ff_exchange | 2013 KISS BATTLE!

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2013 KISS BATTLE!

Final Fantasy Kissing Battle 2013

RULES

This year, we're creating Master Links for each fandom. When leaving prompts, please put it under the right canon! If in a compilation canon, please leave the important details!

To leave a prompt: leave one prompt per comment, with FANDOM: CHARACTERS/RELATIONSHIP in the subject line and your prompt in the body.

To leave a fill: reply to the comment in question. Please use the subject line of your comment to label your work: TITLE (if relevant), FANDOM, CHARACTERS/RELATIONSHIP, RATING (ANY KINKS, WARNINGS, FLAGS).

There should be kissing! All kinds of kisses are welcome: gen, shippy, smutty, chaste, familial, friendly, angry, happy! We’re pretty open to anything you want to call kissing. We are fans of all of it.

Fanart, fanfiction, drabbles, doodles, live action movies -- whatever you want to supply, we’d like to have it.

Be kind to others regarding character or ship choices and prompts. This should be fun for everyone!

Prompt early, prompt often, and leave as many as you want.

Prompts can be filled multiple times!

To leave a blitzkrieg kiss: If you have something but no one has prompted it yet, blitzkiss away! Just reply to the comment for your fandom, and make sure you use the subject line to label your work.

Be sure to check back often -- new kissing action could be showing up everywhere!

Spread the word! Tell your friends!

FINAL FANTASY KISS BATTLE 2013

We will be running the Kissing Battle on Dreamwidth only. There are two main reasons for this: 1) Dreamwidth’s comment limit is huge, allowing for longer kissing masterpieces; and 2) Dreamwidth still supports subject lines for comments, which are vital to a meme like the Kiss Battle. However, the Battle is open to everyone. Feel free to participate with your Dreamwidth (account creation is invite-free right now~!), your Livejournal or other OpenID account (see here if you want to set up an OpenID), or anonymously.

Have fun! Get smoochin'!

FINAL FANTASY I
FINAL FANTASY II
FINAL FANTASY III
FINAL FANTASY IV COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY V
FINAL FANTASY VI
FINAL FANTASY VII COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY VIII
FINAL FANTASY IX
FINAL FANTASY X AND X-2
FINAL FANTASY XI
FINAL FANTASY XII COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY TACTICS COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY XIII COMPILATION
DISSIDIA: FINAL FANTASY COMPILATION
FINAL FANTASY: CRYSTAL CHRONICLES COMPILATION
ASSORTED FINAL FANTASY
CROSSOVERS (WITHIN FF)
CROSSOVERS (FF/OTHER)
OTHER / ASSORTED

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Butz absently played with the belt on his kenpo gi. He'd just elected to train in the monk class, but he really wasn't getting the hang of it. The crystal shard hadn't come with an instruction manual, after all. And unlike wielding a sword, it wasn't exactly obvious which part of his body would be considered the pointiest end in battle.

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry to startle you," came a soft voice. Butz turned around to find a lovely young woman standing behind him. "I'm starting up a business, and I just wanted to give you a free sample of my product."

Butz thought it all a bit strange, yet endearing, so he returned her smile and accepted her offer graciously. It was a slice of cake.

"It's a secret recipe of my own design. Enjoy!"

He thought he saw a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she skipped away, but he didn't think anything of it as he took a bite. But then...

His vision began to twist and swirl and turn a revolting shade of pink. Then suddenly he wasn't in Walse anymore.

* * *

Butz felt as though he were floating in space, yet paralyzed at the same time. It took a while for his eyes to focus, but he thought he could make out a vague, ghostlike shape before him.

"Prince Poo... I am the spirit of your ancient lineage. To complete your trial, I am going to break your legs. You will lose the use of them. Do you accept this?"

What the fuck?! thought Butz, but he couldn't find his own tongue by which to voice his protest. Nevertheless, a pain suddenly shot through the place where his legs should have been.

"So, Prince Poo... You cannot walk, as your legs are broken. Next, I will tear your arms off... I will feed them to the crows. Do you accept this?"

HELL NO, he thought furiously, but the searing pain then moved to his nonexistent arms.

