space trash

a place to hoard my reylo smut. always accepting prompts.

[lavellanpls]

69 NSFW Prompts

A collection of nsfw prompts compiled from here, here, and here, in handy alphabetical order, for all your smut-fic needs. Mix & match ‘em or pick a favorite, and send with a pairing. **Feel free to reblog!

Under the cut~

Keep reading

[amorgalacticus]

reylo + Daddy... because I'm apparently into this kink now...

this is just… porn

Rey’s head is pressed into the pillow, Ben’s hips slapping quickly and obscenely and hard into her ass, when she gasps, in a dark haze of pleasure, “Fuck, Daddy.”

It shocks them both.

From behind her, from Ben, a sudden silence. The relentless pace of his hips slows to a stop, and his grip loosens slightly on her skin. “No,” he says, almost laughing in disbelief. “No, no, no.”

Rey turns her head, angles her eyes up toward his. Her chest is heaving down into the bed. “Do you… do you not like it?” she whispers.


“Oh, no,” he answers, fingers tightening on her hips. “I like it a little too much.”

A thrill runs up her spine, down to her core. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do,” he says, mapping the dips and planes of her back with his hand, pressing harder against her shoulder blades. But he’s eerily, frustratingly still, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of her.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she hisses.


“I think you know.” 

She wriggles her ass against his hips, moans at how sweetly her cunt stretches to fit him. “Fuck me, Daddy.”

He groans, rocking into her a few times — but slowly, gently, almost lazily.

“Harder, Daddy.”

Now he picks up the pace, but only just. Rey whines in frustration, reaches up to rub at her clit. But he catches her hand in his, drawing it sharply away from her leaking, aching center. “No, no, no,” he chides, tossing her arm back onto the pillow. “No touching. You don’t want to make me tie you up, do you?”

Oh, he does like it. Rey shivers, thinks maybe she does want him to tie her up. Another time, perhaps.

“I only tie up bad girls,” he murmurs. “But you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she sighs. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl.”

“Only Daddy gets to make you come.”

“Yes, only you.” She cries out when he thrusts into her again, harder this time. Her whole body is shaking with pleasure, and when she speaks, she hardly recognizes her own voice: “Fuck, Daddy, you feel so good.”

“You do too,” he hisses. “My good little girl — so tight. So wet for me.”

“Touch me, Daddy,” she whines, reaching behind her for his hand. He collapses forward, bracing himself on one arm and looping the other under her belly to palm roughly at her breasts. “Please, Daddy, touch my clit—make me come, I need—”

“So needy,” he whispers into her ear. “I’ll have to punish you for that later.”


“Please,” she begs.

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy.”

When his fingers find her clit she moans with abandon, grinding furiously against his hand while his hips chase hers. “Are you gonna come for me?” he hisses, matching the pace of his hips with the pace of his fingers. “Are you gonna come on my cock?”

“Yes,” she moans. “Yes, Daddy, fuck—”

When her orgasm hits, it splinters through her so sharply and so hotly that for a moment she sees nothing but a sear of white, and her body slumps bonelessly, almost lifelessly, against the bed.

Details of her surroundings come back to her only slowly. Ben — lovable, slightly awkward Ben Solo — is one such detail; he climbs over her now, brushing the sweaty wisps of hair out of her face. Rey is almost embarrassed to look at him. 

“What just happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, half-covering her face with her hand. Why are her cheeks so hot all of the sudden? 

“But I… I think I liked it?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, ducking to kiss her neck, then her lips. “I think I did too.”

[amorgalacticus]

I'm a trash for your smut

we are all trash together

[amorgalacticus]

reylo + “Are you crying?” + snow & ice

The sky is streaked lavender and blue, something like cotton candy, when Rey rounds the last bend of the trail that leads from the main piste to the cabin-spotted wood on the far side of the mountain. Ben is far ahead, his black-clad figure a tiny speck in the snow-drifted scene before her. 

Her legs are aching by the time she finally skis to a stop outside the cabin, kicking her skis off in the golden lamplight that spills from the windows. “Great day,” Ben says cheerily, shaking out still-silky waves of black hair from underneath his helmet. “Great conditions. I hadn’t expected that much powder from two hours of morning snowfall.”

