#general hux/reader

[noiriarti]

Inappropriate: Armitage Hux x Reader - Ch. 1

TW: nsfw stuff, mentions of Brendol Hux being an abusive father, mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of masturbation and sex.

Summary: Hux has to travel to Starkiller Base to check on construction. His favorite lieutenant comes with him, but these horrible, terribly inappropriate thoughts just won't stop.

[Ch. 1], Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4

Hux knew he had chosen the wrong career when he packed for the transport. Maybe if he was a radar technician, or a trooper, or some kind of farmer, this wouldn't be happening. He would be trapped on a transport with that stupid child, Ren, for over a full day. As if he wasn't capable enough to check in on the progress of Starkiller Base's construction on his own. As if Ren could do anything but swing a lightsaber. But, when Snoke said to go, what was he supposed to do? Complain like a child that he couldn't stand that long near Ren? Tell Snoke the idea of bringing a liability like Ren to the barely-wired Base was a bad idea? So, he went. But he didn't have to be happy about it.

Fuming, he finished packing two more crisp uniforms, his datapad, and a coat for the journey. He also counted the rotations until his retirement--12,045, to be exact, if he managed to survive that long--and wondered if there was any way he could kill Ren in his sleep, if the bastard even slept. By the time he had gotten to the Finalizer's hangar, he had decided poison would be best, and that he'd move to some penthouse in Coruscant, get 5 cats, and become some miserly old curmudgeon once he was done working.

The hangar was one of his favorite places, following the bridge, because it housed so much controlled chaos. Just like his precious bridge, it was carefully managed, teeming with droids and techs, always working, always awake. He liked the brightness of the lights in both places, keeping him up through the night cycles, always working away at his datapad. At least Mitaka would be on the mission, he figured, and he was tolerable. And punctual, he noted as he walked around their transport, given that he could see a pair of boots under the nose of the ship. As he rounded the front, he came face-to-face not with Mitaka, but with you.

Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. As was usual when it came to you, he was done for. You had served under him for two years as a Lieutenant, his best strategist even with his rose-colored glasses off. You two worked closely together, which had been just about killing him. These feelings, these stupid stupid thoughts, would nestle in his brain every time he let his guard down. What if he just brushed your hands together, working late one night on the bridge? What would it be like to kiss you? What would it feel like to have your nails down his-- he stopped himself. That was completely inappropriate. And something he would think about a lot more later. With that thought firmly lodged in his head, he just had to act like a human being long enough for Mitaka to arrive, then he could wash it away in the refresher.

"General!" You broke the silence with a smile and a wave. He had asked you to stop saluting when you saw him, partially because you saw each other so often, but mainly because it reminded him of the fact that he was your commanding officer, and that his little crush was inappropriate. So, so, inappropriate.

"Lieutenant," he said, pausing. Small talk. Small talk. Right. "What brings you to the hangar?" he asked. Real smooth, dumbass.

"I'm coming with you on the mission to Starkiller, sir. You requested a Lieutenant come along, and Mitaka is in the medbay for...injuries, so I'm filling in," you replied. It didn't need to be said that the injuries were caused by Kylo Ren. That was the only cause of injuries in the bridge, anyway.

Normally, he would be thrilled to have you replace Mitaka. You were much more enjoyable to be around, and you weren't one of the people who regularly faced Ren's wrath, so it worked out for him. Except for the fact that he would be spending twenty-four hours, there and back, with you. He could feel the blush climbing up his neck, and he tried to defuse it. You had been a couple of years below him in the Academy, you had been on plenty of missions with him, and you had worked late into the night right beside him plenty of times. He knew you. He wouldn't do anything stupid, like thinking about your time in the Academy, when he helped you study for exams in the library and he imagined what it would be like to make out against one of the shelves--he stopped himself again. This was really getting out of hand, and if he kept going down that road he'd get hard in the middle of the hangar.

"I hope Mitaka recovers well, and that his injuries are not severe. He is a good Lieutenant," he said, mentally kicking himself. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Yeah, Dopheld is pretty okay, just some scrapes. It was... avoidable." Despite your careful language, he knew what you were telling him. You had both harbored a dislike of Ren ever since he joined the Order, but, since he entered your orbits, both of you took issue with him. You, more because he hurt your colleagues. Hux, for obvious reasons. Regardless, you were both united in your general dislike of the Commander. 

The pilot stepped out of the ship, telling both of you that you could get on. He gestured for you to go first, out of some semblance of politeness. He kept his eyes pointedly on the back of your head and not your ass as he walked. Back. Of. The. Head. Your hair--he thought about your hair when it was loose, back in social events at the Academy or during balls, and how he had wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it, or tuck it behind your ear, or pull it--stars, he definitely needed a shower at this point.

As you entered the ship, he was unpleasantly surprised by how cramped it was, and the pilot showed you to your rooms. His was pretty standard fare: a bed, a refresher, a nightstand. At least it's not shared, he thought. He nodded at the pilot and set his bag down, taking off his coat and unceremoniously flopping it onto a nearby chair. He fished out his datapad and sent you a brief comm.

"Shall we meet in the lounge at 1800 for a briefing on the Base? We can also get dinner, if you would like." He typed the last part hurriedly, sending it before he could think better of it. That was normal, right? For work, right? He had 45 minutes to go cool off before he saw you again. Or, stars forbid, Ren.

Ren still hadn't made it onto the ship, and takeoff was in five minutes. Hux smiled to himself. Maybe there was hope that this mission could be fun after all. He was still, rather embarrassingly, flustered from your previous encounter. He shed his uniform quickly, getting to the refresher and turning on the water as cold as it would go. The ship started under his feet, engines whirring and coming to life as it prepared for takeoff. Hux braced himself against the walls of the shower, smiling even wider. 

Ren hadn't made it. There was just you and him, working on the ship for a full rotation. His brain immediately thought of ways to spend the time that were less than savory. Against the wall, for one. On the floor, on the bed. Maybe in the refresher? He leaned his forehead against the shower wall, willing those thoughts away as he felt himself harden. His hand instinctively went to his cock, and he drew in a halting breath. Not now.

This was going to be a hard, hard twenty-four hours.

AN: this has been banging around in my head for a while. man i love my armitage nice and awkward and pining. let me know what you think!!

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Headcanon/Preference # 37

Gifs NOT mine.

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 12 minutes

Year posted - 2025

So yeah I totally killed the reader off in this one... Wanted this one to be angsty. Enjoy.

----------------------------

• Obi-wan Kenobi •

• Obi-wan knew he shouldn't have let you join him on this particular mission.

• He knew something was off about this mission, he had sensed it in the Force.

• But he'd let you join regardless, and now you lay at his feet, bleeding out.

• He quickly dispatched of the enemy, and pulled you into his arms.

• "My love stay with me, you're going to be okay."

• He cradled your head in his free hand, trying desperately to assure you that everything will be okay.

• While also trying to fool himself into thinking you'll be able to pull through.

• As your breathing turned shallow, he kissed your forehead, smiling through the pain.

• He needed to be strong for you.

• And as your eyes fluttered closed, and your chest stilled, Obi-wan felt as if a part of himself had died with you.

• Only then did he allow himself to cry, and Obi-wan Kenobi was never the same.

• Becoming a shell of the man he once was, he eventually leaves the Jedi and roams the galaxy, feeling utterly lost without you by his side.

• Anikin Skywalker •

• Anikin thought he could protect you from anything.

• His one truest love, the one person he would have done anything for.

• This is the most dramatic turn of events for Anikin, the moment when he gave into the dark side.

• Cradling your lifeless body in his arms, Anikin screamed and cried.

• "You can't leave me (Y/n), you can't!"

• And with the aggressive flick of his wrist, he killed those that had taken you from him.

• He was merciless, unforgiving, and beyond angry.

• Anikin felt as if he'd died alongside you, and in many ways he did.

• Alone he laid you to rest.

• His once beautiful blue eyes turned to yellow as he watched you disappear from his life.

• Anikin felt as if your blood was on his hands, as if he failed to protect you.

• He also felt as if he failed you, because if you hadn't loved him as deeply as you did, maybe then you wouldn't have given your life for his.

• The day you died, was the very same day Darth Vader was born.

• Qui-Gon Jinn •

• Qui-Gon knew he shouldn't have grown attached to you, he knew it wouldn't end well.

• The rules about attachments, about love, were in place for this very reason.

• Quickly he took care of the man that had fatally wounded you, and held you close.

• Try as he might with the help of the force he attempted to heal your wounds, unable to do so he tried his best to be strong for you.

• He pecked your lips, and brushed back your hair.

• "You're going to be alright darling, just breath. That's it, just keep breathing."

• His hands shook as he placed his free hand over your wound, trying weakly to stop the bleeding.

• Again he tried using the Force to at least try to ease your pain, to make this easier for you.

• "Just relax my darling, we'll see eachother again."

• Qui-Gon promised you with a weak smile, his heart breaking at the sight of your own equally weak smile.

• His heart breaking further as he felt your breathing slow down considerably, the light in your eyes fading with every shallow breath.

• If there was anything Qui-Gon was grateful for, it was getting to hold you in his arms one last time.

• Darth Maul •

• Maul was foolish enough to think you were untouchable, that you were both untouchable.

• And his world crashed around him as you collapsed to the ground.

• Maul thought he knew pain, but all that he's been through, all that he's done. It was nothing compared to losing you.

• "You'll pay for this!"

• Maul growled at the man that was daring enough to hurt you.

• Ruthlessly he slashed at the man, cutting him limb from limb, and keeping him alive until he was satisfied.

• His rage blinded him, and only subsidied when he heard you wheezing in pain.

• "(Y/n) my star."

• Without another thought he dropped his saber, and rushed to your side, cradling you against his chest.

• He was unfazed by your blood seeping into his robes, firmly placing his hand against your wound, desperately trying to at least slow the bleeding.

• "I'll find you again my star, nothing can keep me from you, nothing."

• Maul promised as he rest his forehead against your own, the connection between you both through the Force, assuring him that he could keep that promise.

• He also swore to take down anyone and everyone that was involved in your demise, whoever that man worked for was as good as dead, and anyone else Maul deemed guilty.

• Maul will destroy worlds to avenge you if he must.

• He kept his eyes locked with yours as you slowly slipped away, his hearts thundering with heartache.

• "We will be together again."

• Maul promised before you gave your final breath, a rage filled scream escaping him as you died.

• And all who knew of Darth Maul, learned that after your demise, the Sith could be far crueler, far darker than he had been when you were still alive.

• Maul eventually turns to the traditions of the Zabrak, and finds a way to reunite with you through the magick of his people.

• It isn't enough, and it'll never be enough, because it is simply a ghost of you.

• But until his demise it is all he can manage, and he will accept that while he cannot hold you anymore, he can at least still see you and speak with you.

• Feral Opress •

• Feral is heartbroken beyond belief.

• You were the only truly good thing in his life, you were his and he was yours.

• Savage had witnessed the whole thing unfold, and for the sake of his brother, he struck down the man that dared to harm you.

• Feral wasn't sure what to do, so he acted on instinct, and laid beside you, pulling you into his arms.

• You had once said laying in his embrace was your favorite thing, the thing that brought you the most comfort.

• And he knew that's all he could do for you, comfort you as you slowly succumbed to your wounds.

• "Sh sh my sweet, just relax, I'm here, I've got you."

• He brushed your hair back in a soothing way, ignoring how much it hurt him to feel your blood painting his skin.

• He peppered kisses across your paling face, his hearts breaking with every kiss.

• You giggled in a pitiful way, coughing a moment later, blood oozed from your mouth.

• And Feral, delicately, lovingly wiped it away.

• "It's okay my sweet, look at me."

• His lip quivered a little as your glossy eyes peered into his own.

• "I love you, don't you ever forget that."

• He pecked your lips, tears escaping him when your final breath wheezed out from your lungs.

• Savage Opress •

• Savage instantly saw red, his hearts filled with rage, and regret.

• He ripped the man who hurt you limb from limb with his bare hands. The man's blood only cooling his temper a little.

• Dropping the carcass carelessly to the ground, he rushed back to your side, and as gently as he could he picked you up and cradled you against his chest.

• With you in his arms, Savage walked carefully across the tundra of the desolate planet you were on, unable, unwilling to just leave you on this wasteland of a planet.

• "Oh little one, my sweet stupid girl. You should have just let me handle him."

• He meant well, he really did. But he was hurt that you would do something so reckless, so selfless.

• You had once promised him forever.

• You giggled weakly, reaching up to caress his handsome face. And Savage melted into your touch.

• His hearts broke, knowing he couldn't save you, not this time.

• His blazing eyes locked onto your pale face, he wanted to commit your face to memory, despite the fact that he already has every part of you committed to memory.

• "I'll see you again little one, through the magick, the Force, I will see you again."

• He promised as he cradled you close, the chill of your skin finally breaking his resolve.

• Savage cried as he held you close, falling to his knees as you struggled to breathe.

• He grew darker that day, much darker. Swearing to fight to the bitter end, until he could be reunited with you once more.

• Kylo Ren •

• The moment you collapsed before his eyes, Kylo felt as if he would die alongside you.

• With a rage filled cry, Kylo cut down the man that hurt you, and threw the rest over a nearby cliff with the Force.

• He fell to his knees beside you, watching helplessly as your blood stained the snow around you.

• "Starlight what have you done?"

• He breathed out as he pulled you into his arms, tears of heartache and rage streaming down his face, his helmet long since abandoned.

• "I couldn't- couldn't let you get hurt."

• You had wheezed out, desperately clutching the deep gash at your side. Kylo's hand rest over yours, desperately hoping to stop the bleeding.

• "I can't live without you."

• Kylo whispered in a broken voice, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

• He squeezed you tighter, as you grew colder and colder in his arms.

• "Don't leave me, please, I can't go on without you."

• Kylo shook in his sorrow and rage, as your breathing became shallow.

• Despite the fact that you were literally dying, you still tried to comfort him, brushing his hair back weakly, your blood staining his pale skin.

• This only served to break his heart further, how can he possibly go on without you?

• Kylo is the most likely to rage an all out war, in hopes of getting himself killed so he could be reunited with you.

• But that's not to say he won't fight to the bitter end.

• Armitage Hux •

• It took everything in Armitage to stay standing, to not collapse and cradle you in his arms.

• If he had done so, he knew your sacrifice would have been in vain.

• But the moment the man is killed by his troopers, he's falling to his knees and pulling you into his arms.

• "GET A MEDICAL DROID NOW!"

• He barks at his men, who rush to follow out his order.

• But it's too late, your once bright eyes are dull and lifeless, having died on impact.

• That doesn't stop Armitage from deluding himself into thinking you'll be okay.

• He's crying, and begging you to wake up, but you don't respond to any of his attempts to stir you.

• "Please angel, wake up, come on."

• He's shaking you, kissing you, and eventually in his desperation he's beating on your chest in an attempt to get your heart pumping again.

• By the time a medical droid comes, he refuses to let you go. His troopers eventually have to tear him away from your body.

• He's kicking and screaming, red in the face as he fights them. But it's no good, they are to strong.

• Armitage has to control himself during your funeral, every instinct in him screaming to not let you go, to fight to bring you back.

• He is much harsher after this, starting arguments more and more with Kylo, and taking every ounce of pain when Kylo throws him across the room with the Force, as if he deserves to be punished.

• He's even trying to goad Kylo into killing him, but the man has a little more restraint than the General had thought.

• Armitage is the most likely to give into his dark depressive thoughts, and take his own life.

• His final thoughts are of you and you alone.

• General Grievous •

• You were his most prized "possession" so to speak, nothing in all of the galaxy meant as much to Grievous as you did.

• "My treasure, no you can't do this, you can't leave me I forbid it!"

• He's killed the man before you even hit the ground, where you lay for mere moments before he's cradling you in his arms.

• He's gentle with you, as he quite literally sprints you to the nearest medical bay.

• "Get out all of you!"

• He barks at the droids, not trusting them to fix what cannot be undone. Certain that he'll be able to save you.

• He's frantic in his attempts to patch you up, almost unaware of the way you gently touch his arm.

• Grievous froze in an instant when you weakly called out his name, his attention now solely on your face, cupping your hand in two of his.

• "What do you need treasure?"

• He asked in a soft voice, ignoring how his voice shook with emotion.

• You simply smiled at him, as if taking in the sight of him was all you cared about in that moment.

• "I-I lo-ve-"

• You tried croaking out, only for your breath to be stolen as you slipped away, dying before his very eyes, trying to declare your love one last time.

• The very ground shook with his scream of despair and heart retching agony.

• From that moment on he took out every ounce of pain and anger at losing you on anyone he deemed a threat.

• Sometimes even on innocent people, who would unknowingly remind him of you.

• He fought dirty and ruthlessly, uncaring if he would get himself killed, or if he would even succeed.

• Grievous also travelled far and wide across the galaxy in an attempt to find some way to bring you back to life.

• He cared not for whatever it might cost, or what he might have to do, who he would have to kill.

• If there is a way he can bring you back, he'll find a way, not matter how long it takes.

