#rebel scum resist

[vamprisms]

sith lords would call themselves dark empaths on tiktok

[mercenaryg]

They say 'Do Not Resist' when that's all you're going to do.

[thesassypadawan]

Scum (Burnt Darth Vader x FemRebelReader)

Summary: Scum, the name he has so kindly given you upon capture.  The name he calls you every night as he does to you as he pleases.  Perhaps hoping to break you for information, perhaps for his own sick pleasure…maybe even your own.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.  Choking, up against the wall, misuse of the force…and Vader’s big, scarred dick. 

Notes: Happy Sithtember all you, lovelies! ❤️🖤

🎉❤️A VERY HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO @anakinsbbgirl❤️🎉

- Twisting against the invisible force that binds your hands, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.  Hint of metallic spreading across your tastebuds, swallowed down along with your moans. Refusing to give him the satisfaction even as he thrusts up into you.  As your sore cunt flutters desperately around his scarred length, unwillingly taking another load.

- “Have you come to a decision yet?”  His words were cold, even; rattling out through his modular.  Amber lenses staring emotionlessly into your eyes; almost searching for something, somehow.  While he continues to  buck; pushing his cum deeper, further.  “No…it would seem that you are still foolish enough to resist.”

- Abruptly he pulls out, the grip around your wrists loosens.  “Pathetic.”  And you drop to the floor, wincing from the pain that radiates through your knees…the feeling of his seed trickling out from between your spread legs.  “Truly such a pathetic thing.”

- Anger bubbles up inside of you, hand curls in a fist.  Pounding it against the stone, you unsteadily rise to your feet.  “Shut…your mec-mechanical mouth!”  Legs wobbling, breaths coming out in small huffs.  You try to hold your own, show what little strength remains; even with your shoulder pressed to the wall for support.  “I’m not the one hi-hiding behind a mask…you mon-monster!”

- The air seems to come alive, crackle.  Tension and raw anger filling the chamber, accompanied by the sound of his dark laughter.  “Is that what you think of me, rebel scum?  That I am nothing more than some sick creature.”

- Opening your mouth to speak again; instead your words are silenced, replaced with a gasp.  “Very well then.”  When pressure closes in around your neck; forcing you back, pinning you against the wall.  Jagged rocks piercing, cutting into your exposed skin.  “If that is the case…”

- Invisible hold grows tighter, and you rise up off the floor once more.  Feet scrambling for purchase, nails scratching at nothing in a futile attempt for release.  Vision growing blotchy, lids heavy; head beginning to spin.  “…then I shall show you what a real monster I am.”

- Faintly you’re aware of soft hisses, gears whirling.  Something clattering loudly to the ground; followed by a foreign, gruff voice ordering.  “Look.  Look upon the face of your monster.”

- Gaze refocuses, irises widen slightly.  A sense of fear, mixed with arousal washes over you.  “You’re…”  Before you was the most mangled, most twisted, most…handsome man you’ve ever seen.  “You’re…”

- A gentle prodding at the corner of your mind, pressure on your neck eases.  “Not what you anticipated.”  Feet touch the floor once more, as you stare deeply into those golden orbs.  “Interesting… very interesting.”

- Gloved fingers traces your jawline, thumb tugs at your lip.  Texture sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, causing your gummy walls to flutter.  “Perhaps you can be swayed…”

- Gripping your thigh, he hooks your leg onto his hip; forcing you to teeter on the tip of your toes.  Rigged head pressing, prodding at your swollen folds; phantom presence brushing, circling your overstimulated clit.  Whimper flying from your throat.  “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet…”

- Surging forward, sheathing himself into your spent pussy.  You wriggle and writhe; shudder from the deliciously painful, searing stretch.  A stretch that you find yourself coming to love?  “No…you’re never going to succeed!”

- Pace speeds up on your sensitive nub; hips begin to rock, setting a harsh rhythm.  “Do not act so certain.”  Making your back arch, chest dig into his control box.  Desperate?  Desperate, needy mewl escaping you.  “After all…”

- Labored breaths fan across your face, pale lips hover inches away from yours.  Eyes bore, lock onto yours.  “You could have easily stopped me with your own abilities and yet you have not.”

- Drives grow brutal, tears flow freely down your cheeks.  “Either you are weak or…”  Heat pools in your stomach, hands clench his tabards.  “…some part of you has wanted this the whole time.  For me to use, abuse…break and make you my own.”

- No longer twisting against the invisible force, no longer refusing to give him the satisfaction…  You succumb to your buried desires, finally declaring…  “I-I do!  Make me yours, V-Vader!”

- Tipping your head, you moan out as the phantom presence pinches your clit firmly.  As he slams upwards, popping something deep inside.  Pumping, filling your packed womb once more.  “There, was that so difficult…hatari?”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @loverforoldermen, @anakinsbbgirl, @t03soup, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @avescorner-blog, @vaderswifey, @jediavengers

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

The Moon's Lies

Summary: Kylo Ren x named!Reader. It was never going to be black or white, Light or Dark, friend or foe. Who wouldn't let the galaxy burn to keep their loved ones safe?

Warnings: 18+, Murder/"execution," graphic violence, unspoken threat of bodily harm, twisted morals, Kylo Ren being himself

Masterlist

Canon Divergence Notes: There is no Rey. Finn is the destined Jedi, and he leaves the scar on Ren’s face during the climactic fight on Starkiller Base. The only original canon kept after TFA is the destined Jedi (Finn) leaving to find Luke and Snoke pushing Kylo Ren to the breaking point, continuing the student-kills-the-master cycle. Summary: No Rey. Finn is training to be a Jedi. Kylo Ren takes the throne from Snoke.

This chapter is the only pre-TFA part of the story. Everything after that is in the AU as described.

A/N: Holy shit, I'm having so much fun with this. You all have no idea (but you will soon). Out here crafting whole-ass mythologies and cultures for this shit. Literally forgot to post this first chapter because I'm neck-deep in the next. Please, please, please do comment! I post for interactions with friends new and old. Otherwise I'd hoard all my embarrassing stories like the grouchy old dragon I really am.

1.

He needed to maul something.

His lightsaber practically vibrated on his belt, answering the pull of itching hands as Kylo Ren stormed into the planet-side depot. Civilians scattered from their orderly lines in front of the First Order’s regional bureaucratic office, startled like so many kaadus. The system had so little to offer, the Order couldn’t even justify a separate complex for the port authority and notary.

A shabby little base on a barren little world. If he could, he’d sink his saber to the planet’s core and kill it all in one, fell stroke.

What a waste of his time.

The rebel insurgent had nothing. They hunted him to the edge of the First Order’s territory only to discover a dead end whose handful of contacts met the heat of Kylo’s blade long ago. They’d missed something. He’d missed something. Instead of fresh leads into the Resistance’s plans, he would leave empty handed. This detour took weeks, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that their enemies were planning something. But in the end, the only thing the dead Rodian had been good at was hiding. Any trooper could’ve shot the scum and been done with it. No need for the Knights of Ren.

He looked like a fool.

Rage tipped over the edge of reason, flooding logic, and plans, and anything but the dark urge to destroy.

He marched through the door, well ahead of his knights. The stormtroopers were nearly as eager to avoid his wrath as the civilians, and he burst into an empty hall. The faintest conversation reached him, a hum of living Force further inside. He followed it. Down the hall. Around the corner. Gathering fuel to further spark his hate for this place and all the people in it as he approached.

A crisp, core world accent he had no doubt belonged to an officer carried farthest.

“I’m afraid it just won’t do. If you want clearance to leave for Gan Moradir, I’ll need those credits in my hand. Today.”

“You already have them.”

The second voice almost surprised Ren. He could barely feel the speaker’s signature, and he rested his hand on his saber, ready for a battle. No one unskilled in the Force could veil themselves like that.

From the sound of things, he had two valid targets to suffer for his humiliation. With new focus, he prepared to take the last corner, the heat in his blood ready to burn through the traitors and fools ahead.

Just out of sight, the officer tsked. “Not enough, I’m afraid.”

“Do you plan on demanding more every time we visit your system?”

“I could.”

“I’m afraid that will be very bad for trade.”

Ren saw the pair before they saw him. A First Order corporal with his hands clasped behind his back and a sneer on his face stood opposite a civilian girl, both oblivious to their approaching doom.

“Corporal.”

The man practically jumped out of his uniform, eyes bugging wide. The girl barely even flinched, following the officer’s panicked gaze with guarded curiosity. Ren would deal with her after he thinned the ranks. It was important to cut out rot before it spread, after all.

“Lord Ren!” The officer’s voice wavered, nearly breaking like a teenager’s as he took two steps away from the civilian and bowed to his superior. “My apologies. We’d heard your knights may be in the system, but we had no idea you’d actually –”

“What is the First Order’s standing on bribery?” He asked like he didn’t know simply so the criminal would recite his own conviction. Let him know how he’d failed. Let the fear string out his last moment.

The corporal’s mind couldn’t keep pace with his spiking adrenaline. He shifted, eyes darting for an escape, an excuse, as he tried to drag an explanation through his dry mouth.

“Well, I…”

Ren had no mercy. And no patience. His hand clenched over his blade’s hilt, and he imagined he could already feel the subtle vibration as it came to life to end another’s.

“Well?”

The corporal swallowed, and Ren watched the confidence roll away down the man’s throat.

“Soliciting or accepting bribes in any form, be it credits or goods, is a class three offense, sir.” He spoke clearly. Responding to a clear order with clear rules he would’ve learned by rote in training. He knew the consequences for disguising this theft behind the First Order’s banner, and now Ren would reveal a new part of the corporal. Blood. Bone. The messy things he wrapped out of sight beneath his skin.

Ren hummed. A mockery of consideration as he swayed nearer, forcing the smaller man to stare up at a painful angle. Decapitation was too neat for such a selfish little traitor. Maybe he’d sheer away half the man’s chest. Or leave him in a dozen pieces for his command to discover.

“I see.” He stalked forward another step, savoring the building dread like a cool wind beneath his mask. “And what is the punishment for class three offenses?”

The officer’s lingering hopes to put off his superior with a lie – Blame the girl, his mind screamed – finally crumbled. The dread Force-wielder had caught him. He knew enough to damn him. He’d been judged. He’d been sentenced. Only one step remained. Kylo Ren loomed, a Loth cat playing with vermin caught raiding the larder, and his uniform was an invitation to deal justice, not the shield the corporal once believed. He backpedaled, nearly foaming at the mouth as he spluttered a final plea for mercy.

“Lord Ren, please! I merely –!”

Red light and a crackling hum cut him off.

Ren speared the traitor through the belly, letting the fool totter backwards, wheezing for a breath that would never come. The corrupt officer groped over his exposed diaphragm as he tumbled to the floor, and his head met the polished floor with a crack as he continued pointlessly gasping.

It wouldn’t be a quick death.

Satisfied, Ren looked at the second actor in this little scene. She’d barely flinched when he struck down the corporal, but her attention remained fixed on the dying criminal. Ren waited for the inevitable wave of panic, ready to toy with a fresh target, but the life ending at her feet held her gaze. Something about her blunted his senses, and he struggled to pry into her mind beyond what she projected: caution and studied calm.

Maybe it was shock. Or maybe she needed reminding of her own mortality.

Ren cut off the corporal’s death rattle with a stroke of his saber, and as the head rolled across the hall, the girl finally looked up to meet his gaze. He glowered back through his visor, itching for her reaction.

She bowed. Maintaining the poise of a diplomat who hadn’t just witnessed a brutal execution, she dipped at the knees, dropping her eyes in polite deference before rising to meet him all over again. Still as a lake.

His lightsaber hissed, twisting in his grip. He pointed it under her chin, demanding she answer every question he hadn’t asked.

“You.” He didn’t bother with the show he’d put on for the corporal. Her careful placidity irritated him, and it felt like her very presence muted his senses when he hunted for her fear.

He looked again, noting the grey stone pendant and loops of beads she wore. A memory teased the edge of his lingering rage, dragging his focus away from his quest for bloodshed. He’d seen that material before. He recognized the numbing sensation in the Force from a failed project to build better restraints for Force sensitive prisoners. “What is that?”

Her fingers rose to the pendant, brushing over an unfamiliar pattern of engraved stars.

“It’s Selenubis, sir.” She paused, flicking her gaze over his mask like she might find a clue to his expression. When he didn’t answer, she pushed ahead. “A traditional protection charm from Lethe. If it’s offensive to the First Order I can come again with out it…?”

Behind his mask, he ground his teeth, clawing against the foggy wall so few of her thoughts penetrated. Selenubis proved useless to the First Order when it became clear the stone did as much to shield a prisoner from other Force users as it did to shackle the target.

She wanted to return without her shield? She wouldn’t leave with it. He’d hack it off her neck, and if he didn’t like what he found in her head, she wouldn’t leave with that, either.

His flickering saber reflected in her eyes as he angled it up, forcing her to expose her throat as red lightning reflected in bottomless reservoirs of control. He didn’t believe for a second she was ignorant of the power in her little trinkets and beads.

Just as he prepared to cleave through her jewelry – and likely leave a deep burn to remember him by – one of his knights burst into the hall.

“Commander. The Supreme Leader requests your presence. Immediately, sir.”

His foiled rage rebounded, arcing like a current through his bones and burning him with his own intent as he growled in frustration. The sound hissed through his modulator.

This would have to wait.

Deactivating his saber, he stepped back, pivoted on his heel, and marched back the way he came. He would have to relive his humiliation at his master’s feet, and there was no time to vent his frustrations.

He left no orders in his rush to answer his master’s summons. No one held the girl or even took special note of her name and business as he knelt before Snoke’s projected image, and by the time he returned to the hall, she was gone.

The documentation the dead corporal had been withholding, a pile on the floor by his headless corpse, had gone with her.

[not-so-allegiant-general]

I did a math. IT would be possible for Hux and Kallus to meet. Let's assume that Kallus is still alive and capeable.

JUST IMAGINE THAT.

Kallus and Zeb living their best live with other Lasats as they accepted Kallus as one of them. They didn't want to intervene with the Resistance bc "They will be fine" Zeb always said. But now they got the signal, calling for help from the Resistance to entire Galaxy. And Kallus just can't sleep, eat or function bc existing of First Order is already like a slap for him. He can't stand that after all of it another empire will win. And Zeb can't stand looking at distress Kallus, so he said. "Okey. Get on this damn ship Alexandr. We are going."

They found Resistance. And caused a lot of exitment bc there are actual legends about ghost crew and almost everyone knows them. Poe even knew one song. But when he offered to sing it Kallus offered to shot him and Zeb had to intervened. After everyone calm down a little Poe blured out that they have a spy on board one of First Order ship and Kallus went absolutely feral about it.

" You tell me that you receive information from someone out there. And didn't even bother trying to pull him out!?"

" I… I proposed that but general Organa…

"Well. I am not under any general."

" With all respect Alexandr we appreciate your help but if you want to stay you should.."

"Excuse me, princess. I went in too much trouble in life by just following orders. Not any more. If there is a man or a woman out there. A person. Alone. Who risked their life just to send you information. Valuable i suppose. And now they stoped responding i am going there. Because if i learned something in my life from these rebels scums that i grown to like its not leaving anyone behind. No matter what."

"Damn. He is good in this " Finn shook his head.

"am coming with ya!"

" Poe no!" Leia said.

"Poe Yes!" Finn responded.

**

Plan was simple and stupid. But Kallus had an honest belief that when it comes to rebels only this kind of plan work. They suppose to get caught, wait until spy undercover himself. If it not happened in spawn of five days they had backup escape plan. He didn’t have to wait. First time he saw Hux he knew. He didn’t tell them. It was hard enough to pull out low ranking officer. When it comes to general it will be way harder. When it comes to Starkiller, Kriff… it's probably imposible. He knew now that if they want to leave the ship they had to do it on Hux's terms.

And this damn kid was clever.

And as he expected Hux wasn’t also easy to kill.

They were running to the ship trying to avoid blaster bolts. He remembered the first time he had to shoot to imperial officers, he missed every shoot back then. But Hux was different. Every his shot reached the target. Except one. Hux froze holding a blaster in an extended arm. Mitaka was standing before him, blaster in hand, aimed to the ground. Mitaka dropped the weapon, eyes wide open, face pale like paper. Hux took a deep breath taking off finger from the trigger. Kallus wanted to push him away, but he was to slow. Blaster bolt reached Hux’s arm. He screamed in pain falling to the ground and before anyone else reacted Mitaka grabbed his blaster. The shot was clean and successful, stormtrooper dropped dead. They got Hux to the ship.

“Was it always like that?” Kallus looked at Zeb.

“Like what?”

“ We rescued the spy. But he is General who exterminated Hosnian Prime. We also rescued someone else, entirely unplanned, and he is in shock now. “he glanced at absolutely traumatized Mitaka sited on the ground “We created more problems than we solved. “ Zeb laughed.

“Yeah. Yeah Kal, it was always like that.” Kallus narrowed his eyes throwing a suspicious look.

‘Alright. You!” he looked at Finn and Poe “Which one of you two reckless idiots unintentionally recruited the Starkiller??”

Finn looked at him in surprise.

“What? What are you talking about….?”

Poe cleared his throat, scratching his head. “Poe?…”

“Yeah, well it’s a funny story buddy. Em… “ Zeb was amused, Kallus was visibly done with all of this, Finn was horrified, Mitaka still in shock and Hux was looking at the pilot, he was smiling.

“It’s not funny at all, Dameron. I told you, you have to stop laughing when it's time to cry” He wrapped himself tight in his coat. Poe turned around to look at him.

"Hey… Good to see you alive, Hugs." Kallus sighed already knowing the look on his face. Zeb grinned.

"Alright lovers, enough of that. Get us home Dameron" They both screamed in protest and Kallus just smiled. Memories humming in his head.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Yandere (dark!)First Order Poe Dameron HC's

Note: If anyone wants a story about this feel free to ask me and I can and happily will do one. <3

Poe had a crush on you at his time in the Resistance, so when he joined the First Order, and became a General, one of his goals was to capture you and keep you by his side.

Would keep you in his quarters, with a protocol droid keeping a watch on you should you try something stupid or try to escape.

Poe became a General and was gifted a Fleet and his own personal Resurgent Star Destroyer as a 'thank you' after he spilled every information about the Resistance he had.

Think you can escape? Well... first you have to get through the droid in his quarters and the Battalions of Stormtroopers roaming his Star Destroyer. Even if you manage to knock one out and steal his armor you still have to make your way out of his ship... Oh, and even if you can fly a certain shuttle or starfighter, if you speak into the comm and state whatever story you came up with to get permission to take off, if Poe hears your voice then you better pray an (un)lucky laser bolt will hit your starfighter. Because once Poe has you back in his quarters, he can and will punish you.

If Poe finds you wandering around in places of his ship where you shouldn't be, he would place a hand on your shoulder, making you freeze in place as you pray it would be just an officer or a Stormtrooper. Would lean down close to your ear and say: "Did my little thing got lost, hm?" his hot breath would cause ice cold shivers to run down your spine in response.

If you actually manage to escape his Star Destroyer unnoticed? If you're lucky and the bridge crew couldn't lock onto your ship fast enough to track you with the hyperspace tracker then you have some time to think what to do. But once Poe discovered you escaped he will be furious, he wants to get his priced little thing back and punish you for your disobedience. And once he has a trace of you? It's over for you.

The reason why Poe betrayed the Resistance was because he was sick of always being on the run, always following the ideology of bringing peace and defeating the First Order. He then realized the First Order would be the fraction to truly bring peace and order to the Galaxy.

Poe in the Resistance was hot-headed, cocky and sometimes even disobedient and stubborn, even ignoring orders from Leia herself. But now that he's loyal to the First Order? Well, now he is quite the opposite, shows a more sadistic side, he's calculating, cold, serious and ruthless.

He enjoys hunting down Rebels and other scum, making them think they have successfully jumped into hyperspace and into a safe space, only for Poe to track them via the First Order's hyperspace tracker and jump out behind them with his Star Destroyer to end their lifes.

You have some friends in the Resistance? Poe is nice enough to keep them alive as long as you keep being obedient and behave yourself. But once you try something funny or try to escape he will threaten to kill them. If you disobey again? He will give you a second chance by nearly killing them, but a third chance? Well, there won't be another chance for your friends...

Poe is still nice, don't get me wrong, he will give you alot of freetime, you can do nearly anything you want when he is on the ship. But when he is flying in his TIE then you will be kept inside his quarters.

If you behave yourself and be obedient then Poe will bring you valuable gifts and trophies after a battle. Those can range from simple jewelry to rare crystals, basically anything with a high value. <3

[simslegacy5083]

Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (9/9/2024) Episode: A Galaxy Far, Far, Away

With the public and very private parts of their wedding night complete, Noemi and Luigi headed out the next morning to honeymoon in Battu.

Luigi was sad he couldn’t talk the theme park’s PR team into letting him film their adventures, but Noemi convinced him that taking a break from worrying about camera angles and optics would foster the relaxing and immersive experience they were seeking.

Another park policy Noemi was grateful for was their strict rules on “breaking character”. She might love how happy Luigi’s fans made him, but she wasn’t keen on giving up any of her brand-new husband's time and attention on her honeymoon.

After a couple quick phone calls to check in on their fur and sim babies it was time to officially begin their adventure!

The couple knew they wanted to fight for The Resistance, but another park requirement was that first time guests engage in a short “tutorial adventure” to help orient them and give them some basic information on each of the parks three main factions.

They quickly learned the secret code phrases and locations for their preferred faction, although Luigi was also impressed with the actors playing Storm Troopers. The First Order background chatter about “happy accidents” and “shooting resistance scum out of the sky” sounded almost TOO real…!

Noemi had been quite excited to role play, but by the time they’d hunted down and talked to members of all the various factions her social battery was running low. Both sims were a bit hungry by that point anyway and agreed to swing by Docking Bay 7 for a break and a bite to eat.

Once they were seated with their meal Noemi confided in her spouse “I don’t know if I can do this. I know they’re just actors, but I still feel anxious, like they’ll think I’m stupid or “doing it wrong”.

“You’re doing great!” he assured her. “I’m always happy to do the talking, but maybe you could use this as a safe opportunity to practice? I promise you can’t get it “wrong”. Remember, I’ve been an employee here. Part of the job is guiding and helping guests find their voice. Its all in good fun.”

Noemi nodded “You know what? You’re right. I’ll give it a try, if you promise to take over if I get overwhelmed”

“Of course.” he said, wrapping her in a quick side hug “now let’s go find the resistance encampment – I’m ready to be a rebel!”

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Surrender - Rose Tico x General Hux (GingerRose)

Authors Note: Good lord….these two make my heart explode.

Warning: Kind of spicy! Nothing huge though.

——————————————————————————————

Air. Air was all Rose could feel and hear. Empty and warm air that surrounded her in this stupid cell. Only an hour ago were her and Finn on their knees infront of the pathetic First Order General. Only an hour ago did the bastard place his disgusting gloved hand under her chin- tilting her to look up at him. She’d debated biting it off- but thought against the better part of herself. It would do no good. No matter how much she wished to see the filth of his smirk wiped from his face.

Now- she was here. Dim lights of the cell flickering to life. She’d been alone. She was sure this wasn’t the end- someone would have to come to the rescue. They couldnt have just been…abandoned? Could they? Gods…she thought it had been only an hour. Her mind flashed with images of Finn. What could they be doing to him?

She was sat down- curled up against her knees as her hands were bound together. She could feel her heart beat- a mixture of fear and determination. She could feel her heart beating to the empty rythm of the air. It was horrid. It was all horrid.

She closed her eyes as she heard the clank of steps outside- heavy boots. They were frustratingly…gracefully getting closer.

As the cell door creaked open, Rose glanced up from her knees, meeting the General’s cold and calculating gaze. His uniform pristine, his demeanor stern, he exuded authority as he approached her with measured steps. The tension in the room was palpable, the unspoken animosity simmering between them like a coiled serpent.

"You're quite the thorn in my side, scum." Hux stated, his voice steady, yet laced with an underlying intensity. "Your resistance and tenacity are both impressive and vexing."

What the hell was he doing here? Rose didn't flinch, her gaze unwavering, a subtle defiance evident in her eyes. "I'll never stop fighting for what I believe in," she replied, her voice matching his own steadiness, refusing to let him see her vulnerability. Though it came out as more of a weak snarl.

Hux's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes narrowing as if relishing the challenge. "What did I say about rebel vermin?” A scowl nearly surfaced. “What you “believe” in is far below the First Order. The Republic is no more.” He spat the word “Republic”, looking at her with accomplishment. His eyebrows raised slightly, tantalizing half smile playing on his face.

Rose didn’t believe it. She knew. The Resistance would never give up, not now. Not ever. Someone would come find her and Finn- and when they did- they would keep fighting. As they had always done.

She didn’t grace him with a response- simply looking up at him in hatred. Her nostrils flared- eyes looking up at him from beneath her brows. Somehow- her lack of a response seemed to irk him. His smile slipped into the familiar scowl- raising his hand. Expecting a blow to the face like Finn got- she closed her eyes- ready to accept- but it never came.

When she opened her eyes- she found the General simply holding his hand up- lip curled. It was as though he had stopped himself- and in his own halt- confused himself as well. His brows furrowed onto her.

There was a moment of charged silence as their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills taking place between them. Rose felt the tension building like an electrical storm, unsure whether to brace herself for the strike or to succumb to the pull of…strange attraction she sensed emanating from Hux.

The General shook his head- as though to shake off his own failure to punish her.

Finally, Rose took her turn to speak- voice leveled. She remembered the feeling of his glove- tracing her cheek and down to her chin- forcing her head to look up at him. The touch…strangely gentle.

“What is it your doing here? If you’re not going to torture me?” Her voice shook- but still dripped with resistance- determination in her throat as she nodded to his hand- still raised.

He scoffed, presumably offended. As though the question was obvious. Hux took a step closer, his breath mingling with hers, their proximity igniting an undeniable spark. He had leaned down to her level on the floor.

Rose thought- this would be the perfect time. To kick or hit or scream or bite. Though…alike Hux’s own failure to hit her- she stood completely still. She attempted to convince herself it was of the fear. The consequences she would face for hitting the man. Thats why she didn’t do it….certainly not the way his eyes trained on her…or the feeling of his touch…or the way his lips curved in the flickering light of the cell.

“You bewilder me, scum,” His voice was suddenly akin to a whisper as neither took their eyes away from the other. It was like a confession- aggression still evident in his words. “…I can't tell if I want to argue with you… or do something else entirely."

Rose swallowed, mouth dry. His hand raised again- though Rose paid it no mind. She stared into his eyes- determined to not show any weakness. It slowly raised as it did when she was first on her knees for him…gloved finger coming down to her chin- then making his way down her jaw, before turning into a fist. He roughly wrapped his hand around into her hair, forcibly pulling her neck back in a sharp motion.

Rose let out a grunt at the action, causing her to finally stand up to his level as he pulled upwards. Her mouth dropped, not taking her eyes off him once. Heavy breaths sounded between the both of them- Hux’s own strangley shakey despite his power. It made her question what the hell was happening. Though it hit her- neither of them really knew.

“Your defiance fuels my desire to break you, yet I find myself….inexplicably…captivated.” His whispers sounded. He sure does talk…a lot. Rose thought to herself, gaze moving from his eyes to his lips. She hurriedly looked away- fighting her thoughts of his lips.

Another tug to her hair forced her to look at him. “Look at me,” he growled- eyes trained on her- emperial accent shaking at his own words. ”Nothing else.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, torn between her instincts to resist and the inexplicable allure he held over her. "I won't let you break me," she asserted, though her resolve seemed to waver as his intensity bore into her soul.

“I assure you…” A slight smile played on his lips- one that he was unsure of himself. He was letting himself go. His control was slipping- but in the moment he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. He dipped his head into her own neck, hand fisted into her hair pulling back. He was now fully pressed up against her- her own body against a cell wall. “…It would be quite…pleasurable for the both of us.”

His breath grazed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. He murmured the words against her neck, his admission catching them both off guard.

She felt her thighs clench together in reflex. She hated this.

Rose's heart raced, and she mustered the strength to meet his gaze with defiance. "I won't give you the satisfaction," she whispered, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let you see me weak."

A mix of frustration and intrigue flickered across Hux's features as he pulled away from her neck to observe her. The air between them crackled with a charged energy, a dangerous dance of power and attraction that neither of them could deny.

