whorerificstuff

[whorerificstuff]

You never planned to catch feelings for someone you’d never met. It started casually...just text messages between two people orbiting the same digital space. At first, the conversations were light, but slowly, without you realizing it, they deepened. You talked about life, dreams, children. He mentioned wanting to get married someday, to have kids. He never said it was with you, but the words were there, soft enough to dream on.

Somehow, without ever hearing his voice or feeling his presence, you began to fall. He was kind, consistent, and comfortable to talk to. There was something magnetic about how your conversations made you feel seen...understood, even. So, when he told you he felt comfortable with you too, that he didn’t feel awkward or guarded, it meant something. A lot, actually.

But still, there were lines. He said he couldn’t like you, not because of who you are, but because of where you are. Distance. That one word became a wall between what could be and what simply wasn’t allowed to happen. He made it clear: he doesn’t do long-distance. And even though that truth hurt, you tried to accept it. You held onto whatever version of closeness he still offered, likes on your posts, familiar responses in chat, fragments of intimacy carved into the space where a deeper connection could have grown.

You told him the truth. That you liked him. Maybe even more than liked. And he responded with uncertainty-not rejection, but not acceptance either. He didn’t tell you to go, but he didn’t ask you to stay.

So you tried to give him something soft, something loving. You said it was okay. That you were happy to be in his life, even as a friend. And again, silence. Or confusion. “I don’t know how to respond to that,” he said. Not cruel. Just… distant. Always distant.

Still, you hoped for clarity. You wondered if maybe, subconsciously, he wanted you too. Maybe there was something in the way he dreamed of you, hugged you in his sleep, introduced you to people who mattered in his mind. But the dreams weren’t followed by actions. The words weren’t backed by change. And you kept waiting for something more than what he was willing to give.

You considered leaving-deleting the app, walking away silently-but part of you wanted to say goodbye first. Not just a “see you,” but a real goodbye that let him know you had loved talking to him. That you’d held feelings. That you were letting go, not out of spite, but out of self-preservation. You wrote it with care, with grace. You hinted at everything without spelling it out.

And he didn’t respond.

You stared at your screen, watching your words drift into silence. No reply. Just another like on a drawing. Maybe a heart on a photo of your dog. These tiny gestures that meant nothing compared to what you had just poured out.

That silence echoed. It made you wonder if you ever mattered, or if the whole thing was a convenient illusion for him. You began to believe that maybe all the kindness was just politeness, and all the comfort you felt was one-sided.

So now you sit in the aftermath, wondering how to stop thinking about someone who never even held your hand. You wonder how to “unlike” him in your heart. You ask yourself if you were foolish, or just hopeful. If you mistook crumbs for affection. You ask if he lied, but the truth is… he didn’t need to. He just never chose you. And not choosing you still hurts, even if it's done gently.

You’re left with your teaching units to finish, dreams of working in Japan, and a heart that’s tired of waiting for people who don’t choose it back. You don’t hate him. You just wish he would have loved you the way you were willing to love him...despite the miles, despite the odds.

[whorerificstuff]

I hate falling in love with a real person.

[whorerificstuff]

I clearly cared for him. I wanted him to care back.

But what he gave me was a wall...nicely decorated with attention, but still a wall.

[whorerificstuff]

[whorerificstuff]

I kept caring for someone who made me feel close but kept me at a distance. I'm done.

[whorerificstuff]

Then came that morning.

The sun was just rising, golden light pouring into their bedroom.

He opened his eyes.

The bed beside him...empty.

Again.

His heart seized.

“No. Not now. Please, not now-”

He leapt out of bed, stumbling into the hallway.

Silence.

No humming.

No clanging.

No baby kicks.

Nothing.

His breaths came faster. “Where are you?”

Then...something on the floor.

A trail of drops.

Blood.

Part III: “A Second Chance”

Wink Wonk

The house was still...too still. Not just quiet, but hollow, like a shell once filled with life but long since abandoned by it.