“Yeah,” Rey mumbles as she slings her skis over her shoulder and follows him inside.

Ben, still light-footed and chipper, heads immediately for the kitchen, where he rifles through the cabinets in search of dinner fixings. “What do you want to eat?” he calls over his shoulder as Rey collapses into the deep leather chair by the fireplace. “We have chicken, pasta — I could make pesto, or a vodka sauce, maybe, with the last of the Grey Goose, unless you want to drink it yourself, of course — or we could always order pizza from town.”

When she gives no answer, he stills, turns slowly to sweep his eyes across the living room behind him. “Rey?” 

She draws her hand up to her nose, sniffles into her knuckles. 

“Are you crying?”

“It’s just…” She groans, drags her feet up so that the soles of her boots are planted heavily on the ground. “My legs.”

“Here,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees before her, “let me help you.”

She lifts a hand to wave him off, starts to protest, “I can do—” But his fingers are already unfastening the cumbersome buckles, and so she slumps back into the chair, relenting.

Ben tugs off each boot with a huff, gently massaging her feet. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, rearing up to lean forward across her lap, hands braced against the back of the chair. He kisses her gently. “I know you’re just getting the hang of it. Today was… long.”

Rey arches an eyebrow. “You think?”

“You’re sore?”

“Very.”

“Let me help.”

He drops his hands to her waist, unbuttons her pants and tugs down the zipper.

Rey narrows her eyes. “What are you doing?” she mumbles as he starts shimmying them down her legs. 

“You said you were sore,” he answers. By now her ski pants lie in a crumpled heap off to the side, and his hands have returned to her waist, his thumbs dipping under the waistband of her long johns. 

“We’re not having sex,” she says sternly. “What part of ‘sore’ don’t you understand?”

“Trust me.”

Now he shirks off her long underwear, leaving her legs pale and bare beneath his roaming hands. Rey watches half-warily as he starts massaging her calves, relaxes into the chair as his hands set a slow, firm pace against the sore muscle. “Oh,” she says quietly, a little breathily. “Okay.”

“I told you,” he murmurs, smiling slyly. 

When he lifts her leg so that her ankle rests on his shoulder, and his thumbs work at the taut belly of her calf, Rey actually lets out something embarrassingly close to a moan. “God, Ben,” she whispers. “That feels good.”

He hikes up the other leg for the same treatment. “I know.” 

A few minutes later, Rey is slumped bonelessly into the chair, the soreness in her calves already soothed by the tender, methodical ministrations of Ben’s thumbs. He turns his face toward one leg to kiss it, murmurs into her skin, “How are your quads?”

“I think,” she breathes, “they probably need some help too.”

Ben smirks. “That can be arranged.” 

He drags her closer so that her knees are hooked over his shoulders, and the twin points of his jawbone skim the tops of her thighs. “Hard day today,” he murmurs, rolling the heels of his palms into the tender flesh of her thighs. “We’ll take it easy tomorrow. Sleep in, stay in bed, yeah?”

Rey whimpers softly as his fingers ghost across the soft skin of her inner thighs. “Uh-huh.”

“Good,” he says lowly, his ministrations growing firmer, almost more insistent, against the sore muscle. 

She’s getting wet. The way he’s touching her — his large, warm hands pressing and rolling against her skin, finding each and every spot that makes her body heat with pleasure — is driving her insane, and she can feel her flimsy panties growing alarmingly damp. 

And it isn’t long before he notices. “You’re so wet already,” he breathes, touching her through the thin cotton layer of her underwear. “All for me.”

“Don’t get — too proud of yourself,” she gasps out. 

“Hmm… what about this?” he says, nudging the underwear aside and trailing two fingers up and down her folds. A devilish smile breaks over his face. “Is this sore?”
 Her hips buck slightly at his touch, and she rubs herself, almost involuntarily, against the warm, thick length of his fingers. 

“Oh G-God,” she hiccups. “Don’t say it.”

