#tropes and kinks

[ronearoundblindly]

🧙‍♀️- which witch is which: send someone kinks/tropes and some babes and let them synch them up

Tropes and kinks- Mob AU, A disaster that turns out good, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Masturbation, Finding your crush naked in bed, Cock worshipping.

Babes of choice-

Add more characters if you want!

Full disclosure: I would never pick Mob AU...but Lloyd would be the only character I could see it for.

Now, to the real options!!!

If you couldn't tell from the ask, this will not be a safe post for minors. Warnings for some smutty talk/innuendo.

Finding Steve Rogers naked in bed...

Hazard of wearing a skin-tight suit, Stevie much prefers to be naked at home (or just not working)--well, naked in a bedroom, minimally dressed everywhere else in a house/apartment/hotel room. He doesn't even mean it to be sexy; he just can't stand all the restriction all the time. Steve is most-often found laying face-down on the bed anyway, and no, not with the intention of showing off his ass. It's because he's "resting his eyes" like an old fart. (This, however, does not rule out some fooling around if you're into it. His eyes can rest while he blindly, yet deftly, gropes at your body.)

Joke about his tiny-Ts all you want, but that fabric is nothing compared to padding, leather, and kevlar.

Steve is also a secret whore for air conditioning. He is the reason that thermostat can go so low. He wants to be frozen to the point of needing all the fluffy, soft covers and you tucked up against him. People think the cold in general would be triggering for him, but that's mostly the combo of isolation, cold, and wet. Luckily, he doesn't need to give his muscles ice baths with the help of the serum.

Friend Andy Barber grows into more...

IDK, man, this guy is such a workaholic (hello, pot, meet kettle) that I see him finding a bond with a coworker or someone at least as dedicated to their work as he is. He's the type that tells himself he has no time for romance yet inadvertently spends long nights and some weekends 'working'--which he does, he does do all that work. Andy just, ya know, grows feelings as his understanding of the case grows...

Apropos of nothing, y'all know how lawyers love a good argument...and therefore a good speech...and therefore I present to you my theory that Andy fucking loves you to take over in bed and talk dirty. It's just a thought. Yeah. I think he'd be really into that.

Disaster Ari Levinson turns out good...

Best laid plans of big, dumb jocks and all, Ari doesn't necessarily think things through, so his shenanigans often escalate way too far, too fast. No one really knows how he's survived this long. He's an adrenaline junkie, and you bet your ass he wants to impress when he's interested in someone.

What he actually planned undoubtedly goes horribly wrong, but somehow you still end up safely pinned between his body and the danger he created, panting out your 'thank you' and 'what the fuck' in breaths Ari steals. He's a messy, passionate kisser who lives a messy, passionate life.

Bonus: Mutual Masturbation with this guy ⬇️

I would be ashamed of anyone needing me to explain why.

[Main Masterlist; 'Who Would' Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[cheralith]

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who accidentally finds out who you gave your first kiss to after being under the impression you still had it.

sure, you both were reaching an age where most people had already kissed another, been bedded, under-age drank, but kaiser never took you as the type to be so… promiscuous (“your dad was okay with it?” he had asked. “why the hell would i tell my dad about that.” your eye roll had never been louder.)

it was apparently some classmate you had dated briefly back in early high school, a time where you had both were barely able to see each other since kaiser spent some time in jail after being framed and after being bailed out by his manager, spent the majority of his time in his team’s training clubhouse. it didn’t help that it was quite a few towns away from your own, so communication grew weary between you and him during that time.

so when you and him finally reconnected and began to settle down with each other once again at an older age, where you and him were blooming into college, he’s amazed to see how much you had grown during the past few years, how your featured had matured into themselves so elegantly that sometimes, when you weren’t looking, he’d examine each bit of your features to get a proper look.

it was a little difficult attempting to gain a proper stance from him, since all the training at bastard mündchen had clearly done a work on him both good and bad, but when kaiser felt himself relaxing more and more with each frequented interaction with you—he’s brought back to when you were both children and didn’t know any better of the world around you.

so imagine his shock when you accidentally let it slip out that your first kiss went rather wrong as you and him are watching some sort of foreign sports movie where the main character’s long-time love interest finally kisses him.

“god i remember my first kiss,” you say casually, making kaiser snap his neck towards you so fast.

first kiss? you had your first kiss already? before he did???

sure, kaiser had a good amount of fans that flocked to him every chance they got and perhaps he’s done a little bit of entertaining to them, but even so—he still hasn’t necessarily had such a moment shared with another. he never felt like he needed to focus on it… never felt like it was some deed worth prioritizing becoming the best striker… until now.