He had tried to survive.

He really did.

He endured the nights that never ended, the memories that cut deep, the sound of laughter that haunted the walls. He carried the weight of two lost lives every day, every hour, every breath. Until one night, with trembling hands and a heart too heavy to carry alone, he gave in.

He didn't leave a note. What was the point? The world had already taken everything from him.

He closed his eyes, surrounded by darkness, expecting nothing.

But then-

Warmth.

A soft breeze. The smell of sunlight filtering through curtains. The weight of a comforter.

He jolted upright, breath ragged.

Alive?

His chest was rising and falling rapidly. His hands were whole. He was in bed. Their bed. Everything felt too real. Too vivid to be a dream, yet too impossible to be true.

Then he turned his head.

The space beside him. empty.

Just like before.

His heart dropped. A cold dread shot through his body as he reached out, only to touch cold, wrinkled sheets. “No,” he gasped. “No, not again…”

He threw the covers off, stumbling out of bed.

His voice cracked. “Where are you?!”

But then-

Clanging.

Pots and pans. The soft hum of a voice. Something burning.

He froze.

The kitchen.

He moved, half-sprinting down the hall. Each step was a lifetime. Every breath was a war between hope and fear. His mind screamed this wasn’t real-but he saw her.

Standing by the stove. Hair pulled into a lazy bun. Humming tunelessly, swaying slightly as she flipped over pancakes, her swollen belly visible beneath the thin fabric of his oversized shirt.

Pregnant. Heavily.

The child, still inside her.

She turned at the sound of his frantic footsteps. “Oh! Morning, sleepyhead,” she said, smiling. That smile. The one that once healed him, shattered him, and now glued him back together.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees.

She blinked, confused. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, hurrying over as fast as her heavy steps allowed. She knelt before him with effort, placing her hands on his cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

He grasped her face like she might vanish if he let go. “You’re real,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You’re alive.”

She gave a soft laugh, brushing tears off his cheeks with her thumbs. “Of course I’m real. What kind of question is that?”

He pulled her into him, resting his forehead against her belly. The round, warm curve of it felt real. The heartbeat inside,alive. “I thought I lost you,” he choked.

“You didn’t,” she said, voice calm. “We’re right here.”

She kissed the top of his head, then gently helped him back up.

She guided him to the kitchen table. His legs were still trembling, but she made sure he sat, placing a warm cup of tea in his shaking hands.

“You had a bad dream again, huh?” she asked softly, placing a plate of burnt pancakes in front of him with an apologetic grin. “Sorry. Blame the little one for distracting me. They’ve been extra kicky today.”

His eyes never left her.

Her movements. Her voice. The small grunts of effort. The way she spoke to the child in her womb like they were already here.

His mind screamed that it wasn’t possible.

That he had died.

That this was some cruel trick of the afterlife or worse, a hallucination before fading away completely.

But the warmth of the tea. The sound of the baby kicking. The aroma of breakfast and burnt batter. Her laugh-they were all real.

Or felt that way.

He had another chance.

He didn't understand how.

He didn't care.

But something in his chest twisted, knotted with dread. He’d seen this play out before. The growing belly. The excitement. The nursery. The night she wasn’t in bed.

He knew what came next.

This wasn’t just a dream. This was a warning.

His jaw clenched.

He couldn’t let it happen again.

Not again.

From that day on, something in him changed.

He didn’t tell her what he’d seen. How could he? He didn’t want to scare her. She was glowing with joy, preparing for a future he wasn’t sure they’d reach.

But he watched. He listened. He never left her side.

He installed extra locks on the doors. He made sure her phone was always charged. He memorized every emergency number. He learned how to deliver a baby at home, just in case. He kept notes, tracked her every symptom, every movement, every meal.

She laughed at first, telling him he was overreacting. “You’re acting like I’m made of glass.”

But he would only respond with a smile and, “I just want to be ready.”

He didn’t sleep much. He sat by her bedside, watching her breathe. Every twitch, every sigh made his stomach twist.

