Stiles accidentally finds a trunk full of Derek's professional dom gear from when he lived in New York. They don't talk about it. Then Stiles turns eighteen, and they do.

You try to dress nice. How do you dress nice for a sex club? You have no fucking idea. But you've got the greaser cool guy look down pretty good, and you think it works for you. You wear your tightest t-shirt. You spend like fifteen minutes in front of the bedroom mirror trying to decide which pair of jeans is the most flattering for your glutes. This is your chance.

The last thing Stiles expects when he walks into Lydia’s exclusive S&M club is to rescue a sub who’s obviously been mistreated for a long time. His name is Derek, and when he awkwardly reaches out, asking Stiles to be his Dom, the urge to shield Derek from more pain is too strong for Stiles to resist. But Derek is still recovering from his past and learning how to set boundaries, so they have to take things slow.

A wicked smile slowly spreads across Kent’s face, and he turns to Jack. “What do you say, should I show your boy how to make you cry?”

Dorian rolls onto his side to face him, squinting in the mid-morning light. "You wanted to talk, last night. So talk." "Mm, not like this." Bull cracks his neck, stretches his free arm above his head. Dorian doesn't even pretend he's not watching the muscles shift in Bull's shoulder. "You don't talk about sex in bed."

He feels helpless, and not in the good way. Not in the way he needs to feel, the way that means freedom. Being the Alpha means not getting to feel that anymore.

In order to save his home, The Iron Bull returns to work as a professional Dom for a company known only as Inquisition. Dorian Pavus, known by the code name of Urthemiel within the Inqusition's carefully guarded walls, is considered a difficult client, and placed with The Iron Bull in the hopes that he can help. Together, they build something better than they were before.

"Fifty for an hour," Steve tells her. "Sixty for my mouth." Steve sells the only thing he’s got left and Natasha's buying. She’s not the only one.

The diagrams are maybe Dave's favorite part.

Their first time is messy and awkward, fumbling attempts in the dark with laughter pressed against heated skin. Tsuna doesn’t know what to do with his hands, is so nervous he can’t seem to get hard at all, and Kyoko keeps giggling so hard she accidentally kicks him in the face. They don’t fare much better the second time, or the third. They always seem a step out of beat, never quite lining up, always missing each other. Tsuna always feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, like there’s something in his gut that’s trying to claw out. He keeps expecting his flames to burst out at any second. After a while he realises he’s so used to fighting his body is wired to it as soon as the adrenaline rush hits. And Kyoko is an adrenaline rush.

“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.

Ryan wants to experiment. Shane is more than happy to comply.

Things Eddie Brock flirts with on a regular basis: death, insanity, his ex, his ex’s new boyfriend, and also the alien symbiote that lives inside his body. Not bad for a loser with no game, really.

I wouldn't mind, Mingjue's voice echoes in his mind. If you wanted to be - with him, also. We share everything. au where mingcheng start banging during sunshot, and this fixes a lot of things. life gets more complicated, however, when nie mingjue notices his brother's feelings for his lover.

Of course Tyler knows that intense hockey makes a sub more susceptible to going under, but he hadn't really experienced it much before. Now, when he’s on his knees on the ice drinking beer out of the Worlds trophy that Sidney Fucking Crosby is holding to his mouth, he can recognize the signs. He can feel a haze settling around the edges of his mind, and he’s spent enough time subbing, and drunk, and subbing while drunk, to know which one of those this is.

Geno's a dom and only a dom, Sidney's a sub who doms sometimes but only because people keep asking her nicely, and all their feelings for each other are entirely platonic. Yeah right.

“Bakugou?” Bakugou shuffled on his feet, hovering over Kirishima and looking at the ground with stormy eyes. He glanced up to glare at Kirishima, a silent dare to call him out on his odd behavior no doubt. Kirishima forced himself not to tense. Whatever Bakugou wanted, he was about to show him and Kirishima had to get this right. Bakugou was all about showing and not telling. Kirishima nearly bit his tongue to keep in a squawk of surprise when Bakugou suddenly dropped to his knees next to him, shuffling forward until he could press his forehead to his thigh and hide his face against Kirishima's leg. Kirishima opened his mouth, questions on the tip of his tongue, and he barely managed to catch them before they could be given voice. Bakugou was trembling minutely, his entire frame so tense his muscles were twitching under Kirishima's gaze. “Just. Don't say anything,” Bakugou muttered, hands clenching in his lap tightly. “Please,” he whispered, a short choked sound.

There was a hook in the Cook’s galley floor. Zoro should've ignored it but it's not like he's all that good at keeping his mouth shut around Sanji.

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.