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PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

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prompt post one

+ All comments except fills should be posted anonymously.
+ All prompts should focus on TFA characters. You can't post OT or PT-only prompts.
+ One prompt per comment please.
+ You can request both kink and non-kink content
+ Crossovers, characters from the other media are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 movie in some way.
+ All prompt comments should begin with a pairing tag (eg Rey/Finn) or Gen for no pairing.
+ Use 'Any' when prompting for any pairing at all (eg Kylo/Any or Any/Any)
+ Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Poe/Other)
+ Warn for common triggers, please
+ NO PROMPTS FEATURING CHARACTERS UNDER 18 IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS.
+ don't hijack other people's prompts.
+ prompts should not exceed ~250 words.
+ also, while this is not really a rule I can enforce, please try to limit yourselves to fewer than 5 prompts per page.
+ reposting prompts is currently not allowed.
+ no prompts based on real life tragic events. e.g: 9/11 au, concentration camp au, etc
+ PLAY NICE

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OP here: art fill would be fantastic!

Hope no one minds a second fill :)

~

Finn's hands are around Poe's wrists before the door is even shut behind them, and Poe's pretty sure the catcall he hears is Snap, that the "He's still gotta be able to sit tomorrow!" is Jessika, and that the burst of laughter that steadily gets quieter as they finally move away is Karé.

Finn doesn't answer any of them, just hustles Poe backwards until he's against the wall. Finn's holding his hands above his head, the pressure of his fingers rough against Poe's skin, and Poe wonders if there'll be a bracelet of red around his wrists tomorrow, branding Finn's name into Poe's skin in reds and purples.

"I wanted to bend you over and fuck you in the lounge," Finn murmurs, his lips against Poe's neck, the hot breath across his skin sending a shiver down Poe's spine.

And there was a time Finn would never have said that to him, a time when Finn was embarrassed by the streak of hot possession that ran through him. But not now. Not now he knows that Poe likes it, that murmuring words of want and desire and mine against Poe's body have Poe shuddering in Finn's grip.

"Wanted to remind you who you belong to."

Because Poe knows that, sometimes, there's a part of Finn that darkens with the easy touches that go between the pilots, darkens as he drapes himself over Jessika's lap, or twirls his fingers in Snap's hair.

Poe knows when that part of Finn is near the surface, can feel it in each frantic kiss against his neck, with each hard thrust into his body. And he knows that Finn tries to bury it, tries to lighten his touch and pull back on the urge to tug Poe closer to him. Because there was a time before, when Finn wasn't Finn, and his life was order and command and structure. But Poe never wants Finn to feel like he has to hold back, not here, not with him. So if he reaches out to his team a little more and a little easier when these times roll around, then he knows what he's getting into.

"Why don't you show me now," Poe says, biting at his lower lip as Finn's teeth nip at his ear.

Finn steps back, and Poe keeps his arms above his head even though Finn's hands have already released him. And Poe wonders what Finn sees when he looks at him, wonders if Finn sees someone who would willingly drop to his knees for him. Because Poe would. Not because he has to, but because he wants to. Because of all the people Poe has been to his knees for, Finn is the only one who acts like he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve anything Poe is willing to give him, even though he so obviously craves it. And for that Poe would be on his knees every day for the rest of his life.

Finn's gaze trails over Poe's body, and it feels like a palpable touch against Poe's skin. Feels like a thousand fingers pressing against him, making his skin too hot and too tight. His cock is throbbing behind his trousers, and the "Please--" is already sitting on his tongue when Finn finally speaks.

"Strip."

It takes Poe three attempts to undo his trousers because his fingers are shaking too badly. He can hear the rush of blood running through him, and the need to have Finn inside him grows with each passing heartbeat.

Finally, he's naked, clothes and boots kicked to one side in a discarded pile to be dealt with later. A smile crosses Finn's lips as he reaches out, wraps his fingers around Poe's wrist and tugs him closer. And Finn hasn't bothered undressing, the fabric of his clothes rough against Poe's skin as he holds him close.

There's a hand in the small of Poe's back, and Finn's fingers are tracing over his skin in patterns that feel like they should be words, but Poe's head is swimming too much for him to make out anything beyond the basic touch.

Poe's wrist is released, Finn's thumb caressing the inner skin before he lifts his hand to Poe's mouth. His fingers move over Poe's lips, and Poe can't stop from opening his mouth, from letting the two fingers slide inside. He can taste salt on Finn's skin, and the tang of the retsa they'd both been drinking in the lounge. He swipes his tongue over Finn's fingertips, grinning around the digits in his mouth when Finn's breathing becomes that little bit heavier.

"Get me wet." Finn's voice is low, careful, like he's having to think through each word.

Poe's tongue slips over Finn's fingers, his teeth grazing lightly over the skin. And he's good at using his mouth, always has been. Finn pulls in a sharp breath as Poe nips at his fingers, and for a moment, Poe thinks that Finn's going to pull his fingers away, going to push him to his knees and feed him his cock. But the moment passes, and all Finn does is press his fingers further into Poe's mouth, pressing to the back of his throat until Poe is gagging around them.

"You'd suck me right now if I wanted you to, wouldn't you."

And Poe would answer if his mouth wasn't full, would stutter out a yes. Because he loves being on his knees with Finn's cock in his mouth, gloriously thick and heavy on his tongue. Loves the power he has when he takes Finn apart with teeth and tongue and lips, until Finn is grabbing at his hair and emptying himself down Poe's throat. And if he can't answer with words, then he'll answer with actions, moving his head back as his tongue slowly slides up one finger and sweeps over the tip.

Finn groans, and Poe can't tell if it's a curse or his name. He pulls his fingers out of Poe's mouth, and they're shining, spit slick in the light of Poe's quarters. The hand against the small of his back presses him even closer as Finn reaches down, and Poe can't stop the moan as Finn's fingers push into his ass.

His fingers dig into Finn's jacket, knuckles white as he grips the fabric, shifting his legs, spreading them further apart as Finn slowly fucks his fingers in and out. And it's too much and not enough. Because he wants Finn inside him, but not just like this.

"Fuck me." The words break in the middle as Finn twists his fingers, spreading them inside of Poe.

