#Precious writing i love it

[kedreeva]

as a reminder to literally anyone and everyone who even so much as considers this: AO3 has NO autosave ability when you're making drafts, so PLEASE do not use it instead of a writing program.

If their server goes down, if you hit a wrong button and refresh the page or go back to the previous page, if you accidentally close the browser, if your browser or device crashes, etc etc etc you are shit out of luck. Your work is gone forever, it didn't backup to anywhere and there is NO recovery option. Even TUMBLR's drafting ability is supposed to autosave and often does.

If you want to avoid gdocs that's fine- there's other text editors with simple autosave options, like Online Notepad or Digital Scholar's notepad, or there's still local-drive writing programs that are free and open source, like LibreOffice. PLEASE do not use AO3 to write your stories into directly. It has NOTHING.

[kikayyam]

Keeping in touch

[fettuccin-e]

Hey noodle! Congrats babe, you deserve it ☺️ what are your thots on “just a little more” and our messy boy Steven Grant? 😈

Hi Mona!!! omg thank you sm!!! and thank you for requesting!!! and for steven?? PRECIOUS HUSBAND STEVEN??? how could i refuse ESPECIALLY because i know this boy is filthyyy and fucking needy as all hell okay ilysm thank you again!!

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader, afab!fem!reader, fingerfucking (r!recieving), unprotected piv, riding, uhh squirting pls dont fucking look at me i am ashamed, overstimulation, light degradation, so much praise holy shit (w/c: 1.1K)

Prompt: "Just a little more."

It’s honestly not that Steven likes to edge himself, or has some kind of fucking superhuman stamina in bed with you.

No, you’ve sucked him off in five minutes flat before, Steven twitching beneath you while he whined, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck it’s so good, you’re so fucking perfect, shit-” while he spilled down your throat. Marc never let him live that one down.

But you swear that sometimes, when he’s got his face or fingers or cock buried deep, so deep inside your cunt, Steven forgets that he has to cum at all.

He gets lost in it, mumbling about how gorgeous you are, how wet you get for him, how good you taste. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cum, how you cry and wail with every orgasm he wrenches out of your heaving body, he just wants more and more and more. Ravenous.

“Steven, please, I ca-I can’t, oh please-” your pussy makes noises that are utterly obscene, squishing against his hand as he works his fingers into you, jamming relentlessly against your g-spot. You aren’t even sure what you’re begging for at this point; for him to make you cum again, for him to fuck you like you’ve been begging for, for him to show some mercy.

But even then, it’s like he can’t hear you, eyes focused on the way you spread and leak over his fingers, mesmerized by the way you clench around his fingers. He’s been like this since the first orgasm of the night, maybe the second, but God, he just keeps going. He keeps pressing soft kisses to your trembling thighs, using his free arm to brace over your twitching hips while he plays relentlessly with your aching cunt.

It’s too much, he’s been at this for too fucking long, God, you’re leaking everywhere, the bedsheets damp with it. He just won’t let up, your beautiful, treacherous lover, and your whole body locks again with the force of your orgasm, the squeeze of your pussy nearly forcing his fingers out.

His gaze snaps up to your face in an instant, and you can hear his voice through the rush of blood in your ears, murmuring, “That’s it, darling, my God you’re beautiful, so pretty, this pussy’s so tight for my fingers, imagine how it’ll feel around my cock, yeah? How much I’ll stretch this gorgeous cunt apart, right love?”

And it’s so sweet, so gentle, the way he speaks to you, a complete contrast to how he rips you apart with orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

“Fuck me,” you whine, high-pitched and needy, absolutely desperate. “You- you said it, that your cock would feel so fucking good, please Steven, need-need you.”

But all Steven does is chuckle darkly, stretching his fingers out inside you again, and you nearly scream. “Just a little more, darling, one more time for me, yeah?” You can only clench your eyes shut and throw your head back into the pillows.

And when you finally wear him down enough to ease his sticky fingers out of you, you immediately roll him onto his back. If he’s going to fuck you, you’re going to be in charge. You’re going to be the one to make him cum.

