#soft!poe dameron x reader

[rellasnowheenim]

Tone laced with uncertainty, you fumble to find the right words. “It’ll be…messy.”

“I want it to be messy.”

*softly inhales* holy fuck-

“So fucking wet.” His voice is rough and wrecked.

tender

Poe Dameron x f!reader

Summary: You're miserable when you wake up overwhelmed by the ache of period pains, but Poe does his best to make you feel better—in more ways than one.

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, PERIOD SEX, fingering, BLOOD, fluff, soft Poe, filth

A/N: This is for @pumpkinpoes and the nonnie that sent in an additional request for it as well 💖. The introduction starts off with fluff, and then it's divided off where it dissolves into something far...filthier.

You wake to the feeling of a sharp stab of pain clawing its way through your abdomen, and a small whimper falls from your lips as you clutch the comforter closer to your chest. Poe stirs at the feeling of you tugging at the blankets, your sounds of discomfort pulling him from the edges of sleep, and he opens his eyes to find you curled into a miserable ball beside him. He scoots across the mattress, closing the gap between your bodies and resting a hand against the side of your face.

“Hey,” he murmurs gently, brushing his thumb over the curve of your jaw. “You okay?”

“No,” you whine, pressing your hand firmly against your stomach in a feeble attempt to stifle the agonizing throb.

“Is it…” he trails off.

“Yeah,” you breathe out between clenched teeth. 

He nods, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. Your consciousness floating somewhere between your desire to go back to sleep and the bright bursts of pain preventing you from doing so, you only vaguely register the shuffling noises coming from across the room. 

Poe returns a few moments later, urging you to roll onto your back. You glance at him, bewildered and annoyed at the request, until you notice the hot-water bottle he’s cradling in his hands. Once you adjust yourself, he places it over your stomach, and your eyes fall shut as the heat begins to soothe the pain’s sharp, biting edge into a dull ache. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

He walks off again, making his way back over with a mug. He sets it down on the small bedside table, and as you eye the steam rising from the tea, a pleasant floral scent wafts toward you. 

“Try drinking that when it cools down. It helps with inflammation.”

You offer him a grateful smile, wincing slightly as an insistent cramp overshadows the pleasant warmth on your abdomen. “Should I call you Dr. Dameron now, or what?”

Poe scratches the back of his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as he bites his lower lip and glances down at his feet. “My dad used to make that for my mom when I was younger.”

Your chest clenches, though this time it’s an ache in your heart at Poe’s mention of Shara. Lifting up your arms, you beckon him to climb back into bed with you, though you know all too well that he has a busy day ahead of him. He obliges anyway, slipping under the covers beside you, resting one arm over your chest and burrowing his face against the dip between your shoulder and neck.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it to today’s flight drills,” you lament, feeling weary at the mere thought of sitting in the cockpit of your X-wing and trying to focus on flying in between the nauseating waves of pain.

Poe’s hot breath tickles the soft, delicate skin of your neck as he chuckles, “Is this your way of getting out of that race you challenged me to last week? People are betting on us, you know.”

You turn your head sideways, coming nose to nose with him. 

“What’s the point in betting if I’m going to win anyway?” you smirk, though it ends up being a grimace as you twist your body at the feeling of another cramp coming on.

“We’ll see about that.”

Poe’s brown eyes sparkle with mirth, and he gently presses his mouth to yours, hand coming up to cup the side of your face as he distracts you from your discomfort with the plush feeling of his lips. He kisses you tenderly, his curls brushing against your face, fingers trailing over your collarbone, and your veins begin to ooze with warm, syrupy contentment. 

And while Poe offers to call off his own day entirely, you shoo him out the door as you take a sip from the mug of tea before collapsing back against the pillows.

--

You spend the day wrapped up in blankets, going so far as to take a hot shower before crawling back into your cocoon as you oscillate between bouts of nearly unbearable pain and few and far between moments of relief. When Poe finally makes his way home later, he doesn’t hesitate to join you back in bed after stripping off his flight suit and washing off the day’s grime.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he lays down on his side facing you, tilting your chin upward slightly and leaning in for a kiss.

“Like a Wookiee is trying to claw its way out of me,” you grumble.

“Okay, well I have an idea.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious as to what else Dr. Dameron could possibly have up his sleeve. “Do tell.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I’m willing to try anything at this point, Poe.”

“Roll over,” he instructs, though he doesn’t move to grab another hot-water bottle this time.

You shift onto your back, letting your head fall to the side on the pillow as you glance over at him curiously. Head propped up with one hand, he holds your gaze as he reaches out with the other, laying it atop your abdomen. His fingers begin to slip inside the waistband of your underwear, and your face heats up.

“Poe, what are you—“

“Trust me, please.”

“But I’m blee—“

“Let me do this,” he breathes out.

Your mouth snaps shut as his fingers trail over your folds, slick with blood. A wave of arousal courses through you as he slowly drags a digit through your slit, which you’re nearly ashamed to acknowledge. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper, heart pounding in your chest. 

“Does it feel good?” Poe asks calmly, pushing a finger into your entrance.

“Yes,” you breathe out, eyes snapping shut.

“Look at me.”

You tentatively open your eyes, and your breath hitches in your throat as you take notice of Poe’s heated gaze, his lust-blown pupils, the way his lips are slightly parted.

“It feels so good,” you whimper as he slides another finger into your wet cunt, your back arching up off of the mattress slightly.

“You’re allowed to enjoy this, baby,” he murmurs. “Relax.”

And so you do. 

You let yourself go boneless under Poe’s touch, legs spreading further apart as he shifts closer, leaning over top of you as he plunges a third finger inside of you. 

As Poe’s groin brushes against your hip, you can feel just how much he’s enjoying this, too. His hard shaft strains at the front of his boxers, and when you reach down to grasp it, he rocks into your touch, groaning. 

“Can I…” he trails off, panting.

“Please,” you nearly beg, fisting the collar of his shirt and pulling him on top of you entirely of you as you seek out his mouth in a desperate kiss. 

You shimmy out of your underwear, body thrumming with anticipation, and Poe reaches out toward the other side of the mattress, hand flopping around until he finds what he tossed there before getting back into bed with you: a towel.

Lifting your hips, Poe swiftly slides the material underneath of you before dipping back down to claim your mouth with his own again. He nips at your bottom lip as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Poe.”

He pauses. “Yes?”

Tone laced with uncertainty, you fumble to find the right words. “It’ll be…messy.”

He kisses you again, lips slotting against yours insistently, tongue darting its way past the seam of your mouth. You’re breathless once he stops, and his warmth breath dances over your wet, swollen lips.

“I want it to be messy.”

At that, he begins to sink his throbbing cock into your fluttering entrance. You both moan in unison at the ease with which his thick shaft penetrates your hole, your channel greedily sucking him in, slick with blood and arousal.

“Poe,” you whine, fingers digging into his back. “It feels—“

“I know,” he chokes out, forehead falling against yours, thumb stroking your collarbone.

“So fucking—“

“So fucking wet.” His voice is rough and wrecked.

You writhe underneath of him as Poe begins to work his cock in and out of you, the slick, damp sounds from each plunge into your cunt magnified by the additional fluids pouring out of you. Though he tries to maintain a rhythm as he repeatedly splits you open, you’re both too lost in way your nerves are on fire, dizzy with pleasure and need. 

The ache between your thighs drives a blazing path up your spine as you rock into Poe’s thrusts, and sweat begins to trickle down the side of your neck. His hands wander, pushing up your shirt to reveal your swollen breasts. A breathy sigh tumbles from your lips as he begins to fondle them, and you brazenly moan as he flicks his thumbs over your tender nipples.

Poe’s hot, wet mouth quickly replaces his hands, and your cunt throbs around his cock as he goes back and forth between your breasts, eagerly sucking at them. 

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, fingers tangling in his hair as you hold him there, urging him not to stop. 

He moans, teeth scraping over one of your nipples, hips stuttering as he continues to fuck you at a frantic pace. At the feeling of your pleasure nearing its peak, you reach between your bodies, but Poe beats you to it, fingers slick with blood and arousal as he begins to play with your clit.

Your muscles tighten in anticipation, body overloaded with the pleasure rippling through it, and your vision goes white when you climax finally punches through you. Limbs trembling, you gasp as Poe’s cock continues to piston in and out of your cunt while you soak his cock with your release. He cups the back of your head, kissing you hard as he slams inside of you to the hilt, moaning into your mouth as he empties himself deep within you.

Once you’ve milked every last drop of his seed, Poe carefully removes his softened cock from your channel. You both stare at one another, breathing hard, and as you feel his cum start to seep from your entrance, you realize what a fucking wet, sticky mess you’ve both made.

But before you can attempt to apologize or anything of the sort, still worried that perhaps this was a little too filthy for him, Poe cuts you off with an impish grin—

“Please tell me why we haven’t done that before."

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» POE DAMERON MASTERLIST » OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST

[rosesanddecay]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

You're Safe With Me

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 6: Sex Work

Summary: Poe gets captured on a mission and you're the closest to his last location.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

This prompt was super difficult and I have kind of just done something that vaguely relates to it.

Warnings: resistance!reader, bad guy here is VERY gross, imprisonment, slavery, implied future sex slave, kissing, sex pollen, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2131

When you’d been told that Poe had run into trouble during a supply run on Tel’Ra you’d expected jail, the first order, him hiding up somewhere with a blaster wound. 

You had not been expecting… this. 

You’d been the closest to the planet and had found the traders quickly when you landed. Only to find out that there had been a miscommunication somewhere. They had thought Poe was the payment, not the negotiator. 

Fucking hell.

You’d spend the better part of the last thirteen manic hours tracking him down, going from trader to trader until you got here, a meeting with the quadrant Tsar. 

He was a large Terlion, powerful in his golden armour. He’d greeted you in his native tongue, and you knew enough about the culture of Tel’Ra to reply in basic. If you even said one word in the Tsar’s language then that was all he would speak, and everything would get very messy. 

“This… humanoid,” the Tsar formed the word slowly, “He is yours?” 

You nod and he pauses.

“I paid good coin for him.”

“So you admit he’s here?” You keep your tone even and calm. 

The Tsar smiles and gestures to one of his guards, speaking in Krazel. You understand enough of the language to understand that they’re bringing Poe here. 

Relief floods your veins, that was something at least. 

“The traders had no right to sell him to you.” You repeat. 

“But a trade was made, wasn’t it? You received goods for him?” The Tsar smiles.

“The trade was for Keseun. Not him.” You swallow, the guards in the room make your skin crawl, there were too many. Even if they had been troopers there was no way you could get out of an altercation alive, besides Terlions were large, physically powerful. One alone could snap you in half with two fingers. 

You keep your chin held high, they respected confidence, straightforwardness. They wouldn’t attack unless you made a faux pas. 

The resistance needed them to stay outwardly neutral to the rebellion. The planet was no fan of the first order, but would trade with anyone that showed respect. 

You couldn’t blow this. 

“Keseun.” The Tsar repeats, stroking his chin. 

“I would offer you the same, for this inconvenience.” 

He nods slightly, thinking when the door opens and Poe is pushed into the room.

You try your very best to hide the shock on your face.

You’d assumed that he had been sold as a labourer, or a servant. Not as… not as a… 

Your gaze hinges on his scantily clad form, soft thin fabrics and lace and dripped in gold jewellery. 

Your mouth dries as heat runs along your skin. That’s when you notice his expression, the relief plasters all over his face as he sees you. 

You shake your head ever so slightly, trying to clear your not so pure thoughts, and chastising yourself. 

“This is the humanoid?” The Tsar asks, beckoning with his hand. The guard pushes Poe forward to him. 

He stumbles slightly, and you see the gold chains are not just for decoration. 

“Yes.” You nod. 

Now that he’s closer you can see the thin gold bar across his lips, the chain connecting around the back of his head, keeping his mouth closed.

The Tsar touches Poe’s cheek, grabbing hold of the back of his neck when he struggles and flinches away. He chuckles. “He is a spirited one.” He pulls Poe closer, forcing him into his lap and you stand, anger blazing through your veins. 

The guards around you tense, but you keep your hands open and away from your weapons.

The Tsar laughs again, waving his hand and the guards relax. 

Poe looks at you imploringly, at first you think he is begging for your help. But then you realise he is pleading for you to leave, for you to not get hurt for the sake of him. 

“He has quickly become my favourite.” The Tsar grumbles, holding Poe to him, “I will enjoy taking-”

“He is mine.” You snarl, taking a step forward. Oh, this was risky, far too risky, but you don’t know how else to play this. 

The Tsar raises an eyebrow, amused “Yours?” 

“Mine.” You swallow, you might as well go the whole distance now. “My mate. Mine.” 

Poe gives you a confused look as the Tsar freezes, his fingers digging into Poe’s side. This was a faux in Terlion culture, this had implications for the Tsar. 

“Your mate.” He repeats and you nod. 

“My mate.”

“You did not say this before, why?” There’s anger in his voice. 

“I did not want to cause embarrassment over a mistake, however, you touching him and flaunting,” you shake your head, injecting as much rage into your voice as you can to cover the panic. “I cannot stand for it.” 