He can’t resist. “It will be. After tonight.”

“I hate y—oooh, Ben,” she sighs, her voice softening in the space of seconds as his long, dexterous fingers slip inside of her. As he pumps her lazily with two fingers, now three, gently stroking her clit with his thumb, she slumps still more weakly into the wide seat of the chair, chants his name in soft little moans. 

“I’m sorry again,” he whispers, his head dipping closer to where his fingers are working. “For making you ski such a long day.” He kisses the insides of her thighs. “It wasn’t very nice of me.” He withdraws his fingers, but keeps rubbing her clit in slow, lazy circles. “Let me make it up to you.”He licks a long, slow stripe up through her folds, humming into her when she keens. Of all the things he does to her, this she loves best of all. His tongue is gentle but insistent, his plush, swollen lips tender as they replace his fingers at her clit. When they purse around the tiny little bud and suck, Rey gasps his name to the ceiling, fisting her hand in his hair and holding him tight against her. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, alternating between sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit. Soon his fingers slip inside of her again, resuming their gentle rhythm while his tongue and lips work at her clit. 

Rey arches her back off the chair, bucking her hips up into his mouth. “Ben,” she gasps, fingers flexing against the crown of his head. “I want—you—”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he murmurs, looking up at her with hooded eyes as his tongue flicks her clit. 

“Tongue,” is all she can answer, praying he understands.

He does. His lips cede her clit to his fingers, and his tongue licks down to thrust inside of her. The sounds he makes are obscene but somehow reverent as her hips rock into his mouth, into his tongue, into the groans that rumble from deep in his throat and resound through both their bodies. 

“Ben, I’m going to—”

“Come, sweetheart,” he murmurs, withdrawing his tongue for a moment to lap at her wetness, kiss her clit. “Come for me.”

When he returns to his work, there’s a new urgency to it, and his fingers grind down roughly against her clit as his tongue thrusts recklessly into her, matching the frenzied bucking of her hips. He licks her through her orgasm, eyes closed and cheeks flushed as he hums into her fluttering cunt.

Once she comes down from her orgasm, he slides her fully off the couch and onto his lap. His lips and chin are slick with her, and something like pride tugs at her heart. She traces the line of his jaw with her finger, leans forward and kisses him, tasting the two of them mixed together on his tongue.

“Now then,” he murmurs when she’s drawn back, and her eyes are roving hungrily across his face. “Now that I’ve already eaten, what are you going to have for dinner?”

Rey rolls her eyes, almost snaps at him again. But some playful spark lights in her belly, and she pushes him down onto his back. Her words come out sounding something like a growl. “I have an idea.”

[amorgalacticus]

Reylo + “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.” & “I can’t stop thinking about you”

I started writing this last week but then got sidetracked into writing a much softer version for my other blog – here is the version true to my, ahem, original intentions.

Rey bursts without ceremony into his office, cheeks flushed and books spilling out of her arms, the words tumbling uncontrolled from her lips: “I can’t stop thinking—”

—about you.

“About your final paper?” Ben says abruptly, standing from his desk and clearing his throat. “Good. I imagine that means you’ve come up with a compelling thesis.” Rey’s eyes fall to the student seated across from him: Poe Dameron, football player, heart as wide as the Iowa cornfields that raised him. And one of the last people she’d hoped — or expected, frankly — to find at Professor Solo’s office hours.

Now her eyes flit back to Ben’s, and he levels her with a hard, unblinking stare. “Mr. Dameron and I are almost finished. Perhaps you could wait outside?”

Rey readjusts her grip on the books, swallows, backs out of the doorway. She takes a seat outside his door, cheeks flushing, and takes several deep breaths to calm her thundering heart. By the time Poe leaves the office, wishing her a cheery good morning, she’s rubbing her thighs together in anticipation.

“Lock the door,” Ben says the moment she crosses the threshold. 

God. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you, either,” he murmurs, once she’s done as he’d asked and advanced further into the room. Had it been that easy, she wonders, to read her mind? To see through her girlish blushes and fluttering eyelashes to the storm of feeling that hums in her chest?

