final_fantasy_kink_meme | Prompt Post: Final Fantasy 15 #1

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prompt post 15

Prompt Post: Final Fantasy 15 #1

Here is the Prompt Post for Final Fantasy 15! As the most recent individual instalment, FFXV has a dedicated post in anticipation of higher activity. This round will close when we reach 5000 comments.

Rules

1. All comments to the meme must be anonymous. Linking to fills on Ao3 is allowed, but links must still be posted on anon.
2. Concrit is welcome as per the author, but character bashing, kink shaming, and hijacking (derailing prompts with contrary comments or asking for additions to the prompt) are not allowed.
3. Warning for spoilers and subjects such as non-con, incest, underage and character death is highly recommended, but not mandatory.
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Prompting Guidelines

1. Include the name of the Final Fantasy game/media you're prompting for, followed by the characters involved in the subject title.
2. For pairings use the name/name format (examples: Noctis/Prompto, Locke/Celes, Zack/Cloud/Sephiroth).
3. It's not required but we highly recommend including kinks and content warnings in the subject as well.

Links

Final Fantasy 1-6 Prompt Post: #1
Final Fantasty 7-14 Prompt Post: #1
Final Fantasy 15 Prompt Post: #1
Final Fantasy Dissidia, Tactics, Media and crossovers Prompt Post: #1

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No seriously, I'm terrible at titles, if anyone has suggestions I'm all ears.
________

Ignis' skin goosebumps in the chill of Noct withdrawing, of the heat leaving his back as Ignis steps away from the island. Gladio already has pulled his chair out at an angle from the table to accommodate Ignis taking a seat on his leg.

"Stop gloating," Ignis tells him as he sits, laying an arm over his shoulders for balance. With Noct's weight already lain in Gladio's favor on their little seesaw Ignis' capitulation is all but assured. Eventually.

"Didn't say a word."

"And I suspect the only thing stopping you is the position of my knee in relation to your testicles." Ignis stretches to pick a sausage link from Gladio's plate with his fingers.

"Y'know, if you're looking for sausage. . ."

"Whatever meat ends up in my mouth while I'm at the table will be eaten."

It's hardly escaped his notice intellectually that Gladio is larger than he is—Gladio's larger than everyone—but it is dizzying, to be so delicately perched and still secure, his thigh as solid as any chair Ignis could have. Ignis is too used to other days, other times, when Gladio's warm eyes gazing up at him mean a Gladio pliant and obedient for the evening, not this disorienting sensation of being above Gladio while Ignis is so exposed, the apron's illusion of protection punctured by rough denim.

He leans again, this time attempting to cut himself a piece of pancake; breakfast will be a long process if he's truly expected to eat this way. Gladio tugs the fork from him and forgoes it altogether to tear a piece off by hand. This he eats himself. Then he tears another, folding just a bit of compote in, and holds it up to Ignis' mouth.

The facade of antagonism is pointless to maintain; when it falls away they are left with the rest of what's between them, a partnership with years of practice behind it. What could be a painful process is blissfully simple. Gladio alternates between feeding them, and keeps a hand spread broad and warm over Ignis' bare back to steady him, a sacrifice of his own function for Ignis' comfort. When Ignis isn't distracted by watching Gladio's hand, when his mouth is empty and he can speak, Gladio is there to fill it with neat, delicate bites. Holding onto the thread of conversation becomes impossible.

The others scarcely seem to notice. Prompto and Noct carry on all by themselves, with Gladio offering only an occasional aside as he holds up another bite for Ignis to take from his fingers. As Gladio feeds him, he becomes. . .not self-conscious precisely, but the opposite, ashamed of his arrogance for thinking he would garner attention when the others are simply eating breakfast. Shameful that after his tantrum over being exposed he's now unhappy to be ignored.

Gladio offers him water after a time, careful to let Ignis sip at his own pace.

"I appreciate your restraint in not making this messier than necessary," Ignis murmurs when he pulls the glass away.

"Y'know, with what you're wearing there's no reason I can't," Gladio says with a playful tug at the apron. "Take it off and then you'll have an excuse to worry."

Noct glances up from his plate. "Gladio, leave it."

The rebuke is casual but firm, and though it isn't directed at Ignis it lurches through him regardless.

Prompto chatters on, not that Ignis would ever take it to mean he's uncaring. He's seen Prompto manage the same tone with the entirety of Gladio's hand inside of him, Gladio teasing Ignis at the dining table must barely rate. Noct has turned back to picking carefully at his frittata. Gladio is smiling as he folds a large slab of pancake into his own mouth.

It's as if the interruption never happened.

Ignis looks around the table at them, the empty chair he would otherwise fill. One wouldn't trouble themselves to draw a piece of art on display into a conversation no matter how much you admired it. Noct's awareness settles on him like a weight that drags his limbs down, splaying him wider as more of his tenuous control is wrested from him.

