ffxv_kinkmeme | Prompt Post Round Five

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Prompt Post Round Five

Welcome to Round Five of the FFXV Kink Meme!

Closed for prompts | OPEN for fills

Please have a look at the extended rules here.

The important rules in short:

Post anonymously.
Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
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One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
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Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
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Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun!

(You can also check out our Pinboard for Filled or Unfilled prompts)

If you'd like to advertise a fill, head on over to the fills post! This is, of course, entirely optional.
New Prompts are Closed for this round. Please wait until 11/13/2017 for Round Six.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

oh promtpo xD so innocent

a!a Thanks! Yeah, Ignis is a pretty savvy kid. But Noct is grade A at being a sass-master, so he might have a few tricks up his sleeve as well...

Ardyn was never forced out of Lucis. He remained the Accursed King. The other side of his family line continued, keeping their relation to the king and their connection to the crystal's magic a carefully guarded secret. Everything is going fine(or as fine as it can be under the rule of a demon king) until 5 year old Noctis is chosen by the crystal to defeat the Accursed.

If Bahamut had meant to turn Noctis into a willing, timid servant of destiny, he’d underestimated exactly how stubborn his branch of the Caelum family could be. Giving the prince a direct order was a practice in frustration: When told to sit still for a fitting, Noctis picked a pose that made it next to impossible for the tailor to work. When he was ordered to stop talking, he knocked into things, dropped silverware, and blasted music on his phone. Simple commands to wait here and sit with me were obeyed for only a fraction of a second. When he was thirteen, Noct even tried to program an anti-obedience recording on his phone.

“Okay,” he said, bracing himself in the schoolroom he shared with Ignis and Gladio. “Tell me to do something.”

Ignis drummed his fingers on his math book. “Give me your pencil,” he said.

Noct held his breath as the pressure to obey built, the familiar tilting feeling of nausea constricting his stomach. He flipped to the recording on his phone, and Ignis’ voice came out, tinny and loud.

“Ignore that last order.”

The pressure didn’t stop. It kept building, heavier and higher and tighter, until Noct’s head was throbbing and he could taste bile in the back of his mouth. He lurched for his pencil and smacked it on Ignis’ desk.

“Damn,” Ignis said. “Back to the drawing board.”

“I’m never gonna leave the Citadel again,” Noct moaned, collapsing on his desk. His one attempt at going to public school had led to a minor meltdown in the middle of second period. He’d run off, tripped over some poor kid with a camera, and hid in the back of the gym equipment shed before anyone found him. Since then, he couldn’t even go outside without constant supervision. He pressed his cheek to the cracked, plastic spine of his math book and sighed.

“Don’t—“ Ignis stopped. “change your name to Nigel.” Noct snorted. Ignis liked to finish accidental orders with ridiculous, useless commands.

“Will do.” Noct smiled at Ignis, who blushed faintly and smiled back, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The door swung open, revealing Gladiolus Amicitia, all of sixteen years old and sporting the worst mullet Noct had ever seen, carrying an armload of books from the library.

“You guys spent lunch in the classroom?” he asked. He dumped his books on the desk with a grin. “Couple o’ nerds.”

“Oh, yes,” Ignis said, eyeing the book sliding off the top of Gladio’s stack. “Much worse than spending it in the library, reading… what’s that title, Noct?”

“Looks like Tempest of Love, Specs,” Noct said.

“Riveting.”

“Oh, shut up, Iggy.” Gladio fell into his chair. “Word of warning, Noct. We got the bossy tutor this afternoon.”

Noct groaned, and Ignis leaned over to pat him on the back. The tutor in question, a grim-faced former Crownsguard who still wore his uniform to work, strode through the door and tapped Noct’s desk.

“Sit up straight, your highness,” he said. Noct waited until the last possible second to obey, and Ignis made a faint sound of distress in the back of his throat. “Now. Gladiolus, open your book to page fifty-three, Ignis, page ninety. Your highness, open your book to page three hundred and six.”

“Yes, sir,” Ignis and Gladio said.

Noct dutifully opened his math book, flipped to the correct page, and set the book on the floor.

