#but i HAD to write this

[kibblz-n-bitz]

Tied Up

Summary: Zoro gives you devious backshots

Warnings: Dom Zoro, Mean Zoro, But he checks up on you afterwards, (because he's a true softie at heart), Edging, Restraints, a bit of mind break, rough sex

Words: 841

You yelp as you feel his rough palm collide with your ass.

"Go on," Zoro lands another hit, "Show me how badly you want my cock."

A sob erupts from your mouth as you shift on your knees clumsily, trying desperately to fuck yourself back on Zoro's thick length. It's sloppy and uncoordinated, it's hard to find a rhythm with your hands tied behind your back. You end up cockwarming him, his cock twitching and leaking precum against your walls. You whimper, "Z-Zoro-hh"

Another smack! "Try again."

"Daddy," You warble, desperate to cum. "Please... haah-... please fuck me Daddy please." You squirm against your restraints, against the rope tied around your wrists.

Zoro chuckles darkly at the sight of you. You look pathetic. Moaning and writhing on his cock, your pussy fluttering around his length. He's decided he's teased you long enough, if his leaking cock had anything to say about it. He was just as desperate to cum as you were. It's just... he loved the way you looked when you were fucked stupid, begging for his cum.

Zoro clicks his tongue. "Poor thing..." He sighs mockingly. He reaches down to brush your hair out of your face. You sniffle and look back at him, teary eyed. "You want daddy's cock that badly, huh?"

Whining, you nod, your words failing you. The swordsman had brought you to the brink of orgasm only to pull out and leave you a sobbing mess, repeating the process multiple times. Your brain was fried, only able to babble nonsense or beg for Zoro to have mercy on you. Especially now, with your wrists tied together, you were helpless.

Zoro shushes you, running a hand along your backside soothingly. Surprisingly kind despite nature of your actions. It doesn't last long though, not when he grabs you from where your hands are tied together, pulling you back on his length. You moan like a bitch in heat.

The swordsman wears a wolfish grin as he starts fucking you. Your mind goes blank and your eyes roll back into your head, you're finally being fucked the way you want. The tip of Zoro's cock hits the deepest parts of you, kissing your cervix each time he bottoms out.

"Filthy fuckin' whore." Zoro grunts, huskiness in his voicr giving away the amount of pleasure he was feeling too. "Y're so desperate. Betcha love getting fucked stupid on my cock, huh?"

You twitch in oversensitivity as he knocks your g spot with each thrust. Squirming, you try and lean away from the overwhelming pressure. Zoro growls at that, giving you a harsh tug on your restraints at the same time as he lands a particularly harsh thrust. You cry out, pussy clenching down on his cock.

"Quit runnin'." Zoro grunts. He lands another swat at your ass. "You asked for it, so fuckin' take it."

And take it, you do. You could feel your climax approaching as quickly as it faded last time. And, judging by the way he switched from quick, shallow thrusts to long, deeper ones- you were sure Zoro knew it too. Your pussy fluttered, clenching and squeezing around his cock, you were fit to burst.

Leaning down to nip at your ear, Zoro rumbles. "Y'gonna cum?" You sob, nodding and drooling against your pillow. His earrings clink together as he fucks into you. "So pathetic. You can go ahead, but I'm not stopping."

Zoro's rough words combined with the barely-there stimulation of his balls hitting your pussy have you screaming, your legs kicking out underneath you. Zoro groans as your pussy tightens, squeezes, and then gushes around his cock. However he stays true to his word and fucks you through it, barely giving you time to come down from your state of euphoria. "Fuck... That's it- hnnh"

You're whining as you tremble in overstimulation, pussy quivering. The added wetness from your orgasm drips against your sheets. Your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath. Drool drips from your mouth onto your pillow. Your eyes are hazy, unfocused; mind blissfully blank.

Your world shifts and suddenly your flipped onto your back, hands free and legs wrapped around the man above you. He kisses you deeply, passionately, but you're clumsy in reciprocating the act. He pulls back as he rubs his angry red tip through your soaked folds.

"Checking in." He brings a hand to your face, tilting our head up. You look him in the eyes. "You okay?"

You stretch your arms, and nod, bringing them up to wrap around his neck. With a pleased sigh you kiss at his face, and he chuckles. A pleased grumble vibrates from his chest. "Good." He kisses your face again. "Such a good slut for me."

With that, he pushes his fat cock into you again, wasting no time in resuming his earlier pace. He nips and sucks at your throat. You moan and tug at his hair, overwhelming pleasure and warmth coursing through your veins.

"Take it like the good little slut you are, yeah?"