The Tsar’s grip loosens on Poe, but there is fury burning in his gaze. “Humanoids… lie.”

“I am not lying about this-”

“I have no way of knowing if you are other than your word. Which is worth little.” 

You clench your jaw to stop it shaking. 

“If he is… yours. Then he would pass the test of Seva. He would resist the touch of anyone but you.”

You swallow. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You’d heard of Seva, a plant extract that caused extreme arousal that was banned in half of the galaxy and highly regulated in the other. It had been used in the past to prove the loyalty of royalty’s romantic partners. If someone took it and were truly devoted to their spouse then they would only accept the affections of that person while under the influence. But if they weren’t… well, anyone’s touch would do.

You and Poe weren’t together. This was going to end very, very badly. 

“I am insulted that-” You try to argue, but the Tsar cuts you off. 

“The test will be taken, and if he goes to you then you may take him from here without payment,” he pauses, “as I will deal with the traders myself, however if he doesn’t crave only your touch, I will keep him and wear your skin as a trophy and nail your tongue to the wall as a warning to other humanoid liars.” 

Somehow you keep his gaze. “Very well.” 

You were going to be sick. There had to be something, some way out of this. You rack your mind, searching for anything, anything.

A servant brings an ornate pot to the Tsar, bowing as they take off the lid and use a golden spoon to measure a serving of the fine seeds. 

The Tsar undoes one of the chains at the back of Poe’s head, finally allowing him to open his mouth. He looks at you, about to say your name. 

“It’s alright.” Your voice is soft, even. Somehow sure of itself even if nothing else about you is. 

He keeps his shining eyes fixed on you as he opens his mouth and swallows the seeds when offered. 

The servant steps back, retreating and the Tsar smiles. 

“It will only take a few moments, Seva is strong on humanoids.” He muses, “If he is not yours as you say, I will claim him now to relieve him of its effects.” 

Poe shivers, blinking hard. Heat starts to run along his skin, first like a gentle breeze, a caress that is not unwanted. 

The Tsar strokes his back amused as Poe shakes his head, trying to clear his quickly clouding vision. 

The touch is… nice. Soothing almost. Poe leans back into it, sighing. He needed to do something, there was something he was trying to remember… but his thoughts just wouldn’t hold. Would slip out of his grasp the second he tries to focus. 

A weight settles in his stomach, his muscles clenching. He wanted…

The Tsar laughs as Poe sighs, pushing back as he runs the tips of his fingers along his skin. Triumph in his eyes. He takes Poe’s chin and turns him towards himself.

Poe goes with the touch, lightheaded and… he freezes, pain spikes into his chest. There’s a pause, a look of horror on his face before he practically throws himself off the Tsar, and scrambles back. He shakes his head rapidly, his eyes wild and glazed. 

The Tsar frowned, about to speak. 

“Poe!” You rush forward, panic gripping your chest. “Are you a-”

The second he sees you, relief rushes into his mind, presses solidly into his bones. He grabs hold of you, his skin hot and sweaty, “Baby, baby, baby,” he slurs, practically sobbing as you help him to his feet. Which is easier said than done.

He presses his body against you, whining the second there is a fraction of space. 

“Poe, it’s okay,” You soothe, trying to keep him upright. 

He buries his face into your neck, shivering and breathing hard. “It hurts.” He whimpers and you hold him tighter. 

The Tsar drops to his knees, “A great insult has been cast to you by myself.” The guards all fall to their knees as well.

“I-” Your own gasp cuts you off as Poe kisses your neck, lightly sucking on your skin as he grinds his very obvious erection against your leg.

“I will sort this disservice with the traders, please, I offer any future trades to go directly through me and my house to ensure its standards.”  

“Thank you,” you manage to get out, as you grip Poe’s wrists to stop him from undressing you then and there. “There is no ill will, please let me leave you with Keseun as a sign of my appreciation.” 

The Tsar nods deeply, “I will accept, and will repay you for your generosity in the future.” 

Poe wriggles one hand free, pushing his fingers under your shirt.

“I, thank you,” you bow your head, “I need to be getting back to my ship and-”

Poe kisses your cheek, nipping lightly at your jaw as he tries to press his lips to yours. 

“Please,” The Tsar gestures to the side, “Let me show you our hospitality, at least while the effects are still strong in your mate.” 

You want to refuse, you want to get the hell out of there. But there’s no way you can get Poe to your ship like this. 

You nod and are quickly guided to a lavishly decorated room. You barely get the chance to thank the servant before Poe’s tongue is in your mouth. 

It’s dizzying, desperate the way he moves against you, how his hands slide and tug at your clothing. He pushes you back, up against the door.

“Poe– Poe,” You manage to pull yourself away, to resist getting caught up in his warmth. You have no idea how this worked out, maybe Poe had gotten himself together for long enough to throw himself away from the Tsar and to you? 

“You okay?” You hold his cheeks, stroking his feverish skin. 

“Need you,” he moans, his eyes soft and dilated. 

“I’m so sorry.” You mutter. God, you had to find something, do something, knock him out for a few hours until his body worked this out of its system. 

“Why? Why? You saved me.” He bites his lip, rubbing his hips against yours. 

“Hey, hey, let’s see if we can-”

“I love you, you know that?” 

You freeze, your mind blanking out for a second.

“Ever since Heiran. Ever since then, I knew it, I love you.”

“Poe, you’re not thinking straight, the, the S-”

“I should have kissed you on Heiran,” he closes his eyes, pressing his face into your hands and sighing. His skin is burning, desperate for the relief of your touch. “I should have kissed you after, I was scared. Scared you’d reject me…” His eyes are shining when they open, “But you can, you can say no. I won’t…”

He lets out the sweetest sob when you lightly kiss him, moaning into your mouth as you wrap your arms around him and pull him close.  

“I should have kissed you on Heiran,” you whisper, “I wanted to.”

He groans, rocking lightly against your legs to take the edge off the deep ache in his stomach. “I…” He bites his lip, it hurts. The weight is so much, too much. All consuming now that he knows you want him to. 

“Here, it’s okay,” you turn him around so that his back is flush with your chest. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” You kiss his temple, his skin feverish and sweaty as you slide your hand under the fabric around his waist.

He moans, grabbing hold of you desperately as your fingers touch his velvety length. 

“It’s okay.” You soothe as you start to stroke him in earnest. “You’re safe with me.”

Thank you for reading!

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[eyelessfaces]

three weeks

poe dameron x reader

summary: poe has never been gone that long since you started dating; mornings happen to feel warmer when he is home.

warnings: p with minimal plot....., morning sex, handjob, piv sex, hair pulling (POE RECEIVING), this isn't just corn I promise it's mostly sweet because your honor they are in LOVE

tags: f!reader, fluff, banter, teasing:)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

!!may the force be with you

You had fallen asleep to the featherlight stroke of his fingertips against your arm in his warm embrace; he had never been gone for that long since you started dating, and though you knew you would have to get used to being apart, you weren’t sure you actually would, ever. 

But if it always felt this way, always felt raw and pure when you found each other again like you had just fallen in love with each other all over again, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be torn apart from time to time.

His eyes are still shut when yours open, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as his slow, steady breath tells you he’s still asleep. It is quite rare for the both of you to be able to linger in bed and enjoy a morning together, he is most of the time already long gone when you wake up, even on his days off he still spends running around everywhere. 

You softly call his name when your hand comes to rest over his bare torso, fingers twisting with the chain around his neck, mouth pressing against the light stubble of his cheek.

He stirs softly, and his face contorts into a small yawn before he turns so he can nuzzle against your own. 

“Morning,” he rasps softly, voice cracking with sleep as his eyes remain shut. His hand slips under the sheets, settling over your hip, his throat vibrating with a low hum as your fingers gently weave through his thick, messy curls. His own fingers mirror yours when they slip under your shirt, rubbing patterns onto your skin; you always wonder how he’s so warm all the time, heat radiating off his body like a living radiator.

“Morning,” you reply in a soft exhale, smiling as he drowsily blinks at you. “Slept well?”

He hums in reflection. “Better than the past three weeks” he ultimately affirms, his lips faintly pecking at the corner of your mouth.

“Corny” you mock, sighing softly when he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“Factual” he counters as he squeezes your hip, causing you to softly yelp in surprise and make him breathe out a laugh against your shoulder. “May seem surprising, but I actually like sleeping by your side in my bed more than I like sleeping practically on the ground in a shitty tent.” he adds, leaving a kiss just above the collar of your shirt before turning around.

“I would’ve never guessed that.” you tease. Poe takes a look at the holographic clock, turning back to you with a small frown when he realizes what time it is. Your eyes widen playfully, “I took the morning off. Surprise”

“Ouhhh,” he chants with a snide smirk, his hand crawling higher under your shirt as he presses his body close to yours again. “What a nice surprise”

“First time we can spend the morning together,” you note.

“It happened before”

You scoff. “Not by the book. You ended up being late to your own meeting” you retort with a playful smirk. The memory makes your stomach flutter; he had been particularly needy and desperate that morning, and you had had trouble trying not to laugh when he showed up to the conference room with his hair all mussed up and a faint blush over his face.

“Alright, yeah, but neither of us would’ve been happy if I left the room to get to the meeting in time huh?” he smirks, leaning in to capture your lips in a quick kiss as his hand under your shirt tickles up your ribs. “We kinda were in the middle of something”

“That we were” you acquiesce with a grin, hands joining the back of his neck to pull him back to your face again. His lips push against yours in a bruising kiss now, his free hand grasping onto your chin to part your mouth so he can slip his tongue in. He somehow manages to feel even closer to you when he works his tongue against yours, his kiss hungry and demanding as he softly grinds his hips against yours, his touch warm and impatient; your soft moan resonates within him when he cups your breast under your shirt, squeezing it softly.

He pulls away so the both of you can catch your breath. “Eager much?” you ask against his mouth, his lips still brushing against yours. 

“I mean, three whole weeks of not being able to touch you baby.”

You smile, “Mhm” you mindlessly play with the curls at his nape, hands shifting to rest over his broad shoulders, your thumb gently rubbing over a small faded scar there. He presses his forehead against yours, his warm brown eyes boring into yours with that look you know all too well. 

“I missed you” he mutters, hand smoothing over the surface of your stomach. You smile as you softly trace his face, the light stubble prickling the tips of your fingers.

“I know.” you press your lips against his again, hands shifting to grasp onto his hair; he lets out a faint groan when you bite onto his bottom lip as you pull away from the kiss. “Let me get on top of you” you demand, poking his stomach playfully.

“Oh yeah baby” he rolls onto the side, letting himself lay back down beside you. “Wouldn’t say no to that” he chuckles, tucking both his hands behind his head, a sly smirk growing over his face as you chuckle and press your hands over his bare torso, shifting to sit over his lap, your knees at either side of his hips.

You scoff when you adjust your position, softly grinding against him. “You’re fully hard already? Not even letting me work for it? Wow”

“You got that kinda effect on me,” he sighs softly, hands grabbing your hips, caressing your sides under your shirt. “I told you, three whole weeks of not being able to touch you”

You chuckle mockingly, leaning closer to his face. “Yeah, don't tell me you didn't touch yourself though” you whisper teasingly; he scoffs and wraps a hand behind your head to bring you closer, letting his mouth wander here and there against your neck.

“My hand is nothing compared to you” he grins between kisses. You shift to the side, still pressed close to him, your hand sliding down his torso and stomach to eventually reach under his boxers. He lets out a lewd groan when your hand closes around him, his nose nestling behind your ear as you start to stroke him slowly.

“My hand better?” you ask, your other hand cupping the back of his head as he breathes out against the skin of your neck, the brush of his lips warm against your skin. He hums approvingly, thumbs rubbing at either side of your hips; he always has to touch you one way or another, no matter the situation. His mouth always has to be occupied too; the brush of his lips ignites a warmth within you as he leaves faint kisses under your ear and down your neck to your collarbone, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he bucks softly into your touch. 

“Feels so good baby” he mumbles, a loud moan leaving his mouth and his eyes squeezing shut when you twist your hand just the way he likes. “Fuck” he sighs, “You’re gonna get me off like that?”

“Got a problem with that commander?” you scoff in disbelief as you tease his slit with your thumb, your hand in his hair tugging on it so you can see his face.

He sighs a soft moan, his lust-blown eyes darting up to you. “No but– Fuck– I’d like to get inside you before I remember I actually have responsibilities even on my days off” he declares in a tone he knows by experience you can’t resist, his hand shifting to your thigh, caressing it up and down.

You sigh, “You’re so impatient it’s actually terrifying.” you say as you pull your hand out of the single piece of clothing covering him, made too tight now. “You should consider yourself lucky I can’t say no to anything you ask of me” he watches with a sly smile as you rid yourself of your underwear, sliding off his own before you move back to straddle him. 

“I do consider myself lucky” he grins as he looks you up and down, his gaze full of love as he runs his hands up and down your thighs; his fingers are calloused from pushing blaster triggers and hitting the control panel buttons of ships, but the gesture is overflowing with affection. “Look at you” he croons. “C’mon babe,” he playfully swats your thigh as he shifts to get more comfortable on the bed. “Save an X-wing, ride a pilot” he teases, drawing a stupid chuckle out of you. 

