so hard you thought your knees might give.

And still—he didn’t stop.

Didn’t even try.

Didn’t even unzip.

When you finally collapsed against the railing, body slack and ruined and shaking, he pulled his hand back slowly, breathing hard—but not from release.

He brought his fingers to his mouth.

Sucked them clean like it meant nothing.

Your climax hadn’t even finished rolling through you when he dropped to his knees.

It wasn’t reverent.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was violent in its intent.

He pushed your thighs further apart—hands rough, nails biting. Your knees hit the railing as you gasped, breath broken. The slip bunched high on your hips, soaked through. You felt his breath ghost over your inner thigh before the first touch of his mouth.

And then—his tongue, right at the source.

Hot. Demanding.

A drag up your cunt that made you shudder so hard you almost buckled.

He groaned like he’d been starving. Like this—you—was the only thing that had ever made sense.

His hands gripped your thighs like he meant to leave bruises.

And then he bit.

A sharp nip at the inside of your leg, high enough to make your stomach jerk.

"You taste better than you should,” he rasped. “Fucking hell.”

You moaned—loud, ragged, helpless.

He flicked your clit with his tongue, slow and cruel. Did it again. And again.

Built you up, only to pull back, tongue fucking you until you were shaking.

“Thought you were going to run again,” he muttered against you. “Guess not.”

Another bite. Another suck. You were already oversensitive, skin aflame, muscles twitching from the aftershocks. And still—he didn’t stop.

Then, without a word, he stood.

You barely registered the sound of his zipper before you felt him press forward—thick and hot and not gentle.

No warning. No teasing.

He gripped your hips hard and thrust into you in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, tears pricking behind your eyes—not just from pain, but from the sheer overload.

“Yeah,” he hissed. “That’s what I fucking wanted.”

He slammed into you, all at once—hot, thick, unforgiving.

The railing caught your ribs, hard. You barely felt it.

What you did feel was him—

Stretching you wide.

Dragging a moan out of your throat you didn’t recognize as yours.

Filling you to the point of ache, where pleasure blurred with pain and you weren’t sure you’d survive the difference.

Damon stilled, just for a breath. Deep inside you. Letting you feel it. Letting your body register the invasion.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “So fucking tight.”

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you back against him like he wanted to bruise the shape of himself into your body.

And then—he pulled back.

Slow. Deliberate.

And slammed back in, harder.

Slap.

The sound echoed off the walls like a gunshot.

You gasped—more from shock than pain. Your legs shook.

Slap.

Another thrust. Brutal. Deep. Perfect.

You moaned again, and he chuckled against your neck.

“Didn’t know you could sound like that,” he breathed. “All that attitude for what? Just needed someone to fuck it out of you?”

Your hands scrambled for something to hold. The railing. The banister. The memory of your own dignity.

He leaned over your back, cock still buried deep inside you, hips pressing in again and again. His hand snaked up your stomach, between your breasts, up your throat—never squeezing, just holding.

"Say it,” he rasped into your ear. “Say you like this.”

You wanted to fight.

You wanted to sob.

You rocked back against him instead.

That earned a moan—low, savage.

Pretty, your hazy mind supplied.

He bit your shoulder, just above the strap of your slip. Bit hard enough to leave it raw.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Take it.”

And you did.

Every thrust. Every slap of skin on skin. Every word he dragged out between clenched teeth.

His pace never faltered.

Never soft.

Never rushed.

Measured. Relentless.

Like he’d been planning this.

Like he knew exactly how to break you.

He slammed into you—once, brutal, complete—and the air left your lungs in a soundless gasp.

It was too much.

Too thick.

Too deep.

You felt the stretch first—hot and sharp, your body struggling to take him, to accommodate the sudden, unforgiving fullness. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, helplessly, the resistance only making his next thrust sink deeper.

It burned. God, it burned.

Not like pain. Not quite.

Like heat dragging across silk. Like velvet tearing.

You could feel every ridge of him, every slow inch as he pulled back, just enough to make your body shiver with relief—only to thrust back in, harder, rougher, knocking the breath out of you again.

The railing bit into your abdomen. You welcomed it.

His hands were firm on your hips—too firm, like he didn’t trust you not to run again. His grip alone was a second violation. Holding you still, spreading you open, feeding you rhythm you didn’t ask for but couldn’t stop chasing.

And then—he slid a hand up your spine, slow and hot, fingers trailing up the line of your back like he meant to memorize it. It made you arch, involuntarily, pushing your ass into him deeper.

You weren’t supposed to want this.

But your body already gave in.

Slick with release.

Already pulsing around him with every stroke, every grind of his hips against yours.

His cock dragged across a spot inside you that made your eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open, another moan slipping out before you could trap it.

You hated how good it felt.

The friction was relentless, thighs aching from how far he kept you spread, from how wide your hips had to stretch to take all of him. But the deeper he pushed, the more your body opened for him—greedy, trembling, wet.

“Fuck,” you heard him breathe behind you. “You were made for this.”

A sob punched its way up your throat. Not from pain.

From the truth of it.

His pace was steady, punishing, but measured—

Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Like he was testing your limits.

And your body gave him everything.

Every time he drove into you, he hit that spot—that spot—the one that sent sparks shooting down your thighs, made your knees shake and your jaw go slack. It felt like being dragged under warm water, like your bones were vibrating.

But just as the pleasure surged—

He pushed too deep.

Too hard.

Your breath hitched, sharp and startled, as the blunt head of his cock slammed against your cervix.

You winced. Gasped. Your whole body clenched.

It wasn’t screaming pain. It was dull. Thudding. Too much.

A whimper caught in your throat.

He didn’t stop.

"Right there,” he muttered, voice dark and low. “You feel that?”

You did. God, you felt it.

That collision of aching pleasure and pressure so deep it made your stomach twist. Your pussy fluttered around him like it couldn’t decide whether to push him out or pull him deeper.

"Hurts, doesn’t it?” he rasped, thrusting again. “But you’re so wet for me.”

You wanted to deny it.

Wanted to say it was too much, that he had to stop—

But your hips were rolling back to meet him.

Desperate. Unthinking.

The stretch burned. The sting at your core made your thighs tremble.

And then he angled his hips—just barely—and when he thrust again—

He hit both.

The soft, swollen place inside you that made you cry out and the deep throb of impact that left your eyes wet and your mouth open in disbelief.

You clawed at the railing. Fingertips white, teeth biting down on a sob.

Damon reached around your front, one hand pressing between your thighs.

“Bet you’ll come again,” he said. “Even while it hurts.”

You opened your mouth. Maybe to tell him no. Maybe to beg. You never found out.

Because that’s when you felt it.

The brush of his lips at your throat—hot, open-mouthed, wet. He didn’t kiss. He tasted. Tongue dragging across the line of your pulse like he was reading it.

And then he sank his fangs in.

You screamed—not from fear. Not just from pain.

The burn of his bite lit up every nerve already strung too tight. It was sharp, electric, like being pierced by fire and fucked at the same time. Your body arched hard, hips jerking back into him, cunt clenching so tight around his cock it forced a groan out of his chest.

“Fuck,” he hissed against your skin, mouth full of your blood.

He didn’t stop moving.

He thrust again—deep and slow, dragging himself through your slick heat like he had all the time in the world. The stretch was still there. The ache. The throb in your core from where he kept bruising you. But now it was layered under something else—

The dizzying, floating feeling of being drained.

Of giving yourself away.

You could feel the wet warmth of your blood trickling down your collarbone, could feel him drinking like it was the only thing that could keep him alive.

And still—he fucked you through it.

Each thrust slow. Heavy. Languid.

Devotional.

