Prompto's mouth is dry. His brain's coming up with some pretty amazing mental pictures, just from those words alone. He squirms in his chair, and Gladio laughs. "Someone's interested." "So? I'm into it, what can I say." He shifts again. Even if he loses, there's no order he can think of that he won't love following – not from these guys. "Let's do it." "I'm in," says Noct, not a beat of hesitation. "And I," says Ignis. "So deal already," says Gladio – and Ignis does, long fingers steady and sure on the cards.

Who'd been dead set on keeping Prompto from getting distracted during combat, after he got hurt one time too many? Noct. Who'd suggested the consequences? Noct. Who'd been dumb enough to think it was sexy instead of really, really stupid? Prompto.

Prompto's never really alone anymore, and mostly, he's just fine with that. Mostly, it's exactly what he's always wanted. Only, his friends happen to be stupidly attractive. Like really, ridiculously, unfairly attractive. Strangers on the street actively stare at Gladio without a shirt on. Ignis wears sock garters, smooths them up his slender calves every morning like it's no big deal. Noct somehow doesn't realize that when he wades into the water to pull a fish out, white t-shirt on, the cloth plasters right up against his skin, almost see-through. So yeah. Prompto likes that he's never really alone anymore. But he's also never really alone anymore, and the approximately hundred thousand awkward boners he gets every single day languish in his jeans, untended.

Noctis Lucis Caelum is evil, and he loves it when Prompto's body is a slave to his music.

The order's not a hard one: stay still, and stay quiet. It's an order he's had before, more times than he can count. This time, he even has an end goal: two hundred pages. It seems doable. Two hundred pages isn't that long, right? Prompto's just got to hang in there until Gladio finishes his book.

There should be something horrifying about that. If he hadn't had his friends with him, Prompto'd be dead already, or at least some writhing, mindless daemon-snack-to-be, waiting to be eaten. Instead, the recollection of the incubus' skin, smooth and pale and flawless, sends a rush of want spearing through him. Well. So much for the spell not working.

An elegant hand cups the side of Prompto’s jaw, gently – slides around to below his chin, to tip his face up. Then Ignis is leaning down to kiss Prompto stupid, not that it takes much. Just an insinuating glance in his direction is enough to make Prompto feel like his brains are melting out his ears. When Iggy actually sets hands on him? That’s it, game over. RIP rational thought. Prompto’s still not sure what the smartest, sexiest, most incredibly put-together man he’s ever laid eyes on sees in him, but hey. He’s not complaining. He’ll take whatever he can get, for as long as it lasts.

Based on a kinkmeme prompt: "Ardyn pretends to be Noct to get info out of/lead astray/etc the Chocobros. Except Ardyn is thousands of years old and doesn't know how to talk like a 20 y/o slacker. He's too verbose, he uses old slang people haven't used in centuries, he smiles too much, he guesses their romantic attachments wrong..."

Cor looked out at the thirty plus Crownsguard hopefuls with a flat piercing stare. “This is Prompto Argentum,” he said, gesturing to the young blond haired teen standing next to him. “He is a part of His Highness’ retinue. If you manage to land a hit on him, you can skip Basic training and move to Advance.” Someone in the crowd snicker as the rest of them stared, skeptical. Prompto Argentum was built like a stick, just waiting for someone to snap him in half. There was no way the Marshal was serious.

Gladio gets his kinks indulged by the other three while camping and in heat.

When a routine hunt goes wrong, Gladio finds himself only half the man he used to be. But Prompto doesn't seem to mind. He knows all about how to handle this kind of situation. (Or, Prompto watches too much hentai and never lets an opportunity go to waste)

What would change about the Song if the Chocobros and the Royal Guards were reincarnated into the world of Westros?