“huh?” kaiser shuffles in his place and furrows his brows tightly, a vein barely visible from his forehead. “whaddya mean first kiss? with who? when?”

the questions shoot out all at once, you can’t help but laugh at kaiser’s (supposed) curiosity. you suppose the suspense of knowing what happened to that runt he met at eight years old has experienced since his arrest.

“oh, it was just a classmate from one of my sophomore classes,” you wave a hand, as if it was completely nothing to hold much regard to.

kaiser twitched, his eyes flickering towards your ripened lips. “and you gave him your first kiss?”

“probably my last too,” you sigh out wearily, “haven’t really had much people interested in me since then.”

he fell silent, going to scan your face again once more as you fixated your gaze to the tv, circling in on your lips again that give a soft pout. he twitched.

“he got too excited and ended up moreso clashing his mouth on mine—we ended up clacking teeth pretty hard,” you snort out as you stare in quiet amazement at how tender and soft the tv’s couple’s kisses were. “it ended up hurting too much to try and continue.”

you bite your lip, concentrated. “i dunno, i just wish it was more slowly, more… in-the-moment.”

kaiser twitched once more. noticing your wistful gaze at the movie playing in front of you and him. he flickers his eyes toward the intimate scene that you seem so focused on. he pays attention to how the lips of the two characters flow in a certain rhythm and how they meld into each other. they seem loose, relaxed, and that lack of tension made the kiss seem much more romantic.

he thinks back to some of how his teammates greet their girlfriends with kisses, or how he’ll just see a random couple locking lips with each other in the bars his team and him tended to as a celebration of a victorious game. kaiser had never felt a compulsion to experience such a thing, but there’s a strange magnetic feeling he’s getting that tugs him closer to you that is very much not his own rationale’s doing.

he says it with too much confidence. he says it like he’s done it numerous times before, like he’s a master at it, despite never even paying such avid attention to another’s lips until now. so kaiser doesn’t know why, but he suddenly blurts out,

“then let me show you a proper kiss.”

[kj-beastboy]

What do you mean "yet", Flug, you're like 8 months...

[shhhsecretsideblog]

We were in a restaurant, purposely going there while you’re in labor (water already broke) because we wanted to do a public birth. We played along as you continue to labor.

Soon enough, you told me that you need to push. I was excited to see you give birth into that tight jeans of yours, but I say to you: “Don’t push… not yet.”

I’d done so well, keeping my labouring noises to a minimum, as we sat in a booth at a mediocre restaurant chain. When we arrived you waited politely for me to take a seat first then, instead of sitting opposite, you sit down next to me on the leather covered bench. No doubt wanting a front row view of what was to come.

The music played loudly over the speakers, accompanied by the excited chatter of patrons drinking and laughing on a casual night out, completely aware of our current situation. There was barely any room with us both sat on the same cushioned bench, my swollen pregnant body squished between the wall and your body.

As the contractions ramped up I began to rock forward and back, desperate to alleviate the pressure building in my hips as our baby’s head sunk deeper into the bowl of my pelvis. I clamped my mouth shut to muffle my involuntary groaning as the waves relentlessly crashed through my whole body. Your hands were soft and supportive, rubbing my aching back, squeezing my thigh or holding my hands. And yet, your body did not move from the seat, keeping me trapped in the corner of the bustling restaurant.

The waiters gave me concerned looks as I became more and more sweaty and dishevelled with every visit to our table, but your reassuring smile and friendly tone seemed to put a stop to the staff making any comments of my wellbeing.

I managed to last through the starters and main course, but as we ordered desserts I was starting to struggle. The heavy weight pressing down in my hips was getting more urgent, the skull of the baby’s head widening my cervix and squeezing through the birth canal. Even with the soft elastic of my maternity jeans, my belly felt tight and constricted. The pain of the contractions starting to make me nauseous.

The grunt that rattled my throat was uncontrollable as the latest cramp squeezed everything down.

“Nngh— I think I need to push…” I panted, gripping the edge of the wooden table, trying to breathe through the instinctive urge to bear down.

“Don’t push… not yet.” You grumbled against the shell of my ear, holding one hand possessively on the top curve of my contracting belly.

The waiter came over with our desserts but I could barely look up, solely focussed on not giving into the pressure. You took the plates with our desserts, ordered another beer, and rubbed my back in a casual affectionate way.

I whimpered against the raging spasms rippling my belly. I needed to move, my legs needed to be wider, the baby was coming down… coming out. The noise of the restaurant faded into the background as my grunting occupied my senses. Another contraction contorted my belly, shifting and squeezing everything inside. Oh fuck, I couldn’t last much longer—

“I can’t h-hold it… I have to push…. Mnghhhh!!”