Noct was fifteen when Prompto Argentum, the blonde-haired, ganglier version of the boy Noct had run into during his first and only day of school, sat next to him at the shooting range of the arcade and beat his high score. Gladio, who’d been sitting by the vending machines with his policy briefings, immediately drifted closer, but the only threat Prompto seemed to pose was to digital monsters on the screen. Noct kept waiting for him to say something, to admit to being the kid Noct had plowed over that day by the gym, but he just laughed and lent Noct more quarters for the racing games, acting like this was the first time they’d met. Noct walked back to the Citadel that night with a new number in his phone, a disgruntled shield following at his heels, and a whole mess of security problems to answer for.

Only a select number of people knew about the curse: If word got out that the future king of Lucis would literally do what anyone ordered him to, the best case scenario would be his abdication of the crown. The worst involved people using him as a puppet king, ordering him to go to war with their allies, to bankrupt the country, to dismantle their magical wall and let Niflheim take over. So Noct was, with good reason, a shadow prince. He barely made public appearances, never took interviews, and the only time journalists got a good photo of him was when the lucky tabloid photographer shouted, “Prince Noctis, look here!”

Introducing a stranger to Noct’s life, especially one without the kind of clearance Ignis, Gladio, and a handful of Crownsguard had, was almost too much of a risk.

Still, after a thorough background check had been made and Noct was caught sighing over his phone for the third time, the king decided it was a risk worth taking. Noct started venturing out more, meeting up with Prompto at the arcade or at shitty little 24-hour diners.

Ignis and Gladio were always close by, of course. Ignis was on the fast track to becoming Noct’s advisor in truth, and Noct kept having to bat his hand away from the notes on his phone when they were out. One night, after Noct had playfully shoved Ignis out of the booth for daring to say that his own attempt at Crow’s Nest fries were infinitely better, and Ignis had laughed and walked off, claiming to be washing his hands of him, Prompto nudged Noct with his boot.

“So what’s the deal with you guys?” he asked.

“Our deal? Well, he’s a coffee junkie, and I have no shame.” Noct swiped some of Prompto’s fries to prove his point, and Prompto rolled his eyes.

“Not like that, doofus. The way you guys look at each other. You know. The mooning.”

Noct narrowed his eyes, ignoring the heat that rushed to his cheeks. “I don’t moon.”

“Dude, it’s like watching a soap opera. You’re always looking at him when he’s not looking at you.” Prompto propped his feet up on Noct’s knees. “So what’s your deal? Is it ‘cause he’s, you know, working for your dad?”

“Uh.” Noct grabbed his drink and shrugged, taking a long draft.

Prompto grinned. “Stop hiding behind your drink and tell me the truth, man.”

“Of course I like him,” Noct said, and tried to force his mouth closed. But the headache was starting to pound away again, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to throw up all over his new friend in the middle of a seedy diner, so he plunged on regardless.. “I’ve always liked him. Sometimes I think maybe it’d be better if I did abdicate, because he already knows, and he’d never be with me now because what if people think he’s taking advantage of me? Which is dumb, because he’s the…” He was shaking. He could feel the tremble in his shoulders, and the hot, humiliating sting of tears in his eyes as his traitorous mouth kept going, spilling it all out in a terrible flood. “He deserves to be with someone who isn’t a mess, Prompto. What if someone finds out, and they make me hurt him? What if they ask me to kill him? What if I, what if something happens and he isn’t there, and I’ll never—“

“Noct.”

Noct flinched at the sound of Ignis’ voice, and turned aside. A warm, slightly damp hand lay on his shoulder, and Ignis’ breath tickled his cheek.

“Tell the truth when it is your desire to do so.”

Noct covered his face with both hands, and Prompto sat up, swinging his feet to the floor.

“Noct. Dude,” he said. “You didn’t have to—“

“I believe we should go,” Ignis said.

“I’m really sorry, Prom,” Noct said. He refused to look Ignis in the eye as he slid out of the booth. “It’s not you. I swear. I’ll, uh. I’ll call you later.”

Noct still hadn’t stopped shaking when they reached the car. He piled into the backseat rather than the front, and tipped forward until he was hunched up against the back of Ignis’ seat. His lips were strangely dry, and his skin felt feverish and cool.

“I’m sorry, Ignis,” he said.