His grip on her hair loosened slightly, and his thumb brushed against her cheek, his touch strangely tender yet tinged with restraint.

"Your soul...” His voice grew more intense. He held on to her tighter, his affection evident in every caress.

“Your body…” Hux pulled at her hair and leaned close to her lips until he was practically speaking against them.

“Your thoughts…” He struggled to get the words out as he felt the sensation of her own body press against him.

“They already give me satisfaction,” He spat- harsh contrast to the reality of the words. “You are already weak. I can see you right now. A weak…pathetic little thing.”

Rose's breath hitched, her heart conflicted by the emotions coursing through her. She had come to see General Hux as nothing more than an enemy, a cruel and heartless leader of the First Order. But now, faced with this complexing…allure…she couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of anger and attraction.

"Is this some kind of game to you?" she asked, her voice trembling, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer. "Toying with me like this?"

Hux's gaze bore into hers, and for a moment, the arrogance in his eyes faded, replaced by a raw honesty that surprised them both. "No," he said, his voice barely above a whisper- cracking in self-frustration and admission. "It's not a game…I don't know what it is, but it's something I can't explain."

The vulnerability in his confession resonated with Rose, and she found herself inching closer to him, drawn to the enigma before her. Despite everything, she couldn't deny the pull she felt, the strange connection that had formed between them from then to now.

Their faces were mere inches apart, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. Rose could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, and her heart pounded in her chest, torn between the desire to fight and the desire to surrender to his wants for her.

Hux closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, calming himself enough for his voice to return to normal. He opened his eyes and looked back into hers. His gaze was filled with the same confusion and conflict as when he spoke before. He knew what he was feeling, but he couldn't admit it, not here.

“Please.” He muttered- word gutteral in his throat. As if it was foreign to him to have to beg for anything. He was used to just getting what he wanted.

Rose felt a strange mixture of emotions swirling inside her as she looked into Hux's conflicted gaze. The General, known for his cold and ruthless demeanor, now appeared vulnerable, almost like a lost little boy searching for something he couldn't quite name.

His plea hung heavy in the air, and Rose could feel the weight of his desire- though not quite fully understanding just what he was asking. It was a dangerous proposition, and part of her wanted to resist, to hold onto her defiance and not give him the satisfaction he sought.

But another part of her, a part that she had never acknowledged before, was drawn to him in a way she couldn't explain. It was as if they were two halves of a whole, two souls entangled in a fate they couldn't escape.

As his lips hovered near hers, Rose felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her. She knew she should push him away, to remind herself of the pain and suffering he had caused. The people he’d killed. Tortured without a second glance. Yet, in this moment, none of it mattered. The lines between captor and captive blurred, and all she could focus on was the magnetic pull between them.

"Please what?" she mumured, her voice barely above a whisper, feeling her resolve melt away. The vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in her own, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the galaxy.

"Surrender," Hux stated, his voice firmer now, as if trying to regain his composure. His voice was a bit louder- as if he was commanding her as he did with the troops. He had practice, Rose reminded herself. Practice in forcing people to do what he wanted. Practice in pain. “Surrender to me. Not to the First Order. To me. No one else.”

His words made her let go of a shakey breath, and Rose found herself finally unable to retort. It was a dangerous proposition, and part of her wanted to run, to deny the questionable aura between them.

But another part of her, a part that she had kept hidden deep inside her heart, yearned to give in, to let herself be consumed by the passion and desire that Hux had suddenly awakened in her.

In that moment, Rose made a choice that would change the course of their lives forever. And with that same mix of fear and determination she had in the begginning, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was electric, a collision of conflicting emotions and unspoken desires. It was as if the cell walls around them had crumbled, leaving them exposed and vulnerable to each other.

Hux responded with equal fervor, if not more. His free hand roughly grabbed her neck, shoving her even farther into the wall that trapped her. His touch was both offensive and passionate- and in that moment, they both surrendered, unbeknownst.

As they kissed, time seemed to stand still, and the weight of the war and their responsibilities falling away. In this small, secluded moment, they were just two individuals bound by fate, trying to find solace and understanding in each other.

When they finally pulled away, both were left breathless and bewildered by the intensity of the moment. Their gazes locked once more, and in that shared look, they saw the vulnerability and strength in each other. Hux looked…horrified- but hadn’t let go of her throat in his hands. Rose looked similarly.

Neither knew where this uncharted path would lead them, but they both knew that they were forever changed. The lines between love and hate had blurred, and they were left with a whirlwind of emotions that neither of them could fully comprehend.

In the dimly lit cell, they’d both stood as equals, despite the chains that held Rose in place.

And in that moment, they realized that sometimes, surrendering to the other….may not be all that bad.

——————————————————————————————

[kittyofalltrades]

A Change of Pace

The Resistance has a new defector to the cause. Former Captain Poe Dameron at your service.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word: 4758

Rating: Explicit MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

Beta: @welcometostayingawake

Warnings: PinV (wrap it before you tap it), Oral (f rec), birth control implant, kinda enemies to lovers (so yes Poe is sarcastic and she takes a swing at him) let me know if i missed anything

You tapped the datapad connected to your X-wing. There had been a system malfunction and you were determined to get to the bottom of it. You were tapping away when your friend Finn appeared on the ladder, when he didn’t immediately speak you assumed that whatever he wanted wasn’t important. You tapped a way under his watchful gaze for another minute before finally turning to him.

“Need something buddy?” You asked.

“General Organa wants to see you,” he told you.

“You could have led with that,” you told him with a snort.

Finn chewed his lip and fidgeted nervously under your gaze and you suddenly felt bad about scolding him. Sometimes he was so worried about interrupting that he’d just wait until he was acknowledged. You hated it and thought he’d finally broken the habit but apparently not, you made note to be more gentle with him next time.

You climbed out of the cockpit and down the ladder, you pulled a towel out of your pocket and attempted to clean the grime of working on an X-wing off while Finn waited. Once you were done, you disconnected your datapad and exited the hangar with him hot on your heels.

“Did you hear about the new arrival?” Finn asked quietly, having apparently gotten over his initial scolding.

“Not much just that it was some First Order person with enough intel that he wasn’t shot on sight,” you answered with a shrug. You weren’t much for the gossip, especially when it pertained to new recruits.

“I wonder what they’re like.”

“Probably stuck up and even after joining still thinks we’re nothing but rebel scum,” you answered with a snort. The rest of the walk to Leia’s office was quiet, with you sinking into thought, wondering what could be so urgent that she wouldn’t just send a droid for you.

Once you reached Leia’s office, Finn departed, leaving you to your fate. He didn’t say it often but his worry that Leia didn’t trust him would never fully go away. And honestly, after the loss of Rey, it wasn’t that small of a concern.

You entered the General’s office and took a second to enjoy the view. Even in the heart of the jungle, Leia had found the most peaceful place to set up. A cave with the wall open to the elements, providing a breathtaking view of the base, sat in front of you. Sometimes when she gave permission, you’d sit on the floor of her office just taking in the view and being reminded that these were the people keeping hope alive.

Behind you Leia cleared her throat making you turn to look at her, seeing her wearing another set of beautiful robes. Why she bothered was always a mystery to you. The jungle’s heat had you wearing the least amount of clothing acceptable whereas she was swathed in fabric constantly, and you weren’t sure how she handled the heat. You started sweating just looking at her.

“Commander, I’d like you to meet someone,” She said in a regal tone.

The word Commander had you straighten your spine, something important was about to happen. That something being a man in a First Order uniform stepping out of the shadows. He wore stun cuffs but still held his hands away from his body to show himself unarmed. You itched to reach for your blaster when you saw the officer marks on his uniform. Almost as if sensing your thoughts he gave you a wicked smile.

“Commander, this is Poe Dameron, former captain of the First Order. He’s been kind enough to offer valuable information during his defection,” Leia told you with a thin lipped smile.

“Good for him, what does that have to do with me?” you asked, barely keeping your tone respectful.

“I’m making him your subordinate. Where you go, he goes, as such I’ve arranged a double room for you both,” she continued. “Stateroom 54.”

“Wait a double room? You don’t expect me to cohabitate with this man, do you?” you asked aghast.

You had to admit that Poe was attractive for a First Order officer, but you didn’t think you could handle living with him. Not after your break up, and Leia wasn’t the type to try to play matchmaker; she was serious.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Am I not pretty enough for you?” Poe asked with a grin.

You ignored him and turned to Leia in an attempt to plead your case. To ask that she not leave you with this First Order officer. This man who seemed all smiles but you weren’t sure he could be trusted, defector or not.

“Get him outfitted, trained, and mission ready, Commander,” Leia told you firmly.

You processed the words with a deepening frown, that meant–she couldn’t be serious, “Am I grounded?”

Leia didn’t answer, instead she released Poe from the cuffs and retreated to her desk with them. “Dismissed, Commander. Dismissed, Dameron.”

“But Leia–”

“I said dismissed, Commander,” Leia repeated with finality.

You gave her a crisp salute and turned on your heel, exiting her office quickly. You were this man’s babysitter, like you didn’t already have enough on your plate with former First Order Officers. A particular ginger bastard floated to the forefront of your mind and you remembered being his babysitter until he was deemed trustworthy. How kind he’d been to you after his first battle with the resistance. You mind drifted to how sweetly he’d kissed you and how he’d taken his time fucking you and exploring your body. The good times played like a reel until you got to the bad times. The fights, his need to be in control, his need to keep you grounded, and his lies, most of all.

Poe’s voice dragged you back to the present and away from all the reasons Leia shouldn’t have left you with another First Order Officer.