He huffs out a sigh of relief when you lower yourself down onto his cock, biting onto his bottom lip once you're fully seated as he looks down at where you're connected.

He frowns, looking back up at you when you don't move after that. “Something wrong?”

“No” you declare, not offering him any other explanation. He chuckles, confused as to why you're staying still over his lap, not moving an inch.

“What then. What are you doing babe” you try to hold back from smirking as you see him grow impatient, his fingers softly kneading the meat of your thighs, trying to make you roll your hips over him. “Move”

“No” you shake your head with an insolent smile. “You're inside me, that's it, that's what you wanted” he huffs out a disbelieving laugh, throwing his head back the same way he does when you crack him a shitty joke; he's not sure he's patient enough to really enjoy this kind of joke right at this moment. “We have all morning Poe” you whine, leaning over to sink your face into the crook of his neck and leave a trail of kisses that follow along his necklace.

“Fine” he grunts softly, his arm wrapping around you to let his hand rest against your back. 

A surprised, sharp yelp escapes you when he – without warning – maneuvers and flips you around, making you land on your back; all that training happens to be useful in bed, after all. Your eyes squeeze shut when he pushes into you, the stretch of him unfamiliar again after what seemed to be ages.

“Three weeks baby, three weeks” he rams his hips into yours, tucking his face into your shoulder. “I don't have all morning”

You cup the back of his neck, nails softly digging in his skin as you hold onto him tight, your legs wrapping around him; he’s rutting into you like you’re gonna slip away from him, escape like smoke curling around his fingers and fading into oblivion. “Missed this so much,” he sighs into your ear, his words slightly scattered by the force of his movements. “Missed you so much” 

You want to give him your reciprocation, but all that comes out of you is a broken whine when he manages to reach deeper inside you; your hands bury into his curls, slightly tugging on them in response, drawing the same kind of wrecked moan out of him.

“F–Fuck okay” he chokes out after a sharp thrust. “Don’t do that if you want me to last”

“What if I don’t want you to last”

He scoffs. “Then we’ll have to fuck again because I can’t get enough of you” he declares, pressing his mouth against yours to kiss you sloppily, your hand cupping the side of his face as he continues to fuck into you, not giving up on his rhythm. He hums as he desperately licks into your mouth, his thrusts growing messy when you purposefully pull on his hair again. “Sweetheart I’m not kidding” he warns in a breathy laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re gonna make me lose it”

You brush away the strands of hair falling over his face, “Then you better hurry making me come” you tease, making him huff out a sincere laugh.

But there is no challenge Poe Dameron doesn’t take seriously.

He fucks into you soft and deep, not letting up until he has you writhing underneath him, staving off his own release for yours. It almost feels like you’re melting into the mattress when you start to feel it, your fingers tightening in Poe's hair as he babbles incoherently into your ear, so close to his own peak; he finally lets himself go when you’re there, his stifled moan into your ear when he releases inside you extending the momentary haze buzzing in your head. 

It almost feels like you black out for a second; “Are you okay my love?” Poe asks concerned by your absent, weak blinks as his hand cups your face, his thumb gently tracing back and forth against your cheek. 

You offer him a small nod, and he shoots you a smile before kissing your forehead and jumping out of bed, coming back later with a washcloth to clean you up.

Then everything feels quiet again. The soft heaving of your breathing as his head rests over your stomach, his legs tangled with yours, the soft tickle of his fingers tracing circles and random shapes over any piece of bare skin he finds over you.

“I missed you too,” you declare in a weak mutter. “I didn’t say it back earlier.” 

You don’t see his smile, but you know it is there as he leaves a kiss over the surface of your tummy. He hums softly as you absent-mindedly play with his hair.

“I can't wait for this war to be over.” he admits. “We'll settle on Yavin, in a nice house not too far from my dad's,” he exhales softly through his nose at the idea of it all before he continues, “We'll have mornings to ourselves, like this, and we will have breakfast in our backyard where we’ll grow all kinds of plants and trees from all over the galaxy” he smiles, earning a sweet, longing chuckle from you that seems to still in the air. He pauses, waits for a moment before he says it– 

“I want to grow old with you.”

It’s in these moments that time feels like it slows down, but Poe sometimes wishes he could put this galaxy to a pause just so he could have more moments like these with you.

—

any and every comment is greatly appreciated!!

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[virtie333]

As someone who gets overstimulated by noise, and which often results in a migraine, I really FELT this one. To have the man of my dreams be the one to recognize and do something to help... perfect.

Hi there, I absolutely loved your story "You-o-meter", and I was wondering if you would be open to a request for something similar to that? I had an idea with Santi or Poe, with the reader either having sensitive ears or having a similar situation to what happened in the story with Nathan. And if you do Santi, maybe the reader gets scared of a loud gunshot or something?

Thanks so much for this prompt, Anon! Really enjoyed this. Hope you like what I did with it! 🧡

The space between words: Poe Dameron x GN!Reader

Summary: there’s never any peace and quiet with Poe Dameron around… or, is there? (This is about sensory overload but also it’s a super cute love story; because of course it is, so I think anyone could enjoy this even if that’s not something you deal with!).

Genre: it ends fluffy 🥰

Author’s note: this one is about reader experiencing sensory overload / overstimulation (reader is particularly sensitive to noise here rather than other forms of stimuli.) Hilarious fact - I wrote most of this in the midst of a week which was overloading me to the point I felt hungover. But, the glass is half full bc ha! At least it helped me get in the right headspace for this thing! 🤪

Warnings: sensory overload (especially noise), lots of descriptions of said stimuli (upfront, before the comfort arrives), reader is not overloaded by touch. Unspoken love. Generally fluffy / eventually cute. Hugs and luff. Mentions of canon-typical angst but only as a scene-setter. Quickly written not proofed. Oh and he calls reader “kiddo” but it’s just meant to be cute not an age thing at all.

It’s loud everywhere on base and it’s pretty hard to escape it. Near impossible on the days where you are rostered for duty, in fact.

There is the barking of orders in the command room. The tense, terse exchanges of tacticians, spit flying with every heartfelt enunciation. The grind of metal. That tinny punctuation and crank of tools in the hangar. The whirr of engines out on the duracrete and the beep of droids - well, kriffing everywhere. There’s Threeps babbling at you over your shoulder. Wracked, rhythmic sobs throbbing in the corridors like a pulse through an artery, perfectly in time and yet completely at odds with the clamour of jubilation from the makeshift bar across base.

It is near constant. Even the supposed avenues for winding down are loud. The pulse of the bass around the campsite. Lairy, throaty laughter from those necking fire whiskey. The only place you can retreat for a modicum of peace is the edge of the forest, but by the time you make it there after a long shift your head is already so bleary, throbbing, that even the mocking song of the cicadas is enough to send you over the edge.

You do what you can to subdue it. You wear ear loops to take the edge off of the decibels, but even then, without any circuit breaks it… builds up. For others, the noise seems to flow through them; dissipate. But for you it sticks. Settles. Accumulates. Fills you up like a bucket until you are spilling over.

Even aside from the noise, it is loud everywhere. There is the bold, blaring flight suit orange. The flashing blue of star maps and whizzing space. The palpable smell of fear too - and all these stimuli sometimes feel as deafening a tumult as the noise itself.

It all scrapes you. Grinds you down until your head throbs.

And then, because of course there is… on top of all that noise…. there is Poe kriffing Dameron. Poe, your shockingly handsome Commander. And, as per usual, the famously verbose man will not shut up.

You adore the guy. No, you really do - in that kind of harbouring a dead secret (presumably unrequited) love sorta way, your feelings for him excavated at the pit of every exhale, and and buried again with the tip of every in breath; circular, bedded deep and never straying too far from your chest. His voice might even be - hands down- the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. You could - and have - listen to him talk for hours on end with pleasure, when you’re feeling in the right spot to manage it. But, right this second?

Right this second, you cannot stand his jibber-jabbering.

He’s been talking for so long, and all you want is for this briefing to end so you can head back to your bunk. Your bunk being the only kriffing place around here that you can attempt to get some peace and quiet - at least, before the morning alarm sounds and you’re back at it all over again, that throb pushing out from beneath your skull and threatening to crack you open like a geejaw egg.

The lack of sleep doesn’t exactly help either. 16 hours on duty without relent. You know that you desperately need to recharge - reset and replenish your threshold for stimulation back to zero, before you surpass your limit. It’s just that, around here, everyone’s batteries are running low (even the droids’, thanks to those classic Resistance power cuts). So, during those times when you feel like taking a moment for yourself? You always feel like it would simply be taking too much. For goodness’ sake - Poe has soldiered on with concussion, a broken leg, and innumerable other ailments. You certainly don’t feel you deserve to duck out because it’s too kriffing loud.

Meanwhile, your commander is rattling things off now at pace, somehow animated and peppy at this makerforesaken hour (you know it’s not even as a result of the caf, because you drained the last of it).

So far, you’ve tried so hard to mask your discomfort throughout the briefing. You’ve put in effort to mirror the expression of the others around the table who are listening keenly. Hanging on his every word. You’ve tried so hard, but… after a double shift? You’re overstimulated enough that you actually feel physically nauseous. Panicked even, the anxiety buzzy throughout your body as you approach overwhelm - alarmingly quickly now.

Blissfully, there is a teeny tiny circuit break. A brief, blessed silence as Poe pauses to shuffle around some files on his datapad, and your body sags with momentary relief. Perhaps that false end to all this is why - as he resumes talking once again only moments later - you actually wince, sucking in air through your teeth and pinching the bridge of your nose as though you’re in physical pain when you realise it’s not over.

Well. You are. You are in physical pain.

The whole table swivels to look at you now, as your sharp sound slices through the room. To them, it’s quiet in here -which you find inexplicable- and your “interruption” has garnered their attention.

You immediately creak your head up to Poe in apology, your face twisting - in equal parts discomfort and contrition. But, of course, he’s Poe, and so he looks at you kindly. He only ever looks at you kindly.

You feel that love for him stir again on the exhale, and you push it back down again as you remember to breathe in.

“You okay, kiddo?”

His umber eyes are entirely earnest beneath his thick brows, and you nod - rather unconvincingly.

“Mmmhmm.” Your response is weak and you’re not entirely sure he buys it, but you wave your hand anyway, insisting he carry on with what he was in the middle of.

And so, given the go ahead, Poe indeed continues talking. You try to tune him out, but that was always going to be impossible. You’re so attuned to his voice - after so much time spent together - that your whole body stands on end for it, like iron filings dragged by a magnet. He’s impossible for you to ignore. And, stars, under any other circumstance, why would you want to?

Still, in this present moment, you are where you are, so instead, you grit your teeth, trying at the very least to steady your breaths - genuinely worried you might have some kind of mini meltdown if you’re not able to get out of here soon. You even feel your lower lip begin to tremble, and note your hands balling into fists against your thighs - clenching and unclenching as you try to focus on anything else aside from the urge to flee to somewhere quiet, or, to let this accumulation find it’s venting point through the corner of your eyes.

You breathe in and out, the pads of your fingers soothing at your temples and trying to relieve some of the tension. Your eyes close, so that you at least shut out the colours and shapes and visuals and everything else added into the mix which might tip you over the edge.

You’re more than sure Poe would understand if you ever talked to him about this. That he’d insist you check out right now and promise to catch you up later. You just know that he would try to find some workaround in briefings, if you brought your needs to his attention. He’d do it for anyone… but he’d do anything for you, you’re sure. But… you never have tried to talk to him about it. It never seemed like the most important thing, always something bigger or more urgent that seemed to trump your discomfort. Right now though, you are cursing yourself for always pushing yourself to the bottom of the list.

Even so, you make it through, somehow. You let out a huge, audible exhale of relief as Poe concludes the briefing, and you let his comment about whether he was “boring you” glance right off, unanswered. Then, you stay put in your chair, even as your fellow Rebels slow to wait for you, turning your body only briefly to wave them on. You don’t wish to exit alongside them on this occasion. Right now, you’re not sure at all that you could handle being immersed within the centre of such an inescapably thick cloud of chit chat. Being the grounding quiet in the eye of a storm.

You take a second to slump in your chair and breathe a sigh of relief, relishing the relative hush of the room; even covering over your eyes with your hands and letting yourself revel in blackness, until the clutter of voices safely recedes from your range of hearing.

When you open your eyes again, you are a little shocked -it’s fair to say - to see that Poe has remained behind in the room. You blink a few times and look up at him in confusion, and in response he circles quietly, slowly around the table, a small, sympathetic smile curling his plush pink lips. You watch as he comes to perch on the table edge before you, one pert butt cheek hiked up on the surface and his hands falling loosely into his lap, turned palms up like cupped rowboats strewn across a sea of rumpled orange flight suit. You want to climb into them and be rocked to sleep.

“You really okay, kiddo?”

You brace, waiting for the sound of his question to scrape you, but you are relieved to find his tone hushed - the cracks in his voice all smoothed out.

You lie, voice thin. “Sure.” It comes out as more of a question.

Poe’s eyes narrow in scepticism. “Okay.” He probes gently. Only ever gentle with you. “So are you coming to the bar for a few?”

Shit. He would call your bluff, wouldn’t he?

