swkm_mod ([personal profile] swkm_mod) wrote in [community profile] starwarskinkmeme2016-01-10 10:04 pm

Star Wars Kink Meme Round #1

Rules For Everyone:
  1. YKINMKATO (Your kink is not my kink, and that's okay.) No kinkshaming or wank/flames/y'know generally being a dick.
  2. All Star Wars films and related media are welcome. You can go as obscure as you want. 
  3. RPF is allowed
  4. All comments must be anon.  Lbr, if it doesn't bother you guys it doesn't bother me.
Rules For Posting Prompts
  1. Use the subject for your prompt with the pair, general idea, any kinks, or specific requirements.
  2. You can post as many prompts as you like, as long as the prompts are different. They can be somewhat similar. 
  3. You may second a post, but you may not piggyback and request different specifications from the original prompt.  However, you may create a similar prompt inspired with your own specifications.
  4. Cross posting prompts is fine by me. If you've posted prompts at tfa-kink, and they've gotten lost in the mix, you can post them here!
  5. You are not allowed to create prompts for the purpose of mocking a previous prompt. I see you. Just don't.
Rules Posting Fills:
  1. Warnings are courteous, but not necessary. Use DW Blocker if there is anything you don't want to see.
  2. Art and other media fills are welcome.
  3. Multiple fills are cool. Therefore, a prompt is considered filled, but still "open."
  4. You may post a link to your tumblr/ao3 account/ or any other website as long as it is accessible.
  5. You may link to a previously written fic in a comment, but it does not count as a fill. 
  6. If you could post [FILL] in the subject of your fill, that would be awesome. Sorry I forgot about this.
Spin-off Community: StarWarsFruitBowl
Announcement: I have long neglected my modly duties, because I have been both way busier than I thought I would be (the shock of young adulthood amirite?), and y'know just me being a mess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . If anyone is inclined to help me mod, or at least categorize prompts on pinboard, please message swkm-mod @ tumblr. If you don't have a tumblr, still message me but on anon, and we will find another way to communicate.

Also, I have received a request for a prompt freeze. I'm thinking that might be a good idea, but I would like to get your opinion. Let me know what you think here.

Luke/Leia/Han - incest

(Anonymous) 2015-12-21 02:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Dirtybadwrong inadvertent incest threesome porn, but specifically: Luke/Han/Leia just post-A New Hope, celebration after their victory on Yavin. Bonus points for Han and Leia double-teaming Luke. Double points for Luke not being as virginal as they assume.

Bloodrush - 1a/3

(Anonymous) 2015-12-26 03:51 am (UTC)(link)
She has to step outside for a moment. She should be in there, enjoying the party – it's been so long since they had something to celebrate, and her fellow rebels are making the most of it. Not that she isn't. She's as joyful, as relieved as any of them – but she's more than that. She remembers Alderaan. There's no time to grieve, there never is, so it settles into an ache in her bones. She'll get used to it. She knows that, while they may have destroyed their superweapon, that's not where the Empire was, not really. The Empire is in a million different places, and a million different minds, where no-one thinks the risk of fighting is worth it. The war continues. Tomorrow she will be as exhausted and overworked and stretched to the point of breaking as she was the day before, and will be the day after. She doesn't resent it. It's necessary. She's just tired.

It's been a long day. She should probably go to bed.

Luckily, her spell of self-pity is interrupted by the whirr and slide of doors – Luke and Han come walking out, arm in arm, laughing merrily. They've both clearly had a bit to drink, though unsurprisingly Han carries it better. She's not sure they even have alcohol on Tatooine. What could they grow that ferments?

“Princess,” Han says, with a mock bow – Luke almost falls over – and she's not sure if it's happiness, exhaustion, or the amount she's had to drink that makes her laugh at that instead of reach for her blaster. She has maybe been taking herself a little seriously lately. But can you blame her?

“War hero,” she calls him, and he cringes. “Don't you deny it. I gave you the medal.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he mutters, staring at the ground. She smirks. She's embarrassed him.

Luke frowns softly. “Leia,” he says, finally unlocking arms with Han (where were they going, anyway?). He seems much more sober when walking on his own. She doesn't understand why, until he starts to unclip the medallion from his chest.

“You deserve this,” he mutters as he pins it to her instead. Her first instinct is to bat it away, to downplay, to tell him she just did her job. But she knows he knows – about how scared she was when Vader took her prisoner, about how they tortured her, Alderaan. At first she's ashamed of herself, that her devotion to the cause is so weak that she needs trinkets to reinforce it, but he tells her that's absurd. He doesn't say a word. But he comforts her, hand poised precariously over her breast, because he knows how hard this is for her, he knows how much she has to feel, and he can feel some of it for her.

He looks in her eyes and all of a sudden she's afraid.

Why? Afraid of Luke? She's never met a boy more innocent, more virtuous in the whole galaxy. What could she possibly be afraid of?

“Geez,” Han interrupts, thankfully, “Why didn't I get that?”

“You already have a medal, Han,” Luke says, not taking his eyes off Leia.

Han swaggers over, and Leia breaks Luke's gaze to look up at him. “Yeah, maybe, but no-one got all goey-eyed over me.”

She rolls her eyes, forgetting to be embarrassed, and then fixes Han in her sight – all batted eyelashes and breathlessness. She must be drunk. “Is that what you want, Captain Solo?”

Luke's eyes are on Han too, and how does she know that?

Han's brow furrows as he leans in. He must know it's too good to be true, she's teasing him, but he seems intrigued anyway. “Maybe, Princess.”

She lets it linger there a moment before breaking into a grin. “Well by all means, go back to the party,” she says. “I saw at least a dozen women going all gooey-eyed there.”

Luke laughs, but Han hardly seems humiliated. It is, after all, a compliment. “You know what, I might just do that,” he says, finally extracting himself from her personal space – which only makes it clear just how close she and Luke still are, she can feel his breath on her cheek. “Try not to hurt something you two, eye-fucking that hard.”

Now she's embarrassed, lowering her gaze chastely to the floor. That fear is back, and what the hell is she so afraid of? Han walks away chuckling to himself, and it infuriates her – she feels like she's lost this round.

Luke's eyes are still on her when he calls out, “Han, come back here.”

She raises her eyes as Han turns around, curious. “Why? Am I needed for something?”

“You might be.”

Luke's glance is soft, his smile half-formed. Leia can't see his face – but she feels heat, not like a sudden stab, but something soft and surrounding, like stepping into a warm bath.

Han seems bemused, but walks back to them, re-enters the arena, willing to play the game. “I like ya, kid, but I'm not sure you know what you're getting into.”

Luke shrugs. “Probably not, but when has that ever stopped me?”

Han looks over his shoulder, sharing a glance with Leia. She smirks, feeling Luke's pride as her own (why?). “No wonder you two get on so well,” he mutters, before grabbing Luke by the shoulder.

She doesn't quite follow what happens next, but there's spinning and she has to move out of the way and all of a sudden Luke is against the wall, Han looming over him. She expects Luke to start, to panic, to realise he's in over his head and start apologising and backtracking. So does Han, she suspects. But while Luke gasps when his body thuds into the corridor, Leia realises he's not going to run away – in fact he feels quite content, and she feels very hot, like her nice warm bath has turned into a boiling pot. From the sweat on his brow, she'd say Luke feels that too, which is remarkable for someone from a desert planet.

Han still doesn't touch, still gives Luke that as an out, and worry still colours his gaze. Leia gravitates to their side so she can watch them in profile, see their heavy breaths in rhythm; one, then the other. Luke's blue eyes are bright and expectant, waiting for Han to move.

Han doesn't move, but he does look. It's subtle at first, and then the complete opposite; his eyes trail down first to Luke's neck, flushed pink, then across his chest, trailing down his ribs, along his arms until it almost tickles, to the tips of his toes and fingers. Luke, for his part, presses his head back against and leans into his appraisal. Leia can't help but follow Han's gaze, but she feels slightly more comfortable with it now, as if she needs Han to assure her lusting after Luke is acceptable (but why would it ever be unacceptable?). Han's eyes though, are so greedy, so intimate, so lewd – they grab shamelessly at Luke's crotch – it's hard to imagine he's not just groping every part of Luke he can reach. Leia wonders why he doesn't, if Luke seems so disinclined to stop him.

Leia wipes the sweat from her brow, and she realises Han, as much fun as he's having just looking, can't bear not being looked at for too long. “Hey, up here kid,” he says cupping Luke's jaw, and Luke opens his eyes again. What? his eyes say. Han spreads his fingers, finally starting to claim Luke's body for his own, and lets his thumb trail across Luke's lower lip. It's a test.

Luke lets his mouth fall open slightly, and Han tests the breach, pushing his thumb ever so slightly between parted lips – and Luke presses his lips around it before Han pullls back. All three of them know exactly what that implies, but Luke just smiles, still not backing down, and Han seems as bemused as ever.

“I don't think your plan to call my bluff is working, Han,” says Luke, stretching against the wall – there's hardly much skin to be seen and yet, his body is clearly on display.

“Really,” mutters Han, eyes still roaming.

Luke smirks. “You know, there isn't much to do on Tatooine.”

Han ponders this a second. “Leia, do me a favour?”

She's shaken out of her heat-soaked reverie. Honestly, she thought they had forgotten her. “What is it?” She's still hesitant for reasons she can't quite discern, but really, why shouldn't she join in the fun? They've won, at least for tonight. Everything she's been through is finally worth something, and that's worth celebrating – and Han and Luke seem remarkably willing to help her with that.

“Can't figure out whether this kid's bluffing. Think you can help me out here?” He's still just looking, and Luke isn't going to make a move first. As per usual, it's up to her to actually do something.

God, she wants to touch Luke. “I'm not sure,” she murmurs, fingers pulled like a magnet to his neck. She runs her fingers through prickling sweat, feels his pulse drumming so each beat fade into the next, less a rhythm than a trembling blur. He may not be the terrified virgin she and Han imagined, but he's still nervous. Her heartbeat matches his as she moves closer, breath ghosting over his neck and she can practically taste him – he shudders, or was that her?

“What do you say, Luke?” she asks him, because being direct is the one thing they haven't tried yet. “Do you want to go to bed with us?”

Han catches her eye. “Us?”

He's smirking, and she represses the urge to roll her eyes. Tease. “I assume if you asked for my help, I am invited?”

“Well sure, but I wasn't sure you'd say yes.”

There's no way he thought bedding her would be this easy. She shrugs. “Well I'm not here for you,” she says, unsure how true it is – that implies she's here for Luke, and why does that bother her so much? Why does that seem like the truest part of that statement? She takes Luke's face by the jaw, tilts it toward her. “But I was told I was owed a reward, right Luke?”

Her lips are poised an inch from his, and he wants to kiss her. But he won't. That's a relief.

She looks at Han over Luke's shoulder, and he shrugs. “Well, that's settled then.”

“Not quite,” says Luke. “I haven't actually said yes, guys.”

That catches Han off guard. “Oh,” he says, Luke is still looking at her, not him, and Leia can tell Han's worried – but trying desperately not to show it. It's like his whole rhythm's been thrown off. “...So how about it, kid?”

Luke laughs, and turns round to face Han again. There's a quiet moment between them, and finally, Luke calls Han's bluff, grabbing him by his hair and smashing their faces together.

It's hardly perfect. Luke's aim was off a little, he has to readjust so their lips actually meet where they should. Han's taken aback, and almost staggers out of it before he gets a grip on himself. Luke has to crane his neck up painfully because Han is too damn tall. And yet, as Leia watches, it's good enough. Luke's still awkward, but Han clearly has enough experience deflowering virgins (which Luke isn't, she knows, but he still seems like one somehow) that once he gets into the swing of things it all seems very easy. He takes control of Luke's mouth effortlessly, pressing him harder up against the wall, hand claiming the back of his neck possessively, so his hand folds over Leia's fingertips.

There's no good spot for her, right now, but she drapes herself over Luke's shoulder and works her other hand to the back of Han's neck (Han is finally leaning down a bit, which is good for both her and Luke). She wants to touch. If they were paying attention, they'd see her lips parted and how badly she wants to be kissed – Wait your turn, says Luke, which is impossible but she's far too distracted. She digs her nails into Han's neck, into Luke's collarbone, and she wants so badly to be a part of it, to claim and be claimed as eagerly as they're doing right now, but that dread in her stomach still hasn't abated and she can't tell why.

The buzz and whirr of doors. All three of them jump apart, and the sweat on Leia's fingers turns ice cold in a second.

It's two soldiers whose names she cannot possibly remember – which means she ought to practice; she makes it a point of pride to know all her platoon's names – who look amused at the scene they've discovered. None of them bother trying to deny what they were up to, not even Luke, but Leia fixes them with her haughtiest gaze and they move on without a word. Really, it's not like she should be ashamed of herself. They'll hardly be the only ones 'celebrating' tonight.

Luke lets out a shaky breathy, maybe a little overwhelmed, and she moves her hand down to take his in her grasp. His pulse surges through her again, and the pit in her stomach deepens, as does the ache further down. She turns to Han. “You didn't think this might not be the location, did you?”

He shrugs. “Hey, I didn't started. Besides, I've had worse.” She can't help but curious, and he smirks in a way that says I'll tell you later – if you're good. She really does hate him sometimes.

His attention soon goes back to Luke, still catching his breath, gripping Leia for dear life and lips stained a violent pink. She sighs. “Han, I agree his mouth is lovely, but we can probably appreciate it better somewhere else. Come on, I'll show you to my quarters.”

Luke blushes a little, but follows hand in hand as she leads him away, Han tailing behind. She feels Han whispering in Luke's ear. “Thanks kid, didn't know you'd make getting an invitation to her bedroom that easy.”

Luke laughs and she does too, even if she thinks she should be insulted. That worry is still with her. But she ignores it, for now, instead focusing on how the rush of Luke's blood somehow bursts out of his veins and up into hers.

(Anonymous) 2015-12-26 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
bah it's almost 2500 words and they haven't even made it to bed yet. Okay I'm posting this in parts so I don't overwhelm myself trying to get the whole thing finished in one go.

also that should say just 1/3 (because I forgot there isn't a character limit here).

(Anonymous) 2015-12-26 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)
nnnngggggggg. Take your time, you wondrous anon you, this is already the fill of my heart.

Re: Bloodrush - 1a/3

(Anonymous) 2015-12-27 09:05 pm (UTC)(link)

Re: Bloodrush - 1a/3

(Anonymous) 2015-12-31 04:14 am (UTC)(link)
I'm looking forward to the future installments! :)

Bloodrush - 2a/3

(Anonymous) 2015-12-31 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
Han falls on her bed with grinning, legs-spread swagger, and immediately hits his head. “Ow!”

She can't help but laugh, Luke giggling into her skin behind her. Han scowls at them, and then at the headboard. “Have you had the same bed since you were ten or something? I can barely fit a forearm on here. Lucky you're not trying to seduce Chewie.”

“Thanks for the image,” she drawls. “You might not have noticed, Han, but I'm quite a bit shorter than you.”

“Still, shouldn't you be sleeping on some parsec-long thing, you know, full of cushions and drapes?” he asks, sitting up instead so he'll fit. “I thought you were a princess.”

“It's a military installation, I'll take what I can get.” I was a princess, she wants to say, but that's the sort of thing she needs to be distracted from. “Besides, anything else would be bad for morale...” And she is distracted, by soft lips pressing against the back of her neck – hesitant in their manner, but absolutely certain of their place, making her gasp softly and arch her back. Han raises an eyebrow. She ignores him. He hasn't closed his legs after all, and he clearly approves.

Luke is still shaking slightly with nerves, but he knows her body by instinct, fingers pressed tight below her navel, body folded around hers as he works her skin with kisses. He radiates warmth, like he brought his desert suns along with him, and she sinks into it easily. When Luke touches her she feels like she is something greater than herself, like something binds them together on a level she doesn't understand. The Force, she thinks, and she's never understood the Force or even understood whether to believe in it, but she feels it, right here at this moment.

Han lets out a low whistle as Luke's hands move further up, cupping her breasts softly. She groans. “See, if I tried that she'd have just slapped me.”

Something twitches deep in her gut and suddenly, she's ashamed to have Luke's hands all over her. But she's still embracing that heat, and besides, she's hardly going to let Han know. “You haven't tried yet, Han,” she whispers, voice low and enticing. “If you gave it a go, you might be surprised what would happen.”

She doesn't understand what logic means that having the two of them is less shameful than just the one. But as Han approaches, it does relax her, and lets her push harder against Luke's body (he's hard for her, and that finally alerts her to trembling wetness between her legs and the fact that, yes, she really does want this that badly). Han doesn't bother to keep his distance, standing close enough that she can feel his prick against her thigh, and she moans. There is a point at which trying to keep up her princessly demeanour is more trouble than it's worth, so she gives up.

Han rewards her with a kiss, and its as wet and warm and filthy as it was with Luke. She sighs – feels Luke gasp against her neck – and lets that flow through her body, grasping the back of Han's head to bring him closer.

He tries to return the favour, but runs into trouble – her hair, back in its buns, and when he tries to wind his hand through it he scratches himself on a pin. “Ow!”

She laughs as he pulls back, looking almost betrayed. “This is turning out to be quite dangerous for you, isn't it?”

“Well one way or another, it looks like I'm in a tight scrape,” he says, and she giggles at his blatant innuendo. Luke is already working on removing the pins from her hair, and one of her buns – the one Han didn't manage to hurt himself on – tumbles down, hair cascading across her breast. Han seems stunned, not knowing where all that hair was hiding, and immediately starts working on the other to see if he can pull off the same magic trick. “Why do you wear your hair like that anyway?” Han asks, and from the tone of his voice she can tell he's genuinely curious. “It must take awhile in the mornings. I know you live a life of action and adventure, princess, but most women I know make do with a pony tail.”

It's difficult to explain, because he's right. Her hair does take awfully long in the mornings, and it's probably a waste of time. But she needs that waste of time. She needs that respite, before the day's gruelling work begins, where she can be by herself and not deal with anything too complicated. It's half an hour or so where she doesn't need to think about about battle plans or diplomatic negotiations, just whether she needs to put an extra pin left or right to make her hair look roughly symmetrical. The pins are all scrap metal anyway, and they've come in handy in tricky situations before. As luxurious indulgences go, she could be much worse.

But she suspects that might all a bit much for Han to take in at the moment, so she brushes the question aside. “I'll explain when I'm not busy,” she says, and kisses him again, which does seem to settle the matter.

“I think your hair is beautiful, Leia,” Luke whispers in her ear, and Han pulls back again with an offended noise.

“Well of course it is, kid, did I ever say I didn't think her hair was beautiful? Don't go putting words in my mouth to one-up me–”

“Shut up, Han,” she says before kissing him again, and really for a man who flirts with her so blatantly he's making this more difficult than it needs to be. She manages to make him stagger for a second, like Luke did, and speaking of Luke his lips are still now, but his hands grasp her hips desperately, like he's afraid of losing his grip. She feels a wave of frustration wash over him, having been paid so much attention before and now almost nothing, and when he feels like that she feels it too, and she moans into Han's mouth. He takes that as encouragement, pressing their bodies closer, which sates her frustration, which only deepens Luke's frustration, which deepens hers in turn. Han decides to use his hands, grabbing at her hips, her thighs, her breasts – his hands do to her what his eyes did to Luke earlier, and Luke knows that, his thighs clinging to her as Han's fingers brush against his hands. All of their legs are starting to buckle under the pressure of just standing here, Luke might faint on them if he gets any more worked up and Leia feels like she's boiling alive again. She needs to get out of the pressure cooker, just for a moment.

“Han,” she whispers against his lips, and he looks so bewildered it's as if he's forgotten that lips can in fact be used for talking. “Han, someone went to a lot of effort to seduce us both, and I don't think he's quite the appreciation he deserves.”

He frowns at her for a second, then looks over her shoulder. “Ah. Sorry, kid.” Luke buries his face in her shoulder, and now he chooses to be embarrassed. “But you did say she deserved your reward.”

Leia chuckles as she slowly extracts herself, leaving Luke without his hiding place. “I'll be just fine, I can find rewards in lots of places.”

She gets out that burning heat and, of course, immediately misses it. Then for reasons even she can't really make sense of, she reaches for the buttons on her gown. It's designed to be put on and taken off quickly, of course, in case she's needed in an emergency, so she doesn't have to undo much before it slips from her shoulders to the floor. She gives a coy smile. “Have fun you two.”

Han and Luke both gawk at her, until Luke's gaze goes back to the floor, even more embarrassed. Han's still staring and Luke's afraid he won't compare, and she feels awful. Why did she do that again?

Now she has to fix it, so when Han meets her eye she nods in Luke's direction. Han turns back to the boy, and chuckles at his shame-faced look. “C'mere.”

Leia wonders if Han has had the Falcon's hyperdrive implanted under his skin or something, because he keeps moving and she cannot figure out how he's done it. This time, he's scooped Luke into his arms in a second, one hand hand wound round his back and the other gripping firmly to his ass, and he hoists Luke into the air to wind his legs around Han's waist. Luke gasps as he reaches desperately for Han's mouth, and Leia feels the friction on her skin as Luke needily grinds himself against Han's belly. She needs to stop underestimating Han. Except he's still not the impeccable lover he thinks he is, and Luke, even if he's small and skinny, has a fair amount of muscle from years of farmwork and clearly weighs more than Han was expecting. So Han loses balance quickly. He seems to have experience with that, because he tries to lose balance gracefully, aiming them toward the bed and letting Luke use his body to cushion the blow.

Han hits his head again. “Ow!”

okay this part is getting separated into subparts because I know it's gonna get long. apologies in advance for how confusing this will inevitably be.

Re: Bloodrush - 2a/3

(Anonymous) 2015-12-31 07:17 am (UTC)(link)
God, I love you. This is *gorgeous*, hot and hungry and so beautifully written, and I'm especially loving the connection between Luke and Leia, the way they don't quite understand it yet but they know it's *there*!

Bloodrush - 2b/3

(Anonymous) 2016-01-07 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
Luke laughs, and Han scowls. “What, are you short people conspiring against me or something?”

“Probably,” Leia shrugs, while Luke doesn't bother with the question, too needy, too eager. He grabs Han's jaw to kiss him again, and Han groans, appreciating the shameless writhing going on on top of him. They settle into a rhythm, Luke squirming to get another millimetre closer, Han thrusting up against him shallowly, teasingly, but really he lets his hands do the work. Without the effort of keeping them upright, Han lets his hands fixate on Luke's ass, kneading, playing, still determining exactly how to best make Luke fall apart. He spreads the cheeks practically with one hand, and rubs through Luke's tunic with two fingers, testing, teasing his hole. Luke breaks the kiss to moan and Leia is crushed by a wave of lust and frustration. She can't help but reach down to rub at herself, something that only brings forth more whimpers from Luke.

“Han,” she whispers, trying to keep her eyes open enough to glare, “get on with it.”

Han laughs, grabbing Luke by his hair. “Well I see we have our orders,” he says, leaning up to latch his mouth on Luke's neck. His teeth sink in, Luke gasps and Leia feels the mark blossoming on her own skin. Han mouths greedily, practically printing his name, and Luke and Leia shudder in time.

Finally, Han realises it might be worth getting some of Luke's clothes off, and makes haste to do that. It's not as easy as he thought though, and Leia laughs as he tries to pull the tunic off one shoulder, but it doesn't stretch far enough, so he tries the other shoulder, which has the exact same problem. In desperation, he tugs at the front, only to almost rip the damn thing in half.

“Oi!” Luke says, and Leia doesn't know how many other clothes he even owns.

Han huffs in defeat. “Sorry, kid. But how does this thing fucking work, then?”

Luke rolls his eyes. “You could have just asked me to do it, you know.”

“You seemed kinda busy.”

“It's not really meant to be taken on and off in the middle of the day.”

“Well then how do you...” Han's question is answered as Luke undoes fixers up around his thighs, letting the tunic open. The fabric hangs too low for Leia to see anything, but the temptation is there – on Han's face as well. Han's hands gravitate to Luke's thighs as the boy unhooks one half of crossing fabric from the other, so slowly he can start to pull the thing from his shoulders. Leia watches Han – Luke's finally made him shut up, and he's practically drooling as bare skin finally starts to emerge from that peeling cotton. Leia knows how he feels.

Luke sees the look on Han's face, and is embarrassed. “Sorry this takes so long,” he mutters, while Han keeps on staring, gobsmacked.

“No problem...”

The tunic hangs limply from Luke's waist, and Leia watches the muscles in his back – his frame is so deceptively skinny, but he has been doing years of farmwork – and can't help herself anymore. She crawls on her knees behind him, settling in between Han's legs, embracing Luke, running her hands all over his bare chest and peppering his shoulders with kisses. It's not graceful. She just wants to touch him, and the more she feels his speeding pulse under his skin, the better she feels. She wants to feel more of it.

Luke gasps as her hand travels lower, and when she grabs ahold of his cock she feels the pulse in her cunt. “You're beautiful,” she whispers in his ear, and he blushes, far more embarrassed by that than by her touching him. It's the same as the look on Han's face before. Sex might not be as new to him as they assumed, but being praised – being admired – seems to be. She kisses his jaw, letting her lips press over Han's red mark.

Han just stares as she starts to work Luke over properly, as his eyes flicker shut in pleasure. Leia keeps her eyes open. She meets Han's eye and smirks at him, teasing him with her slow, steady movements and Luke's fluttering breaths. Han lusts and envies in equal measure, circling between wanting Leia to touch him the way she touches Luke, and wanting to touch Luke the way she does. “If you're good,” she mouths at him, and he gawks in outrage. Luke's tunic still hangs on for dear life, still conceals that one part of him they're both so interested in – but Leia can touch it, she can feel it, all pulsing begging heat that's about to, she's about to–

–she can feel a little too much–

“We keep getting distracted,” Han mutters, and surges upright. Luke is shaken back to reality, and Leia is shaken loose, almost breaking her wrist against Luke's hipbone. Han is impatient, and now tries to pull Luke's tunic off properly. He's somewhat successful, as it falls to Luke's thighs rather than his waist – probably posing a greater risk of him falling over, but also enough for Han to take his leaking cock in hand as he nuzzles at his neck.

“Thief,” she mutters, but neither of them is listening, especially not Luke, who is so blissed out he barely notices who is touching him anymore. She sighs and works to pull the tunic down further, getting it as far as his knees – anything else is impossible, given he's kneeling on the bed.

“Luke,” she whispers, and she's pressed up against his back again, she can't bring herself to be anything else, tugging at his earlobe with her teeth. “Luke, you might have to move.”

Han doesn't stop in his attentions, so it's pretty difficult for Luke to notice what she just said, that she was just speaking, but eventually the fog clears. “Huh?” He sounds so confused, and she aches with lust – with fear – once more. He looks down, and realises the problem. “Ah. Han, hang on, wait.”

Han whimpers as Luke pushes him away, and as he extracts himself from their two bodies, Han is left outright pouting. Leia tries not to look too smug, given she's left as cold and as frustrated as he is (and the further away Luke's body is from hers, the more shame and terror sink back in, lacing her sweat). But she can't help but smirk slightly, and he decides to have his revenge – he grabs her her the back of the neck and kisses her, hard.

She falls into it in a second, half-mad with lust as she is. She groans as his hands grab her waist, not pulling her close enough to do anything – not close enough to give her his cock – but close enough to remind her that he could do just that, if he wanted. He runs his thumb from her collarbone downward, breaking left to flick one of her nipples, earning a – well, a squeak, if she's being honest – before heading back south to press at her clit, hard, firm, and barely for a moment.

Then he breaks away – not just his hand, not just the kiss, but his whole body. He leaves her panting, and fixes her with his cockiest grin. “More later. If you're good.”

She hates him. It's all she can do not to roll on her back and beg.

Luke. She reminds herself of Luke, and goes to find him with her eyes. He's still perched on the bed, and now it's his turn to stare – completely naked and biting his lip, his prick throbbing against his thigh, but not willing to touch himself without their blessing. At least one of them knows how to be good. Han turns that grin on Luke instead. “Sorry. I was meant to be having fun with you, wasn't I?”

We were,” Leia reminds him, suddenly infuriated that Han hasn't bothered to take off his clothes yet, and she and Luke have. He probably planned that, the bastard.

Luke just keeps gawking for a second, before he realises he can in fact move, and starts crawling back for whatever he can get. But Han stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Nah. You wait there. I'll come to you.”

Luke and Leia frown in sync. What's he playing at?

Re: Bloodrush - 2b/3

(Anonymous) 2016-01-07 12:10 pm (UTC)(link)
God, I love you, anon. I didn't think it was possible, it's already perfection, but this actually keeps getting better and better!

Re: Bloodrush - 2b/3

(Anonymous) 2016-01-13 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)
nnngh, very nice!

not op but I love you :*

(Anonymous) 2016-01-14 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
Holy cow, anon, I LOVE this fill. I can't wait to read more of it, tysm!

Re: Bloodrush - 2b/3

(Anonymous) 2016-01-15 07:06 am (UTC)(link)
I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for the next part!

Bloodrush - 2c/3

(Anonymous) 2016-02-04 01:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Han does at least have the decency not to make them wait too long, making his way to Luke, now just perched there staring. He gives another kiss, and it's rough – Leia sees (feels?) a bite – but brief. “Hang on, kid,” Han mutters.

She doesn't know how he keeps doing this, but all of a sudden Han's not on the bed anymore, he's on the floor, on his knees. Luke's eyes go wide in shock. “Han!”

