“Facing me or on your knees, commander?” His Jedi asked, sounding a bit breathless. A hot bolt of arousal lanced through Wolffe at the gravelly words. He swallowed. It would probably be more comfortable for the general to remain on his back for the duration of their…activities. (Or Commander Wolffe helps his general with a problem.)

Fox is tired of Granta disappearing every time they turn their backs, so this time he keeps Granta with him when he goes to his office to do flimsiwork.

Sam, Sebastian and Abigail have been friends forever and they might seem weirdly close to other people but all it takes it an impromptu makeover, some teasing words, and a threesome for it to become something more than friendship.

The traditional Flower Dance turned not-so-traditional. New couples finally dance together, new couples form, and sexualities are revealed.

“Bring me the Joker’s head on a platter,” Jason says, and he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. It’s the kind of thing he jokes about when he’s overwhelmed, and he’s overwhelmed by Tim a lot. Tim’s intensity makes Jason turn flippant, makes him counterweigh the seriousness with comments about his own torture and death, like that will somehow lighten the mood. Jason says all kinds of things, for all kinds of reasons. He doesn’t expect anyone to listen.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of being shot from close range, enough that he can still smell gunpowder on his jacket. Maybe it’s the chemicals provided by the Eye of Michael that course through his body, keeping him alive by force. Maybe it’s just Vash, the way he’s so… everything. Full of joy and hope in a joyless and hopeless world. Suffering for others and still putting on a brave face and standing tall for what he believes in. Remorse stabs Wolfwood as he thinks about the impending end of their journey. But for one night, at least, he thinks he wants Vash for himself. *** Vash wants to feel close to Wolfwood after his latest NDE. Wolfwood rocks his world.

“...What are your thoughts on interspecies copulation?” he calls out.

“Can I help you pick something?” Andrew turned, ready to say no thank you and instead froze in place, the purple vibrator held chest height between him and the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen. The tag on his floral shirt read Good Vibrations and just underneath that, Neil. Neil stood there all open and relaxed, a gentle curve of pink lips, unruly auburn hair hovering over sparkling blue eyes. Andrew’s mouth snapped shut. He put the box carefully back on the shelf and walked out of the store without a word.

Neil and Andrew handle press duty, and Neil is asked about his relationship status.

The feeling, this time, is deeper, and his orgasm builds slower. But it almost feels better. Each buzz of pleasure isn’t just felt between his legs—it spreads up his torso and down his arms, tingling in his fingers, and it makes his thighs begin to shake as it slides all the way down to the balls of his feet. His sounds are quieter, but they’re certainly still there. There’s so much happening, and yet he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. He feels calm. Safe. Protected. He feels loved. — Or, Henry is trans, and Alex eats him out until he cries.

Andrew is a sports photographer with terrible coworkers, Neil is a professional Exy player who mixes reporters' tears with his electrolytes, Nicky thinks Andrew needs a boyfriend, and Kevin just wants to stop ending up as their third wheel.

“Wait, it’s my turn,” Allison said, pushing herself further upright. She swayed dangerously, then narrowed her eyes and pointed at Neil. “We’re still targeting him, right.” “Jesus,” Aaron muttered. “Could you guys seriously—” Nicky clapped a hand over Aaron’s mouth. “Yes,” he said. “Definitely. Make the boy drink.” Aaron shoved him off and sulked at the edge of the fire, nursing his drink. “Alright,” Allison said. “I've got it. Never have I ever—told Andrew I love him.”

That Andrew likes Neil being vocal in bed -- that’s a key, and Neil intends to use it. This is something that Neil can give Andrew, a thing Andrew likes, that doesn’t involve touching or crossing boundaries Andrew is not yet ready for Neil to cross. Besides, if Neil is good at anything besides Exy, it’s running his mouth. Or: Neil learns that Andrew "I'm An Instigator At Heart And So Are You" Minyard might just like hearing Neil express not only his consent, but his enthusiasm, when they're in bed.

“When’s the last time a guy made you cum?” “Christ, Alex.” “No, I'm for real. When was it?” Henry groans again, his hand covering his face that is steadily turning pink. “God, I don’t know, maybe a few months ago?” “Hen, you bring so many people home.” “Way to slut shame me.” “No, no, sweetheart, it’s impressive, honestly.” They pause, sitting in comfortable silence. Alex looks like he’s pondering and Henry doesn’t let himself think about what it might mean, instead bringing his glass to his mouth. “Let me make you cum.” OR After a series of bad dates, Alex volunteers to help Henry out a little. It benefits them both, after all .

