#Ignore the broken English

[canonfatbisexualenby]

Reading one of my FIRST self insert fics I wrote at 13 for E.lfen L.ied 💀💀💀

Kinda cute that I named the character Sara and now have an S/I w/ the same name :-))!

[batmess]

i was scrolling on tiktok and i saw the light... HYJ AND SHJ AU WITH THE PERFECT MARRIAGE REVENGE PLOT

the couple first interaction after the fl regression (yes, we have that here too, this drama is a must watch) is her basically telling him "hey you are not my type but i need to USE YOU for my revenge lets marry" and the ml it's like "well that's interesting, you caught my attention and already fell for you" THAT'S JINJAE

[samadiz]

Pov: The Grand masters woke up and they are angry. Who woke them up?

Yeah, the kids.

Well, they learn the lesson

So yeah, my mind works hard with this meme xD

Sorry for the bad English, I'm still learning 🙏

[lampfaced]

so the living room is basically our cat Gem's play room.

we have put a blanket down on the floor that lives there as her play mat.

she has a bunch of small felt catnip toys, but we also have the Spamton plush that lives with the toys, because it seemed fitting. we removed the voice box and replaced it with a bag of catnip because... we could. so far she hasn't cared much over the past few years he's had it.

sometimes cat gets zoomies and ferrets around under the blanket, especially when left to her own devices.

somehow, Spamton made it away from her nearby bed and closer playmat. I caught her rubbing her face on his nose earlier.

just now I came out of the other room, saw what I saw, and asked @mixterglacia if he had done anything with Spamton. the answer is no.

our cat put Spamton to bed and tucked him in.

[shuturmouth09]

Me: mom you dont get it I NEED to have a light highlights

Mom: why?

Me: * showing a picture of a character from a cancelled cartoon for 10 year olds from almost decade ago made to sell dolls*

[coquelicoq]

i've gotten so used to my daily practice of reading french aloud that now when i have to read something boring in english for work i default to reading it aloud. which takes way longer and also i feel like i retain even less information than i would otherwise, somehow. the upside is that my oral reading cadence in english, even of dense scientific articles, is rather excellent nowadays. i could read scientific articles out loud for a living, if that was a thing people needed me to do. which they do not, because screenreaders are a thing. maybe i could read crusty PDFs out loud for a living? but anyway all this is to say shoutout to my man alexandre dumas and also my other man victor hugo for training me to read run-on sentences in my second language. after that, dry journal articles in my first language are easy peasy.

[eddis-not-eeddis]

I have had a sword for a little less than 24 hours, and already I have driven off a man with it.

[psychoana16]

Changed some stuff here to fit more my current self.... And I still can't figure out how to make it look good on mobile

HOW DOES IT WORK AAAA

[bbugsy]

can y’all guess what my fave food is based on my totk meal inventory lmao

[vanrougenui]

georgian girls always like the wrong vefxistyaosani men 💀 if avtandili was real he would be those male manipulator 2000 type of dudes that wears dior sauvage:/// leaving your soon to be wife to "help your bro find his boo" and also because you felt a connection with him IS GAY AS HELL 😨 i will never forgive that bitch for doing my woman fatmani wrong NEVER (plus he cheated on tinatin in the process not cute NOT CUTE). now TARIELI i have read that whole poem five times NOT ONCE DO I REMEMBER TARIELI MAKE A RIGHT DECISION AND THAT MAN WAS IN LINE FOR THE INDIAN THRONE GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER weird suicidal man with hysteria all he was doing was fainting crying fainting more and crying не мужик а пиздострадалец AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON THAT SCENE WITH THE LION AND THE TIGER CRAZYYYY MAN CRAZY... AND LAST FRIDONI 😍😍😍 MY MANS LOVE HIM HE IS BEST ONE IN THIS SHIT SHOW yes he is a bit gay too BUT ALL HIS POSITIVE QUALITIES CANCEL THAT OUT READING THIS POEM SO MANY TIMES NOT ONCE DID HE ANNOY ME OR MAKE ME CRINGE sadly he doesnt have that many appearances and he shows up half way through the poem BUT STILL OH GOD DO I LOVE HIM SELFLESS MAN HE GAVE THAT истеричка HIS BELOVED HORSE BECAUSE HE DIDNT HAVE ANY AND HE WAS A GOOD MONARCH TOO I LOVE A CONFIDENT LOUD AND A GOOD MAN DIDNT DO A SINGLE WRONG THING IN THIS POEM ONCE AND HE IS MOST UNDERAPPRECIATED ONE OUT OF THOSE THREE I NEVER GOT WHY EVERY LIKES AVTANDILI SO MUCH AND FIDONI IS UNDERRATED HE DESERVES SO MUCH MORE LOVE

