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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

Nothing he does is working.

He lets his team members, he lets any storm trooper, die.

But Nines makes the same tired joke at breakfast the next morning. He goes back to watching their backs on the battlefield.

He hates going to the hot, sandy planet more than the never ending simulation.

The day doesn’t reset at any specific point. It continues until he goes to sleep.

So, he takes his turn in the refresher back on board the main ship and then heads to third shift duty assignment rather than the barracks. One day stretches into two… but if he stretches it into three Captain Phasma will become so disgusted with his performance that she’ll order him corrected.

Sleep deprivation makes him react oddly to orders and see things that aren’t there. Even though none of it is. It isn’t real. It’s not real.

Why can’t he break the cycle?

The technicians put him to sleep after debriefing, before correction, and he wakes up two days ago, again.

By now he can tell it’s the same morning just by the rhythm of breathing around him, and the particular shuffling of the earliest risers.

Sometimes he takes a few moments, lying there in the bunk before most of the others are awake, just to turn his hand over in front of his eyes. Is he aging? A few hundred days isn’t enough for him to be able to tell. After ten thousand days will his skin wrinkle? Could he die, truly, of old age? In twenty thousand days? Fifty? One hundred thousand?

He’s learned, by then, that a normal death only resets the scenario. If he’s killed coming off the carrier, or later in the battle, or decommissioned after because he’s raised his blaster and aimed it at Kylo Ren—

No. An ordinary death changes nothing.

In the morning they board the carrier and go back to Jakku.

FN-2187 would die a hundred times in a row just to never return to Jakku again.

He might not have so much trouble if they had gone anywhere else, literally anywhere else. Why did their first real mission have to be against untrained villagers taken by surprise?

Sometimes he kills their commanders, because they’re the reason he’s trapped in this endless hell. He’s no longer convinced obedience will save him. He’s not even sure any more if the first day ever really happened or if the entire thing was a simulation from the start.

He can’t guess at what the purpose is besides punishment, but he’s also at a loss as to what he did to deserve it.

Once, once, Nine Nine is killed in the fighting and no one replaces him at FN-2187’s side at the right moment. He’s sent to search and destroy the prisoner’s X-Wing alone. When it explodes and knocks him backwards he lays on the ground staring up at the sky until it tilts into the dark. It had been hours and he hadn’t been unconscious or dreaming. The battalion had left long ago, leaving him with the dead.

He wakes up in the barracks.

His escape attempts are largely futile. He’s never been trained on a TIE fighter and after the first few dozen attempts it’s obvious that he’s not going to learn in the ten minutes snatched between gaining the cockpit and being dragged out. Not unless he’s willing to repeat it a few thousand times more.

If he flees on foot, planetside, he’s either killed by bandits before dark or he lives long enough to collapse in exhaustion and fall asleep.

He tries to steal the X-Wing once, before it can be destroyed, but its controls are even more confusing than the TIE fighter and he’d just killed Nine Nine for nothing.

There’s no other way off the station once they return, save reconditioning which doesn’t work.

In the beginning he’d spent a handful of days figuring out how to convince Captain Phasma to let him into the prisoner’s interrogation. By then he knew that none of the storm troopers would be successful at getting information out of him, and he’d thought that if he could be the one to do it –

He hadn’t been. And he’d only ever talked himself into it once. Ever since that day, he’d memorized the duration of the interrogations and fastidiously avoided that the corridor where the prisoner was kept until well after they were done. His room-turned-cell wasn’t sound proofed and the screams echoed.

He’d never interacted with the prisoner himself, not even during the one disastrous interrogation sit-in. In the beginning, he’d tried killing him during the conflict, before he could shoot at Kylo Ren, but it was distracting and he’d tired of it. He’d also inspected the man’s X-Wing hundreds of times by now. He knew the picture the man kept tucked into his cockpit frame, he knew what notch he kept the seat at and that the radio was set to play soft music. He knew the man could fly an X-Wing.

That morning he’d fumbled the planetside conflict. It was the first time Nines had died, ever. He didn’t know what he’d done differently, after hundreds of runs, and he’d been so caught off guard that he’d missed his mark after the fighting died down and been ordered to shoot on the civilians for the first time in ages.

Nines’ blaster had exploded in his grip and in his last motion he’d reached up to touch FN-2187’s faceplate. The dirty streaks his touch left ran across his vision.

