“Good boy,” she murmurs against his throat. He goes impossibly still – she’s got enough time to think huh before she’s fast asleep. The next day it feels like a dream, the way that the sweet memories from childhood go hazy and glow at the unravelled edges, so she wouldn’t even notice it if—well. If she weren’t impossibly in love with him. But she is. So she notices.

"The point," Karkat says, balling up the cape and tossing it over one shoulder, "is that I'm curious as fuck about your horrific alien biology, but you never take off any clothes, or let me see anything, really." "Oh, man," Dave groans. "There's nothing to see, jesus."

"Oh? You can't kiss silver?" Viktor makes a mock-horrified face. "Silver? No way!" Ah. Yuuri recognizes this—Viktor getting into one of his bratty moods. Yuuri's never really tried to do anything about it before, and eventually Viktor always tones it back down, but this time, Yuuri wonders... He shrugs. "Well, I guess I just won't be able to kiss you then."

Theon loses a bet that means, for the first time, Jon gets to fuck him, rather than the other way around. He assumes Jon will treat him as roughly as he's always treated Jon. This proves incorrect.

Fuck, what has he done until now? Told Geralt… nice things because he thought that he’d like to hear them and was proved right about it, on top of it? One day he’ll have a long chat with Geralt about how much his previous partners had no taste. Right now, though — “What,” he asks, moving closer, “that you’re lovely?” Geralt… doesn’t flinch, not exactly, but a few more tears fall down, and — “You don’t have to lie if —” “I’m not,” Jaskier interrupts him at once, letting his hands go to grasp his face, pressing their lips together to try and start making his point. “Fuck, you are lovely, other than drop-dead handsome, but then again I haven’t been staring at you like that for months for nothing.” Or: in which it turns out Geralt does have a praise kink that hits him harder than he'd thought. Jaskier is more than glad to indulge in it.

The window is open - Hawks can hear the sounds of the busy city thrumming below his penthouse apartment and the cool breeze fluttering the curtains. It feels almost magical to be here, bathed in warmth in the bedroom, only the moon and the low lights either side of the bed illuminating Dabi, staples glinting gold where they catch the light. He’s so very beautiful when he’s like this, breathing a little harder than usual, sweat making the high points of his cheeks glow. Hawks catches Dabi’s gaze as his fingers brush against his spot and he lets out a breathy moan. Dabi makes the same ‘come hither’ gesture, smirking - Hawks wants to drag him so close that their skin melts together and they become one person. He thinks he’d finally be content, then. Dabi pulls his fingers out with a sordid, wet squelch and Hawks wants to punch him instead.