----------------------------

[skyw4lkerken0bi]

Oh he’s MEAN when he fucks you,

He fucks you like he hates you, having you bent over in doggy. your lovers large hand gripping your hip while the other presses down on your back, deepening your arch to the point you KNOW you’ll be hurting tomorrow. His gaze locked in on where you two are connected, groaning when he sees the white ring forming around the base of his cock. He’s already ripped four orgasms out of you, knowing he won’t stop until you’re a trembling, mumbling mess. Once he’s got you how he wants you, he’ll wrap his arm under you, rolling and pinching your clit between his fingers, letting out a chuckle when you cry out, right before squirting all over his hand and the sheets below you…

Darth Maul, Anakin, Kylo Ren, General Hux

[starlightsearches]

Just a Matter of Time

Armitage Hux x wife! reader

AN: We've got even more marriage AU, my friends!! We're going a bit out of order now—I'm working on a different piece about Hux's first time with his wife, but it's giving me a little bit of trouble. I wrote this one for funsies because I'm obsessed with the idea of these two exploring sex and intimacy together. Let me know what you think, please! Comments, likes and reblogs are my favorites!!

Warnings: 18+ only (no minors), piv sex, unprotected sex (raw. next question), brief discussion of protection, partially-clothed sex, pulling out, cum, semi-public sex, titty sucking, language, and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything!

Armitage checks his reflection in the gleaming surface of a tie fighter and cringes internally. Just as he suspected. The shame is clear on his face.

Luckily there’s not many around to see it. It’s late in the night cycle, and this hangar receives less traffic than the others—usually reserved for small ships on diplomatic missions, or officers choosing to take their leave planet-side.

That’s why Armitage is here now.

Hux can’t imagine what would possess someone to willingly attend any of those noxious nightclubs on Canto Bight, and yet you had been endlessly thrilled when you received the invitation from a group of officers you had tentatively befriended. The prospect was exciting to you, and, regardless of his own opinions, Armitage was grateful for anything that allowed him to bask in the warmth of your delight.

Even if the thought of your going had his stomach tied in knots.

You had spent the evening getting ready, and Armitage had hung around in your shared quarters, making poor attempts to look busy: tapping away stupidly on his data pad as you rushed from your closet to the refresher, slipping in and out of every pair of shoes you own, covering yourself with glitters and fine-smelling perfumes.

He should have expected it, of course. The dresses you wear daily, while beautiful and elegant, would look out of place where you were going. And still, his heart had stuttered in his chest at the sight of so much skin—your legs stretching long from the hem of a very short skirt, hugging tight to the curve of your hips, the neckline that dipped low over the center of your breasts, held up by the flimsiest of straps.

Oh, fuck.

“How do I look?” you had asked, and it was clear to Armitage that you were in need of reassurance, shifting from foot to foot, fingers twisting together. 

His dry-mouthed response to your question had left much to be desired, and yet you had hardly noticed, so preoccupied with your own nerves that you couldn’t see the ways your husband had lost himself—about to drop to his knees in desperation and bury his face against your thighs.

Armitage caught you by the arm, instead, your skin bare and warm beneath his hand. Despite all the ways he’s held and felt you, touching you like this—so casually—still had his heart beating at a strenuous pace. 

“Per- perhaps,”Armitage had stuttered out the word, and regretted it, starting again, “perhaps I should accompany you, as well.”

That had made you laugh, which at least made his idiocy worth it. Your nose had wrinkled pleasantly, your feet carrying you a step closer, bringing him nearer to the magnetic field of you as you looked up at him with soft eyes.

“Why?”

A fair question—and one Armitage had no answer for. It would cause all kinds of discomfort and embarrassment, and yet the need was there, the desire. Armitage wanted to be there with you, not only so he could deal with anyone who glanced in your direction with less-than-chaste intentions, but so they could see him beside you. Could watch the way you wanted him, reached for him over anyone else. 

“For your . . . protection.”

You had rolled your eyes, pressing your fingers playfully against his chest. “It’s not an active war zone, general. Besides, Phasma will be there.”

Ah, yes. That had been his one concession, although he never mentioned it to you, letting her presence on your little excursion appear as natural as possible. Phasma would certainly keep you safe, and his reasonable ground was slipping. If it had continued, he would have ended up begging you to stay with him with the hopes you might call him general like that again.

And now he’s puttering around an empty hangar, making more work for himself and waiting for your return like a love-sick pup. 

Armitage’s patience, or desperation, is rewarded, though. His mental pacing is interrupted before too long by the whir of an approaching ship.

He watches the landing from a distance, straightening his posture and keeping his brow stern as the others unload from the transport, waiting for you to emerge.

His eyes catch on a glimmer of rich fabric, and a breath punches from his lungs when he sees the rest of you—a little more disheveled from the journey, but alive and in one piece. How is it possible you look even lovelier now than you did in his feeble memory?

Armitage’s heart crumples in his chest when you meet his eyes and smile.

There’s a few slurred goodbyes as you part from the group—and a cloud of noise following the officers as they stumble down the hallway in pairs or groups of three, arms slung around each other to keep the most inebriated from falling. 

You seem clear-eyed, though, as you approach Armitage, and steady on your feet. The even tempo of your heels against the floor echoes through the hangar, and his chest.

“Hello, general,” you greet him, meeting his eyes through your lashes, “were you waiting for me?”

Of course he had been, but it seems shameful to admit it, and so he stumbles into a lie, instead. 

“Only to make sure you arrived back safely,” Armitage claims, “are you feeling . . . well?”

Your laugh is quiet, but the melody of it rings in his ears when you press a hand against his chest. Armitage resists the urge to glance around, to check for some disapproving glare or whispered conversation outside his line of sight. There’s no one around, really—a few technicians working on a busted tie-fighter on the other side of the hangar out of sight, some mouse droids zipping past, but no audience to this contact that seems wholly inappropriate in public.

And still you’re smiling that same secret smile. “I haven’t been drinking, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Ah,” Armitage replies, rather stupidly, but it can’t be helped with the way your fingers shift, circling around his bicep, stroking over the fabric of his greatcoat, “that’s—why?”

There’s a gentle frown on your lips. Armitage resists the urge to brush it away with a kiss. 

“Because you won’t touch me if I’ve been drinking.”

Oh. 

There’s so much in that statement that Armitage will need to parse through later—the pouty tone in your voice and the way it stokes the fire in his chest, your strange exasperation with his concern for your unhindered consent.

But in this moment, there’s only one realization on your husband’s mind: you want him to touch you. 

Fuck. If only he had known. Armitage would have used his time more wisely, wouldn’t have spent so much of it pining for your return, dreaming of the sight of your legs in that skirt again, hoping he might feel the swell of your breast through his sleeve as you clung to his arm on the walk back to your quarters. He would have used it to his greatest advantage: fulfilling deadlines, creating plans, responding to missives, and he would have done the work happily—all with the motivation of your weight in his lap and your lips at his neck for as long as he could convince you to stay.

Armitage mentally tabulates the time it would take to return with you to his quarters, to lay you down on his bed and touch you the way you had asked, the way he craves. And there’s simply not enough for that and for the tasks he was supposed to already have completed before he must return to the bridge. 

“I— I don’t think,” Armitage begins, even with all the ways you make his refusal difficult—the sensual warmth of you through his uniform, your teeth absentmindedly gnawing on your plush lower lip, “there’s so much to— it’s . . . unavoidable.” 

He finishes the smattering of words with a pathetic little gasp as you bring your body even closer, his blood thrumming through his veins at the contact, cock growing stiff in his trousers. 

There are no words at your lips, no hit of a frown. Armitage watches as your gaze shifts, landing deliberately on the transport you had just vacated. 

Your eyes meet his again. The message is clear. 

Oh. No. 

“We couldn’t.”

That’s what Armitage tells you, but the voice in his head speaks much louder. He could. He wants to. He’s not sure if he can resist. 

“No one will know,” you whisper through a smile.

Technically true—but Armitage is aware of the security cams, positioned around the large hangar and monitored always. He had watched the footage himself only a few hours ago as you left, and so he knows exactly what would be seen: his hand in yours, the look of incredulous panic on his face as you led him into the mouth of the transport before you both disappeared from view. That is, if the heat of his blush didn’t scramble the feeds. 

Maybe no one would know, but someone might assume. And given the number of incorrigible gossips on this ship, they would certainly tell, and that message would spread, uncontained.

But Armitage finds he is not as opposed to the idea as he thought he would be.

“Yes, but . . .” it’s so like Armitage, arguing against his own interests, denying himself something he wants so desperately for reasons even he can’t understand, “what if someone were to . . .”

You interrupt before he can finish the thought, your other hand sneaking it’s way up to the back of his neck, your warm skin pressed to his. “The entrances all lock.”

How long had you been considering something like this? That alone could break down his resolve. Armitage might be able to keep himself from those distant pleasures, but not you. Never you.

And yet his hesitation has sent a different message. There’s an almost imperceptible shift in your demeanor—a half step you take away from him, the uncertain tremor in all those points of contact he had been enjoying only moments ago.

“But you have work to do, of course,” you concede, “if you don’t want—”

Fear strikes Armitage in the chest at the way you turn from him. He’s disappointed you, and worse, he’s made you feel unwanted. The shame floods through him, momentarily overwhelming his desire.

He might be too eager when he reaches for your hand, fingers circling around your wrist to keep you in place.

 “I do,” he tells you. Armitage wants. He hopes you can feel it, past all his failures and idiosyncrasies. You must know how desperately he wants you, in every moment. Always. 

His thumb traces over the veins in the back of your hand, relishes the way you tremble. Your lips part with a pop, expression unsure, and your eyes search his face the same way Armitage watches yours. 

“Really?” 

Against any better judgement, your husband nods. 

And it’s all a blur for the next few moments—just your hushed laughter and the blood flooding his cheeks taking up all his thoughts. He imagines the scene from someone else’s perspective: an onlooker, brimming with skepticism as you pull him eagerly across the hangar. He’s sure they would find the situation as unbelievable as Armitage does.

Once you are alone—the mechanical whir of the locks assuring it—Armitage regains some command of himself, pulling into you. Your body is soft against his, your touch eager as you push the heavy fabric of his greatcoat off his shoulders. Armitage lets it fall to the ground with a thud, then reaches for you as soon as it's gone—tracing the slope of your hips, pressing you further against the durasteel until your spine bows and the only thing he can feel between the two of you is your heartbeat. 

You kiss him, messily, eager, little giggles slipping out with each breath you take at this moment of rebellion and Armitage drinks your laughter in heavy gulps, kissing you back with fervor. Each encounter has brought him additional confidence, and seems to have given you more of the same—no longer hesitant in asking for what you want.  

One of your hands snakes down the length of his chest; Armitage burns in its wake, unable to take any air in when your fingers trace over the outline of his aching cock.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slips out before Hux can stop it. He shouldn’t speak so coarsely in front of you—in front of his wife—and yet you don’t pull away, your hand cupping his length more fully as you slide your tongue between his lips. 

Armitage will finish right now if he’s not careful. It takes so little from you—your hot breath and curious touches—to have him right on the edge, ready to spill into his trousers. He can’t have that.

And so, with one swift movement, he pins your hands out of the way, pressing his knuckles against the wall as he grips at your wrists like a vise.

He doesn’t have any time to waste. Not if he wants to feel you coming around him in the next few minutes. 

Armitage takes in the heady scent of you as he traces the length of your jaw with his nose, parts his lips around the stretched expanse of your neck. His tongue follows, picking up the taste of your skin. There’s the tang of salt and the chemical flavor of perfume, and beneath that, something lighter, more refined.

He travels lower, kissing at the juncture just above your collarbone, feels your pulse jump against his tongue, and sinks his teeth into your plush skin until he hears you whine, your hot breath feathering through his hair. 

Perfect. 

Armitage continues to taste you as he shifts his grip, trapping both of your wrists in the grasp of one hand. He lets the other explore as it traverses over the dips and curves of your body before brushing the strap from off your shoulder, slipping the neckline down until he can cup at your exposed breast. 

Your nipple pebbles pleasantly in the cool air of the transport. Armitage watches, transfixed for a moment, and then takes the bud into the warmth of his mouth.

The transport echoes with the sound of your high-pitched breaths, a few moans when Hux lets the flat of his tongue travel over the stiff peak while his hand slips up between your thighs, petting at the swollen ridge of your clit.

You gasp his name, pulling at his hold on you with desperation that still surprises him, despite everything. 

There’s a part of him—a little cruel, incredibly curious—that wants to keep you like this. Wants to see how close he can bring you to the edge when you have no chance to retaliate. The thought ignites something in him. Armitage would like to hear you, tear-soaked, begging for him until his resolve finally broke. 

Pity there’s so little time.

So he relents, loosening his grip, and you’re on him again before he can recover his bearings—your nails carding through his hair and your mouth fierce against his own and the press of your warm, soft body. Armitage lets his weight cage you in, holding you tighter against the wall behind you, his hands cupping at the swell of your ass until your body is flush with his, the hot press of his cock jutting against your stomach. 

You groan, needy, and you once again drop one of your hands, slipping the fastening of his trousers out of the way, fingers just barely dipping past the band at his waist, nails dragging against his skin. 

Armitage feels his desire in the backs of his thighs, coiling at the base of his spine, flooding his lungs—that strange singing sting that has his teeth bared, chest shuddering with rapid breaths. He wants to give into it, to fuck into you with rabid strokes, wants to feel you unravel around him as you spill moan after moan into his gloved palm.

Just as your fingertips meet the head of his dick, he’s interrupted by a frustrating oversight.

“I don’t,” he grunts out the words, pulling away from you, despite the pain it causes, “I don’t have any . . . protection.”

Armitage digs his knuckles into the durasteel behind you, lets his irritation manifest itself in the ache that blooms through his hand. He never would have assumed something like this would happen, but he should have been prepared, regardless. He’d been so careful elsewhere—quietly maintaining the stock in his quarters and, shamefully, his office, although the need for it had felt like a distant fantasy at the time. 

You meet his eyes, and he knows that the full meaning of what he’s said is beyond your understanding—something he, once again, is to blame for. Conversations around his insistence on protection had been limited, and Armitage considered it his sole responsibility for moments like these.

“Oh,” you respond, and there’s a tinge of heartbreak in your voice, “should we . . .”

Stop? Armitage knows what you’re going to say, and can’t bear to hear it. He won’t even let the word broach your lips, kissing you deeper, more fully than he had previously allowed. You accept this answer without question, like you had accepted so many others—things about Armitage you had never even considered could be denied. 

He lets rationality take over for just a moment, lets it ground him. Armitage pulls away slightly, breathing deeply and doing his best to ignore the wet shine of your lips, the strings of your spit that tremble and break in the space between you.

He won’t last long, not if he’s looking at you. Watching your eyes roll back, feeling your lips tremble against his with unrestrained moans—it would have him spilling inside you before the moment had truly begun. So Armitage takes your hips in both his hands, guides you gently to face away from him.

Armitage can’t remember a time where he’s felt like this—so desperate for gratification, his vision blurry and lungs heaving, on the edge of tears for the need of it. Your head lolls back against his shoulder as he takes the hem of your skirt in both hands, pulling it up over the swell of your ass. There’s a soft sound, like seams popping, but it’s barely audible over the groan that escapes him at the sight of your soft skin, the way it indents against the harsh press of his hips. 

He frees his cock, gives his length a preliminary stroke. It’s not necessary—he’s more than hard enough for you, blood throbbing at the feeling of your wet folds against his leather-covered fingers as his other hand peels back the sticky lace.

Your husband breathes, steeling himself as he slips his cock between your thighs, wetting his length as it brushes against your slick and eager folds. A moan breaks through your lips when the head of him nudges against your clit, and he repeats the movement again just to soak in the sound.

“Are you ready for me?”  Armitage asks, his whispered breath hot against the shell of your ear. You nod in response, and he feels your lips against his neck, forming the word yes.

He slips the tip of his cock back toward your entrance, presses gently until your body opens for him, head buried inside the inviting heat. The grip of your walls tightens around him, and Armitage grunts, pressing forward—slowly as he can manage before wrapping one arm around your waist. He braces the other against the durasteel to mitigate the press of his weight as he begins to thrust. 

Your body welcomes him, as it always has, taking him so perfectly for every inch he gives you. It feels different, without the thin barrier Armitage had become accustomed to. The already intense sensation is multiplied to a dangerous degree—the warmth, the soft grip of your cunt. He pauses once he’s fully seated, breathing in the scent of your hair and perfume, soaking in the feeling of you, of your presence, of your want.

Wants he’s not fulfilling. Your hips press back against his in desperation, breathing out his name. 

“Armitage, please.”

The movements are automatic—Armitage is so adverse to denying you anything in this moment that his body responds without thought, his hips shifting against yours immediately. He starts slowly, but that tempo only lasts so long, and the transport fills with the measured beat of his hips against yours, and the wet squelch of your cunt and those soft, alluring moans. 

One of your hands reaches back, cupping at his neck, fingers grazing through the soft hairs there. Armitage feels your head tip against his shoulder, feels your damp breath against his flushed skin. 

And under normal circumstances, your husband would hate to rush you, would let you find your release gently and on your own terms. But Armitage is too close, and has to be careful his end doesn’t sneak up on him. So he drops his grip from your waist, slipping two fingers against your clit. The pressure of his hand has you shaking in his grasp, but he doesn’t relent, circling the little bud with an even tempo, matching the pace of his thrusts until he feels the tell-tale clench of your cunt around his cock, the flood of heat and the weakness in your legs that has your husband supporting most of your weight as you let the pleasure take you.

