She hasn’t had a partner-assisted orgasm in over a week and a half, and she is just beyond done. She wants to lie down on the cold bathroom floor and cry. Derek is starting to look like a permanently kicked puppy. “Look,” she tells him after dinner, “I love your inner self and your personality or whatever, but can I just tie you up and use your body until I come a couple times?” Derek fumbles the sudsy glass in his hand. “Awesome!” Stiles says brightly.

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.

He didn’t know until this moment just how much he wanted Mingjue to ask for it—for anything—to take the reins Huaisang has been holding out for so long and pull them tight and demand.

“How you feeling, sir?” he asked, eyeing his General. They’d, at least, managed to all evac back to the shuttles without losing anyone, leaving the noxious-smelling laboratory where they’d found a pack of Seppy scientists working on new biological weapons behind. “I’ll be fine, Commander,” Obi-Wan said, without opening his eyes, his voice thick and hoarse. “But comm ahead, would you, and make sure the medics are ready for me.” OR, the one were Obi-Wan gets dosed with an especially nasty toxin, and Cody helps him survive the following hours.