ffxv_kinkmeme | Prompt Post Round Six

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Prompt Post Round Six

Welcome to Round Six 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.
Don't be an asshole.
One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
Fills should have the word "Fill:" at the start of the subject line.
Otherwise please avoid changing the subject line.
No reposting of prompts from previous rounds, please.
No Meme-Police. Only ffxv_kinkbuddyffxv_kinkhelper ffxv_kinkbuddy and ffxv_kinkmod are allowed to mod the meme. If you spot a rules violation, don't comment in the thread, report it on the Ask a mod post.

Please direct any questions or report any problems to the Ask a mod post.

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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Ignis wouldn't let Gladio have the water on as hot as he wanted; said it might make him lightheaded. While that was probably true---and on the one hand, the mental image of the three of them trying to get his big floppy carcass out of this small slippery space made him grin---the part of him that could already feel chills beginning, mentally called Ignis a dick.

It did feel nice to get clean, though, especially given that before long he was going to be all sweaty and gross again. Maybe Iggy would give him one of those sponge baths.

He dried off sitting on the closed toilet---because Six-dammit, there came the weakness, right on schedule---and dressed in a pair of his old sweats. After some consideration, he also pulled on socks. He could always take them off later, but few things sucked as much as trying to sleep with cold feet. By the time he was changed and ready, the pulsing in his head was starting to fuzz his vision in and out, and his perception of the room itself was tilted; he had a vague sense of wrongness, but not in any concrete way. Not good; his temp must be higher than he'd thought. The rash, meanwhile, had asserted itself viciously. It hurt even to wear the soft-sleeved sweatshirt and it would only get worse as the irritation moved around on his body.

Noct and Prompto immediately went to steady him and guide him over to the bed, and he was far too tired and grateful to protest. His bones were starting to ache, inwardly icing over as the flare took hold in earnest. He found himself curling up on his side as they covered him, shivering despite the weight of what felt like several extra blankets. From far away Prompto's voice said, "I don't get it, he's burning up, how can he possibly feel cold?"

It was a good question, but not one he was equipped at that moment to answer. Someone placed a wet cloth on his forehead, and he tried sleepily to mumble his thanks, but he suspected it came out blurry as his leaden eyes closed. Then there was blessed nothingness.

Ignis took the first shift to sit with him; room service sent up a meal for the three of them and clear broth and rehydration drinks for Gladio. The Shield breathed like he was running, his chest rising and falling rapidly in his sleep. Once the first wave of chills shivered through him he uncurled and turned on his back. One hand seemed to search for something, his brow wrinkling in a worried frown as he mumbled something unintelligible. Acting on a hunch, Ignis reached out and placed his hand in Gladio's, pleased at how it closed tight around his and squeezed. Glassy amber eyes opened to blink confusedly at him, as he refluffed the pillow.

"It's alright, Gladio. We're all safe. Noct is in the shower, Prompto is over there playing King's Knight, and I'm here with you. No need for weapons right now."

It seemed to take a moment, but Gladio slowly nodded.

"Good, that's good. Are you hungry?"

A pause, then a slow headshake.

"Will you try to eat a little something anyhow? For me?"

He mumbled what sounded like agreement, and slowly sat up. Ignis helped him upright and brought the spoon to his lips. That seemed to ground him for a moment.

"Iggy? 'Zat?"

"Just broth. Nourishing, but should be tolerable on your stomach. Just a little at a time, okay?"

"....'Kay."

Obediently he took the spoonful and swallowed. Then he smiled that crooked smile and murmured, "You make better n'this."

OP
Yay, new chapter! I'm loving this so much. So good. So much caring.

Warning for dark/serious/emotional IRL shit

OP here. I'm not sure if you'll see this. I wasn't expecting a fill at all, and I'm fucking tearing up, because I made this post right after making the decision NOT to use alcohol and hypothermia to kill myself for New Year's like I'd been planning for WEEKS. I didn't even realize how dark this sounded when I posted it, or think it'd draw concern for ME. like I expected trolls and such, to be seen as fetishizing this kind of shit, I didn't think anyone would be genuinely concerned. I was scared to check back until now.