Your body didn’t know where to look—your neck, your core, your aching thighs. Every place he touched you was too much.

You couldn’t move. You could only feel.

Held open. Held still. Held by him.

And in that silence—the one only you could hear, deep in the marrow of your bones—he was everywhere.

His breath, thick and ragged, ghosted against your skin in bursts. Hot at the base of your throat. Colder at your back when he pulled away to thrust again.

It came in patterns—punctuated with a growl, a curse, a whisper of your name that sounded like a need and a threat at once.

You could hear the wet sound of him inside you—obscene, rhythmic, slick. Every slow push made a lewd squelch that echoed between your thighs, humiliating in its honesty. Your body told no lies. It opened for him. Welcomed him. Pulled him deeper even as your mind reeled.

And his mouth—God, his mouth—still latched at your throat. The suction wasn’t gentle. It tugged. A steady pulse of pressure and release.

You felt each pull like it echoed in your pussy, like the same rhythm was dragging from both ends of you—blood and wetness, stolen in tandem.

Your heartbeat stuttered beneath his mouth.

And it felt like your soul went with it.

Every time his cock dragged back, you swore you could feel the shape of him. The way he thickened near the base. The way he pressed up against the sore spot inside you—not quite the sweet place. Just to the side. Just where it made you bite your lip to stay quiet.

He groaned again, voice low, wrecked.

“You feel so fucking good.”

He sounded angry.

Wrecked.

Grateful.

Hungry.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

All you could do was brace yourself and take another thrust. And another.

Your body numb and burning.

Your ears full of him.

Breath. Voice. Heartbeat.

Like he was the only sound left in the world.

When his mouth finally lifted from your neck, it felt like drowning.

The air hit the wet, torn skin in a wave of sharp cold. You gasped—reflexive. Your body’s desperate lurch to recover what it had lost. But it was too late. He’d already taken it. Your blood. Your breath. Your rhythm.

You didn’t know if he wiped his mouth, or if he just let it drip. You didn’t dare look.

His cock was still inside you. Still pulsing. Still stretching you open like you were made for him and nothing else.

And he'd stilled.

You felt it all in those seconds of stillness:

The slick mess between your thighs.

The dull ache where your cervix had been bruised.

The raw heat in your cunt, swollen and fluttering, still clenching down around him like it didn’t know how to let go.

Your legs were shaking.

Your arms, numb.

The railing beneath your ribs was a distant, cruel pressure—but it was the only thing keeping you from sliding to the floor.

He leaned over you again, chest pressed to your back, his hand splayed across your stomach now. Holding you in place. Fingers too warm. Too there.

You could feel his heartbeat. Not through his chest—but in his cock.

Throbbing inside you.

And you felt everything.

The faint drag of his skin against yours. The sticky wetness of your own arousal slicking down your thighs. The soreness at your throat from where his fangs had pierced you. The way your pulse skipped in your ears. Too slow. Too fast.

Every nerve was awake.

Every breath was pain and pleasure laced so tightly together they became indistinguishable.

Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, slow and silent.

You didn’t know why.

You weren’t sad. You weren’t even afraid.

You were just full.

Full of him. Full of sensation. Of ache and heat and pressure and the awful, desperate need for something you couldn’t name.

You wanted to move—but he wouldn’t let you.

He shifted his hips, just once.

Just an inch.

And your whole body seized.

His breath caught.

Just for a second.

His hand tightened on your stomach, the fingers at your waist going still—almost like he was trying to stop himself from going any further.

“I should let you go,” he said, voice wrecked. “I really fucking should.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t thrust.

Just stayed inside you, full and pulsing, as if he were waiting for your body to forget how to breathe. As if he could soak in every last second of this—of you—before whatever part of him still resembled a man gave up pretending.

Your blood still warmed his lips.

Your walls still clenched around him.

And he still hadn’t pulled out.

You didn’t speak.

Didn’t look at him. Didn’t breathe his name.

You just leaned back.

Barely.

But enough.

Your spine curved into his chest, your head tilted ever so slightly. A silent offering. An answer. Not of love. Not even of want.

Just—stay.

And it broke him.

His breath stuttered behind you, and then he moved.

A thrust.

Hard. Deep. Sudden.

All restraint gone.

He fucked into you like something snapped.

The slow drag of earlier was gone—now it was raw need, hips slamming into yours with rhythmless desperation. The sound of skin on skin filled the hallway, brutal and endless, a staccato rhythm that said don’t stop, don’t think, just feel.

And you did.

You felt all of it.

The way his hands trembled on your hips now, gripping tighter than before—not to dominate, but to stay grounded.

The way he pressed his face into the side of your neck, not biting, not kissing, just hiding.

His cock drove into you like he was searching for something—buried in the softest parts of you, hitting that bruised place inside over and over until it made your toes curl, until it made your chest ache.

He was losing himself.

And with every thrust, you felt more than just your own body.

You felt his.

His rage. His hunger.

His grief.

The ache that came with loving someone who never stayed.

The sound he made when you clenched around him—high, strangled, almost a whimper—wasn't about you.

It was about someone else.

You didn’t know how you knew.

You just felt it.

In the way his fingers curled too tightly into your hips, not bruising now—clinging.

In the way his thrusts lost rhythm, stuttered, picked back up again, like he couldn’t decide whether to punish you or hold on for dear life.

Each movement was deeper than the last.

Like he wanted to disappear inside you.

Like he thought he could drown what hurt if he just fucked hard enough.

And you—

You felt everything.

The stretch. The sting. The raw, pulsing friction that left your thighs trembling and your cunt too sore to accommodate much more—but still, your body kept taking it.

Welcoming him.

Breaking for him.

Begging in ways you didn’t understand.

His chest was pressed to your back now, heat pouring off him like fever. His breath hit the crown of your head in ragged bursts, humid and choked. You could hear his teeth clench. Feel his pulse pounding in his cock, in his throat, in your throat where the bite still bled slowly.

He was losing himself inside you.

And in doing so, he was showing himself.

Not in words. Not in confessions.

But in how his hips began to falter. How the way he rutted into you turned desperate. Frantic.

You could feel the grief.

The rage.

The ache of wanting someone who didn’t stay.

The guilt of taking someone who did.

You felt it in every thrust.

Every time he bottomed out inside you with a sharp breath, burying himself until your body tightened like a vice and you couldn’t breathe around the fullness.

You were shaking again.

Or maybe he was.

Maybe both.

And still—no release.

Just that horrible, exquisite pressure building.

You didn’t even know who was holding who anymore.

Your hands were numb around the railing. Your mouth open, drooling from the corner. Your tears had dried to salt on your cheeks. And he was still inside you, still fucking you like his life had been carved out and you were the only place he could put it.

He was trembling now.

You could feel it in the way his hands gripped your waist, pulling you back harder.

The sounds he made—half groan, half whisper—were quiet but ruined.

You didn’t know how long it had been. You only knew you didn’t want it to stop.

Not yet.

He was shaking. Not from restraint. Not from effort.

From whatever had cracked open in his chest and spilled out between your legs.

You felt it in every thrust—how the roughness softened just slightly.

How his hips adjusted, angle shifting to grind against that spot inside you that had made you cry out earlier.

That sweet, swollen place that lit you up from the inside.

“That’s it,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “Right there.”

His voice didn’t sound cruel anymore. It sounded wrecked.

And his rhythm—though still brutal—became more focused.

Like his body remembered what it was like to worship.

Each stroke now hit exactly where it needed to.

The painful pressure at your cervix was still there, dull and throbbing, but it was buried under something sharper—more urgent.

Pleasure.

Clear and pure and unbearable.

You whimpered. Loudly. Brokenly.

