In which John has a lingerie fetish. Written for the kink meme.

Once Karkat figures out the trick to getting John's attention, it's all smooth sailing from there.

The not so epic romance of Dorian Pavus of the illustrious House Pavus and Hissrad-- more commonly known as The Iron Bull-- of the Ben-Hassrath.

It starts out ironically, of course, but by the time Dave's wearing a corset and a swanky evening dress and Terezi's in a three-piece suit, Jade wants nothing more than to get them both into bed as soon as possible.

Tobirama doesn’t give a damn about gender roles and gender-assigned clothing. Madara really, really doesn’t mind. (Or, Tobirama in thigh-highs and heels. Madara's a fan.)

"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.

Short fics originally posted to my Tumblr, edited and collected here.

It'd be easier to stop, Xiao Zhan thinks, if it wasn't such great sex.

“I dunno, I just—” Tony wrung his hands and dropped his head as tears began to well up, overwhelmed. “I don’t—” “Oh, baby boy,” Steve said. “Why didn’tcha come ‘ta me earlier?” Tony whimpered, frustrated. Steve sighed and began to unbuckle his pants. "Don't ya worry now," he promised, rucking up Tony's dress. "I give it ta you, promise."

Beau was willing to bet that a lot of people's weird superstitions started out like his. Something that had been a dumb bet or stupid competition in college or Juniors, but then fuck if they didn't score that night. So it became a thing, and since enough of them have weird fucking things they'd rather not get chirped about, it just becomes normal. All that said, Beau probably could have braced himself a little better for the inevitable, which was Flower pausing in his rapid-fire and unintelligible conversation with Tanger to grin like the cat that had caught the canary and ask, in the most delighted tone possible, "Sunshine, are you wearing panties?"

Neither Jon nor Robb will ever be what they want to, but Robb will let Jon treat him as such, anyway.

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."