I wasn't ok, but I'd decided not to end my life that frigid night, and just. I thought of this fandom and of Prompto and hypothermia and Noctis and thought ah, kink meme, take it out on your characters instead. I think I also drunkenly sent a lot of really stupid messages. I just thought, wrt to posting this, maybe get this out there, make this useful to someone. I didn't have the self-awareness at the time to see that I was very obviously dogwhistling for someone, anyone, to use my fandom to help me.

Please publish this on Ao3 if you are comfortable. I want to know who you are, if possible,and if you are comfortable, and tell you who I am, as well. This is beautiful and the world needs to see it.

I'm okay. I'm on different medications and receiving CBT and am clinically diagnosed as an at-risk suicidal psychiatric outpatient. I struggle with it every day. And I thought, who cares, everyone is suicidal, until just the other day an IRL friend told me that WINSTON FUCKING CHURCHILL struggled with significant bipolar disorder and that he was strong not in spite of, but because he struggled. Because he was sick. And I thought of Noctis and had the courage to revisit this prompt(o) post.

I don't have anything to say but thank you. Words fail me. Maybe I'm being overdramatic, but I thought no one would even respond when I posted this. Just. Thank you. Thank you for being so kind. I won't forget this, and I hope that means something, to whoever might read this.

Oh, and I wasn't seriously asking for corpse-fucking, just trying to illustrate with what was at the time a complete inability to use words, hey if you want to to fill this, I don't care how you do it, do whatever the hell you want.

And you did. So. Thank you.

A!A: Well hey there, OP!

Welcome back! <3

Now, I never met you, but it sounds like you've been through some rough times, and I am right glad to hear that you're making it. You got some damned courage there, and you should be proud of yourself! I am! Being unwell is the worst, and I'm glad you're looking after yourself even when it's hard. That's an inspiration right there. I'm floored you came back and read my fill, really I am.

I haven't put this on AO3, and I wasn't planning to, but... I might do it anon. And moderate comments. And maybe you can hit me up there? I'm honored you were able to share the above, and I figure that way, we could chat a bit more.

I'll link it back here if I do, how's that?

Also on ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13836927

WARNINGS: slave auction with noncon touching/fondling, objectification. No actual sex though there is the implication of rape.

***

Ravus has always hated auction day. Niflheim's nasty habit of human slavery used to stop at the border with Tenebrae, but over the years of soldiers stationed there bringing their slaves along, it's started to become accepted. Disgusting.

Still, as the high commander of the military, he's expected to attend, even if everyone knows that he's not going to purchase a slave of his own. It sets him apart from the other officers, and from the government officials, but there are some lines that Ravus will not cross. At least Lunafreya is spared the sight of this. If she were to witness the indignity and degradation to which the Empire subjects its slaves, should would probably do something very dangerous and very stupid, and would likely end up losing her life over the matter. Or being made into a slave herself . . . at which point Ravus would have to buy her at auction to save her from a worse fate.

He frowns and takes a flute of champagne from a passing slave's tray. The chancellor himself acts as auctioneer, introducing the newly captured Lucians. Some of them come as sets -- a group of five politicans' wives, for example, or a selection of sturdy young soldiers. The few surviving glaives, stripped of their magic with the destruction of the crystal, are brought out one at a time. Ardyn plays down the amount of time their new owners will need to spend breaking them in, but plays up their physiques. They're all drugged heavily for the auction, in any case. Ravus supposes they hardly know what's happening to them based on how little they fight.

When they've auctioned off the last glaive, Ravus expects that to be the end of the evening. But Ardyn brings out one more cage, covered with a black sheet. There's a clatter of chains inside, and Ravus furrows his brow. King Regis is dead, the crystal destroyed, but, could it be--?

"And now for our last offering," Ardyn says grandly, a secret smile tilting his lips. He yanks the sheet from the cage, revealing the naked form huddled in the middle. "Oh come now," he says, "don't be such a tease." The restraint control on the side of the cage is activated, and the chains withdraw into the cage, pulling the young man's arms and legs out until he's standing spread-eagled, his back to the audience.

There's a long, jagged scar across the middle of his spine. A black cloth is tied behind his head, nestled in his dark hair -- a gag, to keep him from mouthing off, which means that Ardyn must not have drugged him. Ravus's heart beats faster as he stares, and the crowd around him murmurs with interest.