Finn doesn't reply, doesn't do anything except keep fucking Poe with his fingers. And Poe is hard against Finn, precome soaking into Finn's trousers as the fabric drags against the head of Poe's cock. Poe's on his tiptoes, and he can feel his pleasure building in his belly, can feel it sitting inside him just out of reach. All he needs is Finn's fingers on that one spot, pressing against him and--

He whines as Finn pulls his fingers out, his ass feeling empty and wanting. He's about to say something, about to demand that Finn gets his fingers back inside him right the fuck now, but he swallows the words as Finn pushes him over to the bed.

Poe's dick twitches with each step towards the bed, with each gentle push Finn gives him. The back of his legs hit the frame of the bed, and Finn's hands are around his arms before Poe can drop down. Finn turns him, half lifting Poe off the floor before pushing him face down onto the bed.

Poe's arm reaches out, his fingers sinking into the softness of the pillow at the top of the bed at the same time as fingers push back inside him. Poe arches up, presses back against Finn, because he wants more, wants it now.

And Poe doesn't know if he spoke, doesn't know if it was words or a sound or just the way he pushed back into Finn's touch, but Finn's fingers are gone from his body, leaving him bereft. There's the sound of rustling, of clothes being opened, and when Poe looks over his shoulder it's to see Finn rubbing slick over his cock. The jar's half empty, already used so many times from where Finn has slid into Poe's body, from where he's opened Poe up around his fingers.

Finn hasn't taken his clothes off, hasn't done anything beyond tugging his trousers down to mid-thigh, enough to get his cock out, get it slicked up.

"Come on," Poe urges, because he wants Finn in him, needs Finn in him. There's been an itch under his own skin for days now, bubbling under the surface in a way that even flying didn't help. (Because sometimes when he gets like this, he just takes to the skies. And he knows that the techs say he shouldn't, but he has to. He has to because it helps ease the crawling across his body when he's pushed back in his seat and the planet is speeding by underneath him. His hands will be on the flight controls and his cock will be hard under his flight suit and he'll fly faster and faster until it washes over him, until his cock is twitching and sticky, the scent of his own release mixing in the air with sweat and the burn of the electricals.)

There's nothing for long moments, like Finn is drawing it out, and then the heat of Finn's body covers him, clothes against skin and the insistent nudge of Finn's cock at Poe's ass.

Poe's fingers flex, digging into the pillow as Finn pushes into him. And even though he's taken Finn's fingers already, even though he's slicked and stretched, Poe still feels it as his body opens around Finn's cock.

Finn enters him in a slow, inexorable push, filling every part of Poe until it feels like there's nothing else inside him apart from Finn. And this, this is what Poe wants, what he needs. Finn's weight on top of him, solid and reassuring, grounding him with his touch.

"Fuck me." The words are half demand, half plea. Because that itch is still in him, still pricking at him in a way that makes Poe want to run, to leave, to fly.

But he's held there, not just by Finn's weight above him, but by the murmured words, mouthed against the back of his neck.

I've got you.

It's another heartbeat, two, three, before Finn starts to move, before he draws his cock out of Poe's ass until just the head is inside. And if his entry was slow, then this is even slower, pulling himself from Poe's body in an unhurried crawl, until Poe is ready to roll them over, to fuck himself on Finn's cock until they're both coming. Because he wants it harder, faster, rougher. He wants Finn to fuck him until it's the only thing he can think about.

Only, maybe Finn knows that. Maybe he knows Poe better than Poe knows himself, because Finn is holding himself steady, his lips brushing a kiss over Poe's shoulder before he moves, slamming back into Poe's body in one hard thrust.

And, fuck, yes, this is what Poe needs. Finn over him, fucking him, cleaving into Poe's body in a way that has the bed knocking against the wall in a steady tattoo. Poe's hard, his cock trapped between the bed and his stomach, soaking the sheet beneath him with precome. He moves his hand down, because if he can just get his fingers around himself, just stroke and touch in the way that he needs to, then he can ride the pleasure that's curling in his belly like a ball.

But Finn's fingers wrap around his wrist before Poe's hand even gets close to his cock, pulling it back to the pillow and pinning Poe's arm there.

"You take what I give you." Finn's words are low, measured, and when Poe tries to tug his hand away all Finn does is hold on tighter. "Let me."

Poe tenses as he thinks about fighting it, wonders if Finn would let him go, or if he'd hold him so tight bruises would bloom on his skin under Finn's fingers. (And Poe thinks that maybe one night they'll have that. Finn, holding him down as he pushes and struggles against Finn's strength. Holding him down as he pounds into Poe's ass. His grip on Poe's hips so sharp that the finger shaped bruises don't fade for days. But not now. Not tonight.)

Poe sinks back down, the soft That's it-- brushing across his skin, chased by the kisses Finn lays across him. And through it all Finn is still fucking him, hard and fast, and on an angle that's just not right, just sliding over what Poe needs.

"Please--" The word drops easily from his lips. Because Poe's begged in much worse circumstances than this, begged for far less. (His mind skitters away from thoughts of a grey room and a figure in black, skitters away from a cold crawl of pain across his thoughts.)

And there's a stutter in Finn's thrusts, a beat where he stops and shifts, and then--

"Fuck--"

Colours run behind Poe's eyes as Finn's cock hits that place inside him, white hot pleasure washing over him with each thrust, now angled so perfectly. His cock is throbbing under him, and it feels like that moment when the hyderdrive kicks in, when his body's in perfect tune with the galaxy and the stars are streaking past like lines. And it's there, on the edge, and all Poe has to do is reach out, his fingers brushing the edge as Finn's cock pushes into him again and again and--

Poe yells as he comes, his orgasm spilling out, soaking the sheet and slicking over his belly. His body clenches down on Finn, and he can feel Finn's forehead against the back of his neck, can feel the hot breath across his skin and the muttered out words as Finn thrusts once, twice, before he groans deeply and a perfect kind of heat splashes inside Poe.

Long moments pass before Finn pulls out, rolling to the side and against the wall in a bed that's barely big enough for the two of them. Poe should move, the sheet under him is wet and unpleasant, and he's pretty sure it's going to stick to his body if he stays here. But there's a delicious throbbing in his ass, muscles telling him how well they've been used, and there's a warm lethargy spreading through him, pulling him towards sleep.

There's silence in the air, broken only by the sound of them breathing, until careful fingers run through Poe's hair.