Before you could react I was bearing down against the weight in my womb, giving in to instincts and the primal urge to birth.

“No!” You snapped, quickly moving your hand from your beer to between my open legs under the table. Your palm covered the crotch of my jeans and it was clear from the look in your eyes that the hand was going to stay for a while. “Okay… you’ve done so well sweetheart. You can push now if you want.”

I knew it was futile, I knew your immovable hand was blocking its exit, but I couldn’t stop myself from bearing down, pushing against the large mass of the baby sitting just behind my lips.

“That’s it. Push for me darling.” You smirked, feeling the baby bulging in my jeans, knowing it wouldn’t get very far with your hand and my jeans in the way.

~ ko-fi ☕️ ~

[puppyboytdick]

the prince and the prostitute

a prince who's never been able to cum offers a world-class prostitute an incredible sum of money to stay in his palace for as long as it takes to make him cum. the prostitute, confident that he can make the prince cum in minutes, wastes no time getting to work between the prince's legs. when sucking his swollen tdick and fingering his wet cunt doesn't work, he makes use of the prince's extensive collection of sex toys, using dildos and vibrators and his own cock in each of the prince's holes, all to no avail. he spends all night trying, achieving nothing but getting them both incredibly worked up with no release. the prince, frustrated with him, comes up with an idea. he locks the prostitute in a chastity cage. now, he says, you won't be allowed to cum until you make me cum. that'll give you the proper motivation.

over the next few weeks, the prostitute gets increasingly desperate. he spends hours every day trying to get the prince off, all while leaking and throbbing in his cage. he comes to the prince's room in the middle of the night, too distracted by his aching cock to sleep, and begs to try again. he tongues the prince's cunt until his jaw is sore, but it only serves to make them both more desperate. he pleads with the prince, please, I've never gone so long without cumming before, it hurts, I need it. well, the prince says, now you know how I feel. a full month passes, and the prostitute is even more eager than the prince to make him cum. he follows him around, begging for the opportunity to keep trying. he aches so constantly that it's all he can think about.

after another night of relentless edging, the prince pushes the prostitute away from his throbbing cunt, too sensitive to continue. the prostitute, delirious with desperation, starts to uselessly rut his caged cock against the prince's leg. something clicks in the prince's mind. watching him pant and sweat, hearing him beg almost incoherently between whimpers, feeling the precum leaking from his cock as it strains against the metal, the prince feels closer than he ever has. he starts to rub his own tdick. keep begging, he says. the prostitute is too dumb with desperation to realize what's happening, but he obeys the command. the prince rubs harder and faster. god, the prostitute is barely coherent now, unable to do anything but keep desperately humping the prince's leg. one more pretty whimper and it sends the prince over the edge. his whole body shakes as he cums, and cums, and cums, waves of pleasure crashing over him for full minutes. finally, he collapses, and catches his breath. he opens his eyes to find the prostitute looking at him with pleading desperation. you came, he says, so that means I get to cum, right? that means you'll unlock me? that was the deal, right? right?? but the prince only smiles at him. he's finally found what makes him cum, why would he ever let that go?

[rythyme]

alpha/alpha isn't even a canonized AO3 tag yet and Pit Babe The Series is already out here like "there's a special kind of alpha that can get other alphas pregnant 😜"

[grayskies2525]

Inevitable (male sneezing, contagion)

Just wanted to write something super self-indulgent with minimal plot.

CW: This fic includes detailed contagion! It’s gross and I spare no details — we’re talking snot strings and things of that nature. If you’re not into that, absolutely do NOT begin reading this or you’ll have a very unpleasant time. If you do, however, like contagion and messy sneezes, I hope you enjoy this 😊

Part one is just set up, but I plan to continue it with Evan spreading his germs everywhere (unintentionally).

Here are the links to all parts:

Part two Part Three Part Four

*** 

Part One

It’s a sneeze — a single sneeze. A simple bodily function. There’s nothing intrinsically bad about a sneeze.

These words run through Evan’s mind as he picks at his cuticle while his eyes dart to the man across from him. The elevator’s been stuck for several minutes already and there’s an unease settling in Evan’s stomach as he looks at this man. They’d walked on together, smiling awkwardly the way two strangers tend to do. Then the man had immediately snapped forward in an uncovered sneeze. 

It’s probably allergies.

This is a rational thought to have, Evan thought. It is March. There’s definitely pollen in March. But then the elevator got stuck and the man started letting out chest rattling coughs. 

