followhim | open post

open post

☒ action ☒ text ☒ picture prompts ☒ overflow ☒ etc

WISH LIST

★ my dark au kink:
+ being captured by the first order and subjected to reconditioning
+ trying to turn him back with the power of gay love and friendship (and possibly failing)
+ he was always a first order tie fighter pilot instead of winter soldiered
+ poe and finn first order murder squad (dynamics if they were both stormtroopers? running away together?)
+ ^ part b: the fam that gets captured and reconditioned together… stays…together…
+ Interesting Dynamics with kylo and hux from dark aus

★ finn stuff
+ what will they do after the war? romantic vacations? homesteading? sending finn's spit to space 23andme?
+ infinite escape reimagining/aus, stormpilot escape room reigning champions

★ rey stuff
+ relationship of convenience because they're both In Denial
+ sith princess rey aus where he tries to save her and/or she turns him

★ kylo stuff
+ infinite interrogating/torture room reimagining/aus
+ ^ part b: stockholm syndrome?
+ We Need to Talk about Leia

★ general
+ honestly anything regarding leia (esp processing grief post-tros)
+ talking about his sketchy spice runner past (possibly playing things taking place during that time in his life?)
+ ^ same for things taking place during academy/new republic tbh
+ i love aus. modern aus, vampire aus, a/b/o aus, let's au the entire world
+ i prefer m/m for poe but am good with most ships

kinks if ya nasty

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ on his own terms. he wanted to die on his own terms. not like some kind of pin cushion. and just like that, he finds something new to be horrified of. would the devil he knew be better or worse than the devil he didn't?

that is when it occurs to him, as he's working through all his pain to think: ]

Can't put up much of a fight when you've got me broken like this.

[ instead of thinking of it as a fear, maybe he can reframe it as... a plea for her to not mutilate him any further. ]

Not a physical fight, no. [ She'll agree that much, but only that much, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being fully correct in his assessment. Truly, that is the line she has to be concerned with when it comes to him, more than any other. The balance between too much fight and defiance, and none.

Fully broken things do tend to lose her interest quickly once they reach that point. She still has too many ideas — uses — for him to want to get him to that point already. ]

Remember what I said earlier about screaming yourself hoarse?

[ With that she pulls the blade from her belt, lightly tapping the flat of it against her other hand as she moves to stand beside him. ] There's still plenty of you that can feel pain. Still a few places I'm sure you value... [ She shifts her gaze from his face to follow the blade as she trails the edge of it along one of his arms, making her way toward his hand. ]

[ he doesn’t want to scream, just on principle. it would be giving her satisfaction that she doesn’t deserve. he’s worn out, full-blown trauma fatigue. horrified yet exhausted.

so when she starts moving the knife towards his hand, he’s quick to comment with ]

Didn’t you do this already? The hand thing?

[ she wouldn't leave him permanently injured. probably. he thinks. it hadn't been her style thus far, anyway. ]

Did I? Then I'm sure this won't bother you at all. [ There's fake innocence in her tone as she replies, not bothering to look at him. She'll sense a reaction soon enough.

Her empty hand grabs his arm just past the restraint around his wrist so she can hold his arm still and keep his hand near the wall. She adjusts how she's holding the knife in her other hand, fingers curling around the handle as she draws on her power. Any struggle is barely noted as she wordlessly drives the knife's blade into the back of his hand, summoning her Force-backed strength in an effort to stick the blade in the wall beneath his hand.

Only then does Kylo turn her head to look at him, eyes bright with that unnatural dark glow from how much she's tapped into the Force during her torture session. The predator eyeing her prey, and debating on inflicting even more pain. ]

[ it’s funny that just when he thinks his endurance for pain and trauma has truly hit rock bottom, she can push him just one step further. “been there done that” is surprisingly not helpful when someone is pinning your hand to the wall by ramming a knife through it. he screams then, raw and ragged with tears in his eyes.

he tries to struggle against it, almost reflexively, but her strength offers no leeway. neither does her face, when she’s glaring at him all glowy-eyed. every fraction of a movement he tries to make just makes the pain worse.

but — he stubbornly refuses to plea or beg for it to stop. he averts her eyes and puts all his effort into simply breathing without passing out. ]

[ There it is, just what she was after. Not the breaking point, but a breaking point; a button to push that may as well have been a live wire.

