inappropriately timed force bond moments (both nsfw and humor approaches)
dream-sharing
emotional bleed/transference (from rey, involving other parties)
inappropriate force bond voyeurism on rey/poe or rey/finn
mid-conversation force bond interruption
The Rise of Skywalker- Cross-galaxy chase of the Resistance
anything related to ben solo, but especially:
snoke confessionals with family or friends of family
returning to the light
smuggler life style
jedi knight ben
resistance-fighter ben
The Rise of Skywalker- Force Ghost communications w/ Rey
anything related to supreme leader kylo ren, but especially:
fall via coup
resistance fighter reconditioning (gen or nsfw)
force ghost visits from anakin/luke/rey/leia/snoke
defeat by the resistance, and subsequent aftermath
The Rise of Skywalker- Mole Discovery w/ Hux
canto bight:
shady weapons deals
picking up prisoners
recruitment
obligatory dinner party
general casino shenanigans
beach party
basically any reason you can think of to use canto bight as a setting piece
A note on romance: I will ship all of the new trilogy characters with Kylo Ren (except Snoke/Family). But I have no interest in exploring domestic-style takes on them. Thank you for understanding.
[He struggles to relax. Between the hypnotic motion of his own hand stroking his cock and the way Rey slowly pushes the toy to its hilt, there is hardly any room for him to breathe. It hurts, but it hurts in a way that coaxes him to beg for more. His breathes are large and heavy, taken between attempts to relax all of his weight onto his shoulders now shoved onto the mattress, rather than the knees that feel raw from so many years of kneeling.
He feels her hand smooth over him, the way she kisses at his lower back, and that heat in his chest turns to an icy ache. He wants her closer than that, knowing that she will be gone from him again soon, and they will be forced to return to reality.]
Rey.
[He says her name like he's been keeping it a secret, buried deep for moments like this when he is alone and can marvel at the treasure he's found, and can't bare to share because something will remind him that--its all imagined. The bond, the fluid sticking to his fingers, the sensation of pressure in his ass -- all of that was real.
But this fantasy that they would keep finding each other, that she would come back to him and see the right of things...he knew better. This was the only way he could have her, and the only way she could bring herself to entertain his loneliness.
He wants to take the rest of what she's trying to give him, so he once again slows the shuttling of his hand. He's already too close; his shoulders continue to spasm, the warmth in his stomach threatening to spill at any moment.]
[ She unearths her name from him and she realizes it's what she's been waiting for. That strained, sloppy prayer. She seethes out her exhale against his skin, savoring this moment. It will be gone soon, and she will be back to waiting.
Distantly, in the back of her mind, she registers the way his hand slows. It's a full body awareness, the way they trade back and forth when the bond has dilated like this. She doesn't need to look or feel the twitch of muscle in his back helping his arm to move slower. She just knows. ]
Yes. [ She encourages him, suddenly hungry for it. She starts a steady rhythm, settling on pushing it in only as far as he could take it and pumping rather than trying to urge him to take more. ] I want to hear you.
[ That begging, the way he cried and groaned and strained — from the effort of holding himself back, of taking her in. It's a facsimile, this toy. Just like this moment. Of something that could have been, but wasn't. She bites down on tears that try to come early. She strangles it, and her voice is slightly hoarse when she says— ]
[He starts to comply, but he feels the feeling slipping away from memory. The words elude him. Subconsciously, his hand starts to move faster, and he further collapses into the steady rhythm of her hands, the way she digs for--
His breath comes out heavy again. There is a wave that is coming, and he pushes it down again at the same time she pushes in. It causes the inhale to stutter when he takes it, a desperate sound accompanying it.]
No--it--
[The declaration comes out first, a vocalized refusal to let himself be taken by the end, and an attempt to comply to her demand at the same time: Tell me how it feels. He inhales again to try and reset, but she's still driving herself into him with hunger now. It bleeds, and he's too aroused by it to comprehend anything but their pleasure mixing across the bond.
He tries to force himself off his shoulders, to show he still has some control of himself. He fails.]
Oh--Rey--
[He can't do it. He can't answer her. All he can do is say her name, and beg, and breathe for it. His breath comes faster now, and his whole body lurches backward, and then forward into the mattress. There are tears in his eyes from how hard he comes (and with it, a wail of desire), spilling into his hand and the tangle of sheets powerfully. So much of his skin is reddened by the act, and his wheezing comes so deep that his voice begins to crack.
And slowly, his muscles turn to liquid, skin prickling with overstimulation.]
[ This is better, she thinks. This convulsing incoherence. The flush of his pale skin, the choked aborted sounds of his pleasure as he tries to follow her command. If he had been able to get the words out, they wouldn't have been as beautiful as this.
She works him through his climax, slowing her movements until his pleas have cried off and his body slumps with the fatigue of his ending. Then she pulls the toy free and lets it tumble uselessly to the floor. It has no place here anymore, between them.