One night, she stirred and caught him staring.

“You’re worried again, aren’t you?”

He nodded slowly.

She reached out, placing his hand on her belly. The baby kicked.

“You feel that?” she asked with a small smile. “That’s our future.”

His throat closed.

But the words that slipped from him were soft, terrified: “I’m scared I won’t be enough.”

She shook her head. “You’re everything.”

He swallowed hard, forcing down the tears.

But deep inside, paranoia dug its roots. Every day brought him closer to a moment he remembered too clearly. The birth. The hospital. The silence.

He wouldn't let it happen again.

He couldn't.

He didn’t know how he got this second chance.

But he’d protect them.

No matter the cost.

[whorerificstuff]

Part III: “A Second Chance”

Wink Wonk

The house was still...too still. Not just quiet, but hollow, like a shell once filled with life but long since abandoned by it.

He had tried to survive.

He really did.

He endured the nights that never ended, the memories that cut deep, the sound of laughter that haunted the walls. He carried the weight of two lost lives every day, every hour, every breath. Until one night, with trembling hands and a heart too heavy to carry alone, he gave in.

He didn't leave a note. What was the point? The world had already taken everything from him.

He closed his eyes, surrounded by darkness, expecting nothing.

But then-

Warmth.

A soft breeze. The smell of sunlight filtering through curtains. The weight of a comforter.

He jolted upright, breath ragged.

Alive?

His chest was rising and falling rapidly. His hands were whole. He was in bed. Their bed. Everything felt too real. Too vivid to be a dream, yet too impossible to be true.

Then he turned his head.

The space beside him. empty.

Just like before.

His heart dropped. A cold dread shot through his body as he reached out, only to touch cold, wrinkled sheets. “No,” he gasped. “No, not again…”

He threw the covers off, stumbling out of bed.

His voice cracked. “Where are you?!”

But then-

Clanging.

Pots and pans. The soft hum of a voice. Something burning.

He froze.

The kitchen.

He moved, half-sprinting down the hall. Each step was a lifetime. Every breath was a war between hope and fear. His mind screamed this wasn’t real-but he saw her.

Standing by the stove. Hair pulled into a lazy bun. Humming tunelessly, swaying slightly as she flipped over pancakes, her swollen belly visible beneath the thin fabric of his oversized shirt.

Pregnant. Heavily.

The child, still inside her.

She turned at the sound of his frantic footsteps. “Oh! Morning, sleepyhead,” she said, smiling. That smile. The one that once healed him, shattered him, and now glued him back together.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees.

She blinked, confused. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, hurrying over as fast as her heavy steps allowed. She knelt before him with effort, placing her hands on his cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

He grasped her face like she might vanish if he let go. “You’re real,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You’re alive.”

She gave a soft laugh, brushing tears off his cheeks with her thumbs. “Of course I’m real. What kind of question is that?”

He pulled her into him, resting his forehead against her belly. The round, warm curve of it felt real. The heartbeat inside,alive. “I thought I lost you,” he choked.

“You didn’t,” she said, voice calm. “We’re right here.”

She kissed the top of his head, then gently helped him back up.

She guided him to the kitchen table. His legs were still trembling, but she made sure he sat, placing a warm cup of tea in his shaking hands.

“You had a bad dream again, huh?” she asked softly, placing a plate of burnt pancakes in front of him with an apologetic grin. “Sorry. Blame the little one for distracting me. They’ve been extra kicky today.”

His eyes never left her.

Her movements. Her voice. The small grunts of effort. The way she spoke to the child in her womb like they were already here.

His mind screamed that it wasn’t possible.

That he had died.

That this was some cruel trick of the afterlife or worse, a hallucination before fading away completely.

But the warmth of the tea. The sound of the baby kicking. The aroma of breakfast and burnt batter. Her laugh-they were all real.

Or felt that way.

He had another chance.

He didn't understand how.

He didn't care.

