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

Kevin comes to visit Jeremy and Jean in California, and Jean’s body decides it’s the perfect time for him to experience a heat.

"It's just basic coping skills," Jason scoffs. "Have none of you ever met someone with ADHD before?"

It's a generally accepted fact amongst the members of the bat family that Alfred's cookies are the absolute best and that the last cookie is the best of all. The last cookie is coveted and fought over. The last cookie is important. When the Justice League needs to summon the Ghost King and every offering has been rejected, what else is there to try?

Jason knows his thighs are thick as hell ever since the Lazarus Pit cured his childhood malnutrition and he put on fat and muscle as he was able to grow up to his full potential. It makes finding pants that fit a bitch and a half. So, when he feels like making himself feel nice he wears thigh highs. Of course that's right when Dick and Tim have to drop by.

AU in which Anakin is a prostitute on Coruscant, and a mechanic, with an arrangement with the clones. * Master Koon has heard of the young, Force-Sensitive human selling sex in the lower levels. More important, he's heard he dealt with the clones, who notoriously don't have any credits to pay with. And the young commander of his batallion needs to relax a bit...

Trapped and on the verge of being used as a human sacrifice, Jango's fellow prisoner, Obi-Wan Kenobi, managers to talk their captors into an alternate plan which puts Jango far closer to the jedi than he'd ever expected to be.

“If you don’t do something,” Jango threatens, “I'm going to kill you.”

Every step Sanji took, he wanted to die. Every step he took, gods, he felt alive. It was strange, odd, uncomfortable, glorious, his mate's arm around his shoulders, all burly muscle, tucking Sanji under impressive biceps and up against just-as-impressive obliques. You'd think Zoro was an alpha to look at him on a normal day. Broad, head high as always - could he have walked any other way if he tried? - dripping confidence, exuding well-earned ego. And his lover, Sanji, so much narrower, several inches shorter with their carefully chosen shoes, head a little ducked as he smoked through a slim little black filter. "I think I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack." "Good thing I'm here to give you mouth to mouth, cutie."

None of them called him the "ship's omega." It wasn't... really like that. A lot of ships had omega crewmates whose station was defined by their secondary sex, or at the least who joined up knowing what their job was among a shipful of pirates out to sea for weeks at a time. Zoro was not that. He wasn't a friend with benefits or a glorified servant or even one of the so-called Crewman Os who had their own jobs and stations but lay down and made their bodies available when a crewmate needed it. He was just... Zoro.

“It’s a myth.” “It’s not.” “It absolutely is.” “It is not,” Jesper groans. “Well, I've never done it-“ “I’ve never been on time to anything ever, darling, but that doesn’t mean punctuality isn’t possible.”

Tentatively, Suguru swipes his fingers through the slickness on his inner thighs. It’s thick - definitely too thick to be piss - and slightly tacky, sticking to his fingers when he pulls them apart. Inching his fingertips up, he follows the trail of wetness. His fingers graze just below his balls, meeting with a slit that definitely wasn’t there this morning... Pressing his fingers to the slit, he spreads them, revealing a tight, twitching hole and a little pink nub just below the apex of his new folds. A pussy… he has a pussy… Suguru ingests a curse that has some interesting side effects.

Kon is in desperate need of a bit of relaxation. Maybe his method of choice is a little unconventional, but hey, getting fucked until even his Kryptonian biology is exhausted is a harmless way to get there.

“No one told me what prayers to recite,” Johnny forces out, trying to summon the well of anger that usually burns within him when he enters the church. “‘Spose they’re not used to trussin’ up somethin’ that can talk back.” Father Simon says nothing, his footsteps echoing out on the stone; growing louder as he approaches. “I can baa for ya if that’d make it more familiar,” he spits, some remnant of himself flaring and he strains his arms, struggling in vain against the ropes binding his wrists. He follows the hem of his robe as he circles him; his keen eyes heavy as they study the sigils on his skin until he finally comes to a stop behind him. He’s not even to see his death. Johnny curses himself as only now does grief come at being denied a final look into his eyes. Even now, you can’t help but chase sin.

They call Ghost a tease for never posting videos or pictures with him fucking more than his hand; some even offer to buy him a fleshlight, just so they can get the chance to watch his cock in action. None of them know the truth. Ghost's cock doesn't belong to him. Not when he can't use it properly.

The window is open - Hawks can hear the sounds of the busy city thrumming below his penthouse apartment and the cool breeze fluttering the curtains. It feels almost magical to be here, bathed in warmth in the bedroom, only the moon and the low lights either side of the bed illuminating Dabi, staples glinting gold where they catch the light. He’s so very beautiful when he’s like this, breathing a little harder than usual, sweat making the high points of his cheeks glow. Hawks catches Dabi’s gaze as his fingers brush against his spot and he lets out a breathy moan. Dabi makes the same ‘come hither’ gesture, smirking - Hawks wants to drag him so close that their skin melts together and they become one person. He thinks he’d finally be content, then. Dabi pulls his fingers out with a sordid, wet squelch and Hawks wants to punch him instead.

