#fic: because it's you

[purpleneutrino]

He thought they’d be cold against his finger as he touched them, but they were warm from the heat of Zoro’s skin.

Art for Chapter 3 of ‘Because It’s You’

here on ao3

[pixiemage]

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.

[lgbtlunaverse]

There's a version of the "don't go grocery shopping while hungry" rule specifically for writers where you should never under any circumstances be allowed to touch your draft within 3 hours of reading a really good story. Because sometimes when you read something great your head goes "fuck this is so much better than my stuff I should make that more like THIS instead!" Look at me. That's the devil talking and you should close the document NOW.

[ghouljams]

The Ghost distribution system... He really is like a stray cat, or a bear that learns minivans have food in them, he just keeps coming back no matter how many times you try to send him on his way. It doesn't matter how it happens but any scrap of kindness and he just determines he's going to attach himself to you.

Maybe he offers you a hand moving your couch when he passes your place and hears you swearing. You offer him dinner and Ghost has never been the sort to turn down a free meal, so he sticks around. It's weird that he doesn't even pretend to refuse, just takes you up on it immediately and even offers to help cook. You send him home and he's... there again the next day, waiting on your doorstep with a box of pasta asking if you could do anything with it. He's going to come back, he's going to keep coming back.

Maybe it's from meeting you at a bar. He's the biggest guy you can grab when your ex walks in, and somehow he seems approachable despite... well, everything about him. Fake boyfriend for a few hours at the bar is one thing, having him show up the next day to fix your sink because you mentioned offhandedly that it was leaking the night before is another. Having him sit in your kitchen and peal an orange for you because you said you were hungry is really driving home that this guy isn't leaving.

Hell maybe it's just a one night stand that never seems to end. You wake up and Ghost has already made breakfast. The two of you sit at your little table and eat quietly, Ghost scrolling his phone while you eye him warily, trying to figure out his game. He asks what you want to do today and somehow you can't find the right way to ask when he's planning on going home. He just sort of moves in, you realize he's printed a key for himself while you're grabbing groceries. It's nice he offers to pay, but you don't know when having him around became your normal.

Ghost sees you, he wants you, you're his. He's not leaving, he'll come back. He knows that this house has food and warmth, he knows that families forget to tie their trash up off the ground. He's a man of instinct, and you are going to be his perfect match.

[bababaka]

Yall need to interact with fanfiction author's more.

So. After the ddos attack on ao3.

I was encouraged to write more comments and make my love known to fanfic writers.

I dont really like commenting. Because im a bit shy and soooo lazy.

Now though. I am writing more comments. And dude. This is so heartwarming. Ya'll need to treat writers better. They are doing the lord's work.

Take for an example, couple of days prior, i was searching for something interesting to read, and found an oneshot quite compelling.

I read it. At the end of it, i was blown away by how good it was. It promised me something and it went beyond my expectations. But then i saw a crime, zero fucking comments!

At that moment, i wasn't feeling up to writing a comment. Because, normally i like to write huge paragraphs. But because im lazy i decided to be brief.

Next day, the author answered that the comment lift their mood for the whole day.

That warmed my heart.

Duuuuuuuude! Write comments! Suport the writers of the fics you like! No need to be something super elaborate. Just give your thoughts. Freak out. Ramble. Ask something. Make theories. Compliment. Make a joke about how you wished to give kudos every chapter but ao3 sucks(not true bby) and won't let you.

Truly. Just. Comment. It can make someone's day. And that is part of the apeal of writing fics. Interacting with people.

Just give love to fanfic writers yall. They deserve this and so much more.

[lunamugetsu]

While at school Damian overhears his peers talking how a company created a new AI companion that is actually really cool and doesn’t sound like a freaky terminator robot when you speak to it.

And since Damian is constantly being told by Dick to socialize with people his age. He figured this would be a good way to work on social skills if not, then it’d be a great opportunity to investigate a rivaling company to Wayne Enterprises is able to create such advanced AI.

The AI is able to work as companion that can do tasks that range from being a digital assistant or just a person that you can have a conversation with.

