#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]

[hrtmehyer]

a very underused omo trope is the fake pee. someone absolutely desperate to pee, they can’t hold it any longer. so they’re told to pull down their pants, sit on the toilet, and do nothing. after about two minutes they’re told to get up, pull their pants up and move on.

and they’ll complain that “wait, i still need to pee!” no you don’t, you just peed. and you can’t lie to me and complain you need to go. you just peed. your bladder is empty. now go, you need to replenish all the liquid that you lost. <3

[orengejoshi]

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

[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 😜"

[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 ☕️ ~

[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 =)

[1-ichi]

I wonder who would be the first man down. Or could it be all three of them just struggling with allergies? Personally, I’d like to see n/anami being hit the worst and the other two taking care of their junior. Since usually, it’s the other way around where N/anami is being dragged around by their antics.

Thinking of Go/ge/nana (either platonic or romantic…no preference at the moment). I admire people who can write long fics or draw because I’d love to explore their dynamic too 😭😭 for the time being, i made a rough doodle on my phone…

[starvingsketches]

Still one of my fav games💖

[the-duchess-of-domination]

Emotional Eating

sometimes i like to think about a guy who eats his feelings.

i imagine his relationship with his girlfriend has turned sour. she broke up with him last night. he drives home from her house in the rain, fighting back bleary tears and lip quivers. when he gets home he cries into the wee hours of the morning.

the next day he wakes up in the afternoon. he doesn’t go to class or work, instead texting his family and friends about what happened. although he wants to be left alone to sulk, his mother knows how to make him feel better: make him his favorite chocolate cake. she figures it’s the least she can do.

she quickly gets to work. while she’s sifting flour and melting butter, his friends come over to cheer him up. they bring him treats they know he likes, like sour gummi worms, salty caramel ice cream, and lavender-flavored boba. he’s so grateful for his friends that their kindness just makes him cry harder.

his friends don’t stay long, seeing his emotions as still raw. there isn’t a bone of resentment in his body toward his ex-girlfriend. he misses her so much it hurts. he wants her back, and his friends know there isn’t anything they can do to help. among a melted pint of ice cream and sour gummi worms he eats and eats, out of both sadness and boredom. most people lose their appetite when they are heartbroken—but not him. he’s hungier than ever.

the doorbell rings, and his mother drops off a Black Forest cake. it was his favorite when he was a kid, and receiving it now is a comfort. he hugs his mom goodbye and takes it inside.

he doesn’t bother to slice it. he takes a big spoon from the kitchen, sits on the couch, and begins absentmindedly working through it. as he scarfs it down he nurses the gummi worms, salty caramel ice cream, and lavender boba his friends got him. for a brief hour he feels like the man. he is on top of the world. who needs her, anyway? he’s single and free now. he can do whatever he wants.

staring at the TV he tries to spoon more chocolate cake into his mouth. his teeth clink the spoon. he peers down and realizes there is no cake left.

all at once it hits him. the pleasure has worn off, and his guts are boiling. Black Forest cake, boba, gummi worms, caramel ice cream—all swirling inside his tummy. now not only is he heartbroken, he has the mother of all stomach aches. it really can’t get any worse than this. he becomes hyper aware of the fact that he is really, truly alone. she isn’t here to comfort him anymore.

he calls you. you’re his friend, and you’ve always had a little bit of a crush on him. he begs you to come over, that he just needs someone to talk to. you oblige.

knocking on the door, he takes his sweet time. he opens it, doubled over and hobbling. he looks a little green around the gills—but you don’t comment on this. after all, nobody looks good after getting broken up with.

you spend the night with him. he cries on your shoulder, telling you what he did to himself, what she did to him. he tells you that while his stomach is full, his heart is empty. you tell him this is a cheesy thing to say. he gets a little mad at you for not taking him seriously. his gripes turn into moans as he fusses over his distended gut. you laugh a little and start patting his back, telling him he’ll feel better soon. the physical touch between the two of you feels good. a little too good.

without warning the both of you lean into a kiss. you taste the chocolate on his breath. he hums with satisfaction, and before you know it you’re in a full-blown make out sesh. it doesn’t last long before he recoils, queasy belly gurgling.

his stomach (and his heart) hurt. you decide that kissing is too much right now, so you gingerly place a hand on his stomach, rubbing it.

you don’t know what you are to each other now, but it doesn’t seem to matter. all that matters is this moment. this moment of intimacy.

[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

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

I know that this is a cartoon-ass scenario, but god is it a good one:

A person gets ill, and they are part of some circle. Maybe a superhero team, or an adventuring guild, or a group of mercenaries.

They, of course, have to stay off-duty for a few days. One day, they’re feeling a bit better, and they get up to get a glass of water or another box of tissues. They’re on their way back when they hear their friends talking about the day’s work.

However, it isn’t long before they overhear that their friends think a job is much easier without them, or that they could get used to them not being around — all teasing, but it is taken out of context.

Now, the person is not only sick, but their feelings are quite hurt, which makes them feel much, much worse.

Now the rest of the group has to reconcile with and cheer up their friend before they get even sicker.

[transingthoseformers]

Why am i now thinking about the possible correlation between the cybertronians' dynamic with the Quintessons and the popularity of tentacle porn scenarios on cybertronian pornography sites😭😭😭