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PROMPT POST #3 - CLOSED

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+ 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

This is so great. I love the ~reinterpretation~ of canon, and I might've seal-clapped at this part:

“It’s always a trap,” Finn sighed.

Yesss. Can't wait for the next part, author!anon. :D

Han doesn't know if he'll come back. He gives her something before he goes. (explicit or not, writer's choice)

+ if Han returns as a force ghost to tell Leia he loves her
++ & that -- there's still good in him. He just needs more help.
+++ "My love, take your time
I’ll see you on the other side
Raise a glass to freedom..."

Finally, General Hux has come face to face with General Organa. He has long dreamed of this moment.

Specifically, because he can finally, finally, FINALLY indulge in a long-cherished dream of informing (lit: ranting at) her about EVERYTHING her son has been up to. The corridors! The bad attempts at going undercover! The annual budgetary expense - oh Maker, the budget... They've had to install a 'Kylo Ren' slush fund! He tinkers with the Environmental controls whenever he gets bored! He takes Tie fighters out for joyrides! Whenever he doesn't know something he makes vague references to 'the Force' and 'the will of the Force' - Hux has seen him solumely declare that the fate of the VERY LAST COOKIE was predetermined before he ate it!

Leia actually feels the tiniest bit sorry for this poor man as Hux continues to list every single thing that Kylo Ren has done to the poor Imperials.

Bonus: Kylux.

I feel like I'm going to pass out. That was fucking amazing.

I need a follow-up with pregnant sex.

"Prove yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish, and someday, you will be a real boy."

R2 and C3PO wake up human, complete with all the overwhelming emotions.

Now THIS is what a kink meme is for.

AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

...I'm not sure where you're seeing that in that photo...

Seconding the prompt.

Yeeessssss

I never knew I need this in my life before.
Thanks for showing me the light :D

Poe x tentacles?
Just sign me up.

Please, I need to see sick with a cold kylo being snotty and whiny and not being able to leave his bed while Hux/Phasma/Rey/anyone takes care of him and feeds him soup.

Can be gen, crack, fluff, angst, w/e I don't care I just need someone taking care of Kylo like the baby he is.

promptshaming.

“Hunting what?” Hux says, gesturing at the empty desert around them. It isn’t a very precise gesture, more of a flailing arm-wave, but it doesn’t have to be. There is a lot of desert around to catch it.

“Good question,” Ren actually sighs.

They stand there glaring at each other for a moment.

“Well, one problem at a time," Hux says. "TR-4022?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Keep searching the debris. Look for another water condenser. Anything else you find in working order, set it aside. I’ll go through it later.” He files away their list of potential escape plans and switches to mentally organizing a list of necessary supplies. They would need water foremost, but also the means to make shelter, to make a fire, and, hopefully, the means to kill any small, tasty-looking desert dwelling creatures that crossed their path.

The Stormtrooper salutes.

What were his assets? That was always step one.

He had one water condenser. Acceptable. Not ideal, but enough to live on.

The ship itself. It may not function, but it was a wealth of parts that could be re-purposed into supplies. Good.

He had Ren. Much as Hux loathed to think of the man as anything resembling an ‘asset’, his old-world sorcerer nonsense could prove useful.

“Have you still got that ridiculous light-sword of yours?” Hux asked Ren, deliberately misnaming his precious weapon just to needle the man.

“It… took some damage in the crash, but I think I can fix it.”

“So that would be ‘no’, then?”

The one time he actually wanted Ren to have the damn thing. Hux’s hand creeps up to press gingerly at the back of his neck while he thinks. The skin there is already starting to feel like it’s on fire. He prods at it, testing the sting.

“It’s the sun,” Ren offers, nodding at Hux’s probing hand.

“I know what it is,” Hux snaps.

It was the reason why he had absolutely hated going planetside, even as a boy. Even the smallest amount of time spent in direct sunlight left him feeling seared, his skin going redder than his hair and burning for days. He hated planets. Hated the noise, the dirt, the sun. As far as Hux was concerned, ‘weather’ was something that should only happen to other people. Give him a clean, organized, efficient, climate-controlled spaceship every time.

He wasn’t suited for this- the thought hits him like one of Phasma’s infamous right-hooks- he wasn’t suited for camping and walking and sleeping outdoors. He was allergic to sunlight for fuck’s sake.

Ren makes an irritated sound in his nose and rolls his eyes, actually rolls his eyes, like an affronted teenager whose parent has just started telling that story about them in the bathtub for the hundredth time. Hux is not entirely proud of the fact that he jumps back –call it survival instincts rather than base cowardice- when the other man reaches up, but it is only to unclasp the heavy black cape that’s still over his shoulders. Then everything goes dark as the cape is flung over Hux’s head.

“Wear it- it’ll keep the sun off you,” Ren grumbles as Hux sputters, fighting his way out from beneath yards of heavy fabric.

The cape is heavy, stiflingly hot, and smells strongly of Kylo Ren- that is, of metal polish, regulation soap, and a dark coppery scent that Hux optimistically classifies as ‘rust’- but with the hood pulled up over his head, he is blissfully shaded from the sun.

They make a fire that night in the looming shadow of the twisted wreckage of their shuttle. Hux and TR-4022 huddle around it, Hux still wrapped up in the cape even though the planet’s one yellow sun has long since gone down. Ren sits some distance away from them, sulking in a convenient puddle of darkness cast by the ship. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he prods at his lightsaber with a laser spanner that TR-4022 had pulled out of the debris. The lightsaber was spread apart across the sand, like an animal being dissected. Every now and again it crackled or sparked as he stabbed at it.

“This is very nearly civilized,” Hux says, after running through several possible options for the best thing to say to at least attempt to boost their collective morale. His tone aims for confident and unruffled, and only barely hits its mark.

“Yes, sir,” TR-4022 agrees. He had pulled off his gloves, the better to warm his hands over the fire, but left the helmet on. It was a fairly common personal tic amongst those who had completed the new program. Their training stressed uniformity nearly from birth. By the time they were grown, they felt naked without it.

He wonders, idly, if Ren felt the same way without his mask.

“So what is it you do on board the ship, TR-4022?” Hux asks, just to break the quiet.

“Sector patrol, sir. Decks twelve and thirteen.” The firelight glows red in the eyepieces of his helmet.

“I rarely hear about problems from those decks. You must do your job well.”

From the shadows, Hux hears a disdainful little snort. He isn’t sure if it’s directed at them or at the vivisected lightsaber. He ignores Ren. There was a reason his training program has shown unprecedented levels of success throughout the galaxy. Leading through fear and intimidation, and messily slaughtering anyone who failed you might work for the Knights of Ren, but Hux knew that you couldn’t hope to control an army that numbered in the millions by threats alone. Sometimes you had to do demeaning, undignified things like actually talk to them.

“Thank you, sir. I try, sir.”

“Are you aiming for patrol leader one day?”

“Well… actually, sir, I’ve been hoping for a transfer.”

“Yes?” Hux prompts, with as much interest as he can muster. He doesn’t particularly care, but his options for conversation at the moment are limited.

TR-4022 hesitates, hanging his head. “Well, I’d like to work… in the kitchens, sir.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. An army needs chefs as well as soldiers.” Hux says.

“You think so, sir?”

“Of course.

“I’ve… well, I have always liked cooking, sir,” TR-4022 says, as though he’s confessing some great shame. “When I was in primary, I used to dream about being the head chef for the officer’s mess hall. Feeding the generals and leaders. ”

“Well, it’s good to have a dream. It gives you focus. Motivation.” The darkness makes another disdainful sound. Hux ignores it. “When I was a boy, mine was to be a fighter pilot.”

The fire crackles.

“No, it wasn’t,” Ren says after a moment, speaking up for the first time in hours. Just when Hux was blissfully beginning to forget the sound of his voice.

“Wasn’t what?” Hux says.

“You wanted to be Emperor.”

Hux feels his jaw clench. “I’ll thank you to stay out of my head, Lord Ren. It’s possible I might have entertained some silly thoughts along those lines when I was very small, but I dismissed them in favor of something much more practical.”

“You would make an excellent Emperor, sir,” TR-4022 says, loyally.

“Thank you. I’m sure you’ll make an exemplary chef. I’ll look into the transfer when we return.”

“Thank you, sir!”

There, Hux thinks, satisfied. Thoughts of his upcoming transfer should serve to keep the Stormtrooper distracted from their tenuous situation, at least for a while. The first step to failure was allowing your troops to succumb to panic. A good leader understands that, Ren.

“Tell him why you wanted to be Emperor,” Ren says, quietly. “It’s really very fascinating."

Whatever parts of Hux that aren’t already red from the sun go faintly pink. His skin crawls a little, the way it always does when he feels Ren slithering around the edges of his mind.

“No? I can tell him,” Ren says. “You wanted to be Emperor so that you could finally make everyone do everything right. You thought that if people would only do things properly, the way you told them, everything would be so much better. No more chaos, no more messy disorder. An entire galaxy-“

“-Thank you, Lord Ren. And what about you, then?” Hux fires back nastily. “Was there anything you dreamed of being when you were young, or has it always been black robes and slaughtering rebels? Did you ever want to be anything other than Snoke's attack dog?”

The lightsaber sparks wildly.

“I see,” Hux breathes. “I’m going to sleep. TR-4022, I suggest you do the same. We’ll start out at first light.”

He dumps the cape on Ren's lap as he sweeps past him into the hollowed-out ship.

“A smuggler,” Ren says so quietly as he passes that Hux is not even sure he really heard him.

Yessss please this

I am all about this

N'AWWWWWWWWW, KYLOOOOOOOOOOO

(now prompted in the correct location)

Enroute to Snoke's, Kylo Ren suffers from...

SPACE.

MADNESS.

Ewok impressions that include setting traps in the hallways for unwary crew. Running around the ship buck naked and cackling like he's a Kowakian monkey-lizard. Pushing ALLLL the shiny, candy-like buttons.

It doesn't matter what caused this illness of Ren's; Hux is the one that has to deal with it. Kylo will only let Hux approach him, and all the other officers and troops aboard the ship happily went "NOT IT!" and proceeded to take surreptitious holos of everything.

Hux is not amused. Hux is also not panicking that Kylo has lost his mind and will never be the same again. Hux is definitely not going to let on to the crew that he cares about Kylo at all, and certainly not that he sometimes cares so deeply it hurts. Because he doesn't. Nope. Not at all.

He just wants Kylo back.

+1000 Oh my god.... I never knew how much I needed this ridiculous AU until now....

Seconded, because I love these two and their dynamic. :)

I head canon'd Kylo as Kat's body type lol, and her boobs have haunted me for like a decade now, objectively I think she'd be different but... yeah I'm weak

Kylo won't take off the mask, Poe guesses his identity (kept secret I guess) anyway.

I...I used to work at a high-end grocery store which I will refer to as Schmole Schmoods, and I kind of want to write this AU now....

"Poe's mushroom-like love-bulbs rhythmically pulsated with pleasure as he enjoyed the spectacle."

OP: I really, really hope you dig this. <3

Warnings: major dubcon of the 'sex pollen' variety, hate sex, unprotected sex, violence, mild angst.

--

He disarms her. She throws a punch. He hunches over with a clipped wheeze and makes a grab for her. His fingers catch in her hair. She hears the leather of his gloves creak as he yanks her head back, and she throws her hands around his throat, drives her knee up into his gut with everything she has. It’s not enough. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he shoves her bodily up against a nearby plinth, hard enough the breath is stolen from her lungs.

“Let go,” she commands.

“You first,” he sneers.

She digs her nails into his neck in response. He grunts and tightens his grip on her, impossibly strong and painful. Something stirs inside of her then. Residual anger, maybe; or something else. She can’t pinpoint it, so she smooths it away.

“I’m unimpressed by your showing, scavenger,” he says. “I thought Skywalker would’ve taught you so much more.”

She grits her teeth. Replies whirl in her mind: taunts over patricide, or the undeserved Jedi-killer moniker of his, but the words catch in her throat. His gaze is intense, almost too much, but that’s not what keeps her silent. There’s -- something...

Her eyes drift from his to the scar bisecting his face, and then, unwillingly, lower, to his parted lips. Heat spikes in her stomach and she sucks in a surprised breath, confused. His hips are pressed against hers, wedging her in place, and, though this isn’t the first time they’ve been in this sort of spot, this is the first time her body is aware of his in such a way. That unknown something from before flares up inside of her then, and she realizes with a sinking feeling that, not for the first time, she might be in over her head.

Is it some remnants of an adrenaline-fueled fight? Theirs was a messy one from the start. They snapped and snarled as they twisted together in a frenzied duel, neither party willing to give ground, from the moment they made contact on this planet. But it was she who flushed him out from the humid jungle and to the temple they now stand, she who pressed so hard for the win. She can’t explain her sudden desire to -- to not win. To submit. But it’s happening.

Her fingers relax. A red bruise is already forming a ring around his pale neck. She doesn’t start to panic until Kylo Ren releases her hair and smooths his fingers across her crown, almost as if he’s apologizing for having held her in place at all.

With an involuntary shudder, she realizes she likes it, his body and hands on her.

She wants him.

“What are you doing to me?” she growls. There are more Force-abilities than her master taught her in her short time on Ahch-To, she knows, but this heat -- a slow simmer deep in her bones … it’s unlike anything she’s heard of, or experienced. She’s supposed to be immune from this type of control, her will as strong as durasteel. Then how?

He frowns, but doesn’t pull away from her, though she feels him straining to do so. “Not every misfortune of yours has been orchestrated by me.”

She shoves her hands against his chest -- that is, she tries to. Instead, she ends up grabbing the folds of his outer garment. “Really? Because I’m not doing this!”

His hand slides down to cup her neck. Her heart skips. For a moment, she imagines him throttling her while she stands, defenseless, clutching at him -- but he merely strokes his thumb across her jugular.

Heat throbs between her legs.

“I’ve heard of instances like these,” he says, though Rey has the feeling his words are more for himself than her. “Force users compelled by the Force itself to… ”

She swallows, knowing exactly what he’s going to say next. It’s impossible for her not to. His body language speaks volumes, and her reactions to them doubly so. Still, she needs to ask: “To what?”

“To copulate,” he grits out.

That’s when she realizes he’s hard against her, and perhaps has been for a while. She starts to tremble. The stone her back is cold, leaching the heat from her skin, but Kylo Ren is an inferno at her front. She flexes her fingers. A voice in the deep, dark part of her consciousness whispers that his words are true -- that it would be easiest to obey the call -- but she clutches at the singular tendril keeping her grounded in place.

“You’re lying,” she says, but her conviction sounds weak even to her own ears. “What you said… it can’t be real… I don’t believe you.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

He kisses her. It’s rough, rougher than any kiss she’s received before, but it lights her aflame all the same. She gasps into it, made dizzy and needy by the simple act; it’s like a floodgate has burst open, every doubt she was grasping for sliding between her fingers like water. She knows what she wants. It’s what she’s always wanted from him.

“Easy, scavenger,” he murmurs against her lips.

She bites down on his lower lip, hard. He moans, a broken breath she knows she wasn’t meant to hear. The sound is what snaps her resolve like a twig.

She scrabbles against him, pulling him down by the hair and ears to kiss him over and over, panting for breath in the scant breaks between each. She hitches her leg over his hip and arches her back, shoulder blades pressing into the plinth behind her for leverage as she grinds against him. His hands are restless, squeezing at her thigh, her hip, her back; dragging her towards him and positioning her body for his own pleasure, too.

A spark strikes up her spine. She’s close -- on the cusp of something great -- but what they’re doing isn’t enough to get her there. Her eyes flutter open. “I -- I need…” She chokes on another moan.

“I know,” he pants, and something shivers at the back of Rey’s mind. Something Kylo Ren said when they first met.

Don’t be afraid. I feel it, too.

They collapse onto the loam below.

Rey lands on her back, her head cradled by his forearm. They exchange a kiss just as urgent as their first before she tucks her knees against his sides and rolls them. The view from the top is divine, she decides. She smiles above him for a triumphant moment, but he changes the game quickly, and pins her on her back once more.

“Gloating doesn’t suit you,” she says, ripping the buckle clear off his belt with the force of her tug. “When this is over --”

“You’ll be glad to walk after I’m done with you.”

She rolls her eyes. “What’s that saying… put your coins where your mouth is?”

He does. After divesting her of her trousers, he buries his face between her legs. He alternates a strong tongue-stroke against her clit and a pulsing suck that has her squeezing her thighs around his ears and shoving a fist against her teeth to stifle her cries. She’s burning up under his clever ministrations, and nearly shatters completely when he slides his finger into her wet cunt. She tightens around him with a moan. He adds another finger.

“Oh stars,” she gasps and nearly bucks him off her -- would have, if not for the arm her threw across her hips to keep her in place.

He hums, and crooks his fingers, methodically massaging a spot inside of her that makes her drop her knees to the side and keen. She feels herself become impossibly wetter. She’s sure she’s dripping down his wrist by now.

He doesn’t let up. She’s trapped between a physical stimulation that is both too intense and not at all. She’s close, but it’s not enough. She wiggles against him, shoves her fingers into his hair and tries to guide him where she wants him the most, but nothing works. She can’t get there. All she’s done is work herself up. She swears at him, at herself, at the entire galaxy, the frustration of an elusive orgasm almost enough to break her into begging.

She drags in a breath. He wants her to beg, she thinks. He must. “Do you want me to ask for you?” she asks, voice wavering. “Because I won’t.”

She drags him up by the hair and swallows his protests with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. She yanks his trousers down, just enough to free his cock, and promptly shoves him onto his back. She climbs on top.

“Taking what you want,” he remarks. “You and I are so alike. Can’t you see that?”

“I’m nothing like you.”

She sinks down on him; hisses at the mild stretch. She gives herself only a moment to adjust when she’s fully seated before rocking up onto her knees. She meant to go slow and torture him in the same way he did her, but she can’t contend with his rolling thrusts and her overwhelming desire to come. She uses his chest for purchase, and undulates her hips, cants them until she’s reintroduced to that spot that had her crying out before. She drops her head and focuses on the heat building up at her spine.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realizes what they’re doing is -- unforgivable. They would not be able to recover from this. Not as everything in the galaxy currently stands. He wants to kill her. She -- she doesn’t know what she wants to do to him, but she knows she doesn’t stand for anything he does. They are not supposed to be rutting together like two animals into the jungle, frenzied and hurried and out of control. But they are.

And she doesn’t care.

He fits his hand between them, as if he knows exactly what she needs, and starts rubbing a circular pattern against her clit.

“Rey,” he says. It sounds like a command.

Her mouth drops open as she comes a breath later, the crest of the wave finally reached. She vaguely recognizes Kylo Ren grabbing her by the hips to drag her up and down on his cock as her cunt flutters around him, but the rest is -- glorious. White spots in her vision as she clenches her eyes shut, a pleasure unlike anything she’s ever felt singing through her veins like stardust.

She falls across his chest when it’s over, completely spent. She feels like a rag wrung through with water. She stares at the black folds of his robe between her fingers, wondering if or when she would feel disgusted with herself for agreeing to this.

And if she is supposed to -- she doesn’t.

She closes her eyes.

Edited 2016-02-10 07:09 (UTC)

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 43 of 220

PROMPT POST #3 - CLOSED

This post is closed to new prompts! Go here

Re: FILL: The Mysterious Man in the Mask (2/?)

Han/Leia - Best of Wives, Best of Women

Hux, Leia - Complaining

Re: FILL: Poe/Rey - Pregnancy Kink 2/2

R2D2/C3PO - Human AU

Re: Kylux + Hux Senior

Re: Crack AU - Everyone is your nationality

Re: Kylux; Femslash

Re: Kylo/any or gen TW ABUSE, SELF INJURY, POSSIBLE NONCON

Re: FILL: Poe/Rey - Pregnancy Kink 2/2

Re: Poe/Finn, Poe/other - consensual tentacles, voyeurism

Kylo/Any - Sick Kylo

Re: Finn's a slave, not a stormtrooper (Finn/Poe)

Fill pt. 3 - Kylo/Hux - Roughing it. Hux is Not Amused

Re: Finn/Poe - Cult of Ren - modern AU

Re: Hux/Kylo, mutual wet dreams turn out to be dreamsex in disguise

Re: Fill pt. 3 - Kylo/Hux - Roughing it. Hux is Not Amused

Kylo+Hux or Kylux Crack: My beloved ice cream bar!

Re: Hux/Kylo AU: The angry married house-flippers edition (No one dies)

Re: R2D2/C3PO - Human AU

Re: Kylux; Femslash

Kylo Ren/Poe, probably dub-con

Re: Kylux, Grocery Store AU

Re: Finn/Poe/Rey; They all have Alien Genitalia, Tender Dirty Talk

FILL: Rey/Kylo Ren, Hatesex