#armitage 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!!

[lemongingerart]

Another lovely chapter that made me feel giddy happy! But also one that felt like you and I share some more brain cells 👀😅 I swear there were at least 5 'ahhh are you kidding me' moments in this one! Things I've written already in my fic or in drafts, in different circumstances, but so very much the same 😁 I think stuff like the handcuffs, the phone call and the one-way see through windows are not that uncommon in -ahum- literature (but dammmmn girl you've written them so well!), but the gloves (I have a serious glove kink thanks to mr General 🫠 and I have the feeling more will follow) and that panicked moment about pregnancy and the solution pass the revue here too 🙈

I absolutely enjoy this series, I couldn't have wished for anything better during my sick time! A little bit of romantic and sexy times with our favourite general! Thank the stars for you writing it and someone reblogging it! Now - I'm going to regret this probably, or fatigue might take over - onto the next chapter!

INSUFFERABLE | General Hux x Reader Smut | pt. 3

INSUFFERABLE | General Hux x Reader Smut. 18+. MINORS DNI. This is a direct continuation. I absolutely love him and will write part 4.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Word count: 12.4K

Content warning: fem!reader x Hux; a few curse words; smut: slight dom/sub implications, hair pulling kink, gloves kink, power kink one might say, fingering, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex (unprotected), handcuffs, just filth really; catching feelings and using privileges not-so-morally, soft Hux appears wildly as well

Lees verder

[starlightsearches]

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

She Is Mine

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!

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.

[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"

[girl-next-door-writes]

I Miss You

Characters: Armitage Hux x reader

Summary: In the cold emptiness of space, you found warmth in General Hux’s rare vulnerability. As his walls falter and darkness encroaches, your bond deepens but grows uncertain. Now, you cling to hope, striving to be the one exception to his solitude amidst the silence of the stars.

Word Count: 1326 words

Prompt: I Miss You – Blink 182

A/N: This is one for the wonderful @caplanbuckybarnes for the decades challenge, for which I have taken a million prompts and am slowly getting through them.

The galaxy felt unbearably quiet tonight, as if the void of space was doing its best to swallow the silence. The distant hum of the Finalizer’s engines served as a constant reminder of the cold, unyielding world you had chosen when you joined the First Order. It had never been an easy path, and it certainly wasn’t one made for finding warmth or comfort. Yet somehow, against all odds, you found it in possibly the least likely person of all.

General Armitage Hux had always been an enigma, a man who wore the mask of precision and control as if it was a second skin. His eyes were often icy, and his words even colder. Yet, in rare moments when the facade slipped, you had seen the rawness behind his exterior, a vulnerability that he desperately tried to hide. That was what had drawn you in, what kept you up late, lingering in his quarters or in the control room long after your duties ended.

You leaned against the window of his quarters, staring out into the endless black of hyperspace. The stars blurred into thin lines, rushing past you as the ship cut through space. But your thoughts were elsewhere, pulled back to the moment you first saw him crack—just a little.

It was a routine debriefing that turned into a heated argument. Your opinions on a tactical matter clashed, his temper flaring as he berated you for questioning his judgment, the audacity of you as a lower ranking officer something that needed to be squashed. But then, for just a moment, his voice had faltered. A flicker of something haunted crossed his features, and you had instinctively reached out, placing a hand on his arm. The touch had lingered longer than it should have, and though, after the initial shock had worn off, he had turned away and you saw his resolve crumble ever so slightly. That was when everything changed.

The closeness that developed wasn’t intentional; it felt more like a gradual unravelling. The walls Hux kept around himself slowly began to lower, bit by bit, until you found yourself in a strange kind of intimacy with the man who had once been nothing more than a superior officer. It was in the late hours of the night, when no one else was around, that he’d allow himself to be softer—when he’d speak quietly about his ambitions, his bitterness, and the loneliness that seemed to follow him like a shadow.

Yet here you were now, standing alone, the emptiness in the room mirroring the emptiness in your chest. The past few weeks had been different. He had been distant, colder than usual, as if retreating back into his shell. It wasn’t anger, at least not towards you; it was something darker, like a slow spreading toxicity, something that felt like a wall coming back up, shutting you out. You hadn’t spoken about it, afraid that if you pushed too hard, it would drive him away completely. But you couldn't ignore the feeling that you were losing him, or perhaps that you had never truly had him at all.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed, where a data pad lay discarded. The screen showed Hux's latest report—cold and impersonal, like everything else these days. But then, as you glanced to the side, you saw something out of place: a crumpled piece of paper on the floor beside his desk. You hadn’t meant to invade his privacy, but it pulled you in like a magnet.

Smoothing out the paper against the desk, your fingertips brushed over the indentations of his handwriting. The note, written in his neat but hurried script, sent a shiver through you. It was a confession, quiet and resigned.

'I cannot sleep. This sick, strange darkness seeps into my bones, haunting me, taunting me. I think that maybe I was designed to be alone.'

These were thoughts meant to be kept private, a glimpse into the depths of his despair. You couldn’t tell if he’d written them as a reminder to himself or as a desperate attempt to exorcise the truth he feared most—that for all his power, for all his carefully crafted control, Hux was losing a battle against the loneliness that clawed at him from within, your heart ached at the thought. You hadn’t been there to cure his loneliness, nor did you believe you could. But you had hoped to be an exception to the solitude, a small spark of warmth in the otherwise cold existence he led. If he truly believed himself destined to be alone, where did that leave you?

The sound of the door hissing open startled you out of your thoughts. Hux entered, his expression stoic as always, but there was something different in his eyes—something wary, as if he had been caught off guard seeing you here.

“Working late?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you replied, forcing a small, strained smile. “Thought I’d stay up and…keep myself occupied.”

He glanced at the data pad on the bed, then at the crumpled note on his desk. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and he crossed the room, his eyes locked onto the traitorous piece of paper. There was a moment of heavy silence, the kind that seemed to thrum with unspoken words. You couldn’t bear it any longer.

“I saw what you wrote,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “About being alone.”

Hux’s shoulders stiffened, and he looked away, his gaze fixing on some indeterminate point across the room. “That was nothing,” he replied curtly. “A passing thought.”

“No,” you said, more firmly. “It wasn’t. You don’t have to pretend with me, Armitage.”

His name slipped from your lips like a plea, and he flinched as if the intimacy of it stung. The vulnerability that flickered across his features was brief but unmistakable. He sighed heavily, his hands clenching in his lap as he sank down to sit on the edge of his bed, struggling for a moment to find the right words.

“It’s…foolish, isn’t it?” he murmured, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “To think that I could be anything other than what I am. I’m not made for…this.” He gestured vaguely, as if the very idea of closeness, of connection, was something foreign to him.

You took a breath, steadying yourself as you sat beside him and reached out, covering his hand with yours. “You don’t have to be anything other than who you are,” you said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone, either.”

He looked at your hand, as though unsure whether to pull away or hold on tighter. His hesitation spoke volumes, the doubt warring with a longing he could never fully express. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his fingers closed around yours, tentative but firm.

“I’m afraid,” he confessed, the words barely more than a breath. “Afraid that if I let this—let you—too close, I’ll lose the one thing that I can control.”

You squeezed his hand, offering a gentle smile that spoke of understanding and patience. “Then let me be the one thing you don’t have to control.”

For the first time in what felt like weeks, a faint warmth glimmered in his gaze. It wasn’t a grand declaration or an outpouring of emotion, but it was real, and it was enough. In that moment, you realized that maybe you hadn’t been trying to heal his loneliness at all; you had simply been trying to share it. And that, in its own way, was more powerful than any words you could have said.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, the hum of the Finalizer’s engines no longer felt so unbearably quiet. The silence between you was no longer empty—it was peaceful, filled with the promise of something more, together.

[charliedawn]

Alright alright, I worked up the courage to ask about Star Wars. Can I get a How they would kiss you preference for Star Wars? Aniken and Han Solo and any characters you might want.

Anakin :

The first time you kissed Ani, it was on the return of one of his missions and someone had told you that he had been hurt during said mission. You hadn't wasted a single second before climbing aboard ship before it even reached the ground, praying that Anakin was alright.

You found him in the medical bay, laid down on a bed and your heart missed a beat. You stepped forward to hold his hand and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb.

"Come on, Ani...Wake up. For me. Please."

You then kissed him, unaware of what was going on in Anakin's head—since you weren't force sensitive.

In Anakin's head :

'Play unconscious. Play unconscious. Play unconscious. Don't laugh. Don't freak out. It's not like Y/N is kissing you right now. They're going to be so mad when they discover it was a prank.'

And then, as if the force itself had summoned him, Obi-Wan stepped in and stopped dead in his tracks before eyeing the both of you suspiciously.

"What are you doing ?", he asked before folding his arms over his chest in disapproval. You suddenly took a step back and threw your hands in the air.

"It's...It's not what it looks like !", you tried to defend yourself—but Obi-Wan shook his head before looking straight at Anakin.

"Not you. You. Get up, Anakin.", he told him and you frowned in incomprehension, until Anakin started talking that is.

"Can't, master. I'm playing dead."

Your eyes grew wide and you were seriously debating on whether to be overjoyed by the fact that he was alright, or kill him yourself.

"No, you're playing the idiot. Now, get up.", Obi-Wan said knowingly and Anakin rolled his eyes before finally sitting up.

Obi-Wan sighed before walking away.

"You have five minutes."