"The star of Lucis, a creature of true beauty," Ardyn croons as he sets the cage to slowly rotate. As the young man's face is finally revealed, he announces, "Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum." The crowd erupts in scandalized chatter. The glaives were expected as the spoils of war, but the prince? Niflheim usually prefers to execute foreign leaders who won't cave to their demands.

Noctis's eyes are wild, staring out over the crowd, and he struggles against his bonds. At a wave of Ardyn's hand, four MTs approach and detach the chains, holding them tight as the cage unfolds. Noctis thrashes, trying to attack the MTs, but they've got him stretched too far to be able to move. Without his magic, he's no match for them. Ardyn's fingers trail over Noctis's chest, making him shiver and try to squirm away.

"Gorgeous, isn't he?" the woman to Ravus's right says. "I wouldn't mind taking him home."

". . . show those Lucians their magic was no match for our Magitek," a man behind him is laughing, "and their prince is no match for my cock."

"Yes, yes," Ardyn says, "I'm sure you'd all love a chance with the fetching prince." His hands trail lower, cupping Noctis's genitals, and Noctis thrashes harder, his face turning red and his eyes blazing angrily. "Did you know that he's been expected to save himself for marriage?" The murmuring of the crowd increases, and Ravus's fingers tighten on the stem of his glass. "That's right, this perfectly formed young man is a virgin. And some lucky person in this room is going to get to deflower the chosen king of legend. I expect you'll be able to train him up nicely. He seems to be rather responsive, don't you think?" Ravus wants to avert his eyes, but he knows if he does he'll lose standing. Instead he's forced to watch as Ardyn strokes Noctis to hardness. Tears leak from Noctis's eyes, and he tries to headbutt Ardyn but Ardyn steps back just in time.

"He is a fiesty one, isn't he? I'm sure with the right blend of drugs he'll be tamed quite nicely." Ardyn reaches around to squeeze Noctis's behind, and Ravus has to set down his glass to avoid breaking it. He's glad for once that he has a reputation for always appearing angry, because it means nobody will notice anything different now. "Now then, shall we begin at five hundred thousand gil?"

Ravus raises his hand, and makes a bid.

Now this is what I like waking up to! I've been craving more captured Noct.

This is really amazing and lovely, not least because of your style, which is economical without sacrificing emotion, which was especially apt considering the two of them aren't the types to wear their hearts in their sleeves. Basically, I just love this to pieces, and I'm hoping you post it to AO3 someday so I can see what else you've written. <3

Cor's fragile grip on his patience utterly shatters when he makes it back to his office to find two of his newest recruits necking on his desk.

They've not made a start on their clothing yet but from the way the two young women are sucking face and sliding their hands over each other's groins, it clearly wasn't far away.

The sight of their incandescent Marshal though quickly cools their ardour and, white as chalk, they slide off the desk and stand to attention.

"Sir...we...we thought..." gabbles Antonia Sixtus, a tall and willowy red-head. "The...tech survey..."

"We didn't think you'd be back so soon," offered Camellia Drusus, slightly shorter with dark curly hair and skin of a warm, caramel hue.

Cor loses it spectacularly, because it was one thing to find randy teenagers screwing around in every deserted nook, and he would expect no less of Nyx bloody Ulric, the guard are supposed to be the city's finest. The blatant disrespect to him and to their duty is appalling.

He tears a verbal strip off them, and is on the point of dismissing them from the Crownsguard entirely when it becomes clear from their tearful pleas that they had been convinced by an older recruit that this was some sort of unofficial initiation trial.

Cor's not so old that he's forgotten what it's like to be the youngest of the recruits, eager to gain the approval of older and more experienced peers. They have been incredibly gullible and naive, but evidently not deliberately insubordinate. With a frustrated sigh, he tells them to report for 5.30am drills for the next fortnight and tells them to get out of his office.

They are gone in a heartbeat.

Feeling vaguely hysterical, Cor locks the door behind them and resolves not to leave until the building is empty!

***

He buries himself in paperwork and is sufficiently distracted to not notice time pass until a knock sounded at his door. A glance at his watch told him it was late enough that it could only be Clarus or Regis: the rest of the Citadel staff would be off home now.