Depending on who you ask, the Reaper is A) a criminal B) a hero C) a lunatic or D) all of the above.

Sometimes Yuri forgets that Otabek is older than him. And not just in the "has four years of seniors on him" way or the "his old-ass body is going to crap out of competition before Yuri’s does" way or the "doesn’t have to go to fucking tutoring everyday because he graduated, the lucky bastard" way. Because, like, yeah, all of that’s true, but on any given day it doesn’t particularly matter. They mostly do all of the same stuff, and know all of the same people, and have the same job, so, like, what’s the big deal, right? Tongues. Tongues are the big deal.

His hand against Jensen's stomach gets the soldier flinching again, at least twice as hard as the one that jolts him when Jared tweezes the first splinter of elysium off of the tray and pierces the skin right at Jensen's hip with it.

Far and away, being an omega is the least interesting thing about Jared.

It's just a thing, a funny little anomaly in his DNA that he has to compensate for. Realistically, there are people out there who are allergic to peanuts and strawberries and gluten - and thus, practically two-thirds of the world's joy - so comparatively, Jensen's always figured he had it easy. But that was before Jared Padalecki.

Three days after he signs his death sentence to Palmetto State, five after Andrew Minyard knocks him breathless to the ground, Neil's gaze snaps to the locker room mirror and stares, frozen, at the word threat scrawled along his spine in terrifying bold. All in all, he isn’t thrilled about the situation this puts him in, but based off the negative connotation, it isn’t one-sided, either. On the bright side, at least this means his soulmate doesn’t harbor any delusions of grandeur.

You want to fuck Neil, Andrew says, like it's nothing.

Jason, on a mission, gets captured. Tim, working undercover, goes to get him out. There's...a side benefit.

Jason's had worse heats. Don't ask him when— but he's sure he's had them.

“Oh, come on. You know I’m half-Kryptonian. I can hear your heartbeat. I could smell you getting wet like a slut and making a mess of your boxers when you saw Tim’s cock.” “Watch your mouth, Lex-brat,” Jason growls dangerously. “I'm pretty sure I'm not the slut here.” Kon gives him the finger. “Come sit on my face and watch it yourself, coward.”

“Baby, you have no idea how this is going to play out,” Tim murmurs, voice a low rumble that makes Jason shiver with arousal. He casts Tim a dark, challenging look, and growls back, “Try me.”

Two days after they received word of a Frey girl joining Robb Stark at Moat Cailin and riding off north with him, a ship from the Stormlands arrived, and Tyrion went down personally to meet it. Or rather, to meet the man coming off of it: one Selwyn of Tarth.

To be clear, Cassie is Wonder Girl. Very much so is she Wonder Girl. She likes being called that; she likes being called “she”. She likes being Amazon-adjacent enough to almost count as a sister to Themyscira. She doesn’t always like . . . other things associated with being Wonder Girl, though. Or even being a girl at all. Anyway, that’s why she just broke two pairs of scissors trying to get her stupid fucking hair to just fucking cut already in one of Titans Tower’s communal bathrooms. One of the girls’ communal bathrooms, which isn’t really helping how she feels right now.

They leave the office, Mai pretending that all her senses aren’t full of Zuko’s warm, spicy scent, and he keeps looking worried. She wonders if it’s this he’s worried about, now that she’s thinking about it. They agreed they’d share their next cycles together, but again, they haven’t really talked about it. They can talk about it now, Mai thinks. Unfortunately, that means now they actually have to talk about it.

There’s something strange about the bounty hunter the marks hired for this job, but Granta can't quite put his finger on it.

The problem is, there are too many Alpha's. Too many Alpha's on the League, and too many Alpha's at home. But Bruce, as always, has a plan to fix that.

“I happen to think that I would like to see you in my bed. I’m also not in the habit of forcing people into it. If you wish to leave, the door is right behind you. I will also inform you that no one who was in my bed ever regretted it.” Or: where Oberyn seduces the hell out of Jaime.

Wade turns to find a very wide-eyed Peter sitting on his couch, freshly showered and fully at home-away-from-home, which would be great if Wade had any clothes on. Scrambling buck-ass-naked through the window of his own apartment was not how he intended to come out to Spiderman, but well, these sorts of things just happen to him. Gotta look into acid proof suits. “Heya Spidey,” Wade says because, well, nothing to be done about it now. He holds his arms out looking down at his own body, and well—yeah, that’s still a sight, ain’t it? “Sorry, pal, didn’t mean to shaft the funhouse onto you unawares. Get it? Shaft?” (Peter sees Wade naked and they jump into this head first. Pun intended.)