He heard the shuff of Ignis’ gloved hands sliding over the leather of the steering wheel. “So am I.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, a small bubble of stillness in the center of the city.

“It’s only fair, I suppose,” Ignis said at last, “that I speak honestly as well.”

“Ignis, no. It’s fine, you don’t—“

“I... may have loved you since we were children.” Ignis’ voice sounded strange, like he was struggling to speak around a swollen throat. “This isn’t how I would like for it to be known—I’d hoped to tell you when the curse was broken—“

“If it can be,” Noct said.

“It can.” There was a thumping sound. “It will. But Noct, I can’t bear to think that I might… That in the heat of the moment, I may give you an order unawares.”

“But you’re always aware.”

“Because I have to be.” Ignis’ breath hitched, so faint Noct almost missed it. “I can’t betray your trust on me. If you were hurt on my behalf, by my hand, I don’t think I—“

“Hey.” Noct scooted over, leaning forward so he could see Ignis’ face. Ignis hurriedly swiped a palm under his eyes, and Noct took his hand. “I trust you.”

“A terrible decision,” Ignis said.

“Nah.” Noct sat on the padded CD case between the seats, and lifted off Ignis’ glasses. They were fogged over, and when Ignis turned to him, his eyes were dark and wide and painfully wet.

Ignis closed his eyes and took an unsteady breath.

“Tell me not to kiss you,” Noct said. Ignis’ eyes flew open.

“Excuse me?”

“If I can’t trust you,” Noct said, “tell me not to kiss you.” His heartbeat felt unnaturally strong, pulsing through his entire body as he set Ignis’ glasses on the dashboard. Ignis licked his lips.

Noct leaned forward, and Ignis met him halfway. They kissed inexpertly, Noct’s teeth clashing against Ignis’ braces, the taste of bitter, medicinal chapstick on his tongue. But Ignis’ gloved hands slid through Noct’s hair, and Noct felt like he was drifting, pulling loose from his body on a warm updraft that carried him away from the city, away from the crown, away from curses and prophecies and endless orders. He smiled when Ignis drew back, then slipped, jabbing his elbow into the car horn and making them both jump.

Then they were laughing—a little hysterical, sure, but Noct thought it was a whole lot better than spilling his heart out in a diner booth—and holding each other, Ignis’ head on Noct’s shoulder, Noct’s fingers clenching on the smooth fabric of Ignis’ dress shirt. And sure, maybe there were a few tears, and maybe it was Ignis’ turn to become a shaking mess, but at least they were a mess together. At least they were there.

Like always.

Op- omgosh im so giddy right now because this is the best! I love how you have them trying to find different loopholes and the ignoct is so wonderful. I wonder how long noctis can resist an order? Thanks so much!

Something causes the old injury in Noct's back to flare up and ends up on the floor in too much pain to move until someone finds him.

My back is hurting like bitch and i like project my suffering onto fictional characters.

seconding!

Brotherhood!era, a group of kidnappers is trying to pick the best target for information from the bros- can't get the Prince because he's too well-guarded by that huge guy, we can't take on the huge guy, nobody from his school will know anything, so how about that nerdy guy with the glasses in the suit?

Up to author!anon if they succeed or he makes them regret trying.

If they do kidnap him...
+ for the bros having to watch (video, live feed, whatever)
++ for Noctis having to pick the torture they put Ignis through
+++ if the kidnappers make his choice become worse than the other option(s)

Seconding like woah!

Brotherhood Era Noctis [16/17] decides he wants a more hands on approach to sex ed. Ignis enjoys this much more than he feels he should.

This is just all so good, anon.

New Game + happens and Noctis starts over again. Except he really started all over again. For as long as he could remember, he knew everything that would happen in the future. He knew he was being chosen by the crystal at five and what it meant. He knows the marilith will kill his guards and nanny and injure him badly. He knows Tenebrae will be attacked. He knows Iris will get lost trying to meet him. He knows Prompto is just trying to become his friend. He knows Insomnia will fall. He knows Luna will be killed and Ignis will go blind. He knows he has to die to destroy Ardyn.

What does he change?