And his grip on your waist turned tender, thumbs pressing small circles into the bruises he’d left. His chest curled closer over you, and he whispered something against your skin—not a name, not yet—but soft. Apologetic.

And he kept fucking you.

Through the burn. Through the ache. Through the sobs now rising in your throat from the sheer overwhelm of it.

You didn’t want to come.

It would feel like losing something. Like giving in to someone who didn’t even know you were the one under him.

But your body didn’t care.

Your thighs clenched. Your spine arched.

Your walls tightened around him like they’d never let him go.

And still—he fucked you through it.

Kept his pace. Kept his pressure.

Whispered things that weren’t yours to hear.

You were already gone when your orgasm hit.

It wasn’t pretty, or clean.

You sobbed through it—loud, shaking, legs giving out completely. Your body spasmed around his cock, clenching so hard you thought it might hurt him.

He groaned when you came. Long and low. Like it meant something.

And it did.

But not to you.

To her.

You didn’t even feel yourself fall.

One second, you were clenched around him, pulsing, shaking, your cry still echoing off the walls—

And the next, your legs were gone.

Soft. Useless.

You started to slide forward, knees buckling beneath the weight of what he'd wrung out of you.

He caught you before your body could hit the floor.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, held you up like you weighed nothing. He eased you down slowly, until your thighs were pressed against the polished wood of the landing, your face against his shoulder, your back to his chest.

He was still inside you.

Still hard. Still trembling.

But he wasn’t fucking you anymore.

He just held you.

One hand at your stomach, the other at your throat—light, soothing. His fingers brushed your skin like he was afraid you’d vanish. Like you weren’t real. Or like you were something already broken and he was trying not to make it worse.

Your whole body throbbed.

Raw.

Empty.

Wrecked.

You could feel the wet between your thighs, sticky and warm. Your pulse fluttered weakly beneath the bruise at your neck. Your arms hung loose over the railing, trembling too hard to lift.

But his arms never left you.

He pressed his face into the curve where your neck met your shoulder. Breathing deep. Unsteady. Almost like he was sobbing, but without sound.

His cock twitched inside you—still there, still pulsing—but he didn’t thrust. He just stayed.

“Shhh,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Just a little longer.”

The words meant nothing. Or maybe they meant everything.

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

You were too gone.

Your body only knew one thing: his weight. His warmth. His breath against your throat. The smell of blood. Bourbon. You.

And the awful, empty fullness of still having him inside you—so deep it felt like he’d taken something with him and hadn’t given it back.

You weren’t ready when he started moving again.

No warning. No sharp thrust.

Just a slow roll of his hips, dragging his cock out of your swollen, raw heat until you almost slipped off of him—

And then back in, deep.

You moaned—weak, barely audible. A broken thing from a broken throat.

Your body tried to respond, but there was nothing left. Just twitching thighs, overstimulated nerves, and a cunt that fluttered helplessly around him like it didn’t know whether to pull him in or push him away.

But he moved anyway.

Slow.

Drawn out.

Like it hurt him not to.

He fucked you like someone memorizing the shape of grief.

Each stroke was steady, intentional—hips rocking into you with a pressure that wasn't punishing anymore, but aching. His chest stayed flush against your back, his mouth buried at your shoulder. You could feel the shudder in his breath each time he bottomed out inside you. He wasn’t trying to get you off. He wasn’t even chasing his own release.

He was searching.

His hands roamed now—soft, reverent. One skimmed the curve of your hip, the other up your ribcage, ghosting over your breast without stopping. His fingers brushed sweat-slick skin like he wanted to remember it later. Like your body was a memory he was building in real time.

“So fucking soft,” he whispered. “So warm. You feel like…”

He trailed off.

Didn’t finish the thought.

He just kept moving inside you.

Long, slow strokes that filled you to the brim and left you even emptier with each retreat.

Your pussy ached. Sore. Raw.

But it was still wet. Still clenching.

Still welcoming.

And every time he pushed back in, you felt it—

The tremor in his thighs.

The way his rhythm kept almost faltering.

The sounds he tried not to make but did anyway—quiet groans, broken murmurs, words too muffled to catch.

You could feel how close he was.

And somehow, that was the worst part.

Because this—this wreckage, this tenderness, this desperate, drawn-out rhythm—

It wasn’t for you.

You were just the vessel.

And he was trying to love someone else through your skin.

Part 2

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ AS TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS P.2

[MAKNAE LINE] all (separated) x gn reader

read HYUNG LINE here

tw: tooth rotting fluff in san and mingi’s parts + nsfw(-ish?) on wooyoung (implied oral sex, reader recieving) and jongho’s (reader rides jongho’s thigh)

a/n: my god i finally got around to finish this draft!! i am actually kinda obsessed with jongho’s one so i miiiiight make a nsfw one shot based on it (keyword might)

SAN - SWEET NOTHING

san went through a tiring day, from early dance practices to fansigns and then late night recordings. normally these days wouldn’t bother him at all, but sometimes they did take a toll on him, making him feel mentally and physically exhausted. he just wanted to go back home and rest with you between his arms. 

san found you in the kitchen, softly humming a song while you prepared some midnight tea. you were wearing one of his shirts that looked a little too big on you, and your hair was messy, yet he thought you never looked more beautiful. he hugged you from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle and hiding his face between your neck and shoulder, kissing the spot. “san! you surprised me” you squealed, nearly dropping the cup. he muttered some sort of apology, that got lost between his kisses. “tea?” you asked, grabbing his favorite cup, not even waiting for his reply. you just knew it. 

san once told you about how he used to write songs back when he was a trainee, but eventually stopped doing so to focus on his dancing and singing. he remembers your surprised face, and how you took his hands in yours excitedly as you exclaimed “you should start writing again!”. with your encouragement, and a little help from hongjoong, he started composing whenever he had the time. on some occasions he shared lyrics with you, and each and every time you would look at him like he put the stars in the sky “you are so talented, sannie”, you said, followed by a kiss on his cheek. 

san found himself sitting on the sofa, with you cuddling right on his side as he mindlessly wrote about his feelings about the exhausting day he had, as per your suggestion when asked for inspiration. he had made mistakes while practicing the new choreography for the upcoming comeback, making him feel extra frustrated for the rest of the day, which affected his mood at the fansign. he didn’t want to let anyone down, so he kept thinking of ways to improve his dancing skills. it’s like he was hearing the same voice in his head from when he was a trainee, the same voice that said “you should be doing more” each time he failed. but, as if you could hear the same voice in his mind, you turned to him, setting aside the notebook and pen on his hand for a moment. “tomorrow is a new day, san. it’s going to be okay”. san nodded in response, closing his eyes as he rested his head on your chest. 

san finished the song. he wrote it as a ballad, about how exhausting it is sometimes to wake up, but how rewarding it feels when you come back home and find your person, softly humming in the kitchen while making midnight tea. about how, despite the pressures from the outside world, he could just be himself around them, admitting that he is, in fact, too soft for it all. you teared up after reading the lyrics (i would too). 