His eyes flash tellingly, and she thinks it must be easy for both of them. “Come here.”

When she draws close to his desk, he tilts his head, lips tugging up in a mischievous smirk. “I see you wore a dress,” he says appreciatively, before his brow furrows slightly. “In 40-degree weather?” He toys with the hem. “That’s not very practical, Miss Niima.”

“Well, silly me,” she answers. “I thought you might like it.”

“I love it. And actually,” he says, dropping his voice, “I think a dress is very practical. Albeit for… reasons apart from the weather.” Now he lifts the hem, draws her closer with two large hands wrapped around the backs of her thighs. When he kisses her through her underwear, she whimpers softly.

“Hmm,” he hums into the thatch of her curls. When he draws back, looks up at her with hooded, lust-darkened eyes, his voice has dropped to a low whisper. “You came here so I could get you off, didn’t you?”

“No,” she lies, a little breathily.

He drags her underwear to the side, trails a testing finger through her wetness. “I don’t believe you.” 

Rey looks down at him, almost gasps at the dark, hungering storm that gathers in his eyes. “Please,” she whispers, her hips twitching ever so slightly into his hand. 

“The only way you’re getting off,” he says, pulling her down sharply so that she’s straddling his leg, “is on my thigh.”

Rey looks down, blinks. “On your… thigh?” Almost in questioning, she gives her hips an experimental rock, sighs when the friction of his wool pants against her clit sends stray tendrils of pleasure curling up her spine.

“There you go,” he whispers, awed, watching her.

Their eyes meet, and her clit catches just so on his pants, and all she can think is yes. 

Now she braces her hands against his shoulders, heels flush against the floor, and sets to rolling her hips more deliberately. She hates him for this — he’ll pay for it, later — but she’s too turned on right now, too flushed and hot with pleasure, to stop. Desperate, she reaches between her legs, fingers fumbling blindly for her clit, but he snatches her hand away and tucks it behind her back.

“No touching.”

Rey groans, leans her head forward against his shoulder. 

“If you can still manage it,” he hisses in her ear, “I’ll fuck you on the desk.”

“Ben,” she gasps, and rocks harder against his leg. 

She’s moaning by the time she feels his pants soak with her wetness and the first shades of her orgasm pass through her core. When the full force of it hits her, she chokes out a low sob and collapses against his chest, still-parted lips pressed lazily against his neck. Ben’s fingers trail appreciatively up and down her spine. 

“I think that went well,” he says quietly, almost matter-of-factly.

Rey just groans into his neck.

When he stands, scooping her into his arms, and lays her flat on her back on the desk, she blinks up at him with widened eyes. “What the hell are you doing now?” she gasps.

He starts unbuckling his belt, flashes her a grin. “I’m a man of my word, Miss Niima.”

“Oh?” she says softly, smiling, kicking off her useless, now soaked-through underwear. “Prove it, then.”

[darthprettyeyes]

Corellian Blood Stripes

Rating: Mature

Tags: cunnilingus, oral sex, period sex, bloody like the battle of crait, blood

Summary: Rey’s seen Ben Solo bloodied before, but not quite like this.

Notes: as per usual, this was inspired by some chat in the discord and it spiraled into this. Many thanks to @haraldskaer for the “Battle of Crait” line, that’s all her <3

[read on ao3]

–

Rey’s seen Ben Solo bloodied before.

The first time was on a broken planet, shattered by machinery and the power of a sun it never should have contained. She gave him those wounds, battered and bloodied his face on the snow and he looked at her like some would stare at a god.

The second time was many months later, when the war wasn’t quite over and they managed to fight side by side again. Their blades flashed in time as they fought their way across and it was only when the tide turned did Rey have the chance to look at him. That pointed determination was in his eyes, hardened with the resolution to see this mission through. But even with the lightsabers, the fight wasn’t clean.

He stood over the corpses, blood smeared across his chin and his shoulders stiff and shaking until she came to him and took his hand and led him away.

She’s seen Ben bloody before.

This was different. This wasn’t battle. Or perhaps it was, but of a different kind. Two contestants walked in and two winners walked out, their wills coming together for the pleasure of the other. Rey wasn’t exactly sure what word to put to what she had with Ben Solo. Surely it was love, but at the same time it was more. It was more than trust, more than intimacy. It was a knowing that formed in battle and tempered in peace and boiled down to the truth that Rey couldn’t deny: that Ben was there and where she’d go, he’d follow. They were a matched pair and they fell together. But this wasn’t a place they’d gone before.

“I’m…” she starts to say as he kneels between her legs.

“What?”

Keep reading

[amorgalacticus]

so today I was sitting out on the lawn in the sun at my university typing away on my computer, and a tour group passed, probably thinking that this charming image they were seeing was straight out of a brochure, and that I was hard at work on an essay on dickens or tolstoy or something.

nope. I was writing reylo smut!

[yodah]

Lets have her get a sexy cut and ben gets all worried for her via force bond, andhepullshershirtdown, yeah okay good

[amorgalacticus]

I LOVE your reylo mirror & body worshipping piece. So well written and beautiful! I can’t wait to read more of your writing :)

thank you so much!! I really was blown away by the response to it!! and dw there’s definitely more where that came from, so stay tuned ;)

[amorgalacticus]

reylo + mirrors & body worship

this got long! dropping the nsfw under the cut.

They take to showering together.

Rey likes it when he makes love to her in the ‘fresher, likes the feel of the cold tile against her back and the warmth of his chest pressed against her front — or the other way around. But best of all she likes the steam, the thick, opaque embrace of it that hides the various uglinesses of her body from his sight. He shouldn’t see the poke of her ribs through her chest, the meager swells of her breasts, the scars that riddle her arms and legs.

One day, after they’ve stepped out of the steaming ‘fresher after an uneventful shower and wrapped themselves in towels, Ben starts immediately for the bedroom, tugging Rey behind him. Something in his boyish, earnest eagerness makes her laugh, and she follows after him with a rare smile.

Until, that is, he pauses before the mirror to study their reflection. Evidently he likes what he sees, because he tugs her hard and fast against his chest, dipping his head to mouth at the slick skin at the base of her throat. His hooded eyes meet hers in the mirror. 

“Ben, no,” she murmurs, cheeks heating. “Not… not here.”

He pauses, lifts his head. “Why not?”

“I… it’s…” But she can’t quite bring herself to speak the words aloud. To give voice to the insecurity that gnaws at her heart. I’m skinny, and scarred, and I’m not as supple and beautiful and womanly as the other girls, and I know it, and I’m sorry—

Ben’s throat bobs. “No,” he almost growls, and Rey turns stone-still in his arms. How is it that even now, even one year into knowing him as intimately as anyone ever could, she still forgets that he knows her, too — that he can read her mind as easily as she can read his? 

Before she can stop him, he’s untied her towel, baring her pale, freckled, scarred, and ugly body to both their sights.

“Ben—”

“I want you to see,” he murmurs, his breath hot on her neck, in her ear. “I want you to see how beautiful you are.”

“Stop,” she whispers, close to tears, crossing her arms over her pink-flushed chest. “I’m not.”

But he raises his arms to draw hers down, and his voice is softer, gentler, velvet and rich, when he whispers, “Trust me.”

As his lips settle gently against the slope of her neck, his hands come to rest on her waist, kneading the taut muscle there gently. “I love this neck,” he murmurs into her skin. “How elegant it is. Graceful.” His mouth finds the pulsing bulge of the artery that runs up the shadow of her jawline. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, feeling the nervous roar of her blood against his lips. “I feel it, too.”

They both shudder.

Now he drags his hands up her sides, cupping her breasts in his generous palms, thumbing her nipples. Rey closes her eyes, suddenly embarrassed, ashamed of how easily the slight swells are lost beneath his hands.    

“Open your eyes,” comes his voice at her ear. 

He pinches a nipple, and her eyes fly open to find a red-cheeked woman in the mirror; a broad-shouldered, black-haired man curved around her, his large, warm hands kneading her breasts. 

“I love these breasts,” he whispers, rolling each nipple more softly between a thumb and an index finger. Soon he’s back to pinching, smoothing each sharp flare of pain with a gentle brush of his thumbs. “I love these nipples.” Rey remembers, in a fast-fogging haze of pleasure, that he’s always found it a funny word; she smiles when he nips at her earlobe, breathes a short little laugh into her ear. “I love how they respond to me. Perk up for me.” Another pinch now. “Only me, hmm?”

“Yes,” she sighs, without thinking.   

While one reverent hand remains at her breasts, the other moves to her neck, turning her chin up and around, angling her parted lips into his kiss. “I love this mouth,” Ben murmurs, sweeping his tongue across their seam and groaning when she yields to him. “I wanted to kiss it before I even knew who I was.”

And when he sucks her tongue between his lips and pinches hard at her nipple, she keens so loudly that she feels the vibration in her throat.  

“Ben—”

He releases her from the kiss, tilts her chin again toward the mirror. “Do you see?” His hands drop to her hips. “Do you see that pretty little flush across your chest? Force, Rey, you have no idea...” 

Now he hooks one hand under her thigh, drawing it up so sharply that she’s forced to rest her heel on the counter. At the sight of the dark thatch of curls between her thighs and the slick pink flesh beneath, she curls her lip in distaste and turns away. But Ben is insistent. “No,” he whispers, nudging her head back with his. “Look.”

He draws her folds open with two fingers, stroking them up and down with a third. “I love this best of all,” he whispers, voice thick. Now at last he dips one thick finger inside of her, and Rey squeezes her eyes shut, moans softly into the humid air. 

“I love this cunt,” he hisses. There’s a bite to his voice — the hard T cuts sharply in her ear — but somehow it’s still tender. At the words she slumps a little against his chest, reaches down to hold his hand in place. He never talks like this, and the novelty of the words sends a hot spark of pleasure flaring through her core. 

“I love how tight it is,” he mutters now, pumping two fingers lazily in and out of her, his thumb finding her clit. “How wet. How hot, when it’s clenching around my fingers.”

Rey moans, tensing her walls appreciatively.

Now one of his hands falls from her breast to where his towel is tied around his waist. “Or my cock,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a promise. It is, she thinks, because moments later she feels him drag his head through her fast-dampening folds. 

“Ben,” she whimpers. “I want—”

“Tell me,” he says.

Through the Force she conveys to him an image of what she wants: her body bent over the counter, his hips rocking into hers.

“Tell me,” he repeats, a little roughly. “Out loud.”

“I want you,” she whispers. “I want you to”—the head of his cock brushes against her clit, and she gasps—“to fuck me, Ben, Force.”

They are never this vocal with each other. They don’t have to be—not when they have the Force between them, as efficient a vehicle of desire and emotion as any—but to speak the words aloud, to give voice to the want that roils in the pit of her belly, sends another flare of pleasure to her center. Her thighs are slick; she rubs them together in vain.

“I will,” he murmurs against her ear. “I will, sweetheart, but you have to look at yourself. I need you to see, to understand. Will you do that for me?”

As Rey opens her eyes, fixes them on the flushed woman in the mirror, Ben’s hand settles between her shoulder blades, pushing her down slightly. Her heart hammers against her breastbone as he pushes himself inside of her, and they both groan, Rey bracing herself on her elbows.

“I do,” Ben whispers reverently. “I do love this cunt.”

As he begins to move, Rey’s soft little whimpers of pleasure turn to moans, and soon he’s fucking her vigorously, the slap of skin against skin loud and obscene in the still-steaming ‘fresher. 

Rey can’t take her eyes off of the woman in the mirror. There’s something intoxicating in the soft, pinkish flush that fans from her cheeks to her chest; her moist lips parted on low, sobbing moans; her breasts shuddering with each rock of the broad-shouldered man’s hips. And the man—Rey’s eyes drift to him, too, in spite of herself. But his are entirely fixated on the woman, his pupils blown wide with lust. 

