#phasma x reader
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𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)
(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore.
They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you.
Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety.
—
Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed.
Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby.
But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while...
Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh.
You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh.
It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to.
You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience?
Thinking about it gave you a headache.
For where was the point in wondering?
You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because-
Because-
Wait.
Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of…
“Fuck.”
You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right.
“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood.
You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill.
There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy.
“Help! Help!”
Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell.
A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength.
“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet.
In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.
“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.
The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you.
Too late.
You were too late.
And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead.
Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage.
Too late.
You were too late.
You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed.
But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you.
Something–a sound–made you freeze.
It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement.
Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag.
Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did.
The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then-
“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap.
“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere.
You shook your head.
“Words. Use them.”
“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle.
“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life.
“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.
“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.”
“And the others?”
You blinked. “Others? What oth-”
“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent.
Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in.
“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.”
The gun still didn’t move.
“They don’t ambush. What really happened?”
Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures.
So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth.
“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.”
“How long since?”
“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own.
“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned.
Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.
“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-”
Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world.
“-we can’t just leave them-”
“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”
“-not stupid. We need more people-”
Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window.
“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone.
With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.
“Woah-”
“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?”
The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told.
“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade.
But she didn’t move.
It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak.
“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed.
Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went.
“More like a rat.”
And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.
You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you.
“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot.
With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest.
You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked.
“Um- thank you for-”
“Shoot them.”
“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched.
“You heard me. Shoot them.”
“Pha-”
“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?”
“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off.
“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”
You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude.
“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact.
Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming.
“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers.
“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-”
“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return.
“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view.
As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.
—
“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep.
Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun.
“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word.
Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you.
“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass.
The grass.
You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-
oh.
Oh.
You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit.
How fucking lucky were you?
“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance.
Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that.
After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger.
—
“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead.
It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.
Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.
“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches.
Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her.
“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms.
The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.
“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall.
You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps.
“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority.
“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline.
The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck.
“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.
“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.”
“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group.
“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself.
That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.
“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway.
Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue.
“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.”
Lucifer? Naked under the what?
You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were…
“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?”
“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?”
“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.”
“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.
“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”
“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.
“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.
“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”
Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.
Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body.
“Okay. Yes. Sure.”
“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider.
“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors.
You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you.
“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes.
Red lips twitched.
“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.”
“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.
“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.
“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.
“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.
You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up.
“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.”
You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat.
“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully.
You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right.
Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat.
“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”
A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard.
“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through.
“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang.
“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.”
“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips.
Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done.
“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time?
“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa.
“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?”
Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded.
“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted.
“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.”
Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.
“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.
“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it.
And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you.
Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence.
“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.
“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.”
She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.”
You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow.
It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away.
“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.
At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering.
“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant.
Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand.
“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.”
It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
#rippersz#fanfictionwriter#fanfic#fanfiction#wlw fanfic#gwendoline christie#gwendoline christie characters#larissa weems#captain phasma#jan stevens#lucifer morningstar the sandman#brienne of tarth#jane murdstone#anna welcome to marwen#miranda hilmarson#x reader fanfic#x reader fic#x reader#larissa weems x reader#phasma x reader#jan stevens x reader#y/n#x y/n#jane murdstone x reader#anna x reader#miranda hilmarson x reader#brienne of tarth x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman x reader#lucifer morningstar sandman#got brienne
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Good evening, my internet-lawfully wedded wife. I would like to request that Hanahaki Phasma story please? 🥺🥺🥺
Hello 💖 Thanks for the request, lovely 🥺 I finally had an idea for how to write this and I am very happy with how it turned out - and nervous as I've never written for Phasma before. I hope you like it, regardless of the angst 🥺
Thank you to @dianneking for beta-ing and helping me with the title, it means a lot 🫶🏼
Forget-me-not
Captain Phasma x f!reader
Summary: Of all the people you could’ve fallen in love with, it had to be Captain Phasma. Could your love for her be your death sentence?
Words: ~3.1k | ao3 link in title
Content/warnings: Hanahaki disease trope, angst, no happy ending, mentions of blood + death, character death, briefly nsfw (light smut - minors DNI)
Icy blue eyes stare deeply into your own, pale pink lips are curled up into a devilish, seductive smirk. Phasma’s face is flushed and her pupils are dilated as she watches you come undone above her, bucking your hips against her and coating her abdomen in your arousal as you chase your high.
You’ve had sex with Phasma a handful of times now, which is strange in and of itself. You’ve heard plenty of stories about her since starting with the First Order – stories of one-night stands, lovers being used, abused, and discarded – threatened into silence, fired, even disappearing.
It would be dangerous to assume that you’re special – that you somehow mean more to Phasma than the other women she’s slept with. No one means anything to Phasma, that is one thing she has made abundantly clear. Phasma is the only person who means anything to Phasma. Everyone else is disposable, a means to an end – in this case, the end being her own sexual pleasure.
But then why has she let you into her bed time and time again? At first, she was demanding and dominating, relentless; taking, taking, taking. You cried during your first time with her – you were so overstimulated, yet she wouldn’t let up, and she punished you any time you tried to touch her. After that, you feared you’d be discarded like the rest – but then it happened again. And again. And then, one night, Phasma even allowed you to touch her. Watching the Captain Phasma reach the height of her pleasure on your fingers was something akin to a religious experience – you were ready to worship the woman, to give your soul over to her after hearing her moan and feeling her body shudder against your own.
She’d taken her helmet off for the first time that night as well – you were immediately struck by her beauty. The planes of her face had a softness to them that had thrown you off-guard, her eyes – blue, oh so blue, oceans you could drown in – felt hypnotizing as they pierced your own. She’d been reluctant at first, but somehow – somehow – you’d managed to convince her – it must get quite hot and uncomfortable under that helmet after all. After the threat of torture methods that you hadn’t even heard of, ensuring you would never so much as think of telling a soul about seeing the great Captain without her helmet, she’d revealed her face to you.
And now, looking down at that charismatic, captivating smirk through the lustful haze of your fourth orgasm, you know you’ve gone and made the most fatal error you could possibly make.
You’ve fallen in love with Captain Phasma.
~~~
And what a fatal error, indeed.
After your latest rendezvous in Phasma’s quarters, you see her next at training the following morning. The bright fluorescent lights bounce off the chrome of her armor, flawlessly polished – though your mind is rather stuck on what lies underneath. Silken blonde locks, slicked back to emphasize her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. Long, muscular arms and large, slender hands; rock-hard abs and legs that seem to go on for miles, with thick thighs that you can’t help but picture wrapping around your head. After seeing the fearsome Captain outside of her armor, you fear you can never unsee it – and you’ll always be left wanting, yearning for more.
Perhaps there would be a way to convince her that you’re worth more than a quick fuck – you can’t stop thinking about those strong arms wrapping around your waist in your post-coital haze, fingertips tenderly caressing your bare flesh as soft lips press chaste kisses all over your face. You would look into her eyes – which would fill with affection – and tell her you love her, and she would say it back with a smile on her face.
Cough.
You’re caught by surprise at the sound that bubbles forth from your chest, tickling your throat.
“FN-196, is something the matter?”
Phasma’s voice is cool and collected – dangerous. You shouldn’t have made a peep – but you can’t help it. Another cough tickles the back of your throat and forces its way out – you try to stifle it but that just makes the coughing fit worse.
“N-no-“ cough “I’m sorry-” cough “It w-wo-“ cough “It won’t happen again, Captain.”
You clear your throat awkwardly and straighten your back as Phasma stalks towards you, stopping right in front of you. She’s inches away from your face, though she’s tall enough that you’d have to crane your head back just a bit to look up at her. You don’t – you think she might kill you if you do, so you look straight ahead at your reflection in her armor.
She looks down at you for a moment, her head tilted ever so slightly – you wish you knew what she was thinking. Does she really hold any shred of affection for you, does she favor you at all? Or is she plotting the quickest way to dispose of you?
“One more sound and I’ll have you scrubbing TIE fighters all weekend.”
Merciful.
You nod curtly. “Yes, Captain.” You don’t dare say anything else.
~~~
After your little coughing fit, you briefly worry that you’ve caught a cold. You seem to be in the clear, however – you don’t cough again after that, not for a few days.
But then it happens again, as you’re walking past Phasma in the corridor. One moment you’re fine, the next you look up and see her walking towards you. You come to a halt and step aside to allow her to pass, a sign of respect. She affords you the smallest of nods – an acknowledgement that makes you swoon – and that’s when it happens. You cough, more violently this time, as though your lungs have run out of air and are shriveling up as a result.
Phasma stops in her tracks and turns towards you, staring. Waiting for the coughing to stop. It does, eventually, and you feel your cheeks burn. You know she can’t see it underneath your helmet, but you’re certain she can sense your embarrassment in the way your shoulders droop and your hands begin to fidget as you stutter out an apology.
“Are you ill?”
“N-no, Captain, I don’t think so.” You shuffle from foot to foot – you can feel another coughing fit coming on, and you really don’t want Phasma to be around for that. “Just a tickle, must’ve breathed in some dust.” Right. Through your helmet. As if Phasma would believe that.
She hums, giving you a once over. You squirm.
“Good.”
She turns and starts to walk away. “Come to my quarters tomorrow night.”
Your heart flutters as you watch her round the corner, disappearing from view.
Cough.
~~~
“Mmh, oh- f-fuck,” you mewl, as Phasma’s hips slam into yours at a brutal pace, her dildo disappearing inside of you as she thrusts the entire length into your cunt. A bead of sweat collects at her temple, rolling slowly down her flushed cheek. Her hair sticks to her forehead, falling into her eyes – hungry eyes that devour you as she ravishes you. Her lips are parted to let out quiet grunts, her abs ripple with exertion and her biceps flex as she holds herself above you.
Your eyes roll back in your head as the dildo reaches deep inside of you – your breath quickens and you feel a guttural moan tear from your throat as your orgasm hits you, your walls clenching around Phasma’s cock. She’s relentless – she doesn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm and even after, as you sink into the mattress and try desperately to regulate your breathing.
Phasma reaches her own peak and tumbles over it, and it’s a glorious sight. Her jaw goes slack and her eyelids fall shut, a broken moan slips past her lips. Her entire body trembles a bit and her hips stutter in their movements. The fact that she can get off by watching you cum is incredibly arousing to you, and it makes you feel special.