When he opens the door, he's pleased to see Clarus on the other side. The king's shield greets him with a quick kiss then quirks his eyebrow at the door.

"Working on something too secret?" He jokes. "Not like you to lock your door!"

"After the day I've fucking had..." Cor shakes his head. "You'd have done the same. Apparently it was 'have a fuck at work day'!"

Clarus snorts and guides Cor to his desk chair, pressing the younger man down into the seat. His broad, strong hands immediately began massaging Cor's stiff neck and shoulders.

"Shiva, you are tense!" He notes. "Go on then, let's hear it."

And so Cor relates each incident of his excruciating day: finding Noctis getting a blowjob in the wine cellar, finding Ulric screwing one of his guards up on the roof, finding Noctis again, this time balls deep in the same boy in the gardens, the two young fools on his desk and about Ignis and Gladio's romp in the changing rooms.

"Spare me the details of that one!" Clarus protests at once, raising his hands in supplication. "There are some things a father does not need to know about his son! I'd never have put him with Ignis though. I wonder when that started..."

"Trust me, it was clear to anyone unfortunate enough to have to walk in on them," Cor retorts drily. "That that wasn't their first rodeo. They've been together a while."

As Clarus works on a particularly tender spot, Cor tips his head back with a moan of pleasure. Clarus presses a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, then nips sharply in a way that has Cor's blood rushing to his dick in an instant. He damn well adores it when the bigger man is rough with him.

He feels Clarus grin against his throat at the noises he makes and then one of the shield's large hands slides slowly, tantalisingly downwards to cup the bulge in his pants. Cor's hips thrust into his touch if their own accord.

"Clarus, what are you doing?" He has the presence of mind to ask, but then Clarus undoes his pants, grasps Cor's erection and all rational thought is gone.

"Well you know what they say," says Clarus, with a distinctly mischievous twinkle in his eye. "If you can't beat them, join them! I don't think we've tried it over your desk before have we?"

lmao the things those youngsters get up to. At least Cor's day had a happy ending!

an appropriate conclusion! I loved this fic!!

Short ficlet fill: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13866306

OMG thank you you much for this

It's me, the writer who promissed to deliver about a month ago haha
I hope OP likes it!
Here's the link to the fic on ao3:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13908507

A miracle you say? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

My heart goes out to the guys. What a shitty situation they’re stuck with. But can’t wait for them to get the hell out of dodge.

OP here: Sorry it took me so long, but real life caught up with me as it always does.

So much for Noct keeping it in his bedroom or his pants.

“Ok, this is just getting ridiculous,” Cor says loudly, and they both freeze.

Cor is rapidly approaching the end of his tether, isn't he? Noct acting like a spoiled brat and Cor threatening him with a Crowsnguard chaperone are gold. So is Cor calling Noct a little exhibitionist shit in his head and delivering the death blow with "Use protection." At least Prompto has the good grace to be mortified. ~~It makes me wonder, exactly how often Noct has screwed his way around the Citadel and gotten away with it...?~~.

OP here: Aww, this was perfect.
Cor walking in on two of his recruits getting it on on his desk was priceless. So was that line: Cor's not so old that he's forgotten what it's like to be the youngest of the recruits, eager to gain the approval of older and more experienced peers. Cor may be many things, but a hypocrite he's not. And him reigning in his temper at the thought of his own experience and reversing his dismissal to the Crownsguard equivalent of detention felt much in character.
On a completely unrelated note: He won't have any trouble staffing the early morning drills now, will he?

The ending was perfect and had Clarus helping out with a massage and an open ear
and other methods of relieving that stress... and "Well you know what they say," says Clarus, with a distinctly mischievous twinkle in his eye. "If you can't beat them, join them! I don't think we've tried it over your desk before have we?" killed me. So go on, you two. Join the others :) At least they are professional enough to do so when the Citadel is almost devoid of other people.

OP here: I just read the entire story from start to finish again and I just wanted to tell you once more: Thank you for taking the time and effort to write this :)

THIS REPLY IS SO FUCKING LATE BUT OP LITERALLY WOULD NOT MIND INTERSEX OMEGAS AT ALL,

The realization does not come about slowly. Ignis is simply too busy for those first few years -- he manages to get a more appropriate walking cane and learn how to use it correctly, and before long, the one they’d given him in Altissia is lost somewhere he frankly, doesn’t give a damn about. He learns to read Braille, he tries learning how to fight once more, but it becomes quickly obvious that there is little merit to the practice and he’s doing nothing more than wasting another’s time.