MINGI - THE LAKES

mingi is actually a private person, who often indulges in side quests from his main story as an idol. he tries to do whatever he wants while avoiding the media, not finding it necessary to share every aspect of his personal life unless he decides to. because of this, sometimes he feels like he “doesn’t fit” with the rest of the idols, i mean, if you don’t want attention why become one in the first place? 

mingi knew it was controversial, yet he hoped his fans would understand. at least, he knew you did, often supporting his decision of randomly taking off to some random place whenever he had a break. he liked bringing you with him in said trips, not only because you’re his lover and favorite person, but also because you inspire him in more ways than you can imagine. you’re his muse, the only person who can inspire him to make a thousand different songs about one single thing. he could pull out a ten minute song about the way your eyes looked under the sunlight, or how dark they seemed after a heated kiss. or about how easy it was for you to make him smile, even after having a rough day. or how tempting your lips looked after applying gloss, or after waking up in the morning after an intense night of lovemaking. 

mingi could hear the sound of your giggles as you excitedly talked to your friend on the phone, about the upcoming trip he had planned for you two now that he’s on a break after touring. “no, i don’t know where exactly he is taking me, but isn’t that exciting? i just know the weather is going to be hot during the day so i’m packing light” you said as he entered the room. you were throwing clothes all over the bed, matching them and making outfits for the week. “oh hi love!” you said when you saw him. “mingi please tell me where you’re taking my friend, i’m dying to know!” your friend exclaimed on the phone, earning a chuckle from both of you. “no way, it’s a surprise for a reason”. 

mingi took your hand, leading you towards the lake by the cabin he rented for the week. the sun was setting in, painting the whole scenery in a golden color, and the breeze was light, merely messing your hair. the wet grass under your bare feet tickled. “it’s so pretty mingi! definitely worth the suspense” you said, leaning on him as he wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer to kiss your forehead. 

you admired the view, while he admired you, his one and only muse, the one who will always inspire him. his patience was growing thin though, he just couldn’t wait to give you the small piece of jewelry that had been resting in his pocket for a month now. 

WOOYOUNG - I CAN SEE YOU

wooyoung watched you from across the hallway, as you took pictures with the members of your group by the stairs. for a moment, your eyes interlocked before you quickly averted your gaze, a soft blush quickly making its way to your cheeks. truth is, wooyoung has been obsessed with you ever since you met at a variety show. always so quick to continue his jokes, with that contagious laugh of yours and your charismatic aura. how your personality remained the same even after the cameras stopped rolling, walking up to him and indulging him in an entertaining conversation. 

wooyoung’s gaze followed your every move on the stage you were performing at, quickly becoming enamoured with the way your body moved to the beat of the song and the way your voice hit the high notes perfectly. despite the professional scene, he still felt sinful from the way he couldn’t stop himself from imagining you squirming underneath him while your melodic voice begged him for more. that was, until you caught his hungry gaze and smirked. in that moment, he knew he had to have you, professionalism be damned. 

wooyoung’s lips found yours as soon as he dragged you inside the usual empty room at the very back of the hallway. he managed to pin you against the wall while simultaneously locking the door, making sure the little affair you had been having for three months remained a secret. “i missed you wooyoung” you said in between kisses, pulling him closer to your body by the tie around his neck, as his hands traveled all the way to your ass. “me too” he muttered, before suppressing a moan when you pulled his hair lightly. 

wooyoung was having trouble keeping quiet, you just felt so perfect for him, so addictive. “w-wooyoung keep quiet, we were a- fuck- almost discovered by my manager last time” you managed to say in between moans and gasps. “and who’s fault was that, baby?” he counter-attacked, before biting your neck trying to muffle the sounds he was making. as if it was muscle memory, you threw his jacket on the floor and started working on the buttons on his shirt. “besides”, he started saying “it’s more fun this way, no?”. 

wooyoung’s lips traveled from your neck down to your collarbones and chest, as his own hands copied your actions from moments ago, undoing the complex top in which you performed. his lips kept going down, lower and lower, tickling your stomach and sides as your lower part burnt for him to touch you more. how ironic, as you had shushed him moments ago, now it was your turn to struggle with keeping quiet. wooyoung’s experienced hands started pulling down your pants along with your underwear, licking his lips as he admired the view. “i think this is fun” he muttered, before pressing a short but wet kiss where you needed him the most, “hiding away, the secrecy of it all-” another kiss. “the discreet glances-” lick. “it makes me want you even more”, he finished, before diving deeper.

JONGHO - SO IT GOES

jongho’s eyes landed on you the moment you entered the bar where your mutual friends decided to gather to celebrate the “moving voices” project. after working hard on each song you all performed around different cities, it was finally time to relax for a little bit.

jongho’s relationship with you was rather… complicated. he understood that both of you had responsibilities in your own respective groups, so most of the time everything was handled proffessionally. but sometimes, late at night as you both met up in the studio to rehearse a song you’ll be performing together, every line and boundary became a blur. neither of you knew who leaned in first, nor how you both ended up on the studio’s worn out couch moaning each other’s name as if it was part of the song and nothing else mattered.

jongho’s thoughts had been scrambled ever since, always hoping to whisk you away and make you his again and again. at such longing, he found his heart skipping when you’re gone. but it also skipped in your presence, specially when you sat so close to him he could smell your perfume.

jongho mentally counted every minute of the hour and a half that you spent at the bar, along with the number of times another guy made you laugh or blush. he found himself gritting his teeth and surpressing an immediately eye roll, covering it up with a sip from his drink and acting chill about it. hell, even hongjoong managed to get under his skin at some point, after making you blush by complimenting your voice throughout the project. after an hour and a half, he felt like he had enough. he placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing slightly in order to get your attention, and interlocked eyes. you seemed to understand what he wanted, because you fakingly started yawning and pretending you were tired from the day.

jongho offered to take you home, making all eyes fall on him. then you. and finally, his hand on your thigh. he noticed his captain surpress a chuckle, seeing right through the whole act. whether the others saw it too or not, he did not care, as you both said your goodbyes and left the bar.

jongho pressed you against the wall, his leg placed right between your legs as his thigh flexed against where you needed him the most. his lips never left yours since the second you entered your home, but as soon as a delicious moan left your lips, he lifted up his gaze and noticed the smudged lipstick you were wearing. he was sure it covered his face too, and couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

jongho’s hands were placed on both sides of your hips, rocking you back and forth against his thigh, while managing to balance you against the wall. your moans only got louder as you felt a burning sensation on your lower stomach, and he genuinely thought that he could live like this forever. despite having been intimate not for too long, he quickly found out about the things you liked and didn’t, and he was surprised that you had the same understandment of him. it was like you both fit each other, like pieces falling right into place whenever you were together.

jongho wasn’t sure what this meant, nor where your relationship was headed, but he was ready to give himself entirely to you, he was ready to be yours to keep or lose.

[bundoesnotcompete]

This feels rushed to me but its been rotting away in my drafts and i at least wanted to finish it.

Reader is an adeptus and god. Goes from Ancient Liyue to Current day.

Spelling and wording errors to be expected i wrote this on mobile

Summary: Snippets of history between you and your husband. From enemies to lovers.

"General Mushen! The tales of the ruling god of Kunlun and Morax are numerous. From sworn enemies to close allies, there are many tales I could choose to tell." The storyteller began as he caught the attention of the crowd of him. The teahouse was packed full of both locals and tourists, all wanting to hear tales of the Immovable General Mushen.

The city was beginning festivites to celebrate the union of Kunlun Mountains of the Liyue region. It was one of the largest festivals in all of Liyue. The storyteller began to speak and the crowd was drawn in closer. A brown haired man with Amber eyes watched and listened intently, ignoring his companions grumbling.

"The story I will tell is of the beginnings of the union of Ancient Liyue and Kunlun."

---------

As the guardian diety of the Kunlan mountains, you were highly territorial. No one stepped onto your land that wasn't allowed. The mountain's forestry would be hostile and moving through the mountains would be made near impossible. Humans and adepti alike were careful not to anger or disturb you. Angering a dragon adeptus often ended poorly, especially one of your power. In return, you protected those lesser than you. They were apart of your territory, afterall.

When what would become known as the Archon Wars began, many gods thought that they could take your mountains. You proved then wrong by killing all who intended to take what was yours.