"Kills me how you can be so shy about shit like this when I bet you're still loose from getting fucked last night," Gladio says, resettling him by the waist.

He has no way to explain that what is a stepping-stone between the two for Gladio is a canyon to Ignis, and spanning it doesn't carry anything like the rush of adrenaline and absolute control over his body that traversing a real tightrope does. Or why it takes so much careful effort for him to be at ease here when in the dark, as a mass of limbs he can lose himself in, to offer himself for their pleasure is second nature. Subsuming his want to theirs is the easy part.

"Hey," Gladio says as he frowns. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't." The corner of his mouth tugs crooked to pucker the bottom of his scar, still disarmingly attractive after all these years. "And if you were easy all the time it'd be like having another Prompto around."

"Hey!"

As if Ignis still had any doubts Prompto was paying attention. "I don't think you can make any claims about Prompto's eagerness that don't apply to yourself as well."

"Didn't say they didn't." Gladio hauls the leg closest to him over his other thigh, spreads Ignis wide with the apron falling between his thighs and brushing against him, and he's pried open just as much by Gladio pouring desire into his voice with a confidence he could never hope to match. "But you already know I don't make a point of hiding how much I want you." Anything else he might say is cut off by the ugly screech of a chair scraping on the flagstone. Ignis looks over just as Prompto folds to his knees in front of Noct with an equally enviable grace and reaches for the waistband of Noct's sweatpants.

Gladio says, "You're eating," and turns Ignis back with a knuckle on his cheek. It digs in when Ignis attempts to look again.

"You're intolerable," Ignis says. How quickly enchantment evaporates when one is denied. Out of the corner of his eye he can still see Prompto's back and the soles of his bare feet.

"Open up," Gladio says, holding up a sausage link, and when Ignis attempts to bite he pulls away, leaving him chasing it, overbalancing as he leans forward. Gladio shifts to effortlessly redistribute his weight, and holds it up again. "Open your mouth."

When Ignis does as he's been asked, Gladio taunts him by pushing the whole link of sausage into Ignis' open mouth then withdrawing it, once and then again, a mockery of other pleasures. He leaves it resting on Ignis' bottom lip like he's a pet trained to let a treat rest on its own nose until it's signaled to eat. Ignis glares with frustration he can't voice when he knows Gladio would be swiftly corrected if he'd erred.

Shining in the bright morning light Gladio's eyes are the clear amber of melted sugar on its way to caramel, sweet and warm. "Go ahead."

Ignis' teeth tear into the taut casing like a feral animal instead of a trained one. Drippings spill into his mouth, herbal, spicy—the one he'd chosen for Prompto then. He gives it the due attention he didn't the first time, savoring the richness, even the building heat of the chili in the back of his throat as Gladio allows him each bite.

If he hadn't prepared the food himself he might believe it's all been laced with much more than ginger and cardamom and sage, that there must be a stronger aphrodisiac working in him than Noct's approval of his entertainment. Any hope or care for his dignity regarding the apron is a thing of the past under the full-scale assault of Noct's heavy breathing and the sounds of Prompto's wet mouth as Gladio hammers hard at the rest of his senses.

Next Gladio offers a bite of pancake the purpled red of a fresh bruise and Ignis waits lewdly, patiently with his mouth open, his lips going dry and tacky in the air until he's granted permission, though he couldn't say what gives it. Something in Gladio's eyes perhaps. It's sodden with berries that burst into tart brightness in his mouth, dressed heavily to ooze when Ignis bites down, leaving a drop on his lip Gladio wipes away with his thumb and offers Ignis again. When a piece of frittata rests in Gladio's open palm Ignis bends to close his teeth around it, flicks his tongue out to clean a few bits left behind, shifting his hips against the harsh twill as tender skin fills and sensitizes. The food quickly becomes little more than a pretense for letting Ignis lick Gladio clean of flakes of pastry, smears of grease, the sweet, spicy warmth of the compote.

Gladio offers another swipe of the glistening sauce and groans, "Fuck, you look good like that," when Ignis takes it, leaving his mouth hanging even as Gladio slides two fingers in over his waiting tongue. There is a rightness to being an open hole to be filled now. It is all sensation, and with the floodgates open to let it in Ignis is helplessly greedy for more.

The sound of Noct moaning with pleasure will always draw his attention. When Ignis looks over this time Gladio makes no attempt to curb him. Indeed he turns Ignis out for a better look, rubbing his hand over the inside of Ignis' thigh.

As they watch Noct with his head thrown back against his chair Gladio's hand drifts down from Ignis' back, teasing along the crease and then lower. Ignis exhales a soft moan of his own, a quiver of nerves. Gladio would be careful, but careful with Gladio's size and strength would still be emphatic, an intrusion of well-used flesh.

"I know," Gladio murmurs, "I've got you."

Ignis sighs and leans into him. That much was never in doubt.

