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PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

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prompt post one

+ All comments except fills should be posted anonymously.
+ All prompts should focus on TFA characters. You can't post OT or PT-only prompts.
+ One prompt per comment please.
+ You can request both kink and non-kink content
+ Crossovers, characters from the other media are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 movie in some way.
+ All prompt comments should begin with a pairing tag (eg Rey/Finn) or Gen for no pairing.
+ Use 'Any' when prompting for any pairing at all (eg Kylo/Any or Any/Any)
+ Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Poe/Other)
+ Warn for common triggers, please
+ NO PROMPTS FEATURING CHARACTERS UNDER 18 IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS.
+ don't hijack other people's prompts.
+ prompts should not exceed ~250 words.
+ also, while this is not really a rule I can enforce, please try to limit yourselves to fewer than 5 prompts per page.
+ reposting prompts is currently not allowed.
+ no prompts based on real life tragic events. e.g: 9/11 au, concentration camp au, etc
+ PLAY NICE

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I am absolutely in love with your Kylo voice. It's so perfect. He's alert and detached and completely ... he's not "denying" some hidden affection for Leia and Han, they are nothing to him. Han is a person who needs to die already, and Leia has something wrong with her force presence. And his whole POV is beautiful. I had no idea how much I needed someone to write him with his Snoke-influenced convictions completely intact until I read this. But thank you so much for going full-on darksider with your characterization of him. (In this chapter. I'm definitely not telling you where you should take him if you write more. This was just ... super-special for me as-is.)

Oh my goodness, this was amazing! I'm still not recovered from the finger sucking at the end. Also this line, "Leia isn’t her General, and yet Phasma’s never been able to resist a direct order from the woman" was so good, right in the authority kink

A bit late to posting this as I finished it last week but never had time to post? Sooo... here, have this. It might not be what you were looking for exactly, but it's around about there?

I hope you enjoy!

AO3:
http://archiveofourown.org/works/6071386

That should have read FILL. Sorry about that.

Hope you enjoy it
http://archiveofourown.org/works/6071746

I'm back! :D?

Finn wakes up and Poe starts having second thoughts.

(Yes, the tense change is intentional.)

***

Finn sleeps like the dead—and Mama had spun stories like this too, of enchanted princes and princesses cursed into the sleep of the dead by wicked witches—and in the interim, Rey goes off in search of Luke Skywalker.

Poe promises her he’ll check in on Finn as often as he can, when he’s not on missions or running sims with new recruits, and report back to her immediately should Finn wake.

And so Poe finds himself at Finn’s bedside, skimming though a datapad, reading to Finn some of Mama’s—and his—favorite Yavin fairytales. He recites to Finn the story of the floating city in the clouds. The one about the dragon who longs to be a real, human boy. The story of the princess who talks to the Force-trees.

He keeps the story of the prince in the tower to himself, though, for no real reason. He keeps that one in his holster, with the safety on.

“—and this princess, she’s a real brave one,” Poe says, as he absentmindedly flips a page on his datapad. He’s not reciting from the holobook he’s pulled up onto the screen, this one he’s reciting from memory. “She’s the daughter of a lost empire. The heir to an empty throne. She knows loss and war, has been forged in fire. When the dragon tightens his chains around her, all she thinks of is freedom. Vengeance.”

Maybe not the kind of romantic tale Mama would have told, Poe thinks, as he observes Finn’s inert form, but he likes this one. It’s a true story, anyway, and those make for the best stories.

“The princess bides her time, plans her escape with a brave knight and a handsome soldier. One day, feeling bold, she takes the chains that imprison her and dances for the dragon and his hordes. The dragon, drunk on food and wine, is enchanted. And here, she sees an opening for her escape. She takes the chains and—”

Poe doesn’t get a chance to finish his tale. Finn’s motionless form begins to stir on the cot, eyelids twitching and then fingers moving at his thighs. Poe stills at his side, clutching the datapad in his suddenly clammy hands, breath caught in his throat. He’s afraid to breathe, as if the fragile threads holding—tethering—Finn to the world of the living will snap it he does.

(That’s in Poe’s stories too. Maybe he should start reading others.)

