"The most he'd ever cared about anything remotely related was his uniform, which, beyond the stylistic, was pretty necessary. But now his suit comes from a lab far more advanced than the basement of a Brooklyn antique shop, and the only decision he really gets to make is if his pants are too tight. (They were, but he doesn't really think they changed them. He doesn't know why, but he thinks that might have been on purpose.) That being said, he doesn't know what he's done to deserve the double take Tony gives him as he walks in the room."

How to corrupt a superhero without really trying.

Making a dick joke was a strategic error. You put the subject on the metaphorical table. You're now thinking about troll dick.

Geno is sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for why Sidney has a dresser drawer full of sex toys, but right now he's drawing a blank.

After the rave, Stiles can't go home, and Derek doesn't want him to.

Stiles gets a massage. And then some. Alternatively: in which Stiles' mouth gets him into trouble, again and again.

You feel the shift in the air behind you as someone else approaches, but you don't get up. You'll waste anyone who tries to fuck with you right now. "Hot damn," says a voice almost but not quite like Terezi's. "Double trouble, huh?" Your dancestor snickers, and you look up as dancestor Pyrope swaggers around into view.

Eric’s always been pretty discreet about hooking up with people, Cam can’t remember ever actually seeing him leave with anyone on these team outings. Most of the time he seems perfectly content to hang out with the team, hang out with Cam, even though he could hook up with just about anyone easily enough. Very easily, Cam thinks, a little grimly, as Eric ducks his head a little and the lights catch in his hair.

You spend the hours after you wake up pacing your hive, your stomach threatening to upturn and your bulge threatening to unsheathe. You're excited to the point that you're dripping with more than just sweat, yes, but you're also beyond nervous. Besides what you assume are the usual worries -- what if he doesn't show up, what if he takes one look at your butlerbot and is so unimpressed -- there's also the tiny little fact that you've never done any of this before. At all.

Sollux has two wriggling gifts for Karkat. The first is a traditional Wriggling Day present, complete with wrapping and bow. The second one wriggles in an entirely different manner.

Somehow, Scott managed to wind up on the wrong end of a genderswapping spell. Turns out, it's not a completely bad thing.

Aqualad has no idea what he's in for.

Stiles doesn't think it's a problem. After all, what are the odds that it'll come after him? It's not like he's the only virgin left in Beacon Hills! And it's not like people are lining up to help him out, either...

It startles him to see a human shape on his altar tonight.

"After multiple times of people trying to use him as a virgin sacrifice, Tim decides it's time to lose his V-card. Enter Kon-el."

Sam folded his arms and glared at him. “Okay, you know what, now I’m starting to think you’re not even trying.”

Stiles didn't choose to give his life to the unicorns, not really; they were the ones who chose him. He didn't understand, then, what it was they were taking from him.

“Holy fucking shit,” Levi states, examining the dick in front of him. “I take back my promise to deep-throat you. Take it way back.” “Um,” Erwin says, "That's fine."

Jack opens a door he hasn't walked through in a long time. Bitty holds his hand.

“Trust me,” Mary whispers, and in a louder voice: “Come in, Sherlock.”

"Is this your first time?" Olivier has never slept with a virgin.

You'd thought your master's hive was grand, but it's nothing compared to the Imperial Palace. The building rears up before you, sweeping arches and high towers, black stone ornamented with garnet-colored tile. The banners snapping in the wind are brighter, though, a red so bright it looks unnatural: the banners of the Scarlet Emperor, newly risen, the first of his blood since the Signless Sunderer tore down the old empire and built the new one a thousand sweeps ago. Every noble in the Empire is coming to the Capital tonight, bringing gifts to demonstrate their allegiance and beg the new Emperor's favor. Your master is bringing you.

He sits back, deliberately putting distance between you despite the part of your brain that wishes he wouldn't. "Okay. Freakout over? Good. Now how about some small words and short sentences to work out exactly what the fuck is wrong with you." You sniffle. "Yes. Good. Opening a constructive dialogue in order to put the oppressive apparatus into language so it can be engaged—" "Less theory, more practice," Karkat says.

He pushes off the bed in one smooth motion, and your bloodpusher skips a beat as he takes a step towards you. “Really.” “If, if you’re trying to imply anything lewd—” “Lewd? Seriously? You sound like Zahhak.” Another step. Your voice is too shrill when you ask, “But are you?” He braces one hand against the wall over your shoulder, tilts his head to the side, and smirks in that infuriating, awful way. “What do you think?”

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.

Karkat ends up in his Ancestor's dreambubble. He's kinda okay with that, all things considered.

: “You’re certain you want your first sexual experience to be like this?” “I just want my first sexual experience.” (Or, Sanji goes to a bathhouse looking for a casual hook-up and ends up getting so much more. Sanji/Law, modern!AU).

In which a species of alien flower plays matchmaker. Or, the obligatory sex pollen story.