Gladio continues stroking over skin that's still exquisitely sensitive, not with any real intent, simply to tease, to touch. "How's that?" he says, hardly a question when Ignis has tilted his hips to grant better access, presented himself. Gladio moves in time with the rhythm of Prompto at Noct's feet, of Noct's hand petting his hair. Even apart they might all move in concert, and Ignis, aching for the touch of something other than fabric that has outlived its usefulness, could be moving with them.

Gladio catches his wrist as he reaches to push the apron aside. "Yeah, Noct's not gonna like that."

It would be bad enough without Noct's lazy glance over at his name, glassy-eyed and panting. He takes a moment to focus on what he's seeing, then frowns with a warning, "Specs."

Such simple chastisement sends a hot rush of humiliation over him, the real thing of a game they've only played at. He is suddenly wavering with only one foot on the ground and Gladio shifting under him, lifting Ignis' arm from over his shoulders. It's only right; the consequences of such a lapse ought to be swift and severe. His mind grasps at fragments through the dizziness to steady himself, trying to right itself from a tailspin, the profligacy he should never have allowed—the table will need to be cleared, dressing will be out of the question until that's done at least. . .

—only to find Gladio pinning both wrists to Ignis' back under his hand.

Gladio pushes the apron higher up Ignis' leg with his free hand, drawing a shameful shiver. Ignis tugs fruitlessly at Gladio's grip. "Gladio, this is not necessary."

"That's real cute, you thinking it's up to you." Gladio's free hand grazes over Ignis' leg as he looks at Noct. "Anything in mind?"

"You want Iggy too?" Noct says as he closes his fist in Prompto's hair, and laughs, "Yeah, I figured," when Prompto's response is an eager hum and nod.

It's pleasure Ignis doesn't deserve after being so plainly selfish when Gladio has only doted on Ignis, when for all of Prompto's eagerness he hasn't twitched towards the tell-tale drape of his gym shorts. Ignis yanks again at his wrists. For his trouble he gets, "You heard him. You're Prompto's next," and Gladio hiking his knee up to hitch him in closer, folding Ignis' wrists higher, tighter against his back. "Pretty hot watching you losing it, though," says the man who's now preventing him from doing much of anything. It is not only a balm, cool water pouring over the burn of shame, it is a gift. Ignis will be kept where he is wanted, used how he is wanted, guarded from the need for self-control. The bones of Ignis' wrists grind as the iron grip tightens, holding him fast against the riptides of doubt that might sweep him away.

Though Gladio has eyes only for Noct and Prompto, he's careful to obey the bounds marked by the apron, damn him, idly stroking the expanse of Ignis' inner thigh up to the hollow of Ignis' hip and no more, mere inches from his cock. Ignis has been rescued from his moment of panic so quickly his body hadn't a chance to falter, but there is no shame in him for that now, not when he is at the mercy of his protector.

Gladio had known the throne room since he’d been old enough to think. Even as barely more than toddler, he had come here with his father, always trying to strike an intimidating pose like he’d been told: back straight, chin up, knees locked. King Regis had impressed him as he grew up in the Citadel, while the young prince had at first seemed like a querulent baby from Gladio’s vantage point of three years older. Funny how wise and old and adult you could feel at fourteen.

It seemed a lifetime ago that Gladio had doubted him. Noctis had lived up to everything the world had asked of him and that had been more than a single human should be able to shoulder. Most amazing of all – Noctis had also lived through it.

It had taken ten long, dark years, but Noctis finally sat on the throne where he had always belonged. He lifted his gaze as Gladio’s footsteps echoed in the giant hall. A week after their battle against Ardyn, the sight of Noctis in his rightful place still took Gladio’s breath away.

He ascended the first set of stairs, but stopped on the middle platform, looking up at the throne.

“Pretty late in the day to call for me. I’d expected you’d be asleep by now. I guess some things really did change.”

Noctis smiled down at him. By the Six, Gladio could stand here for hours just drinking in his sight. He’d been gone for far, far too long.

“Come up here,” Noctis said.

Gladio followed the order, coming to stand by his side just as Noctis lifted himself out of his throne. An inquisitive tilt of his head was extended far further down than planned as Noctis grabbed the side of his head and tugged him downwards into a kiss.

“We have had too little time together since I’ve been back,” Noctis said against his lips.

“We’ve had too little time together since we started dating,” Gladio murmured.

Quiet trysts in the underbrush behind the tent, fumbling kisses on the train, ten years of fucking nothing, and now they were just scrambling to rebuild a world that has teetered on the brink. There had never been much time for the two of them. It was just the way it was and Gladio did not usually complain, but gods, sometimes it grated.

The grip on his head grew tighter, fisting painfully into the long, dark hair, which sent bolts down right into his gut. Though he could have resisted, he never did with Noctis. He allowed his king to bend his head back so he could press his mouth to Gladio’s throat. His hands tightened painfully on Noctis’ shoulders. The scratch of his new beard was still unfamiliar and made Gladio eager to know how it’d feel on other parts of his body.