Finn opens one eye and then the next, then blinks up at the ceiling. He smacks parched lips and makes a dry, throaty, utterly miserable sound that has a medidroid at his side in a heartbeat, a glass of water in its hand.

Doctor Kalonia rushes in, along with nurse-droids and attendants, who maneuver Poe out of the way. They lay hands and pincers and claw-like apparatus on Finn and gently guide him into a sitting position. One droid quickly slides a pile of soft pillows under Finn’s back, and Finn groans appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut.

“Ah, ah, eyes open,” Kalonia says, holding up a metallic pen. She presses the side of it and a light blinks on. After examining Finn’s bloodshot, bleary eyes, Kalonia listens to his heartbeat and, deciding everything all checks out, orders the droids and assistants out.

Poe gets up too, tucks his data pad under his arm, nudges his stool under the foot of the bed and prepares to follow them out, but the doctor lays a hand on his arm and he turns toward her.

“Doctor?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows at her in question.

“Stay with him. I need to inform the General that he’s awake,” she orders, and hustles out, leaving Poe standing awkwardly next to the side of Finn’s bed.

Poe feels useless now, with Finn awake. Now that he’s awake, Finn doesn’t need Poe reading fairytales or holding his hand.

He probably doesn’t need Poe’s devotion either.

Poe thinks about Cousin Dameron and wonders—

“Poe,” Finn rasps, his voice rusty with disuse. He digs his fingers into the blanket laid across his lap. “Wh-where’s Rey? Why isn’t she here?”

Poe inches closer and sets his datapad down on the stool to rub his hands over his face. “Rey’s on a mission to retrieve Luke Skywalker. The last of the Jedi. She’ll be back, though. She promised.”

Finn nods slowly, processing that, then sweeps his eyes down the length of Poe’s body and back up again. “You look like you went for a tumble in the barracks with a Bantha,” he comments, tone quirking up at the end.

Poe manages a smile at that. “It’s been a rough few weeks, bud—”

“I’ve been out for weeks?” Finn exclaims, eyes widening. Immediately, he kicks off the blanket and attempts to stand, but his legs buckle and Poe manages to catch him by his arm.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there. You’ve been off your feet for nearly three weeks, in a medically induced coma. You need to build your strength back up,” Poe says, guiding him to sit on the end of the bed.

Finn sighs and laughs, though a touch humorlessly. “You mean to tell me I’ve been sleeping for nearly a standard month? Holy Force, if this’d happened back on the Finalizer, they would’ve just chucked me out of the airlock and that’d’ve been that.”

Poe drags the stool back out from under the bed and sits across from Finn. Their knees bump and Poe attempts to maneuver the stool so that he’s not practically sitting in the poor guy’s lap. He’s had a whole lot dumped on him in the few minutes he’s been awake.

Poe can’t bring himself to mention the debt he owes Finn now. Not yet. He’d probably think it was strange or, worse yet, creepy, disgusting. If Finn rejected him, rejected his offering—well. Poe’s not about to risk that. The potential of friendship with Finn is more than he could have hoped for anyway. His own hangups about this particular Yavin IV tradition are his and his alone, and he needn’t force them on Finn.

“You look…” Finn trails off, motioning in the general vicinity of Poe’s face. “Like you’ve got something you wanna tell me.”

“I, uh,” Poe says rather articulately.

“Right.” Finn regards him with a skeptical head tilt and crosses his arms over his chest.

“It’s nothing, buddy. Pal.” Poe claps Finn on his knee. “You hungry? How about I ring for one of the helper droids to bring you something to eat?”

Finn looks down at Poe’s hand on his knee and Poe slips it off without trying to look like he just got caught with his hand somewhere it shouldn’t be. Which it was, but still. These are Poe’s problems, not Finn’s.

I can do this, Poe tells himself, in a feeble attempt to strengthen his resolve.

He can do what his cousin couldn’t. Traditions are only traditions if you honor and uphold them.

Poe can survive this.

***

TBC

This is going to be structured like a 5+1 fic, with each section headed by advice from a fictional pilot dating magazine. So, lol. Enjoy.