"Ah, Prince Poo... Without legs and arms, you can only lie there... Now, I will take something far more dear to you..."

Please do not continue, Butz mentally whimpered. But then the spectral figure began to shift its shape, and as it floated closer and closer, he realized that it was... himself.

"Prince Poo," said spirit-Butz, reaching out towards him. "This is the last part of your trial. You must give yourself to me completely. Do you accept this?"

I'm not gonna lie; I have no idea what's going on, or why you keep calling me 'Prince Poo', or why you're actually me, thought Butz, but he did find his imaginary body relaxing. He felt Spirit-Butz' hands caress his cheeks, which was strangely exhiliarating. But then, most surprising of all, was that he saw his own face glide closer and closer, until their lips touched (or so he thought he felt), and it was... nice.

Butz couldn't figure out a way to respond, not having a proper body and all, but he had to admit that his other self seemed to be doing pretty well on his own. His lips were soft and his tongue dextrous, and Butz suspected he could make out the sensation of fingers running through his hair.

Damn, I'm smooth, he thought, and sat back for the ride.

And then his spirit whispered into his neck, "I'm going to cut your ears off."

I'm no longer okay with this, thought Butz plainly.

"Do you care if I take your eyes? Do you want to live in eternal darkness?" his spirit continued, all the while nipping at what would've been his earlobes. Butz couldn't help but groan internally.

"Are you sad? Are you lonely?" His spirit sucked at his collarbone and Butz felt a stirring down south. "If you lose your mind, you also lose any feelings of sadness... Do you accept this?"

Butz wasn't sure how to respond at this point. There were so many strange sensations going on at once and he felt like he wasn't in control of any of them, despite the fact that it was him controlling the situation... thinking about it all was starting to give him a headache.

Another curious feeling jostled him back to pseudo-consciousness. He felt a squeezing around... around... well, it was a bit too tight at first, but then it eased up and started to feel rather nice. Overwhelmingly nice. It moved up and down, enveloping him, exciting him, sending him closer and closer to the edge...!

"Oh yes, Poo! You are in my Butz! UHYEA!"

Butz felt himself explode in ecstasy despite himself. And then everything went chillingly still.

* * *

Butz awoke on the beach with a terrible sunburn on half of his face. He felt slightly drunk, and his bottom was questionably sore.

"Hey lady," he called, hoping the cake seller was still around.

She appeared from behind a vendor cart with an eager smile.

"I'll take one to go, please!"

WHAT JUST HAPPENED

DIDN'T YOU READ THE SUBJECT LINE - FUCK IF I EVEN KNOW

PLEASE DOU CONTINUE

NOPE

Too close for comfort

Kisses after a long day

"Bet you would look good with a hat."

Mindy is the easiest to please. Young as she is in form, she still enjoys games, and so Barbariccia is able to distract her with simple tricks, make her laugh with things as simple as leaves dancing in the wind. For all of her power and her years she is still a child in many ways, and children can be so absurdly simple.

Cindy, forever caught in the awkward stage where she is only just an adult, takes a bit more time, and a lot more patience. She is often glum and angry at first, but in the end she opens up as her mistress offers her the tidbits of kindness - a gentle word, a stroke with the back of her taloned hands. She rarely laughs, not like her younger sister; a smile is as much as she can muster, but it is enough.

Sandy, however, is the one that Barbariccia takes the most pleasure in meeting, because Sandy is a match for her, a woman grown and full of desire. She is one of the few she has met who can match her, power for power, and she always greets her mistress with a kiss - its gentleness or fierceness depending on her mood, and how badly she needs her mistress's distraction.

It's simple enough, keeping them happy and willing to stay in the cold and sterile tower, instead of flitting from flower to flower with the rest of their sylph sisters. One could almost forget that they were her prisoners, in the end.

He could taste blood on her lips but he couldn't deny that it made her taste all the sweeter.

Gotta run; your sister is going to kill me.

How to Pick Up Chicks

War Stories

Oh, Goddess, brave little baby Rydia. SHE CAN DO IT! I KNOW SHE CAN! \o/

Ow.

I just... it...