“Still obedient,” Noctis murmured.

“You haven’t lost your bossy streak, either.”

Noctis sank his teeth into Gladio’s neck.

“Isn’t the royal bedroom refurbished by now?”

“I want to do it here,” Noctis said, hands sliding down the over his back, then grabbing Gladio’s ass, yanking him close.

“Well, a royal demand’s a royal demand,” Gladio muttered, shoving his hands under Noctis’ shirt, but stopping himself, calling on the last remaining reason in him. “The doors aren’t locked, though.”

“It’s late. Besides, I’m the Chosen King. Who is going to tell me I can’t have my Shield in my own castle?” Noctis said, bemused.

Still a brat after all these years. However, as Gladio imagined Noctis fucking him over the railing before the throne, not pausing even as some unfortuate Kingsglaive member blundered in, it almost made him groan. Noctis nipped at his throat once more.

“Strip,” he commanded, stepping back.

Gladio licked his lips, which felt suddenly dry. He glanced at the door once more, but then decided to throw caution to the wind, kicking off his boot before he pulled off pieces of the Crownsguard uniform one by one, finally standing stark naked in front of the throne and the king. Noctis looked him up and down.

“So many new scars,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t lazing around waiting for you.”

Noctis traced his fingers over the marred skin, serrated claw marks, burns of ice and fire and lightning, pinpricks of fangs, clean cuts of blades.

“Obviously not.” Noctis halted. “While you waited... did you have anyone else?”

Gladio shrugged his shoulders.

“Nah. You weren’t gone forever, after all.”

The careful blankness in Noctis’ expression dissolved into relief and then satisfaction. He surged forward, pulling Gladio down to crash their mouths together.

Of course he’d waited. He had waited ten years for him because the alternative was convincing himself that Noctis was dead and he had never been able to accept that. His duty to Noctis was written on his skin, he carried his oath to him in his Amicitia blood, and Gladio was sure if you cut him open, you’d find Noctis’ name graved into his fucking bones somewhere. There hadn’t ever been an alternative to waiting.

As they kissed, Noctis turned him around and backed him towards the throne, pushing until Gladio fell down on it. His knee was between his thighs and Gladio found himself rutting helplessly up against the smooth fabric covering his thigh, cock already rock-hard.

“Turn around,” Noctis said breathlessly, stepping back.

Gladio did, which left him kneeling on the seat of the throne, hands on the armrests. He heard a bottle uncork. Noctis slick fingers trailed between his cheeks.

“You planned this, huh?”

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to do this for days,” Noctis groaned, some of that youthful impatience that used to fill him still tingeing his voice. Gladio laughed.

He felt tight as the first time when Noctis fucked him with two fingers as he mouthed at Gladio’s back. The stretch burned, but Noctis had never taken him gently and Gladio like it that way. He wanted to feel him for a little while even after they where done. He pushed back against his hand and Noctis sucked a mark into his shoulder.

“I decide when you get more,” he told him.

Gladio grunted. “Just hurry up.”

He jabbed into him and Gladio swallowed what had threatened to become a whimper. It hurt. He loved it.

“That’s not the right answer,” Noctis said, tangling his free hands in Gladio’s hair again. “Try again.”

Gladio knew what Noctis wanted to hear, what he wanted to say, and after a moment of silent petulance, he relented gladly.

“Yes, your Highness.”

Noctis hummed and kissed his ear. Three fingers were moving inside Gladio now, wet, teasing him in the most sensitive spot, and fuck, fuck, he needed Noctis to get on with it. Thankfully, it seemed like the decade-long wait made sure Noctis wasn’t in the mood for games, either. Gladio moaned as he felt his fingers leave him and the head of his cock pushing against his entrance instead. Noctis wrapped his arms around Gladio’s barrel chest, pulling him backwards, letting him precariously teeter on the edge of balance for a moment before Gladio grabbed on to the throne again, leaning back into Noctis as his king began thrusting into him, long, deep pushes that had his thighs quaking.

Noctis was biting and kissing his neck over and over and Gladio knew he’d have half a dozen marks above the collar and even his hair wouldn’t hide them all. No matter, he thought, breath going harshly, blood running hot as he heard Noctis pant in his ear. Noctis had a right to mark what was his and Gladio wanted everyone to see.

He lasted a pitifully short time; it was over as soon as Noctis just touched his cock and gave it a few quick strokes. He came over the throne as his king fucked into him, holding him by his hair like it was a leash, and he thought for a moment he would pass out with bliss. Good thing he didn’t ‘cause he would have missed Noctis spending himself inside him, clawing red furrows into his chest. He collapsed against Gladio’s back. For a moment, Gladio let his forehead drop again the cold velvet covering the throne.

“I missed you,” Noctis said quietly.

Gladio cleared his throat, which suddenly felt very tight.

“Yeah,” he managed.