There are plans, you see. Things had gone well today. Victories against the First Order. People want to “celebrate”. As much as you would love to share some quality time with your fellow Rebels -would jump at the chance on a good day- you cringe at the mere thought of how noisy it would be. For some, “celebration”, and “loud” are synonymous. For you, conversely, you often find yourself exalting the quiet. The spaces between words. The room; to breathe in. The expansive possibility of that in breath.

“No. I… I can’t.” You bounce your foot agitatedly and the feeling shakes through your whole body. You sorta think you want to cry.

“Sure? Honestly, y’ look like ya could do to let loose.” Your body drags to his voice like a magnet, even as you want to push the sound away.

“Astute assessment, Dameron. But, pulsating music so loud I can’t think isn’t really it for me right now.”

Poe tilts his head sympathetically. Scratches at his crown of errant curls. You’d see his bark-brown eyes flitting gently -fondly- over your face, if you were looking. He speaks softly, his voice a vat of honey and a niggle settled on his brow. “Okay. I’m not gonna push it. Just… you take care of yourself, okay?”

You blink before tears can ball. “Yeah,” you concede. “Yeah, I’m trying to.”

He reaches out his weathered, rowboat hand and cups it against your shoulder. “You be okay? Can I do anything?”

You look at him now. His voice is not the only thing that drags you to him. His eyes too. His whole damn being. You wish you could stay and be close to him tonight, but-

“-Nah.” You stand, bumping him playfully in the shoulder with a balled fist. “Just tired, fella. I want to come but…” You cup your hands over your ears and the quiet swirls around you like the breath caught inside a seashell. “Loud,” you explain, with brevity. “No thank you.” Maker, you’re starting to sound like D-O. (Well? Maybe that’s not wholly a bad thing - D.O. sure knows how to set boundaries.)

Poe nods, reluctantly. “Ok. Well. You’ll be missed.” His mouth rocks into a fond smile. His thumb draws back towards his chest. “By me.”

You absent-mindedly curl your fingers around the lip of his collar, smoothing all the rumples out. He holds his breath. Then, you can’t help but smile at him, even as your head continues to blare and throb. “Oh, Poe. I know that I will,” you purr smugly, before you swivel on your boot to leave.

Sometimes your feelings for him are far too loud, and you need to turn the volume down.

***

Some time later, you’re sat up in your bunk. Your legs are folded beneath you, and you’re settled in the centre of the mattress, your favourite misshapen plushie -a mascot gifted by Poe- stuffed into the space between your legs, its head carefully angled so you can both look out of the viewport, of course.

You’re one of the lucky ones, you realise - one of the few Rebels on base to benefit from not only a first floor room, but also a small, round transparisteel hole which looks out on to the base. Usually, it is covered by a blackout curtain, to maximise the chance of grabbing some shut eye between shifts. Tonight though, you have drawn it back, opting to lookout across the expanse of duracrete. It’s not as though you have much chance of sleeping, anyway. Not after the five shots of caf in as many hours.

It’s quiet in your room - finally. Quiet enough that you actually find it soothing to watch the activity of the new shift, the routines and duties falling into place seamlessly like a well-oiled machine; oddly rhythmic. You even find it peaceful to watch the ships lifting off, taking flight gracefully (though not quite as gracefully as the flight of one pilot in particular).

You are mesmerised for a while, as you watch the droids and Rebels and vehicles shuttling from one station to another, busying themselves as the last dregs of light weep over the horizon. You slip on your headphones, playing some gentle white noise, and you lean your head up against the pane, disappearing your hands into the sleeves of your soft woollen cardigan.

Then, you brighten as you spot Poe down there, an involuntary smile claiming your features as he emerges from out of the munitions building. You even clutch your mascot a little tighter, in lieu of him.

He has his data pad in hand, and he’s brightly greeting the night shift as everyone slots into position.

You watch him do the rounds, his attention to detail meticulous even as Snap beckons him over to the bar to join the rest of the squadron. You can just about see his mouth move, but of course, you can’t hear the words spoken in reply. You can imagine them though -something promising revelry- and the smile slants from your mouth as you wish you could join them. You even think about it, but you know it would be too much today. And so, you console yourself with watching Poe flit around the base, ticking off his duties one by one on his pad.

He stands down on the duracrete as he completes the last of his checks, his muscle memory taking over - no doubt - as he completes the all too familiar run.

He’s done it so many times that it’s seamless by now. You watch him fondly as he assigns duties, checks positions and rosters, passes out equipment, checks protocols, and inventories munitions. And, as he concludes his round, he executes his last stop with a flourish. He pauses to look up squarely at your window - as though that is part of his nightly routine too. His final stop, no less, before he makes his way back to his own quarters.

Except, this time, of course… you’re peering right back at him.

Surprise hooks his face, tugging it up into a lopsided grin. You can’t see the flash of happiness in any detail from up here, but you can imagine it. Can picture those creases as the smile reaches his long-lashed eyes, and the slant of his pearly, gappy teeth. You smile bashfully in return as he swipes a “hello” up at you with an arc of his hand, and shyly return his wave.

Then, Poe holds his finger in the air as though he has a bright idea - hang on - and you see him typing on his datapad. Your eyes flit over to your own device, just in time to catch the gentle illumination of the screen as his message is transmitted through to you. 

“What ya doing still up? Thought y’were too tired to come out?”

You scoff lightly before firing a message back. Sleep would be amazing, if it could come. “Can’t sleep yet. Too buzzed. Drank too much caf, I guess.”

You glance back out of the window, and see Poe still stood down there. He is looking all too earnestly up at you, his shapely jaw tipped up and feet spread in a wide stance. It makes you feel giddy, and the churn of butterflies in your stomach makes you feel a little exposed, you suppose. So, hurriedly, perhaps with too much haste, you offer him a “good night” wave, tugging your curtain closed with a flourish and throwing your body back on to the mattress.

You let out a big breath and all of the silt inside you stirs, your buried love for him floating to the surface. It makes your skin hum. A quiet, resonant note, too deep to hear. A sort of peace.

As soon as he is gone though, you miss him.

You even miss his noise.

***

You lie back in your bunk for a while, unwinding, decompressing, and letting your mind slowly filter through all the thoughts from today. You still don’t feel ready to sleep, but a little of the tension has slipped away.

Still, your thoughts can’t help but wander back to Poe. You keep imagining him in the bar, full of jubilation. You think about the creases radiating from the corner of his eyes like sunbeams. The warmth of his hand through your flightsuit, reaching for your arm or thigh or smoothing up against your back. You feel like you’re missing out on seeing him happy. On sharing this win with him and your teammates. You wish there was a way that you could be a part of it, but there’s no way you feel up to it just now.

So, instead, you continue to bask in the hush of the room, reading and tidying and freshening up.

You are startled when you hear an unexpected, soft rap on your door. Your chunky headphones now slipped down around your neck, you thankfully hear the subtle yet insistent request for your attention and you tread towards it. 

A frown notches in your brow and you crane forwards to peer through the spy hole. A distorted, grinning idiot appears to you, in swirled shades of orange, brown, and black.

There’s only one grinning idiot that could be.

“Poe?!”

You swing the door open, and you don’t even have to ask what he’s doing here. Poe volunteers the information freely, instantly, his tone soft and just a little mysterious. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Your frown deepens, and you respond a little tiredly. You’re of letting him down, if you’re not feeling up to taking part in whatever harebrained scheme he’s about to propose to you. “What is it, Poe?” You raise your eyebrows, knitting them in the middle, tilting them up like a question. “Is this like the time you and Snap raced those wheely chairs down the runway? Because I told you that I-”

Poe shakes his head, his eyes gently gleaming. “-Nothing like that. Something you’ll like, I promise.”

He extends his hands towards you, cupped expectantly, in a way that beckons you to pour all of your love into it. He beams hopefully at you, his eyes big and round and sparking gently. “Can ya just trust me?”

You take a deep breath, and - so help you - you slip your hand immediately into his.

You can. After all, there’s no-one else you trust more. Your hand clamps hold of him, his warmth blooming across your palm. With the other hand, you move to uncoil your headphones from around your head, ready to discard them.

“Keep ‘em with you,” he suggests, upon seeing the slight indecision in your face. “It’s okay.”

You nod at him, and his eyes tighten in something like admiration. He’s always made you feel comfortable. Comfortable enough to be yourself. He looks down at your hand in his then. “This alright?”

You gulp, nervousness fluttering in your stomach. “Yeah.” Yeah, it is, actually. You don’t want him to let go. 

Guiding you by the hand, Poe leads you outside, down through the winding  corridors and towards the door leading out on to the duracrete. You walk out to the main thoroughfare, and your hand becomes clammy in Poe’s, your whole body stiffening unconsciously as you brace for the onslaught of sound all over again. But, he doesn’t let go, and with him leading you, nor do you want to stop.

You look towards him in apprehension as your path twists to take you via the hangar, and Poe simply provides you a reassuring nod, clasping your hand all the tighter. “Trust me,” he promises as he feels your pace dragging, and it bolsters you. You do. You do. You do.

You approach the noise and the clamour and you screw your eyes shut, as if that could help. The night shift is working hard on patching X-wings before the morning’s recon flight, the hammered notes of metal on metal resounding through the space. You are about to reach in haste for your headphones; however, you find that, in fact, you don’t even need to. You see one of the Captain’s clock Poe and they share a firm nod with one another. Then, one by one a message is seemingly conveyed seamlessly through the hangar.

You watch with a slack-jaw as every one of the mechanics and droids and officers downs tools as they see you and your Commander approach. You toss your head towards him, expecting to see confusion there too, but all you see from Poe is a knowing, humble smile. All you feel is your hand in his, guiding you onward.

“Poe?” you ask, voice shaking, but he gently encourages you further, until you observe each area on base you walk through responding in much the same way - quietening upon your approach - and entirely confirming your suspicion. That Poe is the one who orchestrated this. For you.

You are so full with emotion at the thought he would do this for you, that it does not even occur to you to think about where he is leading you. That is, not until he brings you to a halt outside the door to the makeshift Rebel bar. He turns his body towards yours and you mirror him, tears shimmying in you eyes and making his appear as a distorted, grinning idiot all over again.

Then, he cups his hand on to your shoulder and swings opens the door, his voice an invitation. A magnet. “After you.”

You take a deep breath, still pretty much lost for words. Apprehensive, at the thought of entering the crowded space. However, you will try for him, you think. You will try for him, because he deserves the world, and you would do anything for him. Look at what he just did for you.

So, instead of any protest out of your mouth, it simply opens and closes wordlessly. You enter the dingy little room, once again bracing yourself for commotion, but floored all over again as you realise… it’s quiet in here too.

Poe reaches to squeeze your hand in his once more, and your eyes are so full with happy tears now that you can barely make him out at all. At least, not beyond the outlined orange of his flight suit and that unmistakeable, raven crown of curls, which never seems to suffer from a helmet.

You blink your tears to the corner of your eyes as you take it all in, in complete shock. The music inside is turned right down, to nothing more than a pleasant background lull - not the usual din, which, at times when you’re overloaded throbs unpleasantly in your skull. As well, the usual throng of patrons have evidently been cleared out. Inside, only one table is occupied: your squadron, sitting there and waving at you with open, inviting smiles.

You grin back at them in utter delight, glancing back and forth between them and Poe, your heart overflowing with gratitude.

“Hey,” he intones softly as an aside to you, as you begin to make your way towards the table together. “You deserved this, okay? You shouldn’t have to miss out on celebrating with us. Not for anything.” You swallow. Your throat feels scratchy and swollen with emotion and you can barely take it. “Anytime you want to step out is all good, alright? If this still is too much or you need a break that’s okay.” He squeezes your hand one more time, before releasing you to take your rightful seat amongst your team. “Whatever you need. We all love you.” He looks down at his scuffed shoes. “Want you with us.”

Still gobsmacked, you take a seat at the table. Jess dips out to get you a drink from the droid behind the counter, and the others envelop you in gentle, amiable chatter. It’s not obtrusive or grating at all, with everyone clearly being mindful of the noise. You find everyone is better able to speak with more hushed tones, given that the music is playing far lower than usual. No-one need strain to be heard above it, and you find it is manageable. Like this, their voices - brimming with joy and peppered with laughter - feel like a cosy, warm blanket wrapped right around you. Knowing that you can step away at any time without anyone judging you? It feels wonderful.

After a few moments of allowing you to bask in the jubilation of your squad - their joy at having you join them - Poe quietly takes his natural place next to you. He shuffles up beside you and he subtly rests his palm on your thigh, letting you know he’s right by your side.

You turn your head towards him, and for once, in this moment, there is no need to say anything at all. Instead, you simply plant your hand right on top of his, twining your fingers, and you watch him attempt to swallow down the goofiest, most bashful smile as you do so.

And so, it continues like this, everyone sharing their battle stories and jokes and gossip. Ripping the shit out Poe - as per usual - but in a way that is entirely fond.

You’re still tired -exhausted even- and so you can’t contribute all that much. You simply enjoy listening. Even so, it feels good to be present. To be a part of things, instead of on the outside.

Best of all, Poe is there too at every turn, to make you feel entirely included. His warm hand remains where it was planted, the heat of him suffusing through the fabric of your trouser leg. He turns towards you, to share every joke and laugh with you. Bigs up your flight skills every chance he gets. And even more than that, there are the other moments too. The moments where he simply turns to look at you, his eyes creasing with fondness. Gleaming with a forceful admiration.

Suddenly, his feelings for you seem so incredibly loud that they are deafening.

You had never dared to dream that Poe might have feelings for you, but suddenly you can hear it so clearly.

You feel entirely overwhelmed, but not at all in the same manner as earlier.

“Poe? Do you mind if we step outside for a second?” Your voice cracks open, and Poe’s thick brows immediately knit together in gentle concern for you.

“Sure,” he nods. “Okay.”

You head outside towards the rear door to the bar and the others excuse you seamlessly, Jess throwing you a covert and all too knowing look at you duck out, as if she is somehow aware of what might befall Poe through those doors. As if, in this quiet, you are screaming it out loud.

“Is it too noisy?” Poe asks as you exit into the cooling night air, rounding your body to face him as the door shushes closed. He throws up a thumb over his shoulder, back in the direction of the bar. “I can tell Snap to stop yabbering if-“

“-No.” You reassure him quickly. It’s not the noise. Not the noise at all. That’s not what you’re overwhelmed by. “It’s perfect. It’s… I wanted to say thank you, Poe.” He blinks a few times in quick succession, lending an all too rare cloak of shyness to his handsome features. “I mean. How did you know, Poe? Exactly what I needed?” Your voice creaks under the weight of him. The burden of your undisclosed love for him. You feel you are ready to buckle. Your knees feel that way too.

He scratches at his crown of curls, a gentle scoff escaping his plush mouth. “Believe it or not, kiddo, I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing when someone wants me to shut up.”

Your mouth tipping up in gentle amusement, you opt to shuffle a little closer to him, until you’re almost toe-to-toe.

He doesn’t back away.

You deliver him a watery smile, overcome by him - though you still don’t relent on the teasing. “Hmm. That figures. It must happen a lot.”

Poe laughs at your dig; and that? That, is the most beautiful sound in the world, you think.

Then, your commander finally falls silent - an all too rare phenomenon. But even so, the way he’s looking at you? It’s ever so loud.

You feel the thrum of butterflies in your middle, and now, it’s you who can’t seem to stop talking. “You know. You should learn to leave some space between words more often, Poe. Some quiet.”

“Oh yeah?“

You swallow, a tremble in your voice, but you shuffle even closer to him and his eyes track your lips as you move, his tongue dragging along his lower lip. “Yeah. ‘Cause then I could show you what happens when we stop talking.”

He shifts his warm, broad hands to your waist. Slots his sturdy thigh in between yours to draw your body closer. More flush to him.

For a moment, you entirely forget how to breathe, and, without the usual pulse of music from the bar, it is hushed enough that you hear the hard swallow which bobs down his throat.

There’s an awful lot of beauty in the pauses, you think. The lull between beats. The spaces between words. The moment of held breath before an exhale, where love might have the opportunity to rise to the surface. In the little gaps between his teeth. The gaps between his spread fingers. The distance between you, waiting to be closed.

Your heart thuds in the cage of your chest, and when you speak next, your words are barely audible. “Can I kiss you, Poe?”

Poe’s gaze dances over your face, enthralled and misted over, and then, with a smug, soft, fond curl of his pretty mouth, he raises a thick finger, pressing it against your lips. “Ssshhhh,” he urges, his voice barely above a whisper. “You really need to stop talking.”

Then, sweeping his hands up to gently cradle your face, Poe kisses you.

His tongue licks like a gentle flame into your mouth, warmth spreading through you. You breathe him in, and let your love for him rise; releasing it on the exhale. Sending it out into the open, no longer buried.

Somethings are too loud to remain unspoken, you realise. And, some things that need saying don’t require any words at all.

You draw back and your eyes lock with his, saying everything there is to know; loud and blaring, without a single decibel.

Poe catches his breath, and then; he kisses you again.

For the first time all day -and the first time for a long time - you feel wholly and entirely at peace.

[mystic-writings]

nice to meet you

PAIRING — poe dameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY — despite being placed on parental leave by leia, poe has to leave for a last minute mission. you go into labour.

WARNINGS — pregnancy, fluff, real-word cursing, (likely incorrect) depictions of birth, author has not had kids before, depictions of panic, author writes some cliche stuff at the end but its fluffy so it doesn’t matter

WORD COUNT — 3,227

NOTES — this was supposed to be written a lot sooner than two months after the first part was posted. oopsies? anyway, this can be read as a standalone, but you can read part one here!

masterlist | taglist

“What do you mean, ‘emergency rescue mission?’” Poe glared. “I’m on leave! I’ve got a kid on the way!” 

“I’m sorry, Commander, but you’re the only available pilot with the skillset to pull this off this kind of mission,” Admiral Horne sighed, her face showing nothing but apology as she handed the datapad to him. “All of our other qualified pilots are off base.” 

Of course, Poe thought. Of course, he was being shipped off to Mustafar for a rescue mission while you were just about ready to give birth.

After looking over the information, he placed the datapad on a nearby console and huffed, one hand on his hips, the other scrubbing at his face. “Where’s Leia? I need to talk to her.”

“She went to Coruscant this morning with Vice Admiral Holdo,” Horne informed him, driving his stress levels even higher. “She won’t be back for another few days, I’m afraid.”

Great. 

“Fine. I’ll do it. But the second things get too dangerous, I’m coming back. You hear me?”

Admiral Horne only nodded before dismissing him for immediate dispatch. Poe, ever the rebel, stopped off at the hangar after he suited up, finding you watching Jess as she tweaked something in the underbelly of her X-Wing. 

The second he caught sight of you, sitting patiently with a hand cupping the swell of your stomach, laughing gently at something Jess said, everything in him begged not to leave your side. To strip the flight suit from his body and stay right here, by your side. But then you glanced over at him, and your eyes roamed over his body, and he knew from the look in your eye that if he wasn’t going to be facing your wrath, someone else was. And he much preferred that it be someone else. 

“What’s going on?” The worry swimming in your eyes as you stood to meet him broke Poe’s heart. He reached up, brushing some hair from your shoulder before his hand slid up to cup your jaw. 

“I have a mission,” he said, heart shattering as the worry completely consumed your features. 

“But you’re on leave,” you reached up, placing your hand over his. “You’re not supposed to leave the base.” 

“Admiral Horne—” 

“Does she know you’re not supposed to leave? Does she know we’re having a kid?”

“She does, but—” Poe sighed, his hand leaving your cheek, turning over to grasp yours and pull you a bit closer. “I’m the only one on base that’s qualified to do this. She said it’ll only be a few days. It’s a low-risk rescue mission, I promise I will be just fine.” 

You nodded, fighting back the tears that seemed to sneak up on you at any given occasion recently, squeezing Poe’s hand tight. “Be careful, Poe. If something happens, so help me I’ll—” 

“I know, you’ll kill me yourself.” Poe chuckled, lifting your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles before taking your other hand and doing the same, pressing a kiss to the ring that now rested on your finger — the same ring you used to toy with when it rested on a chain around Poe’s neck. When he lifted his gaze, meeting your eyes, his voice was quiet. “I promise. I will make it back to you. Both of you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to Poe’s. 

He leaned forward, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips, whispering,  “I love you, too,” before dipping lower, pressing the most featherlight of kisses to the top of your stomach. “Stay right there for me, got it kiddo? I love you.” 

Poe relished in the giggle his comment pulled from you, smiling bright and kissing you once more before slipping from your grip and out of the hangar, praying to the Maker that he got back before he missed the birth of his firstborn. He’d wring Admiral Horne’s neck if he did. 

Three days. 

Poe’s been gone on some stupid rescue mission for the past three days. You’d been utterly useless, facing sleepless nights and anxiety for most of the time he’d been gone. Between it all, though, you’d been dealing with false labour pains, the same you’d been experiencing before he left, but it only heightened your panic all the more now that Poe was off-planet. 

Rose and Jess had been rotating staying with you, the pair being the only other relief you could find between Poe’s holo-calls every few hours. Every moment in between, though,when you were alone, you twisted the ring on your finger, teeth gnawing your lip with worry. It was the worst you’d ever felt, and the false contractions were doing nothing to ease your fears. 

It was the middle of the afternoon as you stood with Jess, arranging and rearranging the items Leia managed to import for your baby on the dresser top that was now home to a change station. Ever since your fourth month, Leia had moved you into a larger room, a mini-apartment with its own refresher and two rooms bordering on the smaller side — but it was more private space than you’d ever had on the base, and you would never stop being grateful for it. 

“You know, you’ve put that stack of diapers back in that very spot three times now.” Jess commented from the loveseat. “You need to stop worrying,”

“I’ll stop worrying when Poe gets back.” You told her, wincing as another false contraction rippled across your back. “Besides, Leia said this sort of stuff is normal. She called it ‘nesting.’” 

Jess chuckled, leather creaking as she stood from the couch and came to stand beside the dresser, fiddling with a stuffed runyip plush before setting it down. You watched her admire the small set up you had for the baby, multi-coloured blankets and stuffed toys packed neatly into bins, a single crib resting under the window with jungle themed sheets on the mattress. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be a mom. I can’t believe Poe’s gonna be a dad,” 

“You and me both,” you laughed, a hand resting on your bump as another small, less painful contraction tightened the muscles in your abdomen. “Seems like ages ago when we first met.” 

Before you had the time to reminisce further, the door slid open with a woosh, revealing a very breathless, brightly smiling Rose Tico. “He’s back. Poe’s X-Wing landed, like, ten minutes ago.” 

You huffed, relief flooding your veins and soothing the false contraction. You rested a hand on the change table and leaned against it, thumb rubbing at the ring on the same hand as Jess met your eye, smile widening to match your own. “Thank the Maker. And he’s alright?”

“Not a scratch. He’s debriefing with Horne and Leia now.” Rose reported back, stepping into the room. “How’ve things been today?”

Before you even had the chance to open your mouth, your stomach tightened and you gripped the change table, nearly doubling over. This pain was worse than the ones you’d felt before, and as you felt a rush of water down your legs, you knew that this was no false labour. 

Your panicked eyes flitted between Rose and Jess, eyeing the puddle on the floor as the pain worsened before subsiding. You heaved a breath through your mouth, desperately trying to calm yourself. It did little to help, a whimper escaping you as you straightened your back. “Oh, fuck.”

Poe wanted nothing more than for this — quite honestly, completely useless — debrief to be over. It was just him, Leia, and Horne in the room, discussing the details of the mission. “Look, it took me a day to find them, and another to tail him and get him to lead me to our guy. The place wasn’t heavily guarded, so I took them out in no time. No one followed me, and I got him back here without any issues. Now can I please go see my wife?” 

Of course, you and Poe weren’t married yet, but the moment he put that ring on your finger after finding out you were pregnant, you might as well have been. 

“Of course, Commander, you may—” Leia’s datapad beeping cut her sentence short. Poe nearly groaned as she held up a finger to check the urgent message, a grin splitting her lips as her eyes trailed across the screen. “Apologies, Poe. You may go, but I suggest you head to the medbay. It seems your child has perfect timing.”

The wide, bright smile that spread across Poe lips, lighting up his features, sent warmth straight to Leia’s heart. She was glad to see him so happy, and entirely unbothered as he shot from his seat, barely waiting for the meeting room door to open before he slid through the gap, footsteps echoing through the hall as he ran for his life. 

By the time Poe reached the medbay, you were already in a private room, sweating and gritting your teeth with Jess and Rose on either side of you. One of the few non-droid nurses conversed with a med-droid as you lay in the bed, dressed in a medical gown with a blanket draped over your lower half. 

The door slid open, revealing the sight to Poe, who sighed and was by your side immediately. “Hey, baby, how’re you doing? You okay?”

“Well, my body’s currently trying to tear itself apart to get this baby out of me, so I’d say I’m doing just fine, Dameron,” you gritted the words out, squirming in the bed as Rose and Jess slipped from the room with quiet praises and hands on shoulders, wishing you both good luck. 

Poe’s hand instantly slipped into yours, squeezing once as he rested the other above your head, leaning down to press a kiss to your sweat-slick skin. He felt you squeeze back, your grip tightening as you gritted your teeth, another contraction passing over you. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay,” he whispered, leaning his forehead on your temple. 

Just as the wave of pain began to pass, the nurse, Jane, approached with a gentle smile. “You’re almost there, love. Is it okay if I check your cervix?”

“Mhmm,” you whimpered with a nod, blowing out a shaking breath as Poe lifted his head. 

“How long have you been in labour?” Poe asked, squeezing your hand. 

You huffed, tossing your head back onto the pillows. “No clue.” 

“What do you mean, ‘no clue’?” Poe furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the nurse and back at you. “Wouldn’t you have felt the contractions?”

“Not between the constant false ones,” you grimaced. “And before you ask, my water broke when Rose came to tell me you were finally home. So I’m kind of blaming all of this on you.” 

Poe laughed, trying to ignore the tears blurring his vision. “Blame it all on me, baby. I don’t mind.” 