She removes the harness and the dildo and tosses it on the floor beside the bed, before lying down next to you – not to cuddle, no, never to cuddle – just to rest for a moment and recover from her orgasm. You turn your head to glance over at her. Her eyes are shut, allowing you to admire her openly. She’s breathing heavily, her cheeks are red, her forehead is sweaty. She looks heavenly, divine even.
You wish she would let you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close. You wish she would let you feel her lips against your own. You wish she would let you card your fingers through her hair and caress her jaw and tell her how much you love her, and you wish she would say it back. You wish-
Cough.
Oh no. Not again.
Phasma’s eyes shoot open and she looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. You avoid her gaze as your lungs constrict and you cough again, and again. Something tickles your throat – it’s as if something is stuck there. You cough harder – it has to come out. Covering your mouth, you cough again, and feel something soft hit your palm.
A small, blue flower petal. Your eyes widen in horror as you stare at the petal in your hand.
No. No, no, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t-
“What is that?” Phasma asks. Her brows are knit together and she cranes her neck to try and get a look.
“N-nothing” cough “it’s nothing.”
But Phasma isn’t one for playing games. Long, slender fingers curl around your wrist, vice-like in their strength – a snake devouring its prey, and she forces you to show her what you’ve coughed up.
Her upper lip twitches.
A billion micro-expressions cross her face, too quickly for you to place any one of them. When she looks you in the eyes a moment later, her face is devoid of any expression at all.
“It’s time you leave. Don’t be late for training tomorrow.”
You don’t need to be told twice – the hard edge to her voice scares you, so you clamber out of her bed and dress as quickly and as quietly as you can, your cheeks burning as you feel Phasma watching your every move. You hurry to leave, leaving the flower petal nestled among the sheets.
Phasma stares at it as you leave. She knows what it means. She’s no fool – she’s seen the way you look at her, how eager you are to please her – both in work and in sex.
An intense, burning rage fills Phasma - her insides suddenly feel like molten lava, her heart pounds viciously. If you die, Phasma will lose one of her best stormtroopers - and one of her best lovers. And you will die, if it's Phasma you’re in love with.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to love you back. There’s a reason she’s let you warm her bed for so long, after all. You’re skilled with your tongue, certainly, and you look so enticing when you’re being fucked into oblivion. But there’s something else – something Phasma doesn’t quite understand, something she’s never felt before. It’s not love, at least she doesn’t think it is – it’s nothing like how other people describe love, a feeling that Phasma doesn’t ever recall feeling.
But it’s something, and it’s been so long since Phasma has felt anything. Around you, in those brief moments after sex just before she kicks you out of her bed, she feels just a little lighter. Her usual anger is subdued, a dying ember where there’s usually a roaring flame.
It’s not enough, though. She knows this. She knows you know this – you must know this.
You’re a fool – a damned fool – Phasma thinks. Only an idiot would fall in love with her.
~~~
As is to be expected, your illness gets worse. You begin to disrupt training with your coughing – Phasma finds this annoying as is, but what she finds even more annoying is the unfamiliar sense of guilt that gnaws at her stomach, knowing she’s the cause of your… distress.
She dismisses you from training – the others will get suspicious, and your performance is lacking anyway. It’s best if you stay in your quarters.
She goes to check on you one day, in the middle of the night. Briefly, she wonders if she should have come at a more reasonable hour, but then she hears the coughing through your door and she knows you haven’t been able to fall asleep yet anyway.
You answer the door, your eyes bleary and your face pale. There’s blood trickling down your chin and a few small, crushed flower petals cling to the sweaty fabric of your nightgown. And yet, you smile at her. She tilts her head – why are you smiling? You’re a fool – a damned fool.
“It’s progressed then?” she asks. The modulator in her helmet keeps her voice level, and for that she is grateful.
Your eyes fill with sadness but your smile – soft, gentle – never wavers. You nod and open your mouth to speak, but you’re interrupted by another coughing fit, and bloody flower petals spill out of your mouth and onto Phasma’s boots.
Phasma looks down at the stained chrome, then back up at you.
“I-I’m” cough “sorry” wheeze “I-I’ll c-clean it-“
“Leave it.”
Your eyes widen and your cheeks redden, but you don’t dare argue.
Phasma turns her head to the right, then to the left. The corridor is empty. She takes a step towards you, into your quarters, until she’s nearly flush against you. Lifting her hands to her head, she removes her helmet, and cool blue eyes pierce your own. Your smile is back now, and she doesn’t understand – in fact, it makes her a little uncomfortable. A smile like that has rarely been directed at her (even if there is blood dribbling down your chin and your eyes are slightly unfocused) – it takes all her willpower to maintain eye contact.
“You shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.” Her tone is lacking noticeably in bite, though neither of you acknowledge this fact.
“I know.”
Cough.
“You’ll die.”
“I know.”
Wheeze.
Phasma’s lip twitches and her eyes dart between your own. Your smile is steady and true, even as your eyes fill with tears.
Phasma knows what she should say – what anyone else in her position would say. ‘I’m sorry’. Except she can’t say it, because she isn’t. Is she? She’s unsure – she’s never actually felt sorry for anything, not even for betraying her own family. Why should some random woman, a subordinate of hers at that, change that?
She remains silent. She nods curtly. You stifle another cough as you nod back, blinking slowly – it appears as though, somehow, you understand. As though you know that Phasma even bothering to show up in your quarters at all before your body leaves this galaxy is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.
“You d-don’t h-have” cough “to love me b-back. Just d-don’t” cough “for-forget me.”
You chuckle. Phasma doesn’t think it’s funny. She blinks, puts her helmet back on.
“Goodnight, FN-196.”
She doesn’t spare you another glance as she leaves.
~~~
Early one morning, Phasma is called to your quarters – as your superior, if something has happened, she needs to be informed.
And Phasma immediately knows what’s happened. Underneath her helmet, her eyes scan your body – limp, pale, covered in blood and flower petals. Even worse off than the last time she saw you. Usually, such a gory sight stirs up a sort of crazed bloodlust deep within Phasma’s soul, a gleeful sort of giddiness. Only now, when it’s you covered in blood and sweat, unmoving, she feels no such thing.
Her lips curl into a frown – wrong way, wrong way, she should be smiling! She shouldn’t be upset!
Sometimes, when one is confronted with death, they regret. They think of all the things they wished they’d said, they wish for one more moment with the person they care for.
Phasma doesn’t regret. She knows she couldn’t have told you how she feels about you anyway. How does she feel about you? Perhaps, she could have told you that when she’s with you, she feels for the first time. But would that have been enough to save you? No, probably not. And perhaps it’s better this way. It would have gotten messy – Phasma doesn’t mix work and relationships (only casual sex, only ever casual sex, only with people who are disposable). She’s not even sure she was built for a relationship – in fact, she’s certain she wasn’t.
So, no, Phasma doesn’t wish for one more moment with you in which she would profess her undying love (is she capable of such a thing?) and see the bright smile on your face when you realize your affection is returned. But her heart does ache a little – just a little twinge, really, in a very foreign sort of way – and, when she thinks of never feeling your silken skin under her fingertips again, her stomach twists.
The stormtrooper tilts his head. “What should I do with her, Captain?”
Phasma’s gaze never leaves your body, even as she’s addressed directly. What should one do with you? The thought of doing anything at all makes her heart clench.
But she can’t show weakness.
She can’t.
She swallows thickly. Discreetly.
Blinks twice.
Then her face hardens. The stormtrooper can’t see it underneath her helmet anyway, but it’s part of her mask. She has to play the part if she’s going to keep the respect of her troops. Self-preservation has always been vital to her, after all.
“Take her away.”
The stormtrooper shrugs and slings your body over his shoulder, before carrying you out of the room – carelessly, like a doll. Phasma grits her teeth – you should be treated like a precious thing, carried bridal style and showered with kiss- no. What is she thinking? You’re nothing but a corpse now, it hardly matters how your body is treated. Except, for some reason, it matters a lot to Phasma, though she cannot let on to that.
She waits.
She waits until the door closes and the footsteps of the stormtrooper’s boots against the cold metal floor fade.
Her gaze falls to the floor where, amongst a few droplets of blood, a single, tiny, blue forget-me-not petal rests.
A single tear drips down her cheek, catching on the inside of her helmet.
x
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Infiltrate My Life ~Captain Phasma xFem Trainee!Reader
May the fourth be with you all!! I just needed an excuse to write another Fic for Phasma lol. Smutty Fic for Star Wars Day 😘🏳️🌈🖤
Mommy…Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, implied masturbation, smut, thigh riding, spanking, spanking kink, mommy kink, implied pain kink…?, implied future smut, etc.
Enjoy (;
You barely dodged a yet another swing, that Phasma sent your way.
You two had been sparring for hours by now.
You looked at the clock and it read 11:30pm…
You were a panting mess.
While the Captain was still energized and swinging at you.
You had been assigned to her as your training mentor, and unlike a lot of the other senior imperial staff, she took it seriously.
Physical Training every morning at 4:30.
Dieted Breakfast at 8.
Stealth Training at 9:30.
Dieted Lunch at 12:30pm.
Weapons Training at 2:30.
Gear Analysis & Training at 4.
Dieted Dinner at 5:30.
Sparring Session at 8.
She worked you around the clock, and still managed to get all of her other duties done with nothing short of perfection.
~~~
When you had first met Phasma, you were immediately intimidated and a little scared.
And when they paired her as your mentor, you were at odds.
You had been picked up to be a covert operative, and the First Order had given you an Imperial Trooper Captain as your mentor…
But as soon as the Captain laid out her expectations, you quickly realized how serious and skilled she was.
She could without a doubt train an assassin.
~~~
Phasma threw another punch, but this one you didn’t dodge in time…
Her fist collided with your face, causing you to stumble back and fall on your ass.
You groaned in frustration.
You would never beat this woman…
“Again.” Phasma ordered.
You huffed, rubbing your nose slightly and then realizing your nose was bleeding…
Oh well…
you thought as you got back up, your breathing labored and your body sore and aching.
Again and again Phasma struck you down, until she had decided it was enough for today.
“You can go. I expect you here at 4:30am sharp.” Phasma commanded, before leaving you on the floor of the sparring ring.
You groaned again in frustration, smacking your hand against the mat in anger but quickly recoiling in pain.
You winced at your bruised hand, as images of Phasma pinning you down flashed in your head.
You sighed, feeling your core tense and heated as it usually was after your more intense sparring sessions.
You just couldn’t help it…
Sparring Sessions we’re the only time that Phasma ever took off her entire armor.
Or at least the only time in which you were ever present…
Every time she shoved you to the ground, brushed against your shoulder, pinned you to the floor, or just touches you in any way, sparks of electricity were sent or your core.