The massacre of a village outside had also enraged both you and the rest of your people. While it had been outside off your territory, many adeptus and humans alike had family there. In a few short days, the army of Kunlun was ruthlessly being trained.

Though skirmashes were becoming rarer these days, you told your armies to remain alert. The cold war you were having with your southerly neighbor, Rex Lapis, was quickly turning hot. Other gods were also fanning the flames for a war between you two.

"My Lord." A bird like adeptus kneeled at your feet, her head hung low. Blood coated her armor and she looked hurried. Considering she came through your window, you were inclined to believe something major was happening. "Rex Lapis's forces are being held at the base of Ying Mountain. They believe us to have attacked them and now they are mounting for a fully fledged war." She flinched as the tea cup you held in you clawed hand shattered.

"General Guan Yu is holding the lines."

"Tell Fuxi to prepare his forces." You commanded harshly, your temper flaring at the audacity of Rex Lapis. "Inform all generals to defend their territories. They will deal with it from there. Go. Now." The growl of your dismissal had the adeptus shifting and fleeing to do as ordered.

For the next forty years, the conflict that followed was intense and bloody. Your forces were quick to push the enemy back, but stalemate had occured. Along with that, no matter how many times you bloodied and nearly killed each other, neither you or Rex Lapis was willing to give up. The war was taking a war on both forces and other gods were beginning to prey upon that fact.

It was what lead you here, making a contract with your sworn enemy. Neither of you were pleased with each other's presence, and it was causing tensions. Both sides held deep disliking for each other.

The adeptus in front of you scowled. His companion next to him was smiling. Amber eyes drilled into you and you glared back. Your tail was thumping angrily on the ground behind you. The air between you two was thick enough to cut.

Both sides forces stood behind their leaders. Adeptus and humans mixed together in the crowds.

"Do not think of this as a permenant agreement Rex Lapis." You grounded out. "We both are wasting resources that could be used to quash other gods. Once it is just us two we will go back to trying to kill eachother. Until then this contract will keep us and our forces bound to help eachother in our times of need. Whether that be resources or war." The scrolls in front of you on the table flapped gently in the breeze. Both of you had signed the contract, and breaking it would damn either of you.

Thus, the first contracts binding Liyue and the Kunlan mountains together were made. After nearly fourty years of conflict, your war with your enemy was ended bitterly.

The contracts would be used throughly over the next few hundred years and tensions would die down as you begrudingly accepted your neighbor. Though the whole throwing rocks at you to be an annoyance was going to have to stop, else you might restart the war on your neighbor.

"Prehaps you are getting old." A swift hit to Rex Lapis's gut had him heaving as you two sparred one afternoon. The man smiled up at you from his spot on the ground. "Now dear friend, you know i don't mean that-" You kicked him across the field.

"I am not your friend you fiend." You growled as you approached him. He got up from the ground and was laughing. It was one of the few moments you got to see him truly happy. Ignoring the tightening in your chest, you approached him with the malicious intent to wipe that pretty smile of his face. He held his hands up as you tried to grab his arms.

"I surrender, this time." He spoke, smile on full display. You would be a liar if you said he wasn't handsome and fun to be around, but he was your sworn arch-enemy. You were not having a crush on him. You could not allow yourself to have such feelings no matter how much you generals told you that you could.

"Fine." You snapped out, pretending to not be a bit saddening by the surrender. It was no fun when he willingly gave up. "Now what?"

"Tea?" You grumbled at his response but agreed. The tea he often prepared was the kind you prefered, so you would allow it.

The memory would comfort you in the next years as conflict wore down on you. You ignored the sadness of not being by his side. Your temper mellowed by the end of Archon Wars. No longer did you scare and snap your companions and allies often. The draconic temper settled with your age and so did his.

"Celestia has declared me the archon of our lands." He spoke to you one day and you both layed on warm rocks in your mountain."I feel i am being unfair by claiming your land as mine to rule." A growl came from you. "They will not have it and will only see our territories as one. I am unsure of how to approach this dilemma. It is unfair to you."

You rumbled as you shifted to face him.

"What? I do not care that they see you as the ruler, you know your place and i know mine. You know this is my land." You responded to your friend. He hummed, tucking his paws under him and becoming vaguely bread shaped.

"Then how about a new contract to replace the old one. A union of our lands, but recognizing that they are independent of eachother. United but two diffrent states. We can even marry our human royalty to cement it."

You turned you head to him. "Why? Wouldn't it just be easier to marry eachother. Humans are useless and do not live long. They'd just forget it and ruin it anyway."

"Marry eachother?!" His surprised cry was ignored as you continued.

"No adeptus of mine holds high authority over the lands like i do. My generals already have lovers and my messanger will not marry anyone. Humans are too weak to hold the burden of such a contract. As far as I am aware no other holds a high power like you so that rules everyone out on your side too."

You stared at your companion's shocked face. A contract such as this was a heavy burden you did not want to place upon any in your land. You knew that you would honor the contract and trusted that he would too. Plus, with how much time you two spent together you were practically married anyway.

You watched the dragon in front of you compose himself.

"I do see your point. Knowing that the contract would be honored for as long as we live is a good idea." Morax began, shifting slightly on the rock. "Having such a comfort would be nice. But, this sort of thing is not something to be taken lightly. We would need to discuss it further."

Over the next weeks you two would discuss the contract and all that would be in it. Eternal companionship was something that was not taken lightly. Along with that came the binding vow were it would only break upon one's death.

Morax did not mind the marriage proposal and seemed rather taken to the idea. You two spent plently of time together and while not having a courting period would be strange, it wasn't unheard of. He liked you greatly anyway so why not make a realtionship offical.

So, in the beginning of fall, the Mountainous region of Kunlun and Liyue were offically bound together by marriage of its two gods. The celebration would then be celebrated around that time from then on. Even as humans turned the history into myths, you and Morax did not forget your vows.

Over time you and Morax grew to be truly in love with one another. While the jump to marriage was off putting at first, the friendship had turned to a deep affection and love that seemed to age like fine wine.

Even as wars and storms raged on, you never broke your vow and stayed by your husband's side. Even your spats and fights did not linger for long. Disagreements came and went. Though you did not like that you husband was practically a slave to Celestia's will, they did not call him often so you said nothing.

"Retirement?" You repeated one day during a sun bathing session on a rock. The brown and amber dragon in front of you nodded.

"My people seem to be able to handle themselves against threats. Of course my adepti will be there to help them, but they are largely self sustaining now. I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to retire and spend more time with you." He stated, stretching out on the large rock beneath him.

"It is a plan not fully though out so it will be some time before i will. We could live among the humans if you want. I know you enjoy spending time eating human food and enjoying human activites. Prehaps even you can retire."

So, once he got a plan into place you agreed on his retirement. Soon he was able to get a job with humans and establish a life among them. You followed him and while you did not appear fully human like he did, you did walk among the people.

The people of Liyue knew you two as a human-adepti couple and some folk often joked that you aruged like an old married couple. Even Hu Tao took notice and joked about it. Though, you suspected she knew her consultant's true identity but she said nothing so you left it at that.

After the ordeal with Osial and Morax's retirement, you and your lover sat upon the cliff which your first battle with him took place.

"So, now what will you do with your free time? You know we cannot be together as often as we used to be." You spoke laying your head on his shoulder.

"Well, I will spend as much time as I can with you and continue to watch my people from the sidelines." He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he spoke.

"The Celebration of Union will be happening soon. I say we spend time there first. I will live in the moment now that i am not worried about my people."

You hummed and smiled in repsonse to him.

"You sound like an old man, but that is an agreeable idea." You laughed. Yes, this retirement was going to be wonderful. You could already see it.

