Eve was not the best person in the world. Sometimes she didn’t hold the elevator open when she saw people rushing to catch it from the other side of the lobby. Cutting the line at Starbucks was a semi-regular action. But Eve did not deserve to be Neil fucking Josten's publicist. ********** Or, the one where Neil does what he wants, picks fights with reporters, discovers Twitter, breaks the internet, and really shouldn't be allowed out of his house. Andrew does nothing to discourage him.

Jean doesn't have his soulmark anymore.

"You paid for the deluxe package," Neil says as he scrolls through his payment history to find his client's invoice. His system is simple: Basic Package: Fuck you. A general statement of displeasure and a brief description of the wrongdoing. Intermediate Package: Fuck you, with passion. Everything in the basic package, but with additional insults. Customizable for an extra fee. Deluxe Package: Fuck you to hell. Everything from the first two packages, for an extended period of time, and with extra viciousness. And it looks like Andrew Minyard is the unlucky soul today.

After years of fighting for his own independence, Jean can't stand to watch other people around him be steamrolled. It especially bothers him when it comes to Jeremy, his overly upbeat regular. Jeremy’s date doesn’t seem to notice the way Jeremy stills, and Jean can already see where this is going. Jeremy has been coming to the cafe ever since Jean started working there, and while at first he was just another customer, once this trend of copious (awful) dates became apparent... It was hard to ignore him.

Sin settles later than most. It’s not until Mary dies that she finally does settle. Neil looks away from the car, dazzled by firelight and the sense memory of her daemon breaking apart, and finds silvery speckled fur with jet-black points and reddish eyes the same colour as Nathaniel Wesninski’s hair. Just like that, he knows she won’t shift again.

Neil is a Vixen, not a Fox. He and Andrew still find each other.

After being photographed together, Neil and Andrew decide to roll with the rumors that they're dating.

Hizashi is spiralling; his hero career is on the brink of collapse, no radio station will give him a shot and he isn’t sure how much more he can take. When people start turning up beaten half to death, they lead him to an underground quirk fighting ring. Could it be the big break he needs to save his career or will the mysterious Referee show him something better?

“𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛! 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦’𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚! ;)”

Whenever Soap messes up on a mission he needs to repent, he needs to be punished. It’s been like that ever since he started Military. He’s made a habit out of finding himself the biggest, meanest Doms he can find, so when he meets Ghost he thinks he’s hit the jackpot. Little does he know that Ghost is the softest Dom — a pleasure Dom at that — so when something inevitably goes wrong and Soap begs for a punishment, for a hard, degrading fuck, he’s only met with softness.

“Geralt, it’s not what it looks like.” “Really?” he asked. He clenched his jaw before offering a sharp, mirthless smile. “Because it looks like you got caught fucking the mayor’s wife, and now I’m not getting paid!” “Well,” he laughed nervously, looking anywhere but up. “When you put it that way.” In which Jaskier suggests a chastity device to prove himself a worthy travel companion, and of course, gives Geralt the key.

The best thing about the SEP, if you had to ask Gabriel, was the fact that it not only boosted his aptitude for combat and made him an even better soldier than he was before, but it also brought Jack Morrison into his life. While he wouldn't say he had a fetish for catfolk specifically, the fact that the SEP also worked wonders on enhancing the cat-like qualities of their catfolk soldiers wasn't exactly something that helped Gabriel's fascination with his roommate’s (who later became his lover-then-husband) nature either.

“So--what’ya say? Make a deal with me?” “Only fools deal with dragons lightly.” “Guess I’m a fool.”

In which Joseph is weak-willed for a man of God, Craig is unintentionally (but totally intentionally) a tease, and Mary is just supportive of these two idiots.

Jack Morrison is a patient man. He can’t afford to be anything less, not in his line of work. War is a lot of brutal moments of adrenaline followed up by a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. He’s honed patience since he was a kid, sharpening it to a skill he finds useful the more power he has given to him. However.

Garp is old and wondering if this is how the bloodline will end when he gets a call from his quite frankly horrified sounding son. They talk. or. "The Monkey D Family is an odd phenomenon because nobody knows how they reproduce a child" said moonelnone on tumblr, "#they just disappear for awhile and they suddenly have a child" moonelnone also said (

Craig needs to loosen the fuck up and damn if Robert isn't the King of Relaxation. How he does it might be a little...unorthodox, but really, who's gonna judge them all the way out here?