The way he screams takes her back briefly to the first time. She'd been too focused on the task at hand to note any kind of enjoyment, of course, but the deep darkness in her had been thrilled by it. Such raw pain, such ferocity, like the very soul was crying out for mercy. Once she experienced it in person she was surprised not by how he managed to break a droid that was specifically built for such situations. Even non-Force sensitives were capable of peculiar feats.

As Kylo stands there, watching and feeling the absolute anguish he's in, she only barely restrains the urge to twist the knife and make a larger wound. She wants to hurt him, but not truly cripple him. He's not done anything to merit that, yet. Besides, it simply wouldn't do for her to ruin one or both of his hands before she's taken full advantage of having the famed "best pilot" under her control.

Absently, she realizes her thirst for inflicting pain and bloodshed must be relatively satisfied, to so willingly hold herself back in the moment.

It's another minute or two before she pulls the knife out, and she eyes the bloody blade, almost like admiring her handiwork, before focusing on him. Despite her restraint there's a part of her that wants to drive the knife into him again, to stab him and listen to his screams echoing off the walls. She shouldn't, but that part of her would love nothing more. Destruction could be so satisfying. Instead she slips the knife back in her belt so she isn't tempted to use it again.

Assuming he hasn't passed out from the pain by this point, she lifts her hand to invite unconsciousness to take his tormented mind, her rational mind winning out this time and knowing it best not to torture him further lest she do something she can't completely undo.

And if he has passed out while she was busy reigning herself in, she'll simply stroke his hair a moment, looking upon him as she considers the plans she yet has in store for him. ]

[ every bit of him — that he can still feel — is pulled taught with agony. the knife comes out of his hand and it’s a relief — a string inside of him snapping. he almost passes out then and there, eager to black out and escape the aftershocks.

it’s only when he feels something outside himself — her — try to pull him into unconsciousness does he fight back, trying to stay awake, biting at the inside of his cheek in lieu of literally any other sort of movement. it doesn’t last long, though, before he’s unable to do anything but give in, letting the soft promise of darkness take him. ]

[ When a few troopers arrive she's polishing one of her knives, eyes on Poe's unconscious form like she's contemplating where to injure him next time. ]

Take Dameron to the private medbay. I want all his wounds healed, no exceptions. I also want him kept sedated. [ She couldn't have her little mental trick being discovered by him, not yet. ] Make sure the staff know I'll be checking on the progress and if my orders aren't followed there will be consequences.

"What about that one?" [ One of the troopers inquires about the first prisoner while the other troopers tend to Poe. ]

That one... we're going to send back to where it came from, as a message. [ Kylo smiles darkly, with a little private amusement. ] Since you asked, you're in charge of seeing it through.

[ The trooper salutes but her attention has already shifted back to Poe, watching carefully as he's taken from the room. She's not sure how long it will take to mend what she's done to him — or if she'll need to lend a bit of Force healing to the process — but she's not worried. There's plenty to occupy herself with in the meantime.

True to her word Kylo checks in a couple times to make sure all is well, and once he's well on the road to recovery she instructs them to keep him sedated an extra day or two before having him taken to his room. Despite the temptation to ~~harass~~ visit him as soon as she gets word he's awake, Kylo stays away. A little anticipation was rarely a bad thing, even if it did try her patience at times. Partly it's to prove to herself that she has self control, and to make sure he's had enough time to recover.

A few days after there's a break from the familiar routine when she finally sends for him. Not to one of the previous locations but to somewhere new, if having been arguably inevitable: her personal chambers.

