#hux is SNATCHED

[avercado5]

It’s anatomy practice, obviously.

[generalkenobee]

Kylo finding you after being snatched from him and all he can focus on is getting you 🥹

"I wouldn't stop till I found you"

Hey so I literally thought I wrote this and had it posted but apparently Tumblr was being dumb so please don't be upset 😭

Warnings: language, violence, Kylo being the angry hoe he is, death, let me know if I missed anything:)

(he's so pretty omfg-)

"no, I don't think you understand." KYLOS VOUCE was so loud that it echoed through the hanger bag as he yelled at an assortment of different piolets and stormtroopers.

"we won't rest till she's found. We won't stop for anything, it doesn't matter what it is. This is our top priority!"

Kylo felt hot white rage seeping into his body. Why did they have to take you. They could've taken a stormtrooper, a cadet, Hux, there were so many people who knew more.

You were completely innocent, sitting in the rebels interrogation room being yelled at by some man with short brown curls, he was going on about how "we won't let you go till you tell us" he was going on with the act of why they would do.

"Poe stop it. It's not like she's Ren" a tall, young girl with quite the completion walked into the room slapping Poe's shoulder "I'll take it from here"

The women looked at you for a moment almost as if you was deciding something.

"you're not evil..you're" she paused taking your hand in hers and closing her eyes "well you're a kind soul with nothing but good intentions...why are you with Ren?"

You looked up at her from your seat not saying a word

---

"Supreme Leader, we've found something on the meridian system" The general said turning his data pad towards Kylo.

"well? Why are you still here ?! Go get the fighters ready and prepare my ship, we're going to the meridian system."

The supreme leader walked away from Hux feeling a new sense of pride in hopes of finding you.

---

"there they are sir"

"prepare for landing near the south passage. I have a Jedi to kill"

When his ship landed he practically jumped out and ran toward the entrance, saber in hand

He was so mad that anyone who came near him got thrown to the ground via the force. He didn't stop running till he got to the interaction room when you were sitting with Rey, her hand in yours

Now this was a sight to behold. How dare she?

Kylo used his saber to cut a hole through the door and walked through

"why?! Why would you take her?! She doesn't know anything, you could've taken anyone on the ship but you took her!" Kylo screamed throwing Rey against the wall so hard that there was now a crack where she had hit.

"Kylo!" You screamed jumping into his arms and wrapping your legs around him pulling him closer

"I-I didn't tell them anything-" hot tears started to pool in your eyes while Kylo traced your back giving it light scratches "I missed you so much..I didn't know if I would ever see you again.."

Kylo looked at you and laid his lips into yours more gentle then he ever has

"you know I wouldn't stop till I found you"

[free-boundsoul]

A DAMN Good Time

Okay, I love @romirola 's Hypno Fics! And an idea came to mind with Damien helping Freelancer clear their mind after they've been dealing with some stress from a certain class. There is NSFW, so minors, DNI.

You can read the full fic on Ao3 here

Damien bit the inside of his cheek in frustration, trying to stave off the heated words that were on the tip of his tongue. But he’d, mostly, grown past such impulses. Especially when it came to the people he loved. Even if one of those loved ones was making him want to shake them silly with their stubbornness. Forget what stereotypes on how bull-headed Earth elementals could be, the Freelancer had them all beat.

          He truly understood the drive to be perfect when it came to classes, to master a difficult magic and take that top spot. Hell, when he was still enrolled at D.A.M.N and he and the Freelancer took the same class, he was just as guilty as trying to one up them, the two battling for every point on assignments and tests. He admired that drive in them, loved that he could have a rival that he could still come home to and that competitive edge didn’t go past the threshold. Well, sometimes in the bedroom, but that was another matter.

          But watching the Freelancer delve into their studies for the last couple of days had been stressful, and not just for him. Even their recently acquired Water elemental had noticed that something wasn’t right with the usually friendly and open freelancer. They were secluding themselves in the room they shared with Gavin, focusing on the Advanced Telepathic Control Studies coursework. It was a magic they weren’t too bad at, they’d passed the beginner class with flying colors. He could understand their frustration at the struggle they were facing.

          But would they ask any of their partners for help? Of course not. Too concerned with making a burden of themselves no matter how many times they’d been assured that no one would consider them one. Damien knew that kind of trauma was hard to break through, and he was trying to be patient. To the Freelancer’s credit, they’d been getting better at the little things: asking Hux to grab a forgotten lunch, or confiding in Lasko over what their counselor had said about their schedule. But asking for help with a class they were struggling with? Nope, that was entirely their problem.

          Damien let out a sigh that steamed the air in front of his face, his frustration bubbling to the surface. Why was it just the two of them today? Gavin had had to make the odd trip to Aria, and Hux, Lasko and Dear were all at work. Which left Damien on his own to witness his partner neglect themselves. All. Day. They’d rejected his offer of breakfast, grabbing some toast before retreating to the room. They hadn’t come out for lunch at all. He could feel the magic in the air as they practiced…and practiced. This wasn’t healthy!

          Damien paused in his mental rant as the bedroom door opened and the Freelancer stumbled out. They were wearing the same baggy sleep shirt they’d slept in, the shorts they had on barely peeked out from underneath the shirt’s hem. Their hair was a mess from constantly running their hands through it in frustration. The dark circles under their eyes looked almost like bruises from how dark they were, did they even sleep last night? They moved so stiffly he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d just been hunched over textbooks all day, barely moving from the spot on the floor they liked to occupy despite the desk they had.

          Freelancer didn’t even glance at him as they made their way to the kitchen, pulling out a cup of ramen that was the last straw for the Fire elemental. In a few quick strides he was at their side, snatching the Styrofoam cup from them before a quick flare of his magic had it incinerated in an instant. They blinked owlishly at him as their nose crinkled at the smell. “Damien?! What the fuck?”

         He waved his hand, a little psychokinesis had the window opening and a burst of air magic had the kitchen aired out. “We’ve all given you your space, Freelancer. You need a break, and you’re taking one.” He said firmly.

          They let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose “I can’t, Dames. The final is in three days. I need to cram as much as I can. Once the final is over, I’ll take a break, I promise. But right now, I can’t.” They stressed the last word before looking up at him, the anxiety in their gaze making something in Damien’s chest twist, and it wasn’t his core.

          His hand cupped their cheek, the warmth coming from his skin a comfort that had the Freelancer wavering and they had to struggle to stop themselves from leaning into that touch. “Why can’t you, Ember? Look at yourself, you’re barely upright. This is more that just wanting to take the top spot, isn’t it?”

          Freelancer’s breath left them in a shuddering sigh, and they couldn’t stop the tears that welled in the corner of their eyes even if they hated it. Their teeth gnawed at their already chapped lips before they gave a minute shake of their head. “It’s…it’s really stupid, Dames.”

          He let out a soft huff as his thumb traced over the crest of their cheek. “I’ll be the judge of that. Sit down and tell me about what’s on your mind. I’ll make you something to eat that’ll actually help replenish the energy you need.”

          Their lower lip pushed out in a pout as they stepped back to take one of the seats at the kitchen island. “Ramen isn’t so bad…there are dehydrated veggies in it.”

          “If you want ramen, I’ll make you real ramen, not that crap.” Another wave of his hand had the ash that had fallen to the floor gone. He moved around the kitchen as he busied his hands. “Or I can make you that pasta dish you really like? Or we have stuff for tacos? Or that hotdish that Hux’s moms made? We have options, Ember.” He gave them a grin as he placed a bottle of water in front of them.

          Their mouth twisted in consideration before they cracked the bottle open to take a drink. “The hotdish sounds good?”

          “Then I’ll make that. Thank you, I was wondering what to make for dinner anyway.” Damien pulled out the ingredients he’d need, his glance going to the way their fingers crinkled the plastic of the water bottle. “Alright, Ember, spill it. What’s got you so knotted up?”

          They rubbed at a spot by their nose, frowning at the bottle like it was the cause of their worries. Damien let them collect their thoughts as he methodically washed his hands before he started to make the hotdish. It was a simple thing, just throwing ingredients into the baking dish but it was homemade food that would make both Hux and the Freelancer remember making it with the former’s moms, and good memories and good food were just what his partners needed.

          “It’s my partner for the class… she’s a Telepath in her first year and…” Their shoulders hunched as they looked down at the marble of the island top, tracing one of the lines with their eyes. “They keep dropping these little quips about how I shouldn’t be so stressed I’m not getting this. I’m just a Freelancer. It’s not my fault that I’m so…limited.” Their lips curled in distaste, like the words themselves tasted bitter. “But I thought I was doing fine! I was getting top marks and the only thing for the final is accessing the mind of your partner across campus. But no matter what I do, she says she can’t feel me! We live close by enough that even when I’m here, she should be able to sense me. I can feel her core, and I keep trying to like…knock? At her mental walls, but she says she doesn’t feel me at all. She’s even spoken in my mind to prove it’s not a distance issue. I just…ugh! I have to get back to studying Damien, there has to be something I’m missing and I’m gonna find it.”

          They went to stand before a force kept them in their seat, they turned to glare at Damien’s back as he placed the dish in the oven and set the timer before he turned toward them and his magic let them go. “I told you: you need a break. I’m not just gonna let you run off.” They crossed their arms over their chest as they huffed. “Now, I think your partner’s being a petty piece of shit and is lying over being able to sense you. It makes sense if you can’t break into her thoughts since Telepaths are taught how to maintain strong mental shields once their powers manifest. Tomorrow, once you’re rested and your magic is replenished, I’ll go out to whatever the distance is and you can practice with me. That way we can verify if what she says is true or not.”

          They blinked at him, “You have work tomorrow Damien-“

          “We’ll do it before or after, Freelancer. I can and will make time for you.” He stepped over to them and took their hand with the island between them. His thumb rubbed little circles over their knuckles. “You deserve time too, Ember. I know we have a lot to juggle with our group. But I’m never too busy to help you with something.”

          They turned their hand so they could entwine their fingers with his, giving him a grateful squeeze even as new tears formed in their eyes. Their throat felt too tight for words. They didn’t think words would be able to accurately convey how thankful they were to have someone like Damien in their life. He got them in a way that no one else did, the drive, the desire to prove themselves past the designation that their specialty granted them. And he wouldn’t let them torment themselves when he could see that they were neglecting their own needs.

          “You gonna talk to Lasko about their comments? The professor shouldn’t be allowing her to say shit like that, you know?” Damien raised an eyebrow at them.

          They sighed and shrugged their shoulders. “She didn’t say it in front of the professor or any of our classmates. Just the times we studied together. Or she said it…in my head.” They swallowed thickly, still gripping his hand. They didn’t want to admit that what she’d said had rattled them. Made them question their talent and the skills they’d worked doggedly to perfect. It wasn’t the first time they’d heard those kinds of comments. They’d never be as strong as a specialized magic user, they couldn’t hold a candle to Damien, or shake the earth like Hux.

          Damien’s eye twitched, considering there had to be something for them to do, D.A.M.N. did have a few demons on staff that could verify the memories, if Freelancer was up to it. But that was something they’d discuss later. Right now, his priority was making sure they were well fed, hydrated and taken care of. Lasko and Dear would be at campus late tonight dealing with the preparations for their own finals. Hux had texted that his current job would be running late, and the drive home would make it even longer. And who knew how long Gavin’s visit would take? So, it was up to Damien to take their mind off their troubles.

          “Alright, we’ll come back to that later. For now, no more stressing over the class. You’ve prepared a lot, Freelancer, your crummy partner aside, I’m sure you’ll pass with flying colors, just like always. Let’s just get your mind off it for now, hmm?” He suggested as his thumb circled over their joint, the warmth his body gave off usually a soothing sensation.

          They sighed as their shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if I can…it’s all that’s buzzing around in my head. I just can’t…shut it off, y’know?” They let out another frustrated breath as their leg bounced, the chaotic energy of having to do something needing to find some kind of outlet. Relaxing when they had classes to focus on wasn’t their strong suit.

          Damien hummed softly as a thought came to mind. He felt his lips curl into a grin as he squeezed their hand, making their eyes return to his. “Well, we do have something that can help with that, don’t we?”

          Their eyes widened slightly at the realization behind his question. “Y-You want to? I know you don’t use it that often…” Their voice trailed off in their uncertainty. They would never want Damien to do something he wasn’t interested in, even if it would benefit them. That doubt vanished when his other hand reached out to cup their cheek, his grip gentle but firm as his thumb slid against their cheek. His dark brown eyes were warm, and the confidence there made it easy to lean into his touch.

          “I know how it works and you need it, right? Let’s get you fed and showered and then I’ll help you empty all thoughts out of your pretty little head, okay?”

Tags: @pinksparkl @thatweirdomidas @dawnofiight @professionallyyappinabtangst @vegafan69

[queen-of-elves]

Getting caught cuddling with General Hux and taking the blame saying you were the one being clingy but really it was him lol the man is like a needy cat and the purring (smooching noises) gave you away

you can honestly go in any direction you want with this. i just thought it'd be a fun lil idea to base off

Getting caught

A/ N: I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH THANK YOOU!! I am telling you Hux is always going to be this soft and touch starved man that I adore plus I am in my Hux era obsession so this request was soooo sooooooo perfect

A/N 2.0: I also made it so that their relationship was not official yet hopefully that’s no problem

Word count: over 1.8K

Warning: affection?? Lol and cursing as always, also not proofread

*********

General Armitage Hux was a man of strict discipline and undeniable loyalty to the First Order, you have admired these qualities of his since the first day you had the luck to be under his command. There was just something so interesting about him which exceeded even beyond him becoming one of the youngest generals in the First Order history. So it made you a one lucky individual when he set his eyes on you.

You really hoped his secretive glances were interpreted by others as an angry stare at a subordinate or just his regular cold and stern glare because today was awfully full of these glances. It was a miracle that no one has yet figured out this weird arrangement between the two of you. No, you were not dating, at least none of you verbally stated it. But by the time the two of you had already made out in a random maintenance room or closet for the second time that week it was obvious. Something was cooking between the two of you and obviously keeping it secret as much as was humanly possible was an unsaid rule.

It would be a lie to say you knew exactly how it all started. You just knew that one thing led to another and you and the handsome general Hux ended up passionately kissing in one of the empty corridors of the Finalizer. But this all is a tale for another day.

This time it wouldn’t be any different, you were following the commanding officer throughout the left part of the flagship’s corridor and discussing the next plans after the last mission. Nothing out of ordinary, just a normal conversation in the middle of the day, you were afterall one of the main strategists on the flagship in the command of Armitage Hux so it was expected of you to have frequent interactions with him. However, today felt very different to you, if you didn’t count the stares throughout the day, Armitage was still acting jittery and unconcentrated which was highly unlike him. 

Did something happen?

You couldn’t help but feel concern for the wellbeing of your general. In fact you were so lost in your thoughts over it, you haven’t even realized that you have just confirmed a false statement about one of the missions from last week. And then it happened again and again, discussion containing false information soon turned into one about even nonexistent missions planned for the next few days. A confusion slowly crept on your face, did you prepare data for the wrong missions? 

What is he talking about?

And then it hit you. He was furiously looking behind you, checking the corridor before spinning on his heel and glancing down the other side of the hall. You two were the only one or so it seemed since you couldn’t hear any steps or talking except for Hux who was still going on about the fake mission. When his inspection of the hall was done and he seemed fairly satisfied, snatching your hand and dragging you to the door of what you deemed to be some sort of maintenance room was the next step in his plan. 

So before you could react properly he smashed the lock on the side of the door causing the door to open widely and pushed you in. You had no time to even recognize what the room actually contained before the door closed behind the both of you, plugging you into a darkness. It took a bit for your eyes to adjust and it also got worse when he placed his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him. You couldn’t make out any specific details of his face but he still looked so handsome to you. 

Armitage truly was a being above all in your eyes, handsome, disciplined and incredibly smart, too smart for his own good sometimes and this man, this stupidly handsome man was now kissing you. His hands rested on your cheeks and lips on yours and you felt once again as in ecstasy, just like you were drug to him, he was to you.

He slowly backed you to the nearest wall until your back hit it and then it all really started. His kisses went across your whole face, starting at a temple on one side, stopping momentarily to kiss you furiously and ending at the jaw across before he gave himself the time to properly breathe. This was what you loved about kissing with him, how out of breath he would get, it was as if he couldn’t get enough of you and it made you feel eternal.

There was nothing explicitly sexual about this, nothing beyond simple makeout, no great sinful desire at least this time. And if there was anything in it, it was all about comfort, the comfort you brought to him and you could feel it radiate from him. He needed the comfort you provided, that only you could provide.

This time he nudged his face into the croak of your neck and inhaled slowly while squeezing you in a tight hug as if he was afraid you would turn into mist and disappear from his arms.

With Hux it wasn’t just about the kissing, the cuddling was also very prominent and you were pretty sure oftentimes Armitage enjoyed the cuddling much more than he would ever admit. At this point in his life this man was just beyond touch starved and if he would let you, you would give him hugs any time he wanted. It made you so happy to see him smile after every quick kiss or just slight touch of hands that got unnoticed by others. You truly loved making him happy and it felt like he was on the same note with you. 

Armitage was also decently vocal, actually he was the most vocal guy you have ever been with, you noticed it the first time the two of you made out in his office. The little moans that escaped his mouth and oh my, you would be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of the sound he would make. Whenever it was caused by you hugging him or kissing the hell out of him.

His mouth felt like it was everywhere, that HE was everywhere and you couldn’t get enough of it. Armitage’s hand moved from your shoulder to your hip while the other sneaked on the small of your back, gripping the hip and bringing you again so close you could hardly breathe. Both of your chests were now touching but even without his mouth touching you, you felt the excitement accumulating between your bodies. 

You have now noticed his vibrant red hair all out of place, you quite liked the disheveled look on him, and the buttons of his uniform sat loose, he must have unfasten some of them while he dragged you to this room and in between the kisses. But instead of kissing you again he nuzzled his face into your neck again while humming slowly. He was contend, purring like a cat onto your neck and chest. You hope for this moment to never end, to just simply cuddle him until you die.

However, the whole moment shattered with the heavy door sliding open with a long whoosh sound. The both of you stood frozen for agonizingly long, hoping whoever opened the door would either not notice you, which was very unlikely considering you were an eyesore in the now lit room, or pretend to not notice you. In those excruciatingly drawn-out seconds you have noticed a blush creeping on Armitage's face but even that image ripped out of your mind by a stammering voice of a much more embarrassed officer.

“I-I am so sor-rry, SIR. I d-din’t know that- I heard a we-weird sound and I thought-” Oh god, the two of you must have been really loud if they could hear you through the door. And on top of that you were pretty sure that officer wouldn’t keep his tongue behind their teeth after what they saw.

“Get OUT!” Armitage's voice echoed through the room silencing the officer. 

You couldn’t see his face, his silhouette was illuminated by the hall's light still present in the room after the officer just ran for his life, leaving the door open. And there was a certainty the officer wouldn’t escape the punishment Armitage was already making in that smart head of his.

When he finally turned to you, you could see his face seeping red, the tips of his ears caressed with blush just like his cheeks and neck. He wasn’t looking at you, instead his wide eyes rested a few meters before your feet on the metal floor. Half of his face was obscured by his left hand which was holding his mouth in a tight grip. If it weren’t for the blush you would have thought he was contemplating his life choices or maybe he really was and maybe this was it. You knew Armitage was a man of a great reputation and to taint it with a flirt with one of his subordinates was unforgivable.

“I hoped it wouldn’t get out so soon.” A stoic mask was placed again on his face, the one he sported when he commanded on the bridge, when he was back in his role, unforgiving and with no mercy for failure. You did enjoy seeing him like that, full of pride and in his element but you also enjoyed how he would hold your hand while kissing your cheeks softly. The duality of this man surely would be the death of you one day and maybe this was the day.

“It seems it’s official then-” Your voice interrupted him.“What’s official?” Your heart was pounding so hard against your rib cage you were afraid it might leave bruises, you were too nervous to care for formalities now. This could be either exciting news or a soul crushing one.

“Us, obviously.” He stated, while he still hasn't noticed your nervous expression and your eyes following his every move before the realization came crashing down on you.

Oh.

This time you could hear the heavy steps, it obviously wasn’t an officer, probably a stormtrooper but you still didn’t expect Phasma, the stormtrooper captain, to appear in the still open door, her stare unrecognized by you thanks to her helmet, causing Armitage to turn his back on you again.

“Captain Phasma, I apologize it’s my fault I-” This time it was your general interrupting you.