“All right,” Ned Stark says. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. No one was supposed to, but I guess it’s my own damned fault for not keeping it to myself. Now, I know that if I told you to forget this you’d try, but I remember – I remember how it was when I was your age, myself. Boys of seven can forget that kind of promise easily, if they don’t know why they’re making it.” He takes in another breath. “Robb,” he says, his voice dropping so low it’s barely audible, “do you love your brother?” Or: in which Robb knows about Jon's true heritage all along.

in which Ned doesn't die but wargs into one pigeon instead. Incidentally, it doesn't stop him from preventing a war and saving both his family and the entirety of Westeros.

in which Tommen discovers a new favorite band, Tyrion pays Jaime a favor, Jaime gets to reconnect with at least one of his children, Brienne is a responsible adult who might want to act up on a few fantasies, Loras and Renly are pro enablers and everyone is down with some healthy dismissal of gender roles.

The maddening thing is: Jaskier is almost sure that Yennefer knows, except that he can’t be too sure that she does, except that all evidence points in that direction, except that outright asking her is completely out of the fucking question, except that whenever she talks to him lately she has that glint in her eyes that promises nothing good, except that - Yeah, except that he could ask, but he has a feeling that going to your best friend’s slash boss’s slash former-idol-of-his-teenage-years-that-he’s-had-more-than-a-crush-on-for-years girlfriend and ask her straight hey, by the way, I have a feeling that you know that I write fanfic about the two of you in my spare time and for that matter I’m actually good enough at it that I have a thousand Ao3 subscriptions, and everyone wonders how my characterization is this good is… not… really a good idea. Or: in which Jaskier, as Geralt's social media manager, has resuscitated the man's career and landed him a girlfriend, so what if he incidentally also writes RPF for the both of them on the side? That is, until they invite him to join them.

Fuck, what has he done until now? Told Geralt… nice things because he thought that he’d like to hear them and was proved right about it, on top of it? One day he’ll have a long chat with Geralt about how much his previous partners had no taste. Right now, though — “What,” he asks, moving closer, “that you’re lovely?” Geralt… doesn’t flinch, not exactly, but a few more tears fall down, and — “You don’t have to lie if —” “I’m not,” Jaskier interrupts him at once, letting his hands go to grasp his face, pressing their lips together to try and start making his point. “Fuck, you are lovely, other than drop-dead handsome, but then again I haven’t been staring at you like that for months for nothing.” Or: in which it turns out Geralt does have a praise kink that hits him harder than he'd thought. Jaskier is more than glad to indulge in it.

“Excuse me,” Tywin Lannister grits through his teeth, “my son is doing what?” Stannis tries to not sigh loudly. It would not do in front of the Hand of the King. “You have the raven, my lord. He says he wishes to resign from the Kingsguard as he has not been here for a full year and does not plan to come back, and that he’s perfectly happy roaming the Stormlands and the Trident along with the last Evenstar.” “The last Evenstar.” “Yes.” “The abomination.” Stannis shrugs. “Technically she is one, but I can assure my lord Hand that she is actually quite competent to discuss with.” He’d know. She had better ideas for actually helping the commoners than most of his advisors. He wishes he could make her one. “Competent. She’s an abomination.” “She’s a useful one,” he shrugs. “Also, your son does not seem to agree.” Or: in which Jaime goes to Tarth to slay a supposed monster terrorizing the Stormlands to do something honorable with his life. It doesn't go like that at all.

“I am really dreaming, then,” he croaks, wishing his lungs didn’t feel like they were about to crack into a thousand shards. “Oh, but you’re not,” Robb says, his hand going to Theon’s cheek, as rough and warm as he remembers it, and he can’t – oh, surely he must be dreaming and whatever gods exist hate him because it can’t be true, it can’t be real – “But I am,” Robb nods. “Real, I mean.” “You can’t be.” “You tried to kill the Night King with arrows,” Robb smiles, “you completely crazy idiot, and you think that there’s much that can’t be real, around here? Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” “You won’t be waiting for me in one of the Seven Hells, Robb,” he croaks. “No,” Robb says, “because that’s not where you’re going. Rest.” Or: in which Theon doesn't die and Robb doesn't stay dead either.

“May I ask what does Your Highness mean with… being otherwise involved?” Oberyn sends him a look that makes Loras’s knees go weak. “Well, Ellaria met this one girl in the harbour the other day. Commanding an Ironborn warship or something like that. And they… did like each other.” He shrugs. “She isn’t really the kind of woman I fancy, but as I said, we don’t begrudge each other the occasional straying. Unless we both like them, of course.” “Of course,” Loras replies. “Which means that she… won’t be here?” “No,” Oberyn replies, “most likely for a couple of days. Are you asking just out of curiosity?” “Maybe,” Loras answers, his throat feeling still fucking dry, “it’s not curiosity. But… I think Your Highness should like to stray with me, or have I understood wrong?” Or: in which Oberyn doesn't lose his duel and Loras goes to Dorne instead of staying in King's Landing.

Shang Qinghua peeked over his shoulder. “My king, ah, I’m really embarrassed.” “What are you embarrassed…” Mobei Jun started, eyes trailing down Shang Qinghua’s neck, stopping obtusely at his chest. Where Shang Qinghua was once flat, it now seemed that he had developed two round hills. -- In which Shang Qinghua plays around with his cultivation and encounters a slight problem. Of course, Mobei Jun is eager to help his husband.