Ow. ;~;

Broken teeth and bloody water.

Edited 2013-02-10 10:39 (UTC)

On your knees.

This needs to be a thing that happens.

Always his lady.

I can't tell if I'm serious about this prompt or not so feel free to go wherever with it.

He comes to with the fuzzy, warm feeling of White Magic skimming across his skin. It's not the first he's woken like that - it used to happen more, when he was younger, when he and Cecil were training. His mind is very hazy, addled by the magic and the force of the drop - which he can't remember, not really, only in pieces; pieces that include the sky, the summit, the clouds, and the harsh fall to the ground, wind whipping at his ears.

He must try to move, even though he can't focus on his surroundings, because there is a hand on his arm and a soothing voice near his ear saying, "Don't try to get up. You're still weak."

"Rosa," he mumbles, half-aware, and he knows this feeling of her, the familiar cocoon of safety, the light smell of incense in the air from the lingering after-effects of the healing spell.

The fingers on his arm tighten a bit, and then release. "Just rest."

He complies, because there is nothing else to do.

--

The second time, he wakes from nightmares. He can't remember what they were once he has opened his eyes, only that they caused him to scream - perhaps they are of the summit and the shrine. That is the part of his memory that is the most closed off to him. He struggles against the strange bonds holding him down, and then the presence is back, bringing with it a wave of serenity and the jingle of thin metal chains.

"It was only a nightmare," she says, and her palm is warm against the side of his face, cupping his jaw. "Shh. You're fine now."

"It felt so real," he mumbles.

Fingers smooth errant hairs away from his forehead. "I know. But you're safe now."

He sighs, and wants to reach for her. He opens his eyes, but they are sore and weak from disuse, and the light is too bright - he can make out only her outline, the soft curls of her hair, and the roundness of her shoulders.

"Always safe with you," he says.

"Always," she promises; he only vaguely notes the way her voice hitches.

--

He sees Rosa in his dreams. It is a common occurence, despite his own internal battles against it, only now, the dreams have shifted. He knows it's her, because he can follow the scent of flowers in her hair, but he can't make out her shape - her features are blurred. Her mouth is a swipe of dark pink and her eyes amber and round, but he cannot make out the edges to any of it.

"Don't fight it," she tells him, and she is a step ahead of him, always out of reach. His fingers tingle, as if they are alight with magic. "You're going to make it worse if you keeping fighting it like this."

"Stop," he tries. He nearly falls, faltering on his steps. His legs have become like stone. "Wait, stop."

She leans in and there is warmth against his mouth. "Let me do this, Kain. Let me bring you back."

"Rosa," he murmurs against her lips.

"I never meant for things to go like this," she tells him, and sounds infinitely sad.

Just before she disappears, Kain blinks, and wonders when her eyes stopped being blue.

--

It is later, much later, that he finally wakes up with a clear head. His memories are restored - the bits fall into place, even the ones he wishes he didn't have. There is a lot of time to piece back together and it takes him several moments to reorient himself, lying on a cot with several cream-colored blankets laid neatly over his form.

He expected it to be worse, as the outline solidified, but it hardly feels strange at all. Coherent, he can notice the differences; she smells of jasmine, not lavendar, more spice than sweet. There's a tang to her magic that promises a bite. Her fingers sweep over his brow with a sense of purpose and urgency, and yet gentle enough to lull him back into a haze of calm.

"Welcome back," she tells him.

"Porom," he says; it even falls easily from his tongue. His mouth is dry from his days being tended, and he swallows hard, wetting his lip. "Thank you."

Her smile is genuine and stretches up to her eyes. "I told you that I would bring you back."

"I never doubted you," Kain says, and it's true.

She kisses his temples, his forehead, his nose - when she kisses his mouth, her palms are holding the sides of his face, almost reverently. He wonders now how he could have ever confused the two.

"Next time," she whispers against his mouth, as she pulls away but keeps her fingers pressed against his skin, "duck when I tell you to."

Eeeee, I love their personalities here, and that they're slyphs, and the twist in the last line is excellent. ♥

[Shamelessly recycling the characters from "Carpe Magum" for mage porn. HOPE YOU DON'T MIND]

Xue's scrubbing dead monster bits off his hammer when Imri ducks inside the tent and says, "May I request your services?"