“Yes, your choice of location to inform me of classified information is-,” Armitage turned back to you, shooting you an unidentifiable look,“ maybe next time choose my office. People could get the wrong idea, officer.” It seemed to be the end of the conversation or at least Phasma deemed it as one since she turned ready to leave while informing general Hux of new details about her mission. However, before both of them could exit the room you caught Armitage shooting you a smirk.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered with a small smile painted on your lips.

Oh god, that man was truly going to be the death of you.

[bunnimew]

We Are Gathered Here Today

Kylo fiddled with Hux's tea cup, making it hover in the air. He tried to sound carefully disinterested. "Have you ever thought about… marriage?"

"Of course," Hux answered quickly. He snatched the cup back and set it down primly. "It would be an excellent tax savings."

Kylo sighed. "Of course."

[fridayincarnate]

Happy Kiss a Ginger Day!

Hux dreads a frivolous holiday, certain that his rivals in the First Order will take advantage of the occasion to humiliate him. He would expect Ren to be the first in line—to humiliate him, of course, not kiss him—but what happens when that isn't the case? (1125 words)

Hux spends the entire day on edge. On any other day these stark black corridors are a familiar comfort, but they draw attention to his brilliant red hair that is deeply undesirable today. He sees the gleam of mischief as each set of eyes locks onto him and he locks down his scowl tight.

No one would ever have dared to steal a kiss of all things from the General last time this ridiculous holiday came up on the calendar. Things have changed since Supreme Leader Kylo Ren snatched the throne out of Hux’s reach, though, and he has heard the rumblings of the rumor mill. The officers who had once respected Hux—or at least feared him—are now eager to see him taken down a peg. This is exactly the kind of humiliation they will delight in.

He wonders which fool will be the first to try it. Hux may no longer have the support of the Supreme Leader, but he still has a monomolecular blade up his sleeve.

It turns out to be a smug-looking captain, on the bridge, at the worst possible moment.

Hux freezes. His fingers twitch around empty air, unable to reach for his knife.

It is the worst possible moment because Ren is here, speaking with Pryde about battle plans which should be Hux’s responsibility—yet another indignity. Were Hux the highest ranked officer present, he would not have a single qualm about teaching this man a pointed lesson, but Pryde and Ren have the authority to impose worse consequences than an embarrassing knock to his dignity. The impertinent captain appears to know it, too, his smirk far too bold as he reaches for the side of Hux’s neck.

Even worse than the threat of court martial is the thought of explaining this whole thing to Ren, who seems to be oblivious to this extremely irritating First Order tradition. (Hux suspects his father started it to harass the pretty female officers who were too smart to have anything to do with him otherwise, but to Hux’s great annoyance the “holiday” survived Brendol.) Hux isn’t sure why he thinks Ren is unaware of it. Perhaps because Ren was the only person with the status to get away with publicly embarrassing him like this for the last five years, and Hux was certain that nothing could appeal to Ren more.

Publicly embarrassing him, that is. Not kissing him. An unwelcome flutter turns Hux’s stomach—nerves, obviously. He does not dwell on why explaining “Kiss a Ginger Day” to Ren is a fate worse than court martial; it simply is.

The captain presses closer into Hux’s space. Hux senses the entire bridge lean in, holding its collective breath to see if Hux will permit this. Lieutenant Mitaka’s pitiful doe eyes look on with poorly disguised hope. A sadistic smile twists Pryde’s dry lips.

Hux closes his eyes rather than meet Ren’s.

A shocked murmur passes over him in the dark, followed by a thud and a sickening crunch. Hux opens his eyes. The captain is a groaning pile on the floor on the other side of the room.

“General Hux. With me.” Ren storms right past Hux, cape trailing behind him. He does not turn to see Pryde follow, instead holding up a hand and barking a sharp, “Dismissed.”

Dread sinks like a stone in Hux’s chest. He has no choice but to follow Ren, alone, into the lift. He braces himself as the doors close and waits for Ren to demand an explanation. The last thing he expects Ren to say is:

“You’re safe.”

It would be wise to stifle his disbelieving scoff for his own continued safety, but reason is a moment too slow to stop Hux’s retort. “With you? Excuse me if I don’t hold my breath.”

“You could show some gratitude,” Ren scowls. “I just saved your life.”

“You—” Hux’s head snaps up to meet Ren’s gaze. “What?”

“That man. He just…” Ren takes a halting step towards Hux, brow gnarled between confusion and hostility. “He tried to kill you. Reached for your neck. I stopped him.”

Hux lets out an embarrassing, fluttery laugh before he can stop himself.

“You value your life so little?” Ren’s eyes flick over Hux’s face, studying his expression. A warm puff of breath ghosts across Hux’s cheeks. He shivers.

“Far from it,” Hux says. “He wasn’t trying to kill me, Ren, he was….”

Hux falters, heat flooding up from his chest at the prospect of saying it out loud. Ren is standing so close. They are not touching, but Hux still feels his body heat in the excited stir of the electrons between them, the only source of warmth in this cold, compact lift.

“What?” Ren’s eyebrows twitch.

“He was trying to kiss me,” Hux says, and immediately feels ridiculous.

“Oh.” The crease in Ren’s brow deepens. “Then it’s even better that I stopped him.”

“Better?” Hux sharpens his incredulity to a point. “You would rather I be killed than kissed?”

“Yes. No. Why would anyone kiss you?” Ren looms, his shadow eclipsing Hux from the harsh fluorescence of the lift. The question stings for reasons Hux can’t explain, but Ren’s blunt jab wields more consternation than mockery.

“You really don’t know what day it is, do you?”

Ren looks Hux up and down. “Your birthday?” he asks flatly.

“You don’t even know,” Hux insists with a shade of a smirk, “and you can’t stand the thought that anyone might kiss me.” Hux notices the way Ren’s gaze lingers on his mouth and is beginning to understand why.

“If you won’t tell me,” Ren says, his voice gathering stormclouds as he raises a threatening hand to Hux’s temple, “I’ll just have to—”

Hux catches the end of Ren’s sentence with a firm crush of his lips.

Ren chokes on his shock, his broad chest shuddering in a gasp that is singularly satisfying to devour. Hux knows he’s made the right decision when Ren folds around him like gift wrap around a present—secreting him away from any prying eyes but the intended recipient’s. Ren’s kiss is an act of possession, but it is also an act of worship. Hux has never felt so cherished as he does with Ren’s plush lips chasing every taste of his own like he’s afraid he’ll run out of time. For every demand that Ren’s firm hands make, tugging Hux against him by his waist, Ren’s lips give him tenfold back, yielding to Hux’s licks and bites with a desperation that he never expected to feel from the Supreme Leader. Ren chases Hux’s mouth with a needy moan when Hux pulls back.

“Happy Kiss a Ginger Day, Ren.”

The look on Ren’s face is almost as delicious as their second kiss.

[rommonoch]

I have once again snatched a lego Hux from @hyokeh >:}

"Would all the stormtroopers please stop dropping their rubbish into the Starkiller cannon, it is not an incinerator. Repeat: It is NOT an incinerator!"

My first snatch

[enkisstories]

The wrecking of the Steadfast

General Hux finally has what he always wanted! Well, not the Emperor's throne... or the title of Grand-Marshall... or Kylo Ren dead... But he has that mouthy, enervating Poe Dameron helpless at his mercy, and that's a fortune not to scoff at. However, the General needs the little nusiance and his friends alive to escape from captivity, if he doesn't want get executed for treason by his former comrades. And someone really should do something about that badly damaged star destroyer in orbit, that's generating debris left and right, each piece of space trash threatening to crash into the colony the fugitives are hiding in. Worst trouble a single destroyer has ever given Poe! Over the course of their escape, the unlikely allies Dameron and Hux turn scarily human in each other's eyes. Is there a chance for their growing bond to survive those few days of having a shared goal?

Read here.

Excerpt:

A few paces to the side Hux sat with his back to the wall. He repeatedly tossed a small rubber ball against a board saying “No Vacancy” (apparently the safe house was officially registered as a vacation home for visitors from the countryside) and caught it again when it rebounded. The pace was much slower than if Poe had played the same game, but even so it was fast enough to make the pilot’s only so recently injured head spin.

“Sit”, Hux said without looking at the arrival.

Poe slid down the wall next to him. When Hux tossed the ball the next time, Poe snatched it on its return.

“Can we talk? In earnest, I mean.”

“I won't try to talk you out of flying tomorrow, but do not expect encouragement from me, either. You know the risks. Do what you want… as you always do.”

“I wanted to talk about Crait.”

Now Poe had the mole’s full attention.

“Crait?! What would there to be discuss about Crait between us?”

“Kylo Ren. You had him out in the open and at point blank range. Why didn’t you order your crew to fire? Why didn’t you remove the one obstacle between you and the throne right there?”

“And they say I’m bad at making friends…”

“Look, Hux, I still haven’t fully recovered, but me and my friends are expected to sleep under the same roof as you tonight. We discussed taking shifts standing watch or locking you up in the broom cabinet to minimize the risk of getting assassinated."

"Oh, did you?"

Acid would have been gentler than the General’s voice in this moment, but Poe had to admit that he wouldn’t have taken this revelation any kinder. His reply would have been more creative, but stung no less.

"Help me understand you! There seems to have been a line you were not willing to cross. That’s quite out of character for you.”

[...]

Now Poe threw himself around with a speed that had to be even less healthy for him than the emotions. He balled his fists and advanced, but stopped short of hitting the enemy officer.

“No way you could have known that!” Poe shouted. “Not that! This song is about the polar opposite of what the First Order stands for!”

How could it be possible that the enemy took everything the rebels held dear, but twisted it? That was worse than destroying something, this claiming of something good for themselves, putting it through the wringer and spitting it out desecrated.

“I sang this song to Ren, in my head, when he waltzed into a council session with a new mask on”, Hux said calmly, with just a hint of glee. “Because, see? He’s worshipping the ashes, Vader’s ashes, and he’s not going anywhere doing so. Whereas I preserve the flame. Four. Beams. In. A. Single. Shot. The sun resulting from the Hosnian cataclysm will still be burning when nobody remembers us anymore.”

“You… bastard…”

Hux’ eyes bore into Poe’s. They were pure ice, despite all the talk of fire, cold, but not uncaring. To the contrary, the icicle’s sharpness cared a lot, but what it cared about was to cause pain.

“Finally woken up, little pilot?” Hux barked. “Good for you. Who do you think you are to "test" me for indoor privileges?! I’m not you guys’ pet, not the tamed danger! A war trophy, maybe, but even that remains to be seen. You can’t decide what to do with me, as if I were a frog your kid has brought into the house! I sleep where I decide to…”

There was a short, uncomfortable pause, uncomfortable for the General, that was, seeing what had briefly flashed through his mind. But then he decided to just run with it and shouted:

“…and if that’s YOUR bed, you’ll shut up and like it!”

And with these words he rose and strode into the house. As confidently as his still not fully healed leg would allow, anyway.

In the common room BB-8 turned his head away from a holographic game he had been playing with [an OC]. He now fixed his gaze on Hux and, as the droid assumed, Poe entering the house behind him. Since BB-8 was the one projecting the gaming field, it now fell over Hux. White and black dots on a grid obscured his sight and in a reflex he tried to wave them away. Suddenly realizing that Hux had come in alone, that there was no Poe anywhere in sight, BB-8 deactivated the game and rolled towards the door at top-speed, deliberately tripping the General. Whatever had occurred between him and Poe, it was painfully obvious that they hadn’t parted as friends.

Second time flat on my belly in as many days. And again in full sight of the rebels….

[...]

Hux hadn’t expected to fall to sleep this fast. As a result he woke up so early that it was still night. In the bed standing at a right angle with his, Poe’s hand had slipped free from under the covers and was dangling over the edge. How typical! The little barbarian didn’t care one bit about how he was presenting himself to the world. Not that it would have mattered in any way, shape or form, normally. But in his current condition sleeping like a heap of droids in the Lost and Found office could be detrimental to Poe’s recovery.

Giving in to an impulse, Hux reached out, intent on putting the hand back where it belonged. He wasn’t prepared for it to twitch and the fingers to curl as if to clamp the attacker down. Since it was too late to retract his own hand, Hux went for the only option left to him: at least squeeze the other’s hand instead of letting it capture him.

Poe blinked. “Huh?”

“Don’t ask. Just. Don’t ask. So tired of your shit…”

“Yeah, same here!”

As if it wasn’t him, who had to clean up after every mess Snoke, Ren and Hux had caused to the galaxy for years now! Poe had entered his thirties and imagined his life differently, but here they were, fighting a war same as their parents before them had done, yet the First Order General had the nerve to complain to HIM? Sure, you have it so hard…

But then again, locked in each other’s grasp now they were just two people who had woken up in the middle of the night, and in this state pretty much every hand felt the same. This hand Poe was holding had killed and tortured, but it wasn’t  incapable of caressing and comforting, too. There just had never been any reason to for it.

“Is there a chance you might let go?” Hux asked, albeit without making any effort to wiggle free.

“Not even if you directly asked me to, no.”

Back to sleep Poe’s mind went. And so they lay, holding hands. After a while Hux had fallen asleep again, too.

By morning both their hands hang over the edge. They must have let go of each other, but they couldn’t remember when that had happened, so they pretended it had never been a thing in the first place. For what was there to their “bond”, viewed rationally? Poe Dameron had hit his head, he wasn’t thinking clearly. And Armitage Hux was alone in unfamiliar territory, a situation that left a member of the incredibly social species that was humankind no choice but to attach themselves, even if that meant fraternizing with the enemy. There was nothing surprising here, or particularly deep and especially nothing lasting.

[...]

Hux shook Poe by the shoulder.

“Waky-waky, rebel scum!”

“Uh… Is it morning already?”

“Uh-huh. How are you in the spot where other people have their brains?”

“Fine, I think. Your leg?”

“The injury is still noticeable, but not what I’d call painful. A bit annoying.”

“That does translate into lowered reaction speed, though.”

“You tell me!” A frown, quickly followed by a smile. “So, General Dameron, do you want to sit this mission out and play Pazaak together in the infirmary?”

My new rank… Quick, translate Hux to human speech, what does he mean to convey? Ah, right. Acknowledging the rank granted to me by the military of a political body he doesn’t recognize as legit is like offering first name terms. And actually better than if he had done that. I certainly don’t respect this man as a person, but he really is a competent strategist.

“Tempting, Grand-Marshal", Poe returned the offer. "But seeing how we fared last time we entered one, I have to pass.”

[...]

“Ready to go?” Finn asked.

Rose, Poe and the droids replied affirmative, then five sets of sensors focused on the defector. Having a second engineer next to Rose and a sixths body overall with them would be helpful, of course, but bringing Hux along was still a risk.

Hux swallowed the last of his tea. He understood that acting naturally was his best bet now, if he didn’t want to get left behind tied up (and probably having killed one of the rebels before they overpowered him). Unfortunately “acting naturally” for Armitage Hux boiled down to striking a pose and giving a speech:

“Recently I found myself thinking that with you by my side I’d made it to the top, after all. The way you reacted to each of my leaks, putting your expanded knowledge to the best effect, was a joy to watch. Very different from how one imagines disorganized anarchists. It’s not the compliment you want to hear, I’m sure, but I look forward to our mission together. At the very least it should be interesting.”

It seemed to have worked, because the next moment they were sitting in a speeder and were on their way to the space port.

[headphones-ct-09978]

❄Snowdrift❄

Genre: fluff.

Characters: Kylo Ren, Zaria (Reader), and General Hux.

Note: Implied poly relationship between Kylo,Hux, and Zaria (reader)

Summary: Starkiller base, being situated on the planet Ilum, saw many snow storms. This was your second snow storm since you arrived with your master, Kylo Ren. You had plans for yourself, since you had never seen snow before. However, as always, Kylo Ren had other plans for you.

Tags: @tigerkay93 @lifeofroos

. General Hux stood just outside the base entrance, looking at all the snow that had fallen during the night. The wind made his coat billow about him, the fabric snapping behind him when the gusts picked up. The general clasped his hands behind him and he turned his face upwards, inhaling the fresh scent of the snow and chill air.

"You're up early, General."

Hux nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the sudden deep resonating voice beside him.

"Do you ever announce your presence?" Hux said sharply, a bit annoyed at being startled.

"Do you ever pay attention to your surroundings, General? I thought you were trained better." Kylo responded with equal edge.

Both men stood in a brief but uncomfortable silence. That is until you barreled past them shouting at the top of your lungs "IT SNOWED!!!!"

Hux snorted in amusement as the girl dove into the snow as if it was a lake in the warm months back home. Your home, that is.

"She really is graceful, isn't she?" Hux said sarcastically to the masked man beside him. Kylo let out what sounded like a weary sigh. "She's....a work in progress."

"Oh I can see that." With a smirk Hux turned on his heels and went back inside. Not before pausing, however, to point to the object resting against one of the black walls. "I retrieved what you requested. Don't overdo it, Ren. She's still a young lady."

"I'll do what I feel she can do." Kylo retorted as he snatched the black and red shovel. "Leave the teaching to me, Hux."

Hux wanted to say something further but a couple troopers past them and privacy was no longer present. Instead, he walked away. 'Well,' he thought. 'Maybe tonight I can finally put those expensive oils to good use.' The image that crossed his mind made him smile.

"Zaria!"

Your master's voice echoed across the vast snowy landscape. You looked up from the snow drift you had jumped into and glanced around until you saw the tall, hooded, black robed, man stomping his way towards you with something in his hand.

"Master!" you called back as you got up from the snow and brushed yourself off. Your garments were made of thick fabric so the snow didn't soak you when it melted.

You ran to his side, eager for that day's lesson. You looked up at him as you tried to keep up with his pace. "So what's the plan? Combat training? History lesson? Force practice? Oh! Meditation?"

"No, no, no, and no." he said. You cocked your head to the side when he paused just in front of the woods. "Then what, master?"

"Today we test your strength and resilience." he said, looking at you. With his mask on, you couldn't read any of his features and it made you nervous. Hell, the mask made everyone nervous. Which was probably the reason he wore the thing.

"And how-"

Your question was cut off when he handed you the shovel. "You will clear a path to the clearing within these woods."

"WHAT?!"

"You want to learn? This is how you learn. Now, get to work! I'll have General Hux check on you in three hours." With that he left you there, in the snow, with but a shovel and the strength you possessed.

When he was out of ear shot, you let out a string of curses in your native tongue.

"I'm not a blasted baby sitter!!"

Hux huffed in annoyance as he trudged through the snow, snarling in frustration when snow got in his boots.

However, his annoyance gave way to shock when he saw the broad path carved out in the snow, leading into the thick forest.

"Oh...no." his heart raced as he ran down the path searching for his lady. "Zaria! Zaria, where are you?!" he called your name over and over, his voice echoing off the trees. The sun had begun to set and snow was starting to fall again.

Hux stopped only a few times when he almost slipped on patches of ice, nearly sending him into the thick white powder.

Finally, the silence was filled with the faint sound of your labored pants and groans as you continued to work.

Hearing you, Hux ran a little ways more until he saw you, standing beside a large snow pile, which was beside a large circle of cleared space.

"Hux? That you?"

He turned to you, his breath coming out in white puffs as he caught his breath in the cold air. "You did all this????"

"Yeah, Kylo instructed me too." You said before a little squeak of a sneeze escaped you.

"Here, you must be freezing out here." Hux quickly shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. He then took the shovel and threw it into the snow. "You've done enough, my lady. Lets get you back and warm you up."

"But Kylo-"

"Will have to get through me. That brute has made you labor for long enough."

Hux then swept you off your tired feet and held you, cradling you like a small child. You buried your cold face in his warm chest, grateful that he saved you from your task, even though you had finished.

"Thanks..." you mumbled, exhausted.

Your ginger savior smiled at you as he carried you. "On one condition," he placed a kiss on your brow. "On the condition that you allow me to spoil you tonight. Perhaps those oils I purchased for you will do you some good?"

"Hux..."

"Yes?"

"If you get me back inside within the next 15 minutes, you can do what ever."

"Don't let Ren hear you say that."

"He's heard me say worse within those closed doors."

Your general chuckled and held you closer. "Indeed."

With that, you two feel into a comfortable silence as you fell asleep in his arms.

-end-

❄

[cosleia]

Hello hi, it's me, ms. 666. I have a ficlet request! How about cannoli(sh) kylux in the reality show Survivor?

Congratulations on winning a ficlet! :D Since I have never watched Survivor, I read a description of how the show works and poked around the Survivor Wiki a bit in order to write this. I've decided to go with the pre-Covid format of revealing the winner during the Reunion. Please forgive any inaccuracies.

I hope you enjoy!

kylux, 1045 words, modern au, survivor au

~

Armitage was not looking forward to the Survivor Reunion Show. He'd spent the last few months trying to forget the 26-day ordeal, and it was only the potential million-dollar win—and the guaranteed $10,000 attendance bonus—that had him taking a deep breath and walking onto the Los Angeles set now.

It should have been an easy win for him. Not only had he been taking care of his own basic needs since he was five years old, but every summer between the ages of 13 and 18, his father had abandoned him in the wilderness somewhere, telling him to find his way back to civilization on his own. There was no one on Earth better prepared to handle being left on an island with only the clothes on his back than Armitage Hux.

But Armitage had learned quickly that Survivor wasn't just about survival skills. It was also about manipulating other players into favoring you so you could avoid being voted off. This was not something Armitage had ever had occasion to learn, especially from Brendol Hux, who rather infamously had managed to make no alliances, at work or socially, in his entire life.

Unfortunately, one of the other contestants, who had made it all the way to the final two with Armitage, happened to be a natural manipulator. Kylo Ren had a way of ingratiating himself to people; if his wry wit didn't do it, all he generally had to do was take off his shirt or carry something heavy. He looked absolutely sinful eating a banana...or doing anything, really. And he knew it, and he used it to his advantage.

Not only had Armitage had to watch Kylo win immunity after immunity, but he'd had to pretend to like him, too, at least when talking with the other contestants. Because if they knew how much Armitage hated Kylo, they would have voted Armitage off long before the end. As it stood, Armitage had only made it as far as he had by going along with whatever the others were doing and occasionally sharing his survival knowledge with them. Kylo was almost guaranteed to be the final winner, and it was infuriating.

"Hey," a deep voice practically purred in his ear, thrumming so low Armitage's stomach flip-flopped. Big hands came up from behind to rest on Armitage's hips. "Long time no see."

"Not now, you cretin," Armitage hissed.

Kylo squeezed Armitage's hips, then let his hands slide away, thick fingers just grazing Armitage's outer thighs. "Later, then," he said, shoulder-checking Armitage as he made his way to the castaway seating.

"Fuck off," Armitage muttered at Kylo's unfairly broad back.

He'd been trying to forget that, too.

~

"The winner of Survivor is..."

Kylo Ren, Armitage thought resignedly.

"...Armitage Hux."

Armitage blinked. "What?"

"You're kidding," Kylo said.

"What?" Armitage said again.

"What the fuck," Kylo said.

~

The reunion show normally would have begun right after the announcement, during which the contestants would share what they'd been up to for the past few months and reminisce on things that had happened during the game.

Things went differently this time.

"This was obviously rigged," Kylo roared, leaping to his feet and sending his faux-stone bench flying. "I was the clear winner." He stormed to the urn, snatched it up and hurled it to the floor of the set, where it smashed into shards.

"You have no actual survival skills," Armitage yelled at him. "All you know how to do is trick people. I deserved to win."

He did deserve it. And he'd done it.

Kylo's head whipped up, his dark, angry eyes fixing on Armitage's face, and Armitage's heart skipped a beat. Then Kylo was barreling toward him, grabbing him by the shoulders, backing him up against the nearest fake palm tree.

"You think you're so perfect," Kylo snarled into Armitage's face.

"And you think you deserve whatever you want, just for existing," Armitage snapped back.

"I hate you," Kylo growled.

"I hate you."

"Now seems like the perfect time to show our first clip," host Jeff Probst broke in.

"And we're clear," called the producer. Behind her, the large flatscreen that showed what was currently on air flipped from the live feed to a recording. Armitage might not have noticed, except—

"Yeah," came the sound of his own voice. He sounded winded. "This is what you're made for, isn't it?"

Armitage's eyes widened. He almost didn't dare look at the monitor. When he did, he recognized the exterior of one of the huts back in Fiji.

The hut was shaking.

"They're doing it in there," one of the other contestants said in voiceover. "They've been doing it almost every night. They think we don't know."

"I would have voted against both of them way earlier, but I wanted to see what would happen. I mean, they kind of deserve each other, right?" said a different contestant's voice. "Assholes."

"And we're back in three, two," the producer called, miming the "1" and pointing to Jeff on zero.

"Looks like you two really made a love connection," Jeff said, giving Armitage and Kylo a sly grin. "When did this all start?"

"I refuse to indulge this—" Armitage began, but then Kylo said:

"The very first night. I knew he wanted me from the moment he saw me."

"You're the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself," Armitage retorted, because while he had his dignity, he could not let that stand. "Even today, right here—"

"I think we have a clip of that, too," Jeff said, and the flatscreen flipped to a recording of Armitage and Kylo standing at the edge of the set, Kylo's hands gripping Armitage's hips.

"Idiot," Armitage said, just as the live feed resumed.

"You're hot when you're pissed off," Kylo told him mockingly.

"You goddamn piece of shit," Armitage started to say, but he cut himself off this time, grabbing Kylo by the hair and thrusting his tongue into Kylo's mouth. Kylo pushed closer, and the fake tree behind Armitage collapsed, and Armitage and Kylo fell to the floor, mouths still locked together.

"Let's chat with the other castaways," Armitage thought he heard Jeff say. It didn't matter. Kylo was trying to subdue Armitage's tongue with his own, and Armitage wasn't about to let him.

~The End~

[voidcat-senket]

a!kylo a!poe o!hux - because you taunted me

you have the doc not that its any good I don't know all of it seems to be in Poe POV for some reason and he's just happy to be a matchmaker even though everyone's actually into him. IDK. Woobie!Hux, Jealous!Kylo and Poe Makes No Sense, that's what you wanted right? have a (sfw) snip you can already access:

“I’m honestly shocked at how dumb you are sometimes,” Poe grins, tussling his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. Ben casts a baleful look his way, his nose wrinkling the way it did when they were children, and tugs hard on the wrap around his forearm. Poe watches it blossom red, a concerned haze shrinking his vision down to Kylo’s wounded form, to the fractaline lightning scars spread across his upper back and his shoulder. “Are you here to insult me or make yourself useful,” Ben scoffs, pitching a bottle of antiseptic spray at Poe. Poe ducks to the side, grinning at Ben’s scowl when the bottle hits the wall behind him before plonking down onto the cot beside him. He picks it up, turning it in his hand to inspect the label. “I didn’t think you used this stuff,” he tells Ben, glancing at him through the hair that had immediately fallen back across his face. “I don’t,” Ben growled, tying the knot in his bandages up with one hand and generous help from the Force. Cheater. “Right, you just snatched it off the tray,” Poe chuckles, and ducks again when a pair of scissors follows the bottle. “So is your big rebellion over or what? The emperor’s dead.” “You’re the rebellion.” “The Resistance, you mean.” Ben shoots him a sour look, but Poe’s been immune to those for almost as long as Ben’s been making them. He smiles easily, tries again to flip his hair out of his face. Maybe he should borrow some of those clips off Rose. “So. You’re still alive but there’s nothing left for you to be the Supreme Leader of anymore. What are you going to do?” “How should I know?” Ben grumbled, as if his ship had broken down and not that the last decade of his life had just been shredded to nothing. Well. Not all of it. Poe just happened to know that a man who would’ve been at the front of the line for execution, had the First Order fallen a year ago, had now been removed entirely from it, and was at this moment embroiled in a meeting that Poe very much should’ve attended. \\\ A man that imagined a universe where everything could be regimented to pure, perfect efficiency, where transportation always ran on time and any deviancy was dismantled and disposed of, but not one where he had any intrinsic worth. A man who crushed himself over wanting there to be meaning in the bites his mate left behind in his weakest moment and locked away even the concept of yearning in his strongest. A man with a mind like a warehouse who could pluck out battle blueprints fully formed from six pieces of information and a single manifest. The first natural leader Poe had ever met that seemed genuinely baffled whenever anyone asked him for his expertise.

[starlitangels]

(Hopefully) An Enormous Amount of Guilt

So... I saw that title and that thumbnail and I knew it wasn’t gonna be angst because it’s Soft Boi Winter but I was vibing with some angst so... here we are. 1.6k words

CW: referenced argument between characters, actual heated verbal argument between characters

—

The fervent tattoo of a knock jolted me out of the half-asleep stupor I’d been in, almost bedded down for the night.

Gavin jolted beside me. “Warm aura. Fire Elemental,” he mumbled.

“What’s Damien doing here this late?” I whispered, throwing the covers off and snatching my robe from the hook on the wall.

“I’ll get it,” Gavin said.

“No, no. You go back to sleep. I got this,” I insisted.

Gavin plopped back down onto the bed, apparently needing no more convincing.

I wrapped my bathrobe around me and tied it tight. No need for Damien to see my obvious lack of pajamas. Rubbing my eyes, I slipped out of our room and down the hall to the front door.

A quick glance through the peephole revealed it was, in fact, Damien.

I slid the deadbolt and opened the door. “You usually call first,” I said around a yawn. I jerked my head backward. “Come in.” I opened the door wider and stepped back so Damien could come in. He stepped over the threshold. I shut the door behind him and indicated toward the couch in the living room, yawning again. Damien sat. I went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water for each of us. “So. What’s wrong?”

“What makes you assume anything’s wrong?” Damien retorted sharply.

I leveled a sharp glare at him through tired eyes. “Damien,” I said. “You turned up here, no warning, at one-AM. You’re the guy who goes to bed at eleven on the dot if you have to get up for school tomorrow. And you do have school tomorrow. So do I. So what’s up?”

Damien sighed through clenched teeth. “Huxley and I got in a fight.”

I froze where I’d been taking a sip of my water. I lowered the glass. “Come again?”

“Hux and I got in a fight.”

I groaned in complaint. “Only you would be able to figure out how to get in a fight with a guy like him,” I muttered. I rubbed my eyes with my free hand and set the glass on the coffee table. “What’d you fight about?”

Damien cleared his throat. “He took care of me on the solstice. I... I don’t need him to take care of me on the solstice. I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.”

“So you picked a fight with the most patient and caring person on the planet. Gotcha.”

“Freelancer—”

“No, Damien. No protesting. Shut up and listen.” I leaned forward, making sure my robe was still secure. “How long is it going to take to beat into your thick skull that people care about you and want to care for you just because they can, huh? It’s not just Huxley. It’s me, and it’s Gavin, and it’s Lasko. You’re our friend. Hell, you’re our family. We love you. 

“Gav and I kept an eye on Lasko during the solstice too. More so Gavin than me. My powers are always all over the place on the solstice so I’m not necessarily the most reliable caretaker. But the point stands. 

“Huxley loves you, you moron. And the people who love and care about you want to do what they can to show it. Especially Huxley. Acts of service and quality time are the man’s damn love languages. So pull your head out of your ass and get with the program on that. Because he’s never gonna stop for as long as you’re dating.

“And if you want to drive a wedge between the two of you by picking a fight about it every time, then I’m not going to be your relationship counselor when that all falls apart. Because it will be your own damn fault.

“Trust me, if I wasn’t already dating Gavin in some form at the time, I would have snatched Huxley up in a heartbeat. Do you know how rare hearts like his are? You are so damn lucky that he chose you.”

Damien growled and shoved his hands through his hair. “Look, I know, okay?!” he snapped. The temperature in the room shot up a few degrees. It had been steadily climbing through my lecture but this was a far more noticeable spike. “I know I messed up and I know I’m an idiot and I know it’s my fault. I already feel terrible for hurting him and you are not helping! But what more do you want from me?”

“Me?! I don’t want anything from you. Go apologize to your boyfriend, numbskull!”

“I... I don’t think he’s ready to talk to me.”

I blinked owlishly at Damien. “He... Huxley is your boyfriend! How do I know him better than you do?” I demanded. “He’s probably waiting for you to come home but trying to give you time to blow off some steam. Any second now—” I flicked my wrist. My phone zipped from the bedroom and into my hand. “—he’s probably going to call me and ask if I’ve seen you. Trying to make sure you’re okay.”

As if on cue, my phone started ringing. 

Incoming Call... Huxley🍃

I showed Damien my phone screen with an I told you so expression before answering the call. “Hey Hux, what’s up?”

“You sound a lot more awake than I expected,” Huxley remarked. “Have you heard from Damien at all in the past couple minutes?”

I yawned. “Mmhmm. Got quite an earful, actually. He’s right here on my couch.”

“Is... is he okay?”

Huxley absolutely would notice my hesitation before I answered, “In a manner of speaking.”

“W... what’s wrong with him?”

“Hopefully an enormous amount of guilt,” I replied matter-of-factly. Damien scoffed and rolled his eyes. I flipped him off. He returned the gesture. “Wanna talk to him?”

“Yeah. Of course. But... face-to-face. Tell him to come home? Please, Freelancer?”

“You got it, big guy,” I said.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, Hux.”

“I’ll let you go. Bye.”

“See ya this weekend,” I said around another yawn before disconnecting the call.

“What did he say?” Damien asked, sounding eager, reluctant, sad, and hopeful all at once. I snorted. Lovesick puppy if ever I’d seen one.

I cleared my throat and loosened the muscles in my vocal chords to do my best Huxley impression. “‘Tell him to come home, please, Freelancer?’” I quoted, mimicking his inflection pretty accurately too.

Damien sighed. “He really said that? You’re not just pulling strings to get me to apologize?” I narrowed my eyes in a sharp glare. Damien put his hands up. “Okay, okay. I believe you. If you say that’s what Huxley told you, then that’s what he told you. Yeesh, Freelancer.” He gave me a look that was bleeding attitude. “Do I need to apologize to you too?”

“Nah. You and me are good. You know that. Go home to Huxley, moron.”

Damien got up. I did too. I held out my arms. He sighed and gave me a hug. His skin was still hot but it was rapidly cooling. “I am sorry, Freelancer. You’re right about everything,” he said softly.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Damien. I know you. I know how you are. I knew how you’d react before I even started talking. I don’t take it personally. You’re doing better at keeping your temper in check, and I’m proud of you for that. And... well. Better for you to take your frustration out on me than on Huxley.”

“I shouldn’t take it out on either of you.”

“No. But we’re human. We can’t help it when we snap. I pushed so that you’d snap and dump it on me. Same way I did after the Inversion. You needed to release it, and I could take it.” I shrugged. “Now get outta here and go home to Huxley before you embarrass either of us by apologizing for something I invited.”

Damien gave me a look through his black bangs. They were getting long again. “You’re my best friend, you know that, right?”

“Besides Huxley, I hope?”

“Yeah but he’s in a different class of best friend.”

I snorted. “Fair enough.”

“But, seriously, you know that, don’t you? You’re a far better friend than I sometimes deserve.”

“Thanks. Now go home, Damien. Your boyfriend is waiting. And, coincidentally, mine is waiting for me.” I gestured vaguely toward the bedroom.

The temperature in the room spiked again as Damien looked away. “Sorry for taking you away from Gavin.”

I waved dismissively. “We’ll both live. This was important. Even if it did just amount to me telling you to pull your head out of your ass.”

He chuckled and gave me another hug, completely unprompted. “Goodnight, Freelancer. And thanks for setting me straight.”

I thought about making a joke about his word choice but decided against it. “Goodnight, Damien. I’ll see you this weekend too.”

“See you then.”

He ducked out the front door to the apartment. I locked it behind him and went back to bed. Gavin rolled over the second I shed my bathrobe and climbed back under the covers, wrapping his arm around me.

“How much of that did you hear?” I asked.

“Whole thing. But we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“That would be welcome. I just wanna get to sleep.”

“Sounds good.” He kissed the back of my neck and fell back to sleep quickly.

I followed faster than I thought I would.

—

Tag list: @thegoldenlittlerose @darlin-collins (this counts as hurt, right?) @zozo-01 (you’re not on my DAMN Fam tag list but I told you about this one so you’re getting tagged whether you like it or not)

[horatiosroom]

listen . so i’ve been a massive fan of your art since the beginning of the myspace au and i feel obligated to tell you that i finally went to galaxys edge and saw the boys !!

AAAAAAAAAA THAT’S AWESOME!!!! I hope you had fun! I LOVED it there. The Hux animatronic is so snatched, I wanted to take him home with me. And damn dude… now you got me thinking about the ronto wrap 🤤… I want to go back!

[nonhumanhottie]

Resistance season 2 rewatch

Ep 9 - The voxx vortex 5000

a Hutt!!

i love those giant fucked up monkey lizards

i love aces like freya getting more lines

i love this sleazt hutt lmao

doza and yeager... hand holding

Ep 10 - Kaz's curse

ever get so angry you curse someone

Kaz doesn't like that the curse is scaring Neeku awww

Mika earning some coin doing scam readings lmao

Ep 11 - Station to station

Rucklin pisses me off lmao

their little radar technician outfits lmao

eyyy its the general

okay but the way Hux rolls his eyes twice during his first line and sounds so cunty like delicious

also kudos to Kaz for having the strength not to just start wailing on the guy who blew up his home planet

Hux is also so snatched like slay

sir who the fuck are you talking to??

the disgust in Hux's voice when he greets Pyre oh my gOD

i love generic imperial speeches like yeah bestie you're gonna wipe out the resistance obviously but how??

Hux just glaring at the table in stress same babes

'Desperation can be a dangerous thing' yeah you'd know Mr I'm gonna become a resistance spy to spite my arch nemisis

12 - The missing agent

i love that yeager is back in action

This villain has predator energy lmao

Synara is such a bamf

the first order run the galaxy at this point, right? they destroyed the government and navy and stepped in. Why would they need to move things through the black market?

Yeager and Synara are honestly so cool lmao

[fridayincarnate]

Okay, SURELY someone else has asked about "sorry about the blood in your mouth" so if that's already getting answered, I would love to know about "snare"!

(ETA: yes, here's my answer for sorry about the blood in your mouth!)

OKAY, remember many months ago when I posted this Bad Things Happen Bingo card and asked for prompts? no? probably because I never answered any of them 😅

I SWEAR I didn't forget! I do intend to do them eventually, but alas, I've been lured away by the siren call of other WIPs for now. Here's a bit of my fill for the prompt "Caught in a Snare" -

“This is all your fault,” Hux snarls into a faceful of Ren’s sweaty, matted hair. He squirms against the coarse rope net suspending them above the undergrowth. Everything about this planet makes him claustrophobic, from the dank soil to the thick, cloying humidity. Now it has crammed him into a physical prison as well. One he must share with Ren. The trap snatched them both up so suddenly that they’re bound together in an uncomfortable and intimate tangle that is almost as impressive as the knots that secure the net. “Remind me, General, what your platinum rank commendation at the Academy was for?” Ren’s muffled voice vibrates through Hux’s chest where Ren’s face presses into it.   “This is not about my wilderness survival training!” Shame runs hot up Hux’s neck. He's spent the last ten minutes berating Ren for wandering away from the camp and reminding him how unprepared he is for this terrain without Hux’s level of training. It had not stopped them from getting snapped up by this trap in a moment of distracted arguing. At least Ren can’t see him blushing. “You are hardly one to talk when your Force fails to warn you of such a rudimentary trap.” “The Force doesn’t work that way. And I don’t take orders from you, General.” Ren shifts, trying to wriggle his arm free.

(from this WIP folder ask game)

[vedavan]

Take Me Back Down (where cool water flows)

A 1970's Reylo rock star AU

1/1, 4.7k words

18+, NSFW, explicit sexual content. Mildly dubious consent, somnophilia.

Read on AO3 here

Summary:The year is 1976.

It's the era of Free Love, and of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. And Ben Solo is at the top of his career, as the lead singer of "House of Ren".

And then he meets Rey: but is she a groupie? His number one fan?

Or will she be his salvation?

*****By clicking "Keep Reading" you are 18+ and agree to the tags listed above *****

Green Bay, Wisconsin

June 18th, 1976

"Fuck,” Ben mutters, watching the hotel key slip from his fingers and land on the mud-brown carpeting. He bends to pick it up and finally manages to wedge it into the lock, and swings the door open.

He blinks as his eyes adjust to the low, ambient lighting. It’s not the fanciest suite he’s ever had, but it’s better than he was expecting– spacious, with darkly paneled walls and a large window, covered by heavy gold fabric drapes. Rust-colored shag carpet with a dark brown upholstered couch and easy chair. A twenty-inch TV sits on a dark wood console in the corner, and a large painting of a fruit bowl in muted earth tones hangs on the wall. The room smells clean, like lemon, with only a trace of stale cigarette smoke lingering in the air. 

It’s hotter than hell– he must have sweat a bucketful during the show tonight. Who knew Wisconsin in June could be so unbearably hot and humid? He walks over to the air conditioner installed into the wall and cranks it up to full blast, sighing with relief as frigid air immediately starts chugging out of the unit.

There’s an open doorway on the far wall that he knows leads to the bedroom and bathroom. He hopes when Hux booked the room he remembered to request a king bed.

Just the mere thought of his business manager makes Ben’s head start to pound. He flops heavily onto the sofa, stretching out his long frame and closes his eyes. They’re burning with fatigue, and he cracks them open just for a second to glance at the clock hanging on the wall. Three twenty-two. AM. Fuck. He knows he needs to go to bed, snatch at least a few hours of sleep before they head to the airport and fly out to the next leg of the tour. Ohio, he’s pretty certain. But after twelve weeks of non-stop touring, it’s getting harder to keep track of where they’ve been, and where they’re headed.  

Where he’s headed, he muses. That’s the twenty-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it. The entire reason he’s still awake at three in the morning, when he should have been in bed hours ago. After the concert ended at ten thirty, instead of his post-show routine of a scalding hot shower and three fingers of Wild Turkey, Hux had insisted that he and the rest of the guys have a meeting to discuss the future of the band.  

House of Ren needs to move in a new direction, Hux had said, and the rest of his bandmates agreed. Ben is the lone holdout. And as the lead singer and songwriter, it’s fucking impossible not to be offended. He’s the creative force behind the music. His own brand of rock, influenced by his Southern roots, originates from his very soul. He’s spent the last six years pouring his lifeblood into the band, into the music, catapulting them to fame. They’ve been on Johnny Carson and The Midnight Special a handful of times and have been featured on the cover of Rolling Stone twice. Three gold albums and a dozen of top-ten singles on the Billboard charts under their belts. But suddenly they need to move in a new direction.

We need to move into the future, Ben. The next decade, Hux had insisted. Evolve into something new, something he called arena rock. Like the mega rock band KISS, assigning each of them a distinct identity, with costumes and heavy makeup, making them appear larger than life. Adding sound effects and synthesizers to the music, writing rock anthems instead of ballads. 

That’s what the kids want, Ben. Flash and spectacle. No more of this earthy, peace and love sentimental drivel.

The criticism still burns, and Ben tamps down a wave of anger. His music was good enough until now, making them a shit-ton of money and garnering them a level of fame beyond their wildest dreams. Hux has a mansion in LA and a garage full of sports cars because of his sentimental drivel.

Ben covers his face with his hands and sighs. He has to make a decision before the end of the tour. Either continue with the new House of Ren, where he’ll be forced to wear greasepaint and spandex and be re-named something undoubtedly ridiculous like Kylo – or quit. Hux has made it clear that the band will go on in their new incarnation, with or without him. Ben doesn’t own the rights to the name House of Ren, which is fine with him– Hux had renamed them years ago when he discovered them, playing small gigs in their hometown of Greenville, Kentucky. Back when they were known as Butterfly.

What the fuck kind of name is Butterfly? he remembers Hux sneering. Ben can smile at the memory now. It was 1969, and he and the guys had formed the band during college, as an outlet for the wildfire of emotions they were all feeling, the younger generation, triggered by the unending violence and social injustice. They were part of the counterculture, anti-establishment. Protests and rallies were the norm. Anything goes was the prevailing attitude on campus toward sex and sexuality, and Ben fully embraced it: eschewing traditional masculine traits by growing out his hair and wearing leather pants, faux fur vests and beaded necklaces. Emulating his musical idols like Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison. 

Besides, he’s secure enough to admit, he's always liked butterflies. Blue ones, especially.

He’s twenty-nine now, and while he’s swapped the fur vests and leather pants for mostly plain t-shirts and faded jeans, he’s retained his long hair and rebellious nature.

He’s not going to go along with something that doesn’t feel right, and House of Ren no longer feels like the place for him. Not where Hux wants to take them, anyway.

So what else is there? He has plenty of money. He supposes he could just do nothing for a while, until he figures out his next move. He’s always liked New York. The fast-paced energy, the city that never sleeps. When he starts feeling low, a few days spent in New York usually does the trick, providing enough distraction to almost convince him he’s not totally alone in the world. 

His folks are still in Kentucky, living out their golden years in a sprawling, renovated farmhouse he bought them several years ago, so he has to admit he’s not totally alone. But he's only ever had two relationships in his whole life that lasted more than three months, which is causing him to worry it might be indicative of some fatal personality flaw on his part. It’s something he finds himself dwelling on more and more lately. Thinking about the one, that one special person who will turn his life upside down. That one woman he’ll scorch the earth for, be willing to risk it all just to be with her.

His mother is that woman to his dad. Ben had asked him once, when he was about thirteen, how he knew mom was the one. His dad had smiled, and ruffled his hair with one of his huge, calloused hands.

"The moment I looked into those big, brown eyes I knew I was a goner. I know it sounds crazy, but I knew right then I never wanted to be with anyone else. And even after all these years, and even though we sometimes fight like cats and dogs, at the end of the day there isn’t anyone else I’d rather come home to.

All I can tell you, son, is that when you meet her, you’ll know.”

Ben scrubs his hands down his face, and glances up at the clock again. Three forty. Shit. He really needs to get some sleep. This couch isn’t doing his back any favors, so he gets up and heads to the bedroom. He decides to skip the shower until later and just crash for now.

He flicks on a switch and a table lamp next to the bed illuminates the room in a soft, warm glow.

What the fuck.

There’s a woman on his bed.

An almost naked woman, fast asleep, her chest rising and falling with each slow, steady breath.

His eyes quickly scan the room. Was he given the wrong key by mistake?  

But no, he sees his luggage on the floor, placed next to the closet. And a bottle of Wild Turkey as well as a gift basket with local offerings, as is usually customary whenever he and the band check into a hotel. 

He approaches the bed slowly, not sure if she’s just pretending to be asleep and is going to pull a knife or a gun on him at the last second.

It’s never happened before, but he supposes there’s a first time for everything.

He gets right up next to the bed, on high alert, his eyes sweeping over her.

She’s beautiful, he realizes immediately. She’s lying on her back, her long, straight chestnut hair spread out on the burnt orange coverlet underneath her. Thick black lashes flutter against the tops of her cheekbones, her eyelids twitching as if she’s dreaming. A light smattering of freckles dusts her dainty nose, and a soft sigh escapes her full, pale pink lips. 

Her body is long and slender, all smooth, tanned skin and toned limbs. Ben notices the supple bend of her knees, the way her toes brush the floor at the end of the bed, as if she had been sitting there and grew tired of waiting and decided to lie back and rest at some point. 

She’s removed all her clothes, with the exception of a pair of tiny pale yellow bikini briefs and a matching lace bra. The bra is sheer and unlined, making it impossible for him not to notice the outline of her dusky nipples, and his dick twitches in his jeans.

Most people would be shocked to find a half-naked stranger on their bed, but Ben isn't. Fans and groupies have tried breaking into his hotel rooms before, or backstage, or onto tour buses, but security never fails to catch them first. He always shakes his head at hearing their disappointed wails as they’re dragged away, or sometimes their cries of Fuck me, Ben!… but never has one been so stealth and so brazen as to not only successfully break in, but then decide to take off her clothes on top of it and wait for him.

He scans the room again and doesn’t see any evidence of a broken window; she must have schemed her way in somehow and entered right through the hotel room door. He begrudgingly admires her tenacity at pulling it off.

But more than anything he wonders why she did it, as his gaze sweeps over her again. She doesn’t have the look of a starfucker, or even a groupie. She’s got a natural, almost wholesome look about her– he’s met enough fans across the country to know she’s a local, definitely a small-town girl. Probably lives right here in Green Bay, or some other nearby town. He’d hazard to guess she’s never even left Wisconsin; has probably never known anything but cornfields and green grass and lazy rivers, where the summers are blazing hot, and winters are so frigid the air in your lungs freezes the second you step outside and take your first breath.

They’d played a show in Milwaukee in February a few years back– he knows exactly how miserable it is.

Ben thinks her life is probably similar to the simple, country life he’d have if he’d never left Kentucky, if he’d never become famous, and his chest pangs with a strange feeling of kinship.  

So, the question of why she’s gone to all this trouble still remains.

He suddenly notices the acoustic guitar leaned up against the far side of the bed. He makes his way over and sees its old, a little beat up but still in good shape– it’s obviously been well loved and cared for. He also finds a composition notebook on the bedside table next to it, and a colorful beaded handbag. Picking up the notebook he quickly flips through it, finding pages and pages of poetry– or maybe song lyrics? – with doodles in the margins. He rifles through the handbag, his conscience twinging with only a fleeting second of guilt– would be pretty hard for her to complain about invading her privacy when she was the one who broke into his hotel room– and finds a small brown leather wallet with a driver’s license.

Rey Janssen

DOB 1/20/1956

He exhales a sigh of relief. She’s not underage. Although he asks himself in the same moment why he’s even concerned about that– it’s not like anything is going to happen. He’s not even going to consider having a one-night stand with a local, no matter how beautiful and intriguing she might be.

And she is quite beautiful, he concedes as he puts the bag down and moves back over to the end of the bed. 

While she sleeps on, he scratches his goatee, pondering why she felt the need to remove her clothes. She didn’t have to go that far; she could have easily seduced him wearing a ski suit. Or did she think she had to do that in order to convince him to listen to her, to let her play him a few songs? He frowns at the idea of this girl– Rey – thinking he’s the type of man who would only be moved to give her a chance if she offered up her body first. He knows rock stars are stereotyped as being promiscuous, and maybe a bit decadent, but he’d never use sex as a bargaining chip. 

Ben decides he needs to wake her up and end this farce now.

But just as he begins to lean down, she begins to stir. He notices her breathing starts to quicken, and her back arches up off the bed. She tips her head back, exposing the long column of her throat. Her eyes are still closed, but they’re fluttering wildly– she must be in the throes of some kind of nightmare. He’s just about to shake her shoulder to wake her when her mouth opens, and she lets out a soft cry.

"Ben,” she gasps.

That’s when he notices her hips are lifting off the mattress in a slow rhythm, her hands clawing tightly at the coverlet.

She’s not having a nightmare.

She’s having a sex dream.

About him, apparently.

The realization makes his head spin, and blood rush to his cock.

He watches her in fascination, her gorgeous features contorting in pleasure. It’s too much for him to resist. Hovering over her, he hooks his thumb in her mouth, and her lips immediately close around it. The inside of her mouth is plush and wet, and she begins sucking him insistently.

Fuck.

