FFXII Fic: Shards and Sharpnel
I live yet. It might only be by the will of Azithromycin, but I continue on regardless. And I'm officially declaring the sex meme drabble challenge closed, over and done with. Sorry, artemischan, but my brain simply couldn't function enough to write that last one.
This is the first of quite a few posts to come from that challenge that I staged for my f-list. And since the drabbles here involve non-con or dub-con sex, you might want to read this post on the possibility of non-con in the fandom if you’re interested in the topic. Happier, fluffier drabbles will be released later, I swear.
Also, these drabbles-- especially the one involving Vossler/Reks and dubiously consensual sex-- have been revised. Do let me know what you think of it now…? ♥
Title: Shards and Sharpnel
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Characters/Pairings: Vossler/Reks, Ashe/Vayne, Noah/Basch/Larsa. Yep, you read those right.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Three sharp shards of fic from a recent fic-bit challenge. As though there weren't darkness enough in Ivalice...
Note: There be considerable darkness and depravity in these drabbles here. Warnings for kink, non-consensual or dubiously consensual activity, voyeurism and twin-cest. And if anyone asks, my f-list made me do it... mostly.
I. Vossler, topping from the bottom, for Sheffiesharpe
"Move," the man beneath him whispers, the words growing ever hoarser and more wrenching into the air, and with something not unlike remorse, Reks does just as told. The man beneath Reks was not his captain or his commander but there was power in him, coupled with a sort of aching desperation, and Reks does not want this but Reks does not want to break the man beneath him either and so he does as begged, cajoled, commanded.
"Move," the man groans. "Move even faster." And though it should be Reks who has the power-- Reks who is the penetrator, Reks who would be seen as the perpetrator-- it is also Reks who moves like a broken puppet underneath those hissing words, Reks who knows he will come to regret this.
"Move," Vossler hisses one last time, one hand sliding through Rek's hair and another gripping his own erection as solidly as his self gripped Rek's cock underneath his hastily untied belt. And though he is still young as of yet, Reks already knows enough to do just as asked.
---
Ashe: Aristocracy, for Rushikayu13
As her new husband tilted his hand against her body, Ashe strove as hard as she could to keep to keep the expression on her face cold, severe and neutral. But even that resolve, steely though it was, was tested when her groom gripped her throat with one hand and brought her forward again.
"You didn't," he murmured after she refused to open her lips, "actually think I would be as your first husband was, did you? I shan't spare you on our wedding night or woo you with solemn promises and vows. You are not peasantry to be fooled. And you and I both know that there is only one thing to be desired from this union of ours, only one thing I have need of from both Dalmasca and you."
Something in her wanted to twist, shake, even shatter at his words but she forced herself to straighten nonetheless, to not give even an inch more of ground no matter what he did to her. "I know and I don't care at all. Do whatever you want with me-- you won’t break either my country or my will."
"So you say," he whispered, and the bastard-- goddamn him, goddamn him-- sounded amused. "But now what shall you do?"
"Only what I have to," she hissed back, not even shaking when he tightened his grip on her throat. But even as she defied him as best as she could, Ashe knew all too well that the men of House Solidor were apt to leave no remainders of the past behind wherever they conquered wills.
---
Both Gabranths and Larsa, for Midnightdiddle
[Note: This takes place in a total AU-verse. And just assume Larsa has hit about 20 by this point.]
...And he shouldn't be doing this, Larsa knows, he shouldn't, he oughtn't, he mustn’t do this. But they are always too tempting, in the here and now, too tempting, and he cannot simply avert his eyes and fight down the flush on his cheeks and stop thinking of the two of them entwined upon each other as though they could not e parted. He is no longer the innocent boy he once was-- Archadia has seen him become a man ahead of his time for years and years and years on end-- and though his vassals know it not, he knows full well what they spend so many of their nights doing to themselves.
And he knows full well, in ways that would make them both stammer and stumble, unable to understand how and what he could have learned. He knows full well how they occupy themselves when not towing to his every whim, how they keep each other whole in a way they have yet to extend to himself. He knows and he is guilty of the knowledge in a way he safeguards from the rest of the world, in a way that is illicit and wrong and breaks every protection he knows a proper emperor would extend to those of his own orders.
He knows he must stop but he cannot stop, any more than he can pry apart just what this knowledge does to him.
He knows what they do to each other, having spied on them so often, having ordered knots and holes and secret windows in the dozens of their hide-aways from his authority and power. He has witnessed them entwined upon each other over a hundred times, seen with wide eyes their golden limbs flushing against their equivalent selves and their heated, identical faces, watched them moan and gasp and slash against one another until they come with similar and similarly damned words that never will never include him.