He couldn’t even bring himself to aim his blaster at the huddled group before them. They screamed.

When he tore his helmet off on the ship he could finally see the dark red of the smears Nines had left there.

He only ever sav—he only ever stole the prisoner the one time.

By then he could have gone anywhere he wished on the ship and have a reasonable excuse. Sometimes he’d done it wavering on his feet from sleep dep, which was more obvious than his jangling nerves. The guard didn’t even question him. He collected the prisoner with Kylo Ren’s name on his lips and shoved him into the closest deserted corridor.

“Listen carefully. If you do exactly as I say I can get you out of here.”

He’d had a surprising number of first conversations that day. First time he told Zeroes and Slip that Nines was dead. First time Captain Phasma had had to tell him to put his helmet back on.

But

“You need a pilot.”

He’d seen right through him. For countless days, every conversation FN-2187 had had been either scripted or full of easily swallowed lies while he tried not to reveal things he had no way of knowing.

The newness was like electricity under his skin, crawling bright and restless. He led them through the bay to his chosen TIE fighter with his blood practically singing. Even the resulting disaster wasn’t enough to quell the excitement. Next time he’d know to unclip the fighter before they got in. He turned the guns on his fellow troopers to get the practice more than anything. Next time they’d make it to the hanger forcefield before anyone had even noticed.

But then, they snapped free of the mooring line. They were out in free space.

He practiced shooting the turrets.

He didn’t need to practice. He was good.

Unbelievably – incredibly – they succeeded. He was going to ride out of this nightmare with the prisoner, Poe. Poe Dameron. On the first try.

Except the jackass wanted to go back to Jakku. And then they were shot down.

He spat sand out of his mouth when he woke up, groaning, aching, hot. Everything hurt and there was a burning line of pain across his shoulder where his armor must have pressed.

A quick panicked breath. He’d just woken up. He wanted to cry for the sand up his nose and gritting up the corners of his eyes.

He’d done it. He’d broken the cycle. He was free.

He was also alone.

The TIE fighter disappeared into the sand when he found it, taking every trace of Poe Dameron’s body with it except the hastily snatched jacket. Nines was dead, maybe for real this time. He’d killed all those people on the station, maybe for real.

Finn had escaped, but he’d blown up the whole world to do it. And now he was stuck on bloody Jakku, utterly alone.

This is wonderful! I love how you wrote it. Amazing. <3

holy shiiiiiiiiit! this is hypnotically fucked up. A+++ fill!

This was so so good! The idea to have Finn think it was all a training sim was brilliant, him using the resets to perfect the optimal massacre plan was fascinating (if chilling), and the fact that it kept throwing him back to Jakku was AMAZING. I can NEVER get enough of Finn hating Jakku.

He turned the guns on his fellow troopers to get the practice more than anything. Next time they’d make it to the hanger forcefield before anyone had even noticed.

I really love this detail, and then how his freedom from the cycle comes with the cost of realizing that his actions were, in fact, For Real That Time.

Also, it's interesting that in this new canon timeline it's Nines that dies instead of Slip. I'm picturing Slip showing up outside Maz's for the "TRAITORR!!" confrontation, whipping the baton around and probably whacking himself in the face, poor Slip.

OMG I just found this and it's fantastic. If this is the prologue, then I could happily read ten more chapters! I hope you come back to this eventually <3

Finn hating Jakku makes even more sense than before.

This is a beautiful story you had me laughing and squealing over them and suffering along with Finn. His friends are the best I so enjoyed the hints of Jess and Rey.

This story is so fantastic please please please continue it! I love it so much.

Poe and Finn's every interaction is pure gold and so are Rey and Finn (though unlike Poe, I don't think he's in love with her, but has rather recognized her for what she is) and now Han...! Oh man Han. Finn is going to have to explain now.

And I absolutely love your AU!Finn. He is still completely the Finn we know and love, and yet he has been given the chance to be the confident and highly trained badass he could have become under better circumstances. After all he was Phasma's golden boy! It's so great we get to see this kick-ass First Order (or should that rather be Knights loyalist) Finn.

Oh wow that was deliciously painful and perfect!

I love how you pull no punches. Finn's terror is so stark I could feel it.

God, I love the proprietary feeling Rey has, like she belongs on her throne...and how Kylo totally supports it. <3

Ahhhhhhh! Thank you so much.