"Mine."

The word is a bare murmur, almost too low for Poe to even hear it. But he does. He hears it and can't stop the smile from crossing his lips. Because if he's Finn's (and he is), then Finn's his, as well.

And between them, the galaxy doesn't stand a chance.

This was amazing, thank you for filling this it's literally just perfect! I hope you fill better!

I literally laughed out loud!

Oh gosh thank you as well this was so wonderful!

masturbation, accidental voyeurism

preferrably rey/any lady

The third time it happens, Poe is not good at it.

The first part still happens the same. They kiss, wet and hot and thrilling, and excitement curls low in Poe's belly like it always does. He reaches for Finn, pulling him close even though they're already as close as they can get, and every shaky reaction he can pull from Finn's breath and Finn's throat and Finn's body sets his blood on fire and goes straight to his groin. They've gotten more and more practice at this part, and it gets better each time.

Their clothes come off next, and that's familiar too. Finn likes taking Poe's clothes off and he does it like he's unwrapping a present every time, but he likes shimmying out of his own clothes instead of letting Poe do it. He's un-self-conscious, and although dancing doesn't come naturally to him sometimes he'll put on a bit of show for Poe.

And then they're on each other, naked bodies pressing tight against each other, hands grasping at shoulders and backs and cocks and asses, and before Poe knows it Finn's on his knees with his face buried at Poe's crotch, nosing at his erection. Finn looks up through his eyelashes at him and Poe's mind goes blank.

And then he realizes that Finn's look is expectant--he's waiting.

"Oh! Um....uh....take that big nasty cock?" Poe says, his voice going up at the end like it's a question. Not sexy. Come on Dameron. "Take that big nasty cock in your dirty mouth, you whore," he says.

Finn giggles, which isn't encouraging, but he does at least put Poe's cock in his mouth, so Poe is going to take that as a reward for trying. It's his first time trying to call Finn names, after all, Finn hopefully isn't expecting Poe to be an expert right away.

They don't make much noise besides grunting and moaning and, on Finn's part, slurping, for the next little while. When Poe buries his hands in Finn's hair and pulls, Finn makes an appreciative sound, so Poe pulls harder. Eventually he pulls Finn off him entirely and says, "How about I give you something you really want, you...you whore slut?"

"Ooh, what do I really want?" Finn asks breathlessly, before giggling again.

"You want to fuck me," Poe says with confidence, because at least he knows that much is true.

Finn shivers and nods eagerly, and Poe gets himself prepped quickly. He tries to keep up with more name calling while he fingers himself, telling Finn he's a great big whore slut because his mother is also a whore slut and it's inherited down through the bloodline, and he's so eager for Poe's hole because he's a dirty badger who likes burying himself in filthy holes.

Finn is laughing helplessly by the time he's entering Poe, and Poe is honestly a little bit put out because he's trying his best here, okay?

"I know, I know, I appreciate it!" Finn says, kissing Poe. "I'm sorry I'm laughing! I've never been called a badger before! I'm not even sure it's an insult."

"Well I've never done this before, so it's going to take me a bit of practice before I figure out what you like," Poe says.

"Trust me," Finn says, punctuating what he says with sharp thrusts of his hips that make Poe gasp and his eyes roll back. "I will help you practice. Lots of practice."

Poe likes the sound of that. They rut against each other and, just when Finn's climaxing, Poe gasps, "Oh, look at you, you love this so much it's like this is all you're good for," and apparently Finn really likes that because he's keening helplessly and driving so hard into Poe that it makes him sees stars. So Poe is pretty sure it won't take long to get good at this.

*

I wasn't totally happy with this fill so I decided to work on it a little more. I cleaned it up and decided on a real ending. Thank you guys for all your praise.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5774569

I don't even have words to express how perfect this is and how much I was laughing

+100000

Does the OP have any preference for when they leave the First Order? Like, for example, if they fucked off before the destruction of the Hosnian system? Because otherwise all I can see is an immediate death sentence for the General who, you know, killed like 5 planets and billions of people.

Ah! Thank you so much, I'm so glad you loved it. <3

Sorry for the wait, guys! It has been (and continues to be) been a rough week on my end. My choice of Hux's first name was heavily influenced by some comments on this prompt: http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=909114#cmt909114
___

By the time he's nineteen, Hux's approach to dealing with other people has mellowed out to what Leia considers an acceptable level.

"I'd rather be respected than feared," he explains, which is an improvement. He follows this by saying that he'd still rather be feared than loved, but Leia can't fault him for that too much. (She feels much the same way in a professional context.) His coworkers in tactics and communications don't actively dislike him and he's good at his job. For a while, that's enough.

When he proves that he's more than just competent, Leia is the first to ask him to be on her personal staff. It's also a preemptive move to keep anyone else from bringing him up on charges of insubordination. Technically speaking, he doesn't have clearance to be in the meeting in the first place, and he definitely doesn't have the authority to first disagree with and then try to shout down Admiral Ackbar.

"That was very stupid," she says afterward, "and you're not going to do it again. That's an order." Hux is tight-lipped. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I would rather spend a few days in the brig than send a dozen pilots to their deaths," Hux says sharply, and drops her gaze. He steadies himself and looks back at her before continuing. "There is a lack of understanding among high command of how the First Order operates. The pilots, the communications agents, the saboteurs -- the people in more direct contact with them -- have a very different view of things. The First Order is not the Empire, General Organa, and the older commanders who served in the Rebel Alliance have a tendency to forget that."

"Well said, Hux," Leia says. "I want you in my briefings from now on." He looks startled but nods. "But you're not sitting in on any meetings until you're at least a colonel. Understood, lieutenant?" He salutes.

With one crisis averted, there is almost immediately another crisis, because of course there is. This time it comes a week later in the form of a visit from Ben.

"--been here five years and I've never seen you," Hux's voice floats down the hallway to her office. "I'm not about to let a warrior-monk with no identification waltz in to see General Organa."

"I'm her son," another voice responds irritably. Familiar, but deeper than she remembered.

"The holo on her desk is probably about ten years old," Hux says. "Anyone could claim to be her son." It is Ben, of course. Leia could feel him and Luke approaching before they even hit atmosphere. Unannounced but not unwelcome. She had meant to meet them at the hangar, but then other duties had intervened. She stands from her desk now and stretches.

"I've been back in the last five years and I haven't seen you," Ben says. "For all I know, you might be infiltrating the base." The answering silence is troubling. Leia has a moment of vertigo as she steps out the door and has to pause and catch her breath. "Mother," she hears Ben say, and turns in time to see Hux fall to the floor. Dead weight, unconscious.

"Ben," she says. "What are you doing?"

"Master Luke has something urgent to discuss with you," Ben says.

"I meant what are you doing with my aide," she says.

"Oh," Ben says. "That. I was trying to scan his mind to make sure he wasn't lying."

"Trying?" Leia echoes. Ben frowns. "Bring him to medical and send your uncle in to see me. We're going to discuss this later."

"They won't be able to do anything for him," Ben says. "He should be fine when he wakes up."

"I still don't want my staff lying on the floor for people to trip on them," Leia says. "Medical, Ben." He scowls. Leia turns and marches back to her office. Once the door is closed, she puts her head in her hands, sighing deeply.

"He's making progress," Luke says when she brings it up. "I wouldn't have brought him with me otherwise."

"But?" Leia prompts.

"But I don't think he's well-suited to teaching, and I don't think he's going to figure out his own path by staying with me forever," Luke says. "He wants to help you, believe it or not. And if that doesn't work out..." Luke trails off, spreading his hands wide. "There's a whole galaxy out there. And he's always welcome to come back and help me." He reaches across the desk and takes her hand. Reassurance, maybe; apology, more likely.

"He's off to a great start," Leia grumbles. "Prying into someone's mind. Isn't that dangerous?"

"Not if he was only reading surface thoughts," Luke says. "He's good at that. With a little more training, he could probably pluck thoughts right out of someone's head. But it's not something I'd encourage. There's a lot of temptation there." Leia nods. It could be useful; it might not be ethical.

There's a kind of comfort just in having Luke so close. Missing Ben is a sudden sharp pang whenever she thinks of him; missing Luke is a constant low ache that she barely notices until it's gone. They are quiet as they walk to the infirmary together, steps in perfect sync.

The infirmary itself is not quiet.

"Ensure-The-Rule-Of-Law Hux," Ben says. "No wonder you go by just your family name, lieutenant."

"And here I thought the Jedi were meant to be even-handed in their dealings," Hux says tartly. "Consider my misapprehension corrected: the Jedi are without respect for anyone, including themselves!"

"It's like looking into a mirror, isn't it?" Luke says with deceptive mildness. Leia chooses not to smack him upside the head. She is, after all, a tactician. She waits until he tries to pass by her in a narrow doorway and elbows him for the sake of plausible deniability.

"You know, I don't think Poe Dameron ever grew out of his crush on you," she says nonchalantly as he pauses, wincing, because an elbow to the ribs feels like letting him off too easy. "I'll be sure to tell him you're around." Luke's answering expression is both thunderous and panicked. She had always wanted a sibling growing up, and so had he -- who can blame them for making up for lost time?

working on this right away, nonnie! this author anon just wants to know if you have any particular bonuses you'd like to see included, or more importantly squicks you'd like to see excluded

Hux is attention starved.

Finn realizes it within the first hour they spend together, the three of them in the hanger, first watching Poe go over his X-wing as he does every morning, and then going up for some practice runs while he and Finn watch. He starts by constantly asking questions in a shy, hesitant way, as if he's waiting for someone to demand his silence. He realizes about a half hour in that Poe is more than willing to answer, and Finn is too when he can, and his mouth runs and runs, his eyes wide and excited as he soaks up everything they can tell him like a sponge.

He asks about the X-wing, and then what Poe's missions are like, and then how Finn escaped the First Order. He asks about Poe's family, and Yavin 4, and a million questions about BB-8 and how to speak droid. He asks about this new base, about D'Qar, about where they fit all the new recruits and how they train them. By the time he tires himself out of questions it's time for lunch, which results in a brand new slew of them, mostly about what the food actually is (something Finn can't begrudge him on, since he was the same when he first arrived.)

He settles on a little bit of everything, the cooks charmed and amused by this tiny version of a man who is all but a murderous psychopath to them loudly proclaiming that everything is the best he's ever had and thanking them profusely for making it for him. When he goes back for seconds he returns to his seat between Poe and Finn with three times the helpings of chocolate pudding they normally get and a double order of fries made of the blue potatoes native to this planet.

Snap and Jessika, who had since arrived and met Finn and Poe's charge with awkward bemusement, just stare as he scarfs down what someone twice his size shouldn't be able to finish.

“You're gonna have to slow down buddy,” Snap says around a fork full of rice, “you're gonna make yourself sick.”

“I've never had something like this,” He says, his eyes wide as he wipes the pudding on his lips with his sleeve. He misses some, and Finn takes his napkin to get the rest from the corners of his mouth.

Jess looks up from her tray, “They don't have pudding on your planet?”

“If they do I'm not allowed. Father insists I eat the same diet they do at the academy so I'll be ready when I start next year, so I don't get sugar or much salt. I've never had anything chocolate before.”

Jess and Snap look at him with a mix of horror and pity at that, and Jess nudges her carrot cake forward for him to eat.

He decides he likes that best, and declares Jessika is his new favorite friend for sharing.

“What are you doing?”

Rey looked up from the part in her hand, to where Phasma had hopped up to sit a few feet away, her face masked in the same cool, unenthused look she'd held since Rey accidentally brought her here.

“It's part of Snap's X-wing,” She explained, “ Or what was his X-wing. After it took a hit he's been flying the only spare we have and it's been all hands on deck to help get his done so he doesn't ruin another. Most of the wiring is older and fried now so it needs to be stripped out.”

“Is that not boring?”

Rey shrugged, “I don't mind it. It's nice, methodical work. Plus, anything is better than meditation for hours and hours on end with Luke.”

“Ah, yes. Where did you find Luke Skywalker, anyway?”

Rey pauses, raising an eyebrow at the blonde. She let out a sigh in response, running her fingers through her short hair. She had made her way through a few data chips in the library during lunch that dealt with First Order business, with the entire incident of the Starkiller base particularly fascinating occurrence. So much of it was classified, though, and unusable.

“I suppose I will never get anything useful to our cause while here.”

“You don't even know if you'll retain your memories when you go back. Anyway, the First Order isn't worth it, Phasma.”

Phasma feels genuinely offended by that. “The cause is everything.”

“Ben and Hux don't seem to be think so.”

Phasma made a face.

“They are young and weak, and will learn that the only way is the First Order's way.”

Rey rolled her eyes, carefully stripping out a few of the shredded wires before reached for the higher gauge she intended to replace them with, “I'm sure that way of thinking gets you a lot of friends, doesn't it?”

She looked away, watching where Finn sat with Hux on his lap while Poe puttered around with one of his crew's X-wing. Hux must've said something because he bolted up and ran, Poe chasing after him with his greasy hands. She could hear Finn's laughter and Hux's giggles when Poe caught him up in his arms all the way across the hanger, his droid beeping at the both of them.

“I don't need friends.”

Rey sighed, “I didn't think I did, either, growing up on Jakku. But coming here, having Finn and Poe and Jessika and the whole lot of these crazies, I can't imagine how I survived in solitude now.”

Phasma doesn't respond, instead choosing to watch her as she continued fixing the compressor's wiring.

Rey finishes in silence, setting it aside and before retrieving another part. Just as Phasma gets bored of watcing her and is about to jump down from her perch, a small group of children her own age approach her, all of them looking nervous.

“Ask her!” One of the girls whispers, shoving the boy forward. He's maybe a year younger than Phasma, though slightly taller and more gangly.

“Um, you trained with the First Order?”

Phasma raises an eyebrow, “Yes?”

“Well, uh, we're playing Troopers versus Pilots, and we were wondering if you wanna be on our team? The older kids always call being Pilots and they're better than us at this mostly 'cause they're trained a little bit with tracking and stuff, so we figure since you actually know what Stormtroopers do and they don't, we'd be able crush them, easy.”

She tilts her head to the side, confused, “You want me to help you crush the resistance... in a game?”

“Well yeah,” The girl who'd shoved the boy forward says, “I mean our blasters aren't real or anything. We wear wristbands with sensors so when we get hit they just light up and refuse to fire and we're out, but still. It'd be pretty cool for us to destroy them.”

A slow smile spreads itself across Phasma's face at the thought. Crushing the resistance with her tactics, even just for play, was something she could do, and might actually be amusing.

And hey, Rey was telling her to make friends, wasn't she?

“Well, let's go then.”

When Phasma enters the dining hall that night, her head held high with a toy blaster strapped to her back and a gaggle of victorious yet muddy and sweaty 10 year olds behind her, Rey has bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing.

somehow this turned out being 2,887 words of kylux. i don't even know if i should apologize for that. just take it. take it away from me. the intro goes on a little long, but there's porn down there, trust me. also, definitely rated explicit!

--------

They’ve been doing this for too long. Hux is fantastic as his maths, he always has been, and even he can’t completely keep count of how many times he’s had Kylo Ren of the Knights of Ren in his bed. It seems like an event one wouldn’t easily forget, but all the time they’ve had merge in his brain and suture into just a mess of memories that keep him conscious of the fact that he’s been with Ren many times.

It started with fierce glares and sharp words, and it’s developed into Hux leaving purple and red marks against Ren’s sun-thirsty skin. They bite and they scratch, and Hux would like to think it’s merely the next level of any relationship where hatred ran so deep. Their relationship was just raising ranks, from silent glances to painful kisses. It’s the way things work, and just that.

But Hux knows that can’t be true.

Sometimes, after they finish, and they watch each other heave breaths back into their chests, left sore and used by the other’s hands, they’ll meet eyes and smile. Hux doesn’t know what to make of it, what to think, but he avoids the idea that they’re anything but enemies, and pushes away thoughts of what it’s like to leave gentle kisses against pink, swollen lips as he leaves the bed to attend his duties.

That’s not the way it always is, that wave of gentleness. Rather, they will it to be as rough as they can make it, they aim their kisses to bruise, they touch each other’s bodies like they’re conquering star systems, like each other’s bodies were destined to be under their command. They fucked like it was a fight, but finally on a level they were equal in. Ren obviously has the physical prowess on his side, if it was a purely physical fight, Hux would be slaughtered within seconds. But Hux is sharp with his words, but more accurate mentally than Ren and his echoes of fairy tales are.

Like this, they are equal, though. Equally demanding, equally harsh, equally rough, and in those moments of weakness and moments of soft, they are equally soft. It feels like what both of them have been waiting for their whole life; a fair fight.

Usually, it happens after arguments, that, after getting into each other’s faces, they’ll end up going those few inches closer and retreat to one of their quarters. Not always, though, and this time, it is different.

Hux is at the end of his rope.

All of his plans have fallen through. This has never happened before, he’s always been precise, always worked through what he’s needed in calculated, perfect ways. Things happen for him, because he makes them happen, and now they have failed in every way possible. There are barely even remnants for him to build new plans, everything is destroyed, like the destructions of the Death Stars his father had told him of.

The entire ship knows of his failure. They are surprised he is not dead, that the Supreme Leader did not steal the breath from his lungs and leave him for the sanitation corps to clean up the mess.

He, too, is surprised.

But he is alive. The only way he can be surprised is by being alive, and he still lives. He tries not to linger on the closeness of his death, just power forward, create new plans and rise from the dust before the Resistance can prepare for them, rebuild his command within the order. He tries to ignore updates on Ren’s condition, tries to not let the whisper of the Stormtroopers he commands get to him. They have never doubted him before, they’ve been programmed not to doubt, but the immenseness of his failure has broken all that programming.

He must linger on it. He can’t rid the images that trace through his mind, the General left staring at the dark ceiling of his quarters and studying the way the metal of the steps in the staircase of Sector 3 is worn with the heavy use it gets.

He knows Ren is hurt. Hux has worried about that, too, he recalls the fear stricken into his heart on learning that he was wounded, and remembers the cold trip he makes with the tracker signal, seeking out the man’s body in the snow. The Knight of Ren was not dead, but he may of well wished he was. He had also failed, though not as completely as Hux. He killed remnants of his own life, but let his new enemy live and deal him damage.

Ren is hurt. It is not the right time to require his services. And yet. Hux needs him. He finds himself thinking about it all too much. He needs the feeling of having it done escaped his system, so he can think of things other than the look on Ren’s face when he spurts white on his hand. He needs to do it, finish it, and then let his relaxed muscles set on the next task. But he needs Ren.

He manages to hold off his need for days. More days than he would like. And then, when he gets news that Ren is no longer in medical, he feels relief--not that the man is closer to health, but rather that Hux can dispel his tension on him finally. (It has nothing to do with him being glad is in good health. Nothing at all. Shit, he’s really into this deep. He needs to leave it behind. There is no such thing as making love in the galaxy, only breeding and fucking.)

He sees Ren walking about the ship, but he manages to hold himself off. Waits. And then finally, when Hux’s own schedule allows, he sends for him via communicator. He then retreats to his own room to meet him there.

Hux is already removing his gloves when Ren enters his quarters.

“I presume you already know the purpose of why I sent for you?” Hux says, tossing his gloves onto his desk, and then turning his attention completely to Ren.
Ren nods and moves further away from the door, and closer to Hux and the light of his dim quarters. “The day I got out of medical. I’m surprised you didn’t try to get yourself into my bed in the middle of the medical bay.” Hux finds himself nearly laughing at that. He’s lucky he doesn’t, they don’t need to be sharing smiles, it’s unnecessary. “I’d rather not rip my stitches, so I don’t think this will be the experience you seek.”

Ren? Not wanting to do something destructive? He may be as sensitive about his defeat as Hux was about with his own.

“You barely need to move your hips. Let me, just.” Hux says, trailing off as he gets down to his knees, his hands so automatically and familiarly coming to the fasteners of Ren’s trousers. He usually does this with the man’s robes already removed, but they’re not even in the bed yet. Hux knows that Ren can tell how desperate Hux is for this, he can probably feel it in his force or taste it in the air or something insensible like that.

“Look at you.” Ren says, and of course he can’t fucking keep his hands out of Hux’s hair. He probably gets off on it, messing Hux’s hair, he does it so often. “Want me to take my robes off?”

“No. This will be quick, I swear it.” Hux says, getting Ren’s cock from his trousers finally, and touching him in ungloved pale hands.

“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or not. You know the Force helps me last longer.” Ren says, and of course it does, the jerk. He claims that so often, but Hux finds the man coming only a few seconds after him on most occasions.

“You’re tense, you’re stressed, you want this. You won’t last long. You’re desperate.” Hux says, even if he wants to say those words to himself.

Ren seems to pick up on that, an extreme gesture for the oblivious man. “I don’t think you’re in the position to say anything about that.”

Rather than saying anything back, Hux takes the head of Ren’s cock into his mouth. This wasn’t a verbal battle, but a sexual one. That’s how they fought things out. He could destroy him verbally so quickly, but he doesn’t, that’s not the way things worked between them, not anymore. Their battles were both verbal and physical. (And maybe even emotional.) They were sexual.

“That’s good.” He faintly hears above him, and Ren starts taking his gloves off to really mess with Hux’s hair without damaging the leather with hair gel.

Hux must admit, he’s gotten good at this. This oral sex thing. He had his own sexual awakening during his education, and played with many boys and girls alike, but he never learned how to really tear sensation away from a man until Kylo Ren.

He sucks him off as thoroughly as he does anything else, despite enjoying himself. He presses kisses up the sides of the organ, stroking him all the way through. He looks up at Ren at all the right times, showing him the “wide blue eyes” Ren talked about loving to see glassy and clouded so often.

When he presses close into him, his face brushes against the fabric of Ren’s robes, and when he presses even closer, he can feel the teeth of his trousers biting against his skin.

“You think I’m the one that needs this?” Ren says, above him, though his voice is a little muted with how wide Hux has his jaw open. “Look at you, I’ve never seen you so desperate to have me in your mouth.” Ren’s now ungloved hand moves to his hair, and pulls it taut, shifting the positioning of Hux’s face so he looks up at him.

The blank, intimidating face of the mask stares back down at him.

And still, Hux takes him further into his mouth, using his tongue to lick wide stripes down his cock and give particular attention to the tip. His hands try to stabilize himself, and come to Kylo’s thighs, though the robes intercept him, and he ends up fisting his hands in the fabric, tugging on it. The fabric of his robes were less comfortable than he had ever expected, it was rough and had less of a thread count than he expected. Fuckin’ monk.

“Who would’ve thought it, the first in command of the First Order dropping to his knees for my dick, you’re practically drooling. This really makes you feel that much better? Brendol Hux Jr, professional slut.” Hux tries to roll his eyes at Ren’s half-assed attempt at dirty talk. Within times of recent, Ren was the only person Hux had been with. Kylo Ren, none of the other six. Only Kylo. So, he didn’t really think that made him a slut. So, what? It helped him relax to see how much of the young force-users cock he could fit down his throat. It was normal.

Ren had choked him before, both with the force and with his own slim, large hands. When they kissed against doors, or against the mattress, Ren would occasionally grasp the long column of Hux’s neck and squeeze.
Not now, the angle was all wrong, but still Hux likes to feel the breath stolen from his lungs, likes to challenge himself and see how long he can keep himself down there, how long he can go without gagging on Kylo Ren’s dick.

He pulls off panting, spittle and precome dripping from his lips as he gets his breath back, aimlessly pressing sucking kisses against the skin in front of him. He lets one of the hands tangled in Ren’s robes stroke down his own body, and he undoes his own trousers, taking his dick out and stroking himself. He wanted this to happen fast, didn’t want Ren to bother with him after, so they wouldn’t need to deal with one of those terribly intimate moments. It was best if he got himself off.

He tries taking Ren back into his throat again, and starts beginning a rhythm, pulling back and forth, ignoring the sounds that his own throat made.

He hears Ren’s breath get heavier behind his mask.
He hates that damn mask. It doesn’t look good, it looks as messy as Ren’s lightsaber, when he knows the man is better than that. Much better. He tries to look rougher than he is, more uncontrolled than he actually is.

...What the hell is Hux thinking? Nothing is more uncontrollable than Ren. He must recall the expensive systems Ren cut to pieces without a second thought just because he was feeling “angry.” Maybe the messy workmanship of the mask fits him perfectly.
He likes to see Ren’s face when he comes, then. He looks perfectly unguarded and pathetic then.

Then, he feels Ren thrust, and he has to pull off, coughing. His hands come up to his mouth, and he wipes the spit from his mouth with the back of his hands. “Warn me the next time y--”

“Are you jacking off?” Ren demands, cutting Hux’s words off completely. Uncontrollable.

“Technically, yes, I…” Hux begins, and then the breathing from the mask comes out so much heavier, and he can nearly see Ren’s cock throb in front of his eyes. The man takes his head between his hands, and Hux legs his mouth fall open, taking Ren’s cock in his mouth when the young Sith Lord begins thrusting in.

He always forgets just how passionate it gets between them. Recalling it is never does it justice, this is completely different than anything else. Ren gets this dark look in his eye (behind that mask, at least) and goes fucking psycho. It must be some kind of Dark Side thing, but it’s like the hatred he feels breeds this immense power in him that makes him absolutely slam Hux. Hux knows he’s only human, and at some point the man is going to push him beyond a point, but the roughness and power behind it all makes him spill over his own hand, climaxing earlier than he intended to.

Ren continues to have his fun with him, until he pulls out, and starts stroking himself with his own bare hands, releasing directly onto Hux’s face.

A moment or two passes, the two regaining breath, and yet Hux’s voice comes out scratched and sore. “...Did you really just cumshot me?”

“Yeah, and it totally fits.” Ren says, and finally releases the clasps of his helmet, his face sweaty and flushed underneath. “Looks good on you.”

Hux’s face is the picture of disdain when he brings his hand up to his face, trying to wipe away the white substance. He finds, unfortunately, that he’s just released into that hand, and it makes his predicament even worse. He shrugs, and then starts wiping his hand off in Kylo Ren’s black robes. “And it looks even better on your clothes.”

Ren gives him an upset look, surprised even. “Those were washed only yesterday!”

“If you want to stink of sex for the rest of the week, you’re welcome not to wash them again.” Hux says as he finishes cleaning his face. (For now, he still needs a shower. Disgusting. He felt sticky.) He tucks himself back into his trousers, and fastens himself back up, standing up.

He stares at the unmasked face of Kylo Ren.
He looked young, always, too young. His lips too pink, eyes too innocent. Hux didn’t like it. They were virtually the same age, and yet the curve of Ren’s jaw made him seem infinitely young, despite the man being a few inches taller.

Ren stares back at him.

“What are you still doing in my quarters?” Hux says finally, hatred back in his voice. He then, surprisingly, sees a smile bend up on Ren’s lips.

“That was all you needed of me?”

“That’s all I ever need of you. You’re useless for nearly everything else.” He stares the man down a few more seconds, and then finally speaks up again, shuffling him out. “Away, away! I’ll contact you again if I require need for you again.”

He pushes him towards the door as Kylo Ren attempts to fix himself up, fastening his trousers again and fixing his robes. He puts his gloves back on. And then, before Hux can order him out completely, Ren puts his arms around Hux’s waist, and presses his lips against Hux’s.

No, he doesn’t just press them. He kisses him. It’s gentle and short and fuckin emotional, and Hux hates it. There’s no bite behind it, no power, no passion, no aggression. None of that power he’d just witnessed, just softness and weakness. Then, Kylo Ren pulls away, hands dropping from around him, and he opens the door, exists, and it closes behind him, leaving Hux alone in his own quarters.

Kylo Ren is uncontrollable, he reminds himself. He’s erratic. He’s weak.
Kylo Ren is useless, he has to think, he serves Hux the only purpose he needs, and that is Ren’s purpose. Useless and uncontrollable.

/inarticulate noises

yum.

OP: you are my kind of trash <3

I hope this is more or less what you were after. It was fun to write, anyway!

I tried posting it as a comment here, but got frustrated by the formatting, so I put it on my AO3 account instead, here's the link: Here! (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5775070) :D

Unffffffffff

OP here. That was astounding. I loved the escalatig tension between them. Hux was such a sneaky manipulative shit and I loved it. Also appreciated you including all the reactions of the background employees. Even Zack made his return!

This was the perfect fill and I'm so grateful that you did this. I'll be rereading this time and time again, for sure. Thank you so so much!

Bawww! *^^* thank you! I'm honestly just really happy you enjoyed!
And thanks to YOU for the perfect prompt! :D
--limit-breaker

please please please pleaaaaaase!!!!!

Hux in heat sounds delicious.

I am so sorry that this introductory sequence took so long. my excuse is that, as tolkien says, "anything worth saying is worth taking a long time to say." I've left things pretty open tho so if you don't like the direction that I've started taking things in, I can change where I'm going without too much fuss :)

It was by sheer serendipity that Rey had ever found the holocron, though she didn’t know it was serendipity, or the true nature of the artefact that she had scavenged, at the time. Only a few cycles previously had Rey exhausted her previous scavenging site, a derelict AT-AT much like the one that she had made her humble abode. The old site had suited her well, not that far from home or Nima outpost and with a reliable source of scraps to keep her relatively well sustained, even with Unkar Plutt’s usurious exchange rates between scrap and rations. But even an AT-AT was eventually depleted of things to scavenge, and Rey was forced to move on.

The day that Rey had found the holocron started out much like any other, with no indication of the terrifying sandstorm that was to come that afternoon, so she ventured out into the great, sandy unknown in hopes of finding another site to scavenge to support herself. Well, perhaps it wasn’t serendipity that Rey found the holocron after all, as she felt a subtle pull from the distance, far past where she would normally search for sites. The pull was coming from so far away, in fact, that she completely missed the nascent storm on the horizon until the winds were whipping her hair into her face.

The sand kicked up by the storm assaulted her as she furtively looked around for shelter, and she had to pull her goggles down over her eyes and mask over her mouth. By the way that the winds had picked up and the storm had picked up speed, there was no way that Rey could outrun the encroaching hazard on her ramshackle salvaged speeder, but there was nowhere nearby for her to take shelter, so she observed the increasingly frenetic pull into the yonder.

Her speeder was desperately struggling, and even with her thick goggles protecting her eyes, she could barely see through the sandy tempest, but she had an innate feeling that somehow, she was almost there. Where there was, she had no idea, especially as the sands bellowing against her back pushed her off her speeder and the sands beneath swallowed her.

***

When she awoke, she found herself on the bridge of a truly antiquated ship, and stiffly sat up to have a look around. The Imperial Dreadnoughts and AT-AT walkers that frequently made her fodder might have been old, but compared to them, this was positively ancient and Rey was not sure how such a site could have lain unperturbed for so long. The ship was quiet, with no evidence of the gargantuan storm that may or may not have been continuing overhead. It would have been, since it was just Rey there, breathing softly in the darkness, but it also felt quiet. Not like some great calamity had befallen the ship, more like the simple sorrow of something once so grandiose having been long forgotten.

As her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and she gained confidence that she wouldn’t accidentally trip over a precipice, she gingerly stood, still sore from the fall. Most of the technology would have been too old, made obsolete by the decrepitude of time, to scavenge and trade to Unkar Plutt for rations, but there was a subtle beauty in the elegance of its construction, and Rey enjoyed exploring the derelict vessel’s magnificent corridors. Consciously, she thought that she was trying to find her way out of the vessel, but unconsciously, she was following the subtle call of something sinister.

It was by complete accident that she accidentally kicked a bit of detritus against a wall, and the echo that ricocheted around the empty walkway made her jump and hit her head over a low-hanging support beam. It wasn’t complete accident that the debris in question was what had called her here in the first place. When she crouched to inspect it, she was perplexed. How could something so small, a pendant of sorts that would fit in the palm of her hand, have made so much noise?

She felt almost a magnetism towards it, her fingers reaching towards it seemingly of their own accord. The closer she got to actually touching it, the more her fingers tingled. When they finally closed in, just the barest brush of contact, Rey blacked out once more.
***

It was smoke that clouded Rey’s vision this time, not sand. She could use the goggles to cover her eyes from the sharp plumes coming from where Unkar Plutt’s tent had been set ablaze, but she had no protection against the shrill shrieks of the denizens of Nima station as they cowered in terror before the ‘troopers who were besieging them. The entire scene was pure chaos, with the soldiers running around shooting at Rey’s friends—well, perhaps not friends, but they were the closest thing that Rey had ever known.

Instead of running ~~away~~ to safety, she charged directly into the fray, wielding her staff as best as she could. In all the confusion, Rey had managed to incapacitate a couple of ‘troopers. A firm whack with her quarterstaff behind the knees to force them to the ground, and one to the back of the head to knock them out. There was one trooper who had attempted to grab her from the front, and she had brought down all her might in an overhead swing, the ‘trooper crumpling impotently.

There was another ‘trooper trying to grab one of the younger girls whom Rey sometimes saw swiping the occasional credit chit off of one of the merchants in the marketplace, and with a wild cry Rey shoulder charged straight at the two, hoping to distract the ‘trooper so that the little girl could get away. Unfortunately, her cry alerted several other ‘troopers to the altercation and while the young girl was nimble enough to escape, Rey was quickly overcome and forced into the ground.

She would have laughed into the sand at the idea that this was how she was to end, deserted in the desert without being able to say goodbye to the family that she had loyally awaited all these years, if she hadn’t had the breath knocked out of her by a boot to her back. She could hear the “click” of a blaster loading, and she tensed her body up… and then no shot ever came. Instead, she felt a body crumple beside her, and the dull thud that it made shook her to her core.

Rey had been so preoccupied by her incipient demise that she had missed a heavily modulated voice shout “wait,” and due to being prostrate with her face in the sand, missed a figure clad in dark robes reach out and gesture before the ‘trooper fell beside her. She didn’t miss the tread of heavy boots coming towards her, and she certainly didn’t miss the next words that the dark figure spoke.

“This is interesting.” Interesting? Interesting? Rey’s entire life was up in flames around her, everything, everyone that she had ever known dead around her, and all this poodoo had to say was that she was interesting??? Rey clenched her fists in the sand, ready to spring up and throw a handful in the face of whichever sleemo was calling her tragedy interesting.

But before she could do much more than think about how satisfying it would be to exact some ~~petty~~ revenge, Rey found her limbs locked by her side, and felt herself floating idly in the air, flipping over into a supine position where she somehow felt even more vulnerable.

“What is this?” came the voice once more, clearly not expecting her to answer as she could barely breathe, let alone spit some vitriolic answer.

Rey saw a hand reach towards her chest, and would have tensed up if she had any control over her body. But when the hand grasped at the pendant that she wore around her neck, the souvenir from the strange ship in which she once sought shelter from the harsh landscape, she screamed internally as she could not make any actual noise. That little frivolous bauble was one of her only prized possessions, beside her scooter and her home. After just losing her home, everything that she knew, she couldn’t lose the last thing that she owned!

With a Herculean amount of effort, she forced her arm to catch the dark figure’s wrist just after the frayed leather strap that carried the pendant was snapped and the pendant was torn from her chest. The shock was almost palpable in the air, and Rey fell to the ground, still clutching the figure’s wrist and sending it toppling over her in the process as her weight dropped. It was at an awkward angle, though, and receiving a knee to the forehead was the last thing that Rey could remember before everything faded to black again.

I apologise if this is shit, I churned it out in about an hour and a half and didn't bother editing it beyond a quick once-over

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PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

This post is closed to new prompts!

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Fill Re: poe/finn

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Re: JB-007 joined resistance, "You'll remove these restraints and leave this cell with the door open

Re: Fill Re: poe/finn

Rey/Jessika

Rey/Any, biting/scratching

Fill: Bawdy Language (Poe/Finn, humiliation kink) | 3/4

Now on AO3 | Re: Kylo/Hux, Leia, after the fall of the First Order

Re: FILL: Magic healing cock (3/3)

Re: Poe/Hux, marriage counselling

Re: Hux/Kylo-Captured by the Resistance

Re: FILL: Magic healing cock (3/3)

FILL: "(im)balance" 2/?

author anon here

Fill: Deaged! First Order [2]

[FILL] Kylo/Hux - Fully clothed blowjob

Re: Fill Re: poe/finn

FILL: Hux/MattTheRadarTechnician!Kylo, Hux knows and takes advantage

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Re: FILL: Hux/MattTheRadarTechnician!Kylo, Hux knows and takes advantage

Re: Luke/Leia - hair brushing

Re: Hux/Kylo Ren, a/b/o. Hux is an omega.

The Final Front Ear Job: 1/??