So he’s definitely sick. But maybe he’s not contagious? It could just be a lingering illness — one of those that hang on for weeks but are no longer as easily transmissible to other people. 

“I’m sor — heh — sorry — HHHH! I woke up with an awful c—hh heh! — cuuhhhh hh —  cold. HH hh hhhhh HH! I’ve been sneezing all  — heeh hehhhh — day,” the man says in a trembling voice before reaching up to rub his reddened, swollen nose. It makes a horribly audible squelching sound.

Evan reaches for strength somewhere deep within to will himself not to wince as he stares at the man. Evan has seen him around the college before, and is pretty sure he’s an instructor, though he doesn’t know the subject he teaches. He has dark skin, looks to be in his early-mid thirties and most notably — he’s tall; Evan would estimate him to be somewhere around 6’5. He has a nice build — muscles visible through his tight long sleeved shirt. His silver eyebrow piercing glints under the elevator’s dim lights. On any other day, Evan would find him to be attractive — exceptionally so. It’s clear, however, that Evan is not seeing this man at his best. 

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Evan says, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He would rather this guy didn’t talk — that he didn’t do anything that could result in more droplets entering the air they’re sharing. Can talking spread droplets? He imagines they probably can.

“I thought it was allergies yesterday, but I woke up today and I —” He breaks off coughing, holding a fist out weakly. Evan can hear the phlegm rattling around in the man’s chest, and again he has to suppress a wince.

“Sounds rough,” Evan says, giving a strained smile as he taps his fingers against his thigh. This elevator usually only stays stuck for a few minutes. He can last a few minutes without catching something off this man, surely. Maybe the germs from that first uncovered sneeze won't take.

“I probably shouldn’t have come in today,” the man says, shooting Evan a smile that would probably be charming if it weren’t for how tired it looks. “But I didn’t realize how bad this bug was going to be. I don’t think I’ve ever sneezed so much in my life,” he says, sniffling thickly. “And my nose is running non-stop. It’s a faucet. I’m not exaggerating —I’ve gone through an entire box of tissues already.”

With these words, Evan finds himself suddenly regretting his choice to go back to school for a second Bachelor’s. Yes, his creative writing degree has been practically useless for the six years he’s had it, and yes, he does want to pursue psychology and therefore needs to continue his education. But, right now, that all seems unimportant as he looks at the sniffling man, whose breaths are beginning to hitch again.

Maybe the sneezes are stuck? Like this damn elevator. Please, please, please stay stuck until I can get off this thing, he thinks to himself while digging his nails into his palm. 

“I hate this elevator,” the man says, giving a nervous chuckle. Evan suppresses a groan as he realizes this man is clearly one of those people who are incapable of sitting —or in this case standing — in silence.  “Breaks down almost every day. I don’t even know why I risk taking it, anymore,” he says, giving another thick, slurpy sniffle. By the way the man scrunches his nose and closes his eyes, Evan suspects the sniffle produced a particularly intense tickle.

“Yeah, I get stuck on it probably once a week,” Evan says, giving another strained smile. 

“You’d think someone would do something about — heehhh —” The man trails off, his eyelids fluttering.

Evan can see the man’s glistening nostrils begin to flare. 

“Do you — do you happen to have a ti — hih — tihih — tihiiiihhhissue?” the man asks, his voice shaking.

“A tissue? Sorry, wish I did, but no,” Evan says.

He truly does wish he had a tissue because this man’s going to sneeze. Not only is this man going to sneeze, it’s going to be a messy sneeze. Rarely does Evan know something with such certainty, but this is one of those times. This man’s sniffles aren’t the soft kind that can be taken care of with a soft blow. They’re desperate sniffles — the “holding back an entire tide of mucus” type.

It will be fine as long as this elevator starts up soon. He needs it to start back up soon, then he can walk off and go home and everything will be fine and — 

“HhH—hHRGG’sschhHHHHEEW!!!”

Evan closes his eyes and holds his breath. He slowly opens his eyes, reluctant to see the inevitable aftermath of the absurdly loud and forceful sounding sneeze. Evan’s shoulders relax, though, as he sees the man lower his arm. He’d clearly managed to cover. There’s an obvious wet spot on the man’s sleeve, but still, it was contained. Evan lets himself breathe. That first, uncovered sneeze when they’d walked in must have been a fluke. This man is clearly polite and understands the value of keeping germs to himself.

Evan allows himself to smile sympathetically as he looks at the man and gives a polite “bless you.”