But he finds other things to occupy himself with, things to keep him from wallowing, from falling apart, because he knows if he takes a short moment to ruminate on it all -- something will collapse.

It must happen sometime, though. And so it does. He’s doing nothing more than taking a stroll around Lestallum to clear his head, a day spent making a child read ancient texts to him has worn on his nerves. Talcott is young and tenacious, and Ignis is grateful to the boy for being willing to assist him when everyone else insists there’s nothing to be learned from history. But Astral’s if it isn’t frustrating to listen to him stumble over words like disgrace, and opulence.

He’s only a boy.

Ignis reminds himself, but it doesn’t help the headache pounding behind his ruined eyes. And, given enough time alone, his thoughts are more difficult to control. He thinks on the others as he walks -- how they spend their days saving lives, doing physical, tangible work to keep their people safe, while Ignis curls up in a cozy hotel room and reads books with his time. Occasionally he’ll venture out to Galdin Quay to fish, but what difference does that make? What is he doing to make himself of any use?

No one save for himself finds any value in learning more about the scourge, the founder king and his brother, and he’s starting to wonder why he finds so much value.

What can he change?

Sometimes, when he finds sleep, he has dreams of Noctis pinned against the throne, of the sound of his last breath rattling through his lips. Blood on his chest, staining the dark fabric of his royal raiment.

It’s the only thing he still sees clearly these days.

Will knowledge change the will of the gods?

Noctis would be disappointed in him. If he were here, he’d be with Gladio and Prompto, saving people. Doing good for them.

He cannot save anyone. Not anymore. Not his friends, not strangers, no one.
And even with the work he does to try and bring back the sun, what is he accomplishing? Looks for an alternate solution? One that will not require Noctis to die? Is he truly so selfish?

Ignis walks as he thinks, as his mind tumbles and slips down familiar avenues, as the guilt and anger grips him -- he ought to be better than this, shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he keep learning how to fight? How to be useful, rather than falling victim to his disability? He is no victim -- this was his choice.

For one shining moment Ignis was powerful -- a paladin of light, a warrior fighting on behalf of his king, and he had been brave. Looked the old kings in the face and told them to take what they would if they would only allow his to save Noctis.

Because he would give anything to save Noctis. Always.

Sacrifice, as it turns out, is the easy part. It’s easy to stand tall and brazenly give a part of yourself away. It is the aftermath of that sacrifice that’s so difficult.

And Ignis wears it with shame, with weakness. He gave himself for his king, his king that he’ll never be able to save anyway. What can he do? What has he done? Gotten lost in nightmares of death? Ensured that Noct was able to experience yet another loss? Given him more pain, more guilt?

“My dear boy, your thoughts are so loud I could hear them from Insomnia.” The voice is sudden, dripping like honey and falling like tar from his mouth.

Astral’s-damned daemon --

He whips around too quickly, and is disoriented for a moment. Ignis doesn’t know where he is -- he hasn’t been paying attention. “Chancellor.” He says, evenly, though his chest feels like it’s collapsing.

“Ignis, was it?” The man speaks as if he does not remember him -- as if Ignis is beneath him. “Ah, I do recall… Your foolishness that day is difficult to forget, you know. How have you been coping? Do you still feel righteous, fighting for a man you could never save, regardless of how many limbs you chopped off and offered to the Gods?” His voice is kind, but dark just underneath. Bitter and vindictive.

Ignis thinks he understands. Just a bit. The thought scares him. “So you can read minds now?” He asks -- a deflection. His stomach is nauseous. It’s not easy to swallow -- the knowledge that he’s done nothing but cause unnecessary pain to those around him. Noctis never stood a chance anyway, and Ignis has done nothing but make it worse in his foolishness. What does he think he deserves for that? Sympathy?

“Nothing quite so fantastical, but I had an inkling you may be suffering, child.” Ardyn’s voice darkens, and the space they are in starts to close, the walls absorbing the sound so it is quiet and intimate. “Over the course of my life I have become quite attuned to such things, and you… you are too clever not to recognize your own follies, aren’t you?”