But something in his chest twisted, knotted with dread. He’d seen this play out before. The growing belly. The excitement. The nursery. The night she wasn’t in bed.

He knew what came next.

This wasn’t just a dream. This was a warning.

His jaw clenched.

He couldn’t let it happen again.

Not again.

From that day on, something in him changed.

He didn’t tell her what he’d seen. How could he? He didn’t want to scare her. She was glowing with joy, preparing for a future he wasn’t sure they’d reach.

But he watched. He listened. He never left her side.

He installed extra locks on the doors. He made sure her phone was always charged. He memorized every emergency number. He learned how to deliver a baby at home, just in case. He kept notes, tracked her every symptom, every movement, every meal.

She laughed at first, telling him he was overreacting. “You’re acting like I’m made of glass.”

But he would only respond with a smile and, “I just want to be ready.”

He didn’t sleep much. He sat by her bedside, watching her breathe. Every twitch, every sigh made his stomach twist.

One night, she stirred and caught him staring.

“You’re worried again, aren’t you?”

He nodded slowly.

She reached out, placing his hand on her belly. The baby kicked.

“You feel that?” she asked with a small smile. “That’s our future.”

His throat closed.

But the words that slipped from him were soft, terrified: “I’m scared I won’t be enough.”

She shook her head. “You’re everything.”

He swallowed hard, forcing down the tears.

But deep inside, paranoia dug its roots. Every day brought him closer to a moment he remembered too clearly. The birth. The hospital. The silence.

He wouldn't let it happen again.

He couldn't.

He didn’t know how he got this second chance.

But he’d protect them.

No matter the cost.

[whorerificstuff]

I drew a guy

[whorerificstuff]

Part II: One Year Later

Continuation to that Genshin men x pregnant female reader

The house had grown quieter with time, not in peace, but in absence. Every sound that once belonged there, soft laughter, tiny footsteps, midnight cries,had long faded into memory.

A full year had passed since the day the rain refused to stop and the ground took in the person who once made life feel full. A year since a fragile child was placed into tired arms, the only piece left of love now buried. A year of learning to be both mother and father. A year of breaking and rebuilding. A year of enduring.

And then came the sickness.

It began as a cough, soft and occasional. Then came the fever. The labored breaths. The panic. The helplessness.

Hospitals had always been terrifying...more so now. White walls. Cold air. Machines that hummed indifferently while a tiny body lay still, fighting. He held those small fingers in his, watching the rise and fall of a chest that seemed to struggle for every breath.

He had whispered promises.

“You’ll get better.”

“You’re strong.”

“You can’t leave, not you too.”

But hope began to rot in his chest like something spoiled. The smiles from nurses were forced. The looks from doctors...careful. Hesitant.

“We’ll try everything,” they said.

They always say that.

The beeping slowed.

Then stopped.

The silence that followed wasn’t new. He’d known it once before, when love slipped from his hands like sand. But this one...this one shattered what was left.

He held the small, lifeless body. Rocked it. Begged.

“You’re just sleeping, right?”

“I’m here. I’m still here…”

No one answered.

He buried the child beside the one he had once shared a life with.

Two graves.

Two losses.

Too much.

He stood there under the heavy rain, no umbrella this time. He wanted to feel it all, every cold drop, every shiver, every ache that came with it. The wind howled like a grieving mother. The storm seemed endless.

Everyone else had gone. The concerned few stayed behind just long enough to make sure he didn’t collapse. But eventually, even they left. All that remained was him and the graves.

He knelt between them, soaked and trembling, running his hand across the carved stone.

“I did everything I could,” he whispered. “I loved her. I loved both of you.”

His voice broke.

“I was all she had. And I still wasn’t enough.”

His throat burned from crying. But the tears came anyway.

“I don’t know how to keep going.”

He closed his eyes, trying to remember warmth, laughter, softness. The way the baby used to wrap her fingers around one of his. The way her tiny body fit perfectly against his chest. The way she smiled...just like the one who gave birth to her.