Face warming, Xue clears this throat. "Maybe this should wait until after supper."

"That was an actual request for medical treatment."

"Oh. Right."

Imri chuckles, then winces and sets his hand low on his hip. "One of those wyverns kicked me harder than I realized. I'm pretty much tapped for the day, so..."

He's still healing slowly; burns are tricky even with magic. As he unlaces his trousers, Xue sets his hammer aside. It's been an uneventful hike back to Lefein, nothing that should have taxed Imri's magical abilities unless he's in worse shape than he's letting on.

Imri pulls his trousers down far enough to reveal a bruise the size of an ogre's fist at the junction of his hip and thigh; he's lucky not to be dealing with a broken pelvis or a more serious case of internal bleeding. Xue gathers a healing spell in his hand, then, after a moment's second-guessing, sucks the magic into his mouth. Imri hisses long and low as Xue's lips press against the middle of the bruise.

The discoloration fades from the center out, leaving an uneven ring of purple. Xue cleans it up with languid passes of his tongue. Between his increasingly ragged breaths, Imri laughs and says, "Tease."

Xue makes one last, thorough circle with his tongue before replying, "Why do you think I'm teasing?"

"Because supper's going to be ready any—nnng."

He's already hard when Xue eases his cock free of his trousers. Xue licks the underside from base to tip, leaving a shining white trail of magic, before wrapping his lips around the head. They've had precious little time to learn each other's body, but Xue has always been a quick study, and Imri has never been shy about his preferences.

"Never mind supper," Imri decides, panting.

Xue presses forward, taking more in, breathing in the concentrated blend of sweat and leather. His tongue tingles with the fading magic; he can only imagine how it feels on more sensitive flesh. As he settles into a rhythm, Imri's fingers twine through his hair.

"I should have said something so much earlier," Imri babbles. "Should have just pounced on you after the sea shrine. Should have—"

Xue caresses the inside of his thigh with another healing spell, and none of the subsequent syllables quite form words. Imri's gorgeous like this, muscles trembling under his skin, nonsense riding out on his uneven breaths. Xue stiffens his tongue, hollows his cheeks, and draws him slowly over the edge.

As Imri comes down, knees near buckling, Xue wipes his mouth and asks, "Feel better?"

"Thoroughly." Imri kneels to cup his face and press a quick, fierce kiss to his lips. "Have I told you lately how the next time we sleep on a mattress, I want you to pound me into it?"

His hand is working its way under Xue's robe, warm with enough magic to call his earlier claim into question. Xue leans into the touch. "You might have mentioned."

"Supper's ready," Luna announces, her voice alarmingly close. Xue turns to find her peering into the tent as she adds, "Caz cooked, so remember to pretend you like it."

Imri only nods, withdrawing his hand, while Xue quietly wishes for the earth to crack open and swallow them all. At the very least, the tent pole could fall over and knock a little amnesia into their heads. "How long have you been watching?" he forces himself to ask.

"Since supper was ready," she replies blithely, and lets the tent flap fall.

They've never spoken much, nor had anything like a conversation since that night on the way to Thamasa. But as Terra paces the moonlit deck of the airship, trying to wear down her nerves, one of the shadows calls her name.

He's different now, since the world ended; she couldn't put words to the change, but she'd be genuinely surprised now if he stole away in the night. She's different, too, in ways she'd be just as hard-pressed to describe. Emotion is a sea she's still learning to swim, and she's far from learning the names of her strokes.

When she approaches, he asks, "What do you regret?"

She's quiet for a while, thinking. The wind is cold when she isn't moving; she shifts into her esper skin and is glad when he doesn't recoil. He doesn't prompt, doesn't fidget, doesn't do anything at all but watch her.

"I'm not sure I understand regret," she says at length. "If your choices make you who you are, then if you erased your choices, you'd lose yourself. You'd be like..." She falters but presses on. "You'd be like I was."

"You don't understand regret," he agrees, bluntly but without rancor. "There are worse ways to be than how you were."