Ignis wonders if Ardyn has the ability to transport them elsewhere -- it would certainly seem he can do it with himself. Are they still in the streets of Lestallum? Has Ignis made his life forfeit by going out on his own?

“If you are hoping to manipulate me, I urge you not to waste your breath. There is nothing you can say to me I have not already considered.” He feels a finger across the back of his shoulders, brief, but no footsteps to accompany it.

He shivers.

“Such a sorry picture you paint, Ignis.” Ardyn sounds almost disappointed in him too. “Were you a work of art, I think I would call you inanis exstinctique. Inanis being a word for a sightless fool, vain in his inability to see past himself. Do you like it?”

Ignis wants to laugh. Ironic in its accuracy, and his lips twist in a rueful sort of smirk. “While also carrying the meaning for darkness, blindness. Quite clever.”

“I thought you might appreciate that.” Ardyn says, and his voice sounds a touch softer, sincere. Not that Ignis thinks to trust it for a second.

“You enjoy inflicting pain.” Ignis says, and his heart begins to beat a touch faster. He can almost hear the way Ardyn’s brows pull together, the unspoken ‘What are you on about, boy?’ floaring between them. “That’s why you’re here, is it not? You’ve won. The city is yours, as well as the army of daemons at your command, but it’s not enough for you. I can think of no other reason why you would deign to exchange pleasantries with myself.”

He hears the footsteps this time. Heavy, vibrating the tip of his cane. And then there is breath hot over his face. Ardyn is close, growling, angry, but his voice does not match his hissing breaths. “You are a clever boy, aren’t you Ignis?”

The air around them is electric, buzzing, and Ignis stands taller.

“And if I told you I wanted you to?”

Ardyn stops. “What?”

His grip on his cane tightens, and he sets his mouth in a firm line. “I am going mad on my own. I’m not certain how longer I may go on with this, until something snaps. It’s as you say. The guilt is…” Ignis sucks in a deep breath. “Overwhelming at times, and I worry I may do something I regret. You are itching with a need to hurt. Use me. All I ask is that you do not kill me or mutilate me further.”

Ardyn is silent for so long, Ignis thinks he may have simply gone. He shifts on his feet and tucks his chin down, but this is his opportunity to atone, is it not? In some small way. “Please.”

And then there is a hand at his throat. Tight enough to cut off his airway, and the breath he tries to suck in is empty. “Do you know what you are asking for, you foolish child?” Ardyn’s voice is still soft in his ear, no doubt watching as Ignis’ face flushes with the need for oxygen.

“Perhaps not.” His voice is little more than a rasp, but he is certain.

“I’ll not adhere to any call for mercy.” Ignis fancies he can feel the magic in Ardyn’s fingertips -- the way he could with Noctis on occasion. It’s heady, buzzing. Familiar.

“Understood.”

And with that, his throat is released, his body tossed to the ground with disdain. Ignis’ cane clatters away somewhere as he gasps for breath, and the sound of the tip of the cane skittering across the ground sounds unfamiliar. He curls up as he sucks in air, fingers trying to soothe the new ache in his throat. “Where are we?”

“Best not to ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Ignis.” Large boots come towards him, roll him other with a swift kick to his ribs, and he recognizes the sound as being similar to marble, belatedly. Ignis groans as he’s sent onto his back, as Ardyn kneels beside him, grabs his chin in his hand and pulls his face up. “You think you deserve this, do you?” He asks, and seems disgusted by the thought that Ignis would feel such responsibility over all this.

Ignis is silent.

“Roll over, then. Show me how much you truly think you deserve.” It’s a test. Ardyn is curious how far he can push before Ignis will begin to push back, but he does not. He rolls onto his front, slowly, and follow the guidance of Ardyn’s hands to pull him onto his hands and knees. He sneers. “Disgusting.”

And then pain blooms across his shoulder blades, blunt and heavy. His arms bend beneath the pressure, but he is silent. The second blow lands across the middle of his back, the third across the back of his legs. Ignis bends beneath the pressure of them all, but returns to his position after each one. Weight on his hand comes next, heavy enough to make him feel like his bones are grinding together. Bright and hot and enough that he hisses through his teeth.