You ease his cock into you, hot and throbbing in your hand, and you almost want to cry as he stretches your pussy so good, so perfect, just like he said he would. He moans beneath you, the sound ripping its way out of his chest, as if he’s suddenly realized how worked up he’s gotten himself by playing with your pussy for God knows how long.

You work your hips into his, plunging his cock into you just the way you know he likes. He nudges into your sweet spot just perfectly this way too, and the sensitivity from Steven’s earlier ministrations has lighting arcing up your spine with every nudge, every grind of his cock into your sensitive pussy. 

A mewl escapes you, unabashed and louder than you meant it to,  when you slam down on his cock just right, the hair just above the base of his cock pressed against your achy clit. Steven’s hands fly to your hips immediately, holding you there with an iron grip.

That look is in his eyes again, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed as he rakes his gaze over your quaking body. He punches his hips up, making his hair grind against your clit in a way that makes your head spin, his fat cock somehow reaching deeper into your pussy.

“That’s it, love,” he says, “let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you, fuck, you look so pretty like this, writhing on my cock like a desperate little whore.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head with his words, your hips working of their own volition, on pure instinct as you work his cock into you again and again and again. It’s like you can’t get him deep enough, bouncing on his cock just like he told you to. Making yourself feel good.

When you cum, Steven groans, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips hard enough to leave bruises in their wake as you clamp down on his cock. A shaky moan rattles out of your throat at the feeling, your body aching with exhaustion, your pussy too sensitive as you clench and pulse in his hands. You feel like you could shake apart with the force of it, wrung dry under his unrelenting touch.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, and you open your eyes to see his gaze trained on your pussy, and oh shit, his stomach shines with your wetness, the sheets soaked with it. You’ve never done that before, never-

“Fuck, you made me squirt, oh my God, Steven-” your body burns with embarrassment, and you start to pull off his cock in search of a towel, or something, anything to clean up the mess you’ve made of him. But his hands hold you firm in his lap, using an unseen strength that he keeps under his button-downs and jumpers, his biceps flexing in a way that makes saliva pool in your mouth.

“Don’t you dare, darling,” his voice is a rasp, all dark and ripped apart and feral. Fuck, if it weren’t for the accent, you’d think it was Jake. “One more time, sweetheart, just one more for me.”

“Steven,” you start, but he thrusts his hips up into yours, and the movement of his still-hard cock in your sloppy, sticky cunt makes you choke on your spit.

“Just a little more, sweet girl, just-” he thrusts into you, hard and unyielding, “one more for me.”

[chaosinterlude]

“lucifer is sadistic and mean!! he’s so serious and scary!!”

meanwhile,

he’s just a silly man who wishes for a domestic life with his partner and dog <3

[epiphainie]

i've just finished my s7 rewatch and it's kinda so funny to me how much discourse people created over every bucktommy interaction when their whole arc boils down to tommy being patient and vulnerable with buck and showing up for him. like when you are not wearing shipper goggles under the name of "analysis" and don't try to reverse-engineer every word and look and shot with utmost bad faith, that's what it is. a simple and sweet story of a new exciting relationship with a guy who's understanding and willing to show up. literally the two things buck needs from a relationship but never had with his previous love interests. they are kinda sickeningly sweet and well-communicating actually lol

[popponn]

note: happy birthday fishman. please just come home already. i want to poke this cutie a lot.

you stare in disbelief at the pile of plushies in your hands, then at the empty ever-rotating crane game machine, then finally at the half-fish half-man who you get the pleasure of calling employer and boyfriend.

"...how?" you ask, still dumbfounded.

rafayel—who casually keeps a finger gun pose shamelessly in the middle of a public arcade—smirks even wider, "who do you think you are talking to?"

"someone who always misses the plushies," you answer quickly without a missing beat, before adding an afterthought, "usually. on every turn."

this response immediately makes him drop the finger gun away from his chin. changing it into a childish (and very adorable) hands on the hips pose. as animated as his gestures are, his face morphs into a pout, "hey. that's just me holding back so this place could still have a business."

"..." you doubt it, really.

"what does that face mean?" rafayel's eyebrows frown even further—which serves as enough warning that you probably should start giving him praises or you will have another spiel of how "you don't love him and even the jellyfishes that eat grass agrees with that". no one wants a repeat of that.

and also, you love him enough to think a preening smug rafayel is better than a pouting annoyed one.