Jane stood, peeling the glove from her hand as she smiled again. “Almost there, mom. If you feel at all like you have to push, let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice breathy and tired as you squeezed Poe’s hand again. “Will do. Is it okay if my signal is screaming bloody murder? Because I might have to do that if this gets any worse.” 

The nurse laughed, heading back to the med-droid, who Poe noticed was now preparing some sort of incubator for the baby. He wondered exactly what was going to happen. He’d heard often that this would be a defining moment in his life; a moment that would change who he was to the very core. Poe had heard plenty about the day he was born from his father growing up, but he hadn’t believed what he was hearing until now, standing in the room with you, watching the med-droid and nurse work simultaneously to get everything ready for the arrival of your child and to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be. 

As another contraction passed over you, you whimpered, tears building in your eyes as you breathed your way through the pain. “Poe,” you whispered, your voice tinged with pain, sending a deep ache straight to Poe’s chest. “Poe, I don’t— I’m scared,” you admitted, glancing up to meet his eyes, watching the worry pool in them to meet the fear shining in yours. “I’m so scared,” 

“Hey,” Poe called, his voice gentle but firm as he stroked the hair away from your forehead. “We’ll be just fine, okay? All three of us are gonna be fine. Maybe it isn’t how we planned, but we’re safe. And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Our baby isn’t going anywhere. And neither are you. I promise.” 

You nodded, another whimper passing through your lips as you brought your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and scrunching your face as another, longer contraction wracked your body. You grunted and groaned, one hand gripping the sheets and the other crushing Poe’s hand. But he kept smoothing your hair, whispering to you, his voice soothing you through the sound of blood rushing through your ears. 

“I think— oh, fuck— I think I need to push,” you huffed, voice strained as the pressure built in your abdomen, stretching and pulling at every muscle in your body. “Jane, I—” your voice crackled, fizzling out with a powerful groan as Jane rushed you, a stool under her and gloves on in an instant. 

“You’re doing great, mom. When you feel another contraction, I want you to give it all you’ve got, okay? Put everything behind it and just push.” Jane advised, peeking her head over the sheet that the med-droid had put in place of the blanket. 

“Is— Is there anything I can do?” Poe asked, his voice breaking as he adjusted his hold on your hand, the other still resting on the back of your head. He looked like a mess, hair mussed from running and eyes wide, shimmering and worried. 

“Be there for her.” Jane answered. “However she needs you to be.” 

Poe only nodded, adjusting his stance to bring his lips to your forehead again as you grit your teeth. Your grip on his hand tightened again, the force of the contraction and the effort you were exerting pushing your chin into your chest. Poe slid his hand to rest between your shoulder blades, supporting as much of your weight as you would let him. 

The pain had been bad before, but the added pressure of actually pushing made the ache in your limbs unbearable. Your muscles were sore from the constant tension, your fingers numb from the pressure you’d squeezed Poe’s hand with. When the pain subsided, and your head fell back, tears mingled with the sweat covering you. You took gulping breaths, huffing in and out to try to bring some relief to your body. Nothing was registering in your mind anymore; you could hear voices speaking to you, giving you words of encouragement, but the pain was blinding. Every inch of you felt broken and aching, and you knew that even after it was over, you would still feel it. 

Then the cycle repeated itself — once more, then another, and then… everything stopped. Relief flooded your body, numbing everything in you as muted cries flooded the room, growing sharper as you came back into yourself. Your vision cleared, catching Poe’s trembling hand as the nurse handed him a pair of medical scissors. Finally, you were able to breathe. Your head fell back onto the bed, the pillow beneath you providing comfort as you watched Jane bring the baby over to the incubator. 

Poe had never felt so much love until he heard his child cry. The wails of fresh life, untouched and full of possibility, filled his heart impossibly full, leaving it with no choice but to hurt with every beat, to ache with every breath his daughter took. He cut the cord with blurred vision, tears already beginning to fall as Jane smiled, carrying the baby over to the med-droid to clean her up. As she did, the baby still wailing loudly, Poe returned to your side, cupping your cheek and bringing your gaze to meet his. 

“Hey,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. His heart warmed at the tired smile that spread across your face, eyes opening to meet him. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” you muttered. “Is the baby—?”

“Fine. She’s perfect.” He smiled, watching your face light up. 

“It’s a girl?” You whispered, voice laced through with emotions even Poe could feel. “We have a daughter?” 

Poe nodded, sniffling as fresh tears began to fall. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find Jane standing at your side, holding a loosely wrapped baby Dameron. 

“I think someone wants to meet you,” she spoke gently, smiling down at you. 

Wordlessly, you took the baby from Jane, who adjusted your bed so you could sit up straighter without injuring yourself. The moment your daughter was cradled in your arms, then against the skin of your chest, you knew nothing else mattered as much as this did. As she did. 

“Poe, look at her,” you breathed, choking on your own voice as the baby gurgled, deep brown eyes latching onto nothing in particular with her cheek squished into your chest. “She’s beautiful.”

Poe nodded, his eyes stuck on his daughter as she squirmed, face flushed and brows furrowed. When they flickered up to you, Poe found you staring down at your daughter, a finger stroking her back gently as she lay against you, moving slightly with every breath you took. “Are you still scared?” Poe whispered.

“I’m absolutely terrified,” you whispered back. “But we’re doing this together, and I know you’re scared, too. And that makes me feel a bit better.” 

Poe huffed a quiet laugh, his hand settling on the back of his daughter’s head as he kept his gaze on you. “Of course I’m scared. I’m scared shitless. But if I’m sure of one thing, it’s that she’s worth it.” 

You sniffled, nodding and lifting your head, capturing Poe’s lips in a quick, loving kiss. When you pulled back, both of your gazes fell to your daughter, who now seemed to be fast asleep, mouth slightly open and a fist curled against your medical gown. 

“I think I have a name for her,” you said as Poe sat on the edge of the bed. 

“You do?”

“Yeah. I know we were thinking about using Alex, because it would work either way, but…” you glanced down at your hand, resting gently across your baby girl’s back. “I think we should name her after your mom.”

If it was even possible, Poe’s eyes filled with more warmth, tears glistening within them once more as he moved his gaze from the baby to you. “Are you sure?”

You smiled gently, your right hand grasping for Poe’s where it rested on the bed. “Of course I am. Your mother was an amazing woman, Poe. I want to honour that.” 

Poe’s smile matched yours as he nodded, adjusting himself to press a featherlight kiss to the baby’s forehead and rest his hand over yours on her back. “Okay.” The baby cooed, adjusting herself under her parent’s combined touch, settling back into sleep as Poe spoke. “It’s nice to meet you, Shara.”

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

poe dameron taglist: @aria725 @eyelessfaces @klillaah (open!)

[moonlight-prose]

11 with Poe? 🥺 💞

𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

a/n: this prompt with poe is so soft and warm it's actually melting my heart. i'm a massive sucker for someone taking care of the person they love in such a simple way like this. it's short and more of a drabble, but i really enjoyed bringing some softness to this man. i always seem to put him in angsty situations, so he deserves this.

summary: "he was with you. the person he longed to be around. who’s smile made him smile, and who’s laugh made him laugh. rather than looking for a quick escape, he found himself hoping that the mission would take even longer."

word count: 1k+

pairing: poe dameron x reader

warnings: not explicit, soft poe, flirting, fluffiness, poe dameron being hopelessly head over heels.

Squinting against the bright light of the sun, you traversed your way through the field, trying to catch up to the group ahead. It was a simple mission. Head out to a planet, find whoever was willing to trade shitty x-wing parts for something far better, and get back before dinner. Really it was more a quick vacation than anything else—a chance to get away from the chaos that your lives had become.

Poe shifted, checking to see exactly where you both had ended up in the hour you’d been walking. It’s not that you were lost. You were simply exploring. Or at least…that’s how Poe put it. You however had been keeping track of the different paths you’d taken, making sure to mark on your map where exactly you had to backtrack to get where you needed.

He sighed for the tenth time, scrubbing a hand down his face, his brows pulling together with frustration. It was clear that getting back to base before dinner wasn’t a possibility. Which meant you would have to find a place here amidst the greenery and gorgeous landscape.

You didn’t mind the idea much. However you couldn’t necessarily say the same for Poe.

“So where exactly are we?” you asked, trying to comprehend the bits and pieces of the foreign language. Growing up in the galaxy meant you knew more than your fair share, but sometimes it was hard to learn it all.

“Who the fuck knows,” he muttered, turning to look at yet another green hill. It looked identical to the last five you passed.

“It’s getting late.”

He nodded. “Think we can make it back to the ship tonight?”

There was a possibility of that happening if you turned back now, but you could see the sun begin its descent into the horizon, the day coming quickly to a close. The planet was known for housing less than lethal life forms, which made the idea of camping outside that much more appealing. You slept in a tiny bunk back at the base. Barely enough room to stretch out your legs before you hit the wall beside you—the open space around you felt like a damn gift compared to that.

“We should find a closed off area,” you suggested, remembering the many times you were forced to sleep outside whilst on a mission.

“Lead the way.”

He traipsed along behind you, eyes stuck to your surroundings in case of danger, and you didn’t do anything to interfere. You understood he wouldn’t feel safe sleeping on an unknown planet unless he was sure nothing bad was to happen. If he was alone he wouldn’t take precautions. But that was the difference. You stood beside him, untarnished by the tragedy of war. Beautiful like the summer flowers his mother used to pick on Yavin 4.

“The map says it shouldn’t be that much father,” you said in the hopes that it would offer some reprieve from how disappointing this whole mission was.

“That’s fine,” he mumbled, catching a glimpse of how the sunset enshrouded your face, creating a glow across you that nearly punched the breath from his lungs.

If he were with anyone else on this mission he would have been irritated. Beyond that probably. He could have seen himself trying to contact Leia from where you were, asking for a transport back, but he wasn’t with anyone else. He was with you. The person he longed to be around. Who’s smile made him smile, and who’s laugh made him laugh. Rather than looking for a quick escape, he found himself hoping that the mission would take even longer.

“I’m sorry about all this.” Poe felt his heart begin to sink, matching the movement of the sun. “I know it’s taking too much time. I swear I thought I read the map right.”

His pace faltered until he found himself stopping altogether, hand reaching for your arm to turn you. “Why are you apologizing?”

You sighed. “I just…I know how irritating all of this can be.”

“Sunshine—”

“And I know you have other important things to do for the Resistance.” You turned, running a hand across your forehead. “I could have asked Finn to come with me instead. Or anyone else. But I…I like…”

Poe stepped forward so quickly his boot nearly got caught on a small hole in the ground. “You like?”

Another long breath left you, eyes shifting up to finally catch him in your gaze. “I like your company.”

He felt the start of a smirk and tried to tamp it down, but there was no use. “My company huh?”

“Don’t get cocky flyboy. You’re not the worst person to be around.”

He was way past cocky at that point. Your words filled him with a warmth that sent his heart racing so hard it nearly stopped altogether. But you looked nervous. As if the words had been bottled up for so long you felt wary about heaven bringing them out into the open. You were unprepared for his smile, for his hand to reach out and pick a piece of grass out of your hair, only to use that to drag you even closer.

“I know I’m not,” he said softly, grunting when you lightly punched him in the chest. “Just been waiting for you to say it out loud.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass—” Tugging yourself away, you were ready to throw another meaningless curse at him, but Poe had solidified his plans long before you began to admit your feelings.

His lips caught yours in a kiss, effectively silencing you and stopping your movements. You felt a rush of dizziness go up to your head, a soft sound of contentment falling from your mouth into his. And Poe felt his entire being light up. Pulling you closer, he clutched at you tightly, hands sliding to your back and breath washing across your face.

“I’m glad I’m here with you,” he breathed against your cheek, nose nudging against yours—waiting eagerly for you to smile and pulling him back into a searing kiss he longed to drown in.

[psychosith]

Just Admiring

Din Djarin x reader, Poe Dameron x reader (seperate)

summary: you’re touching up your appearance in their visor and they sit back to admire you

warnings: fluff? idk

a/n: this is based off a request by @raechu11, though i altered it a bit to include my boy poe cuz i feel like he doesn’t get enough love😔 another rushed piece but y’all already know writers block is hitting me like a cement brick rn sooo

Din Djarin

You’re on a supplies run on Coruscant, sleep deprived and sore after a thrilling mission in the outer rim. Din had gone to a weapons shop a few blocks away, and you were getting some medical supplies for your kit on the ship. After picking up some bandages and bacta, you headed to the rendezvous point, a nearby cantina.

The atmosphere in the cantina was loud and distracting, but you managed to snag a quiet booth in the corner where Din found you a few minutes later. He slid into the seat next to you and you two ordered something to eat. Well, you ordered something to eat. Din insisted he wasn’t hungry yet still offered to pay for your meal.

The food was nothing spectacular, as to be expected in a dingy cantina like this, and it was messy. Sauce spilled out onto your plate and eventually, your face. You searched around for a napkin and found one to wipe your mouth with. “Alright,” you say, turning back to Din. “Ready to head out.”

Din hesitates a little, before gesturing to where his mouth would be. “You have a little…” he says.