“You sure you want to do this?” Kurama rumbles. Underneath him, Shisui makes a strangled sound, sucking in a hard breath and squeezing his eyes shut. “Oh gods, please don’t do the voice thing or there won't be anything to do.”

Alec doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows that Magnus knows he doesn’t know, which kind of makes it better — there’s no expectations, just the smile on Magnus’s lips when Alec surges forwards to kiss him — but somehow it makes it worse as well, because he’s following his instincts and his instincts, apparently, involve letting Magnus do anything to him. And, okay, that idea is unfairly hot (there is nothing Alec wouldn’t give to have Magnus pin him down and just take, but his boyfriend is far too nice and too conscious of Alec’s apparently soon-to-be-gone virgin status to even try to) and unfairly unattainable, but Alec’s first response to being pushed onto Magnus’s bed is still to get his wrists up.

Wei Wuxian is the local malevolent demigod who keeps getting sent virgin sacrifices when he'd much rather be left alone. But then one day, the villagers offer him a virgin he just can't resist...

It's their last day of filming in Hengdian when the secret comes out.

Lan Xichen stares at his brother, pure and untouched. His brother, who has never panted with want and come undone under anyone’s hands, not even his own. His brother, who is asking so sweetly and innocently, to be taught.

When the Yiling River rages out of control, the townsfolk decide that a living human sacrifice is needed to appease the dragon that dwells in the river, and Lan Zhan bows to his fate.

Three days after Wang Zhi leaves the capital, bits and pieces of his extensive library begin arriving at Sui Zhou's house.

Shen Qingqiu’s inner robe spreads out like somewhat algae-infested green water across the sand floor of the succubus den. Liu Qingge lays- or, rather, stiffy braces himself on his elbows- like a white line of moonlight across it. Cautiously, Shen Qingqiu lays down next to Liu Qingge- barely touching him. The perfect skin of Liu Qingge’s face is illuminated by a faint sheen of sweat; his chest is heaving like so many flat bosoms in the chapters requested by that one reader who didn’t like big boobs. His hair is dark and beautiful, the bang falling across his cheek and directing the eye to his pink, parted lips. He is: pretty hot. He is: in need of assistance. He is: in need of LIFE SAVING SEX! Succubus extra~ it's t4t piv sex babes!

If it's a choice between bonding and hockey, Zhenya is going to choose hockey every time.

After a while, Sid forgot that it was strange. Early on in Geno's second season, Sykora took Sid aside and said, “Look, what is going on with Malkin,” and it took Sid a moment to even figure out what he was talking about. Sid shrugged. “That's just how Geno is.” “Like a routine,” Sykora said, expression still skeptical. “A superstition?” “Sure,” Sid said. “Something like that.”

Auston chuckles. “You must be really fucking demanding in bed.” “Yeah, I probably would be,” Mitch says. “Would be?” Auston repeats.

“Why can’t I just use your witch?” whines Connor, head resting on the kitchen table while Hallsy shuffles through a manila folder labeled “curse shit.” “She just rubbed foxglove on my wrists and told me not to have sex,” says Hallsy. “It was not very helpful, and also did you know that foxglove is poisonous?” “Yeah, if you eat it,” says Connor.

"The bond's fucked up, boys," Jamie says. There are nods around the room, from all the vets. "We gotta fix it." He says it like it's a general statement, like collectively they're all going to do something to fix it. Jason knows it's really directed at him.

Once you play your first NHL game, your captain gets to take your virginity. That's the way it's always been. It's tradition. How can John say no to tradition? How can John say no to Sidney Crosby?

Harry goes to a massage parlor that offers special services.

Jeff Skinner's virginity is being auctioned off, and he doesn't know who to hope for - one of the Lords Staal? one of the Ladies Lamoureux? Lord Subban? Duke Jágr? Or perhaps the handsome, bearded stranger? A Hockey RPF/Kushiel's Legacy fusion.

“Inigo.” The young man took a measured breath. “Yes.” “You do realize what it will entail.” Another breath. “Yes.” “Nevertheless, let me remind you. Unless I release you to fulfill your civic duties and filial obligations, then—from the first evening bells till well after the sun rises in the morning—you’ll be mine and mine alone. I will own you. Your mouth, your groin, your delicate hole, your pleasure and your pain—all will be mine to indulge, to do with as I please. So I will ask again. Are you sure?” Inigo’s muscles flexed. “Yes.” He shivered again. “Master.”

"Okay. Hold on." Dabi takes a moment to wrap his brain around this new development. "Okay, no, wait, so you're—did you get quirked or something and turn into a girl?" Hawks grimaces and runs a hand through (his? her? God, this is going to be a long day) his hair. His designer jeans jacket slides off one shoulder, too big on his now-smaller frame. He's wearing civilian clothing, which didn't help with the recognition. "Well, you know. Win some, lose some."

“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.

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