“Brienne of Tarth, yes. I always was better at swordfighting than at about anything else, and — we could say every time he tried to marry me to someone, it went sour.” Her eyes cloud for a second, then she shakes her head. “Then it happened that before he died, Asha Greyjoy showed up at our island for a diplomatic visit.” “I imagine my lady found her an inspiration?” Jaime says, starting to guess where this is going. “Maybe I did. And don’t call me like that. Everyone here likes to, but I’m no lady and I never was. Anyway, she… gave me a new perspective. When the King saw fit to inform me I should come to court so they could find me a marriage, I thought I’d ignore his missive.” “And become a pirate?” “Tarth is in an excellent position for raids,” she says, “and I don’t attack anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Which brought me to the conclusion that if I am to be all tied up in your quarters for the entire night at least, then you must have decided your prize would not be the loot.” Then he winks again and oh. Oh. Brienne is about to shut him up and say that she would fucking never — she knows she’s ugly and she’s known that throughout her entire life, in between Sister Roelle and every single man she’s met since the age of six. She felt sick when those assholes in Nassau bet on whoever would manage to fuck her when she was putting together a crew and only had a ship and her father’s money to her name, and she would never take for a prize like that someone who’d have no choice about it. She’s about to tell him that if he thinks she’d stoop that low to have someone warm her bed he’s wrong and she’d rather have no one at all instead, but she’s not fast enough, because he goes on, and — “To which I say, go ahead and take it.”

“Auntie Pezza, or Percy if you’re boring,” Pez grinned, gesturing to themself before their hand moved towards Henry, “Hen, Henry if you’re boring, or His Royal Highness Prince Henry if you’re really boring.” “Oh shit, like the Prince of England, Prince Henry?” His eyebrows shot up and he grinned, “I didn’t expect you to be…” “Gay?” “Hot,” He snorted, looking Henry up and down in a way that made him feel like a piece of meat. He didn’t particularly dislike it, “I’m Alex. First Son Of The United States, if you’re boring.” Pez laughed, and Henry let himself crack a grin before speaking, “Punk FSOTUS? Didn’t expect that one, I can’t lie.” OR Prince Henry meets Alex, the First Son Of The United States, at a very boring upper-class party, and spends the next few months planning to get this man into his bed.

5 times and places Neil Josten squirting was an inconvenience (but didn't kill the mood).

Soap is masturbating and gets caught by Ghost, they fuck about it.

“- I just… It’s my thighs.” “I love your thighs,” Alex shrugged, “It’s… they’re big.” “I know,” Alex grinned, his tongue tracing his bottom lip almost like a reflex, “They're really strong. It’s hot.” Henry kicked at his leg from where it was hanging off the sofa and relished in the pained hiss the brunette let out, “What I mean is that… they’ll…” “They’ll?” Alex urged, quirking an eyebrow as Henry groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “They’ll crush your big stupid head.” “Please Henry,” Alex murmured, “Want you to sit on my face.” OR Alex wants his boyfriend to sit on his face. That's basically the fic.

“You’re trans,” Alex said, not a question, a statement. “Yes,” He said firmly, his arms moving to cross over the binder that’d stopped Alex in his tracks, “I assumed you knew, because of the club and would be fine with it-“ “Wait-“ Alex’s mind was spinning and he was trying to find the words, but Henry just kept talking. “-But maybe I was wrong. There are plenty of cis guys who don’t want to sleep with trans people-“ “-Henry-“ “-I just thought you were better than that,” He snapped, reaching for his shirt before Alex grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No- Henry, wait. I just…” And in a moment of panic, he tugged off his own shirt, bringing the fabric over his head and revealing the matching scars on each side of his chest. Henry’s eyes widened and he straightened up, “I thought… I thought you knew. I just, I didn't know you were…” OR T4T Firstprince...

There's a heatwave in Gotham and Tim is suffering. Danny's there to lend a helping hand, but uh. Tim grabs hold. And won't let go. This could be a problem, but Danny's just gonna roll with it and see what happens. Maybe he'll even get a very hot guy's number at the end of the day.

“Yes, Lord Stark has come to town to help his mother bring out his eldest sister,” Tyrion said, pouring Jaime a glass of wine. “I understand he also plans to take his seat in the House of the Law. His uncle Edmure has been gathering time for him to give his maiden speech.” “Yes, yes,” Jaime said irritably. “That’s not what matters and you know it. Well?” Tyrion sighed. “He's nineteen, well-favored, and as far as I know, neither demented nor stupid. And not a hint of a betrothal. Sorry.”

