There was a sharp and bitter edge crept into the words, a reminder that not all was well: that Thor still had a brother, but not a friend.

It just figures that when Karkat finally finds that special someone he hates more than he hates himself, that person turns out to be the guy who's essentially his clone, but fifty million times more annoying.

Looking into mirrors has always messed with your head, but this is nothing like a mirror image. It’s like looking at yourself distorted even further, sharper, the bare bones and skin shaped into something more solid, but still thin and tense and narrow.

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.

You push yourself up to a sitting position. "Bro," you say. "Long time no see." You manage to keep your voice almost totally steady, even. He's sitting cross-legged in the sand, his elbows on his knees, his katana planted point-down next to him. His horns echo the shape of his shades, jagged outward-facing points. You wonder what yours look like, but you think you'd lose points for reaching up to cop a feel of your own headgear. "Come on. We don't exactly have the high ground out here."

Rose needs peace and quiet to get on with her writing. You'd think that'd be easy in the limitless void of deep space, but no.

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?”

The dishes need doing. They're not the only thing.

Why the Beforan equivalent of yourself didn't appear here, you're not sure, though you suspect it has something to do with direct and indirect transference and the extent to which each of you had contact with game code prior to this remix of the universe; the Ancestors from Alternia had vague memories of being their Beforan selves, so both versions re-instanced, but as far as you know you're the only version of Sollux Captor the game was aware of. Poor Sollux, you jeer internally, all alone in the world. If you were to quadrant yourself, you're not sure whether self-hate or self-pity would be the dominant emotion, but either way, you're getting off on it. God, you make yourself sick. You hold your bulge like you're trying to restrain it, but who the fuck are you kidding. It wraps around your fingers, both tendrils snaking and coiling harder the more you try to will them to stop, like don't-think-of-a-trunkbeast, and you rub at them distractedly because you can't stand not to. Sollux Captor, system architect of the new universe, reduced to thinking with his bulge by two copies of his ancestor being obnoxious at each other. Fuck your hot life.

Sollux just wanted a tattoo. He came out of it with ten piercings and a threesome.

Dirk has come to terms with sharing his famous brother with the world, but there are some things he wants to keep for himself. (Heads up for nsfw art right in your face)

As soon Klaus realize he can make Ben solid again, Ben start to wonder about some of the experiences he never got to have alive.

Diego has never sucked a cock before, he decides that needs to change

He has the face of a devil, sharp and beautiful and just a little bit evil, and Diego should really know better when Klaus gets that clever look in his eye.

Back at home, when he has time to examine it more closely, it quickly becomes obvious why this ritual never turned up in all his early research. It's not a typical soul summoning ritual. It's not a cultivation ritual at all; as Nie Huaisang puzzles through it, the closest category he can put it in is folk magic...not only that, but sex magic.

The fault, Nie Mingjue thinks later, lies squarely with the blasted weather.

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.

Nie Huaisang would do anything to help his brother. Now he knows the very thing required, and it forces every choked, desperate thought to the surface. Everything hiding beneath 'Da-ge smiled at me' rises forcefully up through him so that his mouth is filled with the taste of wanting. Yes, Nie Huaisang would do anything to help his brother, but especially this.

Wei Ying isn't sure how it came to this—how Lan Zhan fucking her while Wei Ying babbles about getting pregnant turned into Wei Ying babbling about Lan Xichen getting her pregnant for Lan Zhan, while Lan Zhan fucks her. Talking about being pregnant during sex is nothing new for her. She and Lan Zhan have been married for three years now, and along with settling down in the Cloud Recesses, they've settled into their marriage and what they like best in bed. Wei Ying isn't even embarrassed about it anymore; not when Lan Zhan loves it so much. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan share fantasies and plan for a baby.

In the end, there isn’t much of a discussion. With the sabre spirit boiling in Mingjue’s blood, it has to be Huaisang. Huaisang has regular courses, has never actually been stabbed or tortured on the field of battle. They know their duty to the family. If Mingjue can’t risk a child, Huaisang will do it. But she's not doing it alone.

Huaisang ran his fingers up over Mingjue’s thigh and abdomen, smoothing in slow circles as he spoke, “Just relax, Da-ge. I’ll take good care of you.”

Xichen's cheeks are flushed a pale pink and it suddenly occurs to Mingjue that Xichen isn't doing that fancy Lan technique of using his core to evaporate the alcohol before it can affect him. Which means Xichen wants to get drunk. Which means only bad things for Mingjue, generally. Good, but very bad things.

Qin Su is finally going to sleep with her new boyfriend the coming weekend. She likes to look immaculate when she has sex with someone for the first time. Perfume, nice lingerie and all that. Unfortunately the place she usually goes to for her bikini waxes is fully booked.

It doesn’t occur to him to ask what helping would entail until Mikey gives him a sideways look. “Don’t think it’s the kind of help you should ask your brother for,” he says. “But thanks.” Gerard tries to think of something he wouldn’t help Mikey do, but there’s nothing. He’d drive a getaway car, bury a body, even give him bone marrow, and he’s seen the needles they use to get at that shit. “There’s no such thing,” he says. Mikey shrugs, picks up an ad for lipstick and starts tearing around the edge of the logo. “It’s kind of a sex thing,” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry A-Cheng, this is the kind of party that expects everyone to be using fake names. It would be horribly against the rules for anyone to acknowledge who you actually are, even if they do recognise either of you. Trust me, there will be far more interesting things going on than watching Chifeng-zun and Sandu Shengshou tonight. All you have to do is play it cool, make it seem like you’re there for the same reasons as everyone else, and nobody will meet your eyes. Piece of cake!” Huaisang sounds positively chipper, which means Jiang Cheng is almost certainly going to have the worst night of his life tonight. Or: Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue steal a sex party

The first time Jin Guangshan mentioned it, Jin Guangyao felt a great surge of relief – at last, he thought. At last someone else that isn’t me notices it!

Connor honestly doesn’t mean to snoop.

Jamie’s always known his girlfriend has a dirty mind.

If Connor was a good person - if he was a Good Simple Boring Canadian Boy - he wouldn’t watch his best friend get fucked by his older brother.

“Nick,” Marcus whimpers out after a long silence, the two of them just staring at each other. “Fuck. Does it stop hurting?” “I told you to ask me things,” Nick says, and he’s trying to not lose himself right now, but it’s a struggle. “And also like—Jesus, kiddo, don’t wipe the slick on the shared towels after you shower.”

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

"It's not like he's noticing anything you're doing. Face it Greyjoy: when he's on top like that, you could be anyone in the world and he'd enjoy fucking himself on you just as much.” In which Theon is easily manipulated, Jon is a smug git about it, and Robb would like to get off at some point.

Jon joins his king, and brother, in bed. And his queen.

Jason moves his limp cock out of the way before spreading his lips wide with two fingers. His hole flutters, and off-white come drips down his perineum. "Whoops," he deadpans. "Looks like I've been naughty, Daddy." Bruce hums. He rolls back his sleeves before stepping forward. "Who did this to you, baby?" Jason's grin is positively feral when he answers: "Dick."

Just once, when the trade to Dallas is announced, Tyler forgets to give a shit and asks Brownie if he can read it. Maybe that’ll cheer him up in fucking Texas, he thinks, but Brownie just stares. “Never seen those kinda letters before, dude. Like, that’s not even an alphabet that exists, I bet.” Then he seems to remember that this is Tyler’s soulmark they’re talking about. “Sorry, man. I have no idea. Sucks.”