Armitage barely has the sense about him to slip out of you before the shocks find him, his cock throbbing and his mind a dizzying mess as he spills his seed . . . right onto the magnificent skirt bunched up around your waist.

Your gaze finds his over your shoulder before you’ve even caught your breath, slipping the garment back down over your hips, assessing the damage before leveling him with an accusatory stare.

“This was new.”

Your admonishment only serves to make him laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a prideful smirk as he admires the slow drip of his cum down the fabric. Armitage presses his forehead to yours, and your demeanor changes, brows pleading, your lips searching for his.

“I’ll get you another,” he promises. Armitage would buy you a thousand just like it, if he could mar some of them in the same way. He hears no protest from you when he presses a kiss to your waiting mouth. 

There’s a gentle shuffle as Armitage rights his uniform, erases any trace of this little dalliance from his appearance. There’s no such ease for you though. 

“I can’t make it back to our quarters like this,” you whisper against his mouth, a hint of a smile at the corners. 

That is certainly true. If he had thought people would talk before—with only the security footage of your path to the transport—the sight of you now would cause a riot.

But the transport is frustratingly low on supplies that might help in this situation. Armitage searches the space with an analytical eye, and finds only one solution: his greatcoat, in a heap on the floor.

Armitage lifts the heavy garment, holds it out for you, and finds his cheeks heating with a blush when you slide your arms inside the sleeves.

Oh. It doesn’t fit you well—the coat was made for him, and it shows in the gaps at the shoulders, the way the hem rests a little too close to the ground. And still, Armitage’s heart races when you pull the front of it closed around your body like a blanket, finding comfort in something that is so ostensibly his.

“How do I look?” you ask the question for the second time that night, and once again, Armitage is at a loss for words. There’s no need for it, though, not when he can hold you in his arms, assure you with a few gentle kisses. 

Your goodbyes are short, but no less full of longing. Armitage watches your form as it disappears into the distance and feels his heart as it thuds heavily in his chest with each sway of your hips. The desire to follow you almost overwhelms him.

Well. At least he has plenty of motivation to finish his work now.

[pieisstillgood]

𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐 Defying the First Order 𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Summary: You're a member of the resistance taken captive by General Hux. His ship crashes leaving you stranded on a strange planet together.

Author's note: I will also be uploading my fics on Ao3 if you prefer to read there. I upload there after I upload here, I will include a link once it is up there. I hope ya'll enjoy <3

☆Here is the link to it on Ao3☆

Content warning: smut, p in v

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

We ran out of water a few days ago. The only reason he shared what little he had with me was so he didn't have to drag around dead weight. I've been stuck on a forest planet with one General Hux handcuffed to my left hand for days now. The chain connecting us must've been made for some giant beast because it drags against the floor if we are not standing far enough apart. Apparently, he didn't want me running off. Most of his time is spent glaring at me and grumbling disagreements with every decision that has been made since we crashed. "We should be staying with the ship, waiting for rescue" His ever-present annoyance makes itself evident with his continued whining; he tramples his way through the flora, making sure every creature around can hear his privilege in every footstep. "Do you want to die of dehydration?" I finally turn toward him, no longer dragging him behind but glaring at him from my disadvantaged height.

"Your rescue isn't coming, at least not anytime soon" He fails to comprehend that his rescue means my ruin, and I can not stand idly by while my downfall grows ever near. He was getting mad too, this whole venture had just been silence and yelling taking turns filling the air between us. "So what? We wander the woods aimlessly till we find water?" I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. How dumb does this guy think I am? "No dumbass, unlike you, I have a handful of survival skills. We're following the moss" If he wasn't looking at me like I'm crazy before, he sure is now. "The moss... We're following... the moss." His pissed tone transitioned nicely to a sarcastic one. It was apparent that he didn't believe a word I was saying and probably thought I was trying to waste his time and energy. This is partially true, but I really do want to find water, and following the direction of moss is the best way I can think of.

He stepped so close to me that our faces were a breath apart. We've both been very easy to aggravate since we ran out of water. I try to force him away from me to re-form what little space possible with our current situation. But he takes my light shove as a sign of aggression and grabs my wrist hard. He pushes me and drives my back against a nearby tree. I can feel the roughness of the barks through my clothes from the amount of pressure he uses to pin me between his body and the tree. "Fuck off Red" I bite back.

His anger is now only visible from the tension in the air and the strain on my wrist he has yet to release. His face holds a calm and cold expression I can't read. I try to squirm out of his grasp but he only leans against me harder. His head lowers to my ear as he practically whispers "You should show more respect towards your betters" Smugness coating his voice.

Heat overtakes me, from the anger boiling under my skin to the warmth of his body pressed against mine. There are other feelings present, that I don't want to think about or admit. He may be hot as hell, but he is still the enemy. To think about how damn alluring I find him, or how his scent takes over my senses whenever he is near, is a betrayal of my home and the rebellion.

Speaking of smells. I smelled it before I heard it; sniffing the air a few times to make sure my mind wasn't playing tricks. He looks at me strangely but loosens his grip on me when he notices my attention is elsewhere. I can smell the moisture in the air, and hear the soft sound of a stream. I pick up my pace, dragging him behind me the best I can to the source of my excitement. The long chain connecting us helped.

I come face to face with a cliffside. There is a slight alcove with a steady stream of water rolling from the top of the cliff to disappear on the floor of the rocky nook. All too suddenly I am jolted backward from a hard tug on the long chain connecting us. Hux pulled me close with a hard look in his eyes that told me all he wanted to say. 'Me first, rebel scum' He walked with purpose past me. Oh fuck no. I grab the chain with both hands and yank it as hard as possible. He stumbles backward as I take the opportunity to sprint towards the water.

I feel tension against the chain before slamming against the ground. My side hits the dirt as my chained hand falls above my head. I roll onto my back and let out a low pained groan. The sun above me shines bright and blinding. Hux's shadow drifts over me as he strolls over. The reprieve from the sun's light was almost welcomed if it didn't come from him. He holds a smug smirk as he looks down at me and my resentful expression. "I hope you know how much I hate you" I grumble out as I glare up at him. "The feeling is mutual" He states flatly before making his way to the stream. I push myself off of the ground before following after.

He practically drags me forward, his focus is solely on the source of water. I have to stand and watch as he points his head high and drinks from the only nearby water source; his Adam's apple is prominent with water cascading down his face and neck. He closes his eyes as he drinks; a slight moan of relief passes his lips. Once he had his full he washed his face and wet his hair. Slicking it back in one swoop. The sight was almost... appealing.

Too bad there's an obnoxious prick beneath the nice view. He opens his eyes to immediate eye contact with me. Without a word he slowly moved away from the stream, still close enough that the chain dragged on the floor. I turn my back towards him as I raise my hands to the water.

I repeat his action with a few slight differences. I faced away from him and actively stopped myself from recreating his moan of relief with my own. The second one was hard, it had been too long since I had had water, my lips were chapped and my throat dry. I could feel them absorbing the moisture and alleviating my troubles. Most of my troubles anyway; they cured my physical headache caused by dehydration, but I am still left with the walking talking headache chained to my non-dominant hand.

I hear a sound. Rustling from the woods. Our heads whip in its direction and our bodies make the space between us disappear. Our odds are better together after all. The rustling stops but my fear of what could be lurking stays. "Thoughts on staying here for a while?" I broach the ever-present subject in the air "I hate when I find myself agreeing with you" Contradictory to his words, his voice seemed to lack its usual hateful tone. 

We sit in the alcove, which is too shallow to call a proper cave system; it is more like an indentation that leads nowhere. However, it is spacious enough for us to sit on opposite sides of the cave with the chain pulled taut between us. We sit there in silence for a while, which is how we spent most of our time on this desolate planet; each of us too stubborn to speak to the other about anything other than our mutual disdain.

As time passes he gets more fidgety. His impatience is evident in the way he wrings his hands and bounces his leg. I watch from the corner of my eye as he stands and paces back and forth. "Could you not?" My annoyed tone cuts through the once-quiet cave. Stopping in his tracks he whips his head to glower in my direction. "We are wasting daylight sitting around in this dirt hole." He rages through gritted teeth. I roll my eyes at his anger. "You lack patience. We don't know the kind of creatures that live here, and if we leave too soon we might end up it's feast." I am completely disinterested in explaining to this grown man why it would be a bad idea to trek through these unfamiliar woods with nothing on our person to defend ourselves against an animal we definitely heard rummaging out there.

He storms closer, looming over my person and invading my personal space. "We've waited long enough! We must get back to the ship before the sun sets!" It is almost amusing that he keeps referring to that glorified hunk of scrap metal as a ship. I am still of the opinion that we need to give it more time before we can be confident that whatever is out there has moved on. I don't even look at him when I reply, the rocky walls of the cave somehow being more entertaining. "Give it a moment more time"

Suddenly he pulls me up from my position on the floor, his fists full of my bunched-up shirt. "No more waiting we are leaving!" His grip on me is tight as he pulls me close to better shout at me. I practically have to lean back to keep our noses from touching. "I am not going out there just to be eaten, because you can't get your nerves in check!" My voice raises as we glare at each other.  "It wasn't a request" Who does he think he is to order me around?!  "Good luck trying to make me comply with any demand you give" There's a strong tension in the air as we stare daggers of contempt into each other. His hands have yet to leave my shirt, still holding me close. I can feel his breath tickling my face.

Unexpectedly, the tension in the air changes to something much thicker. My breath gets caught in my throat. Why is he looking at me like that? His eyes drift down to my lips; I'm caught wondering if he kissed me would I let him? I don't have time to fully ponder as he pulls me in hard, crashing us together hungrily. He takes a step forward, forcing me to take a step back, continuing until my back is flush against the rough wall of the cave.

I was raised in war. I've killed in the name of the Resistance. And yet my heart races when his lips are against mine, his hips grinding into mine as our groans get swallowed by the collision of our mouths. While we messily clash together his hands go for my pants and begin to undo them. I help him pull them from my overheating skin, discarding them across the cave. His hands find their place squeezing my ass before lifting me off the ground; my legs wrap around his waist, making the friction between us even more satisfying. 

My hands snake down from their position around his neck to his bucking hips. The bruising kiss breaks as we pant for air. My hands busy themselves by undoing his belt, then his pants all together. His lips return to work, this time on the crook of my neck. He sucks, bites, and licks my skin while I take his girth into my hand. He lets out a low muffled rumble into me at the sensation.

I pump his length and message its sensitive head a few times the creamy moisture leaking from the tip being used as a lubricant. I use my other hand to pull my soaking undergarments to the side as I rub him against me. The general's lips roam higher on my neck and begin to leave bruising kisses against the pressure point below my ear. His groans are like music to my ears. With a thrust of his hips, he enters me unceremoniously causing me great discomfort. The pain turns to pleasure as he slowly rocks back and forth inside me.

My legs squeeze around him, telling him to pick up the pace. I look at his face for the first time since we started all this. His eyes hold a piercing, burning focus in them; sweat beads across his forehead as he pushes ruthlessly deeper into me. My hands go to cup his face, a hand pushing his once pristine hair out of his face. The shared look between us is so intense, it's more intimate than him plunging himself into me as his nails dig into my ass. I break the eye contact by grabbing the nape of his neck and pulling his lips back onto mine. His teeth nipping at my bottom lip we devour each other. 

  My other hand snakes between our colliding bodies, lowering itself to pleasure myself fully. I can feel my release building rapidly as my body tenses. My legs start to shake and our breathing becomes cumbersome. I can feel him shake slightly, his groans becoming more prevalent and his pace quickening with urgency.

He throws his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he loudly moans out into the air. He continues to thrust into me as he rides out his orgasm and brings me to mine. I bite my lip hard as I try to muffle my exclamations. My walls clenched down around his dick, milking it for all its worth. We pant for a moment and a moment only as he pulls himself from me swiftly, making as much space between us as possible. I hurriedly have to get my feet under me as he pushes me off of him. Regret no doubt consumes us both at this moment.

We gather and clean ourselves hastily to get what just happened as far into the past as it can go. What was he thinking? What was I thinking? He is my enemy for a reason and I can't forget it now. More than anything I am pissed at him for kissing me, fucking me, then acting like I am the most repulsive thing on this disgusting planet.

Once clothed I walk past him and out of the cave. If he wanted to leave so bad then I'm not going to stay here a moment longer. The hike felt excruciatingly longer than before with the thick burning tension in the air. I haven't looked at him since he pushed me off of him and I don't plan to. My rage against him has newfound fuel. 

Eventually, the trees begin to thin and the heap of scrap he calls a ship is in sight. I can't put my finger on it but something felt...off. He must feel it too, or notice my hesitation, because we both stand still for a beat, taking in our surroundings. It wasn't long before we were enclosed on all sides by Resistance troops with their blasters aimed up at him. I can't help the cackle that escapes my lips. "Looks like rescue did come after all" The look on my face could only be described as smug. I guess my guys got here first. The look of shock and anger on his face was priceless. Someone kicks him hard in the back of the knee to take him to the ground. The cuffs connecting us and keeping me his prisoner are now keeping him as mine.  

[cowboygenesis]

12: terroir | kylo ren x reader

part 12 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: mentions of chronic disease (cancer). word count: 4.8k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: lord, have i been at an impasse. sorry for the late update y'all, writer's block has been kicking my ass this past month. chapter 12 was gonna be much longer than 4k, but i realized that the scene ended pretty perfectly as is so i just split it. ngl, i'm not super proud of this one but hey.

Now Playing: Crust - Flying Lotus

Steam loops behind the bar, rolling in thick waves toward the wooden cabinets above. Soft, vaguely distinguishable music hums through an unplaceable speaker, harmonizing with the whirr of an automatic grinder.

Your nostrils fill with the robust, all-encompassing scent of roasted beans. As you tilt your speckled mug in chase of a sip, the hot liquid rolls down your tongue in a thin, aromatic stream.

But all you can taste is cigarettes.

The memory comes to you easily, sharp and visceral in its clarity. His soft mouth on yours, the heat of his palm against your cheek, and the low, guttural noise he made when you kissed him back. How his hands skimmed over you like he was relearning something he'd known in another life; how your thighs clenched and burned at the gentle peppering of bites against your neck, and his hips pressing into—

No.

You shake it off, swallow, and press your fingertips to your eyelids, trying to will the images away. You fled your apartment to escape these unorthodox thoughts, yet they seemed to follow you everywhere, even to the quaint cafe off West 120th.

The plan? Find a quiet, Kylo-less place, and occupy your sex-addled mind with something productive, like your poor, neglected thesis. Once you have produced four pages and had your plain bagel, you could continue masterminding your next steps in Operation “Kylo”.

Because those would inevitably change the course of your entire life.

When you rushed off the balcony with bitten lips this afternoon, Kylo didn’t chase. He persevered in awe-inspiring silence, letting you gather your laptop, bag, and keys and slam the door before you could change your mind.

In retrospect, you appreciated the distance. With every form of regret and confusion plaguing your body, taking your flame-ridden makeout further might have backed you into an agonizingly regretable corner. Even if that makeout is all you crave now.

But for now, you needed the distance. This, and the time to figure out whether you’d just made a massive mistake or were already too far gone to stop.

Because the problem wasn’t just Kylo.

It was Rey.

Naturally, you had considered telling her about your predicament. The burden of heartache was much easier to handle with a shoulder to cry on, yet with every suitable moment that emerged, things didn’t go your way. Whether it was a sudden intrusion from Kylo or your own uncertainty, Rey was ultimately living in blissful ignorance of your passions as you desperately felt your way through the darkness, alone.

And, even if she did know, would you be stupid enough to pursue her brother?

Kylo wasn’t made for relationships, and neither were you—at least not with someone like him, you thought. Not when he was still tangled up in his past, his pain, and all the things that made his shell so tough to crack. Meanwhile, you barely got the crumbs.

You check your phone again, taking in the broad expanse of your wallpaper and the few unimportant notifications from apps you’ve long forgotten—still, there's nothing you’re looking for there.

As your fingers tighten around ceramic, something thick and heavy begins bubbling in your chest.

He could’ve at least texted, right?

Even if it was just some dry, shitty quip, at least then you wouldn’t be stuck here, stewing in this uncertainty over a mug of overpriced coffee.

You exhale sharply, shoving it onto the table and flexing your fingers over your laptop. The bright screen greets you with a Google Doc, mocking you with its white void.

“Fuck me,” you huff, toying with the spacebar like it’ll give you something.

Your thesis is due in less than three months, and you haven’t even started on a conclusion. You were a proficient writer, and assignments like these usually came to you with ease. This time, you had the misfortune of harboring a massive, gorgeous distraction wherever you went.

You type out a few placeholders to break the silence, worrying your lip between your teeth as they fill the page.

The copper doorbell hanging over the entryway rings in your ears, rustled by the front door opening. It comes in tandem with a low, saccharine laugh and the clatter of heels against wood.

You’re not sure what prompts you to look up.

A pair of office workers stands in line by the counter, clad in pristinely fitted grey and blue; a man and a woman. You think they might be a couple.

Maybe it’s a strike of boredom or the air of luxury surrounding them, but your eyes can’t help but persevere. You watch them quietly, taking in the playful touches and lingering gazes. Their professional mein makes them stand out like sore, overdressed thumbs amidst a sea of regular people.