[fingertipsmp3]

Well I’m sleep deprived, I have a low level uti, I accidentally overshared to the wrong person and I yelled at a student because he disrespected someone who looked like my friend but wasn’t. How’s everyone’s Thursday going

[em-ontv]

Soothe and pamper.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: it had been a long week of hunting, and Dean said he was fine… until you came in, of course.

Content: fluff, Dean being needy and overdramatic (and clingy), no use of y/n, Sam being the third wheel (kind of)

English is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes!

Word count: 653

Dean Winchester was a master at the "I'm fine" act. After years of being on the hunt, he could brush off a rough week like it was second nature. So, when Sam asked if he was okay after their latest exhausting hunt, he just scoffed, as usual.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." Dean said, waving a dismissive hand like he was brushing off a pesky fly, as if he hadn't spent the last seven days chasing after demons across two states.

"Quit worrying, Sammy."

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn't press any further. This was like Dean's default setting—deny, deflect, and pretend like everything was cool, even if he looked like he'd been chewed up and spat out.

But then, you walked into the room.

As soon as Dean caught sight of you, his entire demeanor shifted. The tough-as-nails hunter, who moments ago had been shrugging off his brother's concern, let out an over-the-top groan so loud it echoed through the bunker.

You barely had a chance to say a word before Dean threw himself into your arms like a wounded soldier returning from battle.

"This week—oh, you wouldn't believe it!" He buried his face into your shoulder with a pitiful groan, his voice muffled against your shirt. "It's been so bad, baby. So bad."

You could feel the weight of his body sag against yours, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

It would've been pathetic if it wasn't so funny.

"I don't know how I made it out alive," Dean continued, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. "The food was nasty, the motel beds were terrible, and don't even get me started on the demons!"

You ran your fingers through his hair as he rambled on, completely lost in the comfort of being with you.

"Do you see this?" He gestured toward his body. "I'm a broken man."

Sam, watching this unfold, rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck. "You've gotta be kidding me."

And Dean ignored him completely.

"You're the only one who understands, sweetheart." He whined, clinging onto you like his life depended on it. "Sam's no help, he doesn't get it."

"Dean," you said, struggling to keep a straight face. "You were fine like five seconds ago."

"What are you talking about?" He squeezed you tighter, feigning innocence. "I was just holding it all in. I didn't want to scare Sammy. But now... now I can finally let it all out."

"Uh-huh," you said dryly. "And how much of this is just you wanting to get pampered?"

Dean gasped in mock offense, pulling back to look at you again. "Me? Using my genuine suffering to get pampered? I would never—"

You raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated for a second, then smirked. "Okay, maybe a little."

Sam snorted in the background, shaking his head as he headed for the door. "You two are ridiculous," he called over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. "Well, what can I do to make it better, Dean?"

He was still leaning heavily into your embrace. "You. Me. Bed. Cuddles... for my emotional well-being, of course."

You smiled slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "And all your troubles will disappear?"

"Exactly," Dean grumbled, sounding so serious you had to hold back a laugh. "Exactly." He sighed, content now, taking advantage of the situation for all it was worth.

"And if you throw in a back rub, I'll be a whole new man by morning." He added, his lips twitched into a smile.

"Alright, drama queen. But only because I know how hard it is to be you." you laughed softly.

"You're the only one who understands." Dean murmured, his voice filled with gratitude.

