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fettuccin-e · 1 year ago

Note

PLEASE SMUT PROMPTS 1 AND 79 FOR POE DAMERON

nonnie when i went to look at the prompts you chose i literally gasped that is filthyyyy i LOVE it okay DOM POE DOM POE DOM POE holy shit i had so much fun writing this!!! thank you for requesting!!!

Tags: Poe Dameron x Reader, afab!fem!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Poe, fem!petnames, unprotected piv (don't be silly, wrap your willy), some light slapping (w/c: 810)

Prompt #1: “Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?” and Prompt #79: “I can be good, so good! I swear!”

Find the prompts for the 3K Celebration here!

He’s too fucking good at this. Too good at making you feel so fucking good, at making your head spin as he plays with your body like a toy. Poe is a confident man, sometimes too confident, and fuck, that comes through just fine in the privacy of your bedroom.

And Maker, there are rules. Rules that you’re supposed to follow when he’s got you at his mercy like this; no touching yourself, no touching him without permission. No cumming without permission. But stars, he’s fucking you like he’ll never get the chance to do it again, and he’s hitting that spot inside you just right, the spot that makes lightning shoot up your spine, the spot that only he’s able to find, over and over and over again.

“Poe, it’s too much- I can’t, oh stars, please let me cum, I-” you moan, but Poe only smiles, all teeth and absolutely feral, at your begging.

“Not yet, baby, gotta wait for me, right?” He shoves his hips forward just a little bit harder, but it’s enough to make you choke on a gasp as he presses in so hard and so deep that it brings tears to your eyes.

He slaps your thigh in warning. “Wait for me,” he growls.

But he doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that you’re already there, pleasure ricocheting up your body, your stomach tightening. And stars, he just keeps fucking you at that same devastating angle, getting you higher and higher and oh-

“Poe,” you gasp, choking on air, and fuck, it’s already too late.

You keen, tossing your head back into the pillows as you clench and gush around Poe’s cock, and he moans, fucking into you on pure instinct, prolonging your orgasm for just a few seconds longer. Maker, it’s so good, it feels so good, so perfect, that it feels like you haven’t broken any kind of rule at all.

Except you have, you’ve violated the rule without abandon, recklessly cumming around Poe’s cock. His hips come to a sudden stop, and it’s suddenly like you both have come back to yourselves.

You hesitantly meet his eyes and see him looking incredulously at you for a moment, like he can't believe what you've just done, before they inexplicably darken. You break his gaze immediately, heart beating so hard you swear it could break from your chest.

His hand grips your jaw without warning, forcing you to meet his eyes once again, and Maker, you’re done for. He smirks in a way that is just pure evil, as he growls, “I told you not to cum, baby.”

He pulls out of you without any kind of finesse, and lands a swift slap against your sensitive pussy, leaving you empty and stinging, all in a second. “Do I look like I’m messing around?” he snarls, “Do I look like I won’t punish you?”

“N-No, Poe,” you whine, and he lands another slap against your clit.

“Then why did you cum, sweetheart? What did I fucking tell you?” he shoves three swift fingers into you, and you can’t decide whether to be relieved that you’re being filled again, or mourn the fact that he didn’t give you his cock.

“Felt- oh Maker,” you gasp as he crooks those horrible fingers inside you. “Felt too good, Poe.”

“Yeah, honey?” He grins, like he can’t help being smug, and lands three slaps against your achy clit in quick succession. You have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming. “So greedy. What happened to the rules, baby? What happened to my good girl?”

You blink, squeezing overwhelmed tears out of your eyes as you wail, “I can be good! So good, I swear- fuck, I swear,” you whine, and he fucks his fingers furiously into your slick pussy.

“Can you baby?” he murmurs, leaning forward to speak against your lips in some semblance of a kiss. “If I give you my cock again, can you be the good, sweet, perfect girl I know you can be?”

You nod furiously, and he smiles, finally kissing you, long and deep, while he pulls his fingers out of you, and replaces them with his thick cock. Maker, he spreads you apart so fucking perfect, so deep, it’s like coming alive. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers against your lips, and you swear you can feel the way he throbs inside you.

As he finally bottoms out again against you, he smiles against your mouth again, murmuring, “I forgive you, my good girl.”

He pulls his hips back before fucking back into you, so rough the slap of your bodies meeting echoes in your ears. You try to breathe through how deep he is, deep enough that it forces the air out of your lungs.

He lands a swift smack against your clit, a reminder as he says, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

#hot diggity damn #i love me some dom poe #he's like actually my husband #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x you #poe dameron #poe dameron smut #star wars smut #star wars x you #star wars x reader

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cokoweee · 6 months ago

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The end is here.

She really doesn’t want to dwell on what he told her. Quite frankly she doesn’t want to see him for a solid week and deal with the awkward greetings that would surely come from this conversation, but she promised food and Kendra always delivers. So she pours herself into kneading the bread and shaping the dough into a perfect loaf.

He’s sitting on the couch staring into nothing again. She calls his name to let him know dinner is done but he doesn’t even acknowledge her. So she tries again. And again and again and again. Rolling her eyes she walks into the living room, a steaming bowl of soup in hand.

“ If you don’t get over here I will pour this soup all over you.”

No response. She debates chucking her shoe at him before deciding she didn’t feel like getting punched. Instead she opted for nudging his shoulder. He jolts, eyes wide as he looks at her.

“ Wha-“

“ Dinner is done” she interrupts, pushing the bowl of soup into his hands. “ The bread will be done cooking in a few minutes if you want to wait for that. Or you can eat the soup now and the bread when it’s done. I don’t care.”

He blinks slowly before nodding slightly and getting up slowly. Still looking a bit dazed as he walks back over to the kitchen to sit on a stool. He’s not leaking tears anymore so that’s good. They sit in a semi-comfortable silence eating their soup before he gets up.

“ Dinner was nice.” He says, his voice barley above a whisper, “ Thanks ” and heads toward the bathroom.

Kendra just sits. This was way above her level as roommate. Aside from the fact that he had made most of the meal and definitely did not need to be thanking her, she seriously did not need to be dealing with his trauma. That’s what she gets for accepting free rent. Beggars can’t be choosers she supposed.

He kind of wanted to die. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go. Sighing he looked into the mirror and froze. The mask she put on was nearly the same shade as his skin. It covers up his markings leaving him looking 16 again. Just how he looked when he lost his brothers. To make it worse his hair was wrapped in a purple satin bonnet. A reminder of his past decisions. He laughed, slightly manic, at the pure irony of it all. The leader of the clique he abandoned his sister for was living in his home. And he was more than fine with it.

The world crumpled around him as he stumbled away from the mirror sinking towards the ground. He couldn’t face himself. He couldn’t move. He failed them all. A sob erupted from his chest as he curled himself into a ball. He was dimly aware of the footsteps that signaled someone had walked in, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

In all her years Kendra has never heard a sound like that. She’d heard people break down as in juvy or as they left the therapy office, but not a single person managed to shine a light to the broken sobs coming from Othello. She had no idea how to handle the situation. But she really really couldn’t just leave him here shaking and huddled against the wall, boarder line hyperventilating as his eyes didn’t focus on anything. Apparently living with someone long enough gets you caring for them.

Gently wiping the mask of his face she runs through her options. She could offer a hug, or gentle words, or she could leave. She wasn’t sure how he would respond to anything seeing as didn’t seem to know quite where he was, so she opted for holding his hand and rubbing circles into his palm. He didn’t respond. Great. Just great. She sat there for a moment, holding his hand and trying to pretend this wasn’t happening to her.

She kept rubbing circles into his palm even as she pulled her phone out and pressed play on the music he had chosen earlier. Careful to keep her voice low and even as she started to sing along to the first song on the playlist, something from Frank Sinatra. She hated singing, but it wasn’t like he was aware enough to know it was her.

“ You ready to get that mask out?” She half whispered once the song finished, motioning toward the shower.

He didn’t seem to notice that she had even spoken at all. If anything the tears got stronger as she watched him. Ok fine. Words don’t work, but he can’t resist physical force… Hopefully.

Tapping him on the shoulder she managed to get him to be present enough to be guided/ shoved slowly to the shower. He sunk into the tub and curled up again, his tail wrapping around his legs like a vice. She turned the water on and rinsed the mask from his hair. He made to reaction, even when she accidentally pulled some of his hair as she was wringing the water out. It was almost scary to see him act like this. Almost.

He was soaked from head to toe and made no move to dry himself. But there was no way she was going let him leave the bathroom and make a mess of the floor. She didn’t want to leave him alone but she also wasn’t too keen on sitting next to a wet turtle until he calmed down or tired himself out enough to fall asleep. She was wet too, seeing as she had to crawl into the tub to make sure she actually cleaned his hair properly. Sighing she left to the laundry room in search of clean clothes. She loves her dad but being raised in the mindset of gotong royong was really coming to bite her in the butt.

His hair was braided into two long braids and then tied into little buns at the top of his head before a pair of overalls were thrown at him. He hadn’t even noticed that his clothes has been soaked in the shower. He wasn’t exactly sure where the overalls had come from, but anything was better than the now overstimulating feeling of wet clothes. The door was clicked shut as he stared at the fresh set of clothes. Silently thankful wet hair wasn’t cascading down his back he shed the layer of sopping wet clothes and pulled the fresh ones over himself. Then he sat back down. He didn’t want to move. He was still sobbing. He felt sick. The door opened again and he was nudged away from the wall and led toward the living room. A warm blanket was quickly wrapped around his as he was guided to the couch.

His hand was removed from the blanket after a moment and placed in hers as she carefully painted each nail a shade of his signature dark purple. He reached up to rub the tear stains from his cheeks before a hand stopped his. She tutted something about needing his nails to dry before reaching up and wiping his tears away herself. He felt like a child again and curled his legs to his chest as she grabbed his other hand. His nubs lacked a nail bed so she improvised, sticking a fake nail at the end of each one. She painted those too. He watched the whole time, his chest hitching as it tried to catch up with his disgusting display of emotion. It was getting kind of tiring.