“Oh,” you say. Your face flushes red as you turn away in embarrassment before an idea pops into your head. You turn to face Din and glimpse yourself in the oddly reflective visor of his helmet.

You swipe at the bit of sauce on your lip and reach into your pockets and grab a tin of lip salve. Facing back towards Din, you apply the salve and take another few seconds to fix your hair, generally touching up your appearance. Din doesn’t move once throughout this entire endeavor, it seems he’s transfixed. You can hear a soft laugh from Din’s helmet, and his shoulders shake slightly to accompany the sound.

“Something funny?” you ask. His head tilts slightly as he relaxes and lets himself live in the moment.

“Not at all. Just… admiring.”

Poe Dameron

(omg the way hes looking at the person in this gif someone sedate me)

The last strike against the Empire had been entirely unsuccessful. You had lost valuable men and resources that day, and it was time to do damage control. General Organa was coming down to your base to help, and there was roughly five minutes until you would be meeting with her. Unfortunately, you had also just gotten back from a small dogfight with a couple of imperial TIE fighters on one of this planet’s many moons. You and Poe had managed to take them all down, but now you were sweaty and flushed from the exertion. You were sure you had a bad case of helmet hair and you had no time to change from your suit.

Poe offered to walk you to the meeting, still in his flight suit and helmet still on. When you’re finally at the door to the meeting room he offers some words of encouragement. “Don’t be nervous,” he says with that trademark smirk, “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Wow, thanks,” you respond, sarcasm heavy in your tone. “How do I look?”

Without thinking, you start looking into his helmet visor and smoothing out your flyaway hairs. You comb through your hair with your fingers and start to impulsively flatten your tousled flight suit.

When your eyes unfocus from your own reflection, you meet Poe’s warm brown ones. His eyes dance across your features as he looks you up and down, and all of a sudden you become sheepish at the thought of him watching you. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. His hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was just admiring.”

“Oh,” you say.

“You look beautiful.”

[dameronshandholder]

I completely understand the Poe feels 🥺🥺🥺 I’ve been thinking about him recently so this fic has just made my entire day! My favorite part is the ending like idk why the “morning” made my heart flutter 🥹🥹🥹🥹 you made my urge to wake up next to Poe even stronger and I thank you for that 🥰🥰

Morning

AN: In my Poe feels today. Not sorry.

(Un-beta’d, not proof-read well either if i'm being honest)

PWP in which you have sleepy morning sex with Poe

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 755 Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader Warnings: PWP, p in v, kissing, softness and smut bc i'm in desperate need of it, a little bit of a praise kink (if you squint). AO3

———

You wake with your face buried in his neck, your right arm slung loosely across his waist, legs tangled in between his. The slow rise and fall of his chest tells you he’s still asleep, which is unusual given the amount of light streaming into the room. Poe’s always been an early riser, even on his days off he was up with the sun, busying himself with various tasks around the base or researching something for his next mission. It was rare for him to slow down, to take a break…a fact you’d recently brought to his attention.  

You smile, pressing soft kisses into his skin, your nose dragging against the side of his neck. He stirs a little at the contact but remains blissfully asleep. Sighing, you kiss your way up his neck toward his jaw, your teeth nipping at the underside. A quiet groan escapes him, but he still doesn’t wake, not even when you whisper his name in his ear, teeth nibbling gently on his earlobe.  

Suddenly impatient, you slide your hand down his stomach, slipping it beneath the waistband of his boxers. He sighs when you take him in your hand, his hips twitching involuntarily as you stroke his half-hard cock. You latch onto his neck with your lips, sucking a mark into his skin as you pump him slowly. He makes the sweetest noises as you work him up, breathy moans and whines that go straight to your core as you whisper how good he’s being for you in his ear.  

You’re not sure when he finally wakes, only that he does, his fingers digging into your hips as he rolls you onto your back, his lips latching onto yours, swallowing the surprised squeak that leaves you. He says nothing, just grunts, sleepily caging you beneath him as he licks into your mouth. Your moan is muffled as you wrap your legs around him, meeting the lazy thrust of his hips with your own.  

His hand slides down your torso, slipping beneath the lip of your panties to your sopping slit. He groans against your lips as he slides his fingers through your wet folds, dipping briefly into your cunt to collect your slick. You reclaim his mouth with a breathy moan, winding your arms around him as he kisses you back. It turns desperate, tongues clashing as you both attempt to deepen it, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouths. 

His fat cock stretches you open when he pushes into you, and you whimper slightly at the delicious burn of it. Once fully seated, he fucks into you slowly, swallowing your moans with every pointed thrust. Your hands tug at him, somehow trying to pull him closer even though he’s already inside you, surrounding you, every push of his hips taking you higher and higher, closer and closer to your peak. You gasp when he hits something devastating inside you, fingernails digging into his back as his face hovers over yours, his pants fanning across your lips.  

“Poe,” you whine, clinging to him as the telltale tension builds inside you with every thrust of his hips.

He groans softly as you flutter around him, his lips brushing your cheek as he presses his forehead to yours. 

“Taking me so well, sweetheart,” he pants, licking his lips as his eyes greedily rove your face. “You’re so beautiful, feel so good around me, squeezing me–” 

He breaks off with a strangled groan as you contract around him, his steady pace faltering a little as his eyes roll back in his head. You can feel how close to the edge you both are, know you need just a little more. 

“Love you so much, baby,” he breathes, groaning when you flutter around him again. “So good for me.” 

You come when he hits that special spot inside you again, body shaking as pleasure floods every inch of you. Poe is right behind you, his eyes closing in relief as he spills himself into you, hips pumping as the remnants of both of your orgasms begin to dissipate. 

He cradles your face in his hands as you come down, nose nuzzling yours as he leans in to steal a kiss. You smile when he pulls back, combing your fingers through his curls as you take in his disheveled appearance. 

“Morning,” you sigh, smile widening when he chuckles softly in response. 

“Morning,” he rasps, breath puffing against your face as he leans in again to claim your lips in another kiss.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

[ivystoryweaver]

Just for an Hour - Poe Dameron

Poe Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Happy Poevember!

Summary: You lure your best friend to a picnic by a lake, trying to get his mind off of his responsibilities...only to find his mind is fixed on you.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Content: romance, sex is implied and described briefly. More erotic than explicit. Best friends to lovers, slow and soft, in the water, not beta’d

•¨•.¸¸☆*･ﾟﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨*•

"Isn't it perfect?" You nudged your best friend's shoulder as the two of you finished up the picnic you had prepared to surprise him.

Polishing off the last of his beverage, Poe stared out over the serene lake, releasing a cleansing sigh as the water lapped against the tall grass along the shore. The sun, rich gold and majestic purple neared the horizon, sending shimmering beams of light across the water’s surface.

“We should go swimming."

The sound of your voice brought the Resistance commander back to reality, and you regretted having opened your mouth once you heard his reply.

"I have to get back."

"Come on, Poe, it’s quiet out there. This is supposed to be your day off.”

“We don’t get days off.”

“The First Order will still be as evil and dreadful right now as they will an hour from now.” Standing, you kicked off your boots, reaching to unzip your flight suit.

This got Poe’s attention.

Sure, you’d changed clothes in front of him dozens of times. You’d even shared a bed. For sleeping.

But he was wound pretty tightly just ahead of an important mission and it had been a long time since he’d blown off steam in particular ways.

Maybe a swim wasn’t such a bad idea. Could be fun.

“Okay. Ten minutes,” he agreed, granting you a lopsided grin as he rid himself of his own boots and flight suit. This left the two of you in white tank tops and shorts, but as you laughed delightedly and sprinted toward the water, he shed his top as well.

You squealed in excitement and surprise at the surprisingly warm water, which felt absolutely divine against your skin.

“Cold?” Poe asked you before he stepped one toe in.

“No, it feels amazing,” you gushed, twirling around as Poe waded in a few steps before diving right in.

He disappeared for several long moments, prompting you to look around for him. It would be just like him to mess with you, but he was gone for so long that you finally called his name.

Suddenly he tugged on your ankle underwater and you shrieked before laughing. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Dameron!”

Poe popped up behind you, grinning wickedly as he shook wet curls out of his face. Sunlight kissed his dark eyes, making them shine golden as they raked over your body.

You lunged for him, but he turned away to dodge your attack, so you ended up hanging onto his back, with your arms around his neck. Your thighs locked around his torso and you squeezed while attempting to pull him under and dunk him.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he taunted, even as you both tumbled back into the water.

You came up sputtering, with Poe chuckling, amused that your revenge had backfired. “Don’t choke.”

You splashed water right in his smug face, which, of course, started a splashing war. The two of you laughed like kids, splashing and dodging and diving until you were breathless and exhausted, and, for once, thinking about something that wasn’t the First Order looming over the galaxy.

Finally calling a truce, you bobbed in the water, the sun almost gone from the sky and twilight hanging magically around you.

“I needed that,” Poe admitted, tongue swiping over his lips as he noticed the way your white tank top clung to your wet skin.

“You probably need a lot more than that,” you cryptically returned, mesmerized by the water droplets dancing on his long lashes.

“Yeah, like what?”

“I don’t know,” you answered seriously. “I haven’t seen you smile like that…” Chewing on your lip, you tried to come up with an answer. “I can’t remember the last time I heard you laugh.”

“Well, that’s why I have you,” he shrugged, swimming toward you until he was close enough to hold you. But he didn’t.

“That’s why I made you come with me today,” you agreed. “What can I say? I live to see Poe Dameron smile once in a while.”

“We both know that’s not true or you wouldn’t torture me so often,” he teased, splashing you again.

“Please don’t start that again or I might actually drown,” you dramatically pouted, sinking below the water’s surface to emphasize your point, thinking, in the back of your mind, that it might make Poe laugh again, or at least smile.

But he caught you before you went under, his forearm flexing against the curve of your back as he pulled you flush against his chest. “I would never let that happen. You know that.”

“Save me, Commander Dameron,” you teased in a sing-song voice, but your laughter trailed off as his gaze dropped to your mouth. You swallowed hard, attempting to ignore how your body fit up against his like you were two adjoining puzzle pieces.

Your chest heaved at the sudden shift in mood. Spreading your palms against his chest, you braced yourself, feeling as if either of you let go, that you would indeed, drop straight to the lake’s bottom.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, folding you against him for a body engulfing hug. The two of you had shared countless hugs - after successful missions, sometimes playfully, during a fun night out, and ever so rarely, when he would come to you exhausted and broken. Those were the nights he fell asleep in your bed, but it had never gone further than his arms clinging to your waist, seeking comfort.

But the way he pressed your body into his now felt altogether different.

He was giving you something here - you weren’t sure what exactly - but you wrapped your arms around his neck and twisted your fingers into his wet curls, pulling yourself against him harder and whispering his name.

You held one another, suspended in twilight, for a few etherial moments, but it didn’t calm either of you.

Instead, it ignited something. Perhaps it was something new, or something dormant. Or perhaps it was there simmering below the surface, but one turn of his head brought those heated breaths to your cheek. Plush lips grazed the corner of your mouth - the sensation sending you right back to the memory of that half-drunken kiss near the end of last Life Day.

One moment longer passed, the two of you the precipice of something new. Then he covered your lips with his own, sharing your breath for one final moment before licking hotly into your mouth with unrestrained fervor.

Every part of him was touching every part of you somehow, with his thick, muscular thigh wedged between your legs, holding you in place. Gripping your shoulders, he clung to you with everything he had.

You had never been kissed like this in your life, and certainly not by Poe. He was giving you everything while taking it at the same time. You went weak in his arms as he stole your breath and your will to resist, yet you had never felt safer. It took your mind a moment longer to catch up, but once you realized he might pull away in doubt, you tilted your head and kissed him back with all the wild hunger burning inside you.

You heard something deep rumble in the expanse of his chest as his hands pressed the curve of your back, fingertips inching underneath your top, pushing it up to your shoulders. A dizzying euphoria of what could happen here left you gasping as he tore his mouth away, tugging at the hem and murmuring, “Let me feel you,” against your wet, bruised lips.

The slightest nod granted him permission to tear the garment over your head and toss it aside to flop on the water’s surface. Then his mouth found yours again as his hands touched every soft and supple part of you - in ways he’d dared not try before, not even asleep in your bed, against you.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. You might as well be drowning, but in him, rather than the warm lake.

Poe had always been the leader, but you were strong too. He wanted to go right when you insisted on going left. You challenged him, sometimes rather infuriatingly, but he outranked you and you respected that. In your personal friendship however, you always took the lead.

Like today, when you insisted he promise you an hour to relax. Just one hour to not be in charge or everything and carry the hope of the Resistance on his shoulders. He did, and it was wonderful and fun and easy - the way things always felt between you when you weren't butting heads.

And now, in this moment, in the serene, clear water, you'd never been so in sync, holding onto one another as desperately as you had on dangerous missions. Here, where he was now pulling away the flimsy fabric keeping you from feeling and knowing everything about each other.

Finally tearing his mouth from yours, he eased back enough to look into your eyes, and right to your soul - to the utter depths of you. You realized suddenly that he might see the raw, uncertain wonderings and possibilities of what it could be like to love him - really love him. You shivered in his arms and his head tilted quizzically, worry skittering across his handsome features - fear that he read this all wrong and had wounded the bond between you.