Finn is probably so glad to see green stuff at Maz Kanata's his awe rivals Rey's. Unfortunately for him what he actually hated about Jakku wasn't the planet itself.

Thank you so much for the kind comment!

I didn't realize there was canon confirmation of who died, although Slip definitely makes sense. I feel like poor Slip needs a break. And he is definitely the one that attacks Finn later. Slip might be sort of sad and downtrodden, but he has a lot of repressed resentment and bitterness... he'd probably jump at the chance to avenge himself against Finn.

Now cleaned up a little and reposted at AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6761068

Wow, that is so awesome!
I laughed so hard, I think I melted.

I have to ask: would you mind terribly, if I'd translated this to Russian? Obviously, I'll send you the link (when it's done) and it will be marked that you are the author (if you'll want to deanon)

Please?

Edited 2016-05-13 05:28 (UTC)

It wasn't even ten minutes after Kylo forced the mysterious red pill down Poe's throat that he figured out what it was meant for. The slow-building pressure in his gut was one thing, the overfull feeling that accompanied drinking something thick too quickly rising inside in spite of his not drinking anything in the recent past, but, laying on his back, it was also possible to see when the swell in his stomach became visible.

He let his head fall back against the table he'd been restrained on, trying to breathe through the feeling, trying to imagine what kind of strange new torture this was meant to be. When Kylo stood from where he'd been sitting in the corner, coming over to circle his body, Poe let his eyes fall closed as well.

They snapped open when Kylo pressed a hand against his stomach and pushed down. Poe hissed out an unsteady breath through his teeth, his hands clenching into fists where they were restrained above his head.

"How does that feel?" Kylo asked, his voice calm and even. Even when Kylo finally removed his hand, the feeling continued to grow worse. The discomfort made Poe uncreative.

"Fuck you," he growled, his voice rough from misuse. He tracked Kylo with his eyes as the other man paced back and forth around the bottom of the table. As his stomach continued to expand, growing well past what any amount of eating or drinking could achieve naturally, his clothing began to dig painfully into his skin. Involuntarily, Poe squirmed, a whimper breaking free from the back of his throat.

"Would you like some help with that?" Kylo asked, the corner of his mouth turning up in the beginning of a condescending smirk. Poe was halfway through coming up with a witty retort when the meaning of Kylo's question clicked, and it began to dawn on him what kind of torture this was.

If the fullness in his stomach hadn't already been making it hard to breathe, this realization would have. He began to pant desperately, and it took him a couple of minutes to realize that Kylo's fingers were lightly tracing his stomach through his clothes. He tried to yank away, but the restraints on his hands and feet didn't allow for much movement.

"Do you think you'll tear through your clothes eventually without my help, or do you think you'll burst from the pressure first?"

Poe felt his eyes grow wide. Being naked in this situation was horrifying, but he was completely unsure of how this pill worked, and the prospect that he might actually burst was more horrifying. Gritting his teeth, he managed to stutter, "Ple-please, Ren. Please."

That stupid condescending smirk grew as Kylo moved his eyes from Poe's stomach to his face. "Please what?"

Poe had to remind himself of the threat of bursting to be able to make himself say, "Please--take my pants off."

Kylo's fingers slipped beneath Poe's waistband in a motion so casually intimate that it made Poe shudder. The cold air hitting his cock and thighs as the pants were left to pool around his restrained feet didn't help.

Trying to hide the pain and fear, Poe tried to demand, "What kind of kinky fuckery is--" He cut off abruptly with a gasp when Kylo shoved a fingertip into his asshole.

"You know, I've thought about this for a long time." Kylo reached to his left, out of Poe's line of sight, and then he shoved two lubed fingers into Poe's ass. Poe jerked in his bonds, and then moaned in pain as the movement worsened the tightness in his belly.

"You look good like this," Kylo continued, scissoring his fingers in Poe's ass before adding a third finger. It was too much stretch too fast, but being filled up in any way when he was already so full was worse than the strain on his hole.

Poe had started to lose the thread of what was happening when the manacles on his hands and feet clicked loose with a mechanical whir. For a brief, irrational second his heart lifted with the hope of escape, before Kylo slipped a hand behind his back and pulled him up into a sitting position. Even that small movement made him feel like he was going to be sick, and his heavy middle prevented any real movement. Even if there had been an opportunity for him to get out of this room, he wouldn't have been able to take it. The reality of his situation brought him to the edge of tears, and he blinked quickly, hoping that Kylo wouldn't notice the weakness.