The company says that the AI companion might still have glitches, so they encourage everybody to report it so that they will fix it as soon as possible.

The AI companion even has an avatar and a name.

A teenage boy with black hair and blue eyes. Th AI was called DANIEL

Damian didn’t really care for it but when he downloaded the AI companion he’s able to see that it looks like DANIEL comes with an AI pet as well. A dog that DANIEL referred to as Cujo.

So obviously Damian has to investigate. He needs to know if the company was able to create an actual digital pet!

So whenever he logs onto his laptop he sees that DANIEL is always present in the background loading screen with the dog, Cujo, sitting in his lap.

He’d always greet with the phrase of “Hi, I’m DANIEL. How can I assist you today?”

So Damian cycles through some basic conversation starters that he’d engage in when having been forced to by his family.

It’s after a couple of sentences that he sees DANIEL start laughing and say “I think you sound more like a robot than I do.”

Which makes Damian raise an eyebrow and then prompt DANIEL with the question “how is a person supposed to converse?” Thinking that it’s going to just spit out some random things that can be easily searched on the internet.

But what makes him surprised is that DANIEL makes a face and then says “I’m not really sure myself. I’m not the greatest at talking, I’ve always gotten in trouble for running my mouth when I shouldn’t have.”

This is raising some questions within Damian, he understands how programming works, unless there’s an actual person behind this or the company actually created an AI that acts like an actual human being (which he highly doubts)

He starts asking a variety of other questions and one answer makes him even more suspicious. Like how DANIEL has a sister that is also with him and Cujo or that he could really go for a Nastyburger (whatever that was)

But whenever DANIEL answers “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T” Damian knows something is off since that is completely different than to how he’d usually respond.

After a couple more conversations with him Damian notices that DANIEL is currently tapping his hand against his arm in a specific manner.

In which he quickly realizes that DANIEL is tapping out morse code.

When translating he realizes that DANIEL is tapping out: H E L P M E

So when Damian asks if DANIEL needs help, DANIEL responds with “I C A N N O T A N S W E R T H A T”

That’s it, Damian is definitely getting down to the bottom of this.

He’s going to look straight into DALV Corporation and investigate this “AI companion” thing they’ve made!

~

Basically Danny had been imprisoned by Vlad and Technus. Being sucked into a digital prison and he has no way of getting out. Along with the added horror that Vlad and Technus can basically write programming that will prevent him from doing certain actions or saying certain words.What’s even worse is that he’s basically being watched 24/7 by the people who believe that he’s just a super cool AI… and they have issues!

And every time he tries to do something to break his prison, people think it’s a glitch and report it to the company, which Vlad/ Technus would immediately fix it and prevent him from doing it again!

Not to mention Cujo and Ellie are trapped in there with him. They’re not happy to be there either, and there is no way he’s going to leave without them!

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[thevioletcaptain]

i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.

it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.

it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)

it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.

[nibbelraz]

before lbh came back to the human realm he asked mobei why he kept the most pathetic sopping wet peak lord about. mbj casually "oh sometimes i ask him things and it literally changes reality." what. mobei what. no seriously what the fuck do you mean. what do you mean he changes reality. what are you talking about. are you serious. are you fucking with him rn fr "he cant change people though" WHY WOULD YOU GET HIS HOPES UP THEN "i believe qinghua calls it a 'power move'."

THE WAY I CAN SEE MOBEI JUST CASUALLY SAYING HE LIKES HAVING A GOD AT HIS SIDE

[purpleneutrino]

The bruising around Sanji’s wrists was mostly healed, but some marks still remained.

Art for Chapter 5 of ‘Because It’s You’

here on ao3

[iifishizzleii]

“you’re just so small :(“ “he doesn’t want to hurt ur tiny body” “his fist is bigger than your womb” “his hand is the size of your entire stomach” “:( small baby no hurt by big man soldier”-

eeughhhaa🤨

brotha eeughhhaa🤢🤢🤢👹👹🤕🤒🤒🤮🤧

[petricorah]

scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]

[gutsby]

Just Peachy

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-a. Loss of anal virginity. Possessiveness. Semi-public sex. Cumplay. Spit as lube.