He sits back and rakes his hands through his hair, groaning in frustration. This girl is too tempting, too beautiful, and it’s ripping his self-control to shreds. He wants nothing more than to help her out, but how unethical is it to do that when she’s unaware of what’s going on? Even if she did seem to come here with those very intentions.

Her chest is still heaving, her skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat, and she continues writhing on the bed beneath him. 

"Ben,” she groans again, louder.

That does it. Apparently, he’s not as morally upright as he thought he was, because he stands up and immediately begins stripping off his clothes, down to his briefs.

She’s still asleep when he curls over her on the bed, pulling her up gently so her head rests near the pillows. So small, so oblivious to his huge, looming presence over her. It feels almost voyeuristic, and some deep, dark, primitive corner of his mind is howling at the forbidden nature of it all. Her hips are still moving and he reaches down, his hand trembling, and drags his fingers along her center, over her underwear.

She’s fucking drenched.

Her mouth opens again, and she lets out a breathy cry, her delicate brows knit together, a look of ecstasy sweeping over her features. She’s either already coming, or on the very edge of it.

Jesus. He can’t fucking stand it any longer.

Ben pulls the scrap of fabric down from her hips and off her body, flinging it aside. He reaches down again and runs his fingers through her slit, through her wet heat. His thumb finds her clit and he circles it, feeling it pulse under his ministrations, as his fingers curl into a loose fist, one thick knuckle nudging at her entrance.

His heart pounds and his cock throbs heavily as he drops his head down, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and throat. She moans again and he lifts his head to watch her face, and finds her eyes are open, blinking at him in confusion.

His pulse spikes even higher as a wave of panic washes over him, and he pulls his hand away.

"Is this ok?” he murmurs softly.

Rey’s eyes scan over his face, recognition flickering in the hazel irises. He's immediately entranced by them, the most incredible eyes he’s ever seen, a heady mix of greens and browns with golden flecks– it reminds him of looking up in a forest at midday, when the sun is shining down through the canopy of leaves. 

"Yes,” she nods quickly. “Fuck, yes, Ben.”

He smiles, liking her filthy mouth. Liking the way his name sounds on her lips. Likes this resourceful, determined, beautiful girl a lot, without quite understanding why.

Moving down her body, he hovers over her center. He looks up to make sure she’s watching, and she is, propped up on her elbows, her eyes heavy-lidded and filled with wonder. He leans down and opens his mouth over her, dragging his broad tongue slowly through her cunt, licking a stripe from her entrance to her swollen, pulsing clit. Her head drops back and she moans, making his already stiff cock throb with aching desire against his stomach. He resolves right then to make her come, again and again, as many times as he can, wanting to wrench those pretty sobs from her throat, and make her body tremble and squirm beneath him. 

He’s not sure why he’s so fixated, what it is about this girl that’s making him feel this way, so possessive– but as he draws her clit into his mouth and sucks, she makes the most exquisite, erotic sound he’s ever heard, and his mind whites out, no longer capable of reasonable thought.

She tastes like saltwater and sunshine, and he relishes the task set before him. He wants to make this good for her, make this an experience she’ll never forget.

So she'll never forget him.

The thought makes him inexplicably sad, so he shoves it from his mind, and doubles down on his efforts.

He’s barely got two fingers pushed inside her when he already feels her beginning to come apart, her walls fluttering and tightening around him, her clit pulsating on his tongue. Her thighs bracket his head, and her hands desperately pull at his hair as she grinds her pussy against his mouth.

"Oh my god Ben, yes,” she whines, her voice high and reedy. He keeps up the momentum, keeps curling and sliding his fingers inside her hot, slippery channel even when her clenching muscles make it almost impossible. He's hellbent on wringing out every last bit of pleasure he can from this sweet little cunt, and continues sucking at her hard little pearl until delectable juices dribble down his chin.

He only stops when she furiously tugs at his hair, sobbing and begging, “Please, it’s too much, I can’t take anymore.”

He surges up over her, stopping to mouth at her breasts before kissing her deeply. He wants her to taste herself, to know how fucking good she tastes, to realize how much she’s affecting him. His tongue plunders and ravages her mouth with the same fervor he lavished upon her pussy, and she gives as good as she gets, matching him eagerly, stroke for stroke, and something primitive rumbles low and deep in his chest.

She keeps running her fingers through his hair; she seems to be fascinated by it, twisting and tugging at it while scratching her nails lightly against his scalp, which is more than fine with him. It feels good, and as long as it makes her happy, that’s all that matters to him.

But she shocks the hell out of him when she suddenly grabs his shoulders and pushes him over to the side, on to his back, with an alarming amount of strength. He never would have guessed her to be that strong, but as she smirks down at him triumphantly, Ben realizes he should probably keep expecting this girl, as wild and unpredictable as a summer storm, to be full of surprises.

After tugging his underwear off she straddles him, and he’s graced with an unparalleled view of her body: of her long, lithe torso and the stunning oval of her face. Her skin is flushed, her long silky hair mussed with sweat-damp tendrils curling around her face, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. She tosses it behind her with an unconscious shake of her head, and reaches behind her back to release her bra, pulling it off and tossing it carelessly across the room. Her breasts are small, but perfect– he imagines sucking those pretty pink nipples, making them shine with his saliva, and his mouth waters while his cock swells to a punishing degree.

Her eyes are luminous as she gazes down at him, full of heat and desire and something, and a mysterious warmth curls in his gut. Ben wonders idly if she’s bewitched him, cast a spell over him, and realizes in the same instant he wouldn’t give a flying fuck if she had.

She’s ruining him, maybe forever, and he couldn't care less.  

But then she slides back, running her dripping hot seam over his dick which now presses painfully hard against his stomach, almost reaching his navel, and he thinks he might explode on the spot.

She braces one small hand on his ribcage and lifts up, the other guiding his throbbing length to notch the fat, leaking tip at her entrance, sheathing herself over him ever so slowly.

Ben watches in fascination, watches as his cock disappears into her glistening wet heat and groans, his head dropping back against the pillows.

She’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect, he can hardly see straight.

Once she’s taken him all in, she gives an experimental roll of her hips, adjusting herself to his girth, finding an angle that feels good. He grits his teeth, resisting the impulse to start rutting up into her and instead settles for stroking his hands up and down her smooth thighs, allowing her to be the one to begin setting the pace. 

She sits upright and starts rocking on him slowly at first, just getting used to the stretch, making room for him inside her tight, warm cunt. It's the most delicious form of torture, and his breathing becomes more rapid and shallow, each swirl of her body more sublime than the last. He's wholly captivated, unable to tear his eyes from her face, as he watches her expression change from a frown of concentration to a look of wide-eyed wonder.

But then she leans forward over him, her palms pressing on his chest before she reaches for the headboard and begins riding him– faster, more confidently, and his heart thunders in his chest. Fuck. His cock pulses as the waves of pleasure intensify, balls tightening as she rides him, her soft thighs gripping him like a vise.

Ben can’t hold back any longer; he's too worked up and can’t stop from chasing the orgasm he already feels starting to build, coiling at the base of his spine, so he grabs her hips roughly and begins pulling her faster, harder against him. He bends his knees for better leverage, lifting his hips and starts thrusting upward, their bodies slapping together in a carnal symphony of skin against skin.

After only a dozen or so of hard, rapid thrusts her walls begin to clench around him, and she's so fucking tight, the room filling with the sound of her short, breathy cries... so he moves her hips even faster, thrusts up into her even deeper.

"That's it, that's my gorgeous girl," he rasps, because she's right there and he needs to feel it, needs to know the peak of her pleasure begins and ends with him, "come all over my cock."

His fingers dig deeper into her hips and she nods limply, clutching his wrists, her eyes fluttering shut. “Oh god, keep fucking me Ben, just like that, please,” she babbles, along with a stream of high-pitched moans and obscenities. Above her bouncing tits her lovely face is screwed up tightly, her mouth hanging open, when suddenly her skin blooms pink as a rose, her walls fluttering and pulsing all around him, sucking him deeper inside.

She comes like a fucking dream is the sole thought running feverishly through his mind, and even though it damn near kills him not to let go, he resists; determined to draw this out, needing to stay buried in her lush folds as long as he can, forever if possible.

Finally, Rey sighs blissfully, looking down at him with glassy, unfocused eyes. His thrusts are becoming more stuttered and desperate, and Ben knows he can't stave off his climax for much longer.

"I’m on the pill, you can come inside me,” she breathes, and her low husky voice telling him he can come is what seals his fate.

He closes his eyes and hears a guttural, primal moan, only realizing a few seconds later it came from him. He empties into her, filling her up with his hot juices spurting once, twice, three times.

The release is mind-blowing, better than any substance he's ever tried, and he loses track of how long he lies there, just drifting in calm, sated bliss. 

The delicate touch of a cool hand smoothing across his sweaty brow brings him back to the present, and he blinks open his eyes. Rey is still there, kneeling on the bed naked next to him, pushing his damp hair back from his face and looking down at him tenderly, her eyes shining with reverence and awe.

She averts her gaze and bites her plump lower lip somewhat shyly, which he finds both incredibly charming and absurd, considering he was just inside her not more than a few minutes ago.

But then she looks at him again, those extraordinary hazel eyes finding his, and suddenly Ben knows, with a bone-deep flash of clarity, that this is it– his future is Rey, no doubt about it. As much as he hates to admit it, his dad was right. He knows it like he knows his times tables, like he knows how to play chords on his guitar, like he knows he loves strawberries. It’s as if there's something that’s been lying dormant inside him since the day he was born, just waiting for this moment to be unlocked.

He reaches up with one hand and cups her face tenderly, and she leans her cheek into his palm, wrapping both hands around his forearm, and smiles. Her grin is like the sunrise, blinding and miraculous.

"Nice to meet you, Ben. I’m Rey.”

Ben grins back, moving his hand behind her neck and pulling her back down to him, so her cheek rests against his heart, her long hair spilling across his chest, and she giggles softly.

They’ve already been dating for almost five months, and yet Rey never fails to keep him on his toes. This roleplaying stuff began as entirely her idea, but he's the one who can't get enough of it.

"You’re getting much too good at this, sweetheart,” he murmurs lowly as he strokes her hair. “Mind telling me how you were able to get in this time?”

Rey lifts her head and gives him her wide, Cheshire-cat grin he knows so well, the one that sends his pulse racing and his heart stuttering in his chest.

"Babe, you know I’ll never tell.”

*****