Fortunately for him, Kylo was focused on rubbing his hands over his stomach, pulling his shirt up so that he could feel the stretched skin. The tender motion had already brought the comparison to Poe's mind by the time that Kylo said, "You could be pregnant, like this. You would look good, carrying my baby."

Poe shook his head in fervent denial, of the statement, of the situation, but it was the extent of the resistance he was capable of, and Kylo ignored it. Kylo took a minute to pull Poe's clothing the rest of the way off his body, leaving him completely exposed, and then he pulled Poe to his feet.

If sitting up had been hard, then standing was brutal, and Poe felt his cheeks burn as lube dripped from his hastily stretched asshole down his thigh. Fortunately, Kylo shoved him down onto his hands and knees a moment later. Less fortunately, Poe didn't quite manage to get his arms under him, and the pressure as his bloated stomach pressed against the floor was blinding.

Kylo yanked on his hair and, despite the pain, it lifted Poe enough that he was able to place his shaking arms on the ground and push himself up. As long as he managed to stay all the way up on his hands and knees, his belly hovered just above the floor, but any lapse, any bend in his arms, and his stomach would be pressed into the cold hard floor. Worse, Poe was pretty sure he had still not stopped swelling, that drinking heavy liquid feeling intensifying past what he would ever have thought his body capable of handling, and keeping his stomach away from the floor was gradually become less and less of an option. His face now hidden from Kylo Ren by his position, tears filled his eyes once more, his face screwing up as he fought the overwhelming urge to cry.

He was so preoccupied with managing the overfull sensation that he had barely managed to process that he was about to get fucked, and it startled him when Kylo began to nudge his lubed cock against his entrance. One of Kylo's hand remained twined through his hair, yanking him up enough that his hands scrabbled for purchase at the floor, while the other hand gripped his hip, holding him steady as he eased his cock inside.

The feeling of being filled up from another direction, of somehow being made even fuller as he took the entirety of Kylo's cock in one slow, hard push, broke something in Poe. He began to sob openly as Kylo kept him speared on his cock for far too long, forcing him to feel like he might explode at any moment. In any other situation, Poe might have been grateful for the time to adjust to the cock stretching his insides. As it was, the feeling was torturous, and Poe just wanted him to move already.

His voice was too high as he gasped in between sobs, "Please, please, fuck me, please, fuck me fuck me fu--" Poe cut off with a shriek as Kylo pulled out and slammed back in, too hard too fast, setting a rough, punishing rhythm. Kylo let go of Poe's hair so that he could place both hands on Poe's hips and fuck him harder, and Poe collapsed down onto his elbows, screaming as his stomach smashed into the floor.

Now that he had started, it was impossible to stop making noise, sobbing each time Kylo pulled out and shrieking each time he shoved back in. Each movement pushed his belly against the ground, and the pain made him clench wildly around Kylo's cock. Even over his own frantic noises he could hear Kylo groaning each time Poe spasmed around him.

The yelp that Poe made the first time Kylo struck his prostate dead-on though was distinct enough that Kylo chuckled, and began to hit that spot over and over. Though Poe's cock had been extremely uninterested in these proceedings so far, it began to rise to attention with humiliating speed.

"You love this. You love that you don't have to feel empty, any more, that you finally feel full. That I filled you up," Kylo panted against his spine as he pressed light bites into the skin there, reaching around to stroke Poe's cock. "You would take anything I gave you, wouldn't you? You're made to take, to be filled." Poe could not have replied if he'd wanted to. The only reason he was still up on his knees was because of Kylo's hand gripping his hip, Kylo's cock in his ass, and his arms had completely given out. He was well past the point of being able to relieve the pressure on his stomach, or even, really, being able to care.

Kylo's thrusts began to lose tempo, and as he neared completion he pulled out and flipped Poe onto his back, ripping another scream out of his victim's throat. He spread Poe's legs whorishly wide and buried himself back into Poe's tight heat, thrusting hard and desperate even as his hand worked to finish Poe off.

Poe cried through the most painful orgasm of his life, his ass clamping down on Kylo's dick. Kylo's eyes fluttered as he reached his completion, and he pulled out so that he could cum over Poe's stomach.