Before Noctis pulled out, he placed a kiss between Gladio’s shoulder blades. Gladio’s knees ached from being pushed against the hard seat so much as he stretched them out. Grabbing his Crownsguard vest, he cleaned his seed from the throne, then balled it up before he put on his pants and boots. Noctis watched him with a lopsided smile. He had tucked himself back in.

“Very respectful,” he joked.

“Bet you didn’t want to sit in that tomorrow,” Gladio muttered. “So am I gonna get to see that royal bedroom tonight?”

“I think that can be arranged.”

They walked side by side out of the throne room, Gladio carrying his vest, shirtless, wearing a thousand hints to what they had done on his skin. He tensed a little as he heard footsteps, but relaxed when he saw it was Ignis, who would not notice he had just slipped out of the throne room half-naked.

“Evening,” he said.

Noctis gave a vague greeting.

“Ah. Are you done now?”

“Done?” Noctis looked at him and Ignis just raised a brow. Gladio could feel heat creep up his neck.

“What... you couldn’t have seen us,” Noctis said.

“You were loud enough that I could get a general impression of what was going on.” Ignis sounded more exasperated than offended, really. Couldn’t get too mad at Noctis doing something fun for once after the shit show that had been his destined fate in life, Gladio assumed. “There are a few things we still need to go over regarding the staffing of the Kingsglaive, Noct. It should only take a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Noctis said, glancing at Gladio. He got on his toes and Gladio leaned his head down to kiss him. “Wait for me in the bedroom.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense for ten years this time, princess,” Gladio said quietly.

Noctis grinned even as grabbed his hand and held it for a moment.

“I promise.”

I read this on a bus because I was too impatient to wait until I was home.

THAT WAS A MISTAKE, THIS IS HOT AS FUCK

Was prepared for it to be hot as hell (and was it ever), but was not expecting the feels! That little I missed you in the middle there – damn that’s lovely. And Gladio admitting to having waited for Noct all those years. <3

Also? Noctis had a right to mark what was his and Gladio wanted everyone to see. SO
HOT.

God, nonnie, I love that fic so much, I can't express it. This kind of submission, where Ignis will take orders or provide service easily, but it's so hard for him to be appreciated or cared for, and the way Noct and Gladio and Prompto deal with it, gently and carefully and surely - it's KILLING me. I want 10245345 words of this. It's so hot, and so gentle, and I love how close he's to panic and tension and yet how safely held and protected and cherished. Damn.

For his birthday, Gladio gets fucked by all three bros at once and loves it.

+ he's had Ignis and Noct at once before, but Prompto's new to it and nervous but both of them are thrilled

The Amicitias and Scientias arrange a marriage between the eldest sons of their family for diplomatic/political reasons. Gladio and Ignis are not particularly happy with this development.

Can be a canon!AU or a complete setting!AU. I'm happy with anything, so long as they both detest each other's guts upon first meeting. Does Gladio hate Ignis's superior manners and detest his father taking away yet another one of his few freedoms? Does Ignis think Gladio's nothing but a meathead, and is he resentful that he's a pawn for his family's political ambitions? Do they eventually bond over their shared lack of freedom (and, uh, other attractive attributes)?

++++ An extremely awkward-but-unexpectedly hot consummation night for both of them, after which they then do their best to avoid each other.

Nonnie this is scorchingly hot, hot damn. Gladio rutting Noct's thigh? YES PLEASE I am here for this well bells on. A+++

Ignis can only rock against the useless fabric of the apron as he and Gladio watch—who he envies more at this moment is impossible to say. Gladio clamps his hand like a vise on Ignis' thigh to force him still and growls, "Settle down," the gentlest of or elses when Ignis has been freed from obedience. It feels too good to be real hurt, though more than enough to bring Ignis' futile clenching to a shuddering stop. His cock betrays him with an eager throb under the apron that makes Gladio give a pleased hum Ignis might call purring if it were the sound of a coeurl and not a housecat. He squeezes hard enough to punch the breath out of Ignis' chest, and then begins to knead the flesh in large handfuls over and over, leaching the tension from Ignis' muscles with a harsher pleasure.

It's impossible to know simply from watching Noct how close he is; he's seldom effusive, more one to soak up pleasure than shout it. The telling of it is all in Prompto kneeling up, redoubling his efforts, hard and fast, and Noct falls silent, only steady panting. Ignis knows too well what the sensation of Noct's cock growing harder in his mouth before he comes is like, he can practically taste it. Gladio must too: his hands tighten, his breath rough but measured as Noct's hips lift off the chair, a few thrusts into Prompto's mouth right at the end that Prompto lets roll through him like waves.

Prompto stays there when Noct has done moving and melted back down into his chair, watching them through the filter of half-closed lashes. He pats Prompto's shoulder, and for a moment after he pulls off Prompto is hunched over like he's pain, clinging to Noct's waist like he's drowning. Then they are bent together, his face in Noct's hands, Prompto laughing at whatever Noct has whispered to him.