"Well,” Henry says, measuring his voice carefully, “there’s a first time for everything.” Alex, in reply, screams into a pillow.

Hizashi treats it like a stim toy; absently running his fingers up and down the lips, circling the clit and tapping over the entrance when he starts to feel wetness against his fingertips. He pauses, lifting it to his face and, sure enough, the once dry pink silicone is glistening with slick.

Neil tries to get away from a boring conversation and accidentally ends up asking the most popular guy in school to dance with him at the winter formal.

“Andrew doesn't love me,” Neil said simply, “So if he has a love language, I don't know it.” “Oh, honey.” Allison drawled, “You don't actually believe him when he says he hates you, do you?”

The third time Nicky asks him about it, he says, “I am already dating someone.” This is a lie. Nicky’s face unfurls like a clearing sky, eyes widening and jaw dropping. “You don’t say! Who is it?” Andrew’s mind flies in a thousand different ways, grasping for an answer, a diversion, another lie. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses Neil walking out of the locker room, hair damp and bag slung over his shoulder. “Neil,” Andrew tells Nicky, and Nicky gawps, shocked and famished for more information. “I am dating Neil,” Andrew says. (or: in which Andrew and Neil - due to purely rational, strategical, and beneficial reasons - convince everybody that they are dating)

“Is there a reason you don’t like Neil?” Bee asks him then and Aaron doesn’t understand how the fuck they got onto this when she’s supposed to be fixing him and Andrew. “I don’t trust him,” he says eventually. “All he’s done since he’s got here is cause trouble.” “Well, a lot of that was out of Neil’s control,” Betsy reminds him evenly. “That doesn’t suddenly make him a good person.” “Watch him then.” Aaron startles so much at Andrew’s voice he twists in his chair to stare at him. Andrew hasn’t addressed him directly all day but he’s looking at Aaron now. “You think he’s using me or trying to fuck me over or whatever’s going on in your head- watch him. Watch us for the next week. Stop averting your gaze and pretending it doesn’t exist and then I might listen to what you have to say.”

“I bet the monster will come alone again this year,” he says, his voice scratchy like the sound of a blender in the early hours of the morning. Aaron stiffens beside his brother, shoulders creeping up to his ears before he opens his eyes. He turns to Seth with a sneer. In seconds, Aaron had gone from asleep to fully awake, an anger simmering under the surface of his skin, water boiling over. “I’ll take that bet,” Aaron says, face a blank slate, anger cooling behind his eyes. If this were still college, Aaron would’ve let anger take over, let fists fly. With age, Aaron had learned that there are crueler things than violence. “Five hundred bucks,” Seth replies, eyes sparkling in amusement. He’s got the face of someone who thinks they’ve won. “A thousand,” Aaron counters. Andrew’s eyebrow twitches up imperceptibly, a feeling like a laugh bubbling up his throat. __ In which Neil and Andrew are secretly married.

“Now you get to help me stall them since you almost blew my cover.” Keith shifts in his lap and Shiro’s fingers tighten on his hips. “We gotta act like we’re into public shit. They’re gonna leave otherwise.” Shiro freezes where he’d been mouthing at Keith’s bare shoulder. “I’m serious, Shiro, don’t blow this fucking mission,” Keith hisses. “We’ll deal with this later.”

It's always Andrew's goal to stretch Neil's pleasure to its limits, and he's barely begun to scratch the surface.

Back inside the Maserati, high off life and the music that is Andrew’s laugh, Neil says, “I want to blow you.” The only visible reaction is the way Andrew's pale fingers become even more so as they grip the steering wheel tighter. The open book expressions of most people are found in Andrew between the lines of his eyebrows and the grip of his fists. “Yes or no?” The wooded back roads of South Carolina speed past in the driver’s window beyond Andrew’s profile. Neil can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. A deep breath. "Yes."

“If you’re really sure,” he starts, and Neil nods along. “I could do it.” “Uh,” Neil says, and suddenly his thin sweats and shirt feel far too hot. “What?” “If you want,” Andrew says, looking Neil straight in the eyes, determination burning Neil up inside. “I could help.” “You would—,” Neil says and Andrew doesn’t even wait for him to finish before nodding. “Why?” “You don’t want your first time to be with some frat boy. Trust me, you don’t,” Andrew says. “If you decide sex isn’t for you, you don’t want that to be your only experience. You need someone who’s good.” Neil swallows heavily. “And that’s… you?”

There’s no such thing as perfect compatibility when it comes to sex. Andrew figures Neil is probably the best he’s ever going to get.

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.

“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.

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 (

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.

“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.”

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...

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.

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"