And when he thinks of it, when he thinks of them... all the lord of half the world can do is grasp his own pleasure with a sweaty groan and wish he were in their midst yet again.
This is the first of quite a few posts to come from that challenge that I staged for my f-list. And since the drabbles here involve non-con or dub-con sex, you might want to read this post on the possibility of non-con in the fandom if you’re interested in the topic. Happier, fluffier drabbles will be released later, I swear.
Also, these drabbles-- especially the one involving Vossler/Reks and dubiously consensual sex-- have been revised. Do let me know what you think of it now…? ♥
Title: Shards and Sharpnel
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Characters/Pairings: Vossler/Reks, Ashe/Vayne, Noah/Basch/Larsa. Yep, you read those right.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Three sharp shards of fic from a recent fic-bit challenge. As though there weren't darkness enough in Ivalice...
Note: There be considerable darkness and depravity in these drabbles here. Warnings for kink, non-consensual or dubiously consensual activity, voyeurism and twin-cest. And if anyone asks, my f-list made me do it... mostly.
I. Vossler, topping from the bottom, for Sheffiesharpe
"Move," the man beneath him whispers, the words growing ever hoarser and more wrenching into the air, and with something not unlike remorse, Reks does just as told. The man beneath Reks was not his captain or his commander but there was power in him, coupled with a sort of aching desperation, and Reks does not want this but Reks does not want to break the man beneath him either and so he does as begged, cajoled, commanded.
"Move," the man groans. "Move even faster." And though it should be Reks who has the power-- Reks who is the penetrator, Reks who would be seen as the perpetrator-- it is also Reks who moves like a broken puppet underneath those hissing words, Reks who knows he will come to regret this.
"Move," Vossler hisses one last time, one hand sliding through Rek's hair and another gripping his own erection as solidly as his self gripped Rek's cock underneath his hastily untied belt. And though he is still young as of yet, Reks already knows enough to do just as asked.
---
Ashe: Aristocracy, for Rushikayu13
As her new husband tilted his hand against her body, Ashe strove as hard as she could to keep to keep the expression on her face cold, severe and neutral. But even that resolve, steely though it was, was tested when her groom gripped her throat with one hand and brought her forward again.
"You didn't," he murmured after she refused to open her lips, "actually think I would be as your first husband was, did you? I shan't spare you on our wedding night or woo you with solemn promises and vows. You are not peasantry to be fooled. And you and I both know that there is only one thing to be desired from this union of ours, only one thing I have need of from both Dalmasca and you."
Something in her wanted to twist, shake, even shatter at his words but she forced herself to straighten nonetheless, to not give even an inch more of ground no matter what he did to her. "I know and I don't care at all. Do whatever you want with me-- you won’t break either my country or my will."
"So you say," he whispered, and the bastard-- goddamn him, goddamn him-- sounded amused. "But now what shall you do?"
"Only what I have to," she hissed back, not even shaking when he tightened his grip on her throat. But even as she defied him as best as she could, Ashe knew all too well that the men of House Solidor were apt to leave no remainders of the past behind wherever they conquered wills.
---
Both Gabranths and Larsa, for Midnightdiddle
[Note: This takes place in a total AU-verse. And just assume Larsa has hit about 20 by this point.]
...And he shouldn't be doing this, Larsa knows, he shouldn't, he oughtn't, he mustn’t do this. But they are always too tempting, in the here and now, too tempting, and he cannot simply avert his eyes and fight down the flush on his cheeks and stop thinking of the two of them entwined upon each other as though they could not e parted. He is no longer the innocent boy he once was-- Archadia has seen him become a man ahead of his time for years and years and years on end-- and though his vassals know it not, he knows full well what they spend so many of their nights doing to themselves.
And he knows full well, in ways that would make them both stammer and stumble, unable to understand how and what he could have learned. He knows full well how they occupy themselves when not towing to his every whim, how they keep each other whole in a way they have yet to extend to himself. He knows and he is guilty of the knowledge in a way he safeguards from the rest of the world, in a way that is illicit and wrong and breaks every protection he knows a proper emperor would extend to those of his own orders.
He knows he must stop but he cannot stop, any more than he can pry apart just what this knowledge does to him.
He knows what they do to each other, having spied on them so often, having ordered knots and holes and secret windows in the dozens of their hide-aways from his authority and power. He has witnessed them entwined upon each other over a hundred times, seen with wide eyes their golden limbs flushing against their equivalent selves and their heated, identical faces, watched them moan and gasp and slash against one another until they come with similar and similarly damned words that never will never include him.
And when he thinks of it, when he thinks of them... all the lord of half the world can do is grasp his own pleasure with a sweaty groan and wish he were in their midst yet again.