"it means—" you poorly try to hide your smile, "—that i am very thankful that a really handsome guy gets me all of this. so much that i couldn't believe it."

predictably, the air around rafayel soon matches a peacock more than a fish. "hmph! good!" he says, in a manner that sounds like he will demand some spoiling the moment the two of you get home. or so you think, before he opens his mouth again and eyes the other machine a few steps behind you, "why don't you let this handsome guy get another round of plushies for you then?"

(five minutes and eight rounds later, the plushies in that other machine remain untouched.)

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

I love all your comments, no matter how short or long they are. They never fail to make my day, so never apologize for it, and I know other authors feel the same way, too.

[gingermintpepper]

There are many things people expect from one called 'God of Blood'. Always, the first thought is the blood of war, the blood of violence, the blood of the weak shed for the goals of the strong. Ares doesn't think of the blood of battle at all. When he thinks of blood, he envisions the many tied knots of blood bonds and bonds forged in the blood of battle. Blood sons and blood daughters, blood brothers and battle sisters, blood oaths and blood vengeance - he watches over them all and keeps close each one of these bonds.

One cannot begrudge his displeasure then when he realises he cannot tell Leto's offspring apart just by looking at them.

It was easier when it was just Artemis. Dark hair curled about her shoulders, a fierce mien whenever Father summons her to the mountain, a scattering of bones and blood shed whenever she was disturbed; the eldest child of Leto was a wild thing, sharp toothed with sharper claws always at the ready. There's whispers of her being a twin, of her other half being made to crawl on their belly as penance for their sin of god-slaying but Ares pays it little mind. What twins look alike among their number? Even dog litters are born distinct with all their unique markings inlaid in their fur. Artemis' twin too would be much more than their sister's mirror image.

Pouring over his list now, he wishes anything about Phoebus Apollo was that simple.

Mirror image did not begin to describe it. The twins were the same height, the same build, had the same colour and texture hair, ate the same raw food and drank the same amount of nectar. There was no difference in how they dressed, no difference in the company they kept, no variance in the weapons they used. There are some days Ares still cannot believe Phoebus will grow into a man and not some nymph with the way his ears have that slender point. He watches them now, sitting together beneath a shady palm and stringing their bows in an uncanny unison and curses because he still cannot tell them apart. What use is his skill in knowing blood when they both have the same damn blood running through their veins? What bond is there to sense when they are tied so tightly together, Ares can scarcely tell brother from sister?

He sighs. Unadorned and completely alone, the only way to know who is who is to speak to them. He'll have to find more ways to tell them apart from a distance. Surely they cannot stay this similar all the rest of their immortal lives.

[abernathyvalois]

being 14 is the closest to god you’ll ever feel

[funkyplantguy]

established relationship scarian where scar finds A Creature of some sort (dealer's choice) and starts in on the whole "Can we keep it?? 🥺🥺" routine to grian

i was originally going to go with a cat, then a baby warden (listen idk) then an ACTUAL baby...then landed on this (and giggled and kicked my feet the entire time as i wrote it). hope you enjoy :D

scar: g scar: grain scar: grian scar: light of my life scar: where are you? scar: i have gift grian: fishing dock scar: shoulda guessed scar: be there soon <3

grian stretched, quietly groaning to himself as his back (and wings) crackled in delight at the movement, tired of the endless hunching they’d endured over the past several hours. a gift from scar (especially an unexpected one) was sure to be…interesting. they’d been together long enough that scar knew what grian liked, of course…but sometimes…the “gifts” his partner would bring him would be more for scar’s own personal amusement than anything else.

not that he really minded, of course. not when that meant getting to see scar light up like a kid on christmas. scar was always so full of life - always giggling over something or other - and it just reminded grian of why he’d fallen in love with him in the first place. and honestly, that was gift enough for him.

despite all of that, he wasn’t quite expecting scar to bring him something...alive.

grian heard the chirping from the small bundle in scar’s arms before the man had even landed, and couldn’t help the inquisitive trill that forced its way out of him in response. and that, of course, set scar off - mimicking the noise with his own (very human) vocal cords (which only served to produce a melody akin to being strangled). he stared at grian with wide eyes as he touched down, and grian felt his cheeks burn under his gaze.

