What If They ALL Were Super Awesome And Were Cookies

A totally real line in the FNAF 2 movie,,,

War Aftermath 🏥

He's perfectly fine!!!

Edit: Woah thank you for all the love on my illustrations!! I love Tomu sm!!! 🥺💗💗💗

redheads in ribbons, gotta be my favourite gender

then and now (miss version)

Support My Family Journey to Safety and Peace

🚨Urgent Appeal 🚨

My name is Jaber Al-Haj. I am from Gaza, married to my wife, Menna, and we have a little son named Hashim, who is less than two years old. Like any Palestinian family, we dreamed of a simple and stable life. But the recent war turned our lives upside down. The sounds of explosions never left us, and fear has become part of our daily existence. My son Hashim suffers from health problems that urgently require treatment, but the war has destroyed everything, including the healthcare system, making access to necessary medical care nearly impossible. With each passing day, our suffering deepens, and the fear for Hashim’s health and future consumes me.

Alongside my small family, I used to work with my brothers, Aboud and Bilal, on our joint project—a small lab for producing essential household cleaning products. We started this project with modest resources, dreaming that it would become a source of income to support us and provide job opportunities for our community. But the war left us with nothing. Our lab, which was once filled with life and hard work, was reduced to rubble under the bombardment. We lost our equipment, our livelihood, and with it, a part of our dreams for the future.

Even our home, our only refuge, did not escape the destruction. It was severely damaged and is now uninhabitable. We were forced to flee and live in a tent under harsh conditions unfit for human life. The cold, the heat, the lack of resources, and the absence of privacy have made life nearly unbearable. We try to cope, but every day brings new challenges and suffering.

Today, what worries me the most is my son Hashim's condition. His health is deteriorating, and he desperately needs treatment abroad. However, under the circumstances we’re living in, I lack the means to secure his travel and medical expenses. As a father, there is nothing more heartbreaking than watching my child suffer while being unable to help him.

This campaign is a lifeline for my family in our darkest hour. With your generosity, we can bring hope back into our lives and secure a better future for my son, Hashim. Every contribution, no matter how small, makes a world of difference.

Please support us through the link below:

👉 https://gofund.me/b8dbbb43

Thank you for standing with us and helping us through this difficult time. Your kindness means more than words can express.

With heartfelt gratitude, Jaber AlHaj

✅ My Campaign ✅ 🔍Vetted by @90-ghost here 🔍Vetted by association in this post

gofundme.com

Donate to Support a Family's Journey to Safety and Peace, organized by Jaber Alhaj

My name is Jaber AlHaj, a graduate with honors in Applied Chemistry. I curr… Jaber Alhaj needs your support for Support a Family's Journey t

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The girlsss (and the winged lion)

I think this two forms are my favorite so far in the series. Falin is just a chicken... and Marcille is a fashion icon!! I do not know how to draw a lion nor a chicken tho so both was quite hard to draw...

Fu Hua/Senti's character arc in a nutshell

correcting wrongs nsfw teacher ! zhongli x student brat ! bttm m reader

Clad in a brown turtleneck with an almost unamused expression on his face, your professor was nothing short of being “the best in the business.” His stoic nature paired with those strikingly sharp features made him easy on the eyes, and strangely attractive.

He wasn't soft spoken, but his words were always delivered gently, tinged with a rasp from his low speaking register. A real heartthrob of a teacher.

Though he was kind to others, you seemed to be the one thing that made him slightly annoyed. Every conversation you had with him usually ended with a pinch of his nose bridge, a sigh, and a dismiss with the wave of his hand. Your bratty attitude towards him was almost bearable until it wasn't.

In a cliché fashion, Zhongli had asked you to come to his office in the afternoon when classes finished, and you did.

“Are my teaching methods not good enough for you?” You can hear the exhaustion weigh on his words as he pushes himself off the chair to stand.

You don't respond, the words seem to dissipate in your throat the moment he begins to scold you.

“What is the issue? I'm trying to understand,” A hand grabs your shoulder, and you lift your head to glance at Zhongli's face. He wears the classic 'teacher expression,' one that oddly reminds you of a parent.

“I'm more of a hands on learner,” you shrug, and its apparent in Zhongli's face that he picks up your little tease. There's a slight confusion in his eyes before it's masked to be unreadable. A sigh leaves his lips as his hands move to cuff the edges of his sleeve up, sliding his watch off and placing it on his desk with a small thud.

“I'm willing to adjust my methods if it means you'll behave more accordingly.” He carefully grabs your wrist, guiding it towards the papers on his desk, planting your hand firmly onto the sheet. Zhongli stands behind you, his chest almost touching your back from how close he was. He lets your fingers trace the printed letters to study the content on the page, but it's all a jumble of useless words to you, especially when your attractive teacher is right behind you.

“This is boring,” you whine, trying to pull your hand from underneath Zhongli's.

“Are you having difficulty concentrating?” He asks, the velvety tone of his voice violates your ears like it's crawling through your brain. It's a tingly feeling you can't shake off.