--

5 Surefire Ways to Win the Pilot of Your Dreams!!

1. Get to know his squadron. Win the squad over and you’ll have the pilot of your dreams eating out of your hand in no time!

“Hey, Jessika! Do you need any help with that?”

Jessika Pava pauses on the ladder she’s propped up against the battered side of Blue Three, a toolbox balanced precariously over one of her shoulders.

Finn grins up at her and waves. “Hey. Hi. Hello.”

“Hey, hi, hello yourself,” Jessika says, hefting the box into Blue Three’s open cockpit. She starts down the ladder and then leaps off the end, landing on her feet in front of Finn with a solid thump.

Finn lifts his eyebrows. “I guess not, then,” he comments, sounding impressed.

Jessika grins at him and flips her long black braid behind one shoulder. “Nope. Got it covered, hot stuff,” she teases, grin widening when Finn ducks his head bashfully and his cheeks dimple.

“Um, I could use your help though,” he says, kicking his heel against the ground.

“Oh?” Jessika tries not to sound too curious.

“Yeah, I—”

“Hey, Pava. Oh, hi, Finn.”

Both of them look over. Poe Dameron approaches them, bearing a broad, friendly smile. He’s got his flight-suit half off, arms tied around his waist. He’s wearing a tight, black tank-top that shows off his muscular shoulders and upper arms. When Jessika glances over at Finn, she’s intrigued by the way he licks his lips and then freezes, as if only just realizing what his tongue was doing.

Jessika nods and hums a little to herself. She reaches out, pats Finn on the shoulder.

“See you around, hero,” she says, batting her eyelashes at him and rubbing down his arm.

Finn looks after her as she moves around them, eyes widening, but it’s not his reaction she’s studying. It’s Poe’s.

Poe’s open, friendly face has shuttered like a Dandoranian house during hurricane season.

Jess leaves, her suspicions confirmed.

--

TBC

AAAAAAAAAHHH I'M SO EXCITED THAT YOU'RE CONTINUING WITH THIS FIC!!!!!

I can't wait to see where this goes. Post the next chapter NOW, please and thank you. Oh good my poor space babies.

Woohoo can't wait to see where this goes!

I'm so embarrassed about how much I love reading this. Bullet proof kink for sure but everything else too like helping to clean each other up. Ack I'm so glad you are still writing!

YESSS! This is already great and I love the format idea.

DRIVE YOUR MAN WILD WITH THIS ONE WEIRD TRICK: Be Finn

A!A

I know that feel, anon.

I'M JUST EXCITED SOMEONE IS STILL READING THANK YOU and yes, there is more to come. Soon.

Thanks for sticking with it! You are definitely not alone in the kink factor there, let me tell u

A!A

DRIVE YOUR MAN WILD WITH THIS ONE WEIRD TRICK: Be Finn
Heh, pretty much! :D

[A/N: Things most people in the Star Wars universe don’t know: Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader, Padmé was married to Anakin, and Kylo Ren is Anakin Skywalker’s grandson. So it’s easy to get your sex partners to roleplay your grandparents and their best friend with you if you don’t tell them who they’re playing… Have a second fill, nonny!]

Padmé

After five minutes, Phasma bursts into Hux’s quarters and cries out, in her best Corellian accent (which is atrocious), “Padmé?”

Kylo and Hux turn to stare at her in mock horror (Kylo in horror, Hux in mock) from Hux’s bed, hopelessly entangled. Kylo is on his back, draped in a black sheet, and Hux, on top of him, is already naked, because stars forbid he put any effort into this scene. Phasma huffs at the sight. Hux gets to his knees, pulling Kylo up roughly along with him.

“Anakin!” Kylo gasps. He clutches the black sheet to his chest, covering his—well, Padmé’s—modesty, and exposing his delectable back and broad shoulders in the process.

“Master?” She cries out in the same tone, staring at Hux.

“Anakin,” Hux says neutrally, which is actually an improvement over last time.

She joins them on the bed, kneeling. It groans under their combined weight, but it’ll hold. Unlike Kylo’s, which they broke once doing something else. Kylo practically hurls himself into her arms. She catches him, unable to resist squeezing him. “Padmé, how could you do this?” she asks.