Only then does Rey crawl up over him and cradle her body against his again, matching the curve of his spine, wrapping around him and burying her face against his shoulder blade. She doesn't say anything more — she just holds him. Her body aches and chafes, seeking friction, but it's a distant thing now; despite it, she is sated. Just breathing him in. ]
[He is totally exhausted and spent, but he feels her weight at his back and -- he wants more. All he can really do is weakly reach behind him to place one large hand on her head. He is laying in a pool of his own fluids, but that isn't why he wants to turn over -- the stickiness on his stomach will wash away with a long shower.
He might be spent, but he can feel through the bond how she resists furthering her own arousal. Whether or not she wants him to know, he can feel how she aches for him, just as he aches for her.
One of them will cave, one day. Really cave, and cross the galaxy to return to the other.
He fights to find the energy to turn himself over so that they would be face to face. His intent is clear -- so long as the bond holds them, he will haunt her the same way she haunts him.]
[ He reaches back for her, and her heart expands in her chest. Some part of her wants to cry for him, but she saves her tears. The fight's not over. This fight, the push and pull between the two of them, isn't over. So she bites down on it and lets the way he cradles her head feed her hope instead.
Slowly, she shifts, picks herself up to help him turn over. His sticky ending will leave a stain on her clothing, but the lubricant already has. It's a foregone conclusion. She wants to see his face. Red and fatigued and close.
As soon as he has turned over, she rests her forehead to his. Their breath synchronizes, and she reaches one hand up to cradle his face. She had spent so much of this seeming a distant figure, a ghost haunting him, yet she can't help but be here with him now the moment the opportunity presents itself. ]
Ben ...
[ She doesn't have anything to follow that with. It's just soft and yearning, a promise. ]
[Her heart aches, he can feel the way that she pushes tears down, but it doesn't halt the transfer of emotion. He does not resist as she does -- but his tears are angrier. He's not necessarily resentful of her (he yearns for her because of her traits that don't belong to him, after all), but resentful of the circumstances that have put them on opposite ends of the war.
They both know that she cannot make good on her promise, not if Kylo Ren succeeds in his task of ending resistance across the galaxy, and installing a proper autocracy with him at its helm. And even still, he rests her cheek in her hand and closes his eyes to keep more tears from coming and falling down his cheeks.
Even after he's committed to his own fall, he can still feel how it all tears him apart straight down the center of his soul.]
There is still room for you. Here.
[It comes just as desperate as how he had howled for her just a few moments ago. He already knows the answer -- but he has to try, and so when she refuses, he can steel himself for what comes next as he'd done many times before.]
[ She says it sadly. Her thumb smears the tears away from his cheek. It's an effort to wipe them away, to soothe him, but the truth is that the tears don't go away. They just rub in. That's the way of these things. ]
You can still come home.
[ Some part of her had hoped they might make it through this without her having to offer it, that he would know why she was here. That he would let it sink in over time that she had come here, offered this to him implicitly again, but—
He won't.
He's still so far away. He's here, in her arms, and still so far away. ]
[And everywhere. But he doesn't say that. He feels the moisture spread across his cheeks, inhaling and slowly exhaling his tension away. Hearing the refusal grounds him.
A swallow slowly sifts his compassion to the bottom of his stomach, away from his reach where it belongs. In a gesture that mirrors her own, he sifts his fingers through his hair. A tender sort of reassurance, something coaxing and equally yearning.]
[ Like this, she realizes the mistake she has made. Opening him to her has also opened her to him. She's vulnerable, and he's crawling in. It will be hard to close the connection again. Harder than the last time, every time. Harder to refuse him, though she knows there is no other possibility. ]
Your home is with me.
[ Surely he feels that like she does. She knows he does. She stays close to him even as she can feel them splitting apart. It's like losing a limb. ]
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no subject
He feels her hand smooth over him, the way she kisses at his lower back, and that heat in his chest turns to an icy ache. He wants her closer than that, knowing that she will be gone from him again soon, and they will be forced to return to reality.]
Rey.
[He says her name like he's been keeping it a secret, buried deep for moments like this when he is alone and can marvel at the treasure he's found, and can't bare to share because something will remind him that--its all imagined. The bond, the fluid sticking to his fingers, the sensation of pressure in his ass -- all of that was real.
But this fantasy that they would keep finding each other, that she would come back to him and see the right of things...he knew better. This was the only way he could have her, and the only way she could bring herself to entertain his loneliness.
He wants to take the rest of what she's trying to give him, so he once again slows the shuttling of his hand. He's already too close; his shoulders continue to spasm, the warmth in his stomach threatening to spill at any moment.]
no subject
Distantly, in the back of her mind, she registers the way his hand slows. It's a full body awareness, the way they trade back and forth when the bond has dilated like this. She doesn't need to look or feel the twitch of muscle in his back helping his arm to move slower. She just knows. ]
Yes. [ She encourages him, suddenly hungry for it. She starts a steady rhythm, settling on pushing it in only as far as he could take it and pumping rather than trying to urge him to take more. ] I want to hear you.