“Thanks,” the man says with another tired smile and thick sniffle. “Like I said — all day. I don’t think I’ve ever been sick like this. It’s just sneeze after sneeze. I’m sure my students must have been tired of blessing me. I can’t wait to just go home and sleep this thing off. If only this elevator would HH’REEHH’TSHOOO! HRR AHHHH-T’SHOOOO!”

Evan remembers seeing something on the news once about the amount of distance a sneeze can travel and how many droplets a single sneeze can potentially contain. It was something like 20 feet and thirty-thousand droplets. While this was distressing information, it hadn’t exactly been believable to Evan. People sneeze all the time.  He sneezes everyday and it certainly doesn’t seem like sneezes can be that powerful. So, he’d frowned at the information, but ultimately moved on, mostly forgetting it. 

This information now, however, crawls along back to the surface of Evan’s mind as the stranger blasts him with sneezes that can only be described as soaking wet. 

They erupted from the man with absolutely no warning and through the harsh lighting of the elevator, Evan can nearly see each and every droplet — some fine, some large and clearly mixed with thick mucus. With only six feet between them — at best — Evan can now believe without any doubt that sneezes can, indeed, contain thirty-thousand droplets. 

And he’s just been hit with two sneezes full of them — entirely unrestrained. 

Evan wants to wipe himself off, but he doesn’t know how. Every exposed part of him has been doused in infectious spray — his neck, his hands, his face…. He decides he can at least wipe off his lips, so he finds a dry spot of his hand before bringing it up to his mouth.

The man’s head is still bent forward, which seems to be a poor decision because his nose is dripping terribly. Evan watches in something of a morbid type of fascination as the droplets hit the elevator floor before the stranger gives a thick sniff and looks back up at Evan.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his expression looking genuinely apologetic, though there’s also something about it that’s decidedly sneezy. His nostrils begin to flare again, but this time he brings a hand up before snapping forward.

“HrrRIIHHHGG’shuuuhhhh! HRR’EHHHTSHOOOO! IhhGT’SHOOOOO! MPFFX’TSHOOOO!”

Evan grimaces as the contents of the man’s nose pour out into the man’s hand in thick, visible strings. To the guy’s credit, he does try to contain it, but the sheer amount makes it impossible. He presses his hand firmly against his nose, but Evan can see moisture seeping through the cracks of his fingers. Evan is certain he's never come close to seeing someone lose control of the contents of their nose in such a dramatic way. Usually adults have a handle on containing the more unpleasant aspects head colds usually bring, but clearly this specific virus is a special case. 

Evan averts his eyes because the situation is gross beyond description, but also, this must be the most mortifying moment of this stranger’s life and he doesn’t need someone staring at him.

Evan feels his own cheeks heat in embarrassment for the man.

Mostly, though, Evan is consumed by apprehension. There’s no possible way he can expect his body to fend off the innumerable germs that are surely trying to invade him right at this moment. Even if it could fight off some of them, there’s far too many to hope he can escape them all.

Evan is surprised to find a sort of peace in accepting this as fact. There’s nothing to be done now. He is coated in germ-infested spray, so he’s going to get sick. In the same way he can’t change how tall he is, he also can’t change this. In a few days time, he’s going to come down with this absolutely monstrous looking cold because it’s as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning.

Part 2

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience 6.2

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 6th snippet, part 2. Celebrimbor has an unfortunate run-in with a bigger threat than he expected. Thankfully, Adar arrives in time to take care of it. Celebrimbor is rather intrigued as a result.

Just some competence kink and Adar protecting Celebrimbor, who takes notice. Warning: If you are squeamish about Damrod graphically threatening violence towards Celebrimbor, or show-level violence being described in regards to a hill troll, you might want to skip this one!

Thank you lovely people again for the likes and replies! This has already gone on way longer than I expected thanks to you! <3

The easy conversation between Celebrimbor and Glûg was cut short, however, when he and his guards heard heavy footsteps close in on them and Celebrimbor saw various uruk either slowly back up or run past him and Adar's lieutenants.

As the elf turned in the direction of the commotion, he felt his heart jump into his throat as his eyes rose high, then higher, and finally settled on the misshapen face of a hill troll.

A hill troll, who was slowly but surely moving in the direction of their little group – and all the while, his eyes firmly rested on Celebrimbor.

Next to him, Glûg snarled and threw some words at the other lieutenant, who quickly shouted something urgent in black speech. The smith could hear the call repeated further along the camp, but was far too focused on the threat in front of him to pay any mind to what might have been said.

The troll finally came to stand some paces away from the elf and his guards. He continued to look at Celebrimbor for a long moment before a mean grin broke out across his face.

"Elf meat," he simply stated, tone giddy.