Kylo looks up at her, eyes pleading. “I was weak. I was tempted. I’m sorry.”

Hux crowds closely to them, but she ignores him. This is between Anakin and Padmé. “Did you touch him? Did you make him come? Did you let him come inside you?”

“No, no, no,” Kylo says in his breathy Padmé voice.

Phasma kisses him gently. “Would you let him?”

“If you asked me to,” Kylo sighs.

This scene always starts like this: handsome knight Anakin finds his beautiful lover, Princess Padmé, in the arms of his nameless Master. In order for him to forgive her, she has to do what he says. It’s a much tamer fantasy than she expected to hear when Kylo had, not meeting their eyes at all, hesitantly outlined this scenario, complete with names and roles. But if what Kylo needs to behave himself and not destroy Imperial property is to pretend he’s a pretty princess and get fucked until he can’t stand, than Phasma can certainly lend a helping hand.

He could be into something much weirder.

Phasma gently guides Kylo, who takes direction as Padmé like a dream, into turning back to face Hux. She presses herself against his back, humming at the delicious feeling of all that warm flesh against her. She’s only wearing a thin sleeping tunic, the fabric practically nothing between them. Heat coils in her belly.

She slides her arms around him, hands stealing upwards to pass over his nipples and the broad strength of his chest. They’re of a height, but he has more torso where she has more leg, so she has to straighten up as to not dip too far below his shoulder.

“Can you kiss my master?” she asks, talking into Kylo’s ear but looking at Hux. Kylo nods. She watches from his shoulder as he leans forward, eyes closed, and kisses Hux almost chastely. Hux opens his mouth, and Kylo follows suit, tonguing him with gusto.

She runs her hands down Kylo’s stomach, admiring his abs, but takes care not to give into the temptation of grabbing his cock. He doesn’t like them to touch his cock while he’s being Padmé, for whatever reason. Hux thinks it’s because he’s trying to punish himself, but Phasma thinks it’s just because their pretty princess Padmé doesn’t have one. Pity, though, she quite likes it.

“Oh, Padmé,” she sighs, nuzzling at his neck. “You’re so beautiful.”

Kylo pulls away from Hux, turning his head back to tell her, “It’s only because I’m so in love with you.”

Only Kylo’s earnest delivery, breath hot against her mouth, saves the line. Padmé sounds, unsurprisingly, like she’s being played by someone who grew up in an isolated monastery spending more time training in the ways of the Dark Side than talking to women.

But it’s a fully fleshed out character, despite his heavy-handed and wooden acting, though not strictly accurate. Once, Phasma was so curious about Kylo’s Padmé (such a pretty but old-fashioned name to supposedly pluck out of thin air), that she looked up the name in the historical record. She found a few likely candidates, but the only royal she could find was a Galactic Republican Senator named Padmé Amidala, who was, by all accounts, five foot nothing, well-dressed, and ferocious.

Phasma wonders what she would make of Kylo’s performance.

She kisses him, eyes sliding closed, and feels Hux’s cold hand on her cheek. She leans over to kiss him too. There’s a definite difference between Kylo as himself and Kylo as Padmé, but Hux always feels like Hux—urgent and selfish. She rolls her hips against Kylo, who sighs and pulls her face to him.

Padmé is not terribly good at sharing Anakin with his master.

She pulls back. “Kiss him again,” she orders. “Touch him. Gently.”

Kylo nods pliantly, and returns his attention to Hux, running his hands down Hux’s slowly flushing chest. Phasma reaches out a hand and traces a line up his torso alongside Kylo’s fingers. Hux groans, smirking back at her.

She’s rapidly reaching the end of their little warmup—she’s starting to get slick underneath the tunic. She rolls her hips against Kylo, but that’s just pressure, not friction. She turns her attention to Kylo’s handsomely rounded shoulder, mouthing and kissing it.

She doesn’t see what Hux does, but suddenly, Kylo’s spine tenses like a hissing felinx and Hux pulls away, cursing.