Han chuckles as he looks up. “What, has no-one ever done this for you before?”

Leia clenches her legs at the sudden rush of heat. Apparently not – looking the way he does, Luke has a history of being the one asked to get on his knees. You don't know that. Luke stutters on the way to an answer, before Han ever so gently runs his tongue across the head of Luke's cock – the whole concept of answering questions falls into the abyss. Leia lets out a shuddering gasp under her breath. All at once she feels hot and overwhelmed, cold and neglected. She makes her way back, settling over Luke's shoulder so she can watch.

Given the way they fight it's only natural she's thought about Han on his knees performing oral sex before, although she mostly thought about him giving it to her, and she hoped he wouldn't look so damn smug about it. Luke doesn't seem to be complaining though, as he mewls as Han makes his way up, pressing small kisses to the underside. Precum leaks from Luke and Leia's swamped with this urge to taste, although she has no idea how. Han seems to know that, so he delves back down and wipes it away with his tongue, to the rhythm of Luke's gasping breaths. She glares jealously and he winks at her. “Wait your turn, princess.”

She's never been very patient. “If you want me to wait my turn, maybe you should get a move on,” and she reaches forward, wrapping her hand around Luke again. Luke keens to the touch but this is nothing new, he's familiar with this. Still, it's something. Han just laughs at her.

“Hey, I don't wanna spook the kid, do I?” He closes his lips around Luke, finally, but just for a second, just so Leia can feel him throb in her hand. “Still, I don't mind you helping out a bit. He's big enough for the both of us.”

Leia feels Luke flush with embarrassment, herself with annoyance, and Han finally gets to work. She grips tighter as Han takes Luke deep into his mouth, rough and unpretentious, because she's not going to let him have all the fun. Luke gives an absolutely wretched gasp and she bites her lip to repress a noise.

She softens her grasp a little, because she's afraid they'll either hurt Luke or make him come in a nanosecond (she feels like she's teetering on the edge too). Hesitant, Luke reaches out with shaky hands, combing them through Han's hair. Han chuckles, and bobs down encouragingly. Luke bucks and cries, yanking – Leia swears she sees Han gag, just for a second, and considers it a victory.

Luke, however, seems horribly embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters, which Han takes as cue to pull off and smile at him (Leia is struck by a horrible chill, and presses her lips against Luke's neck to keep from whimpering).

“Don't worry 'bout me kid. I've had a lot rougher.”

That only embarrasses Luke further, but Leia realises she has an opportunity – she leans forward and starts stroking Luke properly, without Han's mouth getting in the way. Luke keens again and leans back into her – it feels right, it feels proper. “Some of us think it's important to be polite about these things,” she says.

Han raises an eyebrow. “Hey, I was trying to have a conversation here before I was interrupted by someone...”

She doesn't reply, just smirks at him as Luke's moans echo, daring him to do something. She knows he's waiting for his moment though. Sure enough, he waits until she just pulls back, leaping forward to take the head of Luke's cock back into his mouth – and with it he catches Leia's fingertips.

The way he swirls his tongue is digusting, lewd, probably something he picked up on a Corellian brothel – and it works like a charm. Luke practically shrieks and Leia, Leia finds the most desperate moan being ripped from her throat. She's so on heat that this is what Han can do to her by touching her fingers. And he knows it.

Luke breaks the tension, as he starts to laugh between his pants. “I should have let you two fuck first,” he muses. “Resolve that sexual tension so you wouldn't have to be so damn competitive.”

Leia starts to laugh herself – it's hard to tell Han's reaction, but from the full-body shiver that runs through Luke, she'd say Han is laughing too. She leans up and tugs on Luke's ear with her teeth. “But you like this, Luke.”

She knows that's true.

Eventually they settle back into position, Han sucking and Leia stroking, and Luke resigning himself to being their battlefield. She still shivers whenever Han delves to brush his tongue over her hand – but she gets her own back once or twice, reaching out to stretch his mouth wider with her fingers. He moans when she does that. He must like this more than that rough-and-tumble smuggler exterior would betray.

After awhile it's all too much for Luke, and she knows it's coming even without his cries fading into each other, becoming some sort of constant whine. She can hardly breathe. “Han,” she barks, but Han's not listening, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed (she knows he's playing it up for her benefit, but he might have gotten a little lost in character).

Luke pulls hard at his hair. “Han,” he moans.

Han pulls away one more time, and Leia feels the wind knocked out of her, and tries not to grind against Luke in desperation (why should she act like that? No-one is touching her anyway. For that matter, why has she let this go on so long without anyone touching her?)

“Problem?” asks Han, grinning and letting just how wet his mouth is be known. Leia wants to kiss him. She wants to punch him.

Luke whimpers and Leia grips tight at the base to keep him under control. “I can't... I'm going to...”

Leia prefers her communication a little more concrete, but Han seems to get the gist.

“Really,” he drawls, moving his hand so he can trail his fingertips across Luke's cock. Luke whimpers and bucks, but Han doesn't seem perturbed. He's weighing up his options. After all, they'll want to do a lot more with Luke later. Is it worth making him come now?

But Luke is desperate, and it hits Leia like a wave until her teeth are digging into his skin again, trying not to make the same noises he is. “Han,” she chokes out in warning. She is still holding Luke's cock, and it is still right in front of Han. She could resolve this in a way Han might not want her too.

Han smirks, again. “Hey, you're what, nineteen? You'll be up for another round in about five minutes. Don't worry about it.” Leia can't help but sigh with relief. “The princess and I will just have to keep each other entertained for awhile.”

Princess. It's that word he loves calling her, that word that she isn't anymore, and it would stop her in her tracks except Han's lips are back around Luke's cock, and on instinct she lets go so Han can take him right to the back of his throat. Luke gasps in almost all the air in the room and Leia struggles for what's left, her hips moving of their own volition, thrusting in time with Luke as he keens harder into Han's mouth. That wave of desperation hits her once more, Luke lets out a cry and Leia bites him, a third red mark upon his neck, sinking her teeth in as he shudders, hanging on for dear life, and she swears she tastes blood.