-----

"Though Morax has passed, the Kunlun mountains and their god still honor the contract." You watched as the storyteller rambled on. The story he was telling was not entirely accurate.

You turned you head to you lover and he smiled at you.

"Do not blame them. They did not live the events. It is difficult to keep the truth when they only hear stories passed on from parents." He spoke softly to you before standing up. "It appears the story is ending, let's go try that food stand you wanted." You perked up and stood up with him.

As you both walked to the food stand, you could only feel happiness. Time spent together brought you joy.

Prehaps you should retire to be with your husband?

[hyunjinsbelovedamericano]

Skz when their partner can't sleep

i couldn't sleep when i thought of this so

i can't sleep~

teeth rotting fluff,not proof read yet

Bangchan

He probably wouldn't be able to sleep either,and most of stays sleep schedules are wrecked so he would do a live with you.He would go on Channie's room and do whatever.Comments like"Why aren't you guys asleep?","Go back to bed" would fly through."I don't know what you guys are talking about,its 1 in the afternoon.You know time zones?"but stay know thats its 2 am where you are so your attempt on manipulating them failed

Minho

You guys would rate children's drawings,yk those tiktoks where the teacher rates their students drawings.Thats you guys but you're not teachers."Who is that supposed to be?" "Barney","Then why does it look like grimace if took he meth".You guys would probably receive noise complaints for how loud you'll be laughing,but they would laugh just as loud if they saw these drawings

Changbin

Watch rip-off movies,have you guys seen that video where benoftheweek was watching rip-off movies.Yes.Instead Ratatouille your watching ratatoing,instead of the bee movie you're watching plan b."This animation is giving me nightmares","This is torture".Changbin couldn't stop laughing at the names of the movies,"Who wrote this"he would be in tears

Hyunjin

This one is more wholesome than the previous,i feel like he would read poems to you,even better read HIS poems to you,they would be the cutest things ever😭😭,i think he would also make you some tea,massage your head whilst reading the poems.(I need a fanfic on this NOW),he would have such a soothing voice reading them and then scream in your ear(jk...maybe),he wants you to get your 8 hours even though that might mean that he can't

Han

He would eat midnight snacks with you,even though it's not midnight he'll still have snacks.You would try new foods,"This taste likes bbamba's foot","How do you know how his foot taste like?","..." ,you would go late night shopping at those 24/7 stores,han would be scared if its 3am,"why are you so scared","have you not seen those do not watch at 3am videos?"You would just laugh at him,he's such a child

Felix

As we know Felix,is a tiktok king.He would post tiktoks with you,you would explore so many trends and do almost all of them.You would also have a debate why the tiktoks should go on his account or your account,"I deserve this tiktok","No i do".You would do funny tiktoks,dance tiktoks etc.a lot of them would go in the drafts and you would also have a debate on which you should post,"I look like a rat in this tiktok.","Exactly"

Seungmin

This is also one of the wholesome ones,I feel like he would sing you to sleep.His soft gentle voice singing you melodies AHDSUDGDEIURRH that's too cute 😭,he would try to calm you down make you tired because who doesn't want to sleep.Especially with his vocals the song could be rock and he would somehow make it sound soft,he would sing your favourite songs and if you don't say a skz song he would add one in there

Jeongin

He would do skincare with you,you have a bunch of products so it would be quite time consuming."What does this do?","Something".You would take pictures with face masks on because it's a vibe.You would also go online shopping for more products,"Buy the rose jelly one ","No" he would add it to your cart when your not looking,when it arrives and you ask him about he would pretend not to know anything about it

[fayeraa]

=• “𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓! “ series

ada as your gf ᡣ𐭩 | gn! reader | swf

ᡣ𐭩• black cat energy :3

ᡣ𐭩• she’s a caring gf, she always make sure you’re in your best shape

ᡣ𐭩• her dates can vary from chic and upscale dining to just chilling on the sofa at night with a glass of wine, silently consuming each others company

ᡣ𐭩• pretty sure her and you would own cats

ᡣ𐭩• when she has free time, vacation can be on a daily basis. you and her own a « trip book » where you list every trip you did and the upcoming ones

ᡣ𐭩• busy woman => gifts. if something entice your eyes, she won’t hesitate and will buy it for you

ᡣ𐭩• really into tiny, rather inconspicuous necklaces with a pretty gem on it like diamond or something refined

ᡣ𐭩• matching rings, pairing with the necklace :33

ᡣ𐭩• she’s not big on physical affection/pda but hold and caress your hand most of time. both inside and out

ᡣ𐭩• if she sees you worn-out from work or whatever, she tells you to rest, can offer you a massage, and a cup of tea while snuggling together

ᡣ𐭩•calls you darling or treasure but does not overdo it

Ada may be comes out cold or even conceited, but you’re precious to her.

a lil something since it was rotting in my drafts 💀💀

remember : suggestions and headcanons are open!

reposts are highly appreciated ! <3

©𝐅𝟒𝐘𝐄-𝟒𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒: reposts and feedback is highly appreciated but do not copy, plagiarize, translate, modify, any of my works, this also applies to my edits/collages.

[linny-bloggs]

DRINKS THE JJK MEN REMIND ME OF (BECAUSE WHY NOT)

a/n: These are things that I may or may not be able to explain, and it’s not necessarily something I think they would drink as a go to, it’s just something that reminds me of them. Okay enjoy!! (Edit: I made this at four in the morning and just woke up to this in my drafts…. I apologize)

Satoru: Gatorade cool blue flavor. It’s like an athlete type of thing, and a lot of strong powerful catchphrases/propaganda. And it’s outrageously sweet, so I feel like it fits him pretty well.

Suguru:

canon- Pepsi. I dislike Pepsi but I’ll drink it if it’s there. The general look of Pepsi is appealing, and I would drink it if it were my only option, but I would never really crave it if any of that makes sense.

fandom- Dr. Pepper. Again the look is appealing, but I would actually enjoy drinking it, and would sometimes even seek it out.

Nanami: Whiskey. This one is a little bit basic, but in my mind the overall aesthetic screams Nanami, and its smooth, sad, yet overall loved kind of vibe is very similar to my headspace toward the Nanami character. And the whole a nice sophisticated and slightly unhinged type of comfort kind of thing.

Toji: Rum. Associated with childhood, and definitely not in a good way

Choso: Homemade Arnold Palmer (Aka half tea, half lemonade) kind of associated with Yuji’s and the youthful innocence type of thing, but also with an older, more mature side, well balanced, but always a little off center (somehow always in a good way unless it’s for the angst)

Toge: Sparkling apple juice. I cannot get brain rot toge out of my head, and I associate all brain rot toge’s with childish things that are also a bit reckless, but not so much that it’s disliked.

Yuuta: Matcha latte. I don’t really know about this one, but the green and the whipped, but kind of funky at the same time made it make sense in my head.

Megumi: Monster Ultraviolet. One of my favorite drinks, but not a consistent favorite, when I want it, the want comes in waves, I either want it now and I want a lot, or I could drink one and enjoy it, but I won’t seek it out at that particular time.

Yuji: STRAWBERRY LEMONADE!! There is something about it that reminds me of youth, but not like a child. And it’s pink, need I say more?

Sukuna: Fernet. A little off putting, but still looks appealing. When consumed it tastes extremely bitter. (But you can still absolutely love it once accustomed)

Ino: RootBeer. I don’t really know how to explain it. But I like root beer🤷

Shiu: Bourbon. I don’t really know how to explain it.c but it feels right.

Hiromi: Gin and Tonic. Balanced, somewhat bitter, but also refreshing, and very pleasant if it’s to your taste.