“Not until he says!” Kylo snarls. He’s bitten him, Phasma realizes, gleefully. Hux presses a hand to his mouth, glaring imperiously, an effect rather ruined by his erection. She derives no small pleasure from seeing the general so denied. She smiles into Kylo’s shoulder.

Kylo is breathing furiously. She rolls her hips against him gently and reaches down to skate her fingers across his stomach, skimming his hip bones. Kylo’s breathing evens out and his spine relaxes; a coquettish tilt of the head tells her that he’s relaxed back into character.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” Phasma asks, managing her Corellian accent a little better but unable to keep the smile out of her voice. Hux’s furious eyes settle on her and she makes significant ones back at him.

“I’m sorry,” Hux says, tone resentful.

Kylo twists away from Hux to nestle into her. “What do you want?” she murmurs, petting his hair.

“I want him to watch you fuck me. I want him to know who I belong to,” Kylo spits.

Hux’s nostrils flare. Phasma smirks into a heated kiss, Kylo pressing, arching against her. Poor Hux, cheated out of anything but voyeurism by his own selfishness. Serves him right.

And then she has a better idea.

“Padmé,” she asks, “can you do something for me?”

“Anything, Anakin,” Kylo breathes.

“I want you to use your mouth on him. I want him to come in your mouth.” Kylo groans and nods. Hux’s glare intensifies. That should keep him in line, she thinks.

With any luck, Kylo will bite him again.

She withdraws from the bed, stripping off her tunic and throwing it on the floor. Kylo darts in to kiss Hux again, pressing against him, pushing him back onto the pillows. There’s a very dignified yelp when Kylo flips them over, more vehemently than strictly necessary. Phasma smiles.

She rarely gets out of this scene without strapping on the shaft, although it’s happened once or twice. The harness straps are warm—she remembered to put the whole kit over the heating tile earlier this evening—and dig pleasingly into her hips and ass. She adjusts the juncture of harness and shaft to better stimulate her clit directly, but it’s a largely futile exercise. She enjoys using it, but she doesn’t get off from it alone.

When she looks up, Kylo is on all fours between Hux’s legs, focused intently on the cock in his mouth. Her cunt clenches at the sight of Kylo’s hollowed cheeks and Hux’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. She seats herself, awkwardly, on the edge of the bed, to run a hand up Kylo’s long spine. She touches Kylo’s shoulder and runs her hand up into his scalp slowly. He relaxes at her touch, relaxes enough that, with a slight, gentle push, he takes Hux to the hilt. Hux gasps.

Hux’s hands are fisted in the sheets, presumably to keep from grabbing Kylo’s head. She wonders what would happen if he did. Kylo might bite his cock right off, she muses. Kylo moans around Hux’s cock, and the sound reverberates through his body and into her hands. It makes her cunt ache.

She moves, settling next to Hux on the bed, curling up to rest her chin on his pale shoulder and resting her left hand on his knee. He’s becoming nicely flushed from Kylo’s ministrations. Kylo looks up at them and locks eyes with her.

“You’re doing so well, Padmé,” she encourages. She kisses Hux, turning his head to do so. His hips stutter at the extra attention. “He’s so close. Can you feel it?”

Kylo nods around his cock; Hux cries out in her mouth.

She smiles. They’re strange bedfellows, true, but she’s learned how to play them against each other to her liking.

“Make him come for me,” she commands. She slides her hand on Hux’s knee up his inner thigh, brushing the back of her hand against Kylo’s cheek, and Hux gasps as he comes. She nuzzles at Hux’s neck as she watches Kylo swallow and pull off Hux’s softening cock. Her cunt throbs at the sight; she presses her thighs together for a little relief, face twitching.

She settles further back into the pillows, Hux, always useless after he comes, drowses against her shoulder. She reaches out to Kylo, and Kylo takes her hand delicately as Padmé. Kylo climbs over Hux to straddle her hips, knees pressed into the bed. She looks up at him, taking him all in—sweaty, disheveled, cock red and dripping, as if in response to how wet she is.

“Kiss me, Padmé,” she commands, voice breathy, and Kylo leans down to do so. He tastes of Hux; she moans into his mouth. He steadies his hands on her breasts, and she arches into the pleasurable pressure as he massages them a little.

