Adam opens Down The Rabbit Hole when he's twenty-six. It's sort of a last-ditch attempt to do something with his life and when Patricia, the sweetest lesbian around, had told him she was selling her bar (which was literally an underground bar, totally awesome), he'd pounced on the opportunity.

Patrick loves the tentacle beds. Bob is not so sure.

"You can't make a sub the military commander of Atlantis," Ford said.

You're going to leave the toybox in the closet tonight, because you are fairly certain that you can ruin him six ways to Sunday without even a pair of fuzzy handcuffs to back you up, and you really don't want to give the poor guy an aneurysm or something.

CG: I'VE SPENT ALL AFTERMIDNIGHT PACING UP AND DOWN MY NEW BLOCK IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR. THE ONLY REASON I HAVEN'T YET PACED MY WAY TROUGH THE WHOLE SHIP IS THAT IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE FUCKING ERIDAN. CG: WHADDYA THINK OF A CAPE? DOUCHEY, RIGHT? CT: D--> I would most strenuously advise against it. It would only obstruct the sharp lines guiding the eye to the waist of your exquisitely tailored jacket. CG: YEAH, I LIKE HOW THE JACKET CUTS SHORT RIGHT OVER THE TIGHTEST WHITE PANTS KNOWN TO TROLLKIND TOO. BE A SHAME TO HIDE THAT. CT: D--> That wasn't CT: D--> I mean CT: D--> I was merely admiring the craftsmanship. CG: YEAH, THAT KIND OF SKILL IS WORTH BEING ADMIRED. I SWEAR TO FUCK THERE'S AN ASS-LIFTING TRICK SEWN RIGHT IN. BUTT-WONDERBRA. MY TUSH IS ALREADY PRETTY GOOD USUALLY BUT DEAR LORD, *I'D* DO ME.

duosthefangirl asked: College AU where Karkat and Equius are dating and Karkat ends up accidentally admitting that he loves Equius' hair to the point of it nearly being a kink. mixed with Anonymous asked: Equikat, everyone’s a dom or sub AU.

Brian has hidden his submissive orientation most of his life out of necessity more than desire and he's been fine. Really. Until he meets Dominic Toretto then fine doesn't really fit the situation anymore. A BDSM-universe AU of The Fast and the Furious.

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.

Equikat, everyone's a dom or sub AU. -- The thing with Equius is, he's huge, and he's ripped, and he has a low, carrying voice, and he's bossy as fuck. Before he started wearing Karkat's collar he let people who were not directly concerned assume whatever they wanted out of his hearing, and he never came back home weary, never went straight to Karkat's desk to kneel there at his feet, silent and drawn in and waiting for a hand to caress his hair like he was a statue on the verge of crumbling into dust and only Karkat's touch might ward off that fate.

Dorian enjoys being fingered while Bull watches television and Bull certainly has no complaints.

One might think that after spending six years serving as a Galaxy Garrison senior officer, leading dozens of dangerous missions into enemy territory, personally overseeing the deaths of Zarkon’s highest generals, and getting his arm blown off only to be replaced by a weaponized prosthetic against his will, Shiro would be prepared for anything the Universe threw at him. He was not prepared for Keith and Lance.

Their first date is objectively pretty great. But later, when Bucky comes after Steve slides inside him and slaps him on the ass, Steve knows this is going to be fun.

There's a low chuckle from behind them, and the bedsprings creak as Kakashi sprawls out, half-reclined as he watches them with heavy-lidded eyes. “You know,” he says easily, “of all the perks I expected as Hokage, this definitely wasn’t one of them.” “Threesomes with other Kages?” Utakata asks, dragging his fingers up Zabuza’s spread thighs, and those golden eyes don’t waver from Zabuza’s, intent and hot even if he sounds like he’s just making polite conversation. Kakashi chuckles. “I meant access to your own personal harem,” he says lightly. “But that too.”

Xiao Xingchen’s hip jerked toward the wand, but against the wide fix of the spreader bar between his knees, he had little leverage. Song Lan just moved the wand with him.

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

Mingjue’s thumbs stroke gently against the wings of his shoulders as he leans in, setting his mouth to Jiang Cheng’s ear. “Qingqing wants this, too. All three of us. You, me, her.” A shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s spine; he’s dizzy, breath coming too fast, and he’s shamefully hard just from this, his erection trapped against the edge of the sink. “Would you like that, Cheng-di? It’s fine if you don’t, but if you do –” “Yes.” The word rasps out of him, echo-y and desperate. “I want that.”

“Let’s play a game,” Xingchen says. Song Lan and Xue Yang share a look.

Mingjue’s first thought is: generic. This is entirely Huaisang's fault, the product of listening to far too many rants about the failings of modern men’s fashion. Lan Xichen looks like he’s stepped out of a diagram labelled “Business Casual.” Mingjue’s second thought is: pretty.

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.

Having a crush on your roommate is really embarrassing, except that's apparently the opposite of a problem. Jiang Cheng can't deny that's pretty convenient. Wei Ying holds it up, a series of straps and buckles and velcro and wow, really a lot of leather. It has absolutely no conceivable form beyond tangled. Nie Huaisang opens the door at exactly the moment that Wei Ying holds the thing up to Jiang Cheng’s chest, as if he’s trying to imagine how exactly it would fit onto a person, and it falls into a tangled pile between them while they stare at Huaisang in mild mortification.

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.”

Apparently bad things really did come in threes, Bakugou thought wryly, as the firefighter closed the distance between them. Tall, tan, and jacked as hell, he was a strong contender for the single hottest person Bakugou had ever seen in his life. He was covered in soot and sweat that contoured his ridiculous muscles, making them look even more defined, and his clinging black tank top didn’t do much to hide the rest of him, either. His strong cheekbones and jaw had smears of black on them too, and Bakugou had the absurd thought that he wanted to lick them clean. Bakugou didn’t think it was possible, but he felt himself turning even redder. He would barely have been able to talk to someone as attractive as him on a good day, and he was about to have to explain to him that he’d tried to burn down his fucking house because he was being petty on Twitter. Super.

Kaminari is going through a messy divorce, which has led to sending transcripts of his texts with his ex to his attorney. Shinsou is the attorney’s legal assistant, who has to go through said transcripts and black out all the explicit pictures before they can appear as exhibits in court. Reading through the sexts though, and they are GRAPHIC, Hitoshi starts to agree with the ex: he ALSO wants to ‘come on Denki’s tits’ and ‘shove his cock so far down Denki’s throat he’s coming directly into his stomach’.

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.

“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.

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