The smith gulped, and contemplated that perhaps, his cursing of Eru might have been a bit of a bad idea, considering that he seemed intent to throw ever more danger Celebrimbor’s way.

Next to him, Glûg made to step forward and raise his spear at the troll. The smith quickly shot out his arm and held him back. Glûg was staring at him in disbelief. "Adar sent me to guard you. Let me do my duty!"

"Don’t be a fool," the elf hissed in response, "You have no way to best him. Your spear would hardly do any damage before tore you apart. Think of your child."

The uruk seemed ready to argue with Celebrimbor, but still let himself be pushed backwards as the smith gave him a light shove. He stared imploringly at the uruk. "Let me try and handle this before you risk your life, at least."

Truth be told, the chances were slim – trolls couldn’t be charmed with clever words and appeals to their better qualities. If they even had any of those. And judging by the fact that the troll saw Celebrimbor as food...well, it was difficult as prey argue with one’s hunter.

Perhaps, he might be able to use his elven strength and speed against the other, if worst came to worst, but it would surely put the camp at risk. And without a proper weapon, Celebrimbor knew he didn’t exactly have an advantage.

"Greetings," the smith tried, deliberately cordial, and still kept himself between the troll and the two uruk guards. He could see that not all of Adar’s children had fled; some were still nearby, standing half-hidden behind the tents and crates. "My name is Celebrimbor. Who might you be?"

The troll didn’t seem to be the least bit surprised at the smith's greeting. Or perhaps he wasn’t sparing much thought to anything but the potential meal in front of him, come to think of it.

"Damrod."

The smith nodded. "Damrod. Pleased to make your aquaintance?"

The troll couldn’t be dissuaded. "It has been a long time since I have eaten an elf. You will do nicely."

"I’d actually think that I am a bit too bony to make for a fulfilling meal, after the recent strain I have been put through, to be quite honest," the smith replied and couldn't quite keep his voice from shaking as he did so.

It was a half-lie – Adar had been feeding him well, after all. It was just that, after the amounts of stress and exhaustion the smith had dealt with, his robes weren’t quite so form-fitting anymore as they had been back in Eregion.

"Hrm. We will see about that," Damrod retorted, and made to take a step forward.

Celebrimbor held up his hands to make the other halt his movements as he tried to search for words, but Glûg beat him to it. "Adar wants this elf alive, troll. Leave your dirty paws off of him!"

The smith silently cursed and motioned for the uruk to stay back, but it only ended up with the two of them glaring at each other for a brief moment before they turned their attention back to the menace in front of them.

"Adar would have told me if that were true. He mentioned no elf."

"I am mentioning it now, Damrod," came a new voice from slightly behind Celebrimbor, who both felt a weight drop off his shoulders and his heart seize at the words – glad he wasn’t facing this danger alone anymore, but worried about yet another person who would be at risk due to the troll. "My lieuntenant is right. That elf is mine, leave him be. You aren’t even supposed to be in the camp proper."

The Lord Father of the uruk walked by the smith without taking his eyes off of Damrod, but Celebrimbor couldn’t help following the other with his gaze. Adar’s presence was commanding as he slowly walked up to the troll, seemingly unafraid.

He did have his hand placed on the handle of his sword, however.

It didn’t escape the smith that Adar was directing his path in such a way that it had him step between Celebrimbor, the lieutenants and their opponent as if by accident. The elf suspected it to be anything but.

"What do you need an elf for?" the troll asked, sounding petulant. He was still focused on the smith as he spoke.

"This elf is from a noble house. I have married him, and he will give me the ability to enter the elven city and drag out Sauron," Adar explained calmly. "So that we, you and I, may kill him."

The troll thought on that for a moment. "Hrmph. So I cannot even kill and eat elves in battle?"

A pause, and then he grinned once more, malicious as his gaze finally settled on Adar. "He can still be that without legs. Can’t he? He can live without those. Also, he won’t be able to run away if I take them."

Celebrimbor felt himself blanch, and looked down his legs before his gaze shot up once more. Ignoring the fact that such an injury could be life-threatening even for an elf – he rather liked his legs?

Damrod took another step towards the elf, and suddenly Adar stepped backwards as well until his back was almost up against Celebrimbor’s chest, arm outstretched as if to shield him. He still didn’t look at the smith, who stretched out a hand and lightly placed it on Adar’s arm – not to clutch, as he wouldn’t want to hinder the uruk’s movements, but because he needed to let the other know where he was.

And also, he was unsettled enough that he needed something to ground himself. Despite the danger, the smith couldn’t help but notice how firm the arm in his hold was. How he could feel Adar’s body heat and smell the metal of his armor due to their closeness.