The red-haired man grins in a proud showcase of his pearly whites, urging the woman to lash her head back with a hearty giggle.

Your breath catches as the sound envelops your brain with painful familiarity.

Your hands go clammy, throat tight with disbelief. It takes a breath for you to weigh down on reality, but with a severe, verifying squint of your eyes, her silhouette quickly becomes unmistakable.

Sienna.

The sight of her lands somewhere deep in your gut, a slow-spreading, molten thing that burns down your throat. You doubt she’d recognize you, but somehow the mere possibility of that, the thought of her walking around completely unknowing to the damage she left behind, unreels your temper and stiffens your limbs.

The woman smooths her shiny, flaxen locks with her palm. When her hip shifts against the counter, you catch a glimpse of her bright, emerald orbs squinting with fervor.

Yours burn with loathing. It’s indescribeable, unfound, and completely inappropriate, but the sensation is powerful enough to prickle your digits. You tell yourself it’s a natural reaction to an unjust act, but deep down, something softer tugs at the strings of your hammering heart.

For him.

She doesn’t look haunted. She doesn’t seem like she regrets a thing.

And if you were completely off your rockers, you’d confront her. With a loud, accusatory lilt, you’d size her up and with an uncouth pain in your voice finally ask: ‘Why?’

Why did she feel entitled to break something so readily fragile?

But it wasn’t your place to ask. It wasn’t your place to seek closure for wounds that weren’t even yours to begin with. And yet.

The burning in your chest should have been enough to keep you rooted to your seat, to make you stay the hell out of it and mind your business until they left. But just as it starts to flicker and die, something else takes its place—something colder and sharper, engulfing your body with prickles of frost.

A terrible, impossible thought.

You weren’t sure how to feel about fate. But Sienna, standing there like a ghost in broad daylight, broke through all the odds of the universe merely to offer you this chance.

A chance to make you understand.

Not the infidelity or the aftermath. Not why Kylo hadn’t sought another relationship, or why he had kept you at arm’s length for so long. You wanted to understand him. His walls, his silences, the way he carried himself like a man who had spent his whole life waiting to be abandoned times again.

And that alone is what makes you stand up.

Your chair scrapes against the wooden floor, loud enough to earn a few half-curious glances from nearby tables, but you don’t notice. Your legs feel unsteady, like your body is questioning its own decision, and yet you never stop moving.

You weave through the maze of chairs and low conversation, your pulse hammering.

Sienna doesn’t see you coming. She’s too caught up in her conversation, leaning toward her companion with an effortless, masterful smile, her fingers curling lightly around the strap of her designer bag.

But you’ve been unlucky all day, and finally, fate has decided to turn the tables. The queue steps forward, urging the red-headed man to turn away and begin his order.

Separated, Sienna steps away toward an empty table. Then, as if sensing the weight of your stare, she turns.

For a brief, electric moment, her expression flickers to something visceral before she smooths it away with a sharp inhale.

She remembers you. And yet, she says nothing.

Your stomach knots, but you push past it, stopping just short of the table she occupies.

“Sienna?”

It’s not a greeting. It’s a challenge.

The woman blinks, then exhales a quiet sigh, adjusting the hem of her blouse. She doesn’t feign ignorance or plead silence. Instead, she waits, meeting your gaze with soft daggers.

Your fingers curl against your palm, pressing into the soft flesh as your breath becomes steady again.

“Got a minute?”

You catch her hesitate. Her eyes flicker toward her companion, then the barista preparing their drinks. You think she’s calculating an escape plan.

Then, with a barely-there sigh, she nods. “Alright.”

She quickly saunters toward the bar again, leaning against the redhead’s ear and whispering something incoherent. The two of them briefly turn toward you in tandem, sizing you with sharp, piercing eyes. You don’t smile. The man’s lips flatten, and he nods.

And just like that, you have her.

Sienna gives you a simple nod, like she’s been approved to conduct an interview or, more grimly, subject herself to an interrogation. Without a word, you motion toward your table: a quiet, tucked-away spot near the window. She follows.

Your pulse is a hammer in your chest.

She moves toward the table with deft grace, heels clicking softly against the wood. You follow, feeling more and more like you’re striding into something you could never live down. The consequence of your choice suddenly dawns on you, moistening your forehead.

She sits first, crossing her toned legs, her posture straight and immaculate. It’s a little on the nose, but you believe she could be a model in her spare time. Up close, it’s easy to admire her glowy skin and effortless confidence without looking too hard. She’s beautiful, and you think any man or woman could fall for her with ease. Pitifully, Kylo had to be her chosen.

You slide into the chair across from her, suddenly feeling smaller than you’d like as you shut your laptop with unplanned stringency.

Sienna exhales through her nose and rests an elbow on the table, fingers grazing her jaw like she’s short on time or simply bored with your antics before you even utter.

She speaks your name, letting it trickle off her tongue with strange benevolence. “What do you want to know?”

Right to the point, yet maintaining a semblance of civility. You imagine her sitting at a meeting, charming her coworkers with that very elegance. This was a woman who got exactly what she wanted, you could tell.

“You know my name?” you question simply, maintaining a neutral, nearly professional mein.

This question, after all, was a product of genuine curiosity. In your head, there was no way to reason her knowledge without considering Kylo as part of the equation. When you consider his mentioning you in conversation, it makes your heart flutter. You could only hope it was in a positive—or at the very least neutral—light.

“And naturally,” Sienna shrugs, “you know mine.”

She tilts her head in survey of your form. Her gaze rakes curiously over your upper half, and suddenly, you regret wearing your simple, rag-tag sweatsuit while she dons fine silks. Seriously, you wouldn’t even be surprised if that blouse was pure silk.

Your gaze catches a head of fiery locks moving toward a table, sporting two steaming cups. He sets it down, swiftly adjusting the spoons to sit straight against the plates.

Sienna’s brows furrow at your drifting attention.

“That man you’re with,” you trail, the woman’s head twisting to briefly spot her companion. “Is that—”

“Armitage,” she interrupts promptly, leaning back into her chair. She must have spotted the query in your eyes when her lips twist into a simple, non-threatening smile. “Friend from the office.”

You have no choice but to believe her. Even if you were right in your fears, and this ‘Armitage’ was her lover, you’d have nothing more to say. Arresting your crush’s ex for questioning was one thing—critiquing her current relationships was another.

“Right.”

Satisfied with your simple, dry reaction, Sienna sighs deeply. Her body moves forward, hands clasping against the table.

“Look,” she starts flatly, catching your gaze with a half-hearted scowl. “I know why you stopped me.”

You raise an eyebrow, pursing your lips when you lean forward, too. At this proximity, you catch a waft of her floral perfume. “Elucidate me.”

She sighs again, measuring your expression with a slow, languid look.

“It’s about Ben, right?”

With that simple word alone, your skin sets ablaze. Nails dig into your palms, shoulders heaving once with the weight of your breath.

How dare she use his name like that? So casually, so negligently—without a single care for what she’s caused and what it’s done.

You poke the inside of your cheek, eyes narrowed with scorn. The words fall from your lips like a mild poison.

“Why’d you do it?”

Sienna’s eyebrow lifts, eyeing you with measured confusion. You’re unsure if it’s aimed at your question or the sneer you now don.

“Why I cheated?” she asks, her lips tilted into a dubious smirk.

You nod, swallowing thickly when her expression turns flat. You couldn’t dig for her feelings if you tried, and you’re not sure you’d even like to considering the possible blight of what you’d find.

She raises her forearms, chin cradled. You watch her eyes flicker up, then sideways.

“For the same reason anyone cheats,” she answers after a beat, connecting your gazes. When you stay silent, she exhales slowly, taking it as a signal to elaborate.

“Ben and I were strung together by nothing but a shared apartment and some good memories,” she continues, eyes flickering away into nothing. “He was never there when I needed him most. Everything with him was shallow, even—and maybe especially, once we got engaged.”

You scrunch your nose, head shaking in disbelief. How could she be so lax about all of this?

“You had a choice.”

“I did,” she promptly nods, voice low and calculated. When her chin flicks up again, you catch the slightest glimmer of authenticity in the green of her eyes. “And I regret mine every day.”

Your heart thrums with something visceral.

“Then why?”

Sienna purses her lips, eyes flitting across your heated face.

“Listen, I don’t hold some… grand revelation to your problems, if that’s what you’re looking for.” She shakes her head, nostrils flaring when your forehead sinks. “Ben Solo is a broken man. He—”

“How can you say that?” you breathe, flailing your hand. “How can you—”

“Do you love him?”

The question hits you like a truck. A sharp, electricity-filled chill runs down your body as Sienna’s voice echoes through your skull like a lost prayer. Did you?

Did you love Kylo Ren?

“My advice?” The woman begins before you get the chance to spiral, her sharp vocals cutting through your haze. “Move on before it’s too late.”

Your lips hang ajar, hoping for a retort that never comes.

“You think you can fix him, but it’ll just cause you a world of pain,” the woman continues, taking your silence as an opportunity. Her eyes narrow, but there’s little scorn. If anything, her tone is laced with something resembling sympathy. Or pity. “In the end, you might find yourself in a repeat of what I did.”

Your brows knit low on your forehead, lip sneering with a scoff. “I could never.”

“Right.” She shakes her head, a joyless smile painting her features when she spots your hostility. Her eyes linger on you like that for a beat, absorbing your energy like it’s fuel. “I know you hate me.”

Your mouth opens again, a gasp stuck in your throat. You hated her actions, yes, but could you take it any further than that? You thought you hated Kylo, and it turned out to be a convoluted synonym for something else entirely. In truth, you didn’t know how you felt at all. That was your greatest vice.

“I don’t—”

“I know what hatred looks like,” she chuckles sardonically, toying with her perfectly manicured fingernail—the first sign of discomfort you’ve seen from her, ever. However things ended between her and Kylo, the contempt seems to linger till today. “You need to understand that I might have hurt him, yes, but I didn’t… I didn’t make him this way.”

You stay silent, letting her elaborate while thinking of something—anything to say for yourself. Nothing comes, and Sienna’s forehead creases further.

“Ben and his sister come from a difficult family,” Sienna carries, flexing her fists against the table. She shakes her head, leaning in forward once she senses your curiosity. “Did he tell you what happened with their mother?”

You flatten your lips, urging a whispered ‘no’ from your lips.

She scoffs through a bittersweet smile, tilting her head at you as if pitiful. “Of course not.”

You want to feel offended at her feigned superiority, but can’t. Sienna was the woman Kylo confided in at the end of the day, the one who knew his deepest, darkest secrets and greatest fears—and you? You were a stranger in comparison.

“Please don’t give me that look,” she suddenly sighs, eyes rolling lazily. “I almost feel bad for you.”

“Almost?” you chuckle saccharinely, unable to hide the bite in your tone.

Sienna bites her bottom lip, head tilted as she worries over an idea. You watch her silently, taking in another waft of her perfume. It’s such a stark contrast to Kylo’s: sweet, light, and powdery with something like cloves as the heart.

“I’ll tell you,” Sienna speaks suddenly, urging you out of your daze.

You watch her eyes, but catch nothing malicious. As far as you can tell, she’s serious.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you about him,” she elaborates quietly, smoothing down a few stray locks, “but I have one condition.”

You look at her skeptically, raising an eyebrow at the authenticity of her tone. It’s a strange trade-off, but it’s been a strange day altogether. You think you can handle whatever fate has in store for you at this point, and maybe more.

“Alright,” you nod, clasping your hands against the table.

Sienna watches you, gazing calmly and indistinctly. When you expect it least, she exhales sharply through her nose and shakes her head.

“Be smart about this,” she says, almost like a weak warning.

Your hands lower, nails digging into your lap. “I don’t understand.”

She tilts her head, expression softening; not with kindness, but something bordering pity. It makes your stomach twist in all the worst ways.

“It means let it go,” she says flatly, toying with a charm on her silver bangle. “For your own sake.”

Your throat tightens as you watch the silver streak with light. “Why?”

Sienna sighs. She glances toward the counter, where Armitage is still waiting for their drinks, then back at you. You wonder if she’s become impatient with your little rendezvous.

“I told you,” she murmurs, sizing you up with a narrowed gaze. “You can’t handle it.”

You shake your head, frustration mounting. What made her turn so hostile out of nowhere?

“You don’t know that.”

Sienna arches a brow, unimpressed. “Don’t I?”

The words settle like lead in your stomach.

She’s testing you. She knows exactly how deep you’ve gone, and exactly how much deeper you’re willing to go.

You swallow thickly, tracing circles against your pants. It takes a few tension-filled moments, but eventually, you manage to face her with some semblance of composure.

“Tell me about his mother.”

For a moment, Sienna merely looks at you. Her bright eyes darken with something like disappointment, tracing your face with little interest.

Then, she sighs, smoothing a hand down her thigh before speaking.

“Leia got sick when he was sixteen,” she begins slowly, straightening her posture. “Really sick.”

She doesn’t say cancer, but it hangs in the air between you. You vaguely recall Rey leaving town for weeks at a time, calling it a ‘family emergency. ’ You asked back then but never got a clear answer—Until now.

“Han took on every job he could to pay for the treatments. Late nights, weekends, side gigs… whatever,” the woman trails, looking downward. “So, naturally, he was never home.”

Your stomach twists.

“So little Ben had to step up. You know, raise Rey on his own. Make her meals, help her with homework, pick her up from school. Meanwhile, Leia was in and out of hospitals, and Han was…” she shakes her head lightly, looking at you blankly like she’s recalling an unpleasant memory. “Gone.”

You bite your lip, worrying it between your teeth until it feels raw.

“How is she now?” you croak nervously, urging a bittersweet smile onto Sienna’s face.

“Fine. Better, at least,” she sighs, furrowing her brows. “But it’s chronic. She’s gone through remission once before this.”

You nod once in polite acknowledgment, fidgeting with your hands. Sienna watches you quietly, pacing her answers with the utmost care.

“He doesn’t hate them,” she says after a moment, reading your expression. “But he resents them.”

Something tight kinks in your chest. You don’t realize you’re gripping your coffee cup too hard until the raw ceramic creaks beneath your fingers.

“And, weirdly,” the woman trails, her expression melting into something entirely undecipherable. “I guess he resents himself for it, too.”

The woman sits back, and your mind begins to reel through the silence.

Perhaps you’ve thought about it too simply. After all, Rey never revealed this fact to you, either, and strangely, you couldn’t blame her like you do Kylo.

He never told you. Not once—not even when you shrunk at his feet, begging for answers. And for the first time, you feel like your ire for him is somewhat justified.

“I’ve tried,” she murmurs, lips twitching with something sad. “To break down his walls. To fix him.”

Sienna watches you for a moment longer, then shakes her head with a joyless laugh. You’re certain now that all she feels for you is pity.

But her meaning is clear. You can’t save him. And briefly, you wonder if he ever wanted to be saved in the first place.

“My point is, I didn’t break him,” she sighs, pursing her lips with a slight shrug. Her nonchalance makes you feel like the entire point of telling this miserable story was to establish herself as guiltless, and for a second, you think you’re right. Somehow, that’s what chafes you. “I found him broken, and—”

“Broke him even more,” you cut off, asserting your tone with a sharp rasp that doesn’t go unnoticed by the woman. She stares at you for a beat, assessing you through narrowed eyes in the probable hope of getting you to back off. You don’t.

“I told you I regretted it,” she finally acquiesces lowly, softening her gaze and tilting her head. “If I could take it all back, I would. I’d keep him close. We’d get married and live a sub-par life together, eating our meals in silence and sleeping in separate bedrooms.”

Something about her words makes you feel uneasy. This whole time, you’ve felt like her advice was simply a thinly veiled threat aimed toward you and your predicament, but now? You think there might be more to it.

Sienna drops her gaze, toying with something on her hand. Once your eyes plunge with hers, you realize she’s tracing a thin, silvery band lining her ring finger.

You swallow thickly, taking in the delicate jewels lining the rim. You had noticed this band at the party before, but it’s now, up close, that your suspicions are proven right.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sienna studies you carefully, waiting to see if you’ll absorb her words or spit them back at her.

You sigh against the weight in your throat, collecting your frayed nerves enough to pose yourself as comfortable. The woman studies you closely, flitting across your face as if trying to spot a weakness.

“Why do you call him Ben?”

Her expression doesn’t change, but something in her shoulders tightens. She stops toying with her ring, letting that fist squeeze until her knuckles go white.

“Because that’s who he is.” She says it like it’s obvious, her voice bordering on a scoff. “Kylo’s just a name he hides behind.”

You furrow your brows, taking in the uncommon wistfullness of her tone. “He introduces himself as Kylo.”

She nods, almost to herself. A smile curls on her lips, but it vanishes before you can gauge its authenticity. “Yeah. I guess he does.”

When she looks at you, you feel your cheeks drain of color.

The woman’s eyes blaze brilliantly, flickering with a full pallette of conflicting emotions. They flit across you blankly, like she’s committing your picture to memory for simple safekeeping and nothing more. It’s robotic but raw and makes the hairs on your neck stand on end.

But before you can press further, Sienna exhales sharply and stands, smoothing the front of her blouse. You realize your ears have been ringing.

“Well, this was fun,” she says softly, though there’s no real humor in it. Her expression bounces back to her usual state of professionalism, adjusting the strap of her bag with a soft hum when she faces you. “Good luck, then.”

