Summary: read the tags. that’s it, that’s the story. Or: Dorian gets a tattoo of The Iron Bull's name on his arse. And is then tagged in a completely different way.

Allison isn’t sure what, exactly, she was expecting from college, but it wasn’t an instant live-in best friend and an immediate invitation to a party.

This is a mixfill of two prompts! Prompt 1: Jane/Equius - She's a classy blue heiress, he's probably resilient enough to survive surprise dominatrix mode, it could work. Prompt 2: Sharp dressed man, Equius Zahhak Gold watch, diamond ring I ain't missin' not a single thing And cufflinks, stick pin When I step out I'm gonna do you in They come runnin' just as fast as they can 'Cause every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man Equius Zahhak in some very nice clothes, getting undressed later by an interested party and preferably ridden hard to be put away wet. Possibly even at the party in some secluded alcove. C'mon, you know that the boy would be fiiiiiine in a tailored suit. And then it exploded on me and turned into an actual fic, god damn it. Stay tuned.

Jupiter Jones needs a green card. Caine Wise needs a place to live. What's a little marriage of convenience, between strangers? AU based on the movie Green Card.

“I don’t care for that honorifics crap. Well, I guess Ygritte hasn’t told you, did she?” “Told me what?” “What I thought. Just call me Robb. I don’t get off on people calling me titles.” “And what do you get off to then? If I may ask.” “Sure you can. I get off on people trusting me to do right by them. Which means that unless everyone is happy, it doesn’t work for me.” Or: where Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark walk into Ygritte's BDSM club one evening. Calling it good karma is probably an understatement.

The second Jongin realizes what he has done, he panics. Nothing about this is redeemable. He’s not even—he doesn’t think about men like that, and definitely not enough to have accidentally sent a picture of his ass to his straight sunbae. / Jongin is repressed, but his libido isn't.

This has to count as some sort of sexual harassment, right? It’s got to be his idea of a joke, to subject Jiang Cheng to this “massage parlor”…! Massage parlor Jiang Cheng’s left buttcheek, this place is clearly sketchy as hell! If his masseuse doesn’t ask him if he wants a “happy ending” tonight, Jiang Cheng will gladly eat his shoe. -- Jiang Cheng has a Happy Ending

“All you need to do is be a good boy. Can you do that for me?” With Lan Wangji’s eyes covered, Wei Wuxian cannot help but take note of the way it highlights his other features, such as the gentle slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jawline, and his plush full lips, just waiting to be kissed. “Yes,” Lan Wangji replies, a beat quicker than usual. He tilts his head up in a silent request. “Wei Ying?” Wei Wuxian crawls up Lan Wangji’s body until he hovers above him, close but not enough to touch. Despite still being fully clothed, Wei Wuxian can feel Lan Wangji’s bare skin radiating heat. “What do good boys say when there’s something they want?” “...Please.”

Lan Zhan just has a really great rack. Her boobs are huge, and Wei Wuxian has wanted to get her mouth on them since pretty much the moment she first met her. This is not new information. What is new information is that Lan Zhan, of all people, has her nipples pierced. Wei Wuxian knows this now, because she saw them last week, and her brain has been running at about fifty percent capacity since, because how is she supposed to think about anything else?

Lan Wangji is going to die. Lan Wangji is going to die, and it isn’t even a hyperbole; she is entirely ready to collapse in her seat like a marionette with its strings cut off. The vibrator inside her pulses, and Lan Wangji can barely stop herself from lurching forward and letting out a loud groan. She resists a glance at the row of seats behind her; she knows that Wei Ying is there, watching, and she isn’t entirely sure she isn’t going to come at the sight of Wei Ying’s lazy little smirk. Truly—the things Wei Ying has made her do—shameless. (or; Lan Wangji wears a vibrator to class at the behest of her fuckbuddy Wei Ying, and it ends up a lot hotter and more emotional for both of them.)

When Song Lan comes back to the dorm room for the evening, he finds a present on his bed wrapped up just for him.

Defective suppressants and an unwanted heat—it’s Shen Yuan’s worst nightmare. The only solution? Hire a companion-alpha to help him through a tiring week of insatiable need. Sweet, anxious, and all too eager to please, Luo Binghe is not at all what he expects.

A day in the life of one happily married couple: in which Jiang Yanli dresses her husband in lingerie, ties him to the headboard, and pegs him until he comes (multiple times) and cries.

Parenting is hard, but it's especially hard when it's not actually your kid and your sister who raised you died three years ago and you have to deal with your own abandonment issues at the same time as your new kid's abandonment issues and the guy who's raising the kid with you won't stop being a better parent than you. Or: Jiang Cheng has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week of birthday party planning.

Sometimes Jin Zixuan's life is complicated. When it comes to Jiang Yanli, though, things just seem to make perfect sense. Jin Zixuan loves his wife very much, but it is undeniable that she’s a little evil. Considering how terrible her brothers are, he counts himself lucky that her evil manifests, generally, in the form of playful mischief as opposed to, for example, putting beetles in his sheets. Unlike some Jiang siblings he could name.

It feels, sometimes, like Jiang Cheng's waiting to have a bad day so he has an excuse. It’s a Tuesday and Jiang Cheng finds himself huddled under the portico in front of Nie Mingjue’s impressive double-doors, wondering what the fuck he’s doing with his life. He’s drenched to the bone, all of his formal clothes sticking to all of his skin, waiting for someone to answer the door before he freezes to death. Or maybe he’ll just freeze to death! Maybe that’s the option at play here. Considering how the rest of his night is going, he doesn’t think it’d actually be all that surprising.

A generous allowance from his parents or Wei Wuxian in his life: Jiang Cheng would make the same choice a thousand times over, but his grad school stipend is barely enough to support himself, let alone the two of them. An arrangement with an older man might keep his head above water—if he doesn't wade in too deep.

Dick Grayson, the illegitimate son of the king of Gotham, is back. With his loyal armies and followers by his side, Grayson has a throne to claim and scores to settle with his former pack. Specifically, he has unfinished bussiness with the omega brother he'd left behind when he'd departed to seek out his allies.

Marcus’s replacement comes with a mess of blonde curls, big baby blues, soft pink lips, and a spot of acne. He also looks like he’s two years shy from graduating high school. Sharpy says, “He’s eighteen.” Jonny gives him a look. “I checked his birth certificate myself.” Jonny rolls his eyes. “He wrote ‘aggressively bisexual’ in the preferences section of his application.”

Dabi narrows his eyes. "Alright. Let's say you don't die. You still have a limited amount of blood, and a lack of blood flow or oxygen to your brain could probably cause permanent damage that even your immortality can't repair." "I'll stop you before that happens," Hawks says, with way more confidence than he has any right to have. "You have zero self-preservation instincts," Dabi has to point out. Hawks grins at him, shooting him finger guns. "So we doing this, or what?" ~ Dabi is a vampire who's never had human blood straight from the tap before. Hawks is a dumbass college student cursed with immortality. What could go wrong?

Bakugou Katsuki is a camboy trying to make ends meet after he suddenly lost his job and most of his hearing. Touya's just looking for a good time.

The wedding’s going to be tonight, presumably so no one involved has time to get cold feet, which gives Geralt just enough time to clean up and get the dirt off his armor and overthink every tiny little detail of this arrangement.