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PROMPT POST #4

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prompt post one
prompt post two
prompt post three

+ 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

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Thanks, OP. :) Stepping away from it for a couple of days and reading your comment just now were both truly helpful. I've always known I can't write death scenes, and now I definitely know I can't write things like this either. Lesson learned. :P

Han manages to come across (probably in a cantina somewhere) a heavily pregnant Kylo (Trans!Kylo, Omega!verse or just plain Mpreg is good) then he proceeds to lose his shit.

He loses it even more when he finds out Hux is the dad.

Oh man, yes!

Finn discovers he loves being on the giving end of a biting kink several parsecs wide. It's not something Poe ever tried before, or particularly thinks he might be into, but he's open to try for Finn. Does it work for them both? Is Poe actually not at all into it/does it turn out it's on his 'absolutely not' list? Do they end up compromising? What ground rules do they set for eachother?

Seconded!

done!
on ao3 http://archiveofourown.org/works/6176270
on tumblr http://and-then-bam-cassiopeia.tumblr.com/post/140561431184/ten-steps-to-a-fall

OP

FFFFFFFFFFFF YESSSSSSS This is exactly what I wanted! Thank you so much Anon!

Oh wow, I thought I was prepared for Dark Leia, but I WAS NOT prepared for Dark Leia -- or even the gradient of Leia's on the way to Dark Leia. I'm all fucked up in the best way.

General Hux, powerful 1980s career woman.

Rey agrees to become Kylo's apprentice and join the Order of Ren. Little did she know about the Knights' way to greet newcomers. Which is, of course, a wild orgy.
May be dubcon, but pls no noncon. Rey is reluctant at first, but soon gets into it.
+ if Kylo doesn't join, but instead watches his Knights pleasuring Rey in every way.
+++ if some of the Knights are female.

"He hoped he didn’t look too scary."

:3 if that isn't the cutest damn thing ...and the polar opposite of Kylo Ren. Good job, Hux. He can't enjoy his revenge against Snoke but maybe Hux's "reward" is simply being able to meet Ben and not be hated (like it was every time with Ren, how he assured past Ben that the hatred was inevitable and fixed) and that has a lovely fairy tale quality to it.

I don’t really care what he’s doing exactly, just that Hux allows himself a Major Indulgence, gets off on it, and as soon as the orgasm winds down is instantly ashamed and regretful.

Optional Kylo stuck giving clumsy comfort.

Snoke fucks Hux with his fist while giving him orders. Any level of consent works for me.

Hi OP, I hope you don't mind mpreg. because this bastard wrote itself.

also, would it surprise anyone that I was the filler of that prompt where Hux died and Kylo just padme's? Hah. yeah my life choices.
***

There are very few times that he’s ever derailed. Hux is a man of plans after all. He’s always made sure he’s in control.

But man, oh man, does he fall so hard. Does everything fall so apart around him.

The first one had been when his mother had died, he was seven and there was no compassion left anywhere for him. But he learned, he scrubbed himself of any desire for love, affection and compassion. He steeled himself and learned to take control of his life, that had been a good learning experience.

The next one was Kylo. Stupid. Emotional Kylo. Hux didn’t expect to fall for him. To feel for him. For Kylo to make him forget all of his dreams. But Kylo had been steady and strong, albeing being unpredictable and emotionally weak. Kylo is loyal and devoted. And when Kylo looked his way, he never strayed. Hux fell apart, but he gained something stronger around him.

He didn’t mind the disgrace of their Star Destroyer’s fall. It’s another step to their goal together after all, one more facade falling before they gather enough strength to face their greatest adversary. Kylo had been broke, tethering between the light and dark, his mind, his whole being, raped and abused by their unfair mast as he fights for his control. He found him sobbing on the bridge, muttering that he’s unable to kill him. For the longest of time Hux had been puzzled.

They moved on though, stood up and decided it’s no longer time to dally. It had been a hard battle, but the mad-man that was their master had finally been destroyed. It had caused some of Hux’ limbs and several weeks of Kylo’s sanity. But they did it.

Hux had been emperor. He’s been way too happy to work himself to the ground, make his foundations until Kylo woke up. He handed the empire to him afterall. It’s time for Hux to show off, what he can do with a couple of his plans.

Kylo had been happy when came to. It’s the most unburdened he’s ever seen him and he’s glad. They did it together.

The blocks of their empire had been a battle to build, but nothing a few work days and plans to rectify. Emperor Hux slowly gained the most of the resistance favor, because sure, he’d been unorthodox, but he’s nothing but reasonable. He truly did want order, unlike their mad master who wanted to rule everything. And his broken knight gained strength, weaker than before but more unbroken than he’s ever been for a while.

Hux is glad, when a little life grew on his broken knight. It’s something that’s his and Kylo’s afterall. Something to hope and Hux found joy in him as his stomach grew. A fondness in him that he never knew, something unfamiliar but clearly welcomed.

They say, the mightier you are, the harder you fall.

His crash was painful and agonizing. From the moment he went to his quarters painted in blood to the moment he saw Han Solo clutching a bundle of a fuzzy red hair, kneeling over his pale, pale son; Hux’ knight, holding a blaster, shooting the people he once called friends.

He had sent his own guards to an escape pod for Solo towards an unknown region, he’d take care of the child. He has to. It’s probably the second chance he longed for so long. He gathered Kylo on his arms, kissing his forehead, tasking unwelcomed copper on his lips. After that, it had been easy, pressing a button hidden on his prosthetics.

His ship had been latched into the base, and it’s filled with enough explosives to cause the whole thing to crumble. Thinking about it, as the flames crawl towards them, maybe he had been anticipating his mistake, after all, pressing that button meant triggering hidden explosives all over his empire and all major systems of their allies.

Because the mighty may fall, but he’ll take them with him.

well, mission accomplished then. glad you like :)

The man screamed when he woke, a howl in the darkness that woke Rey from her sleep like a stab in the heart.

She threw back the covers of her bed, reaching for the knife she’d kept under her pillow, heart hammering in her chest. This was what she’d feared when she’d gone to sleep with the stranger in her home. And though she did not doubt she could hold her own against a wounded man, it was pitch black, save for the dying embers in the hearth, and she could neither hear him nor make out his form.

“Are you all right?” Her voice sounded too loud in the silence, and the only reply was a low groan. Dagger firm in her hand, Rey stepped forward, sock-clad feet on the cold plank floor as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

There—a huddled form on the ground. He’d thrown back the blankets, crouched down on his haunches like some kind of feral creature. And the noise he made, it was like all of the parts of his throat and lungs and mouth had somehow forgotten what it meant to work in concert. A broken bellows in a disused forge. Despite herself Rey felt her hand tremble. The man seemed to be flexing his arms, writhing, noises of frustration and rage wrenched out of him, until—

“What did you do to me?”

His growl was inhuman, and it chilled her far more than the storm. But she did not lower her guard. “I saved you, brought you in from the forest. You were hurt, unconscious, you—“

“Liar!” The wind seemed to echo his words, rattling the windows as it beat up against the cabin. “What have you done?”

“I’ve done nothing!” Rey replied. “What possible motive would I have to harm you, and then bring you into my home?”

The man turned his head upwards, and Rey has the distinct feeling that he was watching her. As if he could see her much more clearly in the darkness, see straight through the shift and drawers and sweater she’s put on for the cold night. He stilled his body, save for one of his hands, which Rey can see is trailing up and down his arms slowly, fingers curled into claws.

“You would’ve died.” Rey said. “If I’d left you where I found you, the storm would’ve taken you.”

“And you knew about the storm?” The man seemed almost… bemused by this, his mercurial mood shifting as quick as the wind.

“Course I didn’t know.” Rey scoffed. “You think I’d have gone out to hunt if I had known about it? You can go ahead and go back out there, if you want to leave! Go on!”

“Hm.” The man grunted faintly, a low growl of resignation, or annoyance, deep in his throat.

And then, the man shivered. He seemed to relent, and fell back against the discarded blankets, gathering them up around himself like a confused bird trying to put his feathers back on. “I’m hungry,” He grunts, as if this is supposed to be a command, not a request.

Rey nods towards the hearth. “Stew’s in the pot.”

The man looks up at her—she can see the dark glint of his eyes now, and she lets the dagger fall back to her side. But does not sheathe it.

“It’s in the pot, there.” Rey knows, now, he can see her; she points at the hearth behind him, and the man, after a moment, turns. “I’m not serving you.”

It might be her imagination—or the wind—but it sounds like he huffs in annoyance as he turns away from her, lifting the lid on the little cast-iron pot and collecting the spoon atop it before it can roll off into the embers. He scrapes the stew up, tests it with a little bite, and then makes another dissatisfied noise. This makes Rey want to grind her teeth together in frustration; what a rude creature, to turn up his nose at a meal freely offered, a bed, warmth by the fire. He looks back up at her, but must be able to see this in her face, for he says nothing at all. Just works down, bite after bite, of the whole of the rest of the stew, scraping the spoon around the edges, gathering it all up.

And then he looks up at her again. “I’m cold.”

“Then put a log on the fire.” Rey has to grit her teeth to keep from yelling this at him. She watches, incredulous, as the man searches for a log, placing it directly onto the embers—which instantly suffocate, and then die out.

“You have got to be kidding me…” Rey strides over to the hearth and crouches down beside him, too angry to be wary now. “Have you never built a fire for yourself? What are you, some little princeling, lost in the woods?”

He doesn’t answer this. Just watches her as she works, brushing out the now-dead ashes, arranging the kindling, stacking the logs just so, reaching for the flint and steel that hang from a little peg set into the stone face of the hearth. He seems especially entranced by the sparks she can make with it, and Rey, casting a sidelong glance at his curious expression, decides that he’s either pretending, or truly had been hit in the head harder than she thought. She hangs the flint back up, takes a little shim of wood and fans in at an angle; a moment later the fire jumps from the tinder, radiating warmth and heat, and the smoke begins curling lazily up the chimney.

She turned back to look at him. His eyes, beetle-black, glitter in the firelight, flames dancing in their reflection. Rey felt a shiver of discomfort pass through her; had he been this close to her when she’d sat down? The blankets are pooled around his hips, but otherwise he is bare, bare and unselfconscious. She resolutely did not let her gaze travel further down than his waist, and when she brought it up to meet his eyes once more she finds herself wishing for her dagger.

He looked hungry. Predatory.

He tilted his head, watching her. “What kind of a woman lets a strange man into her home, and expects no harm to befall her?”

Rey licked her lips, and bit them, before answering: “The kind of woman who drugged your stew.”

The man blinked in confusion. His question had been more teasing than anything, but now, his brow furrowed as he looked over one shoulder at the little three-legged stew pot, then back at Rey. “What?”

The word slurred in his mouth, like syrup stuck to his teeth. He touched his face with one large hand, expression shifting slowly between confusion and rage and… fear? And then, without preamble, he slumped forward, a puppet with the strings cut, directly into her lap. Rey made a noise of surprise, but he’s out cold. She pushed him back down to the floor, laid him on his side and covered him back up with the blankets. Rey had no qualms using some of her herbs on him, and the only real question had been in estimating the proper dose—and at any rate, an injured man needed rest. She wasn’t stupid; she knew what could happen to a woman in her situation.

Rey prodded at the fire with the poker, watching it dance for a minute, and the man on the floor slipped into soft snores. After a time, and making a mental note to scrub the pot very well the next morning, Rey got to her feet.

When she slipped back into her own bed, the sheets were once again cold. Rey burrowed in, laying on her side, watching the man’s shoulder rise and fall, rise and fall. Watching the fire die down.

Even with him drugged, even with her dagger beside her, sleep was a long time coming.

I forgot to give warnings for non-con and forced pregnancy

After Leia and Rey meet and hit it off, I would like to see Leia styling Rey's hair into the two cinnamon buns above her ears. Her old hairdo.

+1 I'm still crylaughing about "Call me rebel scum".

I need this in my life *_*

I'm going to be that trashy anon: Domhnall and Adam discussing or reacting to Kylux fic/art/tropes. Preferably by sexing each other up. But if you want to keep it more realistic: lulz are just as fine.

YES!

Here at ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6178342

Hope op likes it. :)

The Knights of Ren rarely traveled together. They were solitary figures who when they met up were swiftly seen on the battlefield, carnage all around them. They were coarse and rough and hard. This was known fact.

So that they were so quiet and gentle when they appeared on the Finalizer was cause for some alarm. “General,” one had said, voice oddly soft behind their helmet. “Thank you for letting us aboard your ship. And I am sorry. Would you come with me?”

Hux straightened his back, refusing to look weak before anyone. Going with this Knight probably meant going to the execution he had been waiting for since Starkiller. Turning to his officers, it seemed they all had the same idea. No words were exchanged, but a short salute was. And that was all. There was no room for remorse, not in the face of the Supreme Leader’s judgment.

Following the Knight, Hux readied himself. He had left his mark on the Galaxy. Across the massive spread of stars that moment of destruction he had unleashed upon the Hosnian would be visible for the next two hundred years. The Outer Rim would see it last, great grandchildren looking through telescopes would see what Hux had done. No one else could claim that sort of rolling visibility. (Luke Skywalker could, much as he hated to say it. The explosions of both Death Stars were still visible from most of the Galaxy, that moment of destruction in the night skies for all to see.) He had to be content with that.

Stepping onto the shuttle the Knights had come on, he didn’t expect to see five of them standing there with their helmets off. Eyes darting from one to the next, horrified by how young they all were (he had thought Kylo to be oddly young, but now he saw all the Knights were that age or even younger), he missed when the one who had escorted him removed her helmet. She was a pretty woman, it probably helped her with undercover missions. But her eyes were filled with sadness. “You’re going to want to prepare yourself, General,” she said.

“What for? I’m willing to accept my death,” said Hux. But the look on her face grew even more sad at that.

“We aren’t your executioners,” said another Knight, this one a young man. He gestured for Hux to follow him, and further into the shuttle they went.

It was designed to be able to travel for the same length of time as a freighter, but with more speed. It was sleek and smooth and promised to be quite comfortable, but Hux couldn’t recognize that, too uncertain about what he had agreed to, coming aboard like this. The Knights weren’t his executioners, alright fine, but that didn’t mean that someone wasn’t going to kill him. But he’d face it as he faced most other things, with pride and strength.

The Knight who led him stopped to open a door with his handprint, pausing to remove his glove to show a scar on the back of his hand. Without their helmets or weapons, Hux had no idea who was who, and didn’t dare insult them by assuming they were someone they weren’t. And perhaps that was by design.

But when the door was opened those thoughts were shocked out of him by how cold the room before him was. And when he looked in, he saw why.

There was a bier in the center of the room, and on it lay a body. Were the Knights presenting him dead things? Millicent did that enough when he was actually planetside where there were actually things for her to kill, he didn’t need that from the Knights of Ren too. “We’ll wait outside, General,” said the Knight who had let him in. His cue to enter.

Stepping inside, the door closed behind him, trapping him in the cold room. Hux approached the body slowly, unsure what had been brought for his inspection. Unless the Knights had suddenly grown to appreciate all life and were heartbroken over bringing him the body of FN-2187, Hux wasn’t sure this was worth his time.

The thoughts stopped, suddenly. Mind wiped clean by seeing pale skin and dark hair too long for regulation. Eyes he knew to be as dark as the void of space shut on either side of a too-large nose. Full lips closed. A face bisected by an uneven wound. This wasn’t FN-2187. This wasn’t anyone he ever wanted to have presented to him.

“No,” he breathed, only vaguely aware of what he was saying. “No. No, no, no, no you can’t…you…” But as he suddenly rushed to the body, for a moment sure that this was some sort of cruel joke, here was that lightsaber that had destroyed so much of his ship, folded under hands resting on the stomach. “No! You can’t be dead! No!”

Pitiful denials, they did nothing. But Hux was beyond caring about what was appropriate, what was noble, or what was pitiful. All he cared about was that this cold room held the body of his once-lover. Screaming at the body that he hadn’t given permission for Kylo to die, that was all he was capable of at the moment. Screaming his grief, screaming his pain, shaking the body as if he could just make Kylo wake up from death, that was all he could do.

This was a man who had still been upright for far too long a time after being struck by a Wookie Bowcaster, this was a man who had fought while so heavily injured and managed to get a solid half mile away from the Oscillator where he had been so heavily injured. This was a man who was upright again just a few days later to fly to Snoke. This man wasn’t like other humans, he wasn’t subject to rules like the rest were. How could death keep him down?

Somewhere, in the midst of pain, he found himself clinging to Kylo’s shoulders, weeping with undignified wails muffled in the knight’s chest. But no arms held him, no dear deep voice murmured assurances. This was no cruel joke, Kylo was dead. The proof was under his hand where no pulse fluttered.

A hand touched his shoulder and Hux jolted away, trying in vain to pull himself together. But it was that young woman who had collected him, who had apologized on the bridge when Hux had been so sure it was his execution she was sorry about. “General,” she said, and he saw tears on her face. “We loved him too. Not the same, I know that, but we loved him too. That’s why we brought him here. We have each other, you don’t. You deserved to see him, and we all came so you wouldn’t be so totally alone.”

The others were with her, deep grief on their faces. Kylo had been their master, and apparently their friend as well if such grief was true. Not all were in tears, but Hux didn’t feel quite so childish for his with the others mourning clear as he was. “I loved him. I loved him so much,” he admitted. He hadn’t said such a declaration before, not even to Kylo. That hadn’t been how they were to each other. That hadn’t been who they were.

But how couldn’t he say it when he still clung to the man’s corpse?

The Knight (he really should learn their names, he thought distantly, hidden beneath the fog of grief) drew him into her arms. Another joined them, until seven bodies were tangled together in sorrow and their minds worse. At the base of Kylo’s bier they all knelt together, not one of them wanting to be alone.

It was a long moment before one of them said, “We were going to take him to cremation, General.”

“Not yet,” said Hux suddenly. He didn’t know why this was so important, it just was. Kylo’s body couldn’t be taken. “Not yet.”

“Alright. But we can only keep mourning so long.”

“Hush,” admonished another Knight. “Kylo was just as much to the General as he was to us. We’ve had time to mourn, he hasn’t. He’s due that just as much as we are. General, you tell us when you can get away. He wanted to be cremated on Endor, like his grandfather.”

Of course, Hux thought. Of course he did. The idea managed to bring a sort of laugh from him, too twisted up in a sob to be heard for what it was.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Six Knights of Ren stayed in the General’s quarters. No one questioned it out loud, but when the General came back looked shattered, they assumed that had something to do with it. No one got an answer though. At least three times a day Hux went to the shuttle the Knights had come on, sometimes accompanied by the knights, sometimes not, and came back in worse shape than he went in.

His people worried for him. But no one bothered him about it. Not when he was in near constant company of the Knights of Ren. As far as they knew, it was business with the Supreme Leader, how were they to know that each evening Hux let himself be drawn into the tangle the Knights arranged themselves in and wept when they showed him in his mind Kylo’s last days.

Snoke hadn’t cared about those awful injuries on Starkiller. Kylo had been worked to death, sepsis in the wounds bringing him down. It was so awful because it was such a stupid, preventable death. Kylo shouldn’t be dead. If Snoke had thought to wait and let him heal instead of pressing him through pain, Kylo would have returned to him strong as ever.

Hux had loved Kylo, but they had known their master better than he ever did, and seeing the man’s professed fondness for wookie foods and commenting of how refreshing it was not to have to pick hairs out of it, it made him laugh and cry in equal measure. Kylo had always looked ill when he ate the bland cuisine those of the Order had grown up with. A childhood without spices next to one eating the too-hot wookie foods and building up such an immunity to capsaicin, Kylo would have laughed to serve those favorite foods to him, to watch Hux choke on flavor.

That image, he realized was a memory, from another Knight who had been born to the Order, one who had that same reaction, and Hux wept that those who had known Kylo infinitely better than himself were willing to share such memories. Hux was selfish, he wouldn’t have ever shared such moments of a hand up after being knocked down in training, moments of understanding when the nightmares got too bad, moments of guarding his back in battle.

He could and did pull himself in time for his shifts, but there was such an air of fragility about him that were he any further out of his grief he would have snapped that people were treating him as a breakable object for no reason.

But even planets broke.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Hux was due for shore leave and the agreement was that he and the Knights would cremate Kylo on Endor then. And when the day came that they were due to leave, the Knights couldn’t find Hux anywhere, and eventually assumed he’d be on the shuttle already, spending the last moments he could in that cold room keeping Kylo from rotting, spending time with what was left of his lover.

And when the door was opened at least one of them cried out to see what was before them. Hux lay peacefully with Kylo, holding the Knight in his arms with all tenderness. But not a soul in that cold room breathed. A syringe lay nearby and a neat little puncture in the crook of Hux’s elbow gave a hint of what had happened.

This time it was high standing officers who were invited to that cold room to mourn their dead General. No one dared disturb the lovers from their embrace. Yet not one came to see the two cremated together. The First Order was of ice, not of fire, it seemed.

Hux had apparently spend his last hours with treasonous intent, for when the pyre was ready General Organa appeared, Resistance at her back, wailing to see her dead son. The Knights she acknowledged only as her son’s friends, and embraced them all, speaking of her intimate knowledge of loss and that sweet understanding driving so many of them to tears in return. She set the pyre, as mother, and with a Knight of Ren weeping into her shoulder swore that she’d kill the one who killed her son.

And now she had six Knights on her side.

One of the boys penetrate Rey vaginally, the other one anally, and then they compete to make her come. The fic should be 100% about Finn and Poe being super-loving to their awesome girlfriend and making her feel amazing.

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Page 99 of 235

PROMPT POST #4

This post is closed to new prompts!

Re: mini fill -- Bitter Fantasy -- Kylo/Hux (TW: past & present non-con, abuse)

Kylux - Mpreg + Han

Re: Kylo/Hux: Laid Kylo = Laid-back Kylo

Finn/Poe, biting, kink exploration/negotiation

Re: Finn/Poe, biting, kink exploration/negotiation

[Fill] ten steps to a fall

Re: Filled: Kylo/Hux - Emperor Hux - Sex on the throne

Re: [Fill] ten steps to a fall

Re: Politics speaking

Knights of Ren/Rey, gangbang

Re: GEN or Hux/Kylo, Hux can travel back in time [epilogue]

Hux alone or Kylux; an indulgence

Hux / Snoke, fisting

Fill

Re: [Fill] ten steps to a fall

Re: FILL 2/? - The Wyrm of the Woods

Re: FinnPoe, KyloPoe - Poe is captured and used to breed more stormtroopers

Leia, Rey-Hairstyling, Bonding

Re: kylo/hux, shit kylo says in bed

Re: Hux/Kylo Ren - Jealousy

Domhnall & Adam: in Kylux hell

Re: Gen, Rey+Force Ghosts

Fill: sink your teeth in

[fill] The Crow is Black (You Know My Love)

Jedistormpilot, anal and vaginal sex