“You think to fool me by manipulating me into feeling as if you are doing me a favor?” Ardyn asks, and yanks his head back by his hair, pulling until his face screws up in pain. “You think I would require your permission to do this to you? You think I would bother? Your misplaced guilt is no concern of mine, you self righteous fool. You are nothing. Say that to me.” His lips are close to Ignis’ ear, close enough to feel breath across the side of his face.

Ignis does not do him the service of responding, and a second later he is thrown to the floor with such strength that his head cracks against the marble floor.

“You are hoping I'll turn myself into your king, aren't you? Whisper all your fears in his voice and fuck you into the floor until I am spent. That's what you want, isn't it? To be told all your self flagellation is warranted? To be proven right? To atone for what you've done for a man you should have never loved?”

Ignis, again, is silent. The pain -- the emotional pain bubbles in him like pustules, ready to burst and leave his body stinging with the agony of it all. “Why should I bend to your whims? The pain you feel is more than I could ever provide, you know that. You only hope for absolution.” Ardyn continues to speak, and as he does, he stops at his head. “Get on your knees then, and serve me the way you would serve him. Show me what dear Noctis will never see.”

And so he does. Crawling to his knees makes his body ache, and his throat burns with each breath.

Oh em gee. This is dark and sick and a dozen kinds of wrong. YASSS IT IS SO GOOOOOD!!!

Nonny you are a gem. <3

Whoa very nice! I like how they're both getting and not getting what they want.

OP HERE AND I AM LOSING MY MIND I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THIS AND NOW YOU GAVE ME THIS AND I AM SHRIEKING, THIS IS SO FUCKED-UP AND TORMENTED AND I LOVE IT, THANK YOU SO MUCH

This was amazing. In all the right ways. The whisper rather than a bang seemed so more befitting of the nature of things ;)

I admit I have not foreseen how Noct and Ardyn's fate would go and this was a great surprise. Reminds me a bit of Sir Terry Pratchett's works, especially the themes of Death and the people who sometimes walk others to the other side.

I'd started this story a while back, and came to see if it was complete today - and as sometimes things go, it was the right moment to see it through to the end.

Thank you for writing such a wonderful, and different story for our guys - it was most enjoyable! ♥

oh my GOD this was so good!!!

Oh my gosh, this was utterly lovely.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 203 of 208

Prompt Post Round Six

FILL: The Cycle, 4/?, Gladio with a high fever, bros care for him

Re: FILL: The Cycle, 4/?, Gladio with a high fever, bros care for him

Re: FILL 1/1: Somewhere Warmer - Promptis, Prompto dies of hypothermia. And then Noctis.

Re: FILL 1/1: Somewhere Warmer - Promptis, Prompto dies of hypothermia. And then Noctis.

FILL 1/1 Re: Ardyn puts captured!Noct up for auction in Niflheim

Re: FILL 1/1 Re: Ardyn puts captured!Noct up for auction in Niflheim

Re: Fill 2/2 Re: Cor/Ignis, ABO, Age Gap, Marriage of Convenience

Fill 5/5, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

Re: Fill 5/5, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

Re: Fill 5/5, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

[Fill on AO3] Gladio/Noctis, Grooming tw: dubcon/noncon underage

Re: FILL: The Cycle, 4/?, Gladio with a high fever, bros care for him

FILL: Noctis- aftermath mind break

Re: Fill 3/? Re: Gladio/Iggy/Prompto/Noct, Cinderella AU

Re: Fill 4/5, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

Re: Fill 5/5, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

Re: Any/Any, 5 times Cor Leonis walked in on people having sex

Re: Young Escort!OmegaPrompto/Older!AlphaBros

Fill: Ignis/Ardyn, atonement for Ignis's "failure"

Re: Fill: Ignis/Ardyn, atonement for Ignis's "failure"

Re: Fill: Ignis/Ardyn, atonement for Ignis's "failure"

Re: Fill: Ignis/Ardyn, atonement for Ignis's "failure"

Re: Fill 8/8 Re: Gen or Ardyn/Noctis, Ardyn Raises Noctis

Re: FILL 1/1 Re: Ardyn puts captured!Noct up for auction in Niflheim

Re: Fill 8/8 Re: Gen or Ardyn/Noctis, Ardyn Raises Noctis