Bonus:

+ if he's in a relationship in the new game + that he didn't act on the first time around

+ if he starts creating crazy butterfly effects by changing things, like being in his dad's car during the marilith attack, or he fights Ravus at the imperial base and wins and earns his respect/help

+ he's super strong because he kept all his abilities and experience and everyone at the citadel marvels at how good of a fighter he is despite having little experience

+ the above is how Regis catches on to what's going on. He'd figured something was up for a while but couldn't tell what until then

+ kid Noct is still technically adult Noct so he's at a weird in between until he gets through puberty

I also want this?
.
.
.
.
Yes, I also want this!

Um, YES??? hello two of my favorite things, Noctis learning about sexuality and Noctis learning about sexuality from Ignis

omg prompto noctis obviously wants to bone you, give him a chance haha

I'm so sorry for such a long wait for this part! Hopefully I can get part 4 out quicker.

- - - - - - -

The first night after Ignis resolved to stop thinking about it, he dreamt of Ardyn.

On his back with his arms around Ardyn's neck, holding on to his one source of comfort. Afraid and hurting. He was crying.

He woke up with a jolt, his whole body tensing at once. Absent of anything to replace it, the image of the dream pressed down on him – no. He was in his bed in Lestallum. Someone was breathing beside him, close but not quite so close they were touching.

Prompto. It was Prompto. He knew it but couldn't quite convince all of himself of the fact; some part insisted it was not.

A dream – how absurd that all it took was a simple dream to throw him so entirely. He forced his breathing to slow but he felt suffocated; his heart was racing. Unable to reach right, towards Prompto, he turned left and checked the time. Four-thirty. No hope of simply waiting for Prompto to wake up and confirm his presence, then. And he wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon, either.

He reached to the right. Prompto's arm was warm. His shoulder and face were lax with sleep. What was he dreaming of, if anything? Did he ever dream of Ardyn?

He wanted to wrap Prompto up, hold him tight and close.

There were a lot of things he wanted, it seemed, and few of them very realistic. But this one was manageable.

Prompto mumbled wordlessly into his shoulder as Ignis gently pulled him on top of himself, careful not to wake him. Prompto made a grumbling sound and shifted to get comfortable. Noct would have stayed fast asleep and motionless at all but the most violent of jostling. Noct was not here.

The heat and solid weight pressing Ignis into the mattress were, if not quite comforting, then anchoring. With his hands on the small of Prompto's back, Prompto's face pressed into the crook of his neck, and one of Prompto's legs tucked between his and the other sprawled off to one side, he felt closed in. Secured down. It was a childish feeling, equally powerful and humiliating, and as much as he hated humiliation he was familiar with it.

Prompto's hair tickled his cheek. He pushed his hands under Prompto's t-shirt, feeling the expanse of skin for any new injuries, and thankfully finding none. At the contact, perhaps, Prompto arched his back first up against his hands then down, rolling his spine to press his whole body against Ignis'. He wormed his hands into Ignis' armpits and gripped the fabric of his top, mumbling something undecipherable into Ignis' neck.

Radix put his hand on Ignis' thigh – no. If he couldn't help his dreams then at least he could control himself whilst awake.

It took a second to realise the mumbles had stopped being mumbles and started being little kisses, clumsy and uncoordinated. Then Prompto tucked his head under Ignis' chin, sighed, and fell back asleep.

Two hours later he woke himself up by rolling off Ignis and getting tangled in the bed covers. He untangled himself, stretched to pop his shoulders, and turning over flung an arm over Ignis' stomach to stop him from moving.

'Mornin'.'

'Good morning.'

'It's Saturday. Sleep in.'

Ignis laughed. 'I've been lying here too long for that to be very tempting, I'm afraid. But if you want I can cook us something nice for breakfast.'

A slight pause. Prompto moved his head, possibly to look at him.

'Sweet, or savoury?' Ignis said. He could imagine Prompto squinting at him, trying to work out whether he wanted the food or the lie-in more. He deserved better than he got, Ignis thought, suddenly.

'Sweet,' Prompto said, finally. 'You never offer to make sweet things for breakfast.'

'Dessert for breakfast is a travesty,' Ignis said, and laughed at the offended huff it earned him, even as he wondered what he could manage with the few ingredients he had in the kitchen. 'But perhaps I can make an exception this time. Come on, up. I'm going to need you to help.'