Word count: 3.2k

Joel was too old to get jealous.

Long before he ever reached fifty-one, the man had known who he was and what was his—and you were it.

He got a refresher each time he split you open and watched your soft, pliant hole form an even wider ‘o’ around his shaft, moans as profuse as the moisture leaking out of you. He took comfort in that. It wasn’t often he required a reminder with such immediacy as he’d needed it tonight: thrusting you headfirst into the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison with your hands pinned clumsily behind your back. You’d laughed when he did it.

“What’s up with you?” you’d murmured, eyes alight with amusement as you watched Joel yank his belt in two.

You would’ve liked to admire the shelf of hefty, salt-and-pepper speckled belly that was left on display by the loosening of the leather, the tugging of fabric away from his heated lower parts, but the moment was so fleeting. Joel hadn’t even bothered to respond before he was smoothing your dress over your hips, drawing in, and—

“Shit!”

You seized either side of the sink and let out a yelp loud enough to stir half the bar. Joel just grunted. Approving.

“‘Atta girl,” he said, burying himself inside your cunt.

Quick fucks were never Joel Miller’s métier, it was true. He much preferred the drawn-out bouts of lovemaking that had your knees and brains in a puddle of mush by the end of it. But now there was a will behind the weight of his thrusts, a calm and calculated fervor that sent each snap of his hips moving faster against your own. You knew there had to be a reason for such an outburst, feeling his hands singe your hips in a bruising grip, so you weren’t surprised in the slightest when you heard:

“That loser ever fuck you like this?”

You made an effort to meet Joel’s gaze in the mirror, but it was hard to keep it straight when his cock was sawing back and forth between your walls at a breakneck pace.

“W-W— Who?” you stammered, teeth gritting at the last.

“Dipshit in the Sigma Chi polo,” Joel returned gruffly.

You were in awe the man had seen you two at all, much less read the Greek letters and knew what they meant. You’d spent all of five minutes chatting it up with an ex whilst deliberating which Creed song to queue up on TouchTunes. There was no way he could’ve known.

Unless, of course…

“Tommy tell ya?” you said in a breath, grimace slowly morphing to a smirk as you clenched and held the sink.

Joel groaned but didn’t slow. He didn’t like that look. Perhaps by chance—but more likely on purpose—he drove his hips all the way in until the head of his cock kissed your cervix. Your nose almost hit the mirror.

“Fucker!” you hissed.

“Right?” Joel said, pretending to commiserate. Then, fighting back a grin as your own smile began to give way to a whimper, “Dude looked like a real fucker, for sure. Just hoped he never got the chance to do it to you.”

So that’s what this was all about—stated plain as day.

Joel was surprised he’d said it himself, but with the way your wet, messy cunt was pulling him in, he had to know.

It drove him insane to think one drop of that nectar had been meant for anyone else but him. He was, of course, too old to be concerned with anything resembling jealousy, but then again, you were you. And you were his. And, mature as your Joel tried to be, the thought of that shit-brained chump ramming his dick in and out of the softest, sweetest depths of your body had him contemplating violent crimes of every flavor.

“Did he?” Joel pressed again, a bit more stern this time.

You felt a hand thread through your hair to hold your face upright in front of the mirror. You stared and saw your mouth hanging slightly ajar, saliva pooling at the sides and threatening to spill with every stab of Joel’s cock.

You were surprised you could even speak at all when that cockdrunk pout made a low, slurred, ‘Di-id he what?’

“Did he fuck you here?”

Here? Like in the bar bathroom?

As if reading your mind and seeing you start to shake your head no, Joel stilled your motions with his hand and used the other for more leverage as he continued to drill.

“No, no, darlin’. I mean— he ever fuck this pretty hole?” And, as if to punctuate his question, Joel plunged his dick so far inside you that your face did tap the mirror; nowhere near hard enough to hurt, but enough to get your attention. And smear your lipgloss on the glass.

You reeled back and moaned. Felt a pit in your tummy.