All of it, gone.

The nursery was untouched, just as it had been the day she left it. The toys, the clothes, the soft scent of baby powder. Everything sat in waiting, quiet and cruel.

He sat in the rocking chair that was once his refuge during sleepless nights. This time, there was no bundle to hold. Just silence. Just arms aching for something they would never carry again.

The pain wasn’t loud anymore. It was a steady, crushing weight. Not sharp, deep, like drowning without water. Like screaming without sound.

He sat there until morning, blanket clutched against his chest, rocking slowly.

And when the sun finally rose, casting light through the window and across the empty crib, it felt wrong.

There should have been cries.

There should have been life.

But there was only one heartbeat in that house now.

One heartbeat.

And too much silence.

SUBJECT TO CHANGE

I honestly dont remember what happened in the prervious fic

Should I continue?

[whorerificstuff]

Price: Php 49,000

Rarely used only issues are the dots on the screen; overall, it functions the same when first bought. Wacom Stand already attached and included + mini keyboard + large Wacom mousepad. With a screen protector already attached to the main screen. Everything is from Wacom except for the mini keyboard. The original box is unfortunately not included as it was ruined during typhoon Ursula.

(I'm done with drawing)

The delivery couriers are J&T (Philippines) and LBC (International). I'll make sure to package it safely and securely. I'll also shoulder the shipping fee.

I'm selling it because I'm saving money to leave my country.

Message me if you're interested or if you'd like to negotiate!

[whorerificstuff]

I've requested someone with this but I forgot who they were I didn't want to forget the idea so I'll just post it, it went something with-

Tighnari have you as his cute girlfriend he couldn't help but kiss you whenever you're in his line of sight. You have the softest and squishiest cheeks. He would squish your cheeks together and kiss your puckered lips. Even when you try to get away from him he just won't let you. You're just so damn cute he couldn't resist pouncing on you with a hug and pepper your face with kisses. You try to resist from his grip but Tighnari will not just let you go.

When it's just the two of you alone he would sometimes nip on your cheek it's just so soft. He would nestle his face on your neck tickling you with his kisses his tail swooshing left and right.

Whenever you're in a meeting or when everyone is all gathered together he would be behind you his chin resting on your head ( You're shorter than him) His arms wrapped around your waist protectively. He's doing that because last time he wasn't there someone tried to flirt with you so now he follows you wherever he goes, you don't mind it though, you both have the same schedules and usually it's you that follows him.

He sees you hugging his potential rival he would glare at them and drag you with him, away from the person who you have no romantic feelings for. It's not that Tighnari doesn't trust you, he doesn't trust anyone who he thinks is a rival. His instincts automatically says 'competitor' or that someone is trying to challenge and take his 'mate' which was you.

You scold him for scaring away your friend, you see his ears and tail droop down while you scold him. You sigh and tell him you're only for him while you hold his hands and kissing his nose to which his ears immediately shot up and got his tail wagging.

When it's time for napping or cuddling he would be the big spoon in the relationship. People would sometimes see you in between Tighnari's legs your back pressed against him while he has his arms wrap around your torso preventing you from moving away. He has his head placed either on your shoulder or your head and whenever he wakes up or feels like it he would kiss your neck to your cheek he would even hold and intertwine your hands and move it towards him then kisses it. You kiss him back on the lips too, he deserves it.

[whorerificstuff]

I forgot I exist

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I miss these two

HAPPY GRUVIA DAY 2023 ☔️❄️🩵

Art by Hiro Mashima

[whorerificstuff]

My ego so high but my self confidence so fucking low. I hate my narcissistic ass

[whorerificstuff]

July 13, 2023

Our dog, Mabel passed away.

[whorerificstuff]

I love albedo I want to be in a relationship with albedo I want albedo to marry me I want to be his wife And the mother of his children

[whorerificstuff]

Anybody knows any more Albedo x reader series besides Drink Me Potion cuz i just finished reading it and i am craving for more Albedo. PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME