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.
[When her thrashing starts, he struggles to hold as long as he can, but its an exercise in futility. The bond floods with her, and he goes stiff as all of his muscles lock in place beneath her. The sensation that comes after is unlike anything he could have expected. His eyes widen, but no sound comes from him as she clamps down on his throat. Lack of oxygen is what gets him to reach for her thighs, burying himself as deep as he can before he comes hard inside of her. His hips jerk weakly as the end of it, he finds himself clawing at his throat to try and pull her hand away so that he can breathe.
The jumble of thoughts starts flashing across the bond. He wants more, he wants to hold her, he wants to bury himself in her hair, he—can’t breathe, still.
His face has begun to turn purple. His consciousness flickers at the other end of the bond, a bit of panic cutting through the pleasure.]
[ the panic stabs through loud and clear and she lets up immediately. adrenaline is a hell of a stark wake-up from the endorphin dump that she'd just been on, but she's able to pull herself hastily off of him and press her hands to the side of his head instead of … you know … crushing his windpipe.
ok maybe not trying that one again soon. ]
Ben. [ she utters it again, her head still fuzzy with the neurochemical cocktail of orgasm mixed with panic and fear. ]
[He inhales deeply when she finally lets go of him, turning his face just enough so he doesn’t cough directly into her’s. He is covered in sweat, vaguely dizzy, and tinted red from all of the activity — spent. Its easy, pleasant even, to let her hands hold his head still. As oxygen worms its way back into his lungs, he finds himself reaching up weakly to wind his arm around her’s. The attempt fails with what little cognative coordination he has left, and he instead lets it drape over her back.
His throat is too raw to speak, but there is an acknowledgement on the other side of their link. Its ok. He’d even enjoyed it, despite the fact that she’d almost knocked him out in her carelessness. And despite the fact that she keeps using that name.]
[ 'look at' here seems to cover the impression she picks up on through the force, at least. she doesn't have better terminology. she's not sure it will ever exist. ]
I hurt you.
[ and there's regret thick in her voice as she says it. he should not be accepting that so easily. whether he'd enjoyed it or not (ok she's feeling Good about the fact that he enjoyed it, but it doesn't absolve her of the dread that she'd taken it Too Far by a little).
it's not quite as easy as, 'i won't do it again,' since she didn't mean to do it this time. and it's not as if she weren't aware of him—she was, the whole time. but in a moment of pure ecstasy, she'd lost control. and that, well, could happen again. ]
[His voice is hoarse when he finally comes out with a reply, his hand blindly groping for her’s to pull her knuckles toward his mouth, resting his cheek against the opposite hand. The press of his lips is brief, and joined by teeth shortly after. Ok, yes, she had hurt him — but the damage was hardly lasting, and he’d have asked her to do it again the next time.
If he remembered. If there was a next time.]
I would have felt it, if you had.
[Intention to harm was important. She had not held his throat to kill him, just to exercise control. He might have done the same thing, in her situation.]
[ the scrape of his teeth causes her spine to prickle. she lets her eyes drift shut then, put at some kind of ease. she's not sure she agrees yet, but there's something in it that he seems to not only accept, but want. she gazes down at him in silence for a moment before she pulls her hands back and gets comfortable at his side, reaching one hand up again then to continue stroking the side of his face in soothing apology.
they're … a mess. the desk is a mess. their clothes are a mess. this is never going to come out in the dry cleaning and the rug keeping the desk from scratching the cold marble floor will probably need to be replaced. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The jumble of thoughts starts flashing across the bond. He wants more, he wants to hold her, he wants to bury himself in her hair, he—can’t breathe, still.
His face has begun to turn purple. His consciousness flickers at the other end of the bond, a bit of panic cutting through the pleasure.]
no subject
ok maybe not trying that one again soon. ]
Ben. [ she utters it again, her head still fuzzy with the neurochemical cocktail of orgasm mixed with panic and fear. ]
no subject
His throat is too raw to speak, but there is an acknowledgement on the other side of their link. Its ok. He’d even enjoyed it, despite the fact that she’d almost knocked him out in her carelessness. And despite the fact that she keeps using that name.]
no subject
[ 'look at' here seems to cover the impression she picks up on through the force, at least. she doesn't have better terminology. she's not sure it will ever exist. ]
I hurt you.
[ and there's regret thick in her voice as she says it. he should not be accepting that so easily. whether he'd enjoyed it or not (ok she's feeling Good about the fact that he enjoyed it, but it doesn't absolve her of the dread that she'd taken it Too Far by a little).
it's not quite as easy as, 'i won't do it again,' since she didn't mean to do it this time. and it's not as if she weren't aware of him—she was, the whole time. but in a moment of pure ecstasy, she'd lost control. and that, well, could happen again. ]
no subject
[His voice is hoarse when he finally comes out with a reply, his hand blindly groping for her’s to pull her knuckles toward his mouth, resting his cheek against the opposite hand. The press of his lips is brief, and joined by teeth shortly after. Ok, yes, she had hurt him — but the damage was hardly lasting, and he’d have asked her to do it again the next time.
If he remembered. If there was a next time.]
I would have felt it, if you had.
[Intention to harm was important. She had not held his throat to kill him, just to exercise control. He might have done the same thing, in her situation.]
no subject
they're … a mess. the desk is a mess. their clothes are a mess. this is never going to come out in the dry cleaning and the rug keeping the desk from scratching the cold marble floor will probably need to be replaced. ]