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tfa_kink2016-01-13 02:14 pm
themodawakens) wrote in tfa_kink2016-01-13 02:14 pm
Entry tags:
PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED
This post is closed to new prompts!
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
Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-15 01:06 am (UTC)(link)Author can do anything they like, plot/kink-wise. Preferably in character but crack is fine; I just need one on the books.
Re: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-15 01:38 am (UTC)(link)Re: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-15 07:24 am (UTC)(link)It's perfect.
Re: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-15 08:17 am (UTC)(link)At least it doesn't make me think of Mark twain the way Hux/Finn does.
Re: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-15 09:42 am (UTC)(link)Re: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-16 03:50 am (UTC)(link)FILL: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-19 05:26 am (UTC)(link)From the summit of the officer quarters, Starkiller is an impressive feat: ice and metal as far as the eye can see, bodies moving across its pathways like blood through veins. The base itself is a triumph of engineering, the culmination of the First Order’s strength and the final proof that they are the Empire’s only worthy successors. To be at the helm of the most fearsome weapon the galaxy has ever seen is a privilege worthy of Palpatine himself, and yet as Hux looks out onto his sprawling purlieu all he can see is imperfection. The specs of dust that hang in the air, the single soldier who marches out of formation, the minute flaws in design that keep him awake at night.
The Empire had thought itself invincible, so had the Jedi, now both were little more than ephemera. Snoke had chosen him for his meticulousness, his ability to keep a cool head while others – namely Ren – barely lasted more than a fortnight without exploding.
“Sir, may I have a word.”
Phasma enters the airless space of the room in full regalia, her body a column of silver. Trooper uniforms typically rendered their wearers anonymous, but Phasma seemingly refused to be anything other than individual. As sparing as he can be with his praise, Hux finds the captain impressive. Phasma’s presence commands attention, her resolve coupled with her ruthless pursuit of advancement and unwavering loyalty to the cause makes her formidable as an ally and opponent.
“You may,” Hux nods in acknowledgement of her presence, but doesn’t turn to face her.
“The Stormtroopers are yours to command, you should never forget that.”
With her helmet firmly in place it’s difficult to understand her meaning; Hux has never cared for the tradition of camouflage and voice modifiers that so many in the Order were accustomed to. The thought of being suffocated within a metal cage strikes him as unnecessarily brutal. When he finally turns towards Phasma can see his likeness in her armor, his face a gaunt mask of white and red.
“And what would lead you think that I have forgotten?” His words come out harsher than he intended. “Remove your mask, Captain, I’d like to communicate with a living being.”
“My apologies, sir.” Phasma’s hair sticks to her face, the white strands blending into the paleness of her skin. Without concealment she’s every bit as powerful, towering over him and leering down, eyes filled with menace. In an odd way she reminds him of himself, the same pallor, the same reckless ambition. “You should know that the Stormtroopers are yours to command.”
“Just what would make you think I’d forgotten that.”
Phasma circles him, mouth curling into a smile. “You utilize their skills in combat and yet they remain invisible to you otherwise, you fail to see how malleable they are, how well they follow instruction.”
Though he maintains his composure, Hux can feel his teeth grinding together.
“I understand the strengths of my men, I helped to train them, after all.”
“Then why do you look elsewhere for what you can find right here amongst their ranks. You’d be surprised how responsive they are – how eager for a firm hand to guide them.”
The First Order has always presented itself as a united front, but it thrives on a network of secrets. Those in higher ranks rely on spies and underlings to provide them with information necessary to dethrone their enemies, while those lower on the ladder keep record of every misdeed committed by their commanding officers with the hope that one day the intelligence can net rewards. Hux can’t deny the effectiveness of the tactic, it certainly has aided his own career, but to see himself played in the same way is somehow unexpected.
“Phasma, as your superior I should warn you that your willingness to flaunt protocol will eventually catch up with you.”
“And I should warn you that there are eyes everywhere, even in the back rooms of off-world cantinas,” Phasma’s tone is light, almost playful as her words cut deeper. “What did you ask that Arkanian to do to you again – oh yes, I remember now. Well, I suppose a cantina is the right place to seek out a warm drink.”
The threat of discovery has always hovered in Hux’s consciousness. He is above all things discreet, crossing half the galaxy in search of a fix, a partner able to push him to the brink, tear him down until he’s bruised and open, mind empty save the remembrance of pain. Hux knows he’s done things, filthy, wanton things for which he feels no remorse and he isn’t about let Phasma shame him for it.
“Cataloguing the deficiencies of our betters, a cherished skill for all with ambition,” Hux steps closer, looks up into her vacant gaze and bares his teeth. “How quickly you’ve risen Phasma, the fall would be crippling. I would hate to see that beautiful neck crushed.”
“I seek only to help you.” Phasma rests her hand on his shoulder, its leaden weight making him ache slightly. “When venraps nest they do so in pairs. Others would judge your predilections but I offer a solution. There thousands of warm, willing bodies for you to use however you please.”
“And you their cold, metal mother trading her children for a place in the hierarchy.”
“You would judge that, wouldn’t you, even here amongst the amoral, you still think yourself superior for having ethics. It’s almost as sad as Ren’s little code; am I to find you huddled in a storeroom wracked with guilt, weeping for your mother?”
“I killed her coming out of the womb, so forgive me if I lack a the proper respect for maternal authority.”
Phasma quiets at that, regarding him carefully before putting her helmet back on.
“Believe it or not this isn’t a bid for power, this is an offering and the closest thing to friendship you will find on this rock. I know you want to purge the light from something pure, and I have something very pure ready for the taking.”
...
It takes two weeks for Hux to accept Phasma’s offer, and when he does it’s more out of desperation than curiosity. The combination of Snoke’s demands and Kylo Ren’s increasing hysteria cause him to crave distraction. Nights spent tugging at his cock to the thought of a boot bearing down on his throat no longer provide adequate release. The cycle has started against his will, and now substitution only serves to push him closer towards the fulfillment of reality.
The boy Phasma sends is green, he doesn’t even need to remove his mask for Hux to see his nervousness. FN-2187’s designation places him at the bottom of the heap in terms of responsibilities, but Hux is certain Phasma wouldn’t waste his time when it comes to something this intimate. In the quiet of his private rooms, Hux orders the trooper to remove his mask and finds his interest piqued. The boy’s skin is smooth and the rich hue of fine tabac, his lips are full and slightly red from being bitten. Hux swallows, if this works out he’ll personally mark Phasma for promotion.
“Do you know what this is?”
Hux pulls the flogger from its box, admiring its thick, woven handle before setting it onto the bed. The boy's eyes widen with fear but his voice comes out steady.
“A whip, sir.”
“Good. Do you know what it is used for?” Hux runs his fingers over the straps gingerly.
“I have an idea.”
“I would like you to use it on me.”
A momentary terror flashes on FN-2187’s face, Hux is certain the boy had been expecting the opposite, bracing himself to be beaten and punished for some imagined offense. The naïveté is almost appealing, but Hux can’t wait to break in his new toy.
“And if I hurt you?” The question is so genuine it almost makes Hux laugh.
“All the better.”
Hux places the flogger in the boy’s hand, watches the way he marvels at its heft. With the right training this one could be perfect, Hux can already feel himself growing hard in the confines of his uniform as he imagines the thrill of each impending lesson.
“How will I know when to stop–”
As common as safe words were, Hux had never utilized one, preferring to conclude only when his body had given out all it could.
“I will inform you of the successful completion of this task and if your performance is adequate you will be rewarded.”
“Yes sir.”
“Remove your uniform.”
FN-2187 complies slowly, staring at the ground as he removes layer upon layer of armor. He’s more muscular than Hux expects, but lean his chest covered in a thin sheen of sweat, nipples dark and ready to be kissed or sucked. Hux is breathing through his nose, mouth a thin, hard line as he watches. The boy removes everything but his undergarments, then meets Hux’s eyes tentatively.
“All of it,” Hux chokes out. He’d tear the offending fabric away with his teeth if tonight wasn’t about control. The boy nods his head and with shaking hands pushes his briefs down, stepping out of them to stand with his hands at his sides. His cock lies limp between his legs, thick, a shade deeper than the rest of him and nestled in dark curls. Hux’s mouth is dry, his nails are digging into his hand hard enough that a single drop of blood forms at the center of his palm.
“I want you to strike me, first with your hand, and then using the flogger.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When I am on the ground I want you to remove my clothing. Roughly. Then await further instruction, is this understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
The first blow is little more than a slap, Hux hisses and says harder, his cheek burning with anger and pain. The boy hits him again, with only slightly more pressure, and Hux thinks he might scream in frustration.