Re: Bloodrush - 2c/3

(Anonymous) 2016-02-04 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Nnngh... very nice!

Re: Bloodrush - 2c/3

(Anonymous) 2016-02-06 09:35 am (UTC)(link)
This is sooo good

Re: Bloodrush - 2c/3

(Anonymous) 2016-02-06 02:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Fantastic. Everything I could've asked for from this fill, and more. Can't wait to see the rest!

Re: Bloodrush - 2c/3

(Anonymous) 2016-02-07 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
Where is the rest???


(Anonymous) 2016-02-07 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
working on it! :)

Re: a!a

(Anonymous) - 2016-02-12 22:44 (UTC) - Expand

Re: a!a

(Anonymous) - 2016-02-13 02:22 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Bloodrush - 2c/3

(Anonymous) 2016-02-14 06:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, very nice!

Bloodrush - 2d/3

(Anonymous) 2016-02-18 06:54 am (UTC)(link)
Eventually the shuddering leaves Luke's body and enters Leia's, and she shakes violently, ridiculously, as Luke is overwhelmed with exhaustion. She digs her nails into his hips, trying to steal that relaxation for herself. She hasn't come, not even close but her mind is fogged as if she has. She's never felt like this before and it's agonising, like she's trapped in the middle of Luke's pleasure with no end or beginning it sight.

Luke whimpers. “Leia. Ow.”

Pain. He's in pain. That gets through to her eventually, and she draws her teeth and nails away. “Sorry,” she whispers, still as close to him as she can possibly justify. She can't even talk, and it's pathetic.

She looks to Han, assuming – practically begging – he'll make some smart remark and that will snap her out of it. He doesn't say a word. He just stays there, on his knees for such a long moment – she doesn't think he's ever been quiet that long before.

Finally she finds out why, when he stands up and reaches past Luke, winding his hand through her hair – and kissing her. She moans and pours herself into the kiss, only to be greeted with the taste of salt – that's Luke, she realises, which only makes her moan louder, kiss harder. Han claims her mouth ruthlessly, smearing Luke's come across her tongue. Without thinking she swallows it, Han laughs against her jaw and she is furious, even as she whimpers in need, darting her tongue out in search of more. This isn't any less pathetic of her, but at least the shaking in her bones starts to abate, an effective palliative having been found. When Han finally pulls away a milky white string connects them, he grins and Luke has been taken away from her, she's been knocked half onto her back, lying on the bed with legs spread and Han perched eagerly between them. She lets out a long, shuddering breath. She can breathe again.

She knows how desperate she must look – like something out of the troops' holovids, one of the alien blondes five seconds before she starts begging. Han would never let her forget it though, so she's not going to do that – but it's a close thing, and she bites her lip again to keep herself under control. Luke, help me.

What exactly can Luke do? But she feels him grab her wrist, squeeze softly, and that soothes her nerves enough for her to face Han with the same stubborn pride as always (whatever happened to abandoning her princessly demeanour?).

“Well captain,” she says, and she means to call him that mockingly, even though she's sure he likes it, “weren't you meant to be keeping me entertained? Or did you tire yourself out a bit?”

Han chuckles. “Hey, we've got all night here. No need to rush.”

The head of his cock traces ever so lightly over her thigh, and she starts battering her eyelids entirely unwillingly. He's still hard, shamelessly, drippingly hard, enough that this should be torture for him – but they both know how ever much this is agonising him, it is worse for her, and he is not going to give up that advantage any time soon. But she isn't going to ask him for pity either, so she simply has to endure it.

Luke, still wet and exhausted, is whimpering.

Leia gasps, snapped out of reverie, as Han pushes on finger into her before she even notices. She's so wet she gives no resistance, and immediately starts squirming and wriggling her hips to try and get him to move. No luck. Instead he's gone as soon as he arrived.

She will not moan. She holds her breath, and lets it out as gracefully as she can manage. But she doesn't really fool anybody. “Anybody would think I'd been sucking you off,” Han muses.

“Well if it meant you were doing something...” It's almost an admission – that she's absolutely desperate and that if he gets her off, she will do anything else he wants, except tell him that, of course. She barely keeps it smug enough for it not to count as surrender. Really, this is all very unfair.

Han smirks. “Yeah, but that's not what you really want.” He's got her there. Just to belabour the point, he takes his cock in hand and guides it to press up against her.

She immediately starts whimpering, barely keeps from mewling. He doesn't just press against her either, gently he slides his prick up and down, nudging against her clit before teasing her hole once again. Her hips start canting of their own accord, and biting her lip won't do anymore, she moves her free hand to cover her mouth because it's too much, she can't do this, she needs it–

“Han, please!”

But she didn't say it. She and Han both pause, and turn to look at Luke. He's hard again, staring at them wide-eyed. His nails are digging so hard into her wrist they might leave marks – she didn't even notice. His breaths are gasping, ragged, and sync perfectly with hers.

Han seems bemused – understandably – but shrugs, looking back at Leia. “Real sweetheart, isn't he?”

She nods along but thinks of something else, of the look on Luke's face and the agony she felt after he came, and she keeps her eyes locked on Luke while she tries to figure out what in the galaxy she is thinking.

Until Han finally pushes his cock into her and she can't think of a single other thing.

Bloodrush - 2e/3

(Anonymous) 2016-03-12 10:38 am (UTC)(link)
Except Luke's nails, digging into her shoulder as Han sinks further in. He gaps for her as her eyes roll back in her head. Han bottoms out and lets out a moan he will inevitably try and pass off as a manly grunt – she feels him trembling, hipbones knocking together, and realises he's – well not as desperate as she is, but desperate enough. He just has a better poker face. Well all that cheating and gambling was good for something.

“Move,” she commands, and he must have sapped his willpower because he actually does as she says. She breathes fast, sharp, but she keeps from mewling and calls it a success. Luke is not so lucky. His fingers grip in time with her breathing, and she worries vaguely about bruises the next morning. He whines and whimpers, and while he does she can let her mouth hang open, confident in the fact no sound will come out.