The moment he was out, you glared at Anakin who addressed you a cheeky wink before asking.

"Sooo...You were worried, huh ?"

You restrained an eye roll before wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Ani...You are the biggest jerk in all the galaxy. And I'm mad at you. And it doesn't make any sense. But, I still love you."

You then kissed him again and he smiled at your words. He knew he was a fool, but it felt so good to be your fool—he would gladly spent an eternity being yours.

"If that's how you kiss all jerks, I'll gladly be the king of jerks."

You shook your head in disbelief before hitting his chest playfully. You then both burst into laughter and he took your hand before you left the ship to go home.

Anakin is passionate and playful. He'd do anything for a smile. And even when you're mad at him, he'd find a way to make you laugh and indulge into giving him what he wants.

He would have his kiss, no matter what.

Han Solo :

You were one of the Rebel fighters and had met Han Solo when he was trapped on wookie territory. The Rebellion had sent you on a rescue mission and boy, were you skillful with a blaster.

He immediately noticed you and since then, had been unable to stay away.

Finally, he confessed his love for you just as he was on a mission to go stop Darth Vader.

"Hey, Y/N...I might not make it. So...Just wanted to let you know that I love you and try not to cry too hard if I..."

He wanted to reassure you, but he knew that the mission would be dangerous and decided to be honest with you. But, he didn't plan on you—grabbing him by the back of the neck to kiss him before he could utter another word. Not that he was complaining. But, he was actually trying to be a gentleman.

"Make sure you do.", you told him and Han blinked twice before chuckling nervously.

"Yeah...I'll do that."

He then went aboard his ship and you smiled before grabbing Chewbacca's hand before he also went inside after him.

"Bring our Han back in one piece, alright ?"

Chewbacca let out a loud roar in agreement before pulling you into a hug and you smiled—hiding your tears into his fur. You knew the mission would be dangerous, you weren't delusional. But, you were certain Han would be back. He had promised you afterall and Chewbacca seemed to believe the same. You stayed there until the Millennium Falcon was out of sight before returning to your duties.

A few days later :

When they returned, you ran into Han's arms and he gratefully accepted the rain of kisses you had in store for him. He had missed you too. He was so glad he could come back to you and blinked his tears away. He didn't think he would make it, but damn...He was mighty glad he did.

Han is into long and deeply heart-felt kisses. He may seem like the flirtatious and quick kisses type of man. But, he likes knowing someone is waiting for him. Once he has accepted you in his heart, he's not leaving your side and would spend hours kissing you if he could.

Poe Dameron :

Poe had been held captive for so long, it was a shock when he suddenly reappeared and you dropped everything to run and wrap your arms around him. He chuckled and held you even closer while he peppered your face with kisses, trying to stop your tears.

"Ssh...I'm here. I'm here."

You had been so afraid he'd be gone for good this time, your legs gave under you, but Poe kept you steady. He cupped the back of your head and kept you close to him while he thanked his luck star he got another moment with you.

Poe is a pretty passionate guy. He is also often on a ship, flying into danger. So, every moment counts. He wouldn't lose any time and kiss you and embrace you every chance he gets—knowing it might be his last.

Kylo Ren :

"You...wish to kiss me ?", Kylo Ren suddenly stated when you were both alone—reading your mind easily.

You sighed. Of course...

"Is that wrong ?", you asked—completely unashamed. It wasn't like you could hide anything from him. You thought he was a good leader in his good days (an awful one on his bad ones) and didn't see the point in trying to hide it. He seemed almost surprised for a second before answering you.

"Not to my knowledge. The human body has very unpredictable needs and I recall that the act of kissing is one of them...However...", he frowned slightly before adding. "I also recall that the act is to show affection to loved ones. So, why would you wish to partake in such an activity with me ?"

You shrugged.

"Because you are the only one who wouldn't be disgusted by the scars."

He tilted his head quizzically at you before you sighed and removed your helmet—showing him your old battle scars.

"Crenian acid. The Crenians can be quite creative with their torture methods. The acid slipped through my armor and disfigured me for life."

Kylo stayed silent while examining your features with attention. You did have red angry scars almost identical to his...but far numerous and even though he knew better than to judge, you wouldn't be considered pretty in any beauty standards he knew of.

But, he smiled.

Good. Because, he didn't like pretty.

He took a step forward and slowly reached for your chin to raise it in order for your eyes to meet. You eyes were a sight to behold though...Dark and magnetic. He could easily read your mind, but even if he did...There was always something he would miss—something he couldn't quite grasp.

"Do you really want this ?", he asked—even though you had thought about it for a long time and you nodded.

That's all the encouragement he needed.

He crashed his lips onto yours and muffled all sounds you could have made. He swallowed them and took pride in taking you by surprise.

Kylo Ren is possessive and quite violent in his kisses. He's not nice or sweet. But, he can be when he wants to...which is almost never. But sometimes, Ben would resurface and kiss you sweetly when he knows that you can't handle the other one. There'd be a constant battle within him and not only about the force—but about you as well.

Armitage Hux :

"What do you want, soldier ?! Why call me to this floor when there are so many officers that could..?!"

"General Hux...I believe I want to kiss you.", you interrupted him and general Hux' eyes grew wide in shock. You had been close at the academy...But, he never thought...

"What ?"

"I want to kiss you.", you repeated and general Hux's jaw went slack in disbelief for a couple of seconds before he shook his head to regain his composure.

"You want to kiss me so badly, you'd really risk losing your life ?", he finally asked and you replied with a daring smirk—even though you were terrified inside.

"And what if I am ?"

He huffed a mocking laugh before shaking his head again.

"Then, you are insane. You are a stormtrooper. You shouldn't desire anything.", he reasoned and turned around to step away.

"Then, tell me, general...How come I desire you ?", you shot back.

He stopped dead in his tracks and gave you a quizzical side glance. You smiled and reached forward for his hand before wrapping it around your wrist and positioning his thumb above your pulse point. You wanted him to feel it...feel what you've always felt around him.

"How come...general ?", you repeated softly—but with more insistance this time around as he seemed genuinely puzzled. He raised his other hand to wrap his fingers around your throat and feel the pulse there too...As if trying to decipher if you were being serious, or just tricking him into believing someone could ever want him...

"A default in your programming. A mere illusion that you are playing yourself to comfort your lonely nights..."

But, he didn't pull away. Seems like someone did have lonely nights as well...You leaned forward and he didn't stop you. When you lips touched, he let out a small gasp before holding you tightly against him. There was no logical explanation, no possible reasoning, none whatsoever as to why Hux suddenly felt the need to hold you...But, he did.

And, when you were the one who pulled back, you could see the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. But, he quickly got back his composure and stood up straight—a single strand of his red hair out of place the only proof of what you had just done.

"D...Dismissed."

He had trouble uttering the command and you smiled before finally agreeing. You wouldn't tell him how your heart was thrashing in your chest, threatening to jump out of your ribcage. He probably already knew from the moment you kissed, hence the small gasp of surprise.

What you didn't know was how general Hux himself became red in the face the moment you were out and tried to cover it—stabilizing himself by supporting himself on the back of a chair. One more minute and he would have melted right in front of you.

General Hux hides his emotions from sight, it doesn't mean he doesn't have any. He'd give you quick and sweet kisses when no one is looking and give you smiles only you could witness.

Obi-Wan Kenobi :

To be honest, you weren't prepared for the first time you kissed Obi-Wan. He had pulled you from the crowd because he needed a native to escape the many stormtroopers and you had agreed to pretend being his wife/husband for a while—not to raise suspicion. You were an ally to the jedi cause and had tried to help him the best you could.

However, a stormtrooper had eventually cornered you in a dark alley and with no exit. He had asked you for your papers, but Obi-Wan didn't have any. Thankfully, your papers could suffice if you were considered family,but the stormtrooper was suspicious and refused to just drop it. You saw Obi-Wan touch the handle of his lightsaber. But, instead of alerting the others of your presence by killing the stormtrooper—you had another idea and suddenly pulled Obi-Wan by the collar to clash your lips against his.

The stormtrooper wanted to speak, but Obi-Wan raised a finger—as if asking him to wait for a minute while he kissed you back. The stormtrooper coughed and looked away. He really hadn't expected it and you smirked. At least now, he had proof you were together and you wiped your lips with a cheeky wink at the soldier before walking past him.

"That's my wife/husband.", Obi-Wan uttered with a dreamy smile—a slight note of disbelief in his tone before the stormtrooper let out a small snort at his words.

"....Lucky you."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement before attempting to comb his hair back with his fingers. He then walked past the stormtrooper as well and that was how you succeeded in escaping inspection...and you became Obi-Wan's partner.

It is against the Jedi code to form such romantic attachments, but Obi-Wan was ready to bend the rules for you. You made him want to brave the Jedi council and anyone who would dare say that your love wasn't right.

His kisses would be the symbol of that, genuine, true and open. You wouldn't try to hide your love, no matter what...Because it is pure and beautiful.

Darth Vader :

It was at a time when you thought you could bring back your old Anakin. You had followed Darth Vader in an attempt to make him see reason, but the day he decided to kill the children...that was the day you decided enough was enough.

You stood in his way and gave him an ultimatum.

If he was to hurt them, he would have to step over your cold dead body. You loved him and you knew better than to side with the jedi, but you wouldn't let him kill the kids. It didn't feel right. But, you didn't expect it when he lit his lightsaber and the terrible red hue made the children scream in terror behind you. You stayed put while Darth Vader wondered what he should do with you. Anakin used to be so fond of you, but there was no place for such affection in his heart no longer.

But, you still wanted to try.

You took a step forward and pleaded with tears in your eyes.

"Please, Ani...Don't do this. I love you."

The words he had dreamt of hearing so many times before—mere buzzing in the background of this uncontrollable anger he felt growing inside of him now. You knew words wouldn't be enough, so you raised your hands to gently cup his cheeks and place a tender kiss on his lips. You thought it would be enough, that he would feel your love in this kiss...And, maybe he did.

But, it was far from enough.

"...How dare you ?"

His words cut your breath short as he pushed you away with the force and you landed on the floor, your whole body shaking in pain as he screamed.

"HOW DARE YOU SAY THOSE WORDS NOW ?! YOU LET THEM CAST ME ASIDE ! I WAITED SO LONG FOR YOU TO CONFESS THE SAME LOVE I FELT FOR YOU, AND YOU DO IT NOW ?! AND FOR WHO ?! FOR WHAT ?! NOT FOR ME ! TO SAVE THOSE PITIFUL JEDI !"

He raised his hand towards the children huddled together in a corner and you forced yourself to stand up again and stand in front of them.

"They are only children, Ani...Please..."

He saw the desperation in your gaze, but shook his head.

"It's too late, Y/N. You are too late.", he told you and your eyes widened at the clear accusation in his words. He was holding you as responsible for what he had become than the rest. And when his lightsaber raised in the air, you uttered a loud scream of frustration before drawing out your own lightsaber—your two weapons clashed against each other and showed you each other's faces.

You were scared of what you saw in his eyes, and so did he. His eyes softened for just a second at your tear-strained face and the hatred there. You hated that you loved him, you hated that it was too late and most of all, you hated your own powerlessness as you could only watch the love of your life fall into a pit of darkness without you...You wished your heart couldn't see right from wrong, but it did. And this...this was wrong.

"A—!" You tried to talk again, but he turned his head away. Anakin was dead. You should know that. So, why ? Why do you keep holding on to a memory ? But he took a step back and only glared at the children behind you before sighing in defeat.

"Go. Take the children with you. Before I do something I regret."

His voice was cold and commanding. You held back your tears before walking away. You couldn't stay, not if you wanted the children to survive.

"I'll come back for you.", you whispered.

Another empty promise that you both knew there was no way you could hold. But, he still gave you a weak smile and nodded knowingly before the door closed behind you.

"No. You won't..."

[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.

[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 :)

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 || general armitage hux x reader series

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || you didn't care for the arrogant General from the moment he set foot on your planet, but the only way to protect it was to agree to a political marriage. the last thing you ever imagined was becoming a military leader's wife, but that may prove to be only the first of many surprises that come with being married to Armitage Hux.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || eventual smut (18+), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, angst, age gap, religious themes, totally canon divergent

"I was born on Arkanis, if you must know."

"Did your friends back on Arkanis call you Armie?  Or Huxie?  Ooh, wait!  They called you Mitch, right?" you grinned.

He had that tense frown on again, that one that really brought out the weasel-like quality of his features. 

"Oh," you sighed a bit, "you didn't have friends, did you?"

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞...

[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!

[goosewriting]

Make me a caf

summary: Hux seemingly wants to keep you around after you fix his caf machine.

relationship: Armitage Hux x GN reader

warnings: (18+) making out, sexual tension

word count: 7.4k (this one got away from me... i blacked out and woke up to this. i have no other explanation lol)

A/N: 100% self indulgent. partially inspired by @wordborne’s fic Strictly Business, which is a story for inquisitor!Cal. i wonder what it is about redheads in black outfits that’s so appealing to me  lmao

prompt used: they are absolutely losing it, they pin you against the wall, hands on either side of your face, eyes looking down, they say through gritted teeth, "This isn't easy for me. I-I've never--You matter to me. And, You deserve way better than someone like me--" They're cut off when you pull their collar closer, shaking your head, somehow not fazed by his gaze that's ripping you bare. "I deserve you--everything of you, I want it." (source, by @urfriendlywriter)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Life sure takes interesting turns sometimes. You started out as a mechanic on your home planet, then got drafted by the First Order to work on many projects, the latest being a new base on the planet Ilum, which was a very exclusive and secret project. So not only did you have to relocate for a long time while the base got built, but also in the little leave you got, you weren’t really allowed to talk to anyone.

But you decided a long time ago that’s an okay price to pay for an honestly more than decent pay. You also don’t have to pay for housing or food, you get your own quarters, all your equipment, and even a droid. So, not too shabby.

It’s been a while since you moved to Ilum now, and it’s a morning like any other. You’re the first to arrive at the workshop and your droid beeps at you, telling you that there’s a special request coming in asking for a mechanic. You ask your companion from where it comes and it projects a schematic of the base, with the room in question blinking.

You swallow hard as you realise that’s the part of the base where the captains and generals are housed. But the message was marked as urgent, and you’re the only one here right now, so you take your tools and nod to your droid to follow you.

It takes a while to navigate the labyrinth of hallways; it was pretty rare for the lower deck people to come to these parts. You have to look at your droid’s map a couple of times, but finally you make it to the right wing. Even the design of the walls is different here than it is in the other floors, it’s more sophisticated somehow.

You arrive at the room number indicated on the message and read the name on the plaque next to the door: it’s General Hux’s room. Great.

Luckily you didn’t have to deal with him personally, ever really, but you did hear the rumours, and they weren’t all too… nice. Sure, talks about Kylo Ren and his anger issues sounded worse in a way, but at least he lashed out from time to time. Hux donned you as the kind of person to be so emotionally constipated that he probably didn’t remember how to express anything else on his face except for contempt. In fact you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen the man smile.

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door, and you’re startled as it opens almost immediately. In front of you towers none other than the General himself, sans his coat, eyeing you and your droid up and down.

“You’re late,” is all he says as he turns on his heel, and you follow him silently, deciding there’s no point in arguing to him about how he summoned you to basically the other side of the base out of the blue. 

You try not to stare too much, but you can’t help taking in his room: it’s spacious, clean and tidy. There’s a main room with a couch, a chair and a caf table, and a small kitchen to the side with a breakfast nook attached to it. An open door leads to a space you can’t see, but you assume it’s a hallway to the bedroom and refresher. For a whole organisation that seems to love their sleek designs in black and red, his quarters sure are light, which in turn makes them seem bigger. The wall in the far back of the living room has a huge window reaching almost from floor to ceiling, letting in plenty of natural light, reflected on the planet’s snowy landscape.

When Hux clears his throat, you rip your eyes off the place and bring them back to him, where he stands in the kitchen with his arms crossed.

“The caf machine is broken,” is all he says, then moves past you in a way that only entitled people do, where they expect the other to move out of their way, and takes a seat on the couch, reading through his datapad.

“Right,” you say through gritted teeth, thinking back to all your diplomas and licences to repair heavy machinery, artillery, spaceships, yet here you are, fixing a caf machine. 

With a sigh you approach the device and get to work. You find the problem quickly, and luckily it’s an easy fix. You stretch out your arm to your droid, asking for a tool which is handed to you with a happy beep, and finish the repair within minutes. 

“All done, Sir,” you call to Hux.

“Test it to make sure,” he orders without looking up.

“...Sir?”

He sighs.

“Make me a caf,” he clarifies. His tone isn’t particularly condescending or mocking though, it’s just flat. 

“Uhm, yes, Sir,” you respond, turn to the machine and all its buttons, then back to him. “How would you like your caf, Sir?”

“Surprise me,” he answers and goes back to scrolling through his datapad. 

You blink a couple of times, turning back to the device. This is one of those higher end machines, you’ve never really operated one. And you don’t even know where he keeps his stuff.

As if he could read your mind at your lack of movement, he says, “Caf is in the pantry, mugs are in the cupboard above.”

You open said cupboard, finding a collection of plain, black mugs, as well as an electric grinder. In the pantry you see not just an overwhelming amount of different caf beans types, but also a whole barista set, with the little press and the whisky thing. You have never used any of these; all you know is that these sets are rather expensive. And this man apparently knows his caf, so why would he ask a random mechanic to prepare it for him?

Wondering how it is you come into ridiculous situations like this alarmingly often, you get to work, grinding the beans (you didn't know a grinder could be this silent), placing everything in the machine and starting it up. In the pantry you also find some other spices and creamer, but you reckon Hux is the kind of man to take his caf black, so you don’t put in any of the latter. Instead you add a little bit of… you don’t even know what kind of spice it is, as the little jar is unlabeled, but it smells good. 

“All done, Sir,” you say as you walk up to him with the steaming mug.

He gestures to the caf table in front of him with his chin, and you’re about to place the mug down, but then see a little basket with coasters donning the First Order symbol. You pick one up and slide it under the mug.

“You can see yourself out,” is all Hux says, without looking at the mug or you.

You hesitate for a moment, not expecting to just be sent off like that. Wasn’t he even gonna try it? Wait… Why were you even waiting for a response? It’s not like you cared.

“Yes, Sir,” you bow lightly and turn on your heels, calling your droid and leaving.

On the whole walk back to your workshop, you wonder what the kriff just happened, and hope that you won’t have to deal with the General for a long time. He’s so weird.

The universe seems to be against you though, because it is only the next day when you arrive at the workshop, but this time you’re not alone. You’re the first mechanic, as for the next couple of rotations you have the early shift, but there’s a Stormtrooper waiting; that can’t mean anything good. 

“Good morning, Trooper,” you greet them with a smile as you approach them. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Grab your tools and follow me,” the modulated voice orders. You pack your little bag while the Trooper just stares, then tell your droid to come, but they lift a hand.

“Leave the droid.”

You couldn’t be more confused, but you comply, telling your droid to stay. It beeps sadly and slowly rolls back around your table, where it will probably stay and wait for you to come back. You feel a little bad, but there’s nothing you can do.

The Trooper doesn’t say anything else as you follow them through the pristine halls, your steps echoing off the walls. Every now and then you have to jog a little to catch up with their hasty pace. Soon enough the route seems oddly familiar and you feel like you’re having a déjà-vu. 

“Where are we going again?” you ask, even though you haven’t been told yet where the Trooper is taking you.

“General Hux called for you,” they explain.

Okay, now you are confused. You fixed his caf machine, even made him a fresh cup of it. What could he possibly still want? 

The rest of the way to the General’s room is silent again, and once you arrive at the door, the Trooper knocks twice, then stands guard next to it. Again, the door opens comically quickly, as if Hux had been behind it waiting the whole time. The thought makes you smile to yourself, and you try to suppress it the best you can.

“Ah, good, you found the mechanic,” Hux says, nodding to the Trooper, who nods back and leaves the way you came from. 

“What can I do for you today, Sir?” you ask as you find yourself walking into his quarters again. 

This time he has you following him through the hallway to the refresher, where he points at a flickering light.

“Fix it,” he orders and leaves.

Is this some sort of twisted game where he would have you do menial tasks every day? Is the First Order targeting you? Just what in the world is going on, you think, dropping your bag of tools onto the floor with more force than necessary. I have more urgent work to do.

Heaving a silent sigh, you inspect the light. Just as you thought, all it needed was to be screwed in tighter into its socket, and the flickering stopped. 

Picking up your bag from the floor, you walk into the hallway. The door to his room is open and you steal a tiny peek inside. His bed is huge! Sure must be comfy…

“All done, Sir,” you report as you come to stand beside him. 

“Excellent. Now,” he says as he leaves his datapad on the couch and stands up, taking a step towards you, towering over you. Instinctively you take a step back, and the tiniest of smiles appears on his freckled face. Huh, you hadn’t noticed before that he has freckles. 

“Make me a caf,” he orders.

“Sir,” you start, averting your gaze from his piercing one. “With all due respect, you have a functioning caf machine right there. I don’t see why my presence is needed.” 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

“How did you prepare the caf yesterday?” he asks.

Oh Maker, he probably hated it, you think as you tighten your grip on the strap of your bag.

“Uhm, I…” you hate yourself for stumbling over your words. You bet he’s getting a kick out of this. “Was it not to your liking Sir? If so, I apologise–”

“That was the best damn caf I’ve had in a long time,” he interrupts you, and you can only look up at him in surprise. “How did you prepare it?”

“I made a… I think it’s called a blend?” you try your darndest to remember just what you did yesterday when you experimented with the ingredients in the pantry. “I used beans from two different packs. They seemed like they would go well together… Sir.”

Why did you even do that? You have no idea. You’re also pretty sure you added one of the spices. 

“Interesting,” Hux remarks, leaning back to stand at his full height. You didn’t even notice he was leaning in so close to you. 

You kinda just stand in place, waiting for further instructions, while his eyes seem to burn through your very soul, his face unreadable. 

“Then, surprise me again, mechanic,” he orders, and walks back to the couch. 

You gulp for what you’re about to say, but you don’t like how he calls you ‘mechanic’ like it’s a derogatory term. 

“Actually, Sir, it’s…” you say and pause, waiting for him to turn to you, and then you tell him your name.

He repeats it, as if testing out how it sounds, and you reprimand yourself internally for the beat your heart just skipped when you heard him say it. 

Hux turns his attention back to the datapad, and you quickly make your way into the kitchen, leaving your bag on one of the stools. 

Once more you find yourself in front of the pantry, and you get to work. You sniff the different caf packets, trying to understand anything from the colourfully worded descriptions on the back. With a shrug, you just follow your nose like you did last time, and grind up two different kinds of beans, this time without any spices, and let the machine do the rest. 

Once it’s ready, you bring it to the caf table, where a coaster is already waiting this time. You place down the mug and bring your hands behind your back, waiting to be dismissed.

But instead, Hux takes the mug into his hand, blowing softly on it, and takes a sip. All without breaking eye contact with you. He waits a couple of seconds and hums. You hope that’s a good thing. 

“Interesting choice,” he remarks, looking into the dark liquid reflecting the room’s lights in ripples. “You’re dismissed.”

“Sir,” you excuse yourself with the same bow as yesterday, grab your bag, and leave his quarters. 

You take a quick look at the time on your datapad and curse under your breath as you’re gonna be late for the second rotation in a row, and speed up your pace.

This whole spiel goes on for almost two weeks: Hux sends someone to retrieve you from the workshop early in the morning, has you do some menial task as an excuse for calling you, then orders you to make him caf. The feedback you get for your results is sparse at best, usually only one or two words. But you did notice that he has a preference for one type of blend mixed with a certain spice. You even went as far as looking up more things to spice caf up with on the holonet, trying to apply it to the ingredients in his pantry.

The more time you spend in his room, the more he opens up little by little as well. At first you’d work in silence. Then he’d sit on the stools by the kitchen instead of the couch, doing some work. Then he’d put down the datapad to watch you work, and it even came as far as doing smalltalk. Once he even asked you for your input regarding a technical matter in his work, where you caught a glimpse of some schematics of something huge. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you curious to know what he was working on. 

As ridiculous as this whole situation was, not only did you find yourself looking forward to seeing a Trooper every morning, but you made it your goal to make a caf that would blow Hux’s socks right off.

It’s shortly after the two week mark of this whole thing that you’re on your way to the workshop, expecting to see a Trooper to pick you up, but the place is actually empty, save for your co-worker who’s on the early shift. You greet your droid, who beeps happily at your arrival, and you look around.

“Did anyone come by, buddy?” you ask, and get a negative beep-boop. 

When you ask the other mechanic, she also says it’s been just her until now.

Huh, weird. No, wait, hold on a minute – why are you even expecting to get summoned in the first place? You can finally catch up on all the work you’re behind on because of the little “caf-scapades”, as you’ve been calling them. 

“Alright, let’s get to work,” you tell your droid and pat it a couple of times. “There’s a lot to do.”

The nagging feeling that something is wrong doesn’t leave you though, in fact, the more time passes, the stronger it seems to get. By the end of your shift, you wonder if you should pay the General a visit out of your own volition. But you decide against it, after all he could be on a mission somewhere, or maybe he was busy today. Either way, it’s none of your business. 

You wrap up for the day and finish cleaning your workstation, get your dinner, and not long after, find yourself getting ready for bed. After a quick shower, you change into a tank top and shorts, your go-to sleepwear. You’re glad that despite the harsh outside conditions, the living quarters are well heated.

Just as you’re lifting the blanket to get into your bed, you hear your datapad beep twice: a message. You wonder who it could be this late at night.

With a sigh, you make your way to the table and pick up the device, squinting at the light in your already dark room. You almost drop it to the floor when you see the message: “Come now. Alone.” It’s from an unknown sender, but marked as urgent: it’s gotta be from Hux. You glance at the time and roll your eyes. Of course he would have you on a regular trip to his room every morning for half a month, then suddenly stop, only to call you to his room in the middle of the night. Just what is this guy’s deal?!

You look down at yourself and sigh. This isn’t how you want the General to see you, at least not right now. Not yet. Perhaps. 

You don’t really own any civilian clothes, as you’re always in the base. The only non overall kind of clothing you have is a First Order uniform, but that one is only ever really used for official events or gatherings. Plus it’s rather stiff. 

All your coveralls are currently either covered in grease and/or smell of engine oil. Besides, you don’t wanna wear those over your PJs. So you grab the next best option, which is the summer version of the coveralls you almost never use because they have short sleeves, and it’s mandatory to wear long sleeves and gloves in most of the hangars and workshops. They’re clean at least, so you quickly jump into them, not even bothering to zip it up all the way, slip into your boots and head out. 

Walking down the hallways to the military wing of the base at this time of night is strange; for some reason there’s more Troopers and people out and about than in the early mornings. They give you a strange side-eye when walking past you, but no one seems to question your presence at least.

When you finally make it to Hux’s room, you lift your hand to knock, but hesitate.

Why would he call you out here at this hour anyways? On one side you expect him to tell you that he’s grown tired and bored of you. On the other side you know he wouldn’t do that, not like this at least. 

All day, ever since not being picked up by a Trooper, you’ve been plagued by this little voice in your head. A nagging feeling that was disguised as a strange curiosity to know where the caf-scapades would bring you two in terms of getting to know each other, yet you knew that beneath it was genuine worry for the General. He doesn’t contact you all day, then suddenly messages you (which means he went out of his way to get your contact information, since you hadn’t given it to him), and here you are, running to him the second he calls you. 

You grimace at the thought, or rather the realisation, that you actually came to… like the General. 

He has a weird sense of humour, and isn’t good at expressing how he feels. But if you look closely enough, you can recognise the subtle changes in his face that give away his thoughts. You can’t deny that he is very handsome, but you’re also aware that he can be a dangerous man. You’ve heard enough stories of what he and Ren have done and are capable of. And yet… There's something about his presence, like he’s surrounded by this air full of purpose and confidence, that you can’t help being pulled towards him. 

So yeah, you’re intrigued by him. And you want to see more. 

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door in the pattern you usually do.

But the door stays closed. 

Suddenly it dawns on you that you didn’t actually know for sure who sent the message. What if it wasn’t Hux, and something happened to him? What if he was hurt and this was all a trap?

You hold your breath, tilting your ear towards the door, trying to hear if there’s anyone at all in there, when you suddenly hear a groan from the other side.

You’re about to call out to Hux but stop yourself. You’re sure it was a groan right, and not a… moan? You feel heat rising to your cheeks at the thought. 

Shaking away the images threatening to flood your brain, you knock again. You really hope you’re not interrupting anything.

This time the groan is louder, clearly pained, and it’s calling your name. 

“Sir?” you ask, now definitely worried for his well-being, all other theories thrown out the window. 

Suddenly, the door whooshes open, but there’s no one in front of it. Instead, you see the remote aimed at the entrance (so that’s how he opened the door so quickly), held by a Hux who’s half hanging from the couch onto the floor.

“General!” you call, close the door behind you and rush to his side.

Hux is only wearing his trousers; his shirt, jacket and belt are strewn on the floor. He probably was trying to get dressed or change, but collapsed. You grab his arms to pull him up, and you get to sit him down properly on the couch. His face is flushed all the way down to his neck, clearly running a fever. Your hand shoots up to touch his forehead and he’s burning. He weakly swats your hand away and winces in pain, his eyes shut tightly, and you feel your own gaze travelling down his jaw to his collarbones, to all the freckles covering his shoulders and pecs.

Forcing yourself to tear away your eyes, you shake his shoulder lightly. 

“Sir, you need to go to bed and rest,” you tell him.

“I- I was… trying,” he huffs between heavy breaths, his eyes meeting your own in what you guess was meant to be a glare, but they lack their usual intensity. 

“Lean onto me,” you instruct, pulling him up by an arm and throwing it over your shoulder. You feel how he’s fighting to slump all of his weight on you, and get moving. 

It takes a while and Hux almost falls to the floor twice, but you make it to his room, where he lets himself fall onto the bed. You rush to the refresher, where you remember seeing a first aid kit, and bring it back to the room. You help him take off his boots and lift the blanket for him to climb into the bed, tucking him in once he’s settled. Then you sit down on the edge of the bed and start unpacking the kit. A cold patch goes to his forehead and you take his temperature, which is way too high.

“I’m gonna give you a stim, okay?” you warn him as you take it out of the kit, pulling the blanket down a little so you can apply it. You stick it below his collarbone in a quick motion, and he hisses.

“There, there,” you coo and can’t help but smile. He grunts as he places his forearm over his face, and you pull the blanket back up properly.

After packing everything into the kit and putting it to the side, you go to the kitchen to get a cup of water. Back in the room, you hand Hux some pills and the cup, and he downs it all without even asking what it is and with no snarky remark, which makes you feel even worse for him; the fever must be really bad.

You’re still sitting at his side, taking in his state and wondering what else you can do, when a question pops into your head.

“Why did you call me, General?” you ask him, and he peeks at you from under his arm. “Shouldn’t you have gotten a nurse or a medical droid?”

“Didn’t get my caf today,” he rasps. 

“Oh, so it’s my fault you came down with a fever?” you retort playfully. He nods, and you can’t help but laugh a little. 

“So now I gotta make up for my mistake?” you add, and he nods again. You exhale through your nose with a smile. “Well, General, I did all I can do for you. I’m gonna go get a medical droid–”

But before you can stand up, his hand shoots up to grab your wrist, yanking you back down. 

“Armitage,” he whispers, blinking a couple of times, trying to focus his eyes on you.

“Sir–” is all you get out, trying to loosen his grip on your wrist.

“Call me Armitage,” he repeats, louder this time, eyes suddenly full of an intensity you didn’t know he had left in his state.

“Sir, I can’t– You’re–” you whimper in pain as his grip tightens around you even more. “You’re hurting me, Armitage.”

Hux looks up at you a moment longer, then down at his hand, and suddenly lets go, as if he only now realised what he was doing.

“I– I didn’t mean to…��� he mumbles as his hand hesitantly reaches up to your wrist again, but much gentler this time. His fingers ghost over the irritated skin, taking your hand in his larger one, and bringing it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

“Stay the night,” he orders, and you feel like your heart, brain, lungs – everything just stops working altogether. 

“Gener–” you start but his brows furrow in a warning glare, so you correct yourself. “Armitage, I really shouldn’t. I can’t.”

Not when you’re like this, at least, you add in your mind.

“I won’t do anything, I promise,” he assures you, his face softening, but eyes still as intense. “Just stay by my side.”

Your eyes fall to your hand still in his, and you feel him give you a squeeze. After a moment, you return it. You’re aware that this can end in one of two ways: it’s either the start of something very interesting, or the end of your career as you know it. Are you really about to risk it all for some fun? 

“Okay,” you finally give in, and he sighs in relief.

Hux pats the space next to him in his enormous bed, and you walk over to the other side of it, lying down on top of the blanket. He holds your hand again and closes his eyes, starting to drift off. 

– – – – –

The next morning, Hux wakes up to a dull pang of pain behind his eyes. He squints as he takes in his surroundings. When did he get to bed? Did he forget to close the blinds last night? Sitting up in the bed, he sees the patch from his forehead fall into his lap. Did he get that himself from the refresher? Why can’t he remember anything from last night? 

He throws his legs over the edge of the bed, seeing that he’s still wearing his uniform’s trousers. On the nightstand is a glass of water and some pills which he assumes to be aspirin. He downs it, drinking the whole thing. Why is he so thirsty? 

His eyes travel over the bed when he realises that not only is the other side ruffled, as if someone had slept there, but there’s some mechanic’s overalls neatly folded at the end of the bed too. He freezes, racking his brain for any events of the night prior, but it’s all a blur.

Suddenly he hears some clinking sounds from the kitchen. Sniffing the air he also smells food. Just as he’s about to get up to investigate, you come walking through the door, and his heart skips several beats. You’re only wearing a tank top and shorts, showing much more skin than he’d ever seen from you, and he immediately decides that he likes what he sees. 

“Oh, you’re up,” you say, coming to a halt just as you pass the door, suddenly very self-conscious of how his eyes are essentially eating you up. “I made breakfast, and caf. Are you feeling any better?”

He doesn’t answer, instead looking down at the floor. You being here, dressed like this, does that mean that last night you two…? And if so, why couldn’t he remember any of it?! 

Given his lack of response, you walk around the bed and stand in front of Hux, looking at him with worry.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask, your hand coming up to his forehead. You sigh in relief when you notice his fever is almost gone, but you don’t miss how he tenses up at your touch. So if he’s back to normal again… “A-Armitage?”

Hux straightens up suddenly at the use of his name, and looks at you with a ferocity you hadn’t seen before. You instinctively take a step back, and immediately regret it when you see the hurt cross his face for a split second. Hux’s eyes fall and go to your hand which had just been on his forehead moments ago. A scowl spreads on his face as he carefully takes your wrist and brings it up to his face to inspect the bruising that spreads from the back of your hand to almost the middle of your forearm.

“Who did this to you?” he asks through gritted teeth, clearly upset. 

“You did,” you answer, and he looks up at you in disbelief. “You don’t… remember anything from last night?”

“I don’t,” he groans, and when he looks back up at you, his ears burn in the cutest shade of pink. “Since I don’t remember, I have to ask… Did we… last night?”

Your cheeks get set ablaze as you shake your head, biting your lip. When he sighs in relief, you feel your heart sink momentarily, but it resumes its erratic beating with his next words. 

“I’d hate myself if something happened and I didn’t remember it the next day,” he’s quick to clarify, still not letting go of your hand. “And about this… I’m sorry.”

You don’t think that apologies are something that comes easy to Hux, so you know you should just take it as such and shut up, but you can’t help your blabbering, trying to make him feel better for some reason.

“Don’t worry about it, I bruise easily,” you say with a sheepish smile. “Besides, I’ve had worse. I’ll survive.”

“Worse?” Hux asks, concerned for you and at the same time enraged at the thought of someone else hurting you. 

“Yeah, look at this,” you reply, removing your hand from his to lift your shirt up a little, while the other pulls down the hem of your shorts ever so slightly, to show him a scar that goes from above your hip bone up and around your ribcage. “This one I got from when an engine fell on me.” 

So you meant work accidents and not someone else laying a hand on you. Hux feels the earlier rage dissipate as he takes in your scar, and the way you so easily bared yourself to him. 

Being pulled towards him by your hips, you watch in complete shock when Hux places the softest of kisses on your scar, then traces it with his fingers. He’s so close, you wonder if he can hear your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“Shall we get breakfast then?” he asks, suddenly very matter-of-factly, and stands up. “Wouldn’t want the caf to get cold after all.”

Hux walks past you to the wardrobe, getting out of your sight as he stands behind the open door. You take a moment to control your breathing and imagination, then walk towards the kitchen. 

When he joins you on the stools, you notice he changed into more comfortable clothes, and you pass him his mug and a plate of eggs and bacon.

“I can also make some porridge if you think you’d stomach that better?” you offer.

“This is perfect,” he retorts, and starts eating. 

You prop your hand on your elbow for a second, just taking in this moment which seems… strangely domestic. And peaceful. It feels like something you could get used to.

Snapping back to reality, you check the time on the microwave, and scramble to your feet.

“Ah, kriff! I’m so late!” you start running back and forth, gathering your things. You quickly slip into your overalls and jump into your boots without even tying them up. You appear once more next to Hux, who’s still calmly enjoying his breakfast.

“You better take the day off. I don’t want to see you around, you hear me?” you tell him, pointing at him with a scolding finger. “Drink plenty of water and stay in bed, okay? Message me if anything comes up.” 

Before you realise what you’re doing, you place a quick kiss to his cheek, say your goodbyes and dash out the door, leaving a very perplexed Hux in the kitchen.

It’s only as you’re rushing down the halls that you realise not only what you’ve done but also how this must look to the passers-by: someone getting out of a high ranking officer’s room with rather dishevelled hair, not having even put on your clothes properly. You swallow your pride though, ignoring all the looks you get, and run as fast as you can to your room to get changed. 

When you finally make it to the workshop, it’s no surprise to see your supervisor there, and he’s fuming. You try to sneak by to your workstation somehow, but he sees you and calls you over to his office, where he gives you an earful about impunctuality and responsibility and yadda yadda yadda. Then he goes on about how highly irregular this behaviour is from you since you’ve always been a diligent worker, and you better think twice before not appearing for work next time. 

You bite your tongue and let it all pass over you. As long as you finish your work within the deadline, there’s no real risk here. 

When your boss finally lets you go, you rush to your droid and get to work immediately. The next couple of rotations you’re immersed in your job, taking shift after shift to catch up on everything you still have to get done. In all this time, there’s no messages from Hux, and you’re glad, because you would probably say things to him that you’d regret later if you saw him right now. Getting so behind schedule in the first place is kind of his fault. Sure, you never told him that you were losing precious hours of work, but you didn’t think it’d get this far. That you would come to enjoy his company and hope he enjoyed yours, to the point where he had asked you to spend the night. 

So, right now, you don’t want to see him, not until after the deadline. But the universe has other plans for you yet again, as it is the day before it that you see Hux again. 

You had told him he should message you. He could have gone and sent a Trooper for you like last time. But no, what does this guy do? Comes to get you personally.

If it wasn’t for your droid, you wouldn’t even have seen him coming because you’re currently head-first inside a cockpit, trying to reach some cables. But its beeps alert you, and you spring up so hastily that you hit your head on the dashboard.

With a hiss and rubbing over the spot you just hit, you get out of the ship, where Hux and two of his Troopers are waiting. 

“General Hux,” you greet with a polite smile, “What can I do for you?”

“Come with me,” he orders, and for a moment you look at him in disbelief. 

Just what is he getting at now? No greeting, no nothing? Just ordering you around again, in front of your crew? Making you lose even more hours of work? Oh, two can play that game.

“No,” you retort after a scoff.

He comes to a halt and turns around slowly, his eyes narrowed at you in a warning glare. 

“I beg your pardon?” he asks, his whole body language telling you to measure your next words very carefully, but instead, you slightly lift your chin in a defiant gesture. 

“Then beg.” 

Hux curls his fists at his side, and the Troopers lift their blasters to aim at you, but he lifts one hand, and they lower their weapons, but not without giving each other a look behind the General. 

At this point the whole workshop is so silent, you’re sure you’d be able to hear a needle drop onto the metallic floor. Even the TIE fighters in the hangars around you seem to roar more silently. 

“I am the General in charge of this base and you will listen to me!” he suddenly yells, and you avert your eyes. You can’t believe he just pulled rank on you. 

Letting the tool you were holding fall into the toolbox with a clank, you walk up to him, still not looking him in the eyes.

He slightly shakes his head at you, then turns on his heels and heads for the hallway, with you in tow and the Troopers at the end. 

Hux takes a different route than expected; instead of taking you to his quarters, which are pretty far away, he heads to the office wing, finding an empty conference room and getting in. He slams the button on the panel for the blinds, and the inner windows dividing the room and the hallway go dark. 

“No interruptions,” he instructs the Troopers through gritted teeth, then closes the door. 

You find yourself in the rather dark room now, alone, with a seemingly very angry General. He suddenly turns around and takes quick steps towards you, pushing you back against the conference table and trapping you between his arms.

“Don’t you dare defy me like that again in front of the others,” he threatens you. 

“Defy you?” you say with a wry smile, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “You don’t get to order me around like your Stormtroopers. You can ask nicely, you know? Or just, I don’t know, like a normal person?” 

He groans, slamming his fist onto the table, which startles you. You don’t like this attitude at all, so you push him back and take a step to the side.

“General– No, Armitage,” you try softening him up by using his name, and it seems to be working. “What even are we?”

He starts walking towards you again, slowly backing you up against the wall this time. 

“If this is just a game to you, then–” you start, your hands on his chest in an attempt to push him off, but you don’t actually put any strength into it because you know what you actually want. So you let yourself be pushed further, your heart pounding with every step backwards you take. “Then let’s just stop right here. But if you’re serious about this, you need to tell me, please…”

By now, Hux is absolutely losing it, and he finally pins you against the wall, hands on either side of your face, eyes looking down into yours.

"This isn't easy for me,” he says through gritted teeth. “I– I've never– You matter to me. And, maybe you deserve better than someone like me–"

He’s cut off when you pull him closer by the collar, shaking your head, somehow not fazed by his gaze that's ripping you bare.

"I deserve you– everything of you, I want it,” you breathe. 

With that, Hux’s last thread of self-control snaps, and he presses his body against yours, smashing his lips on yours. The kiss is heated, sloppy and messy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Finally you’re able to show just how much you’ve been longing for each other. 

The General slips his hands under your thighs, pulling you up against the wall. You gasp in surprise and he uses that to press his tongue against yours. You hook your ankles behind him, both your hands roaming each other in desperation. 

When you finally break for air, you’re panting, but Hux attacks your neck next, and he’s relentless. He spends what feels like an eternity and yet nowhere near enough kissing, biting, licking every inch of your skin he can reach. You’re sure the grip of his hands on your legs will leave bruises again, but this time you find yourself looking forward to them. 

Once Hux seems satisfied, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his shoulders rising and falling quickly with his ragged breathing. 

“When you showed me that scar,” he whispers against your skin. “I thought I was gonna take you then and there.”

He leans his head back only enough to look at you, and the intensity of his eyes sends a shudder to your very bones.

“I’ll map every inch of your skin, every scar, mole and freckle, and mark it up. I want all of you,” he growls, and you’re not sure if it’s supposed to be a threat or a promise; you’re just glad that he’s holding you in place because your knees have long since given out.

You cup his face, and bring him in for another kiss. This time it’s much slower, gentler, but just as deep. 

“I’d like that,” you breathe into his lips, and he smiles. 

When he finally lets you down, you have to hold onto Hux because of how wobbly your legs are. 

“You good?” he asks, his hands on the underside of your arms to hold you.

“Yeah,” you reassure him, and have to choke back a laugh when you look up at him.

“What?” he questions with an amused little smile. 

“Come here, lemme fix your hair. You’re quite a mess,” you say, and he leans down so you can smooth out his hair as best as you can. 

“Well, you should see yourself,” he chuckles as he returns the favour.

Once you’re both more or less presentable, you walk to the door. Before Hux opens it though, he takes your hand one last time in his and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“See you tonight?” he asks, hopeful.

“Can’t wait,” you say with a wink.

– – – – –

Bonus:

When you make it back to your table in the workshop with a dreamy look on your face, your co-worker brings her hand to her mouth with a gasp.

“What?” you ask her, looking around in surprise, trying to find the source of her horror.

“Really? The General?!” she whisper-shouts, gesturing to you to follow her.

She guides you to the little supply closet at the end of the workshop and rummages in a box for a clean rag.

“What do you mean? Was it so obvious?” you ask, your cheeks still ablaze from before.

“Obvious?” she repeats rhetorically, handing you the rag and a little pocket mirror. “Honey, you can see those hickeys all the way from Coruscant.”

“Wait, what?” you blurt out and look into the mirror. Sure enough, the General made sure you won’t be able to walk around the base without a turtleneck for several rotations. He went absolutely ham.

“Gha!” you shriek, tying the rag around your neck like a scarf. “I’m gonna kill him!”

[starlightsearches]

Hi Star! Huge congratulations on your 2k milestone - it is so well deserved!!

Could I possibly get "Let's Hear it for the Boy" with our beloved ginger general?

Thank you so much and congrats again!!

Drunk / In Love

Track 3: Let's Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams - Give me a character and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons on how they would want you to show them that you love them. 

General Hux x F! Reader / 📼 ✨ mixtape milestone ✨ 📼

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry it took me so long!

The idiots from these two stories are back again. Sorry I'm obsessed with them (I'm not sorry at all). Warnings for some minor sexual content and weird consent issues!

Phasma said you were drunk.

What she failed to mention was how—how drunk you were, or how you ended up that way. It was only supposed to be a friendly dinner when Hux first suggested it (and didn't stop suggesting it until Phasma finally gave in).

He thought if you made connections here—even just one—that it might make you more comfortable being with him on this ship, and so far from anything familiar.

Although this might be too familiar.

He reaches the door to Phasma's quarters and they glide open automatically, programmed to recognize his approach. He sees Phasma seated at the table, out of uniform, a smirk playing on her wine-stained mouth.

Armitage is not prepared for the dark flash in his peripherals, or the arms around his neck.

Your embrace frightens him, and that alone is enough to leave him feeling hot, stomach swimming, even when he recognizes your touch on instinct. It has him weak at the knees, just this, has his heart in his throat as all the alarm and panic well up inside him, threatening to spill out.

Then your lips meet his. 

There's been a handful of almost-affectionate moments shared between you. The brush of your hand as you wished him goodbye one morning. A kiss on the cheek that missed its target, landing at the edge of his lips.

But nothing like this.

Hux can feel your mouth shift against his, lips turning up at the corners, and the little laugh that passes through them—maybe at the way his hands hang limply at his sides, or the crop of perspiration blooming at his collar from the warmth of your skin, the smell of you. He can't make himself kiss you back, although he wants to.

He really, really wants to.

There's no malice in your eyes when you pull away—Armitage doesn't think you're capable of malice. You smile at him sweetly, taking his hands in both of yours.

"I missed you," you tell him, each word bleeding into the next, eyes half-lidded and hazy from whatever you'd been drinking, "did you miss me?"

"I- uh, yes," he answers—unavoidably honest—his eyes flitting towards Phasma, who's so pleased with herself it practically drips from her, hanging heavier on her shoulders than the armour she usually wears.

A hot anger floods through his stomach, spiked with acrid shame. He doesn’t need any witnesses to his inept attempts at marriage.

Your smile widens, every facet of you bursting with delight knowing that he’s missed you in the hours since you last spoke his name, and then he’s back in your embrace, the sound of sweet laughter in his ear. 

He reaches out for something to brace himself on, and finds nothing. It takes everything in him to keep standing. 

Armitage peels your arms from around his neck, putting a desperate inch of distance between himself and the press of your body. 

"Why don't we let the captain get some rest?" he asks.

Your enthusiasm at the suggestion turns his stomach into knots.

He's able to usher you through the empty halls at a speed just short of a jog, one hand at your waist to keep you from stumbling, and the other wrapped firmly around your wrist to stop any further attempts at touching him.

And, though he can’t puzzle it out just yet—with the warmth of you still against him—he knows something is wrong with you. Something that wine alone could not bring on.

Armitage knows you don’t want him. Not like this. 

Yet you practically drag him through the doors of your quarters, mouth planted against his before the mechanical lock whirs into place. 

All the desire in him makes him sick—feverish and weak. His body shudders against yours, nerves trying to break through skin at the gentleness of your touch.

“Armitage,” you whine, pouty in a way he’s never heard before—always so polite and obliging when you’re sober, “kiss me back.”

He couldn’t refuse you, even if he wanted to, even though he knows it would be better for both of you—knows the way this memory will torture him endlessly, until the moment he dies. Maybe long after that. 

But still, he cups your face in shaking hands, and presses his uncertain lips to yours.

And it’s nothing like all the times he’s thought about this—about taking you, feeling the warmth of your breath mingling with his own, pulling you tight against him with his arm at your waist and kissing, kissing, kissing you, until he tires of the feeling, until he rids himself of all his hideous need to be loved and to be wanted. 

It’s nothing like he imagined because he’s terrified. Because he can’t manage to move the ways he wants to, tripping over his feet when you stumble deeper into his chambers. Because his stomach roils at the feel of your tongue against his stubbornly closed mouth, and his arms shake with the need to move, but his hands stay where he placed them, holding hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer with enough force that part of him wonders if he’s hurting you. 

And still, your mouth on his, your wandering, eager hands. 

The room spins; Armitage’s reason leaves him when his feet lift from the floor, your body underneath him, and below that the cushion of his bed molding you together.

Still kissing. Still you. Your hand, guiding his down the thrumming pulse of your neck, lower. Lower.

Armitage is on the other side of the bed before the thought of how wrong what he has done truly registers, his feet planted and one hand pushing back the fallen strands of his hair.

 “Armitage?”

He curses the day you learned his name, curses the ill, vile part of him that wants to go back. 

He clears his throat and finds it doesn’t steady him at all. 

“You- you should get some rest, I think.”

Your movements are clumsy as you crawl to him on your knees, fighting against the thick bedspread and the fabric of your skirt. There’s a little huff on your lips when you reach him, eyes big and wide and brimming with glistening tears. 

“Why don’t you want me?” you whisper, and tears well up to their breaking point, slipping down your cheeks.

Fuck. He wants to touch you, and knows it’s a terrible idea, palms aching beneath the leather he wears and hates—now more than ever when it keeps him from you. His hand reaches out against his will, hovering just out of reach of your skin and the tears he can’t manage to wipe away because, once again, he is the cause of all your suffering. 

 “You’re- you’re drunk, darling. You’ll feel better if you just-”

“No,” you tell him, pushing his hand away with your own, “why don’t you want me ever?”

Oh, gods. Armitage recoils like you’ve slapped him, the sting of those words and what they mean destroying everything—every moment he’s agonized over since he first saw you and knew you had to be his. 

“You . . . you can’t possibly believe that.” 

You nod your head, fists curled at your sides petulantly, and your stubbornness would make him laugh, if it weren’t so sad.

“I do,” he whispers, then swallows, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. It gives him something to look at, watching your elegant fingers intertwine with his. “I do, but I—”

How much of this will you remember? Even now, the idea of revealing this soft, vulnerable part of him strikes fear into his very core, has him wishing he could run, wishing he could escape the way your eyes flay him wide open.

Your hand against his chest, he can feel his own heartbeat meet the shapes of your fingertips, molding to you. Armitage meets your gaze, and as frightening as it is, there’s no part of him that could deny how deeply he craves it.

“Please forgive me,” he stutters, and there aren't words for him to explain everything he needs to, just the truth. “I am—oh, gods—I am a ruinous man.” 

He watches you, the muscles working in your jaw, the way your brows pull together, examining him, weighing the assessment of himself that he’s offered to you. 

“No,” you tell him, “no you’re not.”

He thinks you might kiss him again, as close as you are. Close enough for him to count each of your lashes, map the constellations you’ve hidden in your eyes. 

You drop to the mattress instead, and the look you give him has him holding back a laugh, the mix of stubbornness and grudging deference that has Armitage wondering how hard it’s been for you to play at obedience in your union.

“You should change,” he tells you, just resting on the edge of the bed, “you’ll be more comfortable.”

It’s easier to talk to you when you’re like this. It has Armitage feeling like he’s the one intoxicated, and he is, in a way. Because what if this is your most honest self? 

He didn’t think you could make him love you any deeper, but you’ve managed. 

“Don’t care,” you mumble into the pillows, trying to brush him away with a waving hand. He takes it in his own.

“You’ll ruin your dress.” 

There’s a look of intense focus on your face, and he wonders if you’ll refuse again. Maybe you don’t care about the dress either, although Armitage would be disappointed. It’s one of his favorites from your incredibly extensive wardrobe—a beautiful black and cream confection that always catches his eye.

But you shift instead, turning to look up at him. “Kiss me.”

Stars, not again. Not now, when the weakest parts of him are so palpable. “I- I don’t-”

You flop into a sitting position, hold a single finger up between your faces.

“One kiss,” you concede, “okay?”

He nods, despite himself. You wait patiently for his approach, still and hardly breathing through your parted lips as he slides closer. Armitage keeps his eyes open, and so do you, heavy as they are, watching the distance between your faces fade into nothing.

It’s not like the other times he’s kissed you, although all but one had happened only a few moments ago. You let him set the pace, his lips just barely brushing your own, a sigh bubbling up from deep inside his lungs. He can only offer a little more pressure before he’s lightheaded again, little bursts of light dancing across his vision.

He pulls back from what could hardly be called a kiss, and waits for your disappointment, for your insistence that he try again, that there must be something more, or better, that he’s kept from you. 

Armitage doesn’t want you to know that there’s nothing else to hope for. 

You don’t say a word about it though. Just flop your arms out in front of you, waiting, satisfied in your demands.

“Help me.”

And it passes like that, with more bribes in the form of barely-there presses of his lips to yours—a kiss for you to raise your arms as he slips something soft and oversized over your head, a kiss for you to clumsily remove the dress from underneath. A kiss to get you to leave him for a moment while he changed into his own night clothes after you’d begged and begged for him to spend the night beside you, and a kiss upon his return.

It feels like a lifetime of kisses to Armitage. He doesn’t know what that number would be for anyone else, but you’ve certainly exceeded it for him. He could die in his sleep tonight and have more than he ever deserved. 

And now you’re curled up beside him a hand at his waist, your head on his chest. Armitage breathes, but only barely, hoping he won’t wake you. 

The tension drains from him, his body the closest it’s been to relaxed in ages. He wonders if he should ask Phasma to invite you to dinner again.

He hopes the next time he kisses you, you'll be sober enough to remember it.

[kaminokatie]

Armitage Hux Dating Headcannons

Synopsis - General Armitage Hux dating headcannons.

Warnings - SFW/NSFW.

Word Count -

[Caffeinate Me]

SFW:

: ̗̀➛ At first, Armitage Hux was weary of you… Scared almost. After all, you were the sister of Kylo Ren. You shared many similarities with your brother, was bad temperament one of them? 

: ̗̀➛ Despite this, you consistently tried to show him that you weren’t a threat to him or his rank in the First Order. Alas, Armitage always kept a close eye on you from a distance. 

: ̗̀➛ One day, your brother and Armitage were engaged in a heated argument, one that had ended in Kylo force choking the ginger general, leading him to hang a few feet off the ground and pawing desperately at his throat. 

: ̗̀➛ Upon seeing the commotion from across the room, you quickly ran to Hux’s aid, pushing your brothers hand away and causing him to lose concentration. Hux fell from his spot in the air and onto his knees, quickly looking between you and Kylo Ren. 

: ̗̀➛ Unimpressed with your stunt, your brother stormed off in a huff leaving you alone with Hux who quickly averted his gaze from your form. 

: ̗̀➛ “You helped me?” He said, he questioned. His voice was full of surprise.

: ̗̀➛ “Why wouldn’t I?” You asked, holding your hand out to help him to his feet. 

: ̗̀➛ “I never thought you would go against your brother like that,” was all he said in response before taking your hand and standing to his feet. 

: ̗̀➛ When his hand touched yours, he felt an instant connection. One he never thought he’d feel from anybody. It shocked him so much, he immediately let go of your hand. You frowned at him but didn’t press the matter. 

: ̗̀➛ From that day, Armitage Hux felt differently about you. He couldn’t deny that when you thought about the day you had saved him from your brother's rage, his heartbeat quickened. Your answer to his question of why you had saved him had sent his head into a spiral; why had you saved him? 

: ̗̀➛ Armitage Hux kept a closer eye on you from across the bridge. Watching as you worked with your colleagues, the red lightsaber on your hilt seemingly unused since he had met you. 

: ̗̀➛ It was a few days after and you had decided to approach Hux. 

: ̗̀➛ “How are you feeling?” You asked him, hand reaching out to touch his shoulder comfortingly.

: ̗̀➛ He tensed up at your reaction and moved away, clearing his throat. “Better.”

: ̗̀➛ You were confused but didn’t press the matter, just giving him a quick smile before returning to your post. 

: ̗̀➛ Armitage Hux found himself falling for you quickly after your limited interactions. His heart continued to beat faster when you were near and he found himself watching you more and more on the bridge. 

: ̗̀➛ He felt an unpleasant feeling in his stomach when he saw you talking to male co-workers, one he knew was jealousy. He wasn’t sure how to quell his jealousy however. 

: ̗̀➛ He still kept his distance from you for a while longer. 

: ̗̀➛ “You’ve been acting weird,” you say to Hux one day. 

: ̗̀➛ He looks around to see the two of you were alone. He stammers his words out, throat dry from nerves. “I am?” 

: ̗̀➛ “You are,” you say bluntly. “Why?” 

: ̗̀➛ Hux shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

: ̗̀➛ You raise your arm to use the force and Hux flinches, thinking he’s about to get force choked when suddenly, he feels you in his mind. You're rifling through all his personal thoughts, and you see yourself. When you’re finished probing his mind, you drop your arm and looked at him in bewilderment. 

: ̗̀➛ “You like me?” You asked, stunned. 

: ̗̀➛ Hux stayed silent as you circled him, confusion evident in your eyes. 

: ̗̀➛ “You like me?” You repeated. 

: ̗̀➛ Hux still remained silent, but nodded his head. You grinned and stopped circling him once you reached his front. 

: ̗̀➛ “I like you too, General,” you smirked. 

: ̗̀➛ There was an unspoken romantic relationship between the two of you from that day on. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was… Nice. 

: ̗̀➛ At first, nobody knew about your relationship. It was kept quiet. Hux would invite you to his quarters during the ‘night’ so the two of you could have some quality time together. You would sit and talk about the events of the day, discuss First Order plans and talk about yourself. 

: ̗̀➛ Hux loved to listen to you speak. Your voice was a comfort for him. He could listen to you talk all day about the most miniscule of things. 

: ̗̀➛ Always sent gifts to your quarters to let you know that he was thinking of you when he couldn’t be with you. 

: ̗̀➛ Would always admire you from across the bridge. Watching the way you interacted with your brother, calming him down when things got a little too heated.

: ̗̀➛ Your first kiss happened on a date night in his quarters. You were both laying on his bed watching a movie on his holopad when all of a sudden Hux grabbed your hand. You weren’t startled by his action, just confused. But he pulled you closer so you were hovering over him, staring into each other's eyes. 

: ̗̀➛ He searched your eyes for any signs of uncomfort before pressing his lips to yours softly in the most brain-melting kiss you had ever had. 

: ̗̀➛ Your brother is the first to find out. Probing Hux’s mind to find out why he has been acting so differently lately. In his mind, he sees the two of you getting hot and heavy in a make-out session. 

: ̗̀➛ Kylo see’s red. He automatically chokes Hux (once again) to get more information out of him. And yet again, you come to his aid. 

: ̗̀➛ “What is the meaning of this?” Kylo snaps as you help Hux off the ground. 

: ̗̀➛ “The meaning of what?” You snap back. Your brother holds his unlit lightsaber close, ready to ignite it at a moment's notice. 

: ̗̀➛ “You and him!” He says, venom dripping from his tongue.

: ̗̀➛ “I love him, Kylo,” you say back.

: ̗̀➛ Hux jaw drops. The two of you had never said you love each other before. So to hear you say it for the first time, and to your brother of all people, it made his heart soar.   

: ̗̀➛ “I love her too,” Hux whimpers, his throat hoarse and dry. 

: ̗̀➛ Once again, Kylo storms off in a huff. He can’t believe you and Hux are together. 

: ̗̀➛ Hux will propose to you very early on. He knows you’re the one for him and won’t let you slip away from him. Of course, you say yes. 

: ̗̀➛ Wedding plans are swift and relatively easy. Hux takes care of almost everything, giving you the perfect wedding you had always dreamt of. 

: ̗̀➛ People of the First Order are surprisingly happy for the two of you, offering their congratulations in the hallway and on the bridge as the two of you walk side-by-side.

NSFW: 

: ̗̀➛ Hux is a virgin, 100%. 

: ̗̀➛ Will be nervous about your first time, and will constantly be thinking about it. What if he messes up somehow? What if he hurts you by accident?

: ̗̀➛ You initiate the first time during a heavy make-out session. You kiss down his neck, undoing the shirt of his uniform as you trail your lips further down. When you reach the waistband of his trousers, Hux is breathing heavily. You look up to see his eyes are closed and his lips are parted ever so slightly. You undo his trousers and pull out his heavy cock, licking the tip and earning a shiver from the general above you. You give him a quick blowjob, it’s so quick you wonder if he was even satisfied but he was the one that pulled your head away with whines that he was gonna cum if you carried on. 

: ̗̀➛ Your first time was slow and sweet. You were on top, taking control and showing Hux what you liked and where you liked it. He listened to every word you said, ingraining it into his memory so that he would remember for next time. 

: ̗̀➛ He cums quick, but not too quick that you were unsatisfied.

: ̗̀➛ From that day on Hux will take you whenever he wants, wherever he wants. In the middle of a shift? Meet him in a supply closet. At night? Come to his room sweetheart, he’ll take care of you. 

: ̗̀➛ Has a fantasy about fucking you on the bridge. Maybe one day the two of you can make it happen. 

: ̗̀➛ Favourite position is doggy. He loves being able to see your arse bounce when he thrusts into you. There’s something about it that sends him absolutely feral. Especially when he paws at your tits and feels them bouncing from the force of his pounding. 

: ̗̀➛ He enjoys being dominant in the bedroom. He loves having power over you, telling you what to do etc etc. However, when you bring up the idea of you being in control for one night, he thinks about it. 

: ̗̀➛ At first, he was weary about being submissive, but after he realised he thoroughly enjoyed it. He loved letting you use him like a toy to get off however you wanted to get off. 

: ̗̀➛ Therefore he’s a switch. Sometimes he’s dominant and sometimes he’s submissive. 

: ̗̀➛ At the end of the day, Hux uses sex to show you how much he loves you. Always taking care of you afterwards and making sure that you’re happy and content.

[lemongingerart]

Ssfofnckckkkjxkfkffhdxkbxdkdjdb I’m anticipating his other tasks now too 😏😏😏🥵🥵🥵

@girl-next-door-writes this was a really great drabble! Love how you built up the tension and put his 'professional scowl', his whole attitude, into this!

Thanks a lot, even though I don't really celebrate valentine I can't miss a chance to bring general ginger under everyone's attention lol... and you've written him so well!

For @lemongingerart

General Armitage Hux was a powerful man. When he demanded something, it happened so he had no doubt at all that you would be exactly where he had ordered you to be. Even if you had raised an eyebrow at his previous 'orders' when it came to your personal interactions.

Earlier, he had sent you a message informing you that your presence was required in his quarters at the end of your shift. He had made it quite clear that this was not a request, it was an order.

"General." an underling approached with his data padd and Armitage saw a message from you waiting for him. Glancing over, he took the padd and held back a smirk.

[I am here, General, as ordered, but it seems you are not. Do I need to put in a formal request?]

A smug, self satisfied feeling washed over him as he deleted the message and handed the data padd back.

"I will be retiring for now. I do not wish to be disturbed." His professional scowl was firmly in place, but beneath it was a wide grin as he anticipated what other tasks he could convince you to do for him.

[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. 

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

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.” 

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. 

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. 

“I love you, more."

“Love you.” He muttered into your ear.