[kurooangel]

too big, ── ft. suna r. ✦

smut. timeskip haikyuu. relationship established. not translate/repost my work anywhere. english is not my first language!! ,, masterlist. spanish vers. here!

even if you and rintaro have been dating for a few years, you still didn't get used to his size. it was too big.

"fuuuck..." you whined. his mouth leaving a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. "baby, please... go slower"

he ignored your request and his hips rock against yours again, wildly and fiercely. the sound of your moans filling the bedroom everytime he fills your dripping cunt. you feel the tears budding up in your eyes and some of them falling down on your red cheeks.

"aw, sweetheart, are you crying?" he smirked and kissed your cheeks where the tears were falling. "you can take it, babe. c'mon, show me what a good girl you are." suna whispered against your lips before capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, slipping his tongue and interlacing it with yours.

he stopped moving and let you squeeze his cock, aching for more. you pulled back from the kiss and your teary eyes meet with his, your gaze full of lust matching his own.

"why did you stop?" you whispered, your voice a broken pleading and your nails digging into his back. "please, rin', keep going. please, please."

"just admiring the view. such a needy thing you are, sweetheart." he teased. his smirk widened and thrusted his cock against your core again, wildly, feeling your cunt hug him. "god, babe, you feel so good, so, so good." he groans.

suna's pace speeded even more and his thrusts getting rougher, his tip reaching your sweet spot again and again and again. your nails scratched his back all was down, leaving red lines by its path. he devoured your lips, his tongue invading your mouth without asking for permission, just because he can, just because you're his.

"rin, is too much, I'm gonna..." you gasp against his lips, feeling your ecstasy coming.

"shut up and take it, be a good girl" suna's voice is ragged, full of desire, and he keeps using your pussy without any mercy.

don't forget to like + reblog and let me know what you think ! love yall ♡♡ MORE WORKS: mlist.

[heliophaestus]

.

[userblaney]

rewoialkjsdhfrieu amar fufura amaderke eider jonno lehnga dese kintu amar ghare beshi chappa...screaming crying throwing up bc amar ammu bolse i have 'beta manusher ghar'...i pretended to be annoyed kintu obviously thats not the case karon ME??? 'beta'???? hell yeah...anywayz

[azrielsrealmate]

who cares about you?

azriel x reader

summary: azriel comes home after a long mission, injured and in search for the comfort of his mate arms.

warnings: nudity(? injuries

word count: 2.5k

english isnt my fist language ladies🥶 soo forgive any possible mistake. To this point I don’t know if I should do maybe a masterlist? 👀

Your heart skips a beat in anticipation, the weariness of the night instantly forgotten as you cross the room to open the door. But the moment you do, that spark of enthusiasm is extinguished, replaced by a deep concern that stabs into you like a dagger, twisting and squeezing your heart.

Azriel stands there, his dark figure outlined against the dimness of the hallway, but it’s his condition that makes the air catch in your lungs. His shadows are agitated, swirling around him with a restlessness that reflects the turmoil within him—they don’t come to greet you as they usually do, they don’t disappear. The blood, mostly dried but still visible, runs from a wound on his brow, trailing down his face to his chin. The smell of iron, mixed with his own scent, is unmistakable. Anxiety has scarred, large hands, and it squeezes your stomach.

“Azriel...” you whisper, the anguish clear in your voice.

But the instant his honeyed eyes meet yours, his expression shifts. The sharp edges soften so as not to cut you, the intensity of his gaze mitigated by something far more tender. With a gentleness that contrasts with his appearance, he brings his hand to your cheek and cups it, his thumb tracing a soft path along your skin.

You lean into his touch, and your eyes flutter closed for just a fraction of a second, your own hand landing on his, as if you could keep that gentle touch there forever. The warmth of his hand is a balm, but not enough to quell the worry growing inside you.

Azriel steps forward, and you remain where you are, and you don’t know how you survived two weeks without seeing him, when the closeness you now share feels like oxygen, you’d suffocate if he stepped away.

You see the conflict in his gaze as you tilt your head back to look at him, the self-loathing he has for worrying you this way. Then, without warning, he dips his head and presses a kiss to your forehead as he opens his side of your bond, which had been closed for those two weeks. The touch of his lips is so soft that you barely feel it, but the intent is clear.