You blink up at her, startled at the bizarre pacing. “That’s it?”

She shrugs, dusting off her pencil skirt. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this conversation meant nothing to her. The tremor in her hands betrays this notion.

“I told you what you wanted to know.”

Your eardrums pulse with the soft din of nearby conversation. A beat passes, and your gaze still dwells on hers.

Then, without thinking, you say, “And what if I don’t listen?”

For the first time since she sat down, Sienna really looks at you. She leans in just slightly, two pools of green pinning you with a definite zeal.

“Then I hope you know what you’re doing.”

With that, she turns on her heel and walks toward the counter. You vaguely catch her plucking her drink from the redhead’s hand without a word, looking up at him with a smile entirely alien to you.

He glances between you two, brows furrowing briefly, but before you catch his lips move, Sienna is already making her way toward the door.

She never looks back. And somehow, your body crawls with the bizarre, involuntary notion that this was the first and last conversation you’d ever share.

You sit there, heart pounding, fingers curled tight around your lukewarm coffee. You feel the divots of the handle under your fingers, tracing them absentmindedly as if that alone could anchor you in place.

You’ve obtained another puzzle piece. As you watch Armitage nod at you in goodbye, the connection you make with it hits you like a cold tidal wave.

This was never Kylo’s fault.

Every time he pulled away, every time he chose silence over honesty, it wasn’t because he wasn’t enough—It wasn’t because you weren’t enough, or because you hadn’t chipped away at his walls hard enough, valued him well enough, or wanted him enough.

It was because he never learned how to let people stay.

And how could he?

For the first time, you picture him young. A boy with dark eyes and quiet steps, barely old enough to carry his sister, yet old enough to know he had to. You imagine him setting a small plate on the table for Rey, smoothing her hair like his mother used to, whispering promises that he was too young to keep.

You think of him staring at the front door, waiting. For his mother to get better. For his father to come home.

For something in his world to change.

And then, years later, he’s still waiting. Waiting for something—someone to prove him right.

Your breath catches, and before you can think, before you can process, your body moves.

The chair screeches against the floor as you push it back. Coffee sloshes as you shove it aside. Your laptop is barely zipped into your bag before you’re slinging it over your shoulder and running.

Your pulse is frantic, your feet unsteady, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You need to see him.

The door bursts open against the weight of your urgency, and then you’re outside, the city air slapping against your face with the sound of that little copper bell.

You don’t catch it over the sound of Ben’s name on your lips.

[blue-sadie]

Blinded By Feelings

Armitage Hux, Cal Kestis, Poe Dameron, Din Djarin, Anakin Skywalker

They have feelings for you their enemy

Armitage Hux

He hated you even through he's never met you, he loathed your very being and it only increased when he met you, you were another general that to fought to be the best.

And when you two were together in a meeting or just in passing in the corridors you two would bicker like children over plans or random things that was annoying one of you that day.

He would only realize his feelings when a storm trooper would ask him but he would tell them to shut up and threaten them saying he would throw him into space if he ever spoke something so ridiculous again, but it would cloud his mind days after that.

He would feel disgusted by himself and avoid you by all cost but his efforts went to waste when you come back injured from a mission and he would make it his personal mission to take you to the med bay and scold you at the same time.

"You are stupid as the rebellion if you think you would not get scolded for your actions you could've gotten yourself killed next time at least tell me first so I can get you better storm troopers"

Cal Kestis

You joined the crew way before he did and had a stronger bond with greez and cere he was kinda jealous it wasn't much of a hatred thing he just found you kinda annoying to be around and would avoid being with you.

Every time you tried talking to him he would ignore you or when you saved him countless times he would just give you a forced thank you but nothing more.

The thing that made him notice is that you would start showing up in his dreams more or when he meditates, he'd find it annoying at first but he'd start thinking about you more and more.

He'd start listening and paying more attention to you which not only freaked you out but the other crew members to, during one of the missions he'd actually listen to your ideas instead of shutting you up.

"You have some really good ideas I should've started listening to you sooner, I'm sorry about that by the way I guess I was just jealous of you"

Poe Dameron

You were the rebellions best mechanic and the person that would work on his x-wing without his consent he'd hate it even though it needed to be done, he hates it more when you'd leave sticky notes telling him about the up grades you've done to his ship.

He would complain to Leia about you but she'd just laugh and tell him off because your just doing your job so then he'd come complain directly to you but you'd just ignore him continuing on his next up grade.

He'd have a few people tell him that he probably has a crush on you because of him talking about you so much but what really makes him realize is when he sees you talking to others guys and the jealousy he feels.

When returning from one of his missions his x-wing battered and needing repairs he'd actually come straight to you to ask you to repair it for him.

"I know I found it annoying but I've come to realize your up grades are kinda.... helpful after saving me a few times so what I'm trying to say is I'd like you to continue working on my ship"

Din Djarin

Your were an assassin, killing off the high end people most bounty hunters were afraid to kill, you've also killed a few of his bountys making him pissed.

He's only ever layed eyes on you a few times in crowed bars or a desolate street he doesn't really care about knowing you because why would he get to know his enemy a thief.

He'd only start looking out for you more when you saved him from an ambush you shot his captures in the head and threw him a gun before disappearing again.

He'd be against the idea of ever actually falling for you because of his past experiences but after some more encounters with you he'd would stop you before you vanish again.

"You can reject this offer but I'm still putting it out there, I want you to join me us, it would be alot easier we work together then you stealing my bountys so what do you say"

Anakin Skywalker

You are master windus padowan and the person he's always compared to why can't you be like yn why can't you take after her, it was something he heard almost everyday which makes him hate you.

He hates how kind you are even through his hateful words he spits your way or when you'd sometimes take the fall for one of his stupid plans he never even thanks you.

He like hux only got the realization when you got hurt, you'd taken a hit that was ment for him, the panic he felt as he watched you fall made him snap and kill whoever did it.

He'd spend day and night by your bedside in the medbay pacing back and forth as he tried thinking about his feelings, they'd only calm down when he sees you awake.

"Don't do that ever again do you hear me, you don't deserve to be here especially because of me I should be in this bed instead of you, do you know what you put me through I thought I lost you"

[pinkykats-place]

Armitage Hux x Reader

AO3 Star Wars Fic Recs

Disclaimers!

None of the stories below are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Read tags. Check Ratings.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Beautiful by orphan_account

Summary: Armitage Hux has taken a wife. Unfortunately for you, you're his new bride. You're trying to battle your fast growing feelings for your husband, but your apprehension is fading faster and faster.

Contains Smut

Complete | 7 Chapters

safety by moonlitcavern

Summary: A two-part hux x reader in which hux shows up at your quarters bleeding and exhausted and perhaps on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Complete | 2 Chapters | Fluff

Fragile Trust, Fragile Love by KiaraKohana

Summary: Armitage Hux had grown up in a world where he was told not to trust anyone, so why did he seem to let his guard down around you? He felt safe for the first time in decades- perhaps in his entire life. He trusted you. But little did he know there's a lot more to you than what meets the eye.

Complete | 13 Chapters

Cats and Commands by TheJediCode

Summary: You are in training as a communications officer aboard the Finalizer. When you are an assigned an unusual task by your superior officer, you find yourself face to face with one of the most formidable officers in the First Order, who isn't at all what you expect.

Complete | 8 Chapters

Rated - General Audiences

Good Samaritan by CatchYouInTheRye

Summary: Your superior Armitage Hux seems to be having a bad day and you suddenly have the urge to fix that.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - Explicit

That Kind of Love by Irma7x

Summary: Trying to break free of the control that ruled his everyday life, Hux asks for you to try something different together in the bedroom. You carry it through on his birthday.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

Nova Girls by LostLaureate

Summary: An unauthorized transmission from inside the ship.

DATA BREACH: holo-feed.novagirls/cstream/7786-5548283404

“Oh Kriff! I’m so close!”

Had he been in worse health, the sudden 62 inches of ass that filled the entirety of his holo display would have been enough to give him a coronary.

Hux x Cam-Girl Reader

WIP | 5/? Chapters

Rated - Mature

Let Me Take Care Of You by selfinserttrash

Summary: You were a Hall Girl. A glorified errand monkey, you deliver datapads and fetch sandwiches for the most important men in the First Order. You've been reassigned to General Hux's sector, and you quickly find out that he's not as easily impressed as most of the men aboard the Finalizer. One day, you see something you're not meant to, and it ignites something entirely new within you.

After all, you know what they say, the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Incomplete | 5/? Chapters

Last Updated 2018

Rated - Mature

The Crown by bananakin

Summary: "Chin up, darling," your mother had bitten out with her dying breath, "or the crown will slip."

OR in which a female reader ends up bound to General Hux (and in turn, the First Order) in matrimony.

Incomplete | 26/? Chapters

Last updated 2019

The Temptations of a Kitchen Woman by nelliespector (ilmv)

Summary: Kylo Ren has made a sport out of bothering General Hux. The Supreme Leader is sure Armitage shares Brendol's weaknesses. To prove it, Ren takes away the protocol droid that normally prepares Hux's meals and replaces it with an irresistible Arkanisian kitchen woman who is also required to share the General's bed every night. How long can a sexually frustrated Hux hold out? Can his desire to prove Kylo wrong prevail over... plain ol' desire?

Incomplete | 15/? CH | Contains Smut

Last updated March 2022

[roostersmustache]

Unfinished Business Masterlist

This is the place for all things related to 'Unfinished Business!' Thank you for reading! Requests for this story are currently CLOSED since it's ongoing, but they'll open up once it's finished!

Series Synopsis: Ben Solo and Lira grew up as Padawan's together. The two were a dyad in the Force, something so strong and rare. But then Ben turned to the Dark Side, and Luke Skywalker fled, leaving Lira with no choice but to hide herself. But when a mysterious scavenger girl appears with a BB unit droid that contains a map to Skywalker, Lira finally steps foot outside of hiding. But she's not the only one set on finding Skywalker. No, the man she went into hiding from is too, and her coming out of the shadows awakened their bond, putting a target clean on her back.

Series Warnings: Swearing, Star Wars spoilers, mature and adult themes, violence, mentions of smut, probably and eventually smut, 18+ mdni !

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Star Wars material or dialogue from TFA. All of those belong to Lucasfilm and Disney. I only have rights to any characters that I create, but any elements brought from the Star Wars universe do not belong to me.

Full Masterlist here

Part One: Lira has been in hiding for the past six years, ever since her lover and fellow Padawn, Ben Solo, turned to the dark side. Since then, he's been on the hunt for her, but she's done a great job staying hidden in the irritating sand planet of Jakku. But all of that gets disrupted when a scavenger girl shows up to her hut claiming to have a droid that holds the key to Luke Skywalker's location.

Part Two: Of course Lira gets caught the first time she comes out of hiding in six years. And of course it's by none other than her estranged, murderous ex boyfriend Kylo Ren.

Part Three: Lira truly believes her Ben is gone - mostly because she can't feel him through that damn Force blocking collar he put on her. But once that damn thing is off, the conflict she feels in him is staggering. Is that hope? That's blooming in her chest?

Part Four: Lira decides to lean into the hope she's been feeling, even if she might be making a mistake. She meets up with a certain someone, but as can be expected, things don't go the way she would like.

Part Five: The one where the Resistance gets an unexpected visitor and Lira gets a rude awakening. Force facetiming incoming and family lore reveal.

Part Six: A rescue mission takes place, and the line of betrayal is danced on.

This series is ongoing! Make sure to follow along for updates!

[noiriarti]

Inappropriate: Armitage Hux x Reader - Ch. 4

NSFW!!!

TW: mentions of Brendol Hux being abusive, nsfw

Summary: Hux has to travel to Starkiller Base to check on construction. His favorite lieutenant comes with him, but these horrible, terribly inappropriate thoughts just won't stop.

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, [Ch. 4]

The Academy didn't exactly leave its graduates romantically well-adjusted, and Armitage was no exception. As he stormed into his room, his heart pounding, partially with fear for his career and partially with adrenaline from your encounter, he closed his door and immediately felt the guilt wash over him. Saying that to you felt terrible, and the look in your eyes when he pulled away nearly shattered him right there. It took all his resolve to protect your careers.

He wondered if he had made a wrong decision. Cora had married someone as an officer, after all. A small part of him whispered that one of you could just retire, and then it wouldn't be anyone's business what you did--Order or not. And, if something did happen, it wasn't exactly nonconsensual like it was with Kelein. Maybe he could even get away with an honorable discharge.

He had thought about it before, if he could build a life with you. He looked into it, considered all the practicalities. But he never acted on anything, because it would have been ridiculous to think you felt the same way about him. After tonight, though, Armitage thought maybe you felt the same way about him. Just maybe. 

Armitage weighed the probability in his mind as he got out of his uniform, meticulously folding each piece as he took it off. Around the time he had slipped on his sleep shirt and sleep pants, he had decided that there was a greater than 50% chance you liked him, at least a little bit, and that there was some merit in talking to you about it. He brushed through his hair and broke up the gel, leaving his bangs soft over his forehead. Either way, his words to you were far too harsh. You hadn't done anything wrong. You were just sitting there, and it was him that touched you. Fuck, now that he thought about it, he had initiated all the contact, except the leg thing. He was the creepy one leering on your lips and touching them like some pervert.

There was a decanter of whiskey on the desk, just as he had requested, and he poured himself a double with shaking hands. What had he done?

He gulped the whiskey down as fast as he could. The warmth in his throat didn't burn him, though, it just reminded him of your legs touching earlier and the warmth it had filled him with. He leaned over with his head in his hands, panic gripping him. FUCK, what have I done?

Armitage was halfway through pouring himself another drink to build up his courage when he heard a whimper through the wall. Oh fuck, were you crying? He froze. You shared a wall, so he pressed his ear to it. His heart stopped and his throat got tight at the mental image of you sobbing. He had only seen you cry once, when an Academy student died on a mission. You were both so much younger then, but he still felt himself drawn to stand by you and put his arm on your shoulder. He couldn't stand to see you cry again.

A moment later, he heard another small noise. A deep intake of breath. You were definitely crying. Hard, by the sound of it.

He could barely hold himself together as he put on a sweater and slippers, shoving his feet into them hurriedly. He had to fix this. NOW. His hands shook as he set the glass down.

It's all my fault it's all my fault it's all my faultit'sallmyfaultit'sallmyfault, his mind echoed as he slammed his door open and rushed to yours. Your cries were louder now, and his chest was tight with guilt.

Fuck protocol. Fuck rules. Fuck Kelein. Fuck the Order. All that mattered was you feeling better. Him making it right. He wanted to make it right for the rest of his life, if you asked him. He would do fucking anything for you, and he knew that now. He would take the firing squad, if it would stop you from crying because of him.

He reached your door and knocked on it hurriedly, calling your name, propriety be damned. No answer. 

Fuck it. He opened the door.

There, on the bed, he saw you splayed out, fingers buried inside you. Your other hand was gripping your breast, but he barely noticed. His attention was entirely on your face and your moans. You looked positively fucking angelic with your hair splayed messily around you, and the sweat beading on your brow. He heard you make a little *oh!* sound, face scrunched together, as you finally came. Hard.

Your back arched off the bed, pushing your breasts into the air. His eyes were glued to your pussy now, watching it twitch around your fingers. From the moment he saw you, his cock was harder than a fucking diamond, but it started twitching when you came. Stars, he needed you. Needed to be inside you.

It was only a split second, but it was enough for him to memorize everything. And to process that he should probably go. His cheeks and chest grew hot and feverish, blush spreading all over his upper body.

"HolyfuckIamsosorry!" he blurted before he ran out of the room. He closed the door behind him and walked, lightheaded and unsteady, back to his own room. As he closed the door behind him, he realized he had fucked up. Majorly. This was an HR report waiting to happen. But he couldn't stop his cock from twitching, or his mind from seeing that image of you, cumming hard in front of him.

Usually, masturbating was just taking care of a need for him. He would wake up hard, or, worse, come back to his quarters hard after one of your meetings, and take care of himself full of shame. Your sweet voice haunted those moments, saying "Affirmative, sir" or "Good shot, sir" with those perfect lips.

This was different. He was harder than he had been in any of those moments. His cock ached in his pants, begging to be taken out and touched. He rolled his hips subconsciously, feeling his head rub across the material of his pants. He wanted more. He needed more. He palmed his cock as he moved to his bed, falling onto it roughly. The material of his sleep pants was already getting sticky at the point where the tip of his cock leaked precum. For a moment, he was scared he was going to cum as soon as he wrapped a hand around his length. He had to make this last.

He smeared the precum over his hand as he pulled his pants down, setting a slow pace to keep himself going. Fantasies weren't new to him, and it wasn't like he'd never imagined you naked before. But now, he didn't have to imagine. He had your perfect body snapshotted in his mind forever. Would your pussy twitch the same way if he made you cum on his cock? Would you make that noise if he bent you over some stupid machine on the bridge? He'd give anything to make you shake while he buried his face between your legs, making you cum over and over and over until you begged him to stop.

Fuck, it was too much. He sped up, setting a brutal pace, like he imagined he would with you. The head of his cock was a dark red, sensitive and ready to cum. He grunted as his thumb rubbed over his slit, sending the tingling feeling that had started in his legs all over his body. It had never felt like this before, when he was alone in his quarters.