“As if it would be that—” You're cut off by the involuntary hitch of your breath as his cold fingers grace the side of your waist. They travel down to your hips, sneaking under your pants before they retreat.

“Maybe some concentration exercises? To help you stop getting distracted.”

You swallow. Thickly. You're about to jab a snarky remark at him before you feel his hand push down the back of your head, forcing you to look down at the worksheets on his desk. His free hand wrangles his tie, pulling it off to bind your wrists together. Zhongli rests his hands on your hips as he leans into your ear, his breath hot against the shell.

“Do you want me to stop?” Zhongli's fingers rest lightly on the waistband of your pants, like he's waiting for the greenlight to pull them off. He's too patient with you—he doesn't pry at all—and when you don't give him a response he kindly removes himself from you.

“No— um,” You stumble over your words as he pulls away, unable to conjure a coherent sentence in your head to respond. It's almost like your pride is blocking your throat but you push out a few words, just so he knows.

“It's fine,” you breathe, quickly turning your head away from him to save yourself some dignity.

You don't see it, but he smiled ever so slightly, returning to his previous position. Zhongli's fingers slip down, slowly dragging the zipper lower as he watches your eyes fixate on the pages infront of you. His hands—oddly soft and warm—meets your pelvis before they slide down to the elastic of your underwear. With a small flick of his wrists, he's able to pull your boxers off and down low enough that it sits neatly at your mid thigh.

Your breath hitches and you drag your eyes away from the text and to his hands that are gently running up the sides of your thigh. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, using his free hand to tap the sheet infront of you.

“Focus. Eyes on the paper.” His hands pull away from your body—only to unbuckle his belt, though you misinterprete his actions—and you spin your head around to question him. He's already pulled his belt off and taps your forehead with the end of it. “Needy,” he scolds.

Fabric noises fill the empty office and you see him reach over to dish a packet from his wallet—he keeps those on him at all time. You recognise the sound, the latex rolling on, the slight snap as he fixes it to be more comfortable, and the feeling of wetness against your skin.

He uses his hand to push the back of your head down once again, “Don't pay attention to what I am doing, focus on the content.” He's probably mentioned the word 'focus' five times by now.

Zhongli uses his thumb to part your flesh, giving way for him to nuzzle his head against your hole. He's exactly how you imagined him to be, except all you can really feel is the condom rather than his skin, none of his veins and all—which was, really, the more important details.

Its a slow movement as he slides himself into you, gently kneading the plush of your waist—an absent-minded habit you assume. He's not excruciatingly thick; he's rather average, but there's something about the way he could reach so deep without causing any external pain makes your knees buck just a little.

All the words and educational paragraphs all become a blur the moment he fully sheaths himself inside of you. He pauses, letting you soak in the situation before he pulls out, only just to slam himself back in. Your little gasps and moans earns another cruel thrust, forcing you to arch your back as he holds you in place.

“It's difficult, is it?” He's using that teacher tone on you, but you can tell there's a slight mock in his voice as he watches you disregard the paper, crumpling it under your hands as you grip at anything you can.

“I can always assign you easier work if that makes you feel better.” He tilts your head back, letting you see him through the corner of your eye as he continuously pounds into you, the obscene sound of skin against skin loud enough that you started to worry the janitors wold hear.

“I can do it,” you grit through your teeth despite the pants and whispers.

“I don't think you can,” he cooes, gently holding your jaw as he lets you rest your head against his palm. The only reason he's holding your head up is to ensure you don't get a headache from how hard your body is recoiling from his thrusts.

He practically drags his cock in and out of you, angling his hips in a way that would hit your prostate almost every single time. His hands were gentle on your skin, holding you like you were a porcelain doll, but his thrusts were punishing.

As your whines grew, he knew you were getting close, seeing the way your legs trembled underneath you, barely holding you up. The hand Zhongli had on your hip moves to pick up your leaking tip in his hands, smoothing his thumb over the slit. He holds it there, denying you of any release.

“Are you ready to listen in my lectures?” He hums, leaning his head down to get a good look at your face.

“No more talking back?” he adds, marvelling in the way you're eyes dip in and out of focus. You nod, unable to find your voice from how hard you were yelling while he was hitting all the right spots. He flashes a polite smile, removing his thumb from blocking your urethra and gently massaging your tip to coax out a orgasm.

It hits you like a train, sparks darting across your vision as your dick stiffens, spurting out a copious amount of white all over Zhongli's desk. You go limp in his hold, chest still heaving from the intensity of your high. It takes a few more, slow pumps before he's pulling out, taking off the used plastic and throwing it into the trash can underneath his desk.

“How was that? Did I do your 'hands on learning' correct?” He could really enchant someone with that voice.

a / n : sorry this was short T T I just needed to get something out . I literally forgot how Zhongli acted halfway through so this is probably very ooc . . .

often the choice comes down to eat a meal and shower or kill yourself