“You,” he chokes out, his breaths coming more quickly now. “It’s—fuck—it’s you, Rey. Beautiful.” He punctuates the word with a particularly savage thrust, and she feels her arms go limp, struggling to hold herself up. “Perfect.” Another thrust, and she gasps obscenely, collapsing onto the counter. “Mine.”

Her walls hug his cock as he comes, and she can’t help but smile as he leans forward to kiss her spine and groan appreciatively into her sweat-shining skin. 

When he stands straight again, he draws her up with him, his softening cock still buried inside of her. He has to adjust his stance slightly, and she sees where he disappears inside her folds. It draws a quiet little whimper from her throat.

“You want to come, don’t you?” he whispers gently. His index finger drifts to her clit, rubs it in slow, lazy circles.

“Yes.”

“Then watch. See what I see when I make you come.” Now his fingers set a furious pace against her clit, and she wants to close her eyes, to toss her head back into his shoulder. But she can’t. Instead she watches as the woman in the mirror — as she, Rey — draws in quick little breaths, close to orgasm, whining louder and louder as she draws closer and closer to the brink of that starry abyss— 

One last flick of her clit, and the galaxy shatters. “Ben!”

“Rey,” he murmurs, locking both arms around her as she comes down from her orgasm. “Rey.” His nose nuzzles into her damp, frizzing hair. “My beautiful girl.”

And for once, finally, she believes it. 

[amorgalacticus]

just realized I hadn’t adjusted my settings to allow for asks!! I am stupid. but this error has now been corrected (and anon is on). prompt away!

[noxdolcis-blog]

Fic starters

Fluff/ Angst/ Smut. Send in one, or combine them (for instance: 1+a+ 🏶 ) and a fandom!

Fluff:

1. “This feels like home”

2. “I hope you’ll stay the night”

3. “You’re here!”

4. “You look so beautiful tonight”

5. “You got this for me?”

6. “I can’t stop thinking about you”

7. “I wanteed to surprise you”

8. “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while”

9. “I never want to leave here”

10. “I can see a future with you”

11. “You look even more beautiful than I remember”

12. “I feel like you really see me”

13. “I’m so happy I found you”

14. “I’ve never told/ shown this to anyone else”

15. “You make me feel safe”

Angst:

a. “You weren’t there”

b. “I can’t watch you die

c. “Are you crying?”

d. “This can’t be happening!”

e. “It wasn’t meant to be this way”

f. “We’ll regret this”

g. “You’re not who I thought you were”

h. “This might be my last chance to say it”

i. “We knew it would be dangerous

j. “Please don’t leave me”

k. “I never thought I’d see you in chains before me”

l. “I will rescue you!”

m. “I will never forget you”

n. “We don’t have much time left”

Smut:

❖ “Just for tonight”

⬥ “We can’t! We’re in public!”

⌘ “Use your teeth”

🏶 “Put this on”

🙠 “I can’t be there right now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun”

◎ “I think ropes would look lovely on you”

★ “Touch yourself”

✹ “Let me see you”

✵ “People will hear”

⌖ “Who says I’m wearing any?”

✪ “I want to undress you”

🙪 “I didn’t think you’d be so responsive”

⮛ “What is that for?”

🡩 “I want to be with you”

🗶 “I’m willing to try anything once”

✔ “Oh, I didn’t see you there!”

[0stentatia]

NSFW PROMPT LIST #1

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

“You make a sound and it’s game over.”

“No touching.”

“Does that feel good?”

“Let’s take this outside.”

“We’ll have to make it quick.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Choke me.”

“Are you just gonna stare?”

“Please, please let me come.”

“If you want it, beg for it.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Come sit on my lap.”

“God, you look good.”

“I could really use a fuck right now.”

“We can take a quick shower.”

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

“Are you sure you want to do this in the car?”

“Don’t come until I tell you to.”

“Where are your manners?”

“Louder.”

“I bet you want me pretty bad right now, huh?”

“Are we really gonna do this in public?”

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day.”

“You’ve got too many clothes on.”

“Have you been good?”

“I want you so badly.”

“I can’t wait any longer.”

“Someone’s gonna hear you.”