[henryspearl]

we will be remembered (6.1k words)

One night out in New York, Henry's tequila induced brain decides to inform Alex that during his last Facetime call with Bea, she told him that as royals, they would be guaranteed VIP tickets for Taylor Swift's Eras Tour. Alex leaps at the chance, insisting that they have to attend, and who is the inner Swiftie fan in Henry to tell him otherwise.

or join Alex, Henry, Bea, June, Nora and Pez as they attend the Eras tour.

big thanks to @onthewaytosomewhere for beta’ing this fic for me and reading through it for me with literally less than 24 hours notice!!🫶

[bcdrawsandwrites]

So uh, no cover for this yet, but I wrote this an age ago and figured now was a good time to post it.

Bindle

Fandom: Inanimate Insanity Rating: K Genre: Angst Characters: Toilet (plus references to other characters like MePhone and MePad) Fic Description: Mister Phone had told him to leave, so it was time to go. Beta Readers: @jaywings and @mephoj Notes: I know the subtitles spell it "Mistah Phone," but since he's being referred to just in prose here and not in dialogue (with Toilet's accent), it's just "Mister Phone."

---~~~---

He didn't much remember what he'd packed.

Everything had happened so fast, and he could hardly think past the burning and dizziness in his tank as he hopped away to gather what little he had. The only thing to bring him out of his haze was the sudden spike of frustration at how hard it was to tie a knot without hands, especially when he wasn't focused.

Toilet found himself biting down on one corner of the red handkerchief, trying to tug at the knot with his invisible grip. It wasn't a very good knot and Mister Phone wouldn't have been terribly happy with that kind of shoddy work but he managed to secure it to the stick he'd apparently found. The bindle was not a big one, but he slung it behind his tank nonetheless.

Mister Phone had told him to leave, so it was time to go.

While his earlier actions had been performed in a furious, tear-blurred haze, he hopped through the contestant grounds with a great deal more slowness, thumping against the soft grass and feeling heavier with each step. After a moment he paused, turning around to take in the view.

By now, the area was cast in soft moonlight, and it was hard to see everything from where Toilet stood at the edge of the grounds. If any contestants were still out and about—probably celebrating their immunity and the fact that they got to spend more time with Mister Phone—he couldn't see them from here. Maybe a speck of light in the distance indicating Hotel OJ, but that was it. He didn't even get to have one last look at the people he'd been working with for the past several months.

It struck him that he didn't even get to say goodbye.

Something gave a terrible yank in his plumbing, and he jumped up into a frantic hover.

"GOODBYE EVERYBODYYYY!" he called out into the night. His voice echoed briefly, and he landed on the ground, waiting a moment. When nothing happened, he jumped into a slightly lower hover, shakily adding: "I-I love you...!"

Again he landed, waiting a moment longer for a response. Maybe someone rushing out to ask him what was going on, or where he was going. Or someone calling "goodbye" back. He'd even take Mister Phone telling him to shut up.

Nothing.

He was leaving this place for good, and no one cared.

Something tugged in his plumbing again, and he spun back around, hurrying away as his vision blurred with tears.

But no, no, maybe they didn't know yet, he argued to himself as he charged past the edges of the contestant grounds. Maybe they hadn't noticed—the last challenge hadn't ended that long ago. It had to be that, right? Maybe later they'd be looking around for him and saying "Hey, where did Toilet run off to?" They would miss him, Mister Phone would miss him, they had to, they had to, they—

His porcelain struck a rock he'd failed to notice, and he tumbled forward, splashing water on the ground and inadvertently slinging his bindle ahead of him. It clattered down softly in the grass, the handkerchief coming untied, spilling some of its contents.

"Ah!" he cried, hurrying up to the pile of items. While some were still covered by the handkerchief, several colorful cards had been scattered across the grass.

Toilet rushed to gather them up, but took a moment to stare at each one as he picked it up. The first was a cat drawn in marker and glitter on a blue card, while the next was... Microphone? He'd drawn her shouting with a bunch of sound waves coming out around her. Next was Baseball and Nickel—he'd drawn them on the same card since they seemed to like to hang out—and then there was Balloon, and Fan and that funny egg, and some more cats, and Marshmallow, and Mister Phone, and...

...Oh, right. These had been for him.

He'd nearly forgotten, after everything that had happened. He'd drawn these the other day when he'd found Mister Phone unconscious by the painting of the corn man. He'd had that weird message on his screen—something about memory—so Toilet had decided to try drawing a bunch of "memory cards" to help him jog that memory. He'd drawn all the contestants, even the eliminated ones, so Mister Phone would remember the game show and be able to get back to it. But then MePad had come along and—

Toilet paused.

On the last card, he’d drawn MePad next to Toilet himself.

I do not intend on being superior to you at all. I consider us equals. We both serve a different purpose, is all.

He stared down at the drawing, at MePad's screen colored in purple ink and shimmering glitter.