He was fine. He was here. And he doesn’t push you away, he doesn’t shut you out.

But you can’t bear to see him like this, broken, hurt. Ignoring the knot forming in your throat, you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a desperate hug. His reaction is immediate: a gasp of pain escapes his lips.

You pull away instantly, your brow furrowing into a grimace of anguish. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice breaking, your hands trembling as you lower them to your sides. But he doesn’t let you pull away any more than necessary, his hand still on your cheek, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that makes you tremble.

He sinks onto the edge of the bed, his body clearly exhausted, and you, without wasting a second, hurry to fetch a bucket of hot water and a cloth. The urgency to care for him, to heal each of his wounds, drives you beyond your own fatigue.

When you return to his side, cloth in hand, you prepare to clean the blood from his face, but Azriel, with that dexterity and strength that never seems to leave him, surprises you. Before you can react, he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs pressed against his hips.

“Azriel,” you protest softly, but there’s no real force in your words. Not when his gaze is so close, when his hands keep you in the only place where both of you can breathe easily.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his breath brushing your lips. “Let me hold you... just for a moment.”

And even though you know you should be focused on tending to his wounds, on making sure he’s not more hurt than he appears, you surrender to the warmth of his body for a second.

The warmth of Azriel’s body, wrapped around yours, feels like you’re finally fitting a missing piece into a puzzle. His hands grip your hips as if he fears you might pull away from him at any moment, and the thought seems ridiculous in your mind, all you want is to let him hold you. But the wound on his brow, the dried blood staining his face, pulls you back to reality.

You’re torn between staying like this, lost in the safety of his embrace, and the urgency to tend to his wounds. The weight of the worry is so intense you can barely stand it. You slide a hand along his cheek, brushing aside a loose strand of his dark hair, and refocus on the task at hand.

“Let me clean this,” you whisper, lifting the warm, damp cloth to his face.

Azriel watches you, his dark eyes shining with a mix of emotions you can’t quite decipher. But he doesn’t resist; he simply stays still as you gently clean the blood from his brow, revealing the small but deep wound beneath. Each movement is slow, careful, as if you fear any additional pressure could cause him more pain. Though even if you did, he wouldn’t react.

He gently massages your hips, his hands appreciating the curve, and his eyes drop to your neck, lingering there, clean skin with no marks, the irrefutable proof that he’s been away for a while, because you always bore some hidden hickey or bite marks on your neck. Azriel was possessive, and he didn’t hide it. You could almost swear that he’s holding himself back from burying his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder.

It’s in that moment, as you slide the cloth along his skin with the utmost delicacy, that you feel a tug in your left shoulder. It’s barely noticeable at first, so you ignore it, but as you continue, the pain becomes sharper, a twinge that makes you catch your breath. You try to ignore it again, focusing on Azriel, but he notices. Of course, he notices.

His brow furrows, and the concern deepens in his features. His grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer to his body. Just slightly. “What’s wrong with your arm?” His voice is low, but there’s no hiding the insistence in it.

“It’s nothing important,” you try to say, attempting to sound convincing as you avert your gaze, turning your attention back to his wound. But Azriel isn’t someone who accepts evasions, and before you can continue, his hand catches yours, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You sigh, knowing you can’t hide the truth from him. “Training was a bit tougher today,” you confess, trying to sound nonchalant, but the worry in his face forces you to go on. “Gwyn threw a bad punch, and… well, my shoulder has been hurting since then.”

The shadow of a tense muscle appears in his jaw, and you can see him struggling to stay calm. His eyes darken with a mix of guilt and anger, not toward you, but toward the situation. His hand slides from your hip to your left shoulder, with a touch so gentle it almost breaks you completely. It had taken you a long time to accept his gentle touches without bursting into tears.

“You should have told me earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper as his fingers caress the sore area. “You could have hurt yourself more.”

You almost let out a sarcastic comment. When it’s him training you, you end up even more sore.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you choose to respond, your voice just as low, but he shakes his head before you can finish.

“I worry more if you don’t tell me.”