Kylo stayed kneeling there in between Poe's limp legs, catching his breath, until he could trust his legs enough to stand. He cleaned up and dressed, before turning back and looking over his swollen and cum-covered prisoner, whose well-fucked ass was leaking lube and precum, whose face was red and his eyes bloodshot from crying, and who looked utterly incapable of movement. Unable to help himself, Kylo leaned over to smear his cum into Poe's skin, tearing weak whimpers from Poe when he pressed down too hard. It made his recently-sated cock twitch, and the idea of leaving Poe here, alone, was nearly unbearable.

Duty called, however. Though Poe seem too far gone to ask, Kylo still told him, half a promise to Poe and half to himself, "The drug should already be wearing off. I'll send some troopers in to clean you and put your cuffs back on when you're back to normal so we can play again later."

fuckkk i hate that i love this but i do, this has always been my #1 kin, despite all reason or logic. so. thanks for this. this is excellent. looking forward to more please - sequel?

Damn..I don't know since when I liked this sort of story. You've awaken a kink in me!

YOU HAVE AWOKEN SOMETHING IN ME, ANON. *fans self* Damn! I'm glad I decided to click this!

Hope this isn't dead! It's amazing and wonderful. <3

diff anon

IM REALLY INTO YOUR MIND, OP

Space travel was dull. That was the uncomfortable conclusion that Rey had come to. On the other hand, there was an undeniable sense of security to being in FTL transit. Nothing could touch them, there. After a life full of uncertainty, FTL was the only time Rey felt she could really relax. She curled up in her seat in the cockpit and let her eyes unfocus.

Chewbacca woke her for his watch. He didn't seem to mind that she had drifted off while she was supposed to be keeping an eye on the Falcon's vital signs. He must have a lot of faith in the old girl, and the new. Rey smiled sleepily as he took his seat and called up the diagnostics. She stretched and rubbed her eyes.

Chewie murmured at her quietly.

“I don't think I could,” replied Rey. “I just slept … four hours?”

Chewie grunted.

“No, I'm not really hungry either. I'll just sit here for a bit.”

Rey watched Chewbacca flicking through the logs on his terminal. He paused every so often to scratch madly at his fur, brief intense moments that didn't seem to bring him much relief. Rey wondered if it was a nervous habit, or if his lush fur played host to some dependent ecosystem. She imagined colonies of tiny mouse-like creatures, farmers that raised their crops furtively in the deep furze close to the roots, forever living in fear that their activity would trigger the coming of the Fingers, the ravaging Nails.

Rey's scalp itched sympathetically. She hadn't got used to bathing so regularly yet. Feeling clean prickled. She scratched at her head, but that only made it worse. She brought both hands in to play and really worked her fingers down through her hair.

Chewie admonished her in a slightly mocking tone. His spreading hand pushed her own out of the way and slid effortlessly through her hair to land on her scalp. The pads of his fingers were huge and soft, his reach easily encompassed her head from ear to ear. And it felt so good when he started to knead gently.

“Oh wow,” said Rey, letting her hands fall away. She slumped back in her seat. “Wow.”

Chewie yawped a question at her.

“Uh, sure, but...” Rey hesitated, partly to draw out the scalp massage, but mainly because she wasn't sure if she was about to be hopelessly offensive or charmingly naïve. “You don't have things<\i>? Do you? That make you itch?”

Chewie's barked response was less informative than the sudden withdrawal of his hand.

“Sorry!” Rey was mortified. “Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude.”

Rey thought that his resentful whine was most likely posturing. She hadn't had a lot of experience of Chewbacca's moods, but he rarely seemed to stay upset for long. “I'll fix us something,” she said. She'd got the hang of his eating habits, at least. But she'd only taken a step or two out of the cockpit before she padded back in silently, and drove the splayed fingers of both her hands into the flowing brown fur of his head.

Accompanied by a roar of surprise, lanky fur-covered arms and legs exploded across the cockpit. Rey was tugged off her feet, and saw the world upside-down for a moment before finding herself nose to nose with Chewie. He held her in a tight bear hug, and complained at her at some length. His breath wasn't so great.