In his little kitchen Prompto stepped back as he got out the necessary ingredients and utensils from their proper places. He broke eggs into a bowl, removing the yolks with his hands to move them to a second bowl. It was messy but still the easiest way, given that Prompto still occasionally broke the yolk into the white. After rinsing his hands he gave the bowl of whites and a whisk to Prompto. 'I need this to be thick and fluffy,' he said. 'Stop when it can just hold a peak; don't over-beat it. Better too little than too much.'

A large handful of fruit came out of the freezer to thaw by the oven, which was, ironically enough, better than the one even in Noct's own flat back in Insomnia – at least in function, if not cost or modern sleekness. Lestallum was far more serious about its home cooking than Insomnia had been, it seemed.

For all that they were without electric whisks, so the egg whites under Prompto's attention, and the yolks, which Ignis beat with a little icing sugar, needed a fair while and one or two comments from Prompto about his arm hurting. To fill the silence Ignis explained about the ideal conditions in which to beat egg white (the bowl shouldn't be plastic, or too small – a large copper bowl was ideal but alas those were rather hard to come by these days – and the presence of fat, including egg yolk, would make it unnecessarily difficult; the eggs should ideally be fresh but if stale a small pinch of salt would help). At Prompto's request he then tested the whites by dipping in a finger ('what does that even mean, "hold a peak"...' Prompto said).

He folded the whites and yolks together himself, not quite trusting Prompto not to knock all the air right back out of them. Instead Prompto melted butter in a frying pan, and gently patted the now defrosted fruit dry: raspberries and blackberries, and a few redcurrants. 'Turn the heat down,' Ignis said as he poured the eggs into the frying pan, 'if it's not already. And scatter the fruit on top.'

'Low heat, got it. Fruit in. They're sinking. Is that okay?'

'That's fine. Now, turn on the grill, and watch the omelette. Take the spatula, the black one, and – not now, in a few minutes – gently lift the edge to see if it's golden underneath. When it is, put it under the grill just long enough to brown the top.'

He washed up the bowls and whisks while they were waiting, and listened to the sounds of Prompto hovering by the pan, tapping the spatula on the handle and shuffling his feet.

Radix – no. Not now. 'You always try extraordinarily hard. That's a very admirable trait, Ignis.'

'I mean,' Prompto said, as he slid the pan into the oven. 'It's kinda weird, don't you think?'

'What do you mean?'

'The fruit... in an omelette. Fruit omelette. With sugar. Sugary fruit omelette for breakfast. That's weird, right? Right? Tell me this isn't some messed up dream and when I wake up and tell you about it you're gonna be really, really offended.'

Ignis, caught off guard, laughed. 'I will admit, it is an odd recipe, but an entirely legitimate one all the same. Try to think of it more as a variation on a soufflé.'

He wanted to cross the kitchen and find Prompto, remind himself of how solid and warm and real he was. He held back, running his fingers inside the bowls to make sure they were clean. They were.

'Honestly, that doesn't help. Soufflés are hard to get right and that's pretty much all I know about 'em. Cheese soufflé? Or wait, that's cheese fondue, isn't it?'

'No, you're right, cheese soufflé's are indeed a thing. And they're not so hard to get right, though I suppose a step up from the more basic cakes and suchlike. You just need to have a decent recipe and be able to follow it.'

'Right, but that's easy for you to say. I bet if I tried I'd... I dunno, what's a really bad soufflé like?'

'Flat,' Ignis said, lips quirking into a smile as he finished washing the dishes and turned, leaning his hip against the counter. 'Chewy, tough. Or you could go the other way and have it soupy and undercooked.'

'Right, so I'd probably make one with a gross lil' chewy pancake top and all soup beneath, or something. No idea how, but I'd do it.'

'You underestimate yourself. You did half the work here; is our omelette terribly wrong?'

A short pause as Prompto moved, told by the dry sound of his clothes. 'No. Well, I mean, other than in it existing.'

'How rude – after I invite you into my house...'

Prompto's laugh preceded him by a second, and Ignis would have been knocked back a step had he not already been up against the counter. Wrapping his arms around Ignis' waist, Prompto reached up and kissed him: little, short kisses to the side of his mouth. 'I'm sorry! It's just so weird! It's you cooking so I bet it's nice and all, but... come on, fruit omelette, man.'