Of all the ways she has been—growing up under lock and key in a laboratory, enslaved and made a weapon, torn apart by her own fear—none was worse than being empty. "I can't think of any," she replies. "What do you regret?"

Now he is quiet, for so long that she wonders if she violated some social rule that she still doesn't understand. In the darkness, all she can see of him is the gleam of the moon on his eyes.

Eventually the gleam shifts as if he's inclining his head. "I asked first."

"And I answered." She focuses on her claws to gather her thoughts. "Should I regret being raised as a weapon? Should I regret my own heritage, if it means I might disappear?"

"You can't regret something done to you. Tell me something that you've chosen."

Her hand moves automatically to her throat, where her claws clink against the chain of her pendant. She thinks aloud through her reaction: "I opened the gate. I didn't know that the espers would burn Vector, or that the Empire would slaughter the espers, or that Kefka would destroy the world. But those weren't my choices."

"But opening the gate was."

"Yes. If I hadn't, maybe the world wouldn't have been torn apart. Or maybe it would have been worse, with no hope left at all." She holds the pendant in her palm, feels the echo of her father's pulse. She raises her chin. "I could wonder forever, but it doesn't matter. All I know for certain is that I'm nothing without my choices."

In the silence, the wind grows loud. The world below is silvered and broken.

She moves closer to him to share this shelter and asks, "What do you regret?"

The light on his eyes disappears. "A year ago, everything. Now, almost everything."

Asking would be prying, but he pried first. "Relm?"

He stiffens with a sharp intake of breath. This is as good as anyone else's full-body startle.

When he makes no other reply, she adds, "I watch everyone. She's precious to you."

"Don't tell her." There's something fragile underneath the gruffness of his tone, something old and tired. His eyes shine dimly.

"I won't. Will you?"

For a moment she's worried that she pushed too far, that he's going to retreat into the dark without another word. Instead he replies, "All I'm good for is killing. All I can do for her is kill the source of the world's ruin."

"And you won't regret that."

"No," he agrees, voice almost soft. "Twice in my life, I won't have made the world worse."

Terra hesitates at the edge of her comfort zone, but what is the point of hesitation if she might fade to nothing tomorrow? Letting go of gravity, she drifts a few inches above the deck and presses her lips to what little of his cheek is exposed.

"Three times," she says, half-challenging.

BUTZ'S THOUGHTS ARE THE BEST THINGS

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 14 of 26

2013 KISS BATTLE!

Tasty Cake (Butz/Poo, kinda dubcon selfcest, fuck if I even know. Rated R, y'all!!)

Re: Tasty Cake (Butz/Poo, kinda dubcon selfcest, fuck if I even know. Rated R, y'all!!)

Re: Tasty Cake (Butz/Poo, kinda dubcon selfcest, fuck if I even know. Rated R, y'all!!)

Re: Tasty Cake (Butz/Poo, kinda dubcon selfcest, fuck if I even know. Rated R, y'all!!)

Re: Tasty Cake (Butz/Poo, kinda dubcon selfcest, fuck if I even know. Rated R, y'all!!)

FFVII: DoC - Yuffie/Shalua

FFXII: Balthier/Fran/Penelo

FFXII: RW - Fran/Elsa

A Soft Touch (FFIV, Barbariccia/Magus Sisters)

FFVII: DoC, Vincent/Yuffie

FFV: Reina/Butz

FFV: Gilgamesh/Butz

FFV: Faris+Galuf

Re: FFIV OGC: "Healing," Mini!Rydia + Rosa, G

Re: Nights (Locke/Terra, PG)

FFV: Cagnazzo/Scarmiglione

FFIV: Kain/Golbez

FFIV: TAY + Chrono Trigger: Lucca/Luca

FFVI: Setzer/Blackjack

FFIV: Edward/Tellah

"Dopplegang", TAY: Kain/Porom, PG-13

Re: A Soft Touch (FFIV, Barbariccia/Magus Sisters)

Better: FFI: White Mage/Red Mage, Explicit

On Regret: FFVI: Terra/Shadow, PG

Re: Tasty Cake (Butz/Poo, kinda dubcon selfcest, fuck if I even know. Rated R, y'all!!)