You don’t deserve this. You aren’t deserving of love.

You stood there cradling your twin in your arms as he died. You watched your younger brother rip himself apart to bring a what was left of your twin through a portal. You did nothing as you watched your older brother waste away into nothing, didn’t even try to call the Baron, so sure you could fix it. You are the reason they are gone.

It was all his fault.

Sobs rip through this chest as he spirals. He’s not done, but his body decides that it’s done when he heaves. His dinner threatens to make a reappearance as he somehow manages to sob even harder. Clutching a hand to his mouth he manages to lift his head high enough to look at Kendra. She’s terrified, a hand hesitantly reaching out, not touching. He jerkily shakes his head and tries to ask for a bucket. The word seem stuck in his throat and he ends up just making garbled nonsense. She doesn’t make a move to grab anything until he makes an audible heaving noise. Her eyes widen larger as she runs to grab a bowl. It’s thrown against his stomach, the force of it causing him to gag. He ducks his head into the bowl as his stomach releases his dinner.

His throat burns as his stomach continues to try and empty itself despite already being empty. Bile dribbles from his mouth and drips into the bowl, the sound indistinguishable from the sound of his tears hitting the bottom. He wheezes again as thoughts continue to berate his mind.

Worthless. Pathetic. Stupid. What are you five? Grow up and get a grip. Go back to your lab and suffer alone.

He’s ripped from his spiral as he hears a familiar tune. A Jupiter Jim movie is currently blasting on the TV. He laughs a little, but it turns into a broken sob , as the fact that his brothers will never experience the movie with him again invades his mind. Determined to make himself invisible he wraps the blanket around himself as tight as he can.

Go to sleep. Relax.

It’s an aggressive switch from hatred to care and he wonders dimly just how much of the voices he heard were himself. Too tired to really care, he sinks into the corner of the couch. His head rests against the arm rest as the tears finally begin to slow. He tries to get them to stop completely, but ends up making annoying little noises that make it obvious he was trying to stop. He stops trying after a few minutes and condemns himself to the constant waterfall of tears.

His eyes are horrifically puffy and it was getting hard to keep them open. So he doesn’t try. He slowly nods off, tears and his favorite musical number washing over him.

When he startles awake he’s confused. This is definitely not his room. The day’s events come crashing down on him and he groans, dragging his hand over his face. A headache beats at his head as he glances around at the living room. A water bottle was placed on the table at the edge of the couch, as well as a bottle of ibuprofen and another bowl. He notices suddenly that his mouth still tastes like bile and takes a long draw from the bottle before swallowing the pills. His face is miraculously clean though. Guilt rips through him as he realizes Kendra must have cleaned the mess from his face while he slept. Trying not to dwell to much on that, he looks over at the table again. There’s a slice of bread there too, and a bottle of Gatorade, which he gladly uncaps and downs.

He’s about to get up when he notices a pressure shift against him. Kendra is asleep. She’s wearing one of his hoodies for some reason. It’s so big it practically swallows her, but she looks comfy. Her head is nestled into his side, her arm wrapped loosely around his middle, tightening slightly as he shifts. It’s a wonder he hadn’t noticed her against him sooner.

His chest tightens as he looks down at her. The way she’s curled against him reminds him of the way Mikey used to cling to him when they had sleepovers.

Was it selfish of him? To act like this? To cling to the past? To shut himself away while everyone else suffered? To force other people to care for him because he was too broken to help himself? To allow her to become a mirror of what he wanted more than anything? To force her into a mold she didn’t know she was even a part of all because he wants his brothers back?

He knows she’s not them, so why does he want her so close? It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t know how to feel about her. It’s not like he loves her. He loved his brothers, he loves Draxum and Cas to an extent, so it would make sense that he would learn to love Kendra too, in his unique familial bond way. But this is new, different, something he’s never felt before. How strange.

He probably needs to get Sheldon to run a health check because his heart is way to fast and he feels way too hot and it’s a getting a little hard to breathe.

He hates himself for even thinking it, but he wants her to feel the same way about him he feels about her. He knows it’s will never happen though. He’ll never be enough for her, and she’ll never settle for a husk of a man. Not even as a friend. She’s made that bit clear.

Part of him wants to go back to his own room and turn off the lights and lay there as he tries his best not to think. But the thought of leaving Kendra keeps him rooted to the couch. He doesn’t want to move away from her. So instead of fleeing to the safety of his lab he chooses to slowly remove the blanket he’s wrapped in and drape it over of her sleeping form. There’s a pause before he before gently lays his arm across her. She shifts again as he adjusts the blanket over her and he freezes. But she settles down again and buries her head closer against him. He likes it, he likes her so close to him, and he hates that he does. He doesn’t deserve this. His arm seems to have a mind of its own as a nub of a thumb absently strokes the skin on her cheek. The motion is soothing and he slowly drifts back to sleep. She’s going to kill him when she wakes up.

Fun fact : gotong royong is the concept of bearing burdens among members of a community/ family common in Indonesian cultures.

Well I hope y’all had fun, I know I did.

You

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