There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival. —Thornton Wilder

Really, Robb doesn't mind that Theon wants everyone to think he tops. He probably should, but he loves Theon too much for it to be a problem. He does have one problem though: That Theon won't.

It had never occurred to Jaime once, in the three solid months he’d spent in the pen, that Robb Stark could make his imprisonment worse by giving him a bath, a warm bed, and some decent food to eat.

“How long has it been since someone else made you cum?” Alex asked, his head tilted to the side, cutting Henry off when he began to open his mouth, “That doesn’t include you having to touch yourself or having… Mechanical help.” Henry winced at that, the vivid memory of Alex sheepishly knocking on his door and relaying that he could, in fact, hear the loud, incessant buzzing of Henry's vibrator from his room across the hall flashing through his head, “I don't know. Maybe like… Fuck, maybe never?” Alex’s eyes widened for a second, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn't find the words, “Are you kidding?” OR Henry is trans and has quite literally never had a good lay in his life... Alex is completely and utterly in love with him and certainly eager to help.

Henry had a secret. It wasn't some world-ending secret that would get him shunned from society or abandoned by all his friends, but it was a secret nonetheless. Erotica. It was his guilty pleasure. His hobby. Books full of lewd words and mouth-watering phrases that made his hand press down against the front of his slacks and brought his bottom lip between his teeth. It was his porn, his thing. He liked the imagination, liked the way the words twisted on the page and that it didn't need to be realistic because you didn't need to watch it happen. He let his mind conjure up the images as his eyes scanned the text. OR Alex finds Henry's erotica...

“I don’t have a small dick, idiot,” Alex openly laughed, a stark contrast to Henry’s quiet, reserved chuckle, “I have no dick.” Henry stared at him for a moment and Alex just looked back at him, taking a sip of his drink. “Funny,” he said with a flat voice, indicating that he did not, in any way, find it funny. “Well,” Alex moved to clarify, tilting his head to the side for just a moment, “I supposed I do. But it’s currently tucked away in my hotel room. And I’m not sure if you count t-dicks in what you’re referring to.” “I… don’t know what that means.” Alex laughed again, shaking his head this time, “Of course you don’t.” “Shall I google it?” And Alex couldn’t help but egg him on. “Oh, definitely. When this event is over, you should open up your laptop, pull up that special website you go to for your alone time and type ‘T-Dicks’ into the search bar. I promise it won’t disappoint.” OR Henry does as Alex suggests... and Alex is obsessed with how Henry looks when he falls apart. Lots of sex ensues.

He is almost embarrassed that the Ton is viewing with what raptures Kate has him in simply through her intoxicating scent of lilies, her slight touch, and her quick wit. Almost. When she is to be his wife.. she can have Anthony at her mercy, with no vicious mamas or gossip-mongering pamphlets or ridiculous courtship requirements of polite society to hinder them. Anthony is feeling anything but polite. She’d hold her tulips while he serviced her, goddammit! Oh, how he wants… he groans inwardly at the thought.

Aizawa is more than a little stressed as he begins the transition from full time hero to teacher.

“Poor thing,” he croons, patting over his pussy like he’s consoling it, not him and fuck that shouldn’t make him drip; the wet sound echoing in his ears. “Just want attention, don’t ya? Dumb fucks here don’t know what they’ve been given. Should be fuckin’ lined up to put you in your place.” Johnny’s skin heats and he can only hope it doesn’t spread far enough down for him to see as he shifts restlessly on the bed. “Big talk fer a man behind a wall,” he spits. “Harsh words for a slag flashin’ ‘is cunt,” he shoots back.

An full length ficlet extension of my tumblr headcanon which ends with Andrew revealing Neil has a neck fetish on live television. -- Written for the anon who asked: omfg can i pleASE get an extension of the last part of your andreil and subtle touches headcanon? the part where andrew's like "josten has a fucking neck fetish"

Ever since he’d come out to his devout Roman Catholic family, Johnny had been told he was going to Hell. Seeing Simon “Ghost” Riley on his knees in front of him, looking like Lust incarnate, has him thinking Hell suits him far better than Heaven anyway. His blonde hair catches the fluorescents like a halo, and Johnny now knows exactly what the legends meant when they said the devil has angelic eyes. OR: Johnny needs proof that the aphrodisiac drug sample they're retrieving is real, so he tests it the only way he can with the resources he has: on himself. It's real, alright - he figures that out pretty quick.

The 501st and the 212th discover the GuardNet, a dark net site for social media for the Coruscant Guard. It's just the Guard, nothing weird posted there. Right?

After Neil runs his mouth on Kathy Ferdinand's show, he strikes a bargain with Andrew and finds out there's more to the monster than he originally thought.

Nora mentioned in her extra content that Neil slowly maps out Andrew's body and then this fic happened. Starts after The King's Men.

Five times Jeremy didn't understand the relationship between Jean and Neil Josten, and the one time he figured it out.