Instead of having to admit that he'd chosen the recipe because they were out of flour, milk, and bread, Ignis leant down to kiss Prompto more properly. 'Broadening your horizons is never a bad thing,' he said, when they broke apart. 'But if you don't like it I can reheat last night's leftovers. It's not the sweet breakfast I promised, but I won't be offended.'

Prompto gasped, and twisted to mock-swoon in Ignis' arms. 'How romantic.'

Radix said – no. He wouldn't think about it. Radix's hands – no. Stop it.

He realised he was stiff, tense, and Prompto shimmied up and out of his arms before he could manage not to be. Prompto was fine, he told himself. Prompto could deal with his traumas without disturbing and offending others. Why couldn't he?

Prompto wasn't saying anything.

'Can you check on the omelette?' Ignis said, because in distracting himself from his own useless past he'd just made himself think about Prompto, and Ardyn, and the y-shaped frame Gladio had unwillingly described to him. He'd only done it after a short fight Ignis had won with the underhanded weapons of guilt and his own blindness.

Prompto, and Ardyn, and the y-shaped frame. Nothing had happened. Prompto had said that nothing had happened, and even if Ignis knew better than that it was still proper – for Prompto's sake – that he also know that nothing had happened.

If someone had known the truth about Radix, let alone confronted him with it – he wasn't sure what he would have done. He'd rebuilt himself without help, and done it well. True, it had taken some time, but he'd never let it stand between him and physical closeness with other men. He hadn't let it affect his studies, or work, or relationship with Noct or Gladio. He hadn't wanted help; he hadn't needed it. It was deeply regrettable that in not telling anyone Radix had gone free, and perhaps because of it Radix had thought he'd won. He was dead now, at any rate; Ignis had checked.

He'd acted entirely selfishly – protecting himself and his place at Noct's side at the expense of any others Radix might make victims of – but because of it he'd made it through and come out ultimately unscathed. For Prompto there was no selfishness, no shades of morality. What good would come out of adding rape to Ardyn's excessively long list of crimes? None, unless it would help Prompto, and Prompto had already decided that it wouldn't.

So nothing had happened.

Either that or nothing had, actually, happened.

'So,' Prompto said. 'What's browned on top look like, anyway?'

There was a short pause, in which Prompto's teeth clacked together audibly. 'I mean,' Prompto said, at the same time as Ignis said: 'No, it's all right–'

Another pause, in which Ignis thought about the colour of sand in Leide, and the way the Citadel had turned when the evening sun hit it just right, and the pastries he'd made for Noct, and Prompto's hair, and suddenly realised he couldn't remember any differences between them all. 'A few shades darker than what it was going in, a few shades lighter than burnt, ' he said eventually, even though the answer was next to useless. He searched for a better one. 'Or – the colour of cooked pastry. Tawny brown. It should be done by now.'

A rattle and clack as Prompto took the pan out of the oven and set it on the stove top. 'I think it's done,' he said. 'You want me to serve it up?'

They ate more or less in silence, and Ignis wondered if Prompto liked it or if he was eating it out of duty, or if indeed he was only pretending to eat and would in fact later find someone else to give it to. 'It's good,' Prompto said. 'Weird but good.'

'Thank you.'

The inside of the omelette was soft and creamy, like it should be. The fruit was less good, having been frozen rather than fresh, and the juice had ruined the consistency in places. The top was a little overdone in places, but not badly. He should have made something else. Prompto deserved better. After all he'd been through he deserved better than this godsforsaken fruit omelette, and Ignis, who was apparently entirely incapable of leaving the past in the past.

Catching up on that numbering! Cor isn’t great at warping.

------

They snapped back into reality on the edge of an empty parking lot, shedding a shower of sparks, collapsing into a tangle of limbs as Cor’s ankle twisted under him. Alive. They’d fallen so fast, the darkened masses of buildings growing huge in the night, and he’d flung the dagger wildly down into the black, praying that it would find level ground, praying he remembered how to pull.

The baby squirmed, and Cor wrapped his arms around the bundle, drawing it against his racing heart. Alive. Cor opened his eyes, looking back up at the sky. It was as if the stars were spinning. He squeezed them shut again.