Then a knock came a his door. It was probably the pilot, telling him the updated ETA. He internally cursed fate, timing, and just life in general as he pulled up his sleep pants. A rather obvious tent was still visible, and he tried to shift it to make it smaller as he moved toward the door.

"Yes?" He swung the door open. It was you.

"Gene--Armitage. Can I come in? I'd like to talk to you," you said, wringing your hands like he knew you did when you were uncomfortable. He was still a little pink from his encounter with you, but he definitely flushed a deeper shade when he saw your cheeks still rosy, and your pupils still blown wide.

"Yes, er--sure," he answered. He gestured for you to enter, and, while you passed through the doorframe, pulled his shirt down as far as he could to try and disguise his obvious arousal. You breathed in raggedly and turned to face him once he closed the door behind you. An awkward silence sat between the two of you.

"I-" you both began in sync. You giggled awkwardly, which in turn made him chuckle.

"Please, go ahead," he said.

"No, please, you go first," you responded. He took a deep breath and began. He got the sense that what he said, and the way he said it, was perhaps the most important choice he had ever made.

"Alright. I came to see you because I wanted to apologize. For earlier. I was harsh to you, unnecessarily so. I most likely made you uncomfortable earlier, with the, well, I suppose, advances I made. I am deeply sorry for that. It also wasn't my intent to to walk in on--to see you in such an... intimate moment. I am truly, very sorry," he said. It took you several seconds to respond--4 and a half, not that he was counting--and his heart was in his throat for every single one of them. 

"About you seeing... what you saw. I should be the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have been doing that on a mission, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," you said, and then paused before continuing, "But you were making advances?" Your hopeful eyes bored into him, and he took a shaky breath. It was now or never.

"I-yes. I was. I hadn't intended to, but I couldn't stop myself once I started. The truth is that I have... feelings for you--deep feelings--and I have been trying to shake them since the Academy. I have been in love with you for so long that I cannot imagine what my world would be like without you," he paused, "But I was, and am, worried that, given my position of power over you, that I would pressure you into a relationship, or that I would lose my job, or, even worse that you would lose your job over my silly crush." There was a certain vulnerability to being honest that Armitage wasn't used to, and he so rarely felt exposed the way he did now. His heart was in your hands, and, even if you crushed him at this moment, saying that he loved you had lifted a weight he did not even realize he was carrying. Now you knew. Not that the minor relief made the earth-shaking nervousness any better.

A long pause hung in the air between you. His heart pounded in his chest and his ears thrummed with the blood rushing through them. When had he last been this scared? This nervous? He pressed his nails into his palm to distract himself, the bite of the pain taking the edge off. He kept his gaze downward, as if that would help him avoid the inevitable.

Instead, he was met with your hands on his face. Stars, your hands were so soft pressed up against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch, starved for it. He sighed deeply, hoping against all hope that he could stay here forever, suspended in this moment with you.

Then he felt your lips on his, gentle and warm and perfect. He could have sworn that every single nerve in his body was firing at a million miles an hour and lighting him up like a firework. It was the best feeling Armitage had ever felt. If this is what being kissed felt like, he didn't want to ever stop for the rest of his life. He could die right here and be the happiest man to ever exist. Even when you pulled away, he kept his eyes closed, savoring the moment before it was gone. Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, which made his body scream for more more more, but he ignored it in favor of waiting for you to say something.

"Armitage, I love you too. I've loved you since, well, as long as I can remember," you said. Your confession sat, heavy in the air between you. Now that everything was in the open, the tension that had been suppressed by his fears was suffocatingly strong. His eyes met your lips, again, and he snapped.

He kissed you wildly, grabbing your waist and face with such force that you almost fell over. It was everything he had ever wanted to do to you over all those years--sloppy and messy and so, so intense. Your cheek was just as smooth under his hand as it was earlier, but this time it was *his*. You sniffed in pain when, in his haze, he accidentally bumped your teeth together. Fuck, I hope I'm not bad at this, he thought.

"Sorry," he murmured to you, face only an inch from yours, "I'm not very experienced." He internally hoped you hadn't thought of him as some playboy who would be perfect the first time around.

"Me neither, whatever, just kiss me," you gasped as you pulled his shirt and slammed your lips together again. Your already wet lips slid together and against each other so perfectly, sending jolts to your core. Heat was pooling in his body too, settling to an insistent thrum in his cock, which was already sensitive and twitching like mad. He was leaning down to kiss you, and you occasionally stepped back to catch your balance, until your legs hit the back of his bed, almost knocking you down in the process. He caught you with his arms, which really were stronger than they looked, but what he really wanted was to push you down onto the bed and keep you there for hours. (Would he really be that lucky? Would you even want that, from him? Could he really even make you feel good, let alone make you cum? Would his cock be good enough for you? Big enough? Was he enough? A little voice asked in his mind. He dismissed it.)

"We don't have to, now, I mean," he whispered to you between kisses.

"No, I want to. I want you," you breathed, pulling him down onto you. He was weightless for a moment before catching himself on his arms, his body so close to yours. Here goes nothing, he thought, pressing his clothed erection against you. You moaned in response and he swore it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. He wanted you to moan for him all night, begging for his cock inside you over and over.

Armitage rocked his hips hesitantly, hoping you wouldn't hold him obviously being aroused beyond belief against him. The friction was absolutely delicious, and he wished there were fewer layers between you as he kept thrusting as he kissed down to your throat, planting wet kisses as he went. You would have a high collar anyway, he figured, so he started sucking and biting a spot that made you whine whenever his tongue ghosted over it.

He pulled off you with a wet pop, and looked in pride at the swollen red mark he left. His. You were his. He beamed with pride. His kisses progressed lower, down to the neckline of your shirt, and you got the hint. When he next pulled off you, you kicked off your slippers and scooched back onto the bed, laying on the pillows. You treated him to quite a show, taking your shirt off slowly and sensually as he sat, practically drooling for you. You were in just your regulation sports bra, not anything special in your mind, but he thought it was the best thing he had ever seen. Your nipples peeked through the garment, and he longed to take them in his mouth.

Fair was fair, so he took off his own shirt, pausing for a moment when he realized this would be the first time anyone saw his bare chest in years. It was, like the rest of him, lean but muscular, and, to him, not particularly sexy. His freckles peppered his shoulders, but his back was covered with small scars from particularly harsh beatings from his father, including several rather prominent cigar burns that he hid at all costs when he was changing in the Academy. It felt shameful, to be so weak. He hoped you wouldn't ask, and that he wouldn't have to explain.

Your eyes scoured his chest, looking like you wanted to pounce on him again, which cast a warm glow in his heart (and crotch, but that mattered less right then). He approached you and lay next to you, on his side, carding his hands through your hair.

"What are these scars from, Armitage?" You asked, tracing a particularly harsh one that cut from his back to his shoulder.

"I-" he felt like his mouth was filled with cotton, dry and heavy. Would you think less of him? "My father. He is... not a kind man," he choked out. You gazed at him with pity, and his heart pattered in his chest. Had he ruined the moment? Did you still want to keep doing... whatever you were doing?

"I'm sorry. He sounds like an asshole," you said. You kissed him tenderly. "But let's not think about him," you continued, kissing him with more heat, more urgency. His arousal came back, insistent. He rolled so he was on top of you, skin against skin, kissing away any memory of his father until his head was filled with nothing but you. His hand came up to your bra strap, and you nodded. He grabbed the bottom, pulling it gently up and over your head. Finally, he was seeing you again. He went back to your jaw, kissing down to your nipple. He took it in his mouth, swirling and sucking until you moaned like you did when you came. He'd pull more noises out of you, he decided. His right hand came up to roll your nipple--almost exactly like you had imagined--grabbing and kneading your breast as he thrust gently against your clothed pussy.

The heat between you was getting unbearable. When he was satisfied with your tits (not that he would ever, really, be done with them), he kissed down to your waistband. Looking up at you for confirmation, he started pulling them down when he saw you nod emphatically. "Yes, yes," you whispered. He practically ripped them off, along with your underwear, finally seeing you naked in front of him again. But what was he supposed to do now? He'd never touched someone like this. He had an idea.

"Show me what you like. How you did it earlier," he commanded, pouring some of his General voice into it. You whimpered, bringing your hand to your clit and rubbing circles. Finally, pleasure. You moaned loudly, and he ripped your hand away. It was his turn.

He dove into your pussy like a man possessed, licking sloppy circles on your clit until he figured out which position made you react the most. Then, he kept on it, speeding up as he went. Words poured out of you, almost surprising you with their filth.

"Fuck yes Armitage please faster please please please that feels so good," you babbled, body twitching. He could feel your abs clenching, and your thighs tensing up as he kept going. With his free hand, he thrust his middle finger into your pussy. You were positively soaked, and he groaned against you at the sensation. He had read somewhere that he was supposed to curl up (in one of his times alone with a datapad after a particularly long study session with you), so he tried it, and you practically screamed. So sensitive for him. He moved a hand to stroke himself through his pants. Fuck, you were perfect.

He set a brutal pace on you, adding another finger, which your pussy instantly gripped around. You were even louder now, so so close to release.

"Please, General, let me cum please please pleasepleaseplease," you gushed, digging your hands into his hair and gripping it. He made a mental note to pull yours later. He could tell you were almost there, and who was he to deny you? He just wanted you to come undone all over him, so he let you.

He could tell you were cumming when you spasmed and clenched *hard* on his fingers, moaning just like you had when he saw you the first time. Only, this time, it was all because of him. He smiled against you at that thought. He gently worked you through your orgasm, slowly lapping at your sensitive clit. You were so perfect for him. When you had caught your breath, he pulled his fingers from you and licked the taste of you off of them as he climbed back up you.

"Darling, I want to fuck you," he said with a newfound confidence from your glazed, doe-like eyes. He had an idea of something you might like. He put his hand on your cheek and toyed with your lower lip like he had earlier.

"Do you want your General to fuck you?" He asked sweetly, pouring just the smallest tinge of command into his tone. He knew you couldn't resist. You whimpered and nodded fervently as your hands tried to tug his pants down. He chuckled darkly and tutted.

"Not yet, darling. Do you have protection?" He asked. He didn't exactly have a need for condoms, so he didn't tend to travel with them. You looked embarrassed as you jumped off the bed and dug one out of your pants pocket, holding it up to him once you returned to the bed. He grinned wildly. You were his favorite strategist, after all. Gods, how he loved you. Armitage ripped open the little foil packet, holding it between his teeth as he pulled his pants down, finally freeing his aching cock. He gave it a pump or two, just to take the edge off, and then he rolled it smoothly onto his cock. Your gaze was fixed on his cock, ravenous. Joy bloomed in his chest, and he lined himself up with you.

"Are you sure, my love?" He just wanted to check. You smiled and tucked a piece of his bangs behind his ear.

"Yes, are you?" He nodded, grinning impishly. He slapped his dick against your oversensitive clit a few times before pressing into you, loving the squeal he elicited. He watched your eyes roll back as he sheathed fully into you, trying in vain to take a mental picture of your face as he first fucked you. The feeling of your sweet, wet, tight pussy gripping his cock was overwhelming and perfect. He was sure life couldn't get any better than being buried in you. He experimentally pulled back and thrust in, shallow, but he groaned with the feeling. So. Fucking. Tight.

"Please, fuck me, sir," you whispered to him, and he immediately started slamming his hips into you. *Stars*, this was worth waiting for. You were worth waiting for. He fucked you with long, deep strokes, rushed and sloppy. His cock was lighting up your pussy, and, whenever you clenched around him, he groaned loudly. Your moans were becoming louder and louder in rhythm to his hips. Your mind was going blank with the feeling of his thick cock bumping against every spot that made your body sing. He could feel his balls tightening, so he pulled out of you quickly, wanting to make this last.

He put his hand under your hip and roughly flipped you over. As he entered you from behind, he grabbed your hair with one hand and smacked your ass with the other. You practically howled, and, before he could push in all the way, started moving your hips on his cock. He tutted at you and grabbed your hip with his free hand, pulling your hair to turn you to face him.

"You want to be fucked? I'll fuck you, angel," he growled, setting a brutal pace. You squealed and bucked when his hand snaked down your stomach and met your clit. The headboard of the bed smashed against the wall, the springs creaking so loudly, it almost sounded like your moans. But you, his love, were drowning them all out with your beautiful moans. Stars, he was close. He wasn't going to cum without you, though, so he put all his energy into speeding up his hand on your clit and fucking you even faster.

Then, it came. He could tell you were close from the way your body tightened and you panted, just like you had before. All at once, you came with a loud yelp, moaning obscenities shortly after. It was too much for him. His legs were tingling from the pleasure, and his head was buzzing, almost distracting him from the hot coil in his stomach. When your pussy clenched from the waves of your orgasm, it was over for him. The feeling exploded all over him, and he fucked you through it, chanting your name like a prayer as he finished.

Tired and spent, he leaned forward and rested on your back. His head was a daze, filled with such much joy that he didn't know it was even possible. He pressed a few lazy kisses to your back as you panted, tipping your head back to look at him with a smile. After a minute, he pulled out of you, tied off the condom, and tossed it somewhere toward the trash. He would get it later. You slipped into his arms, resting your head against his slightly sweaty chest.

"That was perfect," he said, still trying to catch his breath. He played with the hair that fell over your face, pushing it behind your ear.

"I love you, Armitage," you said, and he decided he would never get tired of those words.

"I love you more, darling," he responded.

"Most."

"Moster."

"Mostest," he chuckled with his face buried in your hair. You settled into contented silence, gazing out the window to space.

"I should really go clean up," you murmured.

"Can I join you? We have 18 hours to kill, after all," he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

AN: thanks so much for reading!! asks are always open for requests or feedback, and i'd love to hear from you!

[valaryswrites]

🪐 where kylo calls hux and order him to fuck you while he watches (and he loves it)

warnings: smut & english is not my first language

The idea sounded exquisite to you. For some reason, it was Kylo Ren who brought it up. He was a man that could never share, unless he really wanted to. And god, he really wanted to this time.

"Your request caught me by surprise, Ren." Hux said, unbuttoning his uniform, standing right next to the bed where you were laying, already naked. "But I'm quite excited for it, I must say."

"Mhm." Kylo nodded, sitting in a chair next to the bed, watching you realize what was going to happen. "I'll be watching you." He said to you, almost in a whisper. "Every touch, every word, every look you give him. I'll be envious. Jealous." He swore. "Enjoying it."

"Any rules, Ren? Before we start?" Hux asked, taking off his belt.

"I won't give you any orders, General. I want you to use your best judgement. Use her."

"Use?" You asked, quite surprised to hear that word.

"Yes. To use." Kylo said, with a grin. "You're a toy tonight."

Hux laughed a little, and you notice how hard he was under his uniform trousers. He lean in, giving you a kiss. A passionate kiss. His tongue was in your mouth, dancing with yours. And Kylo watched, eyes locked on the two of you.

It felt weird to kiss another mouth, but it felt exquisite too.

"That's it, General..." Ren said, adjusting himself in the chair next to the bed. "Show me how much you desire her. I've seen you watching her in meetings. Show me, and do anything and everything you wish. But..." He said, and Hux stopped kissing you, breathing heavily, to look at him. "... Don't forget to bring her back to me in one piece. She is still mine, after all."

Those words made you feel a desperate warmth all over your body. Hux smiled and continued, kissing your neck and stroking your hair a little. He went further, biting your collarbone and even leaving some marks. You tought Kylo would get mad, but he didn't. You pictured your Master caressing himself over his trousers. Teasing himself, slowly.

"Good, General." Kylo said, breathing heavily, but still sounding demanding. "You really know how to worship a woman's body, don't you?" Hux nodded, but without talking; his mouth was wondering all over your breasts. "You have to be gentle with her. But firm. Very firm." As he speaks, he keeps touching himself over his uniform.

"Your woman is delicious, Ren." Hux said, going down on you and leaving traces of saliva everywhere.

"She's more than that, General. She's the finest piece of flesh you've ever touched." Kylo smiles, looking at your face. "Remember to be firm with her. Don't hold back. Use all of that strength, energy and desire I know you have. Let her feel it."

After that order, Hux knew he had to obey. He wanted to obey. While eating you, as if you were a plate of food to a hungry man, he spanked you. And you groaned in pleasure.

The more exciting part, was turning your head to Kylo and see him stroking his cock freely now. Still wearing his leather gloves, now covered in his own saliva. He smirked before talking to the General, without taking his eyes off you.

"She likes that, General." He said. "I think it's time for you to give her what she really wants. Don't hold back just because you're sharing her with me."

Hux lifted up his face, licking his lips and teeth like an animal. Without any warning, he grabbed you by your waist and moved you even nearer to him, caressing your entrance with the tip of his cock.

Kylo stood up and walked towards you, kneeling next to bed, with his head next to yours.

"Tell the General what you want, baby." He whispered in your ear, and you could listen the sound of his leather gloves wrapping and moving up and down around his cock.

You tried to speak, but the stimulation was too much.

"Use your words." Ren said, demanding.

"For god's sake, fu-fuck me, General..." You managed to speak, and some laughter came out from the throats of the two men around you.

"Lord, she feels fantastic..." Hux said, after finally sliding himself into you. "I envy you... Getting to f-fuck her every... single... day..." He said between harder thrusts.