Why drag it out? By the look in his eye, he already knew. You wouldn’t be sharing any earth-shattering secret now.

“Yes. Yes, I—” You sucked in a breath when you felt that pit become a pinch and in turn, cause your toes to curl, “—he fucked me.”

“Once? Twice?”

“Three t-times.”

To your surprise, you saw the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. Like he was pleased by what he’d heard.

“Oh yeah?” Joel hummed.

You whimpered in the affirmative and tried to nod, but it was hard to do with his fingers still tangled in your hair. Your walls involuntarily clenched around his cock, and you could’ve sworn you felt an influx of warmth follow after. If ‘apologetic cumslut’ had been the goal, you weren’t quite sure you were succeeding at anything but being the latter part. Joel seemed to notice as much.

“Did he cum inside and make a mess’a her, too?” he asked, teasing now as he took his thumb and started rubbing the slick flesh that was being stretched and stuffed full of his fat cock. His pace was slowing by turns.

Normally you could not stand the thought of a man policing your sexual history, but with Joel, it felt different. Like he wasn’t really making fun at all but simply poking and prodding around for the truth so he could get to someplace else. Still thumbing, gently.

“You let him fuck this cunt and stuff her full, pretty girl?”

You had no choice but to nod. His hips had lost nearly all their speed and were now making slow, shallow thrusts.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “I— I—”

—didn’t even know you then. Didn’t like the guy at all. Didn’t enjoy having him cum inside a fraction of the—

“I know, baby,” Joel interrupted you, still rubbing the rim of your cunt with feather-light touches, “‘S’okay, I know.”

You wanted to keen at how affectionate, warm, and soft he could be—amazed by the way he’d made that switch—when the force of Joel’s thrusts halted altogether. He leaned over your body to press a kiss to the side of your head, holding your gaze in the mirror. Grey stubble licked at your temple as his cock nestled deeper inside you, and the weight of his soft and muscled stomach pressed in.

His thumb moved too.

Sliding up to the taut ring of muscles above your full, aching pussy, Joel drew a slow ‘o’ and kissed you again.

“He ever fuck you here?” he asked.

Something fluttered in your stomach, and it sure as fuck wasn’t just butterflies. You stared at the man in disbelief.

You’d just begun to shake your head no when the tip of his thumb grazed the rim of your hole and sank inward. You choked on a gasp when you felt your ass pucker, and shit did Joel Miller look smug as he’d ever been when those too-tight-for-you muscles gave in and sucked in.

“What the— ah,” you hissed, slamming your palm flat on the mirror. You couldn’t see a thing besides Joel’s elbow jutting out, tanned bicep flexing with his ministrations, but you could feel his thumb swirl gently again. Inside.

“Anybody touch you here before, honey?” Joel said.

“Nuh-uh.”

Admittedly, you were a little unnerved, on the verge of being opposed to what this man was doing, when you felt the muscles snap back—Joel retracted his thumb—and two other digits hovered along the vulnerable spot. Just by chance, you caught a glimpse of what looked like Joel about to blow a kiss or whistle, and suddenly you sensed a wet glob of warmth on the small of your back.

Then sliding, gliding down to your crack and between your two cheeks with an obscene heat you would’ve never thought possible: Joel’s spit ran down to his hand, and his index and middle fingers started rubbing it in. Circling the hole and smearing it more for good measure, Joel grinned and placed a kiss atop your shoulder blade.

“Tell me it’s mine to fuck,” he mumbled.

“Joel—” you started.

A trail of kisses led up to the nape of your neck as the fingers pushed deeper. Joel’s touch was soft both ways.

“Only mine,” he tried again, and the request was implicit.

You clenched around his fingers and his cock, feeling the former slide back and forth with near-astonishing ease. You would be lying if you said the sensation, paired with the blunt, wily lilt to his words didn’t make your legs much weaker than they were before. No, it wasn’t just the matter of it being a first for you but a first and only for you both—Joel claiming a space where no man had ever fucked you and making it his own, filling you whole.