Sitting in a chair, Kylo looks up from the report she was reading when he's brought in. She's curious to see the state he's in, not just physically, although she certainly has an interest in that. When his escort leaves she barely pays them any mind other than to savor that they're alone. ]

Have you missed me, Poe? [ It's a mild tease as her gaze drifts over him, sizing him up visually as well as how he feels to her in the Force. ]

[ there were a couple moments in his medbay stay were he was almost half-awake, but not awake enough to process anything besides harsh light and the ability to breathe.

that continues for a span of time that he’s sure has to be days, until he’s led back to his own quarters. it’s a giant relief to be able to walk and have a full range of motion again, although he’s trying really hard to block that particular torture session from his mind completely. the paralysis had struck some kind of nerve with him. his brain’s funny bone. there was no desire to relive it.

all good things come to an end, though. not that things had exactly been good — but now he could stop wondering what kylo ren would have in store for him next, because here she was before him and he had the sinking feeling things were going to go back to the status quo. her torturing him, him enduring while feeling weak and helpless. ]

Pretty sure you already know the answer to that.

[ answer being he'd rather dive headfirst into a trash compactor than see her again. he didn't like being in her personal chambers. it felt too... well, personal. ]

You gonna tell me why I'm here or drag it out?

[ Her lips curl, not quite a coy grin but pleasant amusement nonetheless. While she wasn't going to drag it out, make him work to discover the intent, she also wasn't going to spell it all out immediately. Instead of replying she shifts slightly to set her datapad down on the endtable next to her and then stands. ]

As fun as everything to now has been — [ Well, fun for her maybe. ] — I think it's time to get more serious.

[ When she moves it's not to approach him, perhaps surprisingly, but instead to walk to her nearby desk where a box currently sits, rather unremarkable and plain on its own. ]

I don't know if you recall that little incident with the Hutts a few weeks ago? It actually turned out rather well, after a show of force. Disgusting creatures, and annoyingly somewhat resistant to the Force, but not adverse to some negotiating. Because for all that is distasteful about them, there are a few things they're very knowledgeable on. A few unique resources they've come by that would be difficult to find or have made elsewhere.

[ By now she's rested a hand on the box, slightly smiling to herself as she looks at it. After a moment she lifts the lid and reaches in with both hands for the contents, carefully taking out what very clearly is some manner of metallic slave collar. The metal has a matte finish, not shining terribly in the light but polished and new just the same. ]

[ “a few weeks ago” is what actually makes him take pause first. he doesn't like having no grasp of the passage of time between being unconscious and being awake for fresh rounds of torture. even in those occasional gaps of time left on his own, it's hard to track the time. especially with very little in the way of outside stimulation. solitary confinement in a bedroom with a shower is still solitary confinement. he tries to exercise — push-ups, sit-ups, etc — to pass the time, but it feels meaningless. (sometimes he touches himself and tries to think of finn, or any previous sexual encounters he’s had, to try and rinse the unwanted encounters with brianna from his mind.)

he’s quiet and watchful while she talks, eyeing the way she moves across the room with curiosity, confusion, and— as always— dread.

no. he’s not stupid. he knows what it is (maybe not the exact specifications, but knows what a slave collar is) and that it’s no doubt meant for him. but he’s still going to … live in denial about it. ]

I’m not seeing the part that’s not distasteful.

You mean other than the part where I didn't sell you to them?

[ She wouldn't; not to the Hutts under any circumstance, and not in general at this stage, but he doesn't need to know that. Threats weren't near as effective if it seemed like there was no chance of a follow-through.

Admiring the craftsmanship of the collar a moment more, she finally turns around with it in her hands. She knows he's smart enough to figure out where this is going but she's not entirely certain of how he'll react. Which is fine with her. A bit of exploration is on the menu for the evening rather than the outright torture of the last time she had him alone. ]

Honestly, you should be flattered. Market price for a piece like this is almost as much as one of the bounties still on your head.