The last time he'd seen that screen, he'd been staring into it imploringly, waiting for MePad to back him up, to support him as he always had. Mister Phone was upset and not acting very rationally, but MePad could talk Mister Phone down and convince him that he didn't need to fire Toilet.

But when MePad had met Toilet's gaze, he'd only looked away.

"Equals…?" Toilet muttered, glaring down at the drawing. "Good to know that was a bunch of hogwash!" He punctuated the last word with a splash of water, soaking the card and causing the ink to run, the glitter to wash away. For a moment he felt a twinge of regret, but only for a moment, and he turned back to the fallen bindle with a huff.

As he moved part of the handkerchief aside to put the stack of cards back in, he wound up uncovering the rest of its contents: a bundle of wires in a rainbow of colors.

Oh.

That’s right… Mister Phone had asked for them so often, he'd finally gone out one day to gather a variety of them to have ready. He hadn't really asked for them since, but Toilet had hung onto them, just in case.

Maybe Mister Phone would need them again—need him again—and call him back.

Shaking himself, Toilet quickly gathered his possessions again and tied the bindle back together, making sure the knot was extra-tight this time. Slinging it behind his tank, he continued his journey, noticing the grass beneath him slowly transition into sand. Up ahead, water lapped against the otherwise-silent beach.

It struck him that he had no idea where to go from here. He'd been working here for so long, ever since Master Adam had hired him to—

...Wait, that was it!

Mister Phone had only gotten so angry after he'd mentioned Master Adam. It had to be something to do with him, right? If Mister Phone was angry at Master Adam, then Master Adam must've done something awful!

Where was Master Adam, though? Toilet had never met him in person—they'd only ever spoken over the phone. But Mister Phone had also mentioned the corn man, so maybe Master Adam was working for him? Funny he'd never seen him when they visited the Cloud, though. If he'd known, he would've stopped at his office to say hello.

Well... maybe he could give his office a visit, then, but not for a friendly chat.

Toilet strode across the sandy beach, a goal finally set in mind.

He was going to get to the bottom of this, and figure out what was bothering Mister Phone once and for all.

And… and then maybe Mister Phone would want him back.

…Maybe?

…please?

[a-na-dhil]

i just realised why crowley is living in his bentley: he is scared of going too fast.

of course in these two years he must have thought of asking aziraphale about moving to the bookshop, but he probably never had the courage to ask, since he's still afraid of going too fast for him, as aziraphale once said.

and aziraphale? he probably didn't even realise that crowley is actually living in the bentley, cause he spends most of the time at the bookshop anyway, and he didn't thought about actually asking him to move in with him. he probably confides in the fact that crowley would tell him if he wanted something, without considering his fear of asking for more.

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!

[almondpiglet]

ppl were drawing mikus from all over so heres habesha miku and her lil twin sibs rin and len!!

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[the-coffee-fandom]

Had to make a meme to describe me currently

[jjk4isen]

super annoying gojo satoru when a girl comes up to you and asks you if he's your brother even after clearly seeing him grabbing your ass and saying super cheesy lines to you to make you only roll your eyes at him.

and you're stuck dumbfounded because it's not rocket science to figure out that you two are a thing just by looking at the both of you because the clingy bastard is quite literally stuck to you everywhere you go, whining and pleading for yet another kiss after stealing several from you.

and it's the same clinginess that prompts him to answer in your stead "yes actually. we're siblings" he beams a smile at you and you scowl, why the hell is he feeding onto this random girl's delusions like that? can't he take the hint?

you're not done scrutinising him when he grabs your chin with his big ass hands and smashes his lips onto yours, tugging and devouring your mouth into an extra sloppy kiss for the girl to take a hint.

he pulls away, a smirk on his lips as he licks his lips where yours had been a second ago. "is that obvious enough?" he chuckles, eyes never leaving yours as you see the girl storm off in the corner of your eye.

[tanjir0se]

Disclaimer these are just a small sampling of some possible writer traits I’ve noticed either in myself or in fics I read. Also consider a rb for sample size !

[noodles-and-tea]

Continuation of this

[adrianfridge]

Height gap romance except the shorter one is frequently depicted in situations where they are contextually taller. The taller one sitting while the shorter one looms over them. Both of them lying in bed with the taller one’s head pressed to the shorter one’s chest. The shorter one straddling the taller one’s lap and leaning down for a kiss. The taller one on their knees as the shorter one tilts their head up. Please, it makes me go feral

[nonbinary-arsonists]

I will take that rabbit and give him found family whether he LIKES IT or NOT.

Click for higher quality + alt text :)

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[frigidfries]

happy birthday deltarune. happy late birthday undertale. here's a comic!

cheers to best friends forever & ever & ever & ever & ev

[yeehawpim]