You knew this was dangerous…
This was not the business for developing feelings.
But you couldn’t stop what you felt.
So you suppressed it.
Unfortunately for you, that meant your mind only brought it up more…
So every night, once Phasma had ended your session, you were finally able to relieve the painful ache in between your legs before going to bed.
~~~
The next morning you dragged yourself out of bed and into your training clothes.
You were tired and your mind was still fuzzy.
Today was leg day, so your mourning training would be in the weight room.
No one was awake at this hour, let alone lifting weights, so you walked the corridors in silence, which made you only more tired.
You entered the weight room with a yawn to find Phasma in her sparring wear still, leaning against a wall with a wicked smirk on her face.
You closed the door.
“Your late.” She sneered.
“Sorry… What will it be this time?” You mumbled.
Whenever you were late, Phasma would punish you with intense physical regimes…
“Something new…” Phasma taunted with that devilish smirk.
“Ok…” you said, not understanding what was going on with her.
“You know, I have to do security camera checks every few months. I did one last night.” She purred.
This was a new tone…
“Oh?”
She didn’t usually make small talk…
“Yes… And I saw something interesting…” her eyes twinkled with a new, dark substance.
Your stomache dropped.
She knew.
She had to know.
You hummed in response, not being able to form any words as your mind was spiraling.
“So today, we will be trying out a new punishment…” Phasma tauntingly purred.
You gulped.
Her tone sent shivers down your spine and sparks to your core.
“Yes Ma’am.” you whispered.
“Oh no, that won’t do… What was it you called me last night and the many nights before that…?” She wickedly toyed with you.
She’s seen the other ones as well…
You were so Fucked.
“I asked you a question, trainee.” Phasma jeered.
“Mommy…” you whispered, eyes glued to the floor and an intense blush scoring your face.
But this wasn’t satisfactory for Phasma.
“Look me in the eyes when you tell me what you call me when your hand in inbetween your legs and your screaming my name in pleasure.” Phasma lustfully commanded, her eyes now completely dark with lust.
You whimpered and looked into her hungry, lustful eyes, “Mommy…”
Phasma hummed and proceeded to straddle a weight lifting bench.
“Bend over Mommy’s lap.” She ordered.
“I… what..?” You breathlessly stuttered.
Phasma darkly chuckled, “Make Mommy repeat herself again and your punishment will be far worse…”
You audibly gulped, making Phasma grin at the effect she had on you.
You immediately went over to her and practically collapsed over her lap, your wobbly knees giving in.
Phasma then pulled down your pants along with your knickers and spread your legs so that your ass was raised her for her.
“Count. If you stop, forget, or miscount, Mommy starts over. Understand?” She jeered.
“Yes mommy…” you whimpered, wiggling your ass slightly in anticipation.
“Already so needy aren’t you, slut?” Phasma tauntingly purred.
But before you could say anything—
Smack!
Phasma had smacked her hand against your ass, hard…
You yelped and jolted forward a bit, “Fuck! One…”
“One what?” She sneered.
“One Mommy…!” You immediately replied, hoping she still counted that.
Her hum of approval told you that it counted.
Whack!
“Two Mommy!!” you yelped, your ass turning a blush pink color.
Crack!
“Threeeeeee fuck Mommy…!” You groaned.
“Such a slut…” Phasma chuckled.
Thwack!
“Four Mommy please…!” You mewled, your ass approaching tomato redness.
“Begging will get you nowhere, not when your being punished…”
Snap!
“F…FIVE Mommy!!” you cried out, the sting becoming harsher.
“I can already see your glistening slickness, slut… Is that all for mommy?” Phasma taunted.
Smack!
“Six Mommy yes yes all for you…!!” you cried, tears starting to well up and trickle down your face.
Phasma hummed in delight.
Whack!
“Sev—Seven! Mommy please Im… I’m sorry please!!” You stuttered in a cry, burring your face in her lap to muffle your sinful sounds.
But Phasma was quick to pull your head back up.
“No no slut… I get to here you…” she wickedly purred.
Crack!
“Eight FUCK Mommy!!” you cried, your voice going shrill.
Wetness was dripping down your inner thighs at this point.
Thwack!
“GOD please Nine Mommy…!!” you screamed.
“God won’t help you now…” Phasma chuckled, “Last one if your good, slut…”
“I’ll be good so good please mommy please!!” You plead.
Smack!
“TEN MOMMY!!” you cried out.
Phasma then started to rub your red, raw ass lightly, causing you to let out a breath of relief.
She then lowered her lips to the shell of your ear and whispered,
“If you ever touch yourself without my permission again, I’ll bend you over my lap and spank you in the dining hall in front of everyone…”
You gulped.
“Yes mommy…” you choked out, your voice strained.
You squirmed in her lap, suddenly feeling extremely desperate and in need of relief.
Phasma darkly chuckled at your efforts, and she easily picked you up to straddle her thigh.
Instinctually, you bucked your hips against the blondes toned thigh.
But she stopped your administrations.
“Tell me what you want, slut…” she purred in your ear.
“Wanna Ride your thigh and cum on it… please mommy…?” You whimpered, desperate for some friction.
“Alright, slut… ride my thigh…” she permitted.
But you didn’t ride her thigh, no…
You rutted against her thigh.
Fast, sloppy jerkings of your hips as you desperately fucked yourself on her thigh…
You fell apart in minutes.
Your body spasming and collapsing on top of Phasma.
“Thank you mommy…” you mumbled.
Phasma chuckled and rolled her eyes, “If you ever call me that when it’s outside this scenario, I will kill you myself slowly and painfully.”
#may the 4th be with you#may the fourth be with you#captain phasma x reader#captain phasma#captain phasma smut#captain phasma x you#captain phasma x y/n#phasma star wars#star wars phasma#captain phasma star wars#phasma smut#phasma x reader#phasma x y/n#star wars x y/n#star wars self insert#star wars sequel trilogy#star wars sequel fic#star wars x reader#star wars smut#star wars fanfiction#star wars#star wars day#gwendoline christie#gwendolineuniverse#gwendoline christie x reader#gwendoline christie character#lesbian#lesbian fic#mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy?#mommy
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Yes Captain part 2 NSFW
Captain Phasma x fem reader
Previous / Next / Series
Summary: - you try to make your way back to your room but are struggling. You bump into your friend again who asks about your session. Phasma goes back to her room and pleasures herself.
Warnings: masturbation, fake cock, vibrator, squirting
Requests open
Guys I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise I had only posted half the story. I write my stories in a separate document and then copy and past it here! So here it’s is again with the whole story!
———————————
After Phasma left you in the shower block you had no idea what to do. What even just happened? You were trying to process everything that just happened in the last hour and a half and nothing was adding up. Why did Phasma even want to fuck you? Did she like you the same way you liked her? Either way you didn’t want whatever this was between the two of you to stop.
You managed to waddle out of the shower but your legs felt like jelly so immediately you collapsed onto the bench in the middle of the changing room. Jesus christ what has this woman done to you? You slowly got dressed, drying yourself, before grabbing your stuff to head back to your room.
You sat down on the bench once you were fully dressed and wondered how long you would be sitting there before you felt comfortable to move again. After 10 minutes you decided to finally try to stand up and head back to your room. As you stood you felt your legs start to wobble so you quickly grabbed the bench again. Once you felt the strength return to your body you started the walk back to your quarters.
You slowly made your way there trying your best to walk as normal as possible but that was proving much harder than it looked. As you were making your way back you happened to bump into your friend that you had spoken to earlier before training started. “Sooo how was it?” he asked you. You froze in place. Did he know what happened? “Ummm what do you mean ‘how was it’?” you questioned trying your best not to look guilty.
“You're training you idiot. Well it can’t have been that bad if you didn’t even know what I was going on about. How did you manage to get Captain in a better mood anyway? I couldn’t get anything out of her when I did my training and she definitely showed how pissed off she was” he chuckled slightly trying to get the information out of you.
“Oh training, yeah it was alright. She was definitely in some kind of mood but she seemed alright with me. Might have been because I just got on with what she asked of me” you laughed slightly because deep down you knew what the real truth was. “Well I just hope that she is in a better mood tomorrow because I can’t be dealing with it again for a second day of training” he sighed. “Yeah, hopefully. Well anyway I’m gonna get going, I’m pretty tired and need to get some rest” you said trying your best to wrap up the conversation.
“No worries y/n, you do always seem to be on the later training sessions. Well I will see you around” he said walking off in the opposite direction as you waddled back to your room. Once you were there you turned on your light before walking into the room. You decide to get straight to bed because you were going to need all the energy you had for tomorrow.
While you were trying to recover from what Phasma had done to you she was happily doing her own things to herself. She had been too focused on making you cum that she forget to cum as well and now here she is left feeling horny as fuck and you’re not here to resolve that issue.
As soon as she walked through the doors of her quarters the door locked and she immediately stripped off all her clothes. She was far too hot and these clothes weren’t helping. She could feel the throbbing between her legs get worse and worse and all she could think about was making herself cum to the thought of you over and over again.
She made her way to her bedroom opening up her bedside drawer to reveal a selection of toys that she could use on herself. There laid neatly was a black and red dildo, a vibrator and a bottle of lube. The naughty things she was thinking about at that moment were insane. If people were able to read minds she wouldn’t want anyone reading her’s.
Phasma grabbed everything she wanted out of her drawer, chucking it onto the bed ready for her to use. She then crawled onto the bed letting herself spread out in the centre of it. She let her hand travel down her body as she traced patterns with the tips of her fingers making her body shiver under her own touch. She let her hand travel down to the ache in her core, sliding a finger between her wet folds.
Phamsa moaned at her own touch as she felt her fingers run through her folds, collecting the wetness on the tips of her fingers. Slowly she pushed two fingers deep into her dripping core with her long slender fingers. She moaned at the sudden fullness before slowly starting to increase her movements. As she increased the pace in which she pumped her fingers she slowly started to circle her clit with her other hand.
She started to buck her hips into her own hand as she felt herself getting closer and closer to cumming. She was so close as she felt her legs try to close around her hands. She was so sensitive and was struggling to keep her legs open. How desperate she was to have you here so you could force her legs to stay open. She could feel herself getting closer as her legs started to shake at the pleasure she was creating.
“Yes! Right there y/n! Don’t stop! Make daddy cum” she moaned as she finally tipped herself over the edge as she continued to scream your name. She slowly started to decrease her pace in which she was fucking herself before slowly removing her fingers from her cunt. Her fingers instantly went to her mouth so she could suck the cum off her own fingers as she imagined it was you instead of her.
She laid there spread out on the bed as she enjoyed her post orgasm bliss but as she laid there she felt the same sensation coming straight back. Fuck sake she thought to herself. She just made herself cum and her body still wanted more. She looked at the two toys she had in front of her and decided to use the vibrator on her throbbing clit.
She always managed to get an intense orgasm out of her vibrator so decided that it was the right choice. She spread her legs once again as she turned the vibrator on the lowest setting. She placed the toy on her clit and immediately felt her toes curl. She was still so sensitive from the first orgasm.
Once she had adjusted the strength of the vibrator she slowly started to increase the speed of the vibrations which caused her to start moaning at the sudden powerful sensation that was focused purely on her clit. She laid back and enjoyed the feeling of the vibrating and pulsating that she could feel of her clit.
As she laid there in pure ecstasy she imagined you being there with her holding the vibrator to her core, teasing her with the pleasure she was receiving, demanding you to stop being a tease and actually letting her cum from the pleasure. Yes Phasma was dominant in bed but she has never been opposed to being slightly submissive as long as she still has the power.
She felt herself getting closer and closer, her legs once again starting to shake again as she felt the wave of her orgasm take over once again. “Fuck! Yes right there y/n! Make daddy cum! You’re such a good girl” she screamed as the orgasm took over her body. She immediately took the vibrator away from her clit as soon as she came down from her high, laying spread out on the bed once again.
As she came down from her high she felt like she was all done for the evening leaving her body satisfied but boy was she still wrong. “Fuck this shit” she groaned as she grabbed the dildo and coated it with lube. She lined it up to her entrance before slowly pushing the cock into her moaning at the sudden fullness she felt.
“Fuck” she groaned as she slowly started to increase the speed in which she fucked herself. This felt so good she thought to herself as she continued to fuck herself imaging you with a strap-on doing it to her instead. This felt so wrong but yet it felt so right. This is where she wanted to spend the rest of her life. In total bliss being pleasured by you.
Oh what it would be like if you were actually there fucking her instead of her having to fuck herself. She continued to pump the toy in and out of her getting closer once again. She started to clench around the toy and as she came on the toy she ended up squirting and making a mess everywhere.
Fuck she had never made herself squirt let alone to the thought of anyone. She cleaned herself up and changed the sheets before laying back on the bed. With her body finally feeling satisfied she curled up in bed and drifted off to sleep. You were going to be the death of her.
#gwendoline christie#gwendolineuniverse#fanfics#captain phasma x reader#captain phasma#captain phasma smut#phasma x y/n#phasma x reader#lesbian smut#star wars#stormtrooper#masterbation#yes captain#yes captain series#brienneoftarth1989
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hello officially requesting sex pollen phasma fic as discussed >:)
it's here :)))))))
please do not hesitate to leave a comment if you feel so inclined, it makes my heart sing <3333
#captain phasma#captain phasma x reader#phasma x reader#star wars#star wars sequel trilogy#gwendoline christie#this fic is downright depraved lol#i will produce my own garbage and also consume it
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Gwendoline Christie
flirts, cute (ig), confused, they are in love. but they don't know.
GIF NOT MINE
[Just flirt. They are in love, especially reader. God. i love Gwen. Gwendoline and her Bf have an open relationship and are ok with having other relationships, but love each other *in this fic*. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE]
Gwendoline Christie x Famous!Reader?
-
These days, everything just feels like a loop. Invitations, invitations and more invitations for parties, fashion shows and work. You felt full of it. You wake up and have to go straight to some meeting, you wake up and have to go somewhere, just to stare at people talking, you wake up...and you have people peppering you with questions and asking you to step on them. Not that you hate your fans, but you're just tired. You need some time. You are overloaded.
Sitting at one of the tables, not far from the stage, watching another fashion show that you were invited to and had to attend, because your husband is obsessed with money and knows that the source of all this is you. You let out a sigh, hoping this will be over soon. With the way you are barely able to concentrate on the show in front of you right now, you know this day is going to be unbearably long.
After trying and failing miserably to pay attention to the presenter on the stage, you decide to give up. You've given yourself a good forty minutes of trying, but your interest in what’s going on is non-existent and you're more than convinced that if you need whatever he's presenting, chances are it's already in the package you got.
What you still don't know is how you're going to spend the rest of your time. Not wanting to be too disrespectful by using your cell phone mid-presentation, you grab your not-so-big bag and pull out a blank piece of paper and a pen just to do some random doodling. Aimless. But sadly, drawing eyes or hands are no longer on your to-do list. But even so, you continue to draw, your eyes almost closing from sleep. A few minutes go by and you're just getting even more bored. Somehow while drawing you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. This is starting to make you uncomfortable. With a spunk of curiosity you lift your head to look around, trying not to be too obvious for everyone to notice. You can the other tables in the room, trying to discover the source of the sensation. When you finally achieve what you've been unknowingly looking for, you feel your breath hitch at the sight. All you find is a woman watching you like you’re a piece of art.
And in your opinion, this woman could be a painting that came to life. As you stare at the woman, you can tell that she could be the most beautiful woman in the world. Her medium blonde hair with curls like a tangle of beauty. An invitation to affection, the strands making small curves, like a smile. Unlike you,who’s pretty much just awkward, the rest of her is something like everything that could be described as something indescribable, the picture of professionalism. The delicate white skin that you would love to touch with your kindness, the lips of blood that boil not for heat but for love, the crystalline eyes, so deep that they carry more stories than a book can tell. It's the color of someone who carries something more than windows of the soul on her face; it's brute strength, beautiful and affectionate. That pulls your eyes to hers The irises of her eyes being the true art-stained space. Eyes you find hard to look away from.
Still sitting and looking at the woman, you can tell she noticed the red in your cheeks, shoulders and collarbone. Just like her, after being caught looking. But she doesn't look away, being unflinching with her eye contact. Her focus makes you even more flushed and confused, which makes you feel that the look isn't for you. After scanning the room thoroughly for the second time. You're sure the looks is for you, and it makes you cringe a little. Meeting her eyes again, you see that she smiles a little wider as she sees that you finally understand that she is looking at you.
But the universe might not want you to have a distraction or something. The man on stage calls your name, grabbing your attention. He’s talking about the models and the shows. Congratulations to you, since You helped with this. But now, really? The man continues, trying to keep your attention.
Try as you might, you can't break free of the woman's gaze. Smiling gently at the man, the rest of the adults and your husband standing around, you can't help, but steal some looks in the woman's direction. It's like you're stuck like this. And sometimes you can catch her looking and it's emotional, leaving warm little goofy smiles when you catch her looking. It's more exciting to know that she's interested in you and the game you've played with her. When everyone was up for the treats you got out of your chair so fast, you almost fell. You noticed the woman laughing and you're not sure how, but you somehow heard it. You just want her with now, because the sound was the most divine thing you ever heard.
"Are you well?"
Your husband asked, a small tone of false concern in his voice. You just wave chim away. Not much dialogue, just looking for the woman in the crowd. Your interest in her just grows, you want to go to her. But you’re failing. So you decide to go ask your close friends about this woman. Whispering to the not so short woman to your left you ask: *f/n = friend name*
"f/n do you know who this woman is?"
"Which one?"
"That one. Medium blonde hair, red lips, tall and pink dress."
You gesture vaguely in the direction of the mystery woman, not wanting to be too obvious.
"Oh, her. Her name is Gwendoline Christie, an actress who works with Tim Burton."
"Oh okay. Thanks."
"Why the question? Don't say something is going on."
Your friend whispers questioningly, with a rather interesting face and a sly smile. You just shrug your shoulders and curse under your breath. Going back to looking at the woman, she looks like she is not noticing you, she's talking to a man with glasses. They look really close. You blink with a frown on your face but try not to care too much and just walk over to the treats. Flirting certainly made the time pass faster than expected, but it also does something else. It made your heart beat faster in anticipation. What you have no idea. And hope to feel that, again. Take a moment to consider her thoughtfully, looking unobviously in your direction, for which you are more than grateful.
—
inspiration from: Know Your Name. An fanfic in AO3 with Larissa x Reader.
Hope u liked this <3
I think i am going to make a part two 💀
(person who helped edited for a better english, bc Idk nothing: @lils-cards love u)
—
- baby gwen have my heart rn
GIF NOT MINE
#gwendoline christie#larissa weems#brienne of tarth#phasma#lady jane#miranda hilmarson#lucifer morningstar#fem reader#gender neutral reader#larissa weems x reader#brienne x reader#phasma x reader#miranda hilmarson x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#gwendoline x reader#gwendoline have my heart#lady jane hit me#i want her#i want her so bad#gwendoline simps#im a simp#fluffy#confused#flirt#jan stevens#jan stevens x reader#i forgot jan tags#help#fiction#gwendolineuniverse
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🖤She’s All That I’ve Got - Captain Phasma x fem!Reader🖤
Royalty Enemies to Lovers Au
Fanfiction master list
Summary: y/n's kingdom has fallen under the iron fist of the Empire despite her best efforts. But, much to her surprise, she's been allowed to live. She knows that Ren must want something from her or her kingdom, but that's for the future. as of right now, she has been granted permission to move about the grounds as she might have normally before. However, she will always be under the watchful eye of Ren's trusted Captain Phasma, head of his stormtrooper army…
Warnings: mentions of death, near violence
Word Count: 2,448
A/N: here's my first real medieval Au! Reader is referred to as high priestess instead of princess just because I like it better, but both titles are synonyms so they can be used interchangeably. And for a little lore dump, I wanted to keep the same kind of weapons and designs since this is StarWars, but troopers instead have normal swords and medieval-akin weapons while Jedi (or ren in this case) still has a lightsaber. but rather than being made of tech it's kind of like an enchanted sword thanks to the kyber crystal embedded in the handle. The force also exists, but its viewed more so as sorcery
She’s All That I’ve Got Tag List: @idontlikepexple
Captain Phasma Tag List:
General Tag List: @summergeezburr
-🖤-
Never before would you have anticipated finding so much comfort in your father’s untimely death. Yet, you are, curled up in the corner of a locked cell, deep in your castle's dungeon. Your day dress had grown muddled with mildew and general stone grime. This of course was due to the dungeon's lack of maintenance, because why would you clean it regularly when no one would be held down there? Your small country had come upon a benevolent time of peace after all. Or at least it had been a time of calm before the Empire decided it needed to step in.