"Stulte!" A curse, close to his ear. Alive.

Cor counted between his breaths, forcing them to slow.

“Stulte.” Quieter this time; a breeze of a laugh fluttered in his hair.

A hand reached up to brush Cor’s forehead, and he leaned into the cool touch, letting it ground him.

“Mihi valde places.” It was a whisper, and the man’s hand fell away.

When the world stopped moving, Cor pulled himself out of the man’s arms and rolled to a sitting position, hissing at the pain in his ankle. He took a moment to break an elixir over it. The pain spiked, then faded to a throb as the bones realigned and started to knit.

Praying that no one was looking down from Zegnautus, he clicked his flashlight onto the lowest setting and shone it around. The parking lot they had landed in was small, bounded on one side by a line of tall hedge and on two with hulking offices. They were exposed, and anyone passing by in the blackout was sure to notice his light.

Thank Shiva we’re in the business district.

As a rule, Nif civilians didn’t go out after dark, not since the demon attacks had started in earnest. Even in the bright lights of the city, people hurried home before sunset, hiding behind drawn shutters and locked doors. Soliders like Cor… like those he’d heard in the Keep… were another matter. They’d be sending a search unit.

Cor glanced over his shoulder. The man was laying on his back, one arm flung over his scarred chest, shivering. He was breathing, and his pulse was steady. Cor pushed himself to his feet, and limping and cursing under his breath all the while as he dragged the unconscious man toward the tall hedges. That was as far as Cor’s abused ankle would take them for now.

The baby, still bundled up in the sheet, had started wriggling earnestly. Cor took that as a good sign, but even so, he held his breath as he tugged the sling over his head to pull the little boy free, laying him on the wadded sheet. The baby’s bright blue eyes brimmed with tears under a dusting of mussed blond hair, staring at him accusingly, and his fat little legs kicked in the air. Cor checked him closely, but could find no signs of injury beyond those he’d bandaged in the lab. The only abnormality he could see was a barcode on one wrist that didn’t wipe away when Cor rubbed at it with his thumb.

“I wonder what they’ve done to you that I can’t see, kid.”

Images of the lab – of other babies – flashed into his mind, and Cor pushed them sharply back. Not right now. The baby caught at Cor’s finger and pulled it to his mouth, gnawing at his rough skin with sharp little teeth.

“Hey. You don’t know where that’s been.” Cor pulled his hand away, smoothing down the boy’s fine hair instead.

Somewhere between growing a couple of teeth and walking? How old is that? Younger than Clarus’ kid was when I left.

The baby yawned, tears mostly gone, and Cor allowed himself a small smile. The kid was cute.

Blanket, Cor thought, holding out a palm. He got a gym towel. Close enough. He tucked it around the baby against the night’s chill, and turned to check on his other acquisition.

The man seemed no worse, as far as it went. It seemed Cor had taken the brunt of their hard landing. The dark mottling where his wounds had healed hadn’t faded, staining skin that was already thick with overlapping scars. Cor found more dark spots when he pulled the man over, just where pressure sores would form. He didn’t wake when Cor shook him.

Cor had just managed to tug a pair of his own old sweatpants up to the man’s waist when the baby started to wail.

----

Ardyn: “Fool!” -- “Fool.” –- “I like you.”

Yeah, Cor's got a few wrong ideas, but he has the best intentions... (and we all know where those lead!)

I'm glad you're enjoying it :D

This was so sweet and enjoyable! Thank you, anon!

A/N okay, I'm the same anon as the above comment, I just could not resist this. It's late and I'm going to bed now so this is just the setup/intro, sorry it's short but I wanted to get it out there!

***

"What's that you're working on?" Ignis unpacks the groceries and sets them on the counter as Noctis runs a highlighter over a handout from school. "Science homework?"

Noctis sighs. "Sex ed. It's a-- there are a lot of diagrams, ugh. They taught us all of this back in middle school anyway, I don't know why we have to do the same thing again. It's not like they're teaching us how to actually have sex, that might be something more useful."

"What exactly are they teaching you?" Ignis asks mildly.