[ Partly due to just how custom she made sure it would be. Form and function were equally important; if she wanted a simple ring of metal she could manage that herself, or simply wrap her belt around his throat when she felt the urge. But she has plans to make use of his professional skills, at least a time or two, and she wants to make sure it's clear to any who see Poe just who he belongs to. That, and since she's not interested in breaking his mind (yet, in any case) she has to keep in mind there's only so much solitary confinement any person can take. Something that a slave collar with a few built-in perks can alleviate the need for.

On the back of the collar where it locks the First Order insignia has been embossed, both to serve as a brand of sorts and to cover the slight seam in the metal when it's closed. On the front, in contrast, a polished kyber crystal nearly the width of the collar has been set, the crystal still its natural color. A crystal she herself picked out from the mines, needing to find one that was just right even though it wouldn't be going in a lightsaber.

She approaches him with a relatively neutral expression, watching him carefully, and a little curiously. ]

[ the tightening of his jaw indicates that whether or not she actually would sell him to the hutts (he's pretty sure she wouldn't, honestly. not by the amount of "fun" she seems to always be having), he doesn't really appreciate the "kindness."

he steps back instinctively, wanting to maintain as much distance between them as possible. even with practically no hope for escape, his muscles are still always tensed and ready to break out into a run at the slightest opportunity. every moment has the potential for him to grab her lightsaber and almost ignite it at himself again. ]

Can't say I'm much flattered by going from prisoner to slave. [ symbolically, anyway. from the looks of things. ] Seems like a downgrade to me.

[ he didn't like the idea of belonging to her in some tangible official form. as just a prisoner, he had the hope of maybe somehow, someday, escaping and being free. it seemed more and more distant and impossible, but he still used that tiny little ember of hope to keep him warm at night. now... something about it felt harder. further from his grasp. ]

I hope you got a return policy on that.

[ Rather than halt him with the Force she lets him back up, trying to stay away from her. She doesn't even change her pace. Just steadily walks toward him, only a twitch of a predator's smirk on her lips when he eventually runs out of space behind him. Sometimes she wonders if he drags out the inevitable on purpose or if in such instances he really thinks there's a chance of the outcome changing.

It's only when he's backed himself in a corner — metaphorically or literally — that she lifts a hand to still him at last, although she only uses just enough power to do that. ]

A downgrade? Why, it's more the opposite. I would think you'd like more freedom of motion than being kept in a glorified cage all the time.

[ Not that he's going to be able to wander wherever he wants, but that'll be explained soon enough.

Once in his space she reaches out to brush her fingers along his throat, the side of his neck, almost a caress really, before she moves to place the collar around his neck. It's essentially a perfect fit, loose enough to slip a finger or two between skin and metal if necessary. The inside layer is even smoother than the outside though a different type of metal, no sharp edges to catch on or rough spots to rub and cause discomfort. There's some weight to it, like there's more to it than can be seen, but no loose parts to rattle or otherwise make noise when the collar moves.

As the lock clicks into place she can't help but smile to herself, brushing her thumb along the metal to confirm the pieces fit flush together. There's no switch or clasp that can be felt, which was a very purposeful request on her part, not simply because she doesn't trust anyone else but because even though she's been slowly breaking down Poe's resistance and will to escape she knows better than to underestimate him on that count.

She takes a half step back and makes a slight gesture with her hand to release him from the invisible hold, having only wanted to restrain him so she could put the collar on him without incident. ]

I took the liberty of having you measured while you were in the medbay. Wouldn't want anything too tight around that pretty neck of yours. Other than my hands, of course.

Right, I get to go wherever I want now that I'm officially your property.