Your eyes had begun to burn now having run dry from tears. You knew they would be red by now. Puffy and sore from rubbing them raw in an attempt to keep what little composure you could still. They’d locked you down here hours ago. How many hours was up for anyone to say, but it had been some time. The invasion had ceased outside the walls of your castle, but you could still hear your people's faint cries and shouts in your mind's eye.
Even if you'd done everything you possibly could, there had to have been something that had slipped your mind. This had to have been avoidable, right? You tisked yourself for the consideration. Your father wouldn’t have dwelled on this had it been him locked in this muddy cell. He would have held his chin up and found some sort of resolution. Well, you weren't your father. And by the look of things, you wouldn’t be leaving this cell for some time. Maybe yous die here. That sounded about right. You'd die here on the cold and wet stone floor only to be reunited with your father once again in the afterlife. Or maybe the empire would spare you the time and host one of those lovely public executions in front of the dwindling number of your people that would venture into the square. You weren't sure which you'd prefer at this point.
It appeared you'd get your answer in a matter of minutes as you heard the low, growling scrape of the dungeon door as it ground against the stone floor, letting in the faintest light as two guards clamored down the stairs with a torch in hand. You scrambled to your feet. Pressing your back to the wall as they clanged toward your cell. You felt your breath quicken as the sound grew. Your feet squirmed under you, trying to warm your footing against the icy stone, though there was no real escape from the same stone chilling deep into your spine. The stormtroopers stopped abruptly, their black hole-like eyes boring into you as one fiddled with the keys to your cell. The door swung open with a clang that almost made you flinch but you held your ground.
“Master Ren is ready to speak with you,” one said. His voice was muffled and distorted by his faceless mask. Your muscles tensed as you flexed your fingers, squeezing your hands into tight fists. The troopers seemed to notice and subconsciously moved their hands to the hilts of their swords, firmly held at their hips. You forced yourself to relax, but still keep up your guard and nodded, telling them to lead the way. You approached the opened door, only to be stopped by a heald palm. You heard a tough clang of metal and looked down to find thick shackles held open to you. The trooper grunted at your hesitation, forcing you to reluctantly offer up your wrists. The metal was much colder on your skin than the cobblestone and it met your blood quickly thanks to your exposed pulse point.
The trooper locked your wrists in tight and tugged at the metal chain’ checking its integrity before he turned to leave. This trooper began to lead the way with you hesitantly training out of your cell from behind. The second trooper took his place at the back of your little train, following you close with his hand gripping his hilt if you made any effort to run.
Emerging from the underground, you were met with the disheartening sight of imperial flags hanging high from the walls where your home colors used to reside. They were lazily put off but were scorn a stomach-churning shade of blood red. And upon exiting your dungeon, you were flanked by two additional escorts who had likely been waiting in case you dashed while still downstairs. Walking down the long, winding halls you were greeted with even more troopers lining the walls, watching you with prying eyes as you passed.
Nevertheless, you held your head high. You refused to crumble, especially not in front of an audience. And oh, an audience you would have. Upon entering the throne room, formally your throne room, you were met with overwhelming sunlight and gaudy red redecoration. Stormtroopers lined the room, arms at the ready if you dared to run. And right above you, perched proudly on your father’s throne sat the revered and feared Master Ren. he watched you with keen eyes, his hand covering his chin and mouth. His brow was furrowed in consideration and you could have sworn he hadn't blinked since you entered his presence.
As you approached with your entourage of guards, the two at your sides peeled off but were replaced by the originals who walked in front and behind. Your eyes began to wander, scanning your crowded surroundings. You took note of the weasely redhead standing at Ren’s left hand. He held his head high with a scrunched nose and evident grimace. He looked at you as though you were scum that has scuffed his boot. You offered a minuscule glare in return till you were stopped by the troopers at your side, who grabbed onto either of your forearms. You were held still, exposed in front of Ren with your shackled hands and waterlogged skirts. But you kept your head up. You wouldn’t shy away, not even now when one might think you looked like a beggar.
Your eyes turned back to the General as he cleared his throat, he arched a brow and glanced at the ever-casual Ren, who nodded a finger without a word. Hux sniffed rather aggressively through his nose, then gave the guards at your sides a quick nod, and without any other form of warning, you were tossed to your knees in front of the throne, clumsily catching yourself with your shackled hands, which echoed a ghostly metal clang through the throne room. You managed to look up with a turnt grimace and a huff of exhaled air rustled loose hair that obstructed your face. This reaction seemed to mildly interest the lead invader but not by much. He sat up in your father’s chair, adjusting himself to get a better view of you.
“Prop her back up,” his voice reverberated off of the walls of your throne room, but still came across as quiet, strangely enough. The guard said as they were told, grabbing onto your shoulders and roughly pulling you up onto your knees. Ren watched with growing interest, though he still looked like he could yawn quite easily at any given moment. “You know why we’ve come, don’t you?” he gripped the arm of your father's chair as his eyes scanned down your kneeled form.
“I assume this is all an act of love or unity,” you bit back bitterly. “However you’re presenting yourselves these days,” you took in a long, loud breath through your nose, eyeing the Master and the General with a burning hatred in the crinkle of your nose and furrow of your brow. You saw a flex in the General’s frown, but Ren smiled. It was small, but a smile was there. He even let go of a low chuckle.
“I admire your moxie, high priestess,” he began. Your title rolled off his tongue in a sickeningly sweet tone that made your skin crawl. “But I must cut to my point, I’m afraid,” he sighed, growing board of you once more.
“I’ve decided to let you live,” he continued. Your eyes widened for a millisecond, but you insisted on keeping your surprise hidden tight under wraps. You couldn’t let him think you were grateful to him without risking inflating his already mountain-like ego. “However, of course, there must be conditions,” you bit the inside of your cheek at that, holding your tongue. Now it was time for Hux to speak up, for he cleared his throat quite loudly to grab your attention from his superior. You’d already grown further irritated by the man’s weaselly face and screwed frown.
“You will be confined to the palace grounds at all times unless chaperoned by Master Ren himself. You are to stay out of all diplomacy, again, unless asked of by Master Ren,” you grew flabbergasted by what you were hearing and scoffed rather loudly, stopping Hux as he licked his lips to list off the last of your conditions.
“You want me as a figurehead!” you barked. You swore you could hear gasping muffled under stormtrooper helmets as her room hushed. The General gritted his teeth and gripped the hilt of his weapon tight in his hand as he strode down the staircase before you.
“You wretched girl-” he started. You pressed your lips in a fine line, ready for some type of impact as you squeezed your eyes shut, but the impact never struck. You heard pained grunting and upon opening your eyes again, the General stood tall before you, sword only partly drawn from its hilt.
But the man couldn’t move. He has been frozen where he stood. Your breath had quickened but you dared to look behind him, only to find Master Ren having stood from the throne, hand outstretched as he watched Hux with shakingly focused eyes. You swallowed thickly, eyes returning to Hux who looked like he might turn purple if he wasn’t allowed air soon.
You’d never seen sorcery like this in your life but your father had told you animated stories back when you were just a girl. He regaled the days when magic like this had been loved and revered, seen as a thing of light and peace. You'd learned and read all about the original sorcerer's order and how they made it their mission to preserve life and balance. Yet over the years it had become tainted, resulting in tyrants like Ren and his new order. Hux was released and nearly collapsed to the ground at your knees, but he managed to hold himself. He averted his eyes as he caught his breath, coughing as he took in previously denied air. You thought that you could almost smell the embarrassment on him.
“Now, that’s no way to address our guest,” Ren said with a snide hint in his voice. It was clear that he enjoyed the opportunity to one-up and show off to his general. That made sense, if you thought about it. A tyrant’s primary goal is to impress those they find small and weak. And guest? You held your tone, but how dare he call you a guest when he was sitting proudly in your chair and your house? You let out a huffed breath as Hux turned tail and took his post once more.
“But yes, a figurehead, if you will,” Ren lowered himself back to his seat, crossing his leg over his knee as he lounged. He waved his hand back to Hux, urging the general to continue as he continued to watch you curiously. The general readjusted his uniform, offered his superior a silent glare, and cleared his throat once more.
“When you are not accompanying Ren, you will be escorted everywhere by the head of our guard, Captain Phasma,” Hux snapped his gloved hand and the aforementioned Captain seemed to emerge from the shadows of Ren and his newly claimed throne. The first thing you took note of was that the captain was tall. Even from the distance you were at, you knew they were tall. Taller than both Hux and Ren. but besides that, there was nothing else about them you could gather. They hid their face behind a similar helmet to the members of their guard, only their armor was forged from shining platinum, aiding in their standout-ish demeanor.
“Phasma will watch your every move and report back any suspicious activity that she might find, so no point trying anything,” Hux hissed, trying so hard to buy back any respect you might have had for him before. You were more held up watching the statuelike captain, but you did ponder part of what the general has said. She. The captain that stood taller than both her superiors was a she. Now, this fact didn’t change anything, but it did peak the bit of curiosity you still harbored.
“Any questions?” the weasel interjected back into your thoughts. You turned to him with your hardest stare, then trained your eyes back on Ren.
“No,”
“Then that will be all,” Hux answered for Ren and turned on his heels in a hurry to leave the throne room. “Captain, you may take your leave and escort the high priestess to her quarters” the guards still standing at your side grabbed your underarms without warning and hoisted you to your feet. The Captain began her descent down the stairs, her footsteps echoing louder as she approached. A small part of you wanted to squirm at the grips on your arms, but you held your ground, standing as tall as you could and taking deep breaths. The captain stopped just a stride in front of you, tilting her helmeted head to the side ever so slightly as though she was observing you. And who was to say she wasn’t? It was impossible to tell with the helmet after all.
“Shall we leave, high priestess?” Her voice was lower than you might have expected, yet you found the question more surprising. You must have expected a demand from her before being asked a question. You nodded, possibly having grown trimmed due to her stature in front of you, or maybe from the illusion of you having a choice at all. She nodded to the guards at your side, who released your arms and turned around. Before you turned with them, you caught sight of Ren, moving to leave the say way the General had. He watched you leave with hard eyes and his lips squeezed together momentarily, almost as though he had more to say. But time had run short and you were forced to leave with your new entourage.
#captain phasma#captain phasma x reader#phasma x reader#gwendoline christie#gwendoline christie x reader#starwars x reader#medieval au#royalty au
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writelist
star wars
⭑ kylo ren
⭑ general hux
⭑ phasma
⭑ perhaps others (ask!)