"Give me a good show, General." Kylo ordered. "She likes what you're doing to her, so keep using her." You were unable to speak. "But... she can also do some convincing. She know exactly what to say to get you to do whatever she wants."

"Then tell me..." Hux begged, trying not to cum all over you already.

"Go fast... faster." You thought it was impossible to use your words, but you did. This lust was something you've never experienced.

"Come on, baby..." Kylo whispered in your ear, still stroking himself but this time even faster. "Say it louder to the General."

"Faster!" You said in a scream, knowing for sure that the Knights of Ren heard you from the other side of the door.

And Hux delivered without any problem. His orange hair was dripping wet and looking so messy, you never thought you would see the General like this. So desperate, without the good manners he usually has towards you.

"Isn't she a lovely sight, General? Don't hold back, you can be harder than that. I want you to be harder." Kylo demanded, as he grabbed you by your hair and forced you to look at him. "Look at me, baby..." He whispered between some groaning. "I'm fucking my hand wishing it was you... Watching how another takes you... In-Infront of me..." You opened your mouth and instead of a word, it was only a loud moan what came out. Hux hit a good spot in a rough way.

"She's a noisy one, General." Kylo said, looking at the redhead now, who was already smiling.

"I'm not sure... I'm not sure I can't hold it any longer, Lord..." Hux said, struggling to speak.

"You can't go yet, General." Kylo denied, and then whispered in your ear. "Turn around." He ordered you. "Let him cum by taking you in all fours. And you'll watch me." Ren was totally lost in pleasure, sounding so mean and desperate it could only make you feel even more aroused.

You didn't even have to move, they did it for you and you end up in all fours, with your head looking directly at the chair where Kylo sit again. His stomach was covered in cum, and that's how you knew that Kylo was having fun, and fucking himself for the second time now.

While Hux kept fucking you, you tried your best to keep your eyes opened.

The sight was beautiful; Kylo Ren, a man respected and feared all over the galaxy, playing with his own cock while his General was using you. Looking directly at your eyes. And while doing so, he spoke.

"Cum already, General." Ordered. "All over her. I don't care. She doesn't care either. But you, my love..." He now said to you. "You don't get to finish. You'll hold it in for me." The moment he said that, Hux couldn't help but cum inside you. The man was exhausted. "Because after the General leaves, I'm going to fuck you again, and again, and again... And I'll be the one to make you cum."

After saying those words, Kylo finished in his leather covered hands once again. And you were just there, breathing heavily in the bed, while Hux was dressing himself.

"It was a pleasure, Ren." The General said, right next to the door. Kylo approached him, taking his gloves off.

"You did good, General." Kylo said, stretching out his hand to shake Hux's. "I might call you soon, again." You heard him say, and you couldn't help but let go a mischievous smile. It was Kylo's turn now.

[moonlightshaiku]

Kissing Hux

In everything Hux does he goes for the jugular, and kissing is no different.

He loves giving special attention to your neck, so much so, that you have to be on guard lest anything is left in his wake.

He's less sweet and more "begrudgingly and tiredly affectionate", so anything that's sweet and/or soft is probably prior to caf or in the name of comfort.

He usually kisses close-mouthed. Biting occasionally, but he'll never use his tongue unless his partner initiates.

He'll hold on to your face or shoulders in a stern grip, pressing his body to yours. Hux runs rather cold, but due to his uniform layers, is warm to the touch. His neck is always warm and ruddy, hands cold and pale.

As soon as Hux steps out of the shuttle, hair mussed, he's in front of you. It's night, and the hangar is relatively empty, so he gathers your face in his hands.

Kylo climbs out of the shuttle behind him, ragged and dirt-covered, mask off. He rolls his eyes, boots clicking on the ground as he steps away from you both, giving you privacy.

As soon as Kylo is out of sight, Hux breathes. "Maker." He presses a kiss to your jaw, then to the corner of your lips.

You interrupt the inevitable, "I missed you," with your lips, and he reciprocates eagerly. He pulls himself closer to you as you kiss, he smells like sweat and his cologne. He's a bit too warm, you wonder why.

Once he's pressed firmly to you, he grabs your hair, pulling your head back slowly. He presses a kiss to your neck over your uniform, breath hot on the underside of your chin.

[starlightsearches]

Sad wet pathetic Hux… or… Sadistic asshole Hux? 🤭

The Being Unknown

Thank you so much for this request, Lena! Sorry it took me so long 😬 I was overcome with horny visions that led to no writing, but sad wet pathetic Hux ultimately won the battle! Edit: retitled this one. Used to be called “She Is Mine”

AN: Guess who's back? Hopefully nobody else is sick of this arranged marriage AU yet because I'm definitely not! This one's mainly hurt/comfort with some very low lows and some new highs! We've got incredibly jealous and pathetic Hux for your enjoyment uwu. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, my loves!

Armitage tugs at the collar of his dress uniform, restless, wishing he could manage to ignore the crushing emptiness that's threatening to swallow him.

This is hardly the worst slight he's ever experienced. There had been hundreds of embarrassments and affronts to his pride—not even considering the deep aches from his childhood and their lingering stings.

So why is it this one that has him feeling like he's dying?

The answer is there—right in front of him, as it were—but even that is too painful. Armitage can't manage to meet your eyes.

And his hopes had been so high. Only hours ago there had been that singing, almost giddy feeling in his chest as you clung to his arm, walking with him into the glimmering party—the wide-eyed look of wonder and a smile on your face that the sip from his glass of Correlian whiskey only managed to dampen for a moment.

It had been beautiful. Perfect, even. The exact kind of moment he had been waiting for since he first laid eyes on you. The kind of moment that reflected the depth of his feeling.

The kind of moment where he might have the words to express his devotion.

And then there had been that man.

Armitage's vision goes black at the edges, even now, just thinking about the scene—the look on your face when you recognized this old friend, his possessive leering, the mockery in his tone and that sly gaze he'd shared with Armitage just out of your line of sight.

"You wouldn't mind, of course, general, if I stole your wife for just a moment?"

Armitage would mind. He minded very much.

And, still, on the exterior he had remained stoic, gracious even, had watched you walk out those gaping doors into the dim blue of the gardens, another man's hand pressed into the small of your back.

One of the other guests near the bar had called him brave, the mockery in his tone and the snide laughter of the others perfectly communicating that they all, including Armitage, were thinking the exact same thing.

His wife, secluded in the thick, dark branches of drooping trees, sheltered away from prying eyes, her feverish kisses in the darkness and eager, reaching hands.

Your obvious hunger for someone, for anyone, else.

His mouth had bled with the force of his teeth cutting into the meat of his cheek, and he had washed it away with slow, stinging sips of drink after drink.

Off the transport, the heels of your shoes click sharply, echoing in the empty halls and the hollow space behind his eyes, and your hand feels stolid and limp as it clings to his arm, the walls of his hurt and anger keeping you far from him.

The air in his quarters is stifling, and Armitage rips at the fastening of his collar until it snaps, but there's no help, no aid. Just a roiling nausea and the shake in his fingers that can't be quelled.

"Armitage?"

Your hand at his shoulder, voice sweet and ripe with a hurt he can't see. He won't meet your eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

Yes. He drops into a seated position on the plush couch, every line of him weary, every heartbeat a withering ache.

He has to face it. Despite himself, despite the longing and the fierceness and the depth of his need, Armitage knows that he has done you wrong. He has trapped you here, trapped you in this marriage without any real consent and against your will, trapped you in his permanent misery.

And that is something he cannot bear any longer.

Armitage leans heavily on his forearms, propped up by his knees, and rubs the sting from his eyes before meeting your gaze, still stunned, as always, to be in your presence.

"I consider your marital responsibilities to me fulfilled."

Hurt etches every aspect of your features, your steps hesitant before you fall into the space beside him. Your hand reaches for him, fingers trembling, never making contact.

"Armitage, I don't understand."

He swallows, continues, "this union has met the needs of my position and the contract between your father and the First Order, and there is no more I can expect from you. If you wish to find satisfaction for your- your romantic desires elsewhere, with proper discretion, I will not stand in your way."

The hand that had reached for him flashes back, pressed against your lips and there are tears in your eyes, catching the light, shimmering against dark lashes.

Your mouth trembles, unable to form the words you need. Maybe you'll thank him. Maybe you'll never speak to him again.

"Please," you whisper, "I don't- is this about Andres?"

Just hearing the other man's name is like a knife slid into the vulnerable spaces between his ribs, and he reminds himself that this is what he deserves, that it's only a fraction of the pain he must have caused you.

The look in his eyes must be answer enough. You stare at each other in the silence, and he waits for the end.

Your fingers are chill, the feeling unexpected, when they brush against his cheek, smoothing over the the sharp contours of his face. It's a gentle gesture, as if you're wiping away tears he knows are not there.

"Andres is an old friend," you tell him, quiet, kind, and something else he can't puzzle out, "but he is careless with his things, and with people."

That spike of anger returns, for a moment, washing away everything else.

"Was he careless with you?"

Fragments of glitter that dust your skin catch in the light, disappearing and reappearing with each small shake of your head, as if by magic.

"I never let him close enough."

Armitage is close enough, and more aware of it than ever before, tasting the air you breathe, feeling the singing heat of your skin so near to his. But you must know that he is never careless.

You lean into the kiss he presses to your lips, part your mouth and sigh into his deep breaths as he tastes you.

And that same desperation is back, his body pressing yours into the cushions, the solid weight of you here, and for the first time, knowing you want to be.

A hand at your neck, that racing pulse, and your sweet, soft gasps, almost moans at the feeling of him.

Armitage finds himself sinking, once again, beneath that light-headed fear—that shaking, disorienting spark of your touch.

He wants to run from it. And he wants to stay.

"Do you want me to stop now?" He breathes the question against your lips, meets your eyes and finds them burning with your own hidden desires.

"No," you promise with the shake of your head, "never."

Oh.

[where-dreamers-go]

"Useful Frustrations" Armitage Hux x Reader

(A/N: Starkiller Base could have many frustrations for Reader, the cold and whatever passive aggressive conversation Ren and Hux were up to. Reader and Hux agree to work through their shared frustrations with intimate activities. I did my best to make this gender neutral. Warnings: MINORS DNI Angst, not exactly a romance happening, Hux is giving Reader a lot of attention with his mouth and fingers, some language, unprotected sex. Word Count: 1,823 words)

Keeping peace on Starkiller Base had not been in the job description. Almost an entire shift of it was frustrating. Even while being successful of keeping General Hux and Commander Ren civil enough on the bridge. The mental strength you had to pull that off should’ve given you an automatic promotion. But what you really wanted was shore leave. At that point in your career and life, you doubted it truly existed. But you could dream. Soft sandy beaches, the sound of birds, and Hux handing you a cool drink. Only a dream, you reminded yourself as your bare feet paced across the cold floor of your room. Meanwhile it’s babysitting duty for me.

The door to your quarters hissed open. General Hux let himself in to find you pacing, boots and jacket discarded on the floor. Professionalism was holding on by a thread. You were clearly worked up. You didn’t feel the need to explain yourself. “Forgive the…intrusion. I wanted to thank you in person and,” he exhaled, “express how impressive you were today.” You rose an eyebrow. “Although I must apologize that you felt the need to intervene in the first place. There should not have been an argument of that nature on the bridge.” “I…thank you for your words, general. At least you appreciate how much extra work I put out.” “And you’re frustration continues,” he observed. “Aren’t you?” An unspoken person of all irritation kept you two on the same page. Clearly. A common frustration. “I deal with it my own way,” he said. “Does it work?” You inquired with hands on your hips. His expression fell at your question. “I feel like I should go train to blow this over, but…” “People will question your emotions.” Hux stepped forward. “And you won’t?” You stood your ground, ready for a challenge or perhaps something else. “I believe we have more in common now.” He took another step closer. Less than an arms length away. He wasn’t challenging you nor reprimanding you. This is something else. “Except you’re still wearing boots,” you teased, hoping he might be inclined for an invitation. “I am. Should we have more in common?” You looked him over, feeling heat rush over you. One you only dared imagine in your mind before. You nodded. He grabbed your chin and peered into your eyes, searching for any secrets. “Do you want this?” Your heart beat drummed. You had one, a secret. And you wanted to know his. “Lock the door,” you whispered. The only order you had ever given him. Swiftly, he returned to the door and locked all access. Once his eyes were on you again, he closed the distance to you and your lips with great determination. Your fingers pinched at his coat. But you welcomed it eagerly.

What were you two doing? Were you out of your mind?

Parting for air in gasps, the pair of you stared at one another. Both doing your best to read the other. Hands still holding tightly to fabric — First Order issued attire. But there were droids to fix wrinkles. “Don’t stop.” Your voice came out small, so tired. Hux brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “I won’t.” He stole a kiss and another, hungry for this new activity. This new emotion. His lips pressed against your neck, under your ear. “Hux,” grabbing at his belt, you tilted your neck. “It’s Armitage,” he announced before pulling up your black shirt. Armitage? Warmth blossomed in your chest. He discarded your shirt and his gloves before bringing his lips to your bare shoulder. Each press and pull of his lips brought a sort of haze to your sense. As if only what you two did mattered; not even the elements of your quarters could hold your attention. Too much fabric. You pushed his overcoat over his shoulders and he moved to let it drop in a heap onto the cold floor. “Stupid co—” Armitage interrupted you with a passionate kiss that would have had you stumbling back if not for his arms bringing you in close. Bodies pressed together enough to feel the other’s breathing pattern. Rapid, as it was, given the…emotional and physical expressions. It was a wonder and perhaps a living fantasy when your finger carded through his neat fiery hair. Always well combed and styled each day. He groaned against your lips and tugged you closer. Very close. You gasped as you felt more of him. Another wave of heat passed over your skin. Better than heat of frustration. A general of the First Order was in your quarters. Neither of you were following proper protocol, not that you knew what this could be labeled. Physical venting? An emotional workout? Whatever it was, you didn’t want it to end just yet.

“May I?” He panted. You nodded, “Yeah.” Determined hands unclasped your belt. A ghost of a smirk curved his lips. “How’s,” you swallowed, “that frustration?” Thumbs under the waistband of your trousers, Armitage glanced up. “It’s lower.” With how his tone lowered, you let your own gaze drop. “Oh.” That looks uncomfortably strained. Pushing down your trousers, Armitage made a satisfied hum in his throat. “For a moment on the bridge, I half expected you to yell at your superior officers. Your frustration could be felt even if you hid it well.” His fingertips roamed your skin, leaving heat and chills in their wake. “I may have yelled, but only in here. You just missed it,” you mused. “Then you are better than certain superiors of yours.” His gaze switched from you to your cot and back again. “With some things…I hope so,” keeping his gaze you removed your undergarments. “But I prefer one…specific superior of mine.” You placed your open palm over his clothed abdomen. “Favoritism will get you everywhere,” Armitage rushed you over to the cot. “On your back,” he panted as he watched you. “Perfect.” Heat, tremendous warmth spread through your skin. Were really doing this, you thought, gazing up at him. You swallowed dryly as he spread your legs wide. “I think I’ll extend my thanks,” he announced wishfully and ducked his head between your legs. You gasped as his mouth touched your sensitive skin. His tongue whirled around your nerves. Oh my— Taking what he could, Hux sucked and lightly nibbled your skin. Fists clasping the cot, you struggled for even a single breath. “Armitage,” you gasped. His acknowledged hum heightened the pleasure radiating through your system. Hands held your thighs until he maneuvered his right hand to your entrance. An index finger made its way in as you whined. He continued mouthing at you and thrusting more fingers into you as essence of time faded from your mind.

What was time when your shift was over? What was a uniform when it was wrinkled on the cold floor? What were quarters for if you were not sleeping in it? What were occupations and ranks when not in use? Who was a general when his pupils were dilated and fingers knuckle-deep into a lower-ranking officer?

Back arching off of the cot, your legs tried squeezing together. Armitage grunted, but did not give up his pace. Not until I’m—oh. “Armi—!” You gasped in midst of trying to inform him. Luckily for you, he enjoyed your sudden shaking orgasm. The vulnerability and unhidden reaction. Muscles relaxing, you peered up to see Hux licking his glistening lips. “Wow.” You smiled up at him. “Better?” He asked. “That was some ‘thank you’.” “I don’t go around Base thanking anyone.” Slowly, you sat up. “Has anyone ‘thanked’ you?” He scoffed, “People try for promotions not ‘thank you’s or…” Your heart throbbed for him, frustrations set aside. You rubbed his upper arms, still clothed as they were. “Or what?” He gaze fell away. Keeping to himself as much as he kept himself tight in his uniform. You dared not push. If you tried crossing a line he wanted for his own, you didn’t want the repercussions. Somewhere deep down, you didn’t want to be brushed aside. You didn’t want to be a number or a figurine on a game set. Not for a long time. Leaning forward, you kissed Armitage’s forehead. Blue eyes met your gaze, a hidden sadness lay within. “No one attempts to know me not without wanting to use it for their own gain,” he answered. A frown creased your face and you commented plainly, “Ren really is an ass.” Eyes only widening for a second, he smirked. “The bane of all my frustrations. And a great deal of yours.” He gave your thighs a light squeeze. “Ever the observant general,” you teased. “I must be.” “Then you must know about your situation.” His gaze lowered to the tent in his dark trousers. “Hard not to notice.” Despite yourself, you chuckled and moved your left hand to palm him. Exhaling sharply, Hux lifted his pelvis to meet your hand.