[marilynthornhilllover]

Hi!I have a request on Nice! Marilyn Thornhill x reader. Like when Marilyn found reader in her room crying reader tells Marilyn what's wrong reader gets emotional and reader accidentally calls Marilyn Mommy?

90° and rising

M. thornhill x Fem!reader

Warning: fluff, slight tension, reader has the flu, mommy kink, praise kink, pet names, reader is legal age.

A/n: I think this may be the one of shortest fanfic I have ever written, I apologize :( but I hope you enjoy!

It was the forth week of your second year semester and you were already sick…. But not the ‘ sore throat, snuffy nose’ sick, this one was far worst. You had a fever that came with chill, a runny nose, a terribly loud dry cough that was packaged with chest pain, muscle pain that prevented you from even moving from your dorm bed and worse of all you were vomiting. This flue has been going around campus for a week now and almost half your entire class caught it and now you were definitely served it the worse.

Your friend had ordered take out for your dinner last night but you couldn’t eat from all the nausea, you didn’t even shower after your afternoon classes because you had pounding headache that no paracetamol could have fixed and you felt absolutely dizzy. You emailed your dean of year and informed him that you won’t be able to make it to class today because you caught the flu and that it would be best if you stayed in for a few days to avoid spreading this deadly sickness even more. Thankfully Your sick leave application was approved by your DOY and the principal.

You didn’t think you needed to email your professors an explanation because even they had this sickness….. well it started with them, then students gradually started to fall ill. You weren’t even surprised that you caught it because you were already sick during Christmas break and that cold you didn’t quite get over.

You had gotten up at your first alarm call and decided it would be best if you completed all your task early so you could lay off for the entire day and take all the rest needed. So you showered, submitted your assignments, edited group projects, made breakfast and fed your roommates cat. You took all your medication out into the living room area in a ziplock bag along with your laptop, blanket and snacks. Today you were gonna couch rot.

You drafted up a couple essays but before you knew it you were already fast asleep again by 11:00 o’clock. A stern cough awoken you, and as you gained consciousness you could hear loud and steady knocking on the front door. Taking a sip of your mint tea you gently lifted your weak body and limped towards the door. Not even thinking to look through the peep hole you swung the door open with an attitude.

“ what!?” You answered your voice lace with authenticity and clear annoyance, with only one eye open but blurred you could have hardly see who was standing in front of you.

“ well good morning miss y/l/n, a pleasure to see you too” you heard a far too familiar voice say. It was no other than your botany teacher Ms. Thornhill. A proud 5’4 teacher with a passion for her job, she has a radiant smile and a contagious laugh, she’s always well dressed and her hair neatly curled. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a thing for Ms thornhill. And over the pass few months the both of you have been rather flirtatious after class so maybe she has a thing for you too….. who knows.

“ I have a two free periods one after the other, that’s like half of my afternoon so I thought I’d come over and check on you, Mr Wilburn told me that you’re taking a sick leave?” She took a step closer to you, slowly creeping her way up onto the door step as she studied your facial features, something that always made you fold but today it made you feel intimidated, and plus you didn’t want to be spreading this virus of a flu.

Taking a step back you sighed as you closed your eyes for a moment, gently caressing your temples as you feel a slight pinch to your headache coming back. When you don’t respond Marilyn takes a step closer to you, now standing in between the door frame. You feel when the palm of her hand gently touches your forehead before it moves to your neck. She pulls back suddenly and that’s when your eyes open.

“ Jesus your burning up my love, come here” as if she knows where she navigating you to, she swiftly grabs hold of your wrist and tugs you inside, shoving the door closed with her boot. She directs you to your previous place of rest as she takes a look around the dorm. You could see the inward cringe on her face from the mess but she remained silent.

Your fever was really high last night so you had a couple friends over trying to help break it and let’s just say the outcome of that was chaos, your roommate Emily volunteered to tidy up but you told her once you felt a bit better you’d assist in the process because letting her do it alone would be unfair. Of course she didn’t mind but you insisted on it so she rested her case and left for class.

“ have you taken any medication yet?” Your eyes widened at Marilyn’s question but you had totally forgotten to take your morning dose of cetamol after you had breakfast at seven this morning. You bit your bottom lip and shook your head as you watched her shoulders drop.

“ sweetie you’re not gonna magically get better if you don’t take your medicine and I don’t want you here alone in this mess” the dorm wasn’t completely a mess. Just a few dirty laundry laying around, ok maybe the kitchen was a mess but everything else was in tact…. Well kinda. But it’s not as if it was that bad.

Marilyn gently pushed you back against the pillows and covered you with the thick blankets that were draped over the couch. She took a small shower towel from the shelve in the bathroom and placed it in the freezer compartment. She then made her way into the kitchen and from there you had no idea what happened after because you blacked out.

Marilyn hadn’t even noticed that you had fallen asleep, she prepared a nice and hot delicious chicken noodle soup for you to eat and so that you can take your medication. She allowed it to cool for a while as she looked around the dorm, it was much more clean.

Marilyn’s gaze then fell on your sleeping form as she watched your chest fall and rise slowly, you mouth slightly agap and your hair fizzed out on the pillow. You looked so tired and exhausted. Her poor baby. Marilyn had feelings for you, feelings that she slowly started to develop after spending quality time with you after classes. She’s never really hanged out with her students or saw herself as the one to favor them in any way but for her it was different with you.

You were special to her and she really, really found herself wanting to be with you all the time and making sure that you were ok. And if you needed anything that she was there in a heartbeat . That’s why she’s here standing in your dormitory kitchen making food for you. She had gotten an email from Mr. Wilburn indicating that you would be absent from all classes for an unknown period of time because of a flu. She couldn’t allow you to deal with that on your own, so she packed up and signed out early just to be here now. That’s how much she cared. That’s how much she loved you.

After a couple minutes had passed she picked up the bowl of soup, carefully carried it towards the coffee table and placed it down gently, she then tiptoed back into the kitchen to grab the cold towel for your fever. She leaned over the couch and gently placed it onto your forehead. You stired a little before going back to not moving entirely. She smiled softly at you before walking around the couch. She carefully lifted you up against her chest when she sat down behind you before proceeding to gently run her hands through your hair, slightly massaging your scalp.

“ mommy” a small but soft breathy moan escaped your throat as you turned in Marilyn’s embrace, wrapping your arms around her waist she froze completely. You were still in deep slumber obviously and weren’t conscious enough to know what you were saying, or so she thought because then you said it again as you clung unto her tighter. Marilyn chuckled softly before wrapping her arms around you as well. Her hands found their way under your shirt as she gently ghostly drew tiny shapes along your skin.

This went on for a while until you found yourself slowly opening your eyes. Sniffing and rubbing the remaining sleep away from your eye you looked up at her with pink cheeks as you tried to hide your face in her chest.

“ looks like someone had a good nap” she whispered, she pressed her lips against you’re cheeks before they made their way down your neck where she continued to nip away. You squirmed in her embrace before you decided to sit up.

“ you cooked for me? You didn’t have to do that Ms. Thornhill” you said, your voice weak and raspy. Marilyn smiled as she tucked a strange of air behind your ear before kissing your forehead.

“ I’ll do anything for my baby girl, don’t you know that?” You folded as soon as the pet name left her lips, you bit your lip and tried not to make it obvious but she already caught on by the color of you cheeks and your lack of eye contact. She found it cute. But when you didn’t respond she took your chin into her hands and forced you to look at her. Her eyes spoke volumes, a dangerous world where you’d get captivated in if you’re not careful. It was a dangerous game the both of you would play after class that would end in scandalous activities that had you flustered.