[ it really is a monkey paw's wish. sure, it would be nice, but the shame is enough to twist his stomach, make him want to stay in his room after all. he still remembers the feeling when she had him kneel next to her in the boardroom. it's not the worst feeling he's endured since being taken captive, but not one he's eager to revisit.

he already knew he'd ran out of space before he ends up next to the wall, which is why her using the force to stop him makes anger prickle under his skin. he already knew he was out of space. when she starts adjusting the collar around his neck, however, he gets a better idea of why.

as soon as the collar clicks into place, he hates it. it's smooth and not heavy enough to be burdensome, which somehow makes him hate it even more. the second she's no longer touching him, his hand are at his neck, feeling at the collar and also looking for that lock that he just felt, like he could immediately pull it off and show her a thing or two. ]

Keep your hands to yourself, thanks.

[ it's sarcastic. he's still looking. fact: his life has become one long series of defiant exercises of futility. ]

[ She hums a sound that might be amusement and watches him struggle with the collar for a few moments before turning away. ]

Well, not quite wherever you want. Some areas are off-limits. All of the hangar bays, naturally, unless you're accompanying me. The same with the bridge.

[ Talking as she returns to the desk, she takes one last thing out of the box: a small remote that fits in the palm of her hand. ]

Your new jewelry is fitted with a tracking device, both so you can always be found and so you can't go anywhere you aren't supposed to. But if you try to, say, go steal a ship...

[ As she turns to look at him she presses a button on the remote, triggering the collar to deliver a low-level shock, watching him attentively as she does so. ]

[ his muscles all contract and stop working as he collapses to the floor. he's able to sit up after a few seconds, it hurt, but was nothing compared to actually being tased. he starts on an unsteady rise back to his feet. everything is sore. ]

You — [ it takes an additional second for him to regroup mentally enough to say a whole sentence. ] you gave me a shock collar? Like I'm a kriffing animal.

[ he hasn't even fully processed the tracking device part. the pain is distracting. ]

[ As she observes him she mentally notes the reaction, and apparent recovery time, since she hadn't gotten a chance to see a demonstration of the power levels previously. It's satisfactory to her; the first level was intended as a warning after all, like a slap on the hand and then allowing said hand to be drawn back. Wouldn't be much of a warning if it was totally debilitating right off the bat. ]

Everyone's an animal if you break them down far enough. [ On that she can speak from experience, even if it felt a lifetime ago. ] The functionality can be disabled once it proves unnecessary. Stay out of restricted areas, and don't try to tamper with the collar, and you'll never feel it.

Although you should know that's only the base level. There are five graduations in power, each more severe than the former. But considering you've shown you're able to correct your behavior when necessary, I'm sure you'll never experience those higher levels.

[ It's difficult to say whether her tone is mildly taunting or simply stating how she's watched him adapt over the weeks to his capture.

She sets the remote down and lightly crosses her arms, leaning a hip against the desk as she eyes him. Partly she's curious if he might try to strike out at her or otherwise act out. ]

[ telling him that everything will be fine so long as he stays out of restricted areas and doesn't tamper with the collar doesn't sit right with him. it feels like something too simple to be true. especially when there are multiple levels of shock, apparently.

what he wants to do is keep tampering with it, but he knows better than to do it in front of kylo. doing it as soon as she put it on was an impulsive mistake. ]

So... that's it? You'll let me walk around wherever, as long as it not the hangar or the bridge?

There's a few other areas I don't feel you need access to, but — [ She shrugs a shoulder. ] I think you can be allowed to roam a bit. To get some exercise and human interaction. [ Even if it's not much more than passing people in corridors and the like. No one's likely to suddenly just start chatting up what's essentially their leader's prized pet. ]

And if you prove that you can't handle that, then you'll just have to go back to confinement for a while. In a new room. I've decided to move you closer for... easier access.

[ Her lips twitch with self amusement, gaze skimming over him. Speaking of... ]

Take off your clothes. You're not going to need them.

[ he can't stop the scowl that crosses his face as she speaks. at everything she says, in general. her wording still makes him feel more like an animal than a person. (and he still doesn't like the idea of encountering anyone else, even if it would beat just staring at the ceiling waiting for the next meal. he already knows how most of the first order officers see him at this point. having it confirmed for them makes his stomach twist.)