[ That begging, the way he cried and groaned and strained — from the effort of holding himself back, of taking her in. It's a facsimile, this toy. Just like this moment. Of something that could have been, but wasn't. She bites down on tears that try to come early. She strangles it, and her voice is slightly hoarse when she says— ]
Tell me how it feels, Ben.
no subject
[He starts to comply, but he feels the feeling slipping away from memory. The words elude him. Subconsciously, his hand starts to move faster, and he further collapses into the steady rhythm of her hands, the way she digs for--
His breath comes out heavy again. There is a wave that is coming, and he pushes it down again at the same time she pushes in. It causes the inhale to stutter when he takes it, a desperate sound accompanying it.]
No--it--
[The declaration comes out first, a vocalized refusal to let himself be taken by the end, and an attempt to comply to her demand at the same time: Tell me how it feels. He inhales again to try and reset, but she's still driving herself into him with hunger now. It bleeds, and he's too aroused by it to comprehend anything but their pleasure mixing across the bond.
He tries to force himself off his shoulders, to show he still has some control of himself. He fails.]
Oh--Rey--
[He can't do it. He can't answer her. All he can do is say her name, and beg, and breathe for it. His breath comes faster now, and his whole body lurches backward, and then forward into the mattress. There are tears in his eyes from how hard he comes (and with it, a wail of desire), spilling into his hand and the tangle of sheets powerfully. So much of his skin is reddened by the act, and his wheezing comes so deep that his voice begins to crack.
And slowly, his muscles turn to liquid, skin prickling with overstimulation.]
no subject
She works him through his climax, slowing her movements until his pleas have cried off and his body slumps with the fatigue of his ending. Then she pulls the toy free and lets it tumble uselessly to the floor. It has no place here anymore, between them.
Only then does Rey crawl up over him and cradle her body against his again, matching the curve of his spine, wrapping around him and burying her face against his shoulder blade. She doesn't say anything more — she just holds him. Her body aches and chafes, seeking friction, but it's a distant thing now; despite it, she is sated. Just breathing him in. ]
no subject
He might be spent, but he can feel through the bond how she resists furthering her own arousal. Whether or not she wants him to know, he can feel how she aches for him, just as he aches for her.
One of them will cave, one day. Really cave, and cross the galaxy to return to the other.
He fights to find the energy to turn himself over so that they would be face to face. His intent is clear -- so long as the bond holds them, he will haunt her the same way she haunts him.]
no subject
Slowly, she shifts, picks herself up to help him turn over. His sticky ending will leave a stain on her clothing, but the lubricant already has. It's a foregone conclusion. She wants to see his face. Red and fatigued and close.
As soon as he has turned over, she rests her forehead to his. Their breath synchronizes, and she reaches one hand up to cradle his face. She had spent so much of this seeming a distant figure, a ghost haunting him, yet she can't help but be here with him now the moment the opportunity presents itself. ]
Ben ...
[ She doesn't have anything to follow that with. It's just soft and yearning, a promise. ]
no subject
They both know that she cannot make good on her promise, not if Kylo Ren succeeds in his task of ending resistance across the galaxy, and installing a proper autocracy with him at its helm. And even still, he rests her cheek in her hand and closes his eyes to keep more tears from coming and falling down his cheeks.
Even after he's committed to his own fall, he can still feel how it all tears him apart straight down the center of his soul.]
There is still room for you. Here.
[It comes just as desperate as how he had howled for her just a few moments ago. He already knows the answer -- but he has to try, and so when she refuses, he can steel himself for what comes next as he'd done many times before.]
no subject
[ She says it sadly. Her thumb smears the tears away from his cheek. It's an effort to wipe them away, to soothe him, but the truth is that the tears don't go away. They just rub in. That's the way of these things. ]
You can still come home.
[ Some part of her had hoped they might make it through this without her having to offer it, that he would know why she was here. That he would let it sink in over time that she had come here, offered this to him implicitly again, but—
He won't.
He's still so far away. He's here, in her arms, and still so far away. ]
Please, Ben.
no subject
[And everywhere. But he doesn't say that. He feels the moisture spread across his cheeks, inhaling and slowly exhaling his tension away. Hearing the refusal grounds him.
A swallow slowly sifts his compassion to the bottom of his stomach, away from his reach where it belongs. In a gesture that mirrors her own, he sifts his fingers through his hair. A tender sort of reassurance, something coaxing and equally yearning.]
I am home.
no subject
Your home is with me.
[ Surely he feels that like she does. She knows he does. She stays close to him even as she can feel them splitting apart. It's like losing a limb. ]
And being there would kill me.