"Celebrimbor will stay in one piece. That is not up for discussion," Adar replied, and his voice did sound decidedly more strained now.

And then, he drew his sword. "Though you are right about one thing, Damrod – some things can be lived without. And I think my army can live without you being part of it."

Neither Celebrimbor nor the troll had any time to react to the Lord Father’s words before Adar lifted his free hand to the smith’s chest and pushed him backwards roughly – the elf stumbled and almost fell, but found himself caught in Glûg’s hold instead. Who didn’t even let the smith get his bearings before he yanked him further back and away from what was quickly turning into the site of a dangerous fight.

The troll seemed more stunned than anything, and Adar used that advantage to sprint forward and get in the first hit of his sword.

The elf watched, mesmerized, as Adar spun about the troll and quickly slashed the back his heels while avoiding the grasping hands of Damrod. The hill troll bellowed as he dropped to his knees and swiped his arms about as he tried to catch Adar, but he was clearly too slow and too immobile to do so.

The uruk kept his distance and remained in Damrod’s blind spot, adjusting the hold on the sword as he studied the troll’s movements with a drawn expression. Whether it was anger or concentration, Celebrimbor couldn’t tell.

Adar was deliberate in his movements and didn’t waste any of his strength as he let Damrod rage and flail about. The smith wasn’t quite sure what did eventually cause the uruk to spring into action again – it must have been some cue Celebrimbor couldn’t parse as someone who mostly existed as a non-combatant. But eventually, the uruk grasped the handle of his sword with two hands and began to sprint at Damrod’s back.

With a few steps and two jumps up Damrod's arm, he had reached the troll’s shoulders, and drove his sword into the back of the troll’s neck in one quick thrust. It went through like a knife cutting through butter, despite the fact that trolls were quite sturdy creatures.

Celebrimbor couldn’t help but be awed at the uruk’s display of skill and strength. Very few elves could fell a hill troll all on their own, and even fewer could do it in such few attacks as Adar had peformed.

Damrod gurgled and tried to hold the front of his throat, to get a grasp of Adar’s sword, but Adar withdrew it and leapt from the troll’s back before he even got close. Safely out of reach, the uruk began to walk back to where the elf and Glûg were frozen in place.

For a moment, it looked as if the troll would struggle back to his feet, snarling and glaring in the direction of the group, before he toppled over and onto the ground. It did not take long before his body stilled completely.

The elf released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and could feel Glûg do the same behind him. The lieutenant soon began to pull Celebrimbor up and back into a standing position from where he’d been slouched into the uruk’s chest.

Still, the smith couldn’t take his eyes off of Adar, who didn’t even have a scratch or a drop of blood on him. He merely shook his sword to clean off some of the thick, black liquid on it, and then sheated it again as he came to a stop right in front of Celebrimbor.

He reached out, and grasped Celebrimbor’s elbow when the elf’s legs shook precariously for a moment. As he steadied the smith, he asked, "Are you alright?" and let his eyes move over Celebrimbor’s body, undoutably looking for injuries.

Both the concern and the other’s searching gaze made the smith feel strangely warm inside. He lifted the arm Adar had a hold of without shaking his grip, and placed his hand on the inside of the uruk’s elbow. Adar’s head jerked up, and the two locked eyes.

"I am a little shaken, but otherwise unharmed – thanks to you. And your guard," the smith confirmed, and turned a shaky smile at Glûg. Then he turned back to his husband. "How about you? Are you okay?"

Adar stared at him for a breath, expression unreadable, before he nodded. "I am fine. He tried, but he couldn’t reach me."

Neither he nor Celebrimbor had let go of the other, and the smith didn’t feel inclined to bring attention to that fact – or change anything about it. Adar’s hand was a warm, comforting weight through Celebrimbor's robe, and despite the ability for violence he had just displayed, his hold was decidedly light – gentle.

The uruk turned his face to Glûg, then. "How about you, child?"

The lieutenant bowed slightly. "Lord Father. I am unharmed as well."

Adar nodded, and placed his free hand on the uruk’s shoulder in a gesture of support. The uruk seemed to preen under his leader’s attention.

The moment did not last long, and Adar quickly withdrew his hands again – both of them. The feeling of dissappointment was a surprise for the smith, but he chalked it up to how unsettled he still felt due to the unexpected danger.

He was even more surprised when, after that, he felt a hand between his shoulder blades, and caught sight of Adar watching him.

"I hate to cut your exploration short, Celebrimbor. But I think I’d be more at ease if you remained in our tent for the rest of the day," he explained. A pause, a snort, and then he added, "You seem particularly skilled at attracting danger."