“g! i’ve never heard you make that noise before - that was so cute, do it again!”

“no,” grian chirped back, then pressed his hand against his mouth as scar laughed in delight. “scar - what is that?”

“it’s a baby!” scar responded, moving closer and tilting the bundle in his arms towards the avian. “look - it’s a little you!”

grian uncovered his mouth to retort - he very much doubted that scar had somehow found a baby avian wandering around hermitcraft - but another quiet chirp caught his attention, and he found himself leaning forward to peer over scar’s arms. and there, nestled in a pile of soft, brown blanket, was the ugliest baby parrot grian had ever seen in his life. and yet..and yet…

grian didn’t even realize that he was whistling until the baby returned his birdsong, eager little chirps and gurgles spilling out of its little fleshy beak. it tilted its head up at grian, blinking, and grian offered up a trembling finger into the makeshift nest. the chick nuzzled against it, purring softly, and something in grian’s heart felt like it might burst. he raised his face to his partner, and found scar’s gaze transfixed - but not on the parrot in his arms, but him. their eyes locked, and scar offered him a smile - something soft and warm, something that made grian want to kiss him more than anything in the world.

“can we keep it?” he whispered, and grian let out a short (wet) laugh.

“i…scar, where…where did you even find it? it’s so little…i can’t imagine its mama would have been far; she’s probably worried sick…do you really want to take the little guy from his mama?”

scar’s lower lip wobbled (and grian felt like he might be the worst person in the entire world for it).

“he didn’t have a mama! i sat and watched and waited for hours, gri, and nobody came for him…he was just all alone, on a branch in the jungle, and i got worried that something was going to come along and eat him! and…well…i figured you’d know how to take care of him. given that you’re…y’know.”

he gestured toward grian’s colorful wings with one hand, and grian’s feathers rippled obediently in show for his lover. from scar’s arms, the tiny bird chirped again, raising its little head and struggling to flap its wings in the same way grian had fluttered his. scar looked down to the parrot, then up to grian, eyes wide and sparkling as he jutted out his lower lip.

“see! he agrees! he wants you to be his new mama!”

(and if grian’s heart fluttered in his chest at the suggestion of being a mother, that was no one's business but his own. that was a topic to be discussed later - much later, in the warmth of each other’s arms and the shield the darkness their room offered for grian's vulnerability)

“we could name him…um…jeffrey!”

“scar - we are not naming our son jeffrey.”

“our son???!??” scar parroted back, jerking his head up from where he had dipped it to stare down at the chick in his arms. “our son??? so…we can keep him? really? you mean it?”

“yes, scar. i mean it,” grian responded, smiling softly at the hopeful peep from the newest member of their little family. “we can keep him.”

(and the way scar pulled him into a kiss, then, was the greatest gift of all)

[cleo-serotonin]

im on the floor sobbing

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Cas stitching up his trench coat in one of the motel chairs while Sam and Dean are asleep and quietly talking to Jack about how to him the coat feels as part of himself now as his blade is. That it reminds him that he wasn't always aware of just how deeply humans could feel. How deeply angels could feel. How putting care into something can make it meaningful. The stars were mere pricks of light before humans decided to name them. The more he cares for his coat, the more of his perspective and memory gets sewn into it. The more it becomes his.

"And the pockets," he confides with a deep wink, "Are good for keeping snacks in."

Later, when Dean is asleep again, drooling over an open book of research in the bunker, Jack watches as Cas tucks his coat over Dean's shoulders and sees how he hesitates for a moment before brushing his hand softly through Dean's hair. Dean is transformed, through Cas’s careful attention, from the man who was the gatekeeper of acceptance and goodness to just a man, vulnerable and in need of care.

Jack wonders whether Castiel cares for everyone like they are a precious object. And he wonders what Castiel would transform him into, if he had to be repaired. Jack isn't sure that he likes the idea. He already has a hard time understanding his own morality, how can he also be expected live up to the idea of himself in Castiel's head? The object that Castiel loves? Does he need to be changed in order to become his?