"You're so fucking stubborn," Hood says. "It's infuriating." Red bristles, but fighting's like foreplay when he's got this much adrenaline. "Yeah?" He taunts. Can't help himself. Hood's grip around his wrist tightens, and it only serves to remind Red how fucking strong he is. Red's pulse somehow gets even faster, beating in his ears so loudly that he isn't sure how Hood doesn't hear it. "Yeah," Hood agrees. Tim's watching his mouth as it forms the words. "It drives me fuckin' crazy, babybird."

Jason's plan to meet and school his replacement is going great, until it isn't. Tim Drake isn't exactly what Talia told him… he's better.

“Welcome to Red Hood’s Apothecary,” Jason says, coolly. “What can I do for you?” The stranger comes up to the counter, and Jason shudders. The man is short and slim, but there’s an aura of power around him that calls to Jason’s demonic nature. That can only mean one thing. Witch. And one trained by someone skilled. In fact, Jason is pretty sure that he recognizes Bruce's style all over the guy's warded clothes. Acid bubbles in his belly. His replacement has no business looking so good.

"Timmers sucked me pregnant," Jason blurts, and Tim watches in morbid fascination as Bruce goes through the five stages of grief in a millisecond. "I thought you said you weren't… sleeping together," Bruce says reproachfully. "He means that I, uh, impregnated him with my teeth. When I drank his blood. No sex involved," Tim explains. "It was an accident. I didn't even know I could do that."

Tim knew his evening would be interesting—going undercover as a woman always is. Still, he didn’t expect ‘interesting’ to include getting fucking propositioned by Jason Todd.

When Jason leaves the League, Dick Grayson is the furthest thing from his mind. He has Talia’s blessing and a step-by-step plan to make Bruce pay as well as to rid his city of the Joker. There’s no place in his thoughts for quippy acrobats, not when his every waking hour is tinted green with dreams of revenge. He doesn’t think that anything can possibly break through his single-minded focus… Then he catches footage of Nightwing fighting thugs on the streets of Blüdhaven with none of his usual grace. Fuck, but he can’t leave Dick behind to fend for himself. Not when he can’t be sure that Dick will survive long enough to still be around by the time Jason is done dealing with Bruce.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm not much of a hunter when I'm not fighting crime," Dick replies with a rueful grin. "Hunter?" Tim tilts his head to the side with a frown. "Right. I guess I should have specified since we’re both Os." His lips curl back to show his fangs. "I don't want you to chase me, Wing. I want to chase you."

All in all, their arrangement lasts for a few months. Months of filthy fucks, cutting words, and hasty walks of shame. Months without Tim letting Jason kiss him once. Months of Jason staring at the ceiling in soiled, cooling sheets after Tim's departure, gut-wrenching loneliness and self-loathing burning in his chest. Until one day, the dam breaks.

Jason comes across Tim on a covert mission, and in order to keep up the disguise, the two end up in a rather compromising but enjoyable position. What's more shocking to Jason though, is when Roy asks Jason to bring Tim home for the night, when the mission is done.

Tiny Tim: all i want is for someone with a monster cock to fuck my brains out until im drooling, is that too much to ask? He sets his phone down and makes it about 5 seconds into reorganizing the granola bar shelf before realizing his fatal error. With a feeling like ice water being poured down his back, Tim snatches his phone back up and has to input his password 3 separate times before he calms down enough to type it correctly. Oh. Fuck. Tim is mentally adding this whole situation to the Top 10 List of Worst Things That Have Happened to Him Ever when he sees a new notification come in, not from one of the group chats this time. Jason Todd: wanna fuck? Or, Tim accidentally sends a text message to the wrong group chat, but it all works out in the end.

“Why are there reporters-” Dick stopped. His eyes locked on the TV. “Oh, look at that Drake- you’re trending on social media.” Damian offered far too coolly to be any form of casual. XxX In which Tim's nudes get leaked online and he is surprisingly casual about it

(573): his pick up line was "wanna get a pizza and fuck?" (314): did it work (573): that's not the point...

“I’m fine,” Tim says - audibly, with his mouth and everything. Jason stares at it. “You sure?” Jason asks, tamping down the strain of panic rising in his chest. He’s pretty sure they’ve got a telepathy situation on their hands, and he fucking hates those. He’s not even beginning to think about the… content of the telepathy.

Tim gets off on getting off in public, and Jay happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. …Or, actually, maybe it's exactly the right place at the right time.

Tim and Cass (and to a lesser extent, Steph) share everything. That’s just a fact. Clothes, safe houses, gear, food, showers, toothbrushes— —and sexual partners.

Maybe it was because he didn’t have time to read the gossip columns; maybe it was because he seriously underestimated the audience’s power to “Ship It”, but Bruce didn’t *immediately* cotton onto the fact that his scheme made half the country think that his son was in love with, well, his *other* son.