The elf would have been indignant, if he hadn’t caught himself wishing to return to the imagined safety of the tent as well. He nodded in assent, but his mind continued to linger on a particular, little piece of Adar’s previous sentence.

‘Our tent,’ the elf thought, and let himself be lead along by his husband, whose hand still remained firmly on his back. Celebrimbor was sure Adar hadn’t even been aware of his choice of words, and yet-

The warmth he had felt before spread across his chest and down to the tips of his fingers. Once he wasn’t quite so much in need of a chair to sit down in and some time to contemplate the day’s events, the smith knew he’d have to try and examine that more closely.

For now, however, Celebrimbor let himself be guided back, Adar walking by his side as he talked to Glûg and the other lieutenant. If there was a small smile spreading across the elf's face for a moment despite what had just happened, well, that was only for Celebrimbor to know.

[kantush]

Hi!! I’m OBSESSED with ur art <33

If it isn’t gonna be a prob 2 you I was wondering if you could do more if Miguel from atsv I know you did the last one like 25 days ago but still I luv it <33

If it’s too much to ask that’s fine but please.. I’m on my hands and knees PLEASE we need more miguellllllllllll

AGH..

Lmao it's been long since I've answered one of these but here ya go

(My iPad fucked up so I'm here going back to the basic phone and finger technique and ngl I can't believe I've been sleeping on Sketchbook all this time.)

[sneezysubbyboi]

The sheer hotness of an incomplete "I can't— 😩" before trailing off into a fit Like you can't whaat? ~ 🥰 can't stop sneezing?.. can't hold them back?.. can't handle how intense the tickle is?.. can't stop how embarrassingly messy you're getting?.. can't keep them from getting harsher and harsher?.. can't even stop to catch your breath?~ Like use your words~ not your sneezes~ 💕  but really their fit speaks a more than thousand words 🤭

[evadewilson]

guys, pals, friends, lieblings, if you see this post PLEASE drop your favourite spideypool tropes/fic things in the tags or comments PRETTY PLEASE

[whumpusgumpus]

WHUMP/SNZ/COLDS COMMISSIONS OPEN‼️ STARTING AT JUST 5$🗣️‼️

So I’m in a tough spot in life rn, and a fellow freak like y’all needs some help! Starting at 8$ per sketch, I’m opening up my whump/sck/snz commissions. I don’t have a comm sheet yet, but I’ve drawn tons of whump and am going to be uploading much more in the near future. The prices are as follows:

Each comes with a lil doodle: pictured above in the 3rd and 4th slides

8$ digital torso and up sketch (pictured above in 2nd slide, but erm digital

12$ torso and up digital sketch+color

18$ torso and up digital sketch+render (pictured above in 1st slide)

(From first to last +5,+8,+15) for an additional person (whumper or caretaker perhaps 😏)

I take Cashapp and paypal! I ask for the payment of each commission before it’s finished 😊

Sorry for the lack of examples, a beotch is in a PICKLE 🙂‍↕️ but ty y’all for reading, and I look forward to hopefully drawing some yummy stuff for y’all 😏

Pictured above: Drew konr/ad struggling w a fever. Although nervous at first given Konr/ad’s grumpy mood, Blathnat steps up to take care of him =)

[lunarleonardo]

I just opened ao3 after like 2 weeks and we got TWO NEW FICS?!?!?! WHATT?!?!? SCREAMINF

And oh my GOD roblox PRESSURE?!?! EEEK im so excited to read that one i read a good doors × drv3 fic not too long ago SO I AM SUPER HYPED because I love roblox AAAA :3

xD Yeah I tend to write a liiittle fast

Im pretty sure I read that same doors x drv3 fic!!! :D I LOOOVED that fic so so much!! It got ke to try playing doors again ^_^ (i failed horrendously)

On the note of fics, I actually have a whole 'nother two ficz planned. The first chapter is already done for one of them actually :P but I've been waiting to post it cus I have to finish Disconnected, and then another really small fic my girlfriend wants me to write. I wouldn't mind posting chapter 1 now, but I didnt want to unnecessarily flood peoples notifs with fics QwQ

[clover-heron]

The cover for my queer omorashi comic!

Lol i just realised i wrote my own name wrong xD too lazy to fix it rn tho

[starvingsketches]

Still one of my fav games💖

[happyandticklish]

Yes, a lee not being as ticklish and having the ler assure them that they're just as valid and working with them to find spots and techniques that work is great and all

But consider

Vice versa

A ler who is self-conscious about tickling and doesn't really know the right techniques or ways to go about it, and a lee who patiently walks them through it and works with them to find what tickles most