Still seeing him in his uniform struck you again how crazy the situation was. He was wearing this earlier, you thought as you rubbed him, arguing with Ren. That entitled commander…looking for any opportunity to push Hux down. “You needed this earlier,” you muttered. Quick, fair skinned fingers undid his trouser and pushed it down to his knees. Patience dwindling as Hux pulled you onto his lap. Whatever remnants of your release remained, he coated his member. The rate of your heartbeat picked up once more.

Who cared about promotions when connections could be made? Who cared about networking when you could be in someone’s arms? Who could give a single care if the commander ruined a whole console in a fit when you took Armitage into your warmth? Lips parted, Armitage looked at you as if you both discovered a great secret. One that would be yours to share. A secret that could help you both more than planned. Hands clasping dearly to his shoulders, you rolled your hips with his in a rhythm that had him gripping your hips harder. Staring at one another made it difficult to focus on breathing. But when else did you get the chance to interact with him uninterrupted? So what if it was all crazy or probably against fifteen rules? “Kriff,” you held him tighter. His grip on you allowed him to increase your pace. Each thrust gave you a world of pleasure. It built higher and higher until you squeezed your eyes shut. Hux’s lips pressed against your ear, “Let all your frustrations go. I have something better.” Crying his name, you fell over the edge before he filled you with all he could. No regrets of time spent. No more irritation from a long day. You and your general laid on your cot for another hour enjoying the new partnership. For you both knew there would be another day where venting wouldn’t be enough.

~~~ (If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~ DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle Star Wars Tags: @sweetheartliz07 @

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.

[tomatette]

Anyone want to join the Hux Discord server? I'll be perfectly honest, it probalby has a surplus of Kyluxers, but any Hux-related ship (or just Hux) is welcome.

If you're 18+, open-minded and would like to join us, either comment on this post, reblog it or send me a pm for an invite :)

[tremendouscreationperson]

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Reader Queen Charlotte Au

You are Charlotte, he is George

There are elements of "magic"/the force, hope it's not awful. I don't usually write for Kylo

It had been months. Almost seven months since you had the pleasure of seeing your husband. You two were an arranged marriage and by all accounts the separation should've been blissful, except it wasn't. You missed him. He was dark and broody but he was kind to you. He treated you with such devotion that you couldn't have stopped the growing feelings.  

Your mind often wandered, imagining what he could possibly be doing. What that slimy advisor Snoke would be forcing him to do. Snoke was ancient and you suspected that had something to do with the dark magic he practised. The man was powerful but nothing compared to Kylo’s potential.

You supported the pursuit of knowledge and would never deprive your husband of his calling however you had told him to steer clear of the dark side. It was basic knowledge, blood magics and dark spells took a toll and you just so happened to enjoy Kylo's company. You would be distraught if anything was to happen to him. 

You'd find out what was going on soon enough. Having ordered Hux to take you to him after you both rolled your eyes at another excuse, both suspicious and annoyed at the blatant lies they were feeding their Queen. Hux, bless him, had tried to get any information he could for you and he had actually become something of a companion in your lonesome months. 

The estate came into view and you had to force your body still. Eager enough to see your King that you could tear the carriage door open and sprint to him. It was a testament to your upbringing that you didn't, instead just bouncing one leg as the horses leisurely trotted up to the entrance. 

Staff had seen you arrive and were waiting to greet their Queen with apprehensive, almost frightened expressions.

Your door was opened and you stepped out of the cart with ease being led a few paces to a man who you vaguely recognised as the King's Secretary. 

“Your Majesty, what a pleasant surprise.” He bowed. “Do forgive us, we weren't expecting company.” 

You were never a fan of this man, he was cold to you (as most were) in the beginning and you couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't looking out for the King's best interest. He cared for the monarchy, yes, but not for Kylo. Perhaps that was why you responded sarcastically, “I didn't realise I needed an invitation to my own estate.

The man’s smile tightened and you could see his jaw flex. “Of course not, shall we prepare some tea to relax you from your long journey?” He gestured to the entrance stairs. 

You shook your head. “I am here for my husband.” 

That visibly changed all of the staff's posture. Everyone stiffened; everyone's eyes widened displaying pity. The man in front of you was no different but he had the unfortunate task of addressing the Queen. “H-he is training at this present moment. I don't think it is wise to-”

“Hux?” You interrupted. “Did we come all this way for tea?” 

“No, your Majesty.” Hux responded. He was just as tired as you. Why were they stalling your meeting? What had become of Kylo during these months? Was he harmed? Was he distant? 

“Then I suggest we find my husband.” You hiked up your skirts and strode, past everyone, up the stairs. 

This house was one of the largest and you had only been here twice so suffice to say you were lost without guidance but you kept your head held high and made it your mission to find a study. Where else would the training be? Perhaps outside but you would search the gardens after you'd finished inside. 

You entered and exited countless empty rooms, they were decorated but void of life. As though they hadn't been touched in years, of course they were dusted and kept fresh but you knew your husband hadn't been in them. You could tell.

“Hux, am I going mad?” You sighed. “Have we been going in circles?” 

“No, we haven't.” Your shadow replied. “Pryde. Are you intentionally vexing your Queen?” 

The other man was clearly uncomfortable. “I am trying to spare her.” 

“What does that mean?” You frowned. What was he sparing you from? Why would he feel the need? “Elaborate!”

Pryde’s mouth opened and closed before he relented. “I will take you to the King, but do remember Snoke has deemed this necessary and sworn us to secrecy.” 

You were frantically nodding and motioned for him to lead the way. Pryde led you to a set of stairs and descended down to what you assumed was the servants quarters. It was refreshing to see a space that was lived in but worrisome that the King was not present upstairs. Pryde walked even further down and brought you and Hux into a cavaness pathway. It was dark and dank and smelt awful but you pushed on. 

Hux was quick to steady you as you walked on uneven rocks, one arm under yours and the other on top. Your anxiety was through the roof and in the moment you didn't care, your fingers weaved through his and you squeezed his hand for support. 

You were holding hands before you heard the scream. 

“Is that-?” Your words were cut off by another louder howl. You noticed Pryde had paled when he gave you a nod. 

The nod was all you needed to sprint. You'd dropped Hux’s hand in order to hold your skirts and you bolted (as fast as one could in a corseted gown) towards the noise. 

The screaming hadn't ceased but it was less frequent as you stumbled towards a now visible door. 

“Open it!” You demanded and Pryde's shaky hands found the key chain but could not stay still enough to pick the correct one. You snatched the metal from his hand and tried two before the third unlocked the bulky door.

Two guards were quick to step back as you forced your way into the room. 

“I am not to be interrupted!” Snoke yelled at the door. He was facing away from you, staring at the pathetic body strapped to a chair. Your heart lurched when you saw the body for who it was. Your husband was chained to the chair, his body convulsing and muttering.

“UNCHAIN HIM!” Your voice demanded.  

Snoke jumped at your voice and quickly gave you a bow. “My Qu-” 

“What are you waiting for? Unchain the King!” You didn't know your voice could get that loud, that angry, but it had the desired effect. Two servants undid his shackles and stared at you awaiting their next order. “Get. Out.”

The words juxtaposed the previous shout. They were quiet, still full of venom but barely a whisper. Despite this the five men in the room heard them and they were quick to make their exits. 

Now you and Hux stood in the dark room, both scanning your husband trying to keep your eyes on him and not the room. There were candles lighting shelves of books, there were doctors tools on an unsanitary side table, large weapons attached to the wall, dark stains on the floors and walls and an obscene amount of shackles.

“Kylo.” You whispered, taking slow steps towards him. 

Your husband didn't respond. He didn't even look at you. He was physically in the room but you could tell mentally he was elsewhere. 

You steeled yourself and forced the tremors in your hands to cease before delicately reaching out to his left cheek - a scar that looked painful adorned his right. The pads of your fingers barely made contact when Kylo jerked away. His eyes landed on you but there was no recognition. 

“K-Kylo?” You tried again and this time he let you touch him. “Ben?” There was a spark behind his dark eyes but as soon as it appeared it vanished. 

What had gone on in this room? What happened to your love? 

Putting on the calmest, soothing voice you asked, “Ben, can you sit up?” 

The man didn't respond - could he? - but he did as you asked. There were a few winces as he sat upright but otherwise he made no complaint. 

“I'm going to put a hand on your back.” You let him know your actions beforehand and he didn't jolt at the touch. “And I'm going to bring you forward.” Kylo allowed you to guide him towards you. Letting you rest his head on your chest. 

You remember when you'd first realised he was just slightly shorter than you when sitting. It was a fond memory, one that ended in shared laughter and passionate kissing. But now the memory would be tainted. Now you could only see how small he was. He wasn't an imposing figure, merely a hurt man. 

With the hand that rested on his back you traced nonsensical shapes and patterns. The other hand found itself untangling his hair. It had gotten longer, left unbrushed and uncut.

“It's okay Ben.” You repeated the words to him, laying your cheek on top of his head. It didn't matter that he didn't recognise you, nor that he wasn't hugging you back, the only thing that did matter was that he was okay. That he was calm enough to leave this place. 

You had no idea how long you stood there kissing his crown and promising things were okay. No idea how long Hux, forever your shadow, watched you both. 

You'd taken to humming and tracing ‘I love you's on his spine when the King pulled away from your embrace. He was present in the room, you could tell immediately from his eyes. 

The implications being that he had seen a false vision of you stung your heart. “Of course I'm real, love.” 

The same eyes that were staring into your soul. Eyebrows pinches and mouth agape. He muttered your name before croaking, “are you real?”

Kylo's hands left his side and found themselves on your hips. You could see his wrists were cut and bruised from being chained but forced your gaze elsewhere. He took a deep breath before nodding to himself. “Yes, you are.” 

“I missed you.” You caressed his cheek. “And I love you.” 

The words had hardly left your lips when he was responding. “I love you.” It was desperate. He needed you to know. 

You both embraced each other fully. His face in the crook of your neck as you hunched to hug him. His trembling fingers clutched the fabric of your dress on your spine, barely grazing your nape. There were a few sniffles but no tears fell, you made sure to check; being as careful as you could to swipe under each eye.

“How are you here?” Kylo's voice was less hoarse now, clearer as you imagine was his mind. 

“I missed you and I forced Hux to bring me.” Your fingers carded through his locks. “I wish I came sooner.” 

“No, this- this is necessary.” He looked ashamed. “Snoke said this was needed to be a great ruler.” 

“I think it is time we stopped listening to that dinosaur.” The first syllable of your name formed on his lips but you shook your head. “Shh, we can discuss that later.” You glanced over your shoulder at Hux in the doorway. “How long was the walk here?”

“Fifteen or twenty minutes?” Hux shrugged one shoulder. “It felt longer.”

“Right, love.” You held Kylo's chin. “Are you able to stand?” 

Kylo considered your question, doubt splattered across his whole being. His eyes scanned your face before they met Hux over your shoulder. He nodded. “Of course. I may need help.” 

Hux was immediately at his side. You scooted your skirts out of Kylo's way and propped an arm under his. You and Hux, together, hoisted Kylo upright. His legs were wobbly from disuse but he forced himself to be strong. He didn't want you to see him in this pathetic state, the least he could do was walk in a semi-straight line. 

The height difference did interfere with you helping but Kylo placed a sturdy hand on your shoulder and allowed you to take what weight Hux wasn't holding up. 

If walking to the torture room was hard walking from it was impossible. Your heels caught and ankles twisted, Kylo's winces echoed through the cavern and Hux slipped on what you sincerely hoped was water. The three of you eventually emerged from the hallway after several breaks and you'd never been happier to see servants quarters. 

A pink Hux puffed out a breath, leaning his palm on his thigh. “Sorry, your Majesty.” 

“It's completely fine.” You dismissed the apology, out of breath yourself. “My husband is pure muscle.” A hand met his peck and you smiled up to him. 

Kylo smirked down at you and fixed your hair. He must have knocked your headpiece askew when in the dark. “You're beautiful.” 

The conviction in which he spoke always had you bashful. “Stop.” 

“It's true.” 

“Kylo, come on.” 

“I love you.” 

“And I you.” 

His smile widened, pulling at the edge of his scar. He didn't let that dampen the mood but you could see the pain behind his eyes. 

“Hux?” You tore your gaze away from the King. “Can you draw a bath for the King? And have a room prepared, I will need my things brought as we will be moving here until the King is better.” 

Hux nodded once and left to fulfil the tasks. 

Kylo spoke once Hux’s footsteps had stopped, “you don't have to move here.” 

“Of course, I do.” You spoke, leaving no room for arguments. “Once you're better we can decide where to live but before I will stay by your side.” 

“I can only get better by doing what we were in that room.” His eyes flickered back at the door you'd just closed. 

“No. No more of that.” 

“It’s-” 

“No Kylo. I refuse that.” Your head shook. “I will not allow that.” 

“But Sno-” 

“Snoke doesn't matter.” 

“He helps-” 

But you refused to have that creature defended. Snoke was a disease that should be eradicated. “If you do one thing for me in this marriage. Just one. It is to leave that behind. You don't need magic to be a good ruler, you are one.” You plead. “I will do anything you ask if you leave those - that torture - behind.” 

“He-” Kylo bit his cheek, the words leaving him in stuttered half sentences. “He said you'd- said you'd get hurt. You'd-” 

“Kylo, please. You can't believe that.” 

“I don't know.” His eyes found the floor. "I've seen- I don't know."

You captured his hands in yours and plastered a bright smile on your face. “Look, we will talk more about this after your bath, after arrangements are made and when we are settled in bed.” 

The two of you steadily made your way to your allocated bedroom. There was a tub that had been filled and luckily was devoid of any oils or soaps. You were loath to find out if the scarring ran underneath his sweat stained clothes, you couldn't handle causing him any more pain. 

“Right, love, are you ready for a bath?"

Kylo gave you a nonverbal nod. 

You grinned at him and helped him out of the tunic. He had no cuts or scars but there were bruises along his ribs and, once the trousers were off, his hip. 

“Are you able to get into the tub?” 

He merely nodded again and eased himself in the water. 

You helped him by washing his back and shoulders. Scrubbing his nails and cleaning his chest. It didn't matter that the front of your dress was damp and your corset wasn't made for you to bend in this fashion. Kylo leaned his head back and let his hair fan out in the water.

He looked so peaceful. 

Like he had when you first met him. 

His eyes were shut and the shadow his lashes created hid the dark spots under each eye. You had carefully cleaned his scar and it looked a lot better now there was no dried blood. 

He looked at ease. 

“My love.” You hummed, tracing his facial features. 

“Yes?” He cracked open a tired eye. 

“I'm so happy to be with you again.” You bent to kiss the tip of his nose. 

He angled his face and captured your lips instead. A gasp left you and you allowed him to lead the kiss until a yawn erupted from him. 

“Come on, let's get you to bed.” You rose from the side of the tub and helped him out of the dirty water. You wrapped a towel around his midsection and pointed him towards your shared bed. 

He noted your pause as he sat on the mattress. “Are you not joining me?” 

“I am, although, I do just want to make sure Hux has everything in order before I settle.” 

Kylo looked visibly distressed at the mere idea you were leaving. 

“I promise I will be back.” He didn't look relieved. “Here-” you took your ring off and handed it to him. “-I will be back for that.”

“Your mother's ring.” Kylo held the metal as though it was a baby bird, it was so very precious he was afraid of breaking it.

“You know I'd do anything for that ring.” You kissed his crown. “I will be back for it.” 

Leaving Kylo was very hard. You didn't want to and you knew he was anxious for your return but you had to see Hux. You needed to know everything would be okay before you relaxed. 

Your secretary was having a hushed discussion with Pryde. Each party looked unamused. 

“Hux.” You announced your entrance. “My things?” 

“On route, your Majesty.” 

“And Snoke?” 

“He is still on the premises. He's in the study.”

“Pryde.” The other man straightened. “I will let you stay for now but the second my husband is uncomfortable with you, you are gone.” 

He nodded and you turned on your heel to deal with the creature. 

“Your Majesty.” Snoke addressed you. “Allow me to explain my methods.” 

“No.” 

He raised his non-eyebrow. “But if you would just listen.”

“I have allowed you to corrupt and harm my husband for too long. You are to leave and never return. If I could order you to be destroyed without corrupting my soul I would, but I can't. I wish you the life you deserve.” You glanced at Hux. “Make sure he leaves.” 

With that you returned to Kylo. On route you caught a maid and asked her to loosen your dress. Blessedly, she did it with ease and the bodice was off with no problem. Once that was off you undid your top skirt and stepped out of it. You untied the hoop skirt and left that on the floor too with your undershirt and stockings. You placed the crown on a side table and unpinned your locks. Arriving at the door naked you slipped into the room and smiled at his dozing body. 

He had fallen asleep sitting up awaiting your arrival. Your ring was still clutched in his hand and you just took him in. He was so handsome. You'd never tire of his appearance. 

You sat yourself on the side of the bed and plucked your ring from him, sliding it back onto your right hand. 

“Kylo, darling, let's lay down.” You shuffled him down into a more comfortable position. One eye cracked open and he pulled you in close. 

“Love you.” He muttered into your ear. 

“I love you, more."