"Can you make some room for when he's done trying not to come in his shorts?" Noct says with a glance at Gladio, and Prompto groans, burying his face between Noct's thighs. His pained arousal is a siren call; Ignis would just as soon fall to the floor and end Prompto's misery as his own. When he moves it is Gladio hoisting him up to slide back and get Ignis' other leg over his own, an arm over his collarbone to pin him back and catch his wrists tight between them.

"It's gonna be a minute," Prompto chokes out.

"That's fine," Noct adds with a teasing gleam in his eye. "You're not in any rush, are you, Ignis?"

"He'll be just fine," Gladio says in Ignis' ear, grabbing another handful of his thigh with his free hand. It's no match for the sight of Prompto crawling between Gladio's feet. The loose collar of Prompto's shirt is even more enticing than when Ignis first saw him, Prompto grinning up at him with his wispy, unstyled hair covering his forehead and a freshly-fucked mouth, brushing kisses against Gladio's knuckles and the reddened patch of Ignis' thigh in a greeting before he begins fussing with the apronstrings. Ignis thrusts up against even that meager pressure, more than he's had all morning. Even the abrasion of the twill as Prompto heedlessly tugs at it is welcome, so much Ignis fails to notice Noct standing behind Prompto until he is a shadow bending over them.

He tries to turn away—he's unwashed, hasn't so much as brushed his teeth—only to find himself gasping at Gladio's thumb and finger prodding the underside of his jaw. What he assumed was an attempt to kiss him is much more, and whatever remnants of his control could possibly remain are banished as Gladio holds him by the throat so Noct can tug his spectacles off. He is. . .reduced, undone.

Noct watches him placidly, folding his spectacles and hooking them over the collar of his own shirt. He is untouchable and not because Ignis cannot touch. He is immovable, no tension and all satisfaction. Begging for the very last of his armor back would grant Ignis nothing, he's sure of it, and he cannot name that knowledge peaceful when he's filled with so much want, but it is as it should be.

There is muttered cursing from the floor, and when Ignis drops his gaze Prompto's hair is only an indistinct halo as he frowns at the apronstrings, until Noct takes pity on his losing battle and flips the whole apron out of the way.

"Oh, thank fuck," Prompto sighs. He holds the knot of it at his hip as he takes the head of Ignis' cock in his mouth with a delighted swirl of his tongue. Ignis' moan is thankfully modulated by Gladio's hand caging his throat. Noct bunches the fabric between his nipples first to brush both thumbs over them, drawing another sound from him—they are as exquisitely sensitive as the rest of him—and then to roll them between his fingers.

Ignis' reticence to be the center of so much attention has always been more than propriety: with both of them on him his senses have gone from filled to flooded, overwhelmed. Noct's gentle touch begins to slide into a deep throb of squeezing and releasing pressure, and Ignis has no defense against the intensity building. Devastated by the onslaught, he curls in, or tries anyway. There's no relief when it is all muscles on fire straining against their hands and bodies, his throat and arms caught and thighs pinned open while Prompto moans in pleasure around his cock as though he's another course to the meal.

"You really love getting fucked, don't you?" Noct says.

The clamp on Ignis' neck squeezes so very gently. "Puts on a hell of a show too."

As he always will when he has nothing else left, Ignis says, "Noct," his voice a rough, broken thing in his own ears, choked by the cage of Gladio's palm and his own fear.

Noct bends to kiss Ignis as he burns, his forehead, his open panting mouth. "Let it happen," Noct says in between lush, open-mouthed tastes of him, "we're not going anywhere."

Although it feels like Ignis has already been pushed over the precipice and can now only wait to fall the moment must be longer than it seems—his cock throbs in Prompto's wet heat, his chest in Noct's hands, his throat in Gladio's, pulse after pulse of being fucked by all of them. Even with time to brace himself it still hits him with the force of a bolt of Noct's lightning, tearing him apart from the inside out as he writhes futilely for more of Prompto's mouth, more heat, not reduced but purified by fire, with the parts of him Noct has no need of set aside and the rest a wanton plaything spread over Gladio's thighs.

The heat is more than he can bear, Prompto's nose pressed against him, swallowing around him as Ignis comes down his eager throat. The sounds Noct takes from his mouth are shameless until they are drowned out by the rush of his own blood, the inferno blotting out the rest of his senses. He cannot see Noct as his vision greys but he can feel all of them. Feeling is all Noct has left him.

Ignis trembles afterwards, his body nearly aching at the loss of tension, so disoriented he can hear talking but not words. The grey becomes black; his eyes are closed and he is too wrung out to bother opening them, to move. He has no need to worry when he's still being held. Indeed he's lifted with no effort of his own, scooped up under each thigh then jostled until he's cradled by the crook of his knees and under his back.