“Oh, Anakin,” Kylo breathes. “I want you so badly…”

“I want to finger you,” she says. “I want to finger you open and make you ready for me.”

“Yes, yes,” Kylo rasps. He straightens up and leans over to the bedside console for the lubricant. He hands it to her, watching her closely. His gaze scorches her skin.

She squirts some of the lubricant onto her fingers and rubs her thumbs and her fingertips together. Kylo licks his lips and leans over her again to give her better access, bracing his right hand over her left shoulder and his left hand over Hux’s head. Hux is watching, she knows he is, but she can’t spare a thought for him when Kylo’s like this.

She presses a wet finger against his entrance. Kylo makes a strangled noise as she breaches him and presses, slowly, determinedly avoiding his prostate. Sometimes he comes just from this, but she does want to fuck him tonight. It’s always worth her time.

He takes the second finger with the same strangled noise, and his cock leaks onto her stomach. She groans at the feel of it, feeling herself get wetter in response. She scissors her fingers gently, just to make sure he’s stretched enough, and then, wickedly, crooks them in just the right spot.

Kylo responds beautifully, arching back against her fingers. She withdraws them, slowly, and watches Kylo shudder.

She shudders, too, when Kylo, face red, eyes soft, sweaty hair plastered to his face, whispers, “I’m so wet, I’m so wet for you, Anakin. Fuck me, Anakin, fuck me, please…”

She reaches behind him to align the shaft against him. As soon as she does, Kylo spears himself on it with a cry. She grunts at both the feel of it, the press and pressure of their bodies moving against each other, and the sight of it, of Kylo, panting, riding her fake cock for all he’s worth.

Phasma matches his intensity, grabbing his hips and slamming into him as hard as she can. She can tell when she hits his prostate because he whines a certain way, a sound that goes directly to her swollen, dripping cunt, separated from him by the harness.

She loves fucking Kylo like this. She doesn’t have to hold back. Kylo can take everything she’s got, unlike Hux, who only thinks he can. Sometimes, she wouldn’t mind running this scene with just them, no master to get between them, just Padmé and her naked, raw need for Anakin. She groans at the thought.

Kylo gyrates his hips and rocks back on her false cock, and it’s almost enough, but not quite. Kylo seems utterly transported, mouth open, eyes rolling into the back of his head. She shifts her sweat slick hands from his hips to grope at his ass, pulling him further down on the shaft and closer to her. The head of his cock occasionally drags at her stomach, setting her on fire.

He whines again, and she groans. Kylo leans over her, panting, and surprisingly, drops a kiss on Hux, who stirs sleepily. Kylo kisses her as well, desperately, and she knows he’s close.

“Do you forgive me, Anakin?” he asks. His voice is low and choked.

“Yes,” she breathes, and she’s too far gone to bother with the accent, thrusting into him mindlessly. “I do, I do.” She kisses his jaw, his throat.

“I love you, Anakin, I love you so much, you’re so good to me.” Kylo chokes out.

Even in character, even in this scene, even so fogged with lust, she’s loathe to tell Kylo that she loves him. She improvises. “Oh, Padmé, I’d marry you if I could.”

Kylo thrusts back onto her with a sob and comes, explosively, onto her stomach. She moans, thrusting into him once more just for the delicious feel of it, however incomplete it is. Her skin suddenly feels like it’s two sizes too small, her cunt still wet and throbbing.

Kylo dismounts awkwardly and lets himself collapse to her right, head on her shoulder. She breathes deeply through her nose, trying to master herself.

“You haven’t finished,” Hux observes, and Phasma almost starts, despite the fact that he’s been glued to her left side for the last however many minutes. She thought he’d fallen asleep, as he sometimes does.

He does look fit to fall asleep, but he reaches down to fiddle with the harness. While Hux unbuckles the harness, she turns her attention to Kylo. He’s crying a little, tears staining her naked shoulder. He sometimes does after sex, and almost always after they run this scene. It’s intense for him, it must be—who knows what passes for sex education amongst the Knights of Ren?