“What do you want?”

“I asked where we were going, sweetheart,” Poe asked with a charming smile.

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you growled at him, the nickname was wearing on your nerves.

“Or what, sweetheart?” he asked, drawing out the word. He seemed to be enjoying needling you and he was going to pay for it.

In a small fit of rage, you swept his feet from under him sending him to the ground while a yelp. Once he was down, you put a heavy booted foot on his chest keeping him down where you could look at him. “You can call me Commander, Black Leader, my name or ‘hey you’ for all I care, but for kriff’s sake stop calling me ‘sweetheart’.”

“Yes, Commander,” Poe said, giving you that charming smile again. You reluctantly let him up, wondering if you had won this battle or if he had. You had just learned a valuable lesson not to underestimate him.

You sighed and turned down one of the least used pathways to the Quartermaster. You didn’t want anybody spotting that First Order uniform, it might cause problems. Yes, there were plenty of First Order defectors but one as pretty as him was bound to be an issue. Not that you thought he was pretty.

You reached the Quartermaster’s building quickly and stepped in. “Shiress. It’s me, I have an order to place,” you called into the depths of the building while Poe came around behind you.

From the back, a small portly woman stepped out giving you a happy smile. “Commander, just the person I was wanting to see. Your order arrived last night. I can get it for you now, if you like.”

“Sure,” you told her cheerfully. “While you're back there, do you think you can get me a full outfitting?”

“Sure sweets, male or female or non Terran specific?” Shiress called as she headed toward the back room.

You turned to Poe, “Hey, are you male or female?”

He gave you a raised eyebrow at the teasing. “I am very much male, maybe I can show you later, Commander.”

“You do know I am armed, right?” you threatened.

Poe laughed and put his hands up in surrender. You hated how the sound slithered across your skin and made you shiver. Damn, even his laugh was fuckable.

Shiress returned and dropped a crate at your feet. From it, she withdrew a set of clothes that she thrust at Poe and waved him toward a changing area half hidden in a corner. He didn’t complain and proceeded without a word. You watched him covertly while Shiress listed the contents of the cart. You could only see his chest and shoulders but you enjoyed the expanse of golden skin and broad shoulders that was revealed as the First Order uniform was peeled away.

“Commander. Commander,” Shiress said snapping her fingers to get your attention. When you finally looked at her, she gave you a wide grin that made you roll your eyes. “I know you like ‘em pretty.”

She cackled at the words and you ignored her in favor of squatting down to examine the contents of the crate. If Poe walking around the corner shirtless wasn’t distracting enough, the fact that the top button of his pants was undone certainly was. The opening at the top of his pants framed the trail of dark hair that disappeared just out of sight. You’d seen men before but never one of this caliber. You wanted to run your tongue down that little patch of hair and see if he tasted as good as he looked.

“This shirt is too small and the pants just barely fit,” Poe said while he passed the shirt back to Shiress. He turned to show the smaller woman just how tight the pants were around his ass and you managed to drag your eyes away before he looked at you.

Shiress tutted and sent him back to the changing room before giving you a sly smile. It wasn’t a secret that since you’d broken up with your last beau you’d refused all advances and, in short, needed to get laid.

“Just because I need to get laid doesn’t mean I need to ride the first pretty face I find. Ride the first pretty face?” You questioned softly out loud. “That was not where that sentence was going.”

Shiress tossed Poe a second shirt and returned to you. “Need anything else? Or is that it?”

“No, just send the rest of his things to stateroom 54,” you told her.

“Take my advice, girlie. You better ride that man into the sunset before somebody else decides to,” Shiress gave a quick squeeze to your shoulder just as Poe returned with his uniform neatly folded. She whisked the offending fabric away leaving you with Poe, with you still kneeling beside the crate.

Poe gave you a quick smile and opened his mouth. “I swear to the maker, Poe, if you say something about how good I look on my knees…”

“I was just going to ask how I looked. But now that you mention it-”

You finally found what you were looking for and in a swift move grabbed his arm and injected his birth control implant making him yelp in pain. “Oops.” You told him before dropping the injector back into the crate.

“I was up to date on my implant,” Poe grumbled while he rubbed the sore spot on his arm.

You didn’t answer as you stood and dusted yourself off. You picked up the crate and carried it out of the building with a groan. It was heavy and almost none of it was yours. You turned and dropped it at his feet.

“You want to get that? It’s your stuff.”

“Are you going to order me, Commander?”

You turned on your heel and made your way through the jungle leaving him to decide if he wanted to carry his things. You heard him trot up to you and you glanced sideways to see that he’d decided to carry the crate. You watched him out of the corner of your eyes admiring the long line of throat that was exposed by his unbuttoned shirt, a necessity in the jungle heat. You were so busy watching Poe that you almost missed the mop of glossy, ginger hair.

You tackled Poe off the path making him drop his crate of items. You covered his mouth and whispered a quick shush to him. You carefully peaked out of the brush watching as the ginger hair bypassed your hiding spot making you breathe a sigh of relief. Once the coast was clear, you pushed yourself upright fully, releasing his mouth.

“If you want me under you that badly, that’s all you need to say, sweetheart,” Poe laughed.

Once you realised the position you were in, you scrambled off of him. You hadn’t meant to end up straddling him. Hell, you hadn’t meant to touch him outside of getting him off the path. You made a rude gesture and started back on the path to your quarters, avoiding any of the common routes just in case.

You reached your quarters without further issues or run-ins with a certain ginger. You used your keycard to access your room and reveal your happily beeping droid.

“BB8 meet Poe,” you said, gesturing your droid toward the man. BB8 rolled happily around the man beeping greetings and questions at him. The droid was always up for making new friends and he was chipper enough that he usually made people smile, except Poe, who was looking at the little droid in horror.

“Beebs, buddy, can you do me a favor?” you called drawing the droid’s attention to yourself.

BB8 stopped circling Poe and focused on you, head bobbing an affirmative.

“Can you get the key card to stateroom 54 from Leia?” you asked.

The droid beeped another affirmative and charged out of the room at top speed, pausing only for the door to open. Poe watched the little droid go with a look of shock on his face.

“What the kriff was that?”

“Come on, Poe, surely even you’ve seen a droid before.”

“Why is it so bright and chipper?” he asked, still shocked.

“I think he’s perfect,” you answered.

“Just like a rebel to want something so bright and garish.”

You ignored the crack at your droid. You’d lovingly built and custom painted the droid yourself, he was damn near your child. When he built his own droid he could bitch about the color scheme. But knowing him, he’d want something drab and boring, just like a member of the First Order would like.

You ignored him and started collecting your few things from the shelves, trinkets that probably looked like garbage but held a place in your heart and dropped them in your duffel bag. The motherboard of the first droid you’d ever built, the carved tooth of a loth cat, shrapnel from your first dog fight all went into the bag making you feel nostalgic about your room.

The sound of fabric rustling made you turn around, and the sight that greeted you was straight out of a wet dream. Poe had laid on your small bed stretched out with his feet crossed at the ankle, his shirt unbuttoned exposing even more deliciously bronze skin and his muscular chest. His chestnut curls were tousled like he’d run a careless hand through them. The sight was mouth watering. You pulled your lip between your teeth while your gaze scanned over him.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” Poe asked seductively.

“No,” you answered quickly, turning back to your shelf. You weren’t going to play this game with him today, if ever.

The sound of fabric shuffling and a presence of heat clued you in to Poe standing behind you.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

“What did I tell you about calling me kriffing sweetheart?” you growled.

You turned rapidly, angling a punch at him, but he caught your fist in one of his larger hands. You tried to pull away but his grip tightened on you. With a sharp tug you were pulled flush against him. Your pulse sped up as he gently grasped your chin pulling your face to his.

“I’ll call you whatever the kriff I want, sweetheart,” he told you, voice like dark silk.

His mouth was a hair's breadth away from yours, hovering, waiting. You closed the distance, your mouth fierce on his, the taste of him filled your head and mouth. He released your hand draping it over his shoulder and dipping his other hand to your waist, pulling your hips flush to his. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, marveling at the silken texture of his curls.

“Do you want this?” he whispered into your mouth.

You nodded. Your words had failed you the second your fingers touched his hair, the soft ringlets addicting under your fingers.

As his mouth moved against yours, he spun your bodies, turning them so that you were up against the wall. Your grip on his hair tightened and he let out a moan. In turn, he slotted one of his thighs between yours, giving you a delicious glimpse at the friction you already craved.

You moaned as he moved his leg again, pushing the seams of your clothes against your sensitive core. In response, he started kissing down your neck, lightly sucking the skin there. He didn’t spend too much time in one spot, not wanting to leave lasting marks. Your breath hitched as he gently bit at sensitive skin along your collar bones.

You continued running your fingers through his hair as he worked his way down your body, pausing to help you undress as he went. With each button he opened, he laid a kiss on your skin. Your breath caught when he got to the top of your pants. He looked up at you with hooded eyes, as if asking for further permission. You nodded your assent and he flicked open the button on your pants.

He worked your pants down your hips, taking your undergarments with them. You shivered when the heat of his breath puffed against your skin. You parted your legs a little, silently asking for his attention. He smirked.

Surprisingly, he was gentle and careful when he helped you out of your boots. He was sure to place them against the wall out of the way. He helped you step out of your pants and tossed them aside.

He knelt at your feet, getting comfortable on his knees, and nuzzled your belly. You squinted at the surprisingly affectionate move. He started kissing your body again, sucking and nibbling as he went. When he reached the edge of your curls, he looked up at you with a glint in his eye and smiled. Silently, he picked up one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder. The cool air hitting your warm core sent shivers down your spine.

He took his index finger and gently moved it through your folds, spreading the slick that began to gather there. You moaned as he circled your clit. Little by little he did this, and with each pass, his finger slowly sunk further in. On the final pass, his thumb rested against your aching clit and his finger sunk in all the way. He curled it against your sweet spot and your knee nearly buckled.

Your moans creeped up in pitch when he leaned forward and lifted your other leg over his shoulder. With your own shoulders pressed against the wall, he flicked his tongue against your clit, never stopping the movements of his finger. Just as you thought you couldn’t take anymore, and the heat in your belly built, he pulled his finger out. You huffed in frustration.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got you.” He said, whispering it against your core, just loud enough for you to hear.

One of your hands landed in his hair and you threaded your fingers through the strands and pulled forward, pressing his nose against your skin.

He laughed a little, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, making you let out a desperate sound. While you were distracted by the sensation, he slowly dipped two fingers inside your heat and curled them deliciously against your sweet spot. While he rapidly moved the tips of his fingers against the bundle of nerves inside, he sucked and flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves on the outside. You saw stars as your first orgasm of the night swept over you and took your breath away. He moaned into you as your grip on his hair became almost painful when the sensations took over you.

He didn’t stop his ministrations until you whimpered in discomfort, helping you ride through the peak of the orgasm and through the aftershocks. He slowly removed his fingers and swiped his tongue through your folds, gently tasting you. He hummed in approval at what he tasted.

You let go of his hair, and allowed your hand to fall to your side. He pulled away, gently settling your feet on the floor. When he was sure you wouldn’t fall, he rose to his feet.

“How about we move to a more comfortable spot?” He tilted his head toward the bed.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, still panting, trying to catch your breath.

He kicked his boots off and kicked them next to yours. As he removed his own clothes, he tossed them one by one in the general direction yours had landed. He went to remove his own undergarments and stopped. You huffed in annoyance.

He wrapped his arms around your hips, hands grabbing the swell of your ass and lifted, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you to the bed and lowered you down. You made a noise of displeasure as you were reminded that the mattress was still bare. The noise is quickly replaced with a moan as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples and sucked, adding a little pressure with his teeth. He moaned as you worked your fingers through his hair, tugging his head towards your other breast.

As he worked back and forth, teasing, biting, and sucking, he put weight on one hand and used the other to knead your breast, adding to the pleasure. You moaned and bucked your hips, trying to get more friction. He was leaning over you with just enough space between you that you couldn’t reach.

“In a hurry, sweetheart?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face. You glared but managed to refrain from smacking him. He seemed to sense this and laughed a little.

As an answer, you hooked your toes in the waistband of his underwear and used your feet to work them down his hips. He pulled away from you and slid them all the way off his legs. He leaned back into you, the weight of his hard cock, heavy on your thigh. He leaned forward, his knees shifting so that his thighs were as close to you as they could get, and hungrily kissed you, grinding down and pressing the weight of his body into yours, teasing you by thrusting his hips a little. You moaned into his mouth, your grip tightening in his hair.

He pulled away and looked at you intently.

“Well?” you huffed, “Are you going to make bedroom eyes at me all night or are you going to fuck me?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”

You glared at him again, “Don’t call me that,” you grit out between clenched teeth.

“As you wish, Commander.”

You rolled your eyes.

He shifted his weight, so he could grip his cock in one hand. Leaning away from you a bit, so he had room to work, he slid it through your folds, coating it with your slick. You bucked your hips a little as his skin slid against yours in the best way. Still sensitive from earlier, your breath hitched as the head of his cock caught on your clit. You bucked your hips again and whined a little.

Slowly, he pressed into you then pulled out again. He did this several times, sinking further in, each time. The final pass, he sunk all the way in, and stopped moving. The intensity of the sensation was almost too much to take as you both adjusted to it. He seemed to start trembling, waiting for you to let him know he could move.

“If you don’t move, I’m going to strangle you,” you told him, through gritted teeth.

“Like this, sweetheart?” He slid out and roughly thrust in. He moaned, but you practically growled at the nickname. You were quickly distracted as he leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth again, working in time with his thrusting hips.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he paused to adjust himself. You made a noise of protest and he teased you some more. Didn’t thrust his hips, but moved his mouth around where he could reach, nibbling, and sucking. You huffed out in frustration.

You squinted at him when he decidedly ignores you in favor of a particularly sensitive spot. Having had enough of his teasing, you unlocked your ankles from behind his back, squeezed his hips, with your thighs, pushed on his shoulders with both hands, and flipped the both of you so that you were on top and he lay on his back, a shocked expression on his face.

“What? You were taking too long!” you bit out.

Without warning, you reached back and positioned his cock head at your entrance and slowly sunk down onto it. You both moaned and you grabbed both his hands to use them for leverage so you could better ride him. You picked up the pace once you got used to the new position. The sounds coming out of the both of you were sinful. You lifted up and slammed down, harder and harder. The ache in your hips and thighs built into a delicious burn. He worked one of his hands out of yours and pulled your face close to his and kissed you, swirling his tongue against yours. You moaned into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, you nibbled and sucked your way down his chest leaving marks on his skin, as your bodies moved together. He threw his head back at the sensations and shamelessly groaned. You could feel his body tensing under yours, and you knew he was close. You carded your fingers through his hair and bit under his jaw, only to lick the sting away, sucking a little and leaving another mark.

His building climax fed into your own and you leaned back, putting your weight on his thighs.

“Touch me” you prompted.

“As you wish, Commander,” he grinned up at you.

You ground down on him, causing him to groan. As he reached up and grabbed your breasts, you reached down with one hand and rubbed your clit. You rocked your hips in aborted thrusts, and he thumbed at your sensitive nipples. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter and the sounds you both made got louder and louder.

Your orgasm crested, washing over you like a tidal wave. He planted his feet, grabbed your hips, and thrust into you, using your own orgasm to milk his own. He groaned out loudly as his hips met your ass in one strong, final thrust, and you felt him pulsing inside you.

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, and you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. You caught your breath and smiled. He laughed a little, the air puffing across your face.

Gently, he helped you off him and you both lay on your sides facing each other.

“Well. At least we don’t have to change the sheets” you mused.

He let out a bark of laughter, and threw one of his arms over his eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed, still smiling.

You looked at the beautiful man laying next to you somewhat surprised that despite what your brain had said your body had wanted this, no needed this. You threw your arm over him, cuddling tight against his body while sleep dragged your eyelids down.

“Does this mean I can call you sweetheart now?” Poe asked softly.

“Do you really want to take that risk?” you murmured back sleepily.

“If it gets me more of this, kriff yes,” he replied before looking down and realising you’d fallen asleep against him.

[liminalpebble]

May I have one for our favorite ginger General Hux?

Well, well, well, you insolent rebel scum,

Have you learned yet to properly respect the First Order? Do you surrender yet to true power, or shall we play this little game a bit longer? Of the two of us, I must add, you are the only one suffering. For me, it is simply an exhilarating game....one which I will always win.

Your willfulness, while frustrating, is admirable and adorable in its futility. That insolent challenge smoldering in your eyes when I visited your cell was just splendid, beautiful even. However, you will be even more beautiful on your knees. The harder you struggle, the more satisfying it will be to see you soften and yield.

There would be lavish rewards for your obedience, pet, but I would be equally generous in my punishments if you continue your resistance.

Yield. Surrender yourself to me and to The First Order. My special attention towards you shall persist regardless. Whether that will bring you pain or pleasure depends upon your choice.

I'll visit again soon, and when I do, I expect answers.

General Hux

@lemongingerart

[enkisstories]

Armitage: "Alright, you've had your fun. You arrested Poe Dameron, cool, go brag about it in the barracks. But this is as far as this goes."

Stormtrooper: "Not before this man has gotten his picture taken and his ID updated with his new look. It's the law. He broke it. Plain and simple."

Armitage: "You're fired. You're so fired they'll see the smoke in Galma."

Armitage: "Didn't you hear me? I said fuck off! Leave my town NOW before I go full Kylo Ren on you!"

Stormtrooper: "Kylo Ren, everything else he did aside, never played favorites. You do, Sir, and rebels no less."

Armitage: "We have an alliance with them."

Stormtrooper: "That's no reason to fraternize with the human trash. What if the moment we need the rebels no longer and Lady Palpatine gives the order to finish them off, you find yourself hesitating?"

Meanwhile Poe had quickly finished the updating process. Leaving the office, he left the First Order a little reminder of what he thought of them.

Turning around, he noticed a dust cloud created by a heated brawl.

Nobody dared interrupting, but everyone in the district, be they First Order, scoundrels, civillians or Resistance, kept a close watch on the outcome.

Now Armitage wasn't to be trifled with in a fistfight, but he was far from the fighter he'd needed to have been to seriously damage an armored stormtrooper. She could easily afford to let the angry officer barrage her, only to end this with a single strike of her gloved hand. Armitage wiped the blood from his face and gasped for breath.

Stormtrooper: "One's loyalty should be first and foremost to the First Order. Especially the loyalty of one so high up in our command chain."

Armitage: “At this point we have to ask ourselves what do we want order for, and if the answer is anything other than “the people”, it’s wrong! - DISMISSED!"

Stormtrooper: "Yes, Sir."

Poe: "Hey, rebel-scum! Nice work with the bucket head. You know, as far as speeches go, I liked this one best of all of yours so far.”

Armitage: "Poe! Did you listen...? Did you SEE? Do you understand the significance? It's over... My plan didn't work... They'll turn against Rey, too!"

Poe: "But not today, so calm down."

Armitage: "But..."

Poe: "Emergency protocols both to extract Rey and her supporters as well as to quickly strike against our former "allies" are long compiled and can get executed in a moment's notice. For what it's worth, I'm one of those who are authorized to initiate the process. We just never let you in on that."

Armitage: ...

Poe: "Let's go home now."

Armitage: "Have you made bets? About how long this would work?"

Poe: "Oh, no. Totally not."

Armitage: "Who won?"

Poe: "Finn. But that's the neat part, he'll spend the credits taking me to a date."

[kanerallels]

for the Ao3 writer ask game: 7, 8, and 14!

7. Share a line/paragraph/snippet that you were especially proud of from a work this year! Honestly I love how many times I've gotten this one. Ummmm let's see OH HOW ABOUT THIS ONE from my Epic (2013) au that I love very much:

As he and Hera moved to intercept the troopers, he heard the purge trooper scoff. “I can take down Jedi scum any day,” he said. “But you should at least make it hard. Where’s your weapon, Twi’lek?”

Kanan felt a grin cross his face, and he couldn’t resist stopping to watch, just for a moment.

Hera smiled at the purge trooper. “I don’t need one,” she said, and the kyber crystal around her neck began to glow.

8. What's your favorite work you posted this past year? DANG that's hard. Let's go with "Truth And Consequences", my first fic in the Valiant tag!

14. Give us a sneak peek of one of your upcoming works! Hehehehe will do!! From the Sabezra Aladdin Au:

That was the first day Sabine ever met Ezra Bridger. Outsider, Rebel thief, and her best friend in the galaxy. Though she hadn’t thought it on the first day they met, she couldn’t imagine her life without him now.

Sometimes, she wondered if it was just as a friend. But now, things were complicated. Now, she understood her duties to her clan better. She had to protect her people, no matter how much she wanted to rebel and—

“Sabine! Are you even paying attention?”

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

Have some John.

Chernobyl

...The year is 2550. Chernobyl, a desolate wasteland, echoes with the remnants of its haunted past, is now host to a new form of terror. The Insurrectionist FOB, a hive of scum and treachery, thrives amidst the ruins. Here, the Master Chief embarks on a perilous mission to rescue the kidnapped children of Lord Hood.

Dressed for death, the Chief's armor—a dark, winter-camo patterned MIRAGE suit fused with his MK-6 MJOLNIR helmet, his helmet's visor as crimson as blood—melds with the night. Each step is calculated, his form a specter sliding through the shadows, the compact MA2B assault rifle in his grip ready to unleash hell.

The assault begins with an unsuspecting Insurrectionist guard patrolling the perimeter, his steps casual, his demeanor unguarded. Without a sound, Chief closes the gap, his movements a blur. A swift, precise strike to the neck, and the guard crumples, a silent testament to the Chief’s deadly prowess. This is no mere rescue; it's a declaration of war.

Penetrating deeper into the FOB, Chief encounters increasing resistance. The air crackles with gunfire, the night shattered by the cacophony of battle. Insurrectionists, emboldened by their perceived strength, unleash a torrent of lead, but to Master Chief, they might as well be throwing stones.

A squad of rebels forms a barricade, their weapons trained on the narrow corridor ahead. The Chief, undeterred, rolls a grenade with pinpoint accuracy. The explosion is a concussive force of fury, metal and bodies tossed aside like ragdolls in the aftermath. Through the smoke and debris, he advances, his rifle barking death as he dispatches any survivors with merciless efficiency.

The corridors of the FOB become a maze of death, each turn a potential ambush, every room a battlefield. Master Chief navigates this labyrinth, his sensors and instincts guiding him, each engagement more brutal than the last. Insurrectionists, armed with makeshift shields and salvaged weapons, fight desperately but fall just as quickly.

Within the heart of the FOB, the air crackles with anticipation. The corridor narrows, funnelling into a makeshift arena where two titans are destined to collide. There, standing amidst the wreckage of his fallen comrades, is Colonel Robert Watts, a traitor to the UNSC turned Insurrectionist leader.

His physique, augmented in a crude mimicry of Spartan enhancements, gives him the stature of a behemoth, a grotesque parody of the super-soldier program. In his grip, a Brute's gravity hammer, its head crackling with volatile energy, ready to unleash devastation.

Opposite him stands Master Chief, a the real deal. His stance is calm, calculated, the very embodiment of lethal precision. Between them, the air hums with the imminent clash of ideologies made manifest in physical form.

Watts charges first, the gravity hammer swinging in a wide arc, a move designed to crush bone and pulverize armor. John sidesteps, the ground where he stood moments ago now a crater of shattered concrete. The Chief's counter is swift—a burst of gunfire aimed to stagger. But Watts, his body a testament to unsanctioned augmentations, barely flinches, pressing forward with the relentless determination of a man with nothing left to lose.

The hammer swings again, this time in a vertical descent, aimed to split the Chief in two. Chief rolls forward, closing the distance, his MA2B firing in controlled bursts. Watts staggers, the shots finding chinks in his makeshift armor, but the beast of a man roars, undeterred, swinging his hammer in a blind fury.

Chief, now within arm's reach, holsters his rifle, knowing this battle will be decided in close quarters. Watts attempts a backhand swing with the hammer, but Chief catches his arm, the muscles in his suit straining against the augmented might of the Insurrectionist. They struggle, a deadlock of force and will, until John delivers a knee to Watts' midsection, forcing him to buckle.

Freed from the hold, Chief steps back, watching as Watts recovers, the older man's breathing heavy, his movements tinged with desperation. The Chief knows this fight won't be won by brute strength alone.

Watts, fueled by rage, charges again, the hammer raised high. This time, Chief meets him head-on, his own augmented strength channelled into a single, devastating punch. The impact sends shockwaves through the air, Watts' arm recoiling from the force. The hammer falls, its ominous hum silenced as it skids across the floor.

The Colonel, now disarmed, faces the Spartan with nothing but his fists and his fury. The two engage in a brutal ballet of punches and parries, each blow a testament to their respective training and enhancements. Chief's movements are precise, economical, while Watts fights with the wild ferocity of a cornered animal.

The fight moves through the corridor, a dance of destruction that leaves the walls scored and the floor littered with debris. Watts lands a heavy blow to Master Chief's helmet, a crack appearing in the visor. The Chief staggers but recovers, the damage igniting a spark of urgency within him.

With a fluid motion born of countless battles, Chief feints a punch, drawing Watts into an overextended swing. As the Colonel's guard drops, Chief delivers a series of rapid strikes, targeting the augmentations' weak points, the culmination of combat experience and strategic brilliance.

Watts, overwhelmed, begins to falter, his movements slowing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. John seizes the opportunity, landing a crushing blow through Watts' chest, the impact reverberating through the corridor as John's fist rips through the other-side of Watts' torso.

Watts' body slumps to the ground, dead.

The Master Chief stands over him, the victor.

With the FOB's heart now silent, Master Chief proceeds to the children's holding area. The door, reinforced and locked, poses no obstacle as John peels the door off its hinges. Inside, the children cower, their eyes wide with fear and hope. They are safe now, their rescuer a towering figure standing amidst the smoke, his silhouette promising safety.

The return journey through the FOB is a silent procession, the night reclaiming the ruins of Chernobyl as the mission, though successful, leaves a heavy toll on the Chief; each life taken, necessary in the pursuit of a greater good, weighs upon him...

Dangggg this was awesome. It's fun to see a more action-oriented chapter hit. I enjoyed seeing the idea of the crazy zombie Watts, that's a fascinating thought!

[empresskadia]

Have some John.

Chernobyl

...The year is 2550. Chernobyl, a desolate wasteland, echoes with the remnants of its haunted past, is now host to a new form of terror. The Insurrectionist FOB, a hive of scum and treachery, thrives amidst the ruins. Here, the Master Chief embarks on a perilous mission to rescue the kidnapped children of Lord Hood.

Dressed for death, the Chief's armor—a dark, winter-camo patterned MIRAGE suit fused with his MK-6 MJOLNIR helmet, his helmet's visor as crimson as blood—melds with the night. Each step is calculated, his form a specter sliding through the shadows, the compact MA2B assault rifle in his grip ready to unleash hell.

The assault begins with an unsuspecting Insurrectionist guard patrolling the perimeter, his steps casual, his demeanor unguarded. Without a sound, Chief closes the gap, his movements a blur. A swift, precise strike to the neck, and the guard crumples, a silent testament to the Chief’s deadly prowess. This is no mere rescue; it's a declaration of war.

Penetrating deeper into the FOB, Chief encounters increasing resistance. The air crackles with gunfire, the night shattered by the cacophony of battle. Insurrectionists, emboldened by their perceived strength, unleash a torrent of lead, but to Master Chief, they might as well be throwing stones.

A squad of rebels forms a barricade, their weapons trained on the narrow corridor ahead. The Chief, undeterred, rolls a grenade with pinpoint accuracy. The explosion is a concussive force of fury, metal and bodies tossed aside like ragdolls in the aftermath. Through the smoke and debris, he advances, his rifle barking death as he dispatches any survivors with merciless efficiency.

The corridors of the FOB become a maze of death, each turn a potential ambush, every room a battlefield. Master Chief navigates this labyrinth, his sensors and instincts guiding him, each engagement more brutal than the last. Insurrectionists, armed with makeshift shields and salvaged weapons, fight desperately but fall just as quickly.

Within the heart of the FOB, the air crackles with anticipation. The corridor narrows, funnelling into a makeshift arena where two titans are destined to collide. There, standing amidst the wreckage of his fallen comrades, is Colonel Robert Watts, a traitor to the UNSC turned Insurrectionist leader.

His physique, augmented in a crude mimicry of Spartan enhancements, gives him the stature of a behemoth, a grotesque parody of the super-soldier program. In his grip, a Brute's gravity hammer, its head crackling with volatile energy, ready to unleash devastation.

Opposite him stands Master Chief, a the real deal. His stance is calm, calculated, the very embodiment of lethal precision. Between them, the air hums with the imminent clash of ideologies made manifest in physical form.

Watts charges first, the gravity hammer swinging in a wide arc, a move designed to crush bone and pulverize armor. John sidesteps, the ground where he stood moments ago now a crater of shattered concrete. The Chief's counter is swift—a burst of gunfire aimed to stagger. But Watts, his body a testament to unsanctioned augmentations, barely flinches, pressing forward with the relentless determination of a man with nothing left to lose.

The hammer swings again, this time in a vertical descent, aimed to split the Chief in two. Chief rolls forward, closing the distance, his MA2B firing in controlled bursts. Watts staggers, the shots finding chinks in his makeshift armor, but the beast of a man roars, undeterred, swinging his hammer in a blind fury.

Chief, now within arm's reach, holsters his rifle, knowing this battle will be decided in close quarters. Watts attempts a backhand swing with the hammer, but Chief catches his arm, the muscles in his suit straining against the augmented might of the Insurrectionist. They struggle, a deadlock of force and will, until John delivers a knee to Watts' midsection, forcing him to buckle.

Freed from the hold, Chief steps back, watching as Watts recovers, the older man's breathing heavy, his movements tinged with desperation. The Chief knows this fight won't be won by brute strength alone.

Watts, fueled by rage, charges again, the hammer raised high. This time, Chief meets him head-on, his own augmented strength channelled into a single, devastating punch. The impact sends shockwaves through the air, Watts' arm recoiling from the force. The hammer falls, its ominous hum silenced as it skids across the floor.

The Colonel, now disarmed, faces the Spartan with nothing but his fists and his fury. The two engage in a brutal ballet of punches and parries, each blow a testament to their respective training and enhancements. Chief's movements are precise, economical, while Watts fights with the wild ferocity of a cornered animal.

The fight moves through the corridor, a dance of destruction that leaves the walls scored and the floor littered with debris. Watts lands a heavy blow to Master Chief's helmet, a crack appearing in the visor. The Chief staggers but recovers, the damage igniting a spark of urgency within him.

With a fluid motion born of countless battles, Chief feints a punch, drawing Watts into an overextended swing. As the Colonel's guard drops, Chief delivers a series of rapid strikes, targeting the augmentations' weak points, the culmination of combat experience and strategic brilliance.

Watts, overwhelmed, begins to falter, his movements slowing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. John seizes the opportunity, landing a crushing blow through Watts' chest, the impact reverberating through the corridor as John's fist rips through the other-side of Watts' torso.

Watts' body slumps to the ground, dead. The Master Chief stands over him, the victor.

With the FOB's heart now silent, Master Chief proceeds to the children's holding area. The door, reinforced and locked, poses no obstacle as John peels the door off its hinges. Inside, the children cower, their eyes wide with fear and hope. They are safe now, their rescuer a towering figure standing amidst the smoke, his silhouette promising safety.

The return journey through the FOB is a silent procession, the night reclaiming the ruins of Chernobyl as the mission, though successful, leaves a heavy toll on the Chief; each life taken, necessary in the pursuit of a greater good, weighs upon him...

oooooo, I really like the fight scene!!!

CHILDREN HOLDING AREA?! The poor little guys, omg.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Chernobyl

...The year is 2550. Chernobyl, a desolate wasteland, echoes with the remnants of its haunted past, is now host to a new form of terror. The Insurrectionist FOB, a hive of scum and treachery, thrives amidst the ruins. Here, the Master Chief embarks on a perilous mission to rescue the kidnapped children of Lord Hood.

Dressed for death, the Chief's armor—a dark, winter-camo patterned MIRAGE suit fused with his MK-6 MJOLNIR helmet, his helmet's visor as crimson as blood—melds with the night. Each step is calculated, his form a specter sliding through the shadows, the compact MA2B assault rifle in his grip ready to unleash hell.

The assault begins with an unsuspecting Insurrectionist guard patrolling the perimeter, his steps casual, his demeanor unguarded. Without a sound, Chief closes the gap, his movements a blur. A swift, precise strike to the neck, and the guard crumples, a silent testament to the Chief’s deadly prowess. This is no mere rescue; it's a declaration of war.

Penetrating deeper into the FOB, Chief encounters increasing resistance. The air crackles with gunfire, the night shattered by the cacophony of battle. Insurrectionists, emboldened by their perceived strength, unleash a torrent of lead, but to Master Chief, they might as well be throwing stones.

A squad of rebels forms a barricade, their weapons trained on the narrow corridor ahead. The Chief, undeterred, rolls a grenade with pinpoint accuracy. The explosion is a concussive force of fury, metal and bodies tossed aside like ragdolls in the aftermath. Through the smoke and debris, he advances, his rifle barking death as he dispatches any survivors with merciless efficiency.

The corridors of the FOB become a maze of death, each turn a potential ambush, every room a battlefield. Master Chief navigates this labyrinth, his sensors and instincts guiding him, each engagement more brutal than the last. Insurrectionists, armed with makeshift shields and salvaged weapons, fight desperately but fall just as quickly.

Within the heart of the FOB, the air crackles with anticipation. The corridor narrows, funnelling into a makeshift arena where two titans are destined to collide. There, standing amidst the wreckage of his fallen comrades, is Colonel Robert Watts, a traitor to the UNSC turned Insurrectionist leader.

His physique, augmented in a crude mimicry of Spartan enhancements, gives him the stature of a behemoth, a grotesque parody of the super-soldier program. In his grip, a Brute's gravity hammer, its head crackling with volatile energy, ready to unleash devastation.

Opposite him stands Master Chief, a the real deal. His stance is calm, calculated, the very embodiment of lethal precision. Between them, the air hums with the imminent clash of ideologies made manifest in physical form.

Watts charges first, the gravity hammer swinging in a wide arc, a move designed to crush bone and pulverize armor. John sidesteps, the ground where he stood moments ago now a crater of shattered concrete. The Chief's counter is swift—a burst of gunfire aimed to stagger. But Watts, his body a testament to unsanctioned augmentations, barely flinches, pressing forward with the relentless determination of a man with nothing left to lose.

The hammer swings again, this time in a vertical descent, aimed to split the Chief in two. Chief rolls forward, closing the distance, his MA2B firing in controlled bursts. Watts staggers, the shots finding chinks in his makeshift armor, but the beast of a man roars, undeterred, swinging his hammer in a blind fury.

Chief, now within arm's reach, holsters his rifle, knowing this battle will be decided in close quarters. Watts attempts a backhand swing with the hammer, but Chief catches his arm, the muscles in his suit straining against the augmented might of the Insurrectionist. They struggle, a deadlock of force and will, until John delivers a knee to Watts' midsection, forcing him to buckle.

Freed from the hold, Chief steps back, watching as Watts recovers, the older man's breathing heavy, his movements tinged with desperation. The Chief knows this fight won't be won by brute strength alone.

Watts, fueled by rage, charges again, the hammer raised high. This time, Chief meets him head-on, his own augmented strength channelled into a single, devastating punch. The impact sends shockwaves through the air, Watts' arm recoiling from the force. The hammer falls, its ominous hum silenced as it skids across the floor.

The Colonel, now disarmed, faces the Spartan with nothing but his fists and his fury. The two engage in a brutal ballet of punches and parries, each blow a testament to their respective training and enhancements. Chief's movements are precise, economical, while Watts fights with the wild ferocity of a cornered animal.

The fight moves through the corridor, a dance of destruction that leaves the walls scored and the floor littered with debris. Watts lands a heavy blow to Master Chief's helmet, a crack appearing in the visor. The Chief staggers but recovers, the damage igniting a spark of urgency within him.

With a fluid motion born of countless battles, Chief feints a punch, drawing Watts into an overextended swing. As the Colonel's guard drops, Chief delivers a series of rapid strikes, targeting the augmentations' weak points, the culmination of combat experience and strategic brilliance.

Watts, overwhelmed, begins to falter, his movements slowing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. John seizes the opportunity, landing a crushing blow through Watts' chest, the impact reverberating through the corridor as John's fist rips through the other-side of Watts' torso.

Watts' body slumps to the ground, dead. The Master Chief stands over him, the victor.

With the FOB's heart now silent, Master Chief proceeds to the children's holding area. The door, reinforced and locked, poses no obstacle as John peels the door off its hinges. Inside, the children cower, their eyes wide with fear and hope. They are safe now, their rescuer a towering figure standing amidst the smoke, his silhouette promising safety.

The return journey through the FOB is a silent procession, the night reclaiming the ruins of Chernobyl as the mission, though successful, leaves a heavy toll on the Chief; each life taken, necessary in the pursuit of a greater good, weighs upon him...

[not-so-allegiant-general]

Resistance crushed First Order and established new government but since Hux had a few loyal Star Destroyers and people willing to follow him after Kylo Ren's death, he decided that he will show this "incompetent rebel scums" how to organise rebellion against government. And he did.

Just imagine the confusion of Resistance members when Hux suddenly gained supporters in the Senate. When he claimed Arkanis as official FO territory, achieved inviolability by Senate decision, showed up to give a speech and pointed out that they're restricting freedom and involving too much in the laws and politics of independent planets.

We all know he has an audacity to do that.