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fnaf
⭑ william afton/steve raglan
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harry potter
⭑ severus snape
⭑ lucius malfoy
-
#fan fiction#smut#x reader#male reader#star wars#star wars fan fiction#star wars smut#kylo ren#kylo ren smut#kylo ren x reader#kylo ren x male reader#general hux#general hux smut#general hux x reader#general hux x male reader#phasma#phasma smut#phasma x reader#phasma x male reader#severus snape x reader#lucius malfoy x reader#william afton x reader#william afton x male reader#steve raglan x reader#steve raglan x male reader#trans masc reader#ftm reader#nonbinary reader#gender neutral reader
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Can we please give a round of applause for the writers who write the most unholy, jaw dropping, leg shaking smut🤭
#brienne of tarth#gwendoline christie#jan stevens#lady jane#lucifer#miranda hilmarson#captain phasma#jane murdstone#larrisa weems#gwen#natasha romanoff x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#alcina dimitrescu x reader#smut
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I immediately thought of lady d when i saw this pic of Gwen
#GWENDOLINE CHRISTIE IS THE PERFECT LADY DIMITRESCU#Someone give her a hat#gwendoline christie#gwendolineuniverse#larissa weems#brienne of tarth#captain phasma#game of thrones#lucifer sandman#miranda hilmarson#star wars#the sandman#wednesday#lgbtq#lady dimitrescu#alcina dimitriscu x reader#resident evil#alcina dimitrescu
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Captain Phasma Masterlist ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
rules and other masterlists can be found here
🔥 smut - ☁️ fluff - 🌪 angst
Captain Phasma x fem!reader
Forget-me-not 🌪
#captain phasma x reader#phasma x reader#captain phasma masterlist#weemssapphic#weemssapphic masterlist
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Hear me out because I absolutely need an enemies to lovers style captain Phasma X jedi reader hate fuck
Ooooooooh yes! I would absolutely love to write this 🤤 This takes place before episode 7 btw, when the first order is looking for Skywalker but hasn’t captured Poe yet.
Rock Bottom ~Captain Phasma xFem Jedi!Reader
Mommy…Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, enemies to lovers, degrading kink, strap fucking, hate fucking, grey/questionable consent area…?, etc…
Enjoy (;
It was the time of the First Order. And they were desperate for Luke Skywalker.
Recently, there had been a tip off of an extremely powerful jedi hiding off on a deserted moon on the edge of the galaxy.
The tip off had said a jedi had shut down a First Order inspection of the moon with ease.
“Sir, we’re coming up on the moon.” a first order officer reported to Kylo Ren.
“Good. Captain, I want you to at my side.” Ren commanded, motioning towards Phasma.
“Yes, sir.” Phasma replied.
The first order’s ship landed on the deserted moon and began their search for Skywalker.
The nearby suns were cresting at high noon, when Ren tilted his head sensing a pull from the force.
“This way.” He directed the selective group of troopers.
The group made their way through a thick forest before coming to a clearing with a hut in the middle of it.
There was still smoke coming from the chimney…
“Captain, take a line of men to make sure he doesn’t escape. The rest of you, surround the hut.” Ren ordered
The men slowly crept up around the hut, as Phasma took some troopers to the edge of the forest.
Phasma watched as the men then invaded the hut with shouts.
But it was empty…
Suddenly, Phasma heard a snap of a twig behind her.
She turned around and caught a glimpse of something rustling away from her position.
“Lieutenant, keep the troopers in formation!” Phasma shouted as she ran off to follow the movement.
From a distance one could see the lieutenant terrified and explaining the situation to Kylo Ren, who was quick to follow the Captain.
As Phasma ran deeper into the woods, so did you.
You both could feel Ren on your heels.
You were a surviving jedi who had barely escaped with your life on multiple occasions now.
As you ran through the trees, you tripped.
You tripped and hit your head on a tree stump.
Hard.
You tried to get up and keep running but you were met with a blackened vision and immediate dizziness.
You could barely see a shimmering trooper running towards you.
And that’s when you passed out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You had been the captive of Ren for a week now.
Or at least that was your guess.
You were held in a windowless room and tortured on the regular.
What you assumed to be every day, Ren would come in and try and extract the location of Skywalker from you.
But you couldn’t tell him.
You didn’t know.
After what you assumed to be three weeks, Ren was getting frustrated.
You had been trained explicitly for using the force as a defense for the mind and Ren couldn’t penetrate you.
One particular harsh day, Ren was going on for hours…
After awhile, Captain Phasma stepped in and requested Ren.
With a huff, Ren stepped back from you, who was on the border of unconsciousness.
“If you’d let me take a stab at her, I’m sure I could have her talking.”
You heard the Captain say in a muffled tone.
Then you vaguely recall seeing a frustrated Kylo Ren storm off.
You sighed.
You assumed that meant you were done for the day.
But the Captain then came in.
She then proceeded to undo you from the torture chair and drag you down the hallway to your cell.
She threw you on the ground and turned around to close and lock the door.
You tried to stifle a groan, but it slipped out anyway.
You heard Phasma chuckle.
You got yourself to lean against the cell wall and looked to find Phasma standing and leaning against the opposing wall.
“You’re a curious one, aren’t you, jedi scum…” Phasma stated.
You said nothing but simply stared her down with your body shaking and your breathing labored.
Phasma then crouched down, mere inches away from your face, and you raised your head to meet her helmet.
“I’ll have you talking in days…” She taunted, although her tone was extremely serious.
You dryly laughed a bit, “What are you gonna do, torture me?”
At your words, her hand was on your neck and squeezing.
You whimpered at the touch, unable to stifle your sounds.
“You’re going to wish I tortured you…” She seethed.
She then let you go and left with a slam of the door.
You gasped for air.
On the other side, you could hear a muffled Phasma yelling, “No on is to go in there and no one is to give her anything!”
It was then that your body gave out on you and lost consciousness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You spent the next few days in the dark with no one and no food and no water.
Finally, you heard the click of the door and light flooded into your cell, causing your cell lights to switch on as well.
You winced.
The door closed again and you heard the click of the lock.
Once your eyes had adjusted, you saw a tall woman in front of you.
Fuck was she stunning…
Your thoughts had started to spiral from all the depravity from the last few days.
She was wearing a basic training uniform, but she didn’t look like a basic first order trooper…
You could spend days imaging what she’d look like underneath that ill suited uniform…
The woman crouched down to your lied down figure, grabbing you by the chin and lifting you to your feet.
Successfully pinning you to the wall.
“Does my Jedi scum feel like talking now…?” Phasma jeered.
Oh Fuck…
It clicked for you now.
It was Phasma…
“Fuck you!” You spat in her face.
Phasma chuckled darkly.
“Just remember I gave you a way out…” She sneered with glimmering eyes.
Your stomache was a pit…
You knew very well what tension was between the two of you…
Without warning, Phasma flipped you around, caging your hands above your head with one hand and tilting her chin sideways with her other.
Your breathing was erratic.
Your pupils were blown wide.
“You want something scum?” Phasma taunted.
You gulped and stayed silent.
She then pressed her body against yours, squishing you against the wall.
Oh, OHhhHHh Fuck…
You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your throat from the bulge you felt ghost grinding against your ass.
She was packing…
You were trying your best to take deep breaths, but your body was reacting against your will.
You found yourself pressing your ass against her bulge.
Phasma wickedly chuckled again, “Already so needy, slut?” she taunted you.
Your heart raced tripled at that nickname…
“No...” You gritted out, which both of you knew was an obvious lie…
“Really?” She mock-taunted, “So if I were to slip my finger in your cunt, your telling me that you wouldn’t be soaked and your walls wouldn’t flutter in desperation…”
You shuddered at her words and tried to stifle the moan that came up at the idea of someone touching you…
Especially her…
But before you could process anything else, you felt Phasmas fingers ghosting the back waistband of your pants.
“Why don’t we find out how much of a slut you really are, scum…” She lustfully jeered.
With that, she had hooked your pants with her finger and dropped them to the floor.
You gasped as the cold air hit your wobbly legs.
“Oh my, do I make your knees weak, slut…?” Phasma taunted.
You merely whimpered in response.
With that, you could feel Phasmas fingers slipping under your underwear and finding exactly what she had been looking for…
“Fuck jedi, you’re dripping…” she breathed out, her own voice faltering.
Your face went red with embarrassment and shame.
You weren’t supposed to feel this way…
And she knew that…
She was exploiting that…
You tried to squeeze your thighs together at that, but Phasma was quick to stop you by shoving your legs apart with her own.
She then removed her fingers from your soaked cunt, eliticing another whimper from you.
“Are you ready to talk yet, slut? Or do you need further encouragement…?” She jeered into your ear.
“Fuck you…!” You spat yet again.
Phasma chuckled and continued her taunts, “Seems like the slut needs to be taught a lesson…”
In seconds, Phasmas trousers and underwear were lowered so that now you could feel her strap right on your ass…
She moved your body in one swoop so that your ass was sticking out more and your legs were widened.
“Please…” you whimpered, at this point you were so conflicted you didn’t know what you were begging for…
With her available fingers, Phasma moved your underwear to the side and placed her dick right on your clit.
At this your hips bucked forward.
“Please God please…!” You cried out, half of you begging her to stop, the other half begging her to fuck you dumb…
“You asked for it, slut…” She breathed, her voice coated in lustful venom.
Her hips then thrusted her dick straight into your aching hole with no warning and no time to adjust.
It was impossible to contain your cries this time.
Phasma began to pound into from behind as you writhed and screamed in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
“OhHhh God right there…!!” you cried out as Phasma bottomed you out.
“That’s right. I am your God…” She hissed in your ear, while relentlessly hitting your g-spot without fail with every single thrust.
Your legs were trembling so badly now, they were threatening to collapse…
Your breathing was erratic and all over the fucking place…
As much as you hated to admit it, you were gonna fucking cum…
And Phasma knew it.
“Oh my, does my slut wanna cum…?” She taunted.
“I… please… don’t stop…!!” You spurted out your words, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Tears were now streaming down your eyes.
This was so wrong…
You could feel yourself about to tip over the edge and one last thrust from Phasma did it.
The orgasmic wave hit you like a brick wall…
Your eyes rolled back and your body spasmed against your captor.
Your screams were so out of control, Phasma had to quickly clasp your mouth shut.
After a minute, Phasma pulled out of you and unclasped her hands from your mouth, and you immediately collapsed on the floor, panting like a fucking dog and your mind reeling from what you had just done.
Phasma took the time to collect herself as well, the silence being a pleasantry for both of you.
You were the one who broke it.
“I don’t know where Skywalker is…” you whispered, looking up to your captor with a tear stained face.
Phasma met your gaze and lightly chuckled.
“I believe you.”
#captain phasma#enemies to lovers#captain phasma smut#captain phasma x reader#captain phasma x y/n#captain phasma x you#phasma x reader#phasma smut#phasma#phasma star wars#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars x reader#star wars smut#star wars x y/n#star wars sequel trilogy#star wars self insert#star wars sequel fic#star wars sequals#star wars series#star wars x you#star wars x oc#star wars captain phasma#step on me#lesbian fic#lesbian#gwendoline christie#gwendolineuniverse#gwendoline christie character#gwendoline christie x reader
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“This was sooooo goooood…😛 Can you do a smut for our Captain Phasma? Wiiith Daddy vibes 😏😎” requested by Nicole on A03
Yes Captain NSFW
Captain Phasma x fem reader
Next / Series
Summary: It’s that time of the month where mandatory training is necessary. You and Phasma have your one-on-one training session but things get a bit heated.
Warnings: daddy kink, dom/sun kink, fingering, cunnilingus, begging, overstimulation
Requests open
———————————
It’s that time of the month again, mandatory training. This was never something you enjoyed but in order to be kept in good shape it was necessary. It was a week-long training regime and the last two days were spent doing one on one sessions with your division leader. In your case that was Captain Phasma. For whatever reason you were always the last one called for one to one training which meant you had the whole day to do whatever you wanted.
You decided that you needed to be productive today because you knew if you weren’t then you would most likely get a bollocking from Phasma later tonight. So throughout the day you were in and out of the gym making sure that you were keeping on top of your physical health. If you weren’t in the gym then you were in your quarters brushing up on your studies.
It’s important that as a stormtrooper that we know what is going on and that when technology advances we are learning how to run the new equipment correctly. It’s happened before when people haven't kept up with their work and accidents have happened because of it. Thankfully no one has been seriously injured from these accidents yet but the aircrafts ended up getting the most damaged which is costly to repair.
At about 16:00 you decided to retire to your quarters after coming out of the gym for the last time. You needed to relax to make sure you rested well for the evening. Your time slot always seemed to land between 20:00 till 22:00 at night. It was a bit late for your likings but you weren’t going to tell that to Captain Phasma.
You decided that a nap would most likely be the best idea. You got changed into some more comfortable clothing before jumping into your single bed. It wasn’t the best but it does its job. You set an alarm to wake you up in three hours so it would still give you an hour to sort yourself out. You let sleep overtake your aching body as you snuggled up in bed.
Three hours later your alarm was blaring in your ear. You lazily rolled over, turning the alarm off. You really couldn’t be bothered to move but you knew if you didn’t you would regret it later. You managed to pull yourself out of bed taking yourself over to the small kitchen to make something for dinner.
A cheese omelette was your meal tonight. You needed the protein and it would keep you full for a while. After dinner you made yourself a protein shake that you could drink between now and the end of your training. You also decided to fill another bottle up with ice cold water. You were definitely going to need it because you knew how rough Phasma could get.
Once that was all sorted you got into some clean workout gear. It was now 19:30 so all you had to do now was wait in your quarters until Phasma called you down to the training centre. While you waited you continued to drink your protein shake while watching some intergalactic television. Nothing interesting was ever on but it was better than sitting in silence.
At about 19:55 you finally heard Phasma call you down to the training centre. Finally you thought to yourself. You would much rather be doing something productive rather than sitting in your quarters waiting around. You grabbed your drinks, your training towel and a snack before walking down to the training centre.
As you were about to walk in, one of your friends who had obviously just finished their own one-on-one training quickly grabbed your hand before entering the room. “I would be careful tonight y/n” he said, making you stop in your tracks. “What do you mean?” you asked confused as to what could be happening.
“Captain is on one tonight. Everything is pissing her off. I made the slightest error and she basically exploded” he said with a worried expression plastered on his face. “I’m sure I will be fine. She has probably had a rough day and taking it out on us once again” you laughed slightly.
His facial expressions did not change. He was serious. “Ok thanks for the heads up. I will try my best not to piss off the Captain anymore than she is” you said to him before opening the door and making your way into the training centre. You went into the locker room placing your towel and snack on one of the benches before grabbing your drink and heading to the training room where hopefully you would find Phasma.
Any other time you would put your belongings in a locker but as it was just you and Phasma in the training centre you didn’t think it was necessary. Plus the only thing you would be missing was a towel and your snack so nothing valuable. When you finally made it to the room you would be training in you could see Phasma pacing back and forth waiting for you to arrive. You were early so they couldn’t be angry so you thought.
“You’re late,” Phasma said with a stern look plastered on her face. “Sorry Captain it won’t happen again” you said as you placed your drink on the ground and stood to attention waiting for Captain Phasma’s orders. “First hour you will be doing shooting practice with a variety of weapons. Second hour we will be doing one-on-one sparring practice in the gym” she said walking over to the shooting range as you followed behind her.
You saw a number of different weapons set up in one of the cubicles that you assumed Phasma wanted you at. “Alright, I want you to be working on your aim today with a variety of different weapons. I will be observing you in a number of different ways. If I believe you are not up to standard then you will have to make time for more training in the firing range” she said sitting down grabbing a clipboard.
“You may begin” she said as you walked up to the weapons picking from the range in front of you. The task was relatively simple for you as you trained everyday in the firing range. You could tell Phasma was impressed as you got headshot after headshot with each weapon. When you got to the final weapon you realised that this was one that you had not worked with before.
You aimed the weapon but due to the power of it the shot missed the target completely. You tried again but yet again missed. You sighed out of frustration as this was the one weapon you couldn’t seem to fire correctly. “Don’t worry about it y/n, just keep practising with this one in your training. Other than that you have passed this with flying colours” Phasma said looking at you.
She could tell you were disappointed but just let you get on with things. “You have a 10 minute break and then I want you in the sparring room” she said, putting down her clipboard and walking out of the firing range. You went back to the locker room to have your snack and just waited for the 10 minutes to go by.
Once your break was over you made your way over to the sparring room to see Phasma in a tight tank top and sport leggings. Fuck she was hot. You’ve never seen Phasma like this. Normally Phasma is always in her armour so to see her like this made your core ache. No one knew that you liked women so you really had to keep things together.
“Alright so for our sparring session today we are going to be working on your defence. I will be making a number of moves at you and I want you to defend yourself the best you can with just your hands. This will hopefully help you if you ever get disarmed” she said, getting into her fighting stance.
You readied yourself and waited for her attack on you. She made her first move which you were able to block. You continued to do this dance where she would lunge at you and you defended yourself stopping yourself from landing on your arse. However as the session continued you found yourself getting tired which caused you to lose focus on the task at hand.
Eventually Phasma managed to knock you on your back which resulted in you just lying on the floor. “Fuck sake” you mumbled to yourself out of frustration. “Again” Phasma said, waiting for you to get back on your feet. You got back up and the same thing happened again however the last time you ended up on your back you grabbed Phasma bringing her with you.
So there you both laid with Phasma pinning you to the ground however as she went to get up her knee grinded against your aching core which caused you to let out a moan. “Mmm fuck daddy” you whispered thinking Phasma didn’t hear. However when you looked up your eyes immediately met Phasma’s dark lust filled eyes.
“What did you say?” Phasma whispered in your ear. You didn’t know if you were in trouble or if Phasma felt the same way as you. “Ummm nothing” you whispered trying not to get yourself into more trouble. Phasma then moved her knee again so it came in contact with your covered cunt. “No, I believe you said something. What was it you called me? Daddy was it?” she moaned in your ear.
You let out a deep moan as you instinctively bucked your hip into her knee trying to pleasure yourself further. “What do you want daddy to do?” she moaned, continuing to bring you closer to an orgasm with her knee. “I want daddy to fuck me! Please daddy I need you to make me cum” you moaned into her neck.
You were so close to cumming and Phasma could tell because just when you were about to cum she pulled herself away from you causing you to let out a whimper. “You cum when daddy tells you to, do you understand?” she whispered in your ear. “Yes daddy” you whimpered.
“Good now stand up and strip, daddy is going to worship that perfect body of yours” she said standing up allowing you to stand. While you started removing your clothes Phasma locked the door so no one would disturb you both. When she turned around you were still removing your clothes so she just stood and enjoyed the sight in front of her letting out a moan when you removed your bra and panties.
You looked up to see Phasma eyeing up your body enjoying the sight in front of her. This made you feel a tad self conscious so you instinctively tried to cover your body which was a grave mistake on your end. “Did daddy say you could do that?” she asked, walking over to you starting to lose her own clothing.
“N..No daddy” you whispered as you looked up into Phasma’s eyes. “On the floor with your legs spread and your arms above your head” she said sternly which made you follow her orders instantly. You gasped as your naked body came in contact with the cold floor which made Phasma chuckle.
“Don’t worry baby girl I will have you sweating in no time” she laughed as she crawled on top of you leaving red marks all down your neck, on your breasts before coming down to your dripping wet cunt. She slightly blew on your soaked pussy causing a shiver to shoot through your body. “All this for daddy? You’re dripping wet. How desperate are you for me to touch you?” she moaned, leaving little kissing up your thighs and near your cunt but never on it.
“I need you daddy. I need your tongue, I need your fingers deep inside me. Please daddy fuck me” you moaned. That was all Phasma needed to hear before sliding her tongue up the length of your folds. You let out this ungodly moan at the touch of Phasma which only seemed to spur Phasma on even more.
She continued to use her tongue to taste your wetness before finally devouring your clit. She traced circles on your clit and on the odd occasion started suckling on it which made you buck your hips in pleasure and spread your legs even further to give Phasma better access to your aching cunt. You were getting close and Phasma could tell as your breaths were getting deeper and your moans getting louder.
“You going to cum for daddy?” Phasma said briefly before going back to paying attention to your throbbing clit. “Can I come daddy? Please, I'm so desperate for you. I want you to lick up all my cum daddy” you moaned throwing your head back as Phasma continued to torture your clit. “Cum for daddy baby girl” she moaned.
Upon hearing this you felt yourself cumming within an instance. “Fuck daddy I’m cu..cumming” you pratically screamed. Phasma helped you ride out your high before eventually just leaving little kitten licks on your clit which sent bolts of pleasure throughout your body. She wasn’t done with you and you knew it.
“Hands and knees now” Phasma said sitting up allowing you to get in the desired position she wanted you in. “Pick and number between one and four” Phasma simply stated once you were in the position she wanted you in. “Two” you said randomly. Upon hearing that Phasma sucked on her index and middle finger before slowly entering into your tight pussy.
“Fuck your so wet for daddy” she moaned into your ear as you leaned over your back wrapping her arms around your waist. You waited for her to move inside you but she didn’t. “Please daddy” you moaned out hoping Phasma understood what you wanted. Of course she knew but she wanted to hear you beg. “What do you say?” she asked. “Please daddy fuck me with your fingers” you moaned trying to move your hips slightly.
Thankfully Phasma didn’t notice that action of yours as she thrusted her fingers deep inside your pussy which caused you to scream at the sudden fullness in your pussy. Fuck she felt good you thought to yourself. Phasma eventually found a pace that seemed to get you to the edge quite quickly. “I n.need to c.cum” you moaned as you felt Phasma’s other hand make its way down to your clit and start rubbing small circles on it.
“Cum for daddy baby girl. I want you to cum over and over again for me” she moaned as she thrusted her fingers deeper and played with your clit and that's just what you did. You came not once, not twice but four more times. You were exhausted and overly sensitive. Phasma finally pulled out which resulted in you letting out a small whimper at the loss of contact but instantly moaned as you watched her suck your cum off her fingers.
“Go and get cleaned up. I will see around y/n” she said as she left you to sort yourself out. You couldn’t think straight. She had fucked you dumb. You decided that a cool shower should help your mind sober up from this. You made your way to the showers placing your clothes next to your towel. You turned on the water and immediately stood under the water.
Phasma was about to head back to her quarters but as she passed the shower block she realised you were still here. Maybe she could make you cum just one more time. She snuck into the shower block stripping off her clothes placing them next to yours before walking into your shower cubicle.
You had your back to her which made you jump when you felt a pair of big strong arms wrap their arms around your body. “Daddy is going to make you cum one more time” she moaned into your ear. Phasma rested her back against the wall as she pulled your body so your back was flush against her front.
Her hand travelled down your body and found its way to your sensitive clit once more. There was a little ledge in this shower cubicle so you lifted your leg letting it rest on the ledge which gave Phasma better access to your throbbing cunt. Unlike last time Phasma was much more gentle with her actions. She teased your clit as she rubbed small circles over it.
You were a moaning mess and Phasma loved the fact she could make you weak at the knees for her. Phasma could tell you were getting close once again as she started to feel your body shake slightly from the pleasure. “Cum for me baby girl. Cum for daddy” she moaned in your ear before marking up your neck.
You came instantly and you were weak at the knees. Phasma held you until you had finally gained the strength to stand again. “My quarters tomorrow night at 21:00. Don’t be late because daddy is gonna fuck you with his strap and destroy that pussy of yours” she moaned in your ear before leaving you in the shower, shock clearly plastered on your face.
What the hell happened tonight? You weren’t complaining and you couldn’t wait for Captain to fuck you senselessly again tomorrow night. You tried to walk back to your quarters but Captain Phasma had fucked you so good that you couldn’t walk properly. It looked like you wouldn’t be walking for days because Phasma clearly wasn’t done with you quite yet.
#gwendoline christie#gwendolineuniverse#fanfics#captain phasma x reader#captain phasma#captain phasma smut#daddy#dominate#dom/sub#training#star wars#stormtrooper#phasma x y/n#phasma x reader#yes captain#yes captain series#brienneoftarth1989
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Suits and Hallways (NSFW)
Captain Phasma x Reader
Phasma notices you staring.
First weekend in Smutember with @alexusonfire! The first week prompt is formal wear!
When you were invited to attend the officer gala, you hadn’t been expecting to be put in such a position as this. With your pressed against the cold metal wall, you felt your dress being shifted upwards around your hips.
You had on your formal dress, putting your best foot forward to make an impression on your higher ups. You thought you had done so when Phasma approached you. Moments ago you had been summoned to the deserted hallway by your captain, and with a viscous degree of roughness, Phasma had you up against the wall.
“Your eyes have been wandering far too much. You are beyond obvious with those disgusting thoughts of yours.” Phasma hissed, her hands working into the waistband of your underwear. It was unceremonious - the way the captain pushed her fingers between your folds and felt her way to your clit.
“Wet already?
You could only whimper. This felt so wrong. This was so unbecoming of a person of your status in the Empire. But you gave yourself over entirely, unable to say no to the alluring and handsome captain. This evening, she had been wearing a formal captain’s uniform that made your mouth water. The jacket fit her muscular shoulders perfectly and her pants were cut tight enough that nothing was left to the imagination. Your gaze must have caught her attention.
“You’re so fucking pathetic.” Phasma whispered, pressing the pads of her index and middle finger against your clit to rub circles against the bundle of nerves. The pressure of Phasma’s hand against the side of your head only seemed to increase as the degradation continued.
Phasma growled once more, her body weight fully pushed against you. Her voice was low and guttural, almost as if she were angry with you. In reality, it was all just a way to make sure she held dominance over you. “Do you like this? Do you like being treated like a stupid little slut?”
You remained silent, but this was clearly not the response the captain wanted. She pushed your face against the metal harder and the intensity of it all made tears prick in your eyes.
“Answer the question.”
“Yes…”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I like being treated like a- a stupid little slut…”
“That’s what I thought.”
The grip on your face loosened slightly as her fingers went back to work, circling your soaked clit with increased fervor. Her breath was hot in your ear as she panted slightly. If you could have see. her face, you would have seen the mild look of enjoyment plastered across her lips and brow.
The captain’s fingers worked their way back towards your slick heat and you gasped quietly as she wedged her fingers into your cunt. She offered you no time to adjust to her lengthy digits when she began pumping them in and out at a building pace.
Your little moans became more and more frequent. In spite of this, you attempted stifling them by clenching your teeth. When this failed, you drew a hand to your mouth and clamped your hand over it.
Phasma disapproved of this action and made her dissatisfaction known by releasing your head from her grasp and wrenching both of your hands behind your back. She held your wrists in a vice grip and began slowing her movements in your underwear, teasing you to the point you felt as if you could explode.
“P-please…” You begged Phasma, but she wasn’t interested in your pleas.
“You think you have the right to ask me for anything?” Phasma scoffed as her fingers left your cunt to wad the fabric of your underwear around her fist. There was the sound of seams popping and the discomforting pain that was Phasma ripping the fabric off your body. “Fucktoys don’t get a say.”
At the feeling of the cold night air against your pussy, you felt terribly exposed. Anyone could walk from the gala at any second and watch you being dominated by your captain.
Her fingers dove back into your cunt, pushing their way into your fluttering hole. The pleasure of being filled again had you doubling over - your forehead pressed to the cold metal wall while your hands were still ratcheted behind your back. Phasma began pounding your cunt with her fingers - the removal of your underwear was her way of removing the barrier that kept her from doing so earlier.
Your cheeks turned red when you thought you heard the slap of her hand against your cunt echoing through the empty hall. You were praying no one would find you, but first and foremost, you needed to cum.
“How long have you been wanting me to do this? Have you been watching me in the locker room? Or do you just fantasize about what’s under the armor? Is that why you can’t control yourself now?” From Phasma’s tone, one could tell she was smirking. She was so satisfied with herself for making another of her subordinates crumble.
“Y-you look so good in your suit…” You sob, unable to be dishonest about what drove you to stare.
“I know.”
The captain’s confidence was unbelievably sexy.
Suddenly, and without warning, you came hard, a strangled cry jumping from your throat. But Phasma wasn’t stopping there. Her rapid fingering continued, only now she released your arms and added her other hand to the mix. With her opposite hand, she began rubbing at your clit and you felt yourself losing all control.
“Silly little slut. What if the other lieutenants saw you like this? How would you feel?”
The captain was obviously trying to get a rise out of you, combining shame with your growing desire.
The skill held in her fingers made you dizzy. You knew if you ever had the chance to spend the night with her, Phasma would show you pleasures far beyond pushing you against a wall and fucking you silly.
As Phasma worked you towards another orgasm, a round of applause echoed from inside the gala hall. As much as you should have considered the possibility of someone exiting into the hall at any moment, you were far too focused on being pushed over the edge.
You finally came from Phasma slamming her fingers inside you, tipping you over the edge. Before you could process the blinding orgasm, Phasma growled, her hand squeezing your jaw into submission. “Open your mouth…”
You opened your mouth the rest of the way and quickly realized Phasma intended on spitting in your mouth. You allowed it to happen, regardless. At this point, your only goal was appeasing her to hopefully make this occurrence happen again.
“Now get back to your quarters and clean yourself up.” Phasma pushed your face away from hers, and swatted you firmly on the ass, sending you on your way.
“Y-yes, captain.” You mutter, sending your gaze to the floor. Quickly, you began down the hallway - your face growing redder and redder as the realization of what just occurred hit you.
Before you could round the corner, you glanced back at Phasma, unable to help yourself. Your breath caught as you watched her push your discarded underwear into her pocket. You tore your gaze away and hurried down the hallway - face bright red as you attempted to comprehend what just happened.
Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife, @smutuniversesblog, @opheliauniverse, @enchantressb , @renravens @scream-queenlover , @shyladyfan , @mcufanisme , @peanutbutterprincess , @larissaoftarthweems , @principal-weems09 , @imlike-so-gaydude , @emilynissangtr , @xuukoo , @brienneswife , @oculusalien , @giogwensversion , @milciak @gela123 , @thevillagegay , @katiemcgrathsbitch1 , @naomi-m3ndez , @salems-spaghettios , @imgayforwoman69 @bychrissi , @h-doodles , @alexusonfire , @weemssapphic
#captain phasma#captain phasma x reader#star wars the last jedi#star wars tfa#star wars#star wars the force awakens#gwen christie#gwendoline christie#fanfic#oneshot#captain phasma smut#smut#smutember
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very unhappy with how her blaster rifle is turning out but i'm trusting the process
but yeah after literal months of doing fuck all i've finally made a bit more progress
#i have a feeling the rifle is gonna be the worst looking part of this#but it's fine#i may redraw it on a different layer and replace it later#idk#i'm coming off of a huge depressive slump so all i wanna do is MAKE THINGS#captain phasma#captain phasma x reader#gwendoline christie
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HELLO GOOD AFTERNOON, MOTHER IS MOTHERINGGGGGGGG 😩😩
#gwendoline christie#gwendolineuniverse#larissa weems#brienne of tarth#larissa weems x reader#gwen christie#captain phasma#MOTHERRRRR#SLAY GWEN#OBSSESED with the whole vibe fr#it's giving Jan Stevens#AND A FUCKING LOVE IT#😩😩😩
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