He is able, as his senses return, to take stock as Gladio cushions a hand under his neck and lays him down in the warmth of another body. He is on the sofa between Noct's legs, Gladio sitting on the open cushion at their feet. Prompto has planted himself in Gladio's lap with not a moment to lose.

"There's a blanket," Noct points out quickly, circling Ignis in his arms.

Ignis sighs in contented exhaustion at the proof of Noct's life beating against his back. The absurdity of the apron still tied around him isn't lost on him. "I'm flattered you think I'd have the wherewithal to complain."

"Well, you know," Noct says as he begins working at the mangled knot of the apron ties. "I know how seriously you take upholstery."

He knows a great deal more than that. Ignis is. . .entirely known. The thought doesn't hold quite the same terror it did when he braved the cold a few hours ago. For the moment his world has contracted to all he truly needs, the four of them sharing breath and food and pleasure, and there is no room or cause to hide in a sphere so small and safe, though he shied at the thought of loving something that felt like it could kill him, consume him. Yet all he's known in the world as intense as being enveloped by the three of them is power a human body isn't meant to hold, pain that was unimaginable.

Yes, for better or worse so much it could kill him is precisely how Ignis loves.

Behind him Noct snorts in disgust. "Prompto, what the hell did you do to this thing?"

"I was a little distracted at the time!"

"Yeah, look at you," Gladio says. "Got yourself all worked up sucking off Iggy and Noct."

"If you're gonna be jerk about it maybe I don't want you touching me," Prompto says, all petulance, completely at odds with the way his hips roll in Gladio's lap, grinding their cocks together through their clothes. "Maybe I'm gonna do it myself and make you watch."

Gladio pulls him in tighter with both hands shoved down the back of Prompto's shorts, pushing them down over the swell of his ass. "You couldn't make me do anything even if I had one hand tied behind my back—both hands."

"I could make you come," Prompto says, and Gladio throws his head head backing laughing, full-bellied, just gorgeous.

"Then get to it." His fingertips leave divots in Prompto's hip as Prompto's teeth scrape his throat. Their abandon is beautiful, infectious even when Ignis is already sated, and Prompto is luminous with pleasure at giving pleasure to all three of them. A hat trick, he likes to call it.

Noct grunts in annoyance at the apronstrings.

"It's beyond hope, I'm afraid," Ignis tells him, moving to push himself up. "Let me—" The gap between them has widened to let Noct's shirt brush his back when his instinct is cut short by Noct's hand splayed through the apron.

"Nah, I'm not going to lose to an apron if I have to pull something from the freaking Armiger," Noct says. "Stay, relax. Enjoy the show. Then we nap."

"Why am I unsurprised?" Ignis says, but under the welcome weight of that hand and voice he leans back and, as he always will, lets Noct undo him.

God, I love it more than words can express. So gorgeously and brilliantly right.

NICE. Loved the tenderness, the glasses, Prompto's hair, about all of it.

I loved this!!! :D

Prompto's made from mad scientist DNA, so it's not impossible that this could happen? Maybe it's genetic. Maybe its SRMD. Maybe Ardyn played to many mind games. In any event, Prompto's snapped and is now cackling manicly while building a death ray.

Seriously, where are the sexy physical therapist fics in this fandom?

Gladio (or Noct) has been having some knee pain lately. Prompto, who's had knee problems before and has gotten treatment for 'em in the past, recommends a physical therapy center to him. After a few more days/weeks of pain, Gladio (or Noct) gives in. He makes an appointment, shows up--and awkwardly discovers that his physical therapist is super-hot, goddammit.

Preferred pairings in the title!

Would that be DP + blowjob? I'd like to fill this, but triple penetration might be difficult just logistics-wise in where you'd put the guys, heh.

Prompto is so nervous about losing his virginity that he decides, to hell with it, he is just going to hire a sex worker and get it over with. He combs through some ads and finds this really handsome older guy, who turns out to show him a very good time.

OP will take anything you can think of, realistically physically possible or otherwise <3

Late to the party but I loved this????!!

(crossposting from another meme because my thirst is great)

In which Prince Noctis is cursed to eternal slumber by a capricious and vengeful fae, but said capricious and vengeful fae could be convinced to release him from the curse--if, say, one of the prince's brave young companions willingly serves him for [insert period of time that could either be the traditional year and a day, or anything up to the full ten years].

Would very much prefer a scenario where either a) Ardyn genuinely just wants a servant and has no designs on Prompto but then whoops they fall in love or b) Ardyn very much does have designs on Prompto but has to carefully negotiate the "willing" part of their magical contract so he just tries to be seductive and charming and wait for Prompto to come to him. Either way, please no non-con, but please YES elaborate fairy tale hijinks.

Author!anon here. Thanks so much. <3 I ship Gladnoct too much to not slip in a few feels with the sex, heh. And marking is the best... that giant tattoo is just still not enough for Noctis, haha.

Author!anon here, thanks so much, happy it worked! Really had a fun prompt to work with here.

Author!anon is also late to checking back due to real life. Happy you liked it!

[Couldn’t resist taking a shot at this with Prompto! This will probably not involve any actual sex, but lots of touching and also drugging for compliance.]

Prompto comes to consciousness little by little, gradually becoming aware of the sound of running water somewhere close by and hands working on the straps and buckles of his snow gear. When he realizes whose hands they are, he tries to shove them away, but his arms feel loose and heavy and he ends up just pushing weakly at Ardyn’s shoulder.

“Ah, there you are.” Ardyn’s voice is low, gentle. “I was beginning to worry.”

His hands slide under Prompto and, despite the feeble attempts at resistance, lift him into a sitting position to divest him of his jacket. Prompto slumps forward, his head falling onto Ardyn’s shoulder. This close to him without a gun in hand, a spike of fear pierces the fuzziness in Prompto’s brain—and then another as Ardyn’s hands slide under his shirt and glide along bare skin.

“Wha—what are you—“ is all he gets out, the last word muffled as his shirt is pulled over his head.

“Just bear with me a moment,” Ardyn murmurs as he lays him back down. His hands linger on Prompto for just a few moments, thumbs stroking lightly over his skin, before he reaches down to remove the boots. Prompto’s attempt to kick him is as ineffectual as everything else has been, but for his trouble he gets a hand wrapped around his ankle in a grip hard enough to bruise, and Ardyn’s soft, cajoling voice turns to cold steel as he says “None of that.”

Then he’s back to soft and gentle, whispering “Shhh,” in response to Prompto’s weak protest as those relentless hands undo his belt. Casting about for something to focus on besides the fact that Ardyn Izunia is taking off his pants and he can’t do anything about it, Prompto notices that Ardyn, too, is much less clothed than usual—just a shirt and trousers, his feet bare and his sleeves rolled up past the elbows. It’s so weird to see him without, like, five other layers of clothing that it’s a few seconds before Prompto’s fuzzy brain can work past that to being grateful he’s not more undressed and hoping it stays that way.

Then the last of Prompto’s clothing is being pulled away, and it’s a weird, stomach-churning mashup of every bad dream he’s ever had about showing up to class naked and every worse dream he’s ever had where he’s facing down an enemy and grabs for his gun but it’s not there, and Ardyn is slipping one arm around his back and another beneath his knees and lifting him from the bench he’s been lying on.

Head lolling against Ardyn’s shoulder, Prompto finally gets out the question he tried to ask earlier, much as he dreads the answer. “What are you doing?”

When Ardyn answers, Prompto can feel every word reverberate through his chest. His voice is patient and indulgent now, as though he were explaining something to a child. “My dear boy, I know customs in Lucis differ somewhat from those here in Niflheim, but I’m quite certain they have baths there.”

Ayyyy OP is jumping for joy! A fill with Prompto is going to be amazing! Thank you so much for filling.

Inspired by this thread: https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/303698.html?thread=1727679058#cmt1727679058

What it says on the tin because yes please?

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 5 of 11

Prompt Post: Final Fantasy 15 #1

Re: FILL: (3/4) OT4, D/s, Ignis naked except an apron

Fill: Gladio/Noct, Noct is a pushy, dominant top

Re: FILL: (3/4) OT4, D/s, Ignis naked except an apron

Re: Fill: Gladio/Noct, Noct is a pushy, dominant top

Re: FILL: (3/4) OT4, D/s, Ignis naked except an apron

Gladio/All Bros - Birthday Triple Penetration

FFXV: Gladio/Ignis - Arranged Marriage (Enemies-to-Lovers Edition)

Re: Fill: Gladio/Noct, Noct is a pushy, dominant top

Re: FILL: (4/4) OT4, D/s, Ignis naked except an apron

Re: FILL: (4/4) OT4, D/s, Ignis naked except an apron

Re: FILL: (4/4) OT4, D/s, Ignis naked except an apron

Re: FILL: (4/4) OT4, D/s, Ignis naked except an apron

Prompto going full mad Scientist (Ep Prompto spoilers)

FFXV: Gladio/Ignis, Noctis/Ignis, or Noctis/Luna - Physical Therapy AU

Re: Gladio/All Bros - Birthday Triple Penetration

Ardyn/Prompto, escort Ardyn AU

Re: Gladio/All Bros - Birthday Triple Penetration

Re: Fill: Gladio/Noct, Noct is a pushy, dominant top

Ardyn/Prompto fairy tale AU

Re: Fill: Gladio/Noct, Noct is a pushy, dominant top

Re: Fill: Gladio/Noct, Noct is a pushy, dominant top

Re: Fill: Gladio/Noct, Noct is a pushy, dominant top

Fill: Ardyn/Any, Non-Consensual Bathing (Ardyn/Prompto, 1/?)

Re: Fill: Ardyn/Any, Non-Consensual Bathing (Ardyn/Prompto, 1/?)

Harem Pants Bodyguard Pet Gladio