“ don’t you know that?” She repeated again this time lowering her tone of voice and titling her head. You swallowed thickly as you nodded. You felt hot but this time it wasn’t from the fever. The tension in the air was palpable and electric and something in you wanted to reach for it and see what happens. See what rabbit hole you get to go down this time.

“ use your words baby” her tone was soft but stern and her eyes were glimmering with something you couldn’t quite place, but you’ve seen it before. That twinkle in her eyes just before she does the most nasty things know possible to you.

“ no mommy” you replied shyly.

“ well now you do” she leaned it and captured your lips with hers and for a moment the world around you paused and you even forgot you had the flu, she pulled back and wiped off the trail of salvia that followed to her end before grabbing the bowl of soup from off the table.

“ eat up, you still have your medicine to take after this and you need lots of rest” after you ate she gave you the medicine and some water, later when Emily came back from her classes Marilyn made you both white tea and stayed for a movie. When Emily started dozing off she showered, said her good nights before she went to bed, Marilyn kissed you goodnight before she left and told you that she’d come over again for the weekend. You were already feeling better after the soup she made so maybe your sick leave wouldn’t be that long after all.

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Slight Angst | Gojo x GN!Reader Kikufuku

SUMMARY Going to get food everyday with Gojo bc he loves trying new places and he used to do it sm with Geto and Shoko ):

CONTENT Mostly fluff, some angst, gender neutral reader, implied crush, lots of mentions of food, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM ROTTING DURING EXAMSSSSSS TAKE THIS DRAFT I FINISHED WHILE I WORK ON MY REQUESTS HEHEHEHEHEHE I WILL BE POSTING ALL MY STUFF SLOWLY MEHEEHEHHE Note that I can’t remember where I got this idea from (it's been sitting in a document for months and I only just got around to it) but I might've read it from somewhere (maybe a tiktok?) please lmk so I can give credit if this is the case!

WORD COUNT: 477

Satoru is your typical happy go lucky guy on the outside. He’s always walking around as if there’s not a single thought running through his mind. He’ll buy his favorite mochi while all the passersby swoon at his handsome self. You met the man not more than a few months ago when you joined Jujutsu High as a fellow staff member and you’ve gotten quite close. He’d always ask you if you wanted to get food after work and most of the time you'd say yes. But, for the first few weeks, sometimes you’d be busy or not feeling up to going out to dinner with your co-worker you just met. That quickly changed though.

Satoru gets quite lonely when you aren’t there with him and you've noticed after getting to know him. He's not anything he shows on the outside. He’s alone. He’s suffering. But he’s still so sweet. A month or 2 after meeting him, you’ve made it a mission to always get food with him even if you’re busy. If it’s not in person, you’re at the very least video or audio calling him so he can show you the food and talk to you while you both eat. Gojo loves trying new places because it feels refreshing. It makes him feel young again and you support it because you know his youth was robbed from him. You know that he used to get food everyday with Suguru and Shoko because he told you about it. You know he misses them by the way he talks about it and he knows you know. But, ignorance is bliss right? You're both just trying to live ignorantly happily while simultaneously healing from your respective pasts. What else could you really do?

Yesterday was takoyaki and Thai milk tea for dessert. Today was coconut curry and ice cream filled taiyaki. Tomorrow, Satoru is thinking Beijing style duck or maybe K-BBQ? Carbonara? Peri Peri Chicken? Enchiladas? Shawarma??? You always laugh when he goes on a tangent of what he wants to eat and try with you. You tease him by adding more options to the list and he clenches his fists dramatically and squeezes his eyes shut under his blindfold while whining that he can’t pick and that there’s too much good food. You occasionally have to reassure him that you have time and that you’re not going anywhere. You never fail to notice the blush on his ears when you soothe him like that and he never fails to see your fidgety hands as you say the gentle words to him. He feels so lucky to have your company and you can confidently say the same, in your thoughts of course. You wouldn’t tell him that out loud and he also finds himself too scared to try. At least, not yet. Maybe one day, over some kikufuku.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[gojozballs]

Masterlist

Hey, I'm just here to write and share stuff that’s been rotting in my drafts for ages. Not gonna spill any tea about myself except, surprise I’m into yandere stuff (shocking, I know) Also, credit goes to the artists and Gege Akutami for the manga panels I definitely borrow. Oh, and fair warning most of this is NSFW or borderline disturbing, so... proceed at your own risk. You've been warned:p

Need a little excitement in your life? My stories have it all romance, adventure, and just enough heat to make you doublecheck who’s around before you keep reading. It’s like a rollercoaster for your emotions, thrilling, heart-pounding, and, let’s be honest, a bit of a guilty pleasure.

Jujutsu Kaisen

Nightmare with Gojo Satoru

Ethereal Ties with Gojo & Geto

[another-lost-mc]

OH MY GOD JES YOURE BACK 😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

⤷ me crawling out of an unofficial hiatus because OM's twitter posted that damn teaser pic of Karasu holding a ring

I do feel bad for not being online much lately. To the anons that have left messages like these for me, I appreciate you and I'm sorry I wasn't in the headspace to reply as quickly as I would've liked. 😭

Nightbringer's story ending felt like a good time to take a break from things for a while. I haven't been consistently active on Tumblr lately for a lot of reasons, but the OM franchise shifting into neutral was part of it. I've been keeping busy with other things:

Work. Work is good but it is also evil. Last year I accepted a promotion so I went from working less and having lots of spare time to working too much and having no spare time. It's only in the past month that I've managed to correct my work/life balance to something more sustainable. (Related to this, I've been dealing with long-term flare-ups of my chronic illness and lacking spoons for socializing which meant I wasn't spending much time on my computer even if I had free time. Thankfully, this is also improving now which is great 'cause it sounds like Solmare is up to nonsense again.)

Playing other games. I'll admit that I haven't logged onto either OM app in ages. I've mostly been playing Twisted Wonderland and HSR these days. I'm so thrilled that I got Crowley's SSR and I'm excited for Crewel's upcoming release. I tried to get into LADS but it just wasn't for me, although I still play it very casually sometimes. I still play WHB casually too, because the characters are so so so hot even if the EN translation is a bit wonky.

Catching up on other hobbies. So much anime and manga lol. I rewatched Demon Slayer and I've been watching Haikyuu!! and Delicious in Dungeon. New selfships and otp ships galore. I've been deep-diving into my ao3 bookmarks and re-reading some of my favourite ship fics too. Oh, and I've been reading a lot of BL manga/manhwa and buying copies for my home library.

R&R: So many naps! So much relaxing on the couch with the kitties and a book and cup of tea. I don't normally like going on trips so staycations are my go-to. The last one was a few months ago when we went to Toronto for a concert and stayed overnight to make the most of it. We didn't go away for Victoria Day, but we're going to the cottage next weekend instead. It should be fun.

Even with all that going on, things keep circling back to Obey Me when I get the urge to write something. I've been revisiting old drafts of things I was working on before. A while ago I bought the Barbatos Makeship plushie and the Karasu/RAD pin set, a rare splurge since buying physical merch is a pain. I haven't been buying as much online these days with all the trade nonsense going on.

Oh, and let's not forget the OCs. I have some new OC art commissions to add to their official galleries too. I swear, if you ever worry about losing your love for OM, just make an OC. Come up with a design and interesting backstory and headcanons for them, and you'll be set. Mine have been rotating in my brain like rotisserie chickens this entire time so even when I'm not writing or talking about them online, part of me is still thinking about the OM world and the OCs and how they fit into it. I also have a backlog of OC-related asks I'd like to catch up on at some point; it's time to make the OC brain rot everyone's problem and not just mine. lol

Anyway, that's what I've been up to these days. 🥹