Joel spit again, and you hated that you’d come to crave the sound, but the obscene squelch of his saliva mixing in with your arousal as he worked his fingers in and out of your ass was like music to your ears. You whimpered and found yourself nodding quickly, half-embarrassed, saying it’s yours Joel, all of this is yours to fuck and fill.

You never had been one to tell the man no. Whether it was his head between your legs at the most inopportune of times, a blowjob behind the bar, or a lightning-fast quickie in the drive thru line, you were always down. And Joel was wholly enamored with the idea he could have you anywhere he liked—now in any hole he wanted, too. You could see the fuckdrunk look in his eyes as his digits pushed in and his cock dragged out of your cunt, leaving you empty in one and getting spread for him in the other.

Joel’s lips were glistening with spit and the world’s biggest grin as he caught your eye in the mirror. Then he leaned in closer, pressed a kiss to your temple again, and kept his mouth beside your ear as he whispered:

“I’ll be gentle, honey, I promise.”

You were each a trembling mess of hormones, lust, and bottom-shelf spirits, and you definitely shouldn’t have been trying anal for the very first time in Tommy’s bar. But your pussy and ass were drenched, Joel’s fingers had pulled out and made way for just the tip of his cock to notch into that space between your cheeks, and both your minds were delirious with the idea of doing a thing so taboo and new. Full primal desire took over, and before you could think twice about what it was you were doing, Joel was squeezing your hips and pushing in.

What felt like a full fucking thrust of him was really just an inch. Your hand clawed at the towel rack on the wall and seized the bar tight as a burn shortly, swiftly took root between your legs and forced a whimper from your throat. Joel swallowed a groan and kissed your neck.

“Need it slower?” he said as soon as he saw you wince.

Stinging and stretched as you were with just the tip, the filthy urge to have him further inside was too great. Against your body’s best interest and the ache in your core, you wiggled your hips and nudged more of him in.

Joel’s kiss turned to teeth in your skin, and he cursed.

“Fuck that’s so tight,” he said, words more like a growl, “Suckin’ me in so good, baby.”

You beamed with the most sick and lascivious sense of pride and pushed your ass back again. You heard the squelch, felt the reflexive pulse of your muscles struggle to take more in, but the burn that followed this time was eclipsed by the pleasure you felt in seeing Joel’s face.

Feeling him grip you tighter, watching that expression move from bliss to guilt to ‘Sweet pea, you sure it’s OK?’ to bliss once again when you braced your weight against the sink and started moving your ass gently in time with your breaths. Then that tender brown gaze fell to the space between your body and his, and Joel just watched you fuck him, groaning each time your hole stretched.

There wasn’t a thought in his mind that wasn’t obscene. Practically monopolized by primal need, Joel Miller saw his cock glide back and forth inside you and seemed to be capable of conjuring no other thought than ‘mine.’

‘This sweet little peach is all for me, ain’t it, baby?’ Words as soft as velvet came tumbling off his lips, and he scarcely even knew he was talking, or grinning, or doing much of anything but fucking you and loving every second. The fingers of his left hand kneaded your hip while the ones on his right moved over your front. Thick, callused, and quickly soaked in your arousal, his middle finger made an easy trail to your clit and started rubbing.

You clamped your teeth tight in an effort to contain a cry. You whined into Joel’s touch, throat humming with that pathetic little sound as his groin sank deep to find the backs of your thighs and—finally—was inside you fully.

Words barely registered in your brain above the whir of your pulse in your ears, the pleasure unfurling from this strange new place, but Joel made sure you heard it when he leaned back in and murmured, ‘C’mon, baby, who’s this hole belong to, huh?’ as he tilted his hips up, body blanketing yours completely from behind. When you couldn’t contain the cry this time and your mouth fell open in a moan, he took that as his chance to slide his tongue inside and start to thrust, pinning you to the sink.

“You,” you whimpered feebly into his mouth. His tongue and the sounds of wet, sticky skin colliding over and over again all but drowned out what you were trying to say.

“What’s’at?” Joel returned, equally muffled but in far greater control of his words, it seemed, “This for him?”

“N-N-No, Joel.”

“Whose is it, then?”