“Slap me again and I will slit your throat you pathetic little–”
It’s then that the trooper punches hard, fist crushing into his jaw with a force strong enough to make his teeth rattle. Hux can taste the blood rushing into his mouth, he savors the strange metallic taste, the way it makes him feel lightheaded and powerless.
“That the best you can do?” Hux spits red onto the ground. “I ought to send you to reprogramming for being such a failure–”
FN-2187 hits again, this time slamming into his chest and bringing him to his knees. Hux scrambles on the floor desperate to rut against something, the ache in his body intensifying his arousal. Out of the corner of his eye he can see FN-2187 reach for the flogger.
“Fuck, yes.”
For a novice, the boy manages to land an impressive amount of strikes. Hux sobs with every blow, grinding his hips against the ground and murmuring faint praise as he’s debased. When the boy starts pawing at his uniform, he tenses.
“Do you not want me to?” FN-2187 rubs his hands over Hux’s flanks as he asks, the movement is unnerving and overly intimate. Next time Hux will have to be clearer in his instructions, ruling out any touch that can’t leave a bruise in its wake.
For the moment however, he’ll enjoy all that is offered.
“Yes. Tear them off me.”
In his fantasies, Hux’s garments are shredded, at times cut from his body as a blade lingers at his throat. What FN-2187 offers is different, he doesn’t rip off Hux’s clothes, but he makes a show of pulling off his shirt and trousers, tossing them halfway across the room and pausing to study the faint scars that cover Hux’s body.
“Hit me,” Hux grunts out. “Hit me.”
Instead, FN-2187 runs his fingers over the hair covering Hux’s groin, his hand large and dark against the thatch of red.
“You’re very beautiful,” the boy says quietly. “Even with the marks.”
Hux can feel his face burning. He’s never asked for kind words or gentleness, and he certainly doesn’t need them now. FN-2187 runs the floggers strands down his torso slowly, lets them ghost over his nipples and stomach, traces the smooth leather across his cock, the softest tease of pressure against his sac making him writhe. Hux grabs the boy’s hand and grips it tightly.
“That’s not what I asked you to do is it?”
“I just thought–”
“Know your place. Your compliance will be well-rewarded, trust me.”
FN-2187 looks away from him then, taking the hilt in his hands and raising it high above his head.
When the blows come quick and hard enough to draw blood Hux spills with a shout, disappointed in his lack of stamina, his inability to fully tame this wayward pet. In time the boy will not concern himself with Hux’s capacity for pain, he’ll learn how to wound without self-reproach or concern, how to break the skin with every crack of the whip. Hux imagines all this as he pulls the boy on top of his body, encouraging him to use his body, to split him open with that thick cock and leave him gaping. FN-2187 kisses his throat, traces his lips over the spots of skin that are purple and aching.
“So beautiful…”
Hux would chide the boy but he’s too caught up in the rapturous feel of a body pressed atop his own, the slick heat of another man’s seed splattering against his chest and stomach, all the things he’s missed in the months since his last sojourn. He doesn’t even correct FN-2187 when he whispers, “thank you.”
...
Phasma’s armour glitters as she marches her latest troops through the halls of the base, Hux nods in her direction, noting the red stripe her cloak now bears. Since delivering impassioned praise of Phasma’s abilities to Supreme Leader Snoke, Hux has resolved to keep a watchful eye on her progress lest she prove him wrong. The glowing review seemed to strike Kylo Ren as being out of character, but Hux enjoys keeping his competition on their toes.
“Captain Phasma, I request that FN-2187 be transferred; I am in need of a personal attendant and I feel he is ideally equipped for the task.”
Hux doesn’t need to see beyond the warped reflection of himself in Phasma’s helmet to know that she is smiling.
Also posted on AO3 if anyone prefers to read there. (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5761300)
Re: FILL: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-19 09:20 am (UTC)(link)THIS IS JUST SO FUCKING AMAZING. You went above and beyond what I expected and omg I am just so PUMPED because this is so well-written and it even has one of my kinks in it (done so so well, too). The characterization was on point, too!I CANNOT STRESS HOW FANTASTIC THIS FIC IS FROM THE FIRST WORD TO THE LAST.
THANK YOU SO MUCH. The Finn/Hux tag on AO3 has not only a fix but a quality A+++++ fix at that! (I am definitely leaving a kudos on AO3 but I wish I could leave a million!)
Re: FILL: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-20 01:17 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-20 03:47 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-20 05:08 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Hux/Finn, anything goes
(Anonymous) 2016-01-20 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)