Rey tried to breathe through her mouth, pulling away as far as she could. She got the gist of what he was saying but there was a lot of unfamiliar vocabulary that she didn't know. He was... upset with her? About something? She couldn't do much more than nod politely, his muscles were like hot steel under the softness of his pelt.

Then Rey felt something stiff and warm brush at her thigh and she put two and two together. Her eyes widened and she glanced down. “Oh! Oh, I'm so stupid! Sorry, Chewie!”

Chewbacca relaxed his grip on her. He rubbed at her scalp again with one hand, and it was no less pleasant than the first time. He mumbled interrogatively.

“Well... I suppose,” said Rey. She leaned back aaginst the strong arm that supported her waist. “I mean, it's not like I haven't tried a few things.”

Chewie barked a series of questions at her.

“Um. No. Not that. Not that either. Definitely not that. I will absolutely not be doing that<\i>.”

Chewbacca grew more argumentative. He plucked at Rey's hair, running his fingers through it.

“This isn't a negotiation! But... I could, I suppose. Here, let me, it'll be quicker.” Rey brushed his hands away and deftly undid the knot of string that held her triple ponytail in order. She split her hair into two and started twisting up one half. “Like this?” she asked.

Chewie had some detailed advice that she tried to follow as closely as she could. She twisted and coiled her hair on both sides. Chewie nodded and brayed his satisfaction.

“You'll have to speak up!” Rey said playfully, cupping her hands over the coiled buns that covered her ears. Chewie cuddled her and stroked her back. Rey put her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled at him, bun-coils tickling at his broad nose.

He voiced some further requirements.

“Berate you?” asked Rey. She pulled back to face him. “How?”

Chewie went on an some length, until Rey interrupted him.

“OK, OK, I get the idea! Quiet down, you big, hairy, walking carpet!”

Chewbacca nodded vigorously and called out his approval.

“Uh, let's see now... You big, hairy fuzzball, you couldn't pilot a waste-disposal unit! And I'm sure you've got fleas!”

Chewbacca tightened his grip on Rey's waist let out a sound like a scared donkey.

“You smell like wet bantha! You're a no-good, low-down, tangle-haired moof-milker!”

Chewbacca held Rey close and let off like a foghorn right in her ear. Luckily her braided hair muffled the worst of it. Then Rey felt something hot and slimy coursing over her leg. Chewbacca twitched and brayed, his long body shuddering in the co-pilot's chair. He calmed down eventually.

Rey found herself reluctant to let go of Chewbacca, even after he relaxed his grip on her. She nuzzled into his shoulder and didn't move until the slime on her leg started to feel unpleasantly cool.

“That was fun,” she whispered, kissing him chastely on the tip of his nose. Then she noticed that his breathing was measured, and that he was asleep. She climbed off him carefully and stood. Her legs were a little wobbly. And a fearsome itch was bothering her. She left a narrow trail of wetness behind her as she made for the head.

it's not dead, but it is currently in full beta mode because I'm having trouble wrangling it right now. soon!

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Page 247 of 252

PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

This post is closed to new prompts!

Fill 2/4

Fill 3/4

Fill 4/4

Re: Fill 4/4

Re: FILL: Kylo/Hux - castration, creepy!Kylo, humiliation, dubcon

Re: Fill 4/4

Re: FILL: Some Rise By Sin (1/?) - Gen (for now) - (almost) everyone is a double agent

Re: Fill 4/4

Re: FILL: Kylo/[Finn]: expectations vs reality [4/4]

Re: FILL (4)

Re: Fill (2/2) - Finn/Poe, past Kylo Ren/Finn noncon

Re: fill: ennui

Re: Fill 4/4

Re: Fill 4/4

Re: Fill 4/4

Re: Fill 1/4

Re: Rey/Kylo tickle interrogation [FILL]

FILL: Poe/Kylo: NONCON (all of it); inflation, torture, body modification

Re: FILL: Poe/Kylo: NONCON (all of it); inflation, torture, body modification

Re: FILL: Poe/Kylo: NONCON (all of it); inflation, torture, body modification

Re: FILL: Poe/Kylo: NONCON (all of it); inflation, torture, body modification

Re: FILL: Re: Poe/Finn Branding 15/?

Re: OP - Re: Kylo/Hux (sorta) - Hux jerks it to nasty shit - torture, gore, non con

Re: Rey/Chewie

Re: FILL: Re: Poe/Finn Branding 15/?