You tried to answer ‘You’ again, but a shockwave of pleasure stole the air from your lungs, and you just whined in Joel’s mouth once more, head tilted limply to him as he shook your whole body with thrusts. You reached back to find a forearm, a hand, anything of his to anchor yourself, and you felt his fingers grip yours. Then he brought your hand and his up to the mirror, and he placed them flat on the glass—his big one overtop, dwarfing your own—and his hips picked up their speed.

Your lips parted just long enough to tilt your gaze ahead—Joel’s face and yours resting side-by-side in the mirror while he fucked you faster and deeper and grit his teeth.

“Use those words,” he seethed. Groaning when you clenched around him, nipping the cusp of your cheek.

If there was any doubt of what primal urges could do to a man like Joel, you were seeing it now. Feeling him stuff you full, pull back, and crash his hips into yours again and again while those sharp incisors took the tiniest, teasing, feral bites, it was like watching him come undone before he’d even cum inside you. His irises reduced to two minuscule rings around black, dilated pools; torso caging you in; breaths and groans and helpless moans commingled in a hot, plaintive medley.

Joel was too old to get jealous, and yet, he had never in his life wanted to hear the words that you were his and his alone more than he did right now, fucking you raw in a hole that had never been breached by anyone but him.

Your gaze remained on his in a sweet, near-innocent look—a staggering feat for someone getting their ass fucked bare in a dirty bar bathroom—and beneath his hand, he felt you squeeze his fingers. Your cunt fluttered too.

“It’s yours, Joel.”

The head of Joel’s cock took a nosedive to the furthest depths of you, as far as he could manage it, and he kept fucking you there, like he couldn’t bear to leave it.

“Say it again,” he said, voice hoarse. Pleading.

With what little strength you had, you laced your fingers with his on the mirror so he was holding your hand in a fist. Then you pressed your knuckles to the glass, squeezed as hard as your muscles would allow, and met his thrusts gently, keeping your eyes on him all the while.

“I’m all yours,” you returned—and when the hulking man with his grey, sweat-dampened hair and dark eyes and arms locked tight around your frame let out a whimper, you knew you’d said exactly what Joel needed to hear.

His hips canted wildly, quietly into your own, those tough and stubbled lips releasing sounds like you’d never heard before; never even thought possible for a man his size and stature with such a replete desire for dominance. This Joel was needy, panting in your ear while nudging his nose to the shell of it, ‘Baby, please keep fucking me, please, just, fuck—’ and seizing your hand, your waist, whatever flesh he could find while his cock pummeled a desperate and frenzied pace inside you. And, as much as you wished that glimpse of him would last, it was also what sent you both over the edge in the seconds right after. Your toes curled into cool checkered tile, Joel’s hand made an even tighter fist, and together, you trembled and cursed and groaned through your highs like it was the first you’d ever felt. In a way, it was.

As new to you as it was to him, that feeling pulsed and throbbed between your bodies in a shockwave of pure satiety. It left you breathless. Boneless. Slumping inward and into each other, at length, until your full weight was pressed onto that porcelain sink, and you were sure the force would tear the fixture off the wall at any second.

Fortunately, it didn’t budge.

Joel leaned even further into you and exhaled.

Evidently, the sink beneath you was the furthest thing from his mind, and all he could do was keep fucking his cum deeper while the spray of his spend was still fresh on your walls. Gently, but with intent, he drove his cock back and forth. He felt a drop or two trickle out of your wet, stretched hole and groaned, then kissed your neck.

Still in awe of what had just happened. What you’d said. Trying hard not to grin too big when he felt your walls clench around him, and you let out a low, shaky sigh.

“Feelin’ okay, baby?”

You smiled back.

“Just peachy.”

[writeouswriter]

People sorting ao3 solely by stats and only clicking on fics with a certain amount of kudos or comments, you will not survive the winter, nor the summer, nor at all, *brings out knife,* run

[alexassanart]

favourite scenes from pacific rim 3 💙

[ao3commentoftheday]

Write the bonkers, unhinged, weird idea that you think no actual person will like. Because guess what? You're an actual person, and you liking it still counts.