You fall silent, letting his words sink in, feeling the truth in them. But as the weight of his concern and the warmth of his touch envelop you, a spark of resistance ignites within you, a reminder that you’re not someone who simply stands by, even when it comes to him.

“Azriel…” you begin, but he interrupts you, his voice low but determined.

“Let me handle this,” he says, his gaze fixed on yours, and you can see the exhaustion behind his firmness, the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Yet, something in his tone, in the way he asks you to lean on him, provokes an unexpected reaction in you. It’s not just concern; it’s the guilt that seems to consume him, the need to do something, anything, to feel less powerless. It frustrates you, it’s not his duty to take care of you, especially not when you’re the one trying to take care of him.

“What if I don’t want to?” You respond softly, the challenge subtle but clear in your voice. Azriel blinks, the only sign of surprise he allows to show, but he doesn’t release his grip on your hips.

“Why should you carry everything? Why is it always you who has to protect me, who has to take care of everyone?” you continue, your words soft but laden with a weight you know he understands. He doesn’t just take care of you, he takes care of his entire family. And not just by protecting his Court—he’s always there for anyone who needs him. A solid rock you can lean on. “You worry so much about me, about everyone, but who worries about you, Azriel? Who takes care of you?”

The silence that follows is dense, heavy with unspoken emotions. Azriel lowers his gaze for a moment, his shadows fluttering restlessly around the two of you, around him, appearing from where they had hidden, only to disappear again. And you know, after long hours of studying their patterns, that his shadows are around him when they feel the need to protect him; they hide when he’s completely and utterly safe. When he lifts his head again, there’s something different in his eyes, something vulnerable that he rarely lets others see.

“I don’t know how,” he admits, turning his gaze away, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it.

It hurts to hear him say that, but it also fills you with a new determination, a need to show him that he’s not alone. Gently, you place your hand over his, the one still resting on your hip, and squeeze it firmly.

“Then we’ll learn together,” you say, and there’s a promise in those words, a promise that you won’t let him face this burden alone. “You don’t have to do everything yourself, Azriel. You don’t have to be the shield and the sword all the time. Sometimes… sometimes it’s enough just to be you.”

The silence returns, but this time it’s different. It’s a silence filled with understanding, with a tacit agreement that both of you have reached. Azriel nods slightly, accepting the truth you’ve laid before him, though it’s still hard for him to let go of that control he values so much.

With a sigh, he leans forward, his forehead touching yours, and in that contact, you feel the tension in his body ease just a little. “I need you,” he murmurs, the confession a barely audible whisper between you, but it hits you with the force of a gale. “I need you more than I can bear sometimes.”

The knot in your chest tightens, but instead of speaking, you decide to show him that you understand. Sliding your hands up to his neck, you bring his lips to yours in a soft kiss, but one loaded with all the emotions you don’t need to verbalize. Azriel responds with restrained urgency, as if that kiss were an anchor in the middle of a storm threatening to sweep him away.

When you finally pull apart, you stay there, looking at him, seeing the internal battle playing out in his eyes. Without saying another word, you move, sliding off his lap and pulling his hand to get him to stand with you. Although his brow furrows in confusion, he doesn’t resist.

You lead him to the bathroom, to the tub where the water is still warm. Without releasing his hand, you start undressing him, your fingers deftly undoing his clothes while his eyes remain fixed on you, a mix of surprise and something more shining in them. It’s not a gesture of desire, not now, but an act of care. Of showing him that he can let go, that it’s okay to trust you to be the one to take care of him for once.

Azriel doesn’t say anything, but he lets you proceed, his breathing uneven as you guide him into the tub, helping him into the water. Only then do you join him, carefully getting into the tub, sitting behind him, and pulling him toward you, his back against your chest, being mindful of his wings.

For a moment, both of you remain silent, the water enveloping you in a warm embrace, your hands gently caressing his arms as you feel his body finally begin to relax against yours. And then, in the safe haven you’ve created for him without even realizing it, Azriel lets all his barriers fall, resting his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes as a deep, almost relieved sigh escapes his lips.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur softly. “I’ve got you.”