"new room" doesn't make him feel any better, either. that said, he doesn't actually argue while starting to take off his clothes. he knows it's part of his wall being whittled down, but fighting has been exhausting. ]

What are you making me do now?

[ Though she feels the urge Kylo doesn't smirk in satisfaction when he doesn't so much as protest. Yes, yes it definitely feels like it's the right time for a few changes. She'll be curious to see how he takes to his new privileges. ]

Perhaps I want to see just how well you healed up.

[ Which she does, but it's unlikely to be the only reason for her demand.

Her eyes trail over him more slowly as she approaches, not lingering anywhere in particular. She comes close enough to touch but doesn't, at least not right away. Instead she walks around him, gaze seeking out where she recalls injuring him. It's then that a hand ghosts along his spine and she hums a soft sound that might be approval; others might have expected her to want to see scars or lingering effects of what she recently did to him, but that hadn't been the purpose of the torture. ]

Maybe I just want to admire what's mine. [ The words come as her hand slides over his ass and gives a light squeeze. ]

[ his jaw clenches again. he hasn't seen for himself what traces of her damage may or may not remain (faint scars, nothing that won't heal with more time). all he knows is that it doesn't hurt anymore, and that's enough for him at this point. the scars don't matter. they'll disappear and then be written over with fresh ones, over and over. at least, that's how it feels.

it was hard to not flinch from her touch. it was unclear, even to himself, if that was because he was expecting more pain or if it was because of who she was in the first place. a mix of both, most likely.

he'd tried to keep it to that. the flinching escaped him, but he'd hoped he could keep himself otherwise blank-faced while she assessed him like a piece of meat. unfortunately, his composure crumbles when she grabs at his ass. the action mixed with the words leave him with a shocked and sour expression. ]

I'm not -- [ the "i'm not yours" argument felt more difficult to back up while wearing an actual slave collar. the evidence to the contrary was crumpling up in front of him. ] I'm not yours. [ he says it anyway. ] Don't do that.

[ A brow arches at his protest — though she does note he doesn't try to brush off her hand or move away. The futile protest only makes her linger behind him, stepping in closer to Poe and lightly resting both hands on his hips. ]

Oh, but you are. [ she leans down to all but purr near his ear, her hands doing nothing but simply resting on his skin, almost as if daring him to push them away. ] You, Poe Dameron, former pride of the Resistance, belong to me now. And I will do whatever I desire with and to you.

Try and lie to yourself all you want but deep down you know it's true.

[ Kylo steps away then, dropping her hands and trailing her eyes down his backside like a caress. Perhaps he wasn't interested at the moment, but this was definitely a little bit of foreplay for her. Surely he would prefer this to her bloodying him again?

Heading into the adjoining bedroom (large, luxurious as one might expect for someone in her position, done up in blacks and charcoal and accents of red similar to how she redecorated the throne room), the lights coming on automatically at sensing someone in the room, she doesn't bother to glance Poe's way as she starts to disrobe. There's nowhere for him to go; this is her domain, if she were concerned about him being momentarily out of sight she would have had him bound. As she steps out of her boots so she can remove her pants she calls over her shoulder, ] Don't be shy now. I'll move you if I have to but I don't think you'd enjoy that.

[ it's true. he knows it's true and he hates it. no matter how he tries to argue and complain, it doesn't make it any less true. it is just that — ineffectual complaining.

maybe... maybe? maybe he should try to play the game. he could still "belong" to her and try to escape. maybe it would be easier. she was already letting him out of confinement.

and that's why... he says nothing. his face stays as it was, still soured, but no words come out. the closest thing to acceptance he'd give.

also: he still doesn't push her away. he forgot he could do that. he literally forgot that was a thing he could do until she's pressed against him, grabbing his hips. and by then, it's too late to do anything. she stepped away. beat him to the punch.

he reluctantly follows after her, trying to ignore the prickle of the air against his skin. however, he doesn't move any closer to approach her. he's standing in the bedroom, he did his part. and, anyway, ]

Where do you want me?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject