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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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Do they want less humanity when their doing it? Is it like watching yourself in a mirror? Is Hux sort of just turned on by stormtroopers? Who knows!

“I'm partial to your helmet. But I suppose you'd be affronted if I asked you not to remove it?” Hux said, raising an eyebrow.

Phasma went motionless. “Not at all” she said, voice oddly edged with some emotion. “Your proposal appeals to me.” A measured pause. “If you'd grant a similar favor, keep your gloves on, during.”

Hux looked at her curiously but didn't ask. He had to take his gloves off to remove his shirt without difficulty, but he pulled the black leather back over his hands after undressing.

It was cold, touching his forehead to the smooth expanse of her helmet as their bodies came together. Her fathomless, dark lenses seemed to watch him as he positioned himself between her legs and touched her.

Irrational as it was, Hux associated her helmet more with her face than Phasma's actual flesh-and-blood face. He'd seen the other on rare occasions, at formal officer's parties. She had lovely hair and eyes, but they wore a neutral expression that suggested high-stakes Sabacc, at the very least. It was professional. Not inviting. And this was … shaping up to be everything he'd wanted out of this encounter. He had the captain of the stormtroopers on her back, naked in his bed, and it was perfect.

He couldn't hear her breathing, or watch her composure come apart, but her chest rose and fell beautifully as he stroked his fingers over her. A fine sheen of sweat covered her large, lovely breasts as he put most of his weight on one gloved hand, holding her down at the sternum, and pushed fingers in with the other. There was something ritualized about all of it. She sucked breath between her teeth at the intrusion, even though her body was dripping for him. Her muscles clenched forcefully around his hand. One of her hands gripped his forearm. The other fisted the covers hard enough that her knuckles were whitening. The expanse of her body just went on and on under his eyes, shifting muscles and long, sinuous lines. He was tempted to run his hands down the solid planes of her stomach, or the pronounced contours of her thighs, but instead he replaced his hand with his shaft and pushed in, unconcerned, almost punishing.

The expression of Phasma's helmet, the enigmatic almost-grin didn't falter, of course. But she lifted her hips to meet his thrust. There was an unnerving sort of quiet, almost challenging, as he pulled out and then fucked back into her. Hux was intentionally setting a pace that he could keep for a while. He wanted her to feel this the next day. He wanted to make her come well before he was even close to finished. This was as much about control as it was about pleasure, even though she was so beautiful that he resented having to make rational choices about it, as opposed to exploring, feeling, tasting, and playing with her. Because they thought the same way, because she inhabited his world – of ships and weapons and power games – he couldn't.

She had precisely the genetic makeup of someone who would have made a desirable Imperial wife. But none of the temperament for it. The more he watched the light dance on her helmet, as they moved, the gladder he was of its presence. He didn't want some pretty face with soft lines. He wanted this. He wanted her: metal, tempered and reflective. She only took her helmet off out of necessity, he realized. But that was just as well, because his interest wasn't in seeing what she didn't want to show. It wasn't in intruding on her privacy. This was about surface. This was about dominance. This was about righting himself after the recent conversation they'd had, where he'd actually caught himself smiling at her. They just … both needed to get this out of their system and go back to focusing on things that mattered. The galaxy's imminent subjugation beckoned.

The other had really been the fault of archaic antecedents to early Imperial history, he'd decided, and exceptionally boring social events. He hadn't recognized her without her armor on, or he would have found someone more important to play off of as he networked. As it was, he'd liked her wit and elegance, dragged her with him to a number of different tables as he informally sized up the new officers ... and then spent four hours heatedly discussing overlooked tactical breakthroughs from the Mandalorian War. After having completely underestimated what she'd know about any of it and making a contentious and, in retrospect, rather ill-considered remark. Dash it all, though, he hadn't met anyone who took their history training as seriously as he did in years. Or, frankly, who knew all his uncles (by reputation) from their accomplishments in the Imperial Navy. And Palpatine. Her eyes had danced whenever the subject turned to their august Emperor. Finally someone who … Hux blinked and tried to refocus. He was having sex, for pity's sake. And it was as good as it usually was, so he had no idea why he was luxuriating in the memory of a nice conversation. This was hardly the moment.

Perhaps, his mind answered him slyly, because it's the first time you've had a conversation you found remotely stimulating with such a striking woman.

He swallowed. She was a formidable, lovely creature, albeit perhaps with a build few men would appreciate. She would have been tall, regardless, but without such training, without her vocation as a Stormtrooper (her words, not his), she wouldn't have developed the hard muscles that gave her gait such weight and presence. Or that strength that left people gaping in awe in the weight room, until they got used to her. More or less. As much as anyone ever did. He knew that wasn't how she liked people to think of her – as an anomaly – but it was as if she'd superimposed the ideology of a man on the body of a woman.

Phasma had the rigid adherence to authority and command that was drilled into all the 'troopers. That was how he'd gotten her here, actually. Into – this. Young as Hux still was, he knew from her answers to his questions that he could trust her obedience. He was her commanding officer. That meant something private and complicated if you probed beyond the surface at all, but it also meant reflexive, unhesitating submission. It meant any one of them was his to use, though most of the time he had more productive things to do. And it meant the lust was secondary to the exercise of power. He was trying to reestablish distance and dominance through a pure display of “you come here at my summons, you do as I say, and you leave at my convenience.” What could be less interesting?

And yet, he realized all at once that he'd been incorrect. Because having this dragon laid out quiescently under him, her pale and powerful body beneath his jet black gloves, and using her like this was a power trip all its own, and he'd somehow gone from being almost dissociated from what he was doing to becoming completely entranced by it.

“Captain,” he ground out.

“General,” she acknowledged, voice husky and thick with desire. Her insides clenched around him repeatedly, rhythmically. Life-force, it was like having his cock embraced by a crushing monster. But her muscles pulled him in fully, rolling waves of heat and pressure encouraging the way his thrusts became savage.

It was actually painful, but so exquisitely intense that he decided there was no question of backing down now. Hux's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, that turned up at the corners into a truly frightening smile as he mastered himself. He'd moved from uncertainty to confidence, from can I take this? Should I pull out? She's kriffing powerful! to enjoying the way her body was making full contact, sucking against his entire length hungrily as if it could not wait for his come. Phasma's muscles bowed her back against the bed as she came, pushing her breasts against his chest. He gave up his original plan and drove into her with abandon, and her orgasm drew his out of him in long, deep pulls.

Hux collapsed on top of her, not caring about the way his heart was pounding. His eyes were closed, and all he could feel was the warmth and solidity of her. Phasma's body was still shuddering, albeit more gently now, against his softening cock. He could also feel her heart. Her breathing. Her arms, as she – hesitantly, and then with determination – held him against her.

He wasn't as tall as she was: lining up their hips had meant that his head now rested against the curve of her helmet's jawline, but the metal was smooth and cool. And the crook of her shoulder was comfortable. On impulse, he nipped at her collarbone, hard enough to leave marks, and then ran his tongue over them. Phasma made an unconcerned sound under him that he could feel from her vocal chords well into the depth of her chest, a vibration that made him very aware of the contours of her body. He ran a gloved palm over one of her breasts, and this was met with an internal twitch against the end of his cock.

Hux had a sudden, insistent desire to make her take her mask off and suck him back to hardness, even though he wasn't properly recovered yet. As things were getting a little out of hand even without his encouragement, he ignored it.

Phasma was trailing a hand down his back and then up again. It wasn't particularly suggestive, but it felt nice. He didn't take people to his bed often, so his skin tingled and buzzed with the novelty of being touched. Petted, really. He considered telling her to stop. Then changed his mind, deciding that volunteered caresses were also a kind of submission. (Somehow, that made it okay. Simply feeling good would have been rejected as a trivial distraction.)

“You could have warned me,” he said, mild reproof in his voice.

“I. Didn't expect to have to,” Phasma said, sounding embarrassed.

“Explain yourself.”

“Normally, I have a lot more control over whether to … but my insides didn't give me any notice. When you spoke, everything went molten.”

Hux felt the compliment in his chest.

Silence, followed by audible, absolutely sincere concern: “Did I hurt you?”

He laughed. “Hardly. Though you seemed a little out of practice,” he said, just to see how she would respond to that.

“Sadly, I am. Most people aren't in a position to invite me to sleep with them,” Phasma said. “And when I'm not what they expect, people often feel threatened.”

“Mm. Do you know, I'm considering doing this with you more often.”

“Well, if there's something I can do to make that more likely, let me know. Sir.”

Hux smirked against her, more than pleased with this. It looked like his previous plan to fuck her once and be done with it wasn't at all realistic, but, as neither of them seemed to have a romantic bone in their bodies, he didn't expect an arrangement to occupy much of their time. And, given the amount of intrigue in the upper levels of the First Order, he could do a lot worse than a high-ranking Stormtrooper.

That was fantastic author!anon. I though the "leave the gloves on" idea made a fascinating parallel that gave such lovely ambiguous hints about Phasma's motivations. Hux's history and military obsessions felt really on point and I especially loved how physically powerful you made Phasma. The mind games and domination aspects also made for scorching hot sex. Thanks for sharing.

AA Thank you! Yeah, it ended up being so much from Hux's POV, and Hux is self-absorbed enough that I wasn't sure if what Phasma was thinking would come through at all. The headcanon as I was writing was that Phasma kinks on power games too, and history references, and black leather gloves + Imperials go waaay back. As for her physicality, I was impressed when I realized how tall the actress they cast as Phasma was in cast pictures. Then when I realized they were playing her straight as a dedicated soldier I went "ah. I can DEFINITELY work with this." The story coalesced from there. And people who are ideologically invested in there being lots of hierarchy tend to take that with them into the bedroom, so ... it gave me the perfect excuse to write D/s. I'm really glad that part did it for you.

BTW, I meant to clarify in my author's note that I love Kylux, and the comment at the end is in no way a dig at that pairing. I just forgot.

Wow wow wowww

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS - YAAAAAAAAAAAAS - WORSHIP QUEEN PHASMA'S PUSSY ERRY DAY HUX. I LOVE THIS!

Nnnnnghhhh that was amazing - Well-done Phux just makes my day and here they're so tied up in each other. And that 'gloves' request? YES

I hope this is what you wanted, OP. Your prompt made me really happy and I've been pulling a story together in my spare moments for days. I would have liked it to have fewer trailing pieces, because it felt disorganized, but it's been a long time since I wrote something like this. I hope it was hot, in any event, and IC. (First story with either of these guys, and watching TFA didn't give me a lot to go on for how to characterize Phasma.)

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PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

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Phasma/Hux- Leave the Helmet On

FILL: Phasma/Hux- Leave the Helmet On

Re: FILL: Phasma/Hux- Leave the Helmet On

Re: FILL: Phasma/Hux- Leave the Helmet On

Re: FILL: Phasma/Hux- Leave the Helmet On

Re: FILL: Phasma/Hux- Leave the Helmet On

Re: FILL: Phasma/Hux- Leave the Helmet On

AN