Han looks up at Luke, wide-eyed, before regaining his usual swagger and mocking grin. “Sorry kid. Promise you'll get your turn.”

Han turns back to her. “Beautiful,” he mutters, and she doesn't think she was meant to hear it so she pretends not to. He learns over to kiss her breasts and she groans – so he drags his teeth across the flesh, softly at first, then harder when he realises she won't buckle easily. It earns him a sharp gasp, which makes him chuckle. Bastard.

Luke is running his fingers in her hair frantically as Han starts to push in and out in rhythm, and when Leia tilts her hips to change the angle, he pulls. “Leia,” he whispers. “Leia.”

Han is groaning in her ear, and with her hands running across Han's chest of their own accord, it's hard to really pay attention – but Luke needs her, so she does her best.

“What is it?” she asks, a little more brusque than she'd like. It's damn near impossible to look at his face from here, she practically breaks her neck – and sees him wide-eyed, lips bright red from being bitten, one hand wrapped around his cock. Han's teeth are latched onto her neck, his hands knead and paw at her breasts, but it's that sight which makes her moan. She wants Luke desperately, but that gnawing doubt is back. Is that what I look like? She half-wonders whether he'd be kind enough to put his cock in her mouth – well it would keep her quiet at least. But she gets the impression that's not what he's after.

Despite it all, he's still a little too embarrassed to tell her what he's after, and as he hesitates Han works her closer and closer to the edge. “Luke,” she tries to hurry him, but in her heat and her pleasure it's just another moan. Han gives a little huff.

“Hey, Princess, who is doing all the actual work here? You might just wanna think about where your attentions belong.”

She rolls her eyes and shrugs – sarcastically apologetic is probably the best term for it. That doesn't do much to placate him – she didn't really want it to – so instead he grabs her by the hips and just fucks her.

Wow, he really can move fast, is the closest thing to a cohesive thought she can manage as it turns out, she wasn't quite prepared for this. Han doesn't want to hold back and tease her anymore, which reveals maybe she was never as strong and defiant as she thought, because she is mewling now and she knows it, clinging to Han's shoulders, heels in the air and kicking at his back, more, more, harder, please. Well at least she managed not to say that out loud.

“Leia,” Luke is panting in time with her, and between the two of them it's all getting a bit much (but which two?). “Leia, do you have something to–”

And despite everything, he cuts off with a blush. “Top drawer,” she says quickly. That was more fuss than it needed to be. Han gives her a curious look. She ignores him.

This bed really isn't big enough, and Luke ends up curled awkwardly at her side, his chest just barely touching her. She wants to lean into him. She wants to pull away. But Han is still above her, sweating and heaving, and she only has so much room to move.

Fuck,” he hisses, as her legs clasp around his waist. “Careful princess, else little Luke there's going to end up pretty disappointed.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Didn't know I was becoming such a problem?”

Han weighs this over for a moment. “Well it's more of a shared dilemma than anything.”

To underline that, he winds his hand through her hair (folding over Luke's) and fixes her mouth to her neck, sucking like he's drawing blood, and she gasps.

He thinks he's got a handle on her, leaving her moaning like that. Finally she feels broad fingers pressing at her clit, light and teasing. “Han,” she chokes, and god she hates the way she sounds.

“Yeah,” he grunts in her ear, “I got a nice name, I don't mind if you take it for a spin.”

Oh, but she knows how disappointed he'll be if she just gives in. She seals her lips ostententatiously, and he pulls back to look at her. He chuckles.

“Stubborn, aren't ya?”

And then he stops.

Her eyes narrow to slits in absolute fury once she realises what's happened. “What in the galaxy do you think you're doing, you teasing lying nerfherder?”

He shrugs. “Hey, I don't have to keep this up if I don't feel adequately appreciated. Remember, I'm doing you a favour here.”

“It was more of a shared reward than anything,” she spits, but it doesn't move him. She looks to Luke.

He's still staring wide-eyed, but he looks almost as annoyed as she is. He smiles at her. Go get him.

She does just that.

It takes most of the strength in her body (just hers?), but she takes Han by surprise and rolls, pinning him to the bed. For once he seems perplexed by how she did that. But he hardly seems surprised that she would. “Typical. Can't let a guy have a little fun, can ya?”

She scoffs. “Please, like this isn't exactly what you wanted me to do.”

She's too impatient to wait for him to deny it, even if, having been teased and tortured, she should at least make an attempt and payback. But the way he groans when she pushes herself down at him, the way his thighs tense and lock around her hips, the way he bares his throat and looks awfully embarrassed about it – he doesn't like showing weakness any more than she does – that's probably payback enough. She can concentrate on more important things.

Because she feels good, she feels full – she feels fuller than she did before, and doesn't quite understand – she locks eyes with Luke once more, teeth buried in his lip and fingers buried somewhere else, whimpering. She smiles at him, and presses her fingers to her clit, rubbing needily.

It doesn't take her long, given how much she's waited, before she's whimpering and moaning and all the rest of it. But she's not ashamed of it now. Beneath her, Han is panting, gasping, fingers digging into her skin, trying desperately to hold on. She wishes she could think of something to help him, but really she can hardly think at all. A few more desperate thrusts and she looks once more at Lake, practically trembling. Then, finally, she comes.

Her jaw hangs open as the wave of ecstasy crashes over her – wave is the right word, it's like being drowned, she can barely breathe. But that passes. When it does the exhaustion settles in its place, as every muscle in her body protests at once, and she ungainly flops by Han's side.

He turns to look at her. “You know one day,” he says, softly running a hand through her hair, “we've really gotta work on your control issues.”

She smiles at him. “One day.”

She wonders if he's gonna hold her to that.

Re: Bloodrush - 2e/3

(Anonymous) 2016-03-12 10:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Nnngh, this is so hot!

Re: Bloodrush - 2e/3

(Anonymous) 2016-04-26 02:52 pm (UTC)(link)

please please more

Re: Bloodrush - 2e/3

(Anonymous) 2016-06-11 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Is there more or will there be??