"I could get him my pillow?" Jack suggests, swallowing against the cold mass in his throat when Cas smiles gently at that. He does like it, then, when Jack acts against his own interest.

"That might wake him. We should let him rest."

"He's precious to you."

"He is." Castiel reaches out and puts a hand on Jack's sleeve, expression sincere, "And so are you."

"Right," Jack says, then, "thanks," and holds his smile until Cas wanders back to sit perpendicular to Dean, to watch him until just before he stirred. Castiel and Jack, both, were good at pretending not to feel what they felt.

Watching the angel watch the man, Jack feels like a star. Immense and powerful but also distant, removed. Not special until a real person decides that he is. He is between angel and human. Person and object. Precious and disregarded. He is the blade and the coat, and Jack doesn't know which is worse.

[scrimblyscrorblo]

The Guild’s tallest and even slightly creepy members

[mikakuna]

Some of your posts with robin Jason and Bruce makes me wonder what would have happened if Bruce found Jay if he was younger. What if he found a terrified five year old crying because he was scared and Bruce decided to take him in. Sometimes I wish that's what happened so that Jason would be spared the title of Robin and have the life he deserved.

omg i'm so sorry for replying to this so late!!! BUT YES i absolutely love this idea!

bruce finding a little tiny five year old underneath the batmobile, crying and shaking because he was hiding from a group of scary men. for this au, jason's parents would be gone by now and he'd be homeless younger.

bruce's heartstrings tug at the sight of such a small, malnourished child looking visibly dirty and exhausted. jason, being younger and more trusting/innocent, immediately latches onto batman when the man offers to help. just happily sits on his lap when bruce takes them to a restaurant to eat, stuffing his little cheeks with food and chattering bruce's ears off. bruce doesn't mind though because he knows jason hasn't had anyone to talk to in a while (plus this kid is beyond adorable...)

anyways, cue a soft-looking bruce walking into the manor with a giggly, smiley little boy in his arms. alfred is baffled (he didn't think bruce patrolling on his parents' death anniversary would result in the adoption of a literal child). meanwhile dick is having the best time giving jason all his old toys and clothes, not knowing that he's just signed himself up for a lifetime of jason trailing after him like a duckling.

also here are a few fics i read with a similar premise of bruce finding a younger jason:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30752189

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55045105

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53261485

[dimdiamond]

Started watching The Fairly Oddparents: New Wish and I gotta say I am so impressed by how good it is for a sequel of such beloved childhood cartoon series! Besides the animation and the humour and watching again Cosmo and Wanda, I must say that Hazel is the best choice for a new protagonist as she has no similarities with Timmy and that's what makes for a new, refreshing continuation of the same cartoon!

I saw arguments that Hazel doesn't actually need fairly godparents because she has good parents and I can't emphasize enough how wrong that is and how much she actually does! Yes, her parents care for her and notice her and dote on her and they have a pretty good relationship with their kids but we see since the first episode how Hazel is considered the mature kid from her parents and she takes pride on that. So much to the point of bottling up her emotions and trying to solve things by her own! Even in a later episode she considers herself too mature for her classmates and thinks it's better for her to hang out with her teachers (great episode btw)! I know many kids are like that (heck! I was one like that!) and let me tell you they need the same care and attention as the "immature" kids, the loud ones, the ones with obvious problems, the neglected ones etc. Hazel needs Cosmo and Wanda to learn to rely on others and state clearly her wishes and her emotions! She needs to learn to be a "bother" and "immature" so she can become a better person and with healthier connections to her family and friends! Cosmo and Wanda saw this little girl trying to run away and fix her problem by herself and they were immediately like "Oh, no sweetie, we are here to help you, you're not alone!" and I think this is so imprortant and meaningful for many kids that they will watch it!

I haven't still watched the episodes with Peri and Dev but god I am excited and from the few clips I have watched I can tell their dynamic would be so fun and interesting to watch and for sure I am excited for the humanization of the "spoiled, rich, rude kid" stereotype! Probably I'll add my thoughts on them once I watch the episodes!

[layraket]

little practice with this coloring style to see if i can use it for fast doodles

also we got how did look CG!Time during his adventure! he was such a cute puppy

this helped me with working on how was his past and relationships around the gang

Individual drawings ↓↓↓