"Eggs, sperm, zygotes, uterus, seminal vesicles, all that. Again. Plus this handout about STDs."

"Hmm, well, perhaps not everyone paid as much attention as you did the last time. I expect most teenagers would benefit from a reminder about safe sex practices in any case." He starts mincing vegetables into fine enough pieces that Noctis won't notice them in his food, and Noctis sighs and turns back to his homework. There's a comfortable silence for a while, as Noctis scribbles away and Ignis cooks.

"Hey, Iggy?" Noctis asks, and Ignis glances up from his mixing bowl to see Noctis looking at him curiously, cheeks slightly flushed.

"Yes, Noct?"

"Um. I remember all the stuff you told me, before, about-- illegitimate heirs and arranged political marriages and favoritism."

Ignis blinks a few times. He recalls the conversation in question. When Noctis had started high school, Ignis had been tasked with taking him aside to have a slightly more royal version of the birds-and-the-bees talk, the gist of which had been to make sure Noctis wouldn't fraternize with his fellow students in a way that would cause problems for the Crown. "That's good," he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'm glad to have left an impression."

He goes back to work, mixing meat in with the minced vegetables along with the other ingredients at hand, then turning it out into a loaf pan. He's just finished sliding it into the oven when Noctis begins, "Do you think you could . . . " and then trails off.

"Do I think I could what?"

"I mean, if I can't . . . if I'm supposed to have an arranged marriage, then-- what am I-- how--" Noctis sighs in frustration. "Couldyouteachmeaboutsex?" he asks in a rush, and Ignis has to stop and take a moment to process it into distinct words. When he does, he sets down the dish cloth he was using to dry his hands, and walks around the counter to take a seat at the table.

"I'm happy to answer any questions you may have," he says carefully, folding his hands on the tabletop.

Noctis's cheeks are flushed, and he bites his lip. "I didn't mean like that. I mean-- can you teach me? Can you-- can you show me? You've done it, right?"

I'm so happy to see this updated! I want to say more but I'm bad at words, especially when it comes to heavy subject matter like this, but just know that I really, really like this. My heart.

..... oooooooh my god, yes!!

op here - ooooomg, thank u author anon, i've never had a prompt filled so fast! i love your set up an s i'm super looking forward to the rest of it!

Basically, Gladio is afraid his smaller lover may hurt themselves by trying to hoist and hold his massive frame up despite them pleading to give it a try. He relents and is greatly astonished how his tiny boyfriend can hold him up and ravish him so well, maybe even multiple times. Now he has a bit of a reverse size kink. ;D

Only no-noes are scat, watersports, and derogatory terms.

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Page 136 of 212

Prompt Post Round Five

Re: Fill 9/?: Noctis/Prompto, fake dating

Re: Fill 2/? Re: Gen or Ignis/Noctis- Ella enchanted au

Ardyn & Noctis, Gen, AU Ardyn never lost the throne, Noctis is not a prince

Fill 3/? Re: Gen or Ignis/Noctis- Ella enchanted au

Re: Fill 3/? Re: Gen or Ignis/Noctis- Ella enchanted au

Noctis is in too much to move

Re: Noctis is in too much to move

Gen or OT4: Ignis underestimated by kidnappers

Re: Gen or OT4: Ignis underestimated by kidnappers

ignoct, virginity kink

Re: Fill: 7/7 Re: Trickster God!Ardyn/Prompto

Gen or Any/Any, new game + resets everything

Re: Noctis/Aqua, Kingdom Hearts Crossover Pairing

Re: ignoct, virginity kink

Re: Fill 9/?: Noctis/Prompto, fake dating

FILL: Gen or Ignis/Prompto, Ignis worries about Prompto [3/?]

Re: Fill #2 (5/?): Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family

Re: Fill #2 (3/?): Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family

Re: Fill #2 (3/?): Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family

Re: Fill: 7/7 Re: Trickster God!Ardyn/Prompto

FILL (1/?) Re: ignoct, virginity kink

Re: FILL: Gen or Ignis/Prompto, Ignis worries about Prompto [3/?]

Re: FILL (1/?) Re: ignoct, virginity kink

Re: FILL (1/?) Re: ignoct, virginity kink

Ignis or Noctis/Gladio "Rough sex up against a wall or standing up"