Hux unbuckles one side of the harness and slides two fingers over her cunt, squeezing her labia gently together—she suppresses a whine—before gently delving into her. She tugs on Kylo’s hair to kiss him through his tears and comes, groaning, into his mouth, when Hux barely brushes against her clit.

Hux pumps his fingers in and out of her, riding her orgasm with her, and he knows her responses well enough to withdraw just as she comes down. She opens her eyes—she hadn’t realized she’d closed them—to see Hux licking her slickness off of his fingers, grinning wickedly at her, and she grins back at him, her cunt pulsing weakly at the sight.

She closes her eyes and lets her head loll against the pillows. There’s a sound of metal as Hux unfastens the harness. She lifts up her hips so he can remove it and settles back into the bed. She feels tired and sticky, but sated and relaxed in a way she hasn’t felt for weeks. And not a little victorious, with the general curled up to one side of her and the Master of the Knights of Ren on the other.

Kylo is still crying, but he seems to be letting up. She pets his hair gently, kissing his forehead. (Hux requires no such aftercare.) This was a good go of it, she thinks. She yawns, wondering if she shouldn’t reward Kylo for mangling Hux a little. Maybe something to help him get into character. Something delicate. Something from Naboo.

Something for her beautiful Padmé.

GOOD LUCK FINN I AM SO EXCITED TO SEE HOW YOU HANDLE THIS MISSION.

I also like how in two quick glances Jess immediately knew what was up, and teased them both anyway lol I heart the pilot squad.

Incredible, anon. There's so much to love here, so much, but the best part for me was Kylo keeping the significance of the roles to himself.

He could be into something much weirder.

OH, HE IS.

Ah! I love this, Kylo is such a princess.

Move over Kylo, I want to be Phasma's princess.

Damn, you write Poe so well. That perfect mixture of flirty, dirty, and sincere. Such a gorgeous little fic.

poor Hux, he's kinky but this is over his head

(his aftercare is paperwork)

author!anon here saying i'm still working on this, but it's gone and grown a plot, so sorry for the delay )):

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PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

This post is closed to new prompts!

Re: Hux/Kylo [FILL] [3/3] - Captured Hux | Tortured? Kylo

Re: FILL: Leia/Phasma, height difference

Re: Hux- gen or any- manipulation, murder

[FILL!!] Re: Hux- gen or any- manipulation, murder

Re: Rey/Luke Luke offers some help

[FILL] Finn/Poe, Yavin 4 sexy warrior traditions 9/?

[FILL] Finn/Poe, 5 Surefire Ways to Win the Pilot of Your Dreams!! 1/6

5 Surefire Ways to Win the Pilot of Your Dreams!!

Re: Fill: Poe/Rey, forced by Kylo Ren 3/?

Re: [FILL] Poe is raped on the resistance base (pre-Finn/Poe, Finn & Rey) 12/?

Re: Fill: Poe/Rey, forced by Kylo Ren 3/?

Re: [FILL] Finn/Poe, 5 Surefire Ways to Win the Pilot of Your Dreams!! 1/6

Re: [FILL] Pre-Finn/Poe, Finn/Poe get their "I love you"/"I know" moment

Re: Fill: Poe/Rey, forced by Kylo Ren 3/?

Re: Fill: Poe/Rey, forced by Kylo Ren 3/?

Re: [FILL] Finn/Poe, 5 Surefire Ways to Win the Pilot of Your Dreams!! 1/6

FILL: Phasma/Kylo/Hux, roleplay 1/2

FILL: Phasma/Kylo/Hux, roleplay 2/2

Re: [FILL] Finn/Poe, 5 Surefire Ways to Win the Pilot of Your Dreams!! 1/6

Re: [FILL] Finn/Poe, 5 Surefire Ways to Win the Pilot of Your Dreams!! 1/6

Re: FILL: Phasma/Kylo/Hux, roleplay 2/2

Re: FILL: Phasma/Kylo/Hux, roleplay 2/2

Re: FILL: Phasma/Kylo/Hux, roleplay 2/2

Re: Fill: Hux/Poe, Poe flirts his way through Hux's interrogation

Re: FILL: Phasma/Kylo/Hux, roleplay 2/2

Re: FILL: Re: Poe/Finn Branding 11/?