Even as he looked at you, his hand guided the thickness of your thigh around his waist and you responded eagerly, wrapping yourself around him and granting him the sweetest smile. A thousand quips came to mind, but this wasn't the moment. Not here, when he kissed you and laid himself bare in every possible way.

You could feel him now, intimately - his arousal rubbed quite obviously against you but he swallowed hard, restraining himself one more moment, to be absolutely certain.

You nodded again, shifting your hips in a suggestively obvious way, pulling him closer with your legs. Wetting his lips, his eyes flickered down between your bodies, where he reached to guide himself inside you, exhaling sharply as he pushed deeper and opened you up to feel the full, heavy length of him.

He groaned in satisfaction and relief, eyes rolling back in his head for a moment before his gaze locked with yours again.

The sensation of being this close to Poe - of actually feeling him inside you went beyond every dream that stirred secret yearnings: previous possibilities you’d crushed with common sense as soon as the sun rose and duty called. He was your friend. Your best friend and it could never be more than that - it wasn't even a thought you’d entertained, because to let the mere notion flicker and dance in your imagination was to give it life, to let it grow and then it would be this thing - this living idea.

And you couldn't kill an idea. It would grow and take the room it needed in your heart and suddenly you'd be overcome with the ridiculous notion that your best friend, and sometimes piloting rival, could ever be as in love with you as you so obviously were with him.

The surge of it overwhelmed you so that you squeezed your eyes shut before it washed over your like a wave, but it was too late - it was swelling and cresting and drowning you, sending your fingers grabbing desperately for his curls and your mouth crashing into his.

•¨•.¸¸☆*･ﾟﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨*•

Darkness enveloped your sated, naked bodies, bobbing gently in the cooling lake. Everything would change now. You both knew it, so you held onto this serenity with adoring caresses and soft kisses.

Something about the cover of night felt perfect as you helped each other out of the water, searching for your discarded, drenched undergarments and laughing under the rising moons.

You dressed in your dry gear and packed up the picnic supplies in silence. But it was the comfortable quiet of a best friendship - the two of you moving in synchrony just as you would in a ship or on a mission.

He reached for the bag of picnic supplies while you held the wad of wet clothes, each of you using your outside arm, leaving hands free between you. His arm brushed yours as you walked - the two of you were always bumping shoulders and causing gossip to ripple through the Resistance base. You assumed tonight would be no different, especially if you returned from seclusion with wet hair.

Gone was the tension in his shoulders and corded neck. As you glanced in his profile, illumined by the moons’ glow, you noted that even his typically clenched jaw had relaxed. The corner of his mouth curved upward as you stared. It made you giggle and elbow him in the ribs. He nudged you right back, starting a flirtatious struggle that ended when he took hold of your hand.

But it wasn’t like before when his grip would halt your playful assault and likely start a wrestling match. This time, tenderly, he brushed his thumb over your knuckles before tangling his fingers with yours. With a gentle squeeze, he lifted your joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss there.

Your breath caught. You swallowed hard as his gaze bore into yours for a brief eternity.

As the base came into view, you fully expected him to release your hand and act the way you always acted. Like friends. But he pulled you aside, behind a tree and crowded into your space.

Chest heaving with trepidation, you wondered how he would end this. What he would say to safely return you to the status of his bantering best friend.

But he kissed you. He dropped the picnic supplies, which clattered loudly to the ground. He took your face in his hands and stole your breath away - made you even weaker, somehow, with the fire of his kiss. Your hands fell limply to your sides, wet clothes thudding on top of the picnic bag.

Before your hesitation could give him one moment’s doubt, however, you gripped his flight suit in your fists and pulled him closer, kissing him endlessly, and with all your heart.

Touching his forehead to yours, he whispered your name, the shape of it tickling your cheek. Turning your mouth to meet his whisper, you kissed again, endlessly, wordlessly.

To love Poe, to touch him, to know him in every way, would present a wondrous journey and beauty you never dreamed could exist in the ugliness of galactic war.

"You're so quiet," he finally whispered, holding you against him. "Can I kiss you next time you defy my orders?"

"Only if you take me swimming after," you laughed, playfully but gently shoving him away.

He caught your hand in his, and granted you the smile you lived for.

•¨•.¸¸☆*･ﾟﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨*•

Supplies gathered, appearances straightened, you made it back to base, bumping shoulders as you walked too close, as usual.

This time, however, as the door whooshed open, Poe slid his fingers through yours and led you inside.

•¨•.¸¸☆*･ﾟﾟ･☆¸¸.•¨*•

Poe Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Join my tag list

[lilacliquors]

kinktober day eight: public sex

pairing: poe dameron x reader

word count: 860

notes: here's day eight! this one was actually requested this morning via @ladypunz so tysm <3

a successful operation called for a celebration. it always did, it was how the resistance kept the morale alive. you were enjoying yourself, drinking and talking with your friends and colleagues, congratulating them on a job well done, when all of a sudden, a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist. you glanced over your shoulder and smiled, seeing your lover, poe, right behind you. 

“hope i’m not interrupting anything,” he said, wrapping a gentle arm around your shoulders from behind, practically pinning you to him.

“not at all, did you need something?” you asked, and he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“yeah, actually. can i talk to you in private?”

that concerned you. you bade goodbye to your friends and allowed him to take your hand and lead you from the main room. you walked outside, and he lead you over towards a sort of alleyway between the building you were just in, and the x-wing hangar. you were about to ask what was wrong, but then he pressed his lips to yours, and you knew just what he needed from you.

it was evident that it was a mix of adrenaline and desire, since he was the mission leader, and he was always like this when he came back home. it was the uncertainty of return, and now that he was back, he wasn’t going to wast another second without you.

the only problem? well, you were outside, in public, where anyone could walk by.

“we … we should go inside,” you whispered as his lips left yours and began to trail down your neck.

“no time. need you now,” he mumbled, and his hands dropped to the front of your pants. you felt him try to shimmy them down your legs, and you knew it was a bad idea. everything in you screamed it was a bad idea, and yet, you couldn’t help but want is just as much as he did. you helped him get your bottoms down, and his followed not soon after. you were hoisted into his arms, your back against the hangar wall, and your legs wrapped around his waist. his lips met yours again, and you cupped his face, closing your eyes as you kissed him deeply. one of his arms held you up, and his free hand wrapped around his length, guiding it to your folds. you felt the head tease them, and you whined softly, nodding quickly to try and encourage him forward.

“patience, gotta stay balanced,” he whispered, grinning against your lips.

“like that’s ever stopped you before,” you replied, and he kissed along your jaw with a soft hum.

“you know me so well.”

he slowly pushed into you, carefully shifting to hold you firmly against the wall. you gasped and leaned your lead back against the wall. you were both quiet for a moment, listening closely for any footsteps or voices, and when there were none to be heard, he started to move. 

despite being outside, and the risks that came with it, his thrusts were steady and meaningful. he took in your gasps and moans, and he groaned when your hand went into his hair. for a moment, you forgot where you were, and you only focused on him, and the way he made you feel. being with him was like a dream, and every time he returned to you, there was a sense of relief that flooded all of your senses. it drove you wild, and you never wanted to let him go.

“mm, oh poe,” you whispered, and he hummed in response, his hands gripping your hips gently.

“that’s it, i got ya,” he murmured, kissing below your ear, the spot he knew drove you absolutely crazy.

“close, so close,” you breathed, and he groaned at the sound of your voice. it was soft and sweet, breathy with need and desire. it was just the way he liked you.

he said nothing, just kept thrusting at the steady pace he’d set, and he could feel your walls clenching around his cock. his hips snapped forward, and he captured your lips in a searing kiss to swallow your moans as you came. your body shook in his grasp, and as you clung to him, he could feel his muscles tense, and with the sensation of you cumming for him, because of him, he followed not far behind.

he pulled back from your kiss and his head fell to your shoulder, but before he could say anything, you heard voices in the not so far off distance. you both looked at each other with wide eyes, and without a sound, he pulled out of you, and you both quickly pulled your pants back up.

“there you guys are! everything okay? it seemed pretty serious,” one of your friends asked, and you and poe shared a look.

“we’re good. he just need to … talk about what happened,” you said, and your friends nodded in understanding.

“yeah, never gets any easier, you know?” poe muttered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“that’s why good support matters,” you said, and he nodded, kissing your temple.

“it definitely does.”

[januaryembrs]

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE | Marc Spector x reader

Request: @happyhauntt says - okay i am BEGGING for a fic based on the song 'forest fire' by brighton (be warned that shit HURTS) but i fully cannot decide between poe dameron, steven/marc or spencer reid so i am giving you full creative direction and i look forward to getting my heart ripped out!!

Description: Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realises he should have saved her.

length: 3.9k

Warnings: Heavy warnings for childhood / domestic abuse/neglect (both from Marc and also reader has a neglectful father) warnings for alcohol, the cave scene, drowning, death etc. you asked for angst, so I served!

authors note: sorry this took so damn long, today isn't even my day off and I have been too exhausted to even look at my computer, but I hope you like it!

Before Randall was too little to be part of his adventures, Marc used to play on his own in the yard. 

Usually that entailed kicking a football at the wooden fence that lined their garden, trying to knock it off his chest when it would come bouncing back the way he’d seen the professionals do it, even if it had led to three milk teeth coming loose already. 

But there weren’t kids on his street to play with, at least that’s what he thought until the one day he kicked his ball a little too high and watched it fly right over the top of the fence, bouncing into the neighbour's yard, a soft “ouch” meeting his ears. 

In minutes, a little head appeared over the wall, beady eyes frowning down at him, and he realised it was a girl around his age, maybe a little younger. 

“Did you lose this?” She held up his soccer ball he was worried he was going to have to kiss goodbye to forever, the small digits of her other hand holding onto the fence tightly. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it so high,” Marc said, and with no more explanation than that, she threw it over to his side of the partition, and her tiny head disappeared back below the fence line. 

He felt stunned. He knew there were moving boxes over that way a couple weeks ago, but as far as he could see there was only a man living there on his own, a scowl on his face most days. Marc had seen him shouting at the other kids on his block to stop riding their bikes in front of his house because it ‘upset the dog’, though Marc had yet to see for himself this canine friend he was speaking about. 

But there was a girl living there! A real life girl who spoke to him; granted he had lobbed a heavy soccer ball at her, from what her distaste told him, and he wondered if perhaps, despite the grumpy look on her face he realised mirrored the man he’d seen living there, that she might like to even make friends with her neighbour. 

“Wait!” He yelled, running up to the fence where she had slipped away from him, grabbing on to the top and pulling himself up to the point he was on his very tippy toes and he could only just about see her yard. 

The grass was unkempt, which was odd because Marc’s own dad cut the grass every fortnight, and there were planks of wood with nails sticking out of them strewn across the side of the shed she had used to pull herself up with. He fought the urge to cringe in disgust, because there, looking up at him from where she was making a daisy chain in the long, dry grass, alone in a pink plaid shorts and a white, dirt stained top, was the girl. 

“Do you want to play?” Marc asked, his foot nearly slipping under him where he was trying to rest it on the wood to take a closer look, “I have tennis, or swing ball we could play?” 

She looked interested at the mop of curly, black hair for a moment, before she looked back at the house that he had still yet to see any sign of a dog. 

“I’m not sure my dad would like it…” She said cautiously, almost whispering to him, picking the soil under her nails. 

“My mom could come around and get you, she could talk to him,” He offered, because this was when his mother was still mom and not Wendy. 

Before she had yet to flip his world entirely upside down with her cruel hands and vicious tongue. Before Steven. 

She seemed unsure, biting her bottom lip and stroking her arms like she was giving herself a cuddle. But she nodded, looking up at him, and he tried to hide just how excited he was to finally have someone to play with. 

“I’m Marc,” He said, grinning at her, his tongue poking between the space where his adult teeth were only just growing back in. 

She told him her name back, and it was the first time he understood what a crush was. 

–

“Marc, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” She said, grabbing his hand so tight he thought his heart might explode. 

“It’s okay, we come here all the time, don’t we, RoRo?” He reassured, looking back to where Randall, now a few years older and big enough to play with them, held onto the side of the cave, his own face nervous. 

“All the time!” The little boy echoed, because Marc knew he had a bit of a thing for her as well, because she was older and cool and smelled like a field of flowers and he hated seeming like he was scared, even though he was. 

He was just a kid. 

They were just kids. 

And being kids, they stumbled into danger without realising it, not even when the rain started coming down outside torrentially and they had to pause their game of pirates to run for cover. They hadn’t expected, in their childish excitement to continue the adventure, that the water would start pooling into the cave; that it would fill up like a basin, whether they were in there or not, and it wasn’t until the screaming started that they realised they were in the kind of danger that required an adult. 

Marc was the first one to get out, his hair soaked, his heart racing, and he used a grown up word he heard his dad use sometimes because he could have sworn they were both right behind him. 

And if that had been true, then where were they? 

He called her name, debated going back in there himself to see where they had gone, then he yelled for RoRo, because she didn’t seem to be answering. 

And there was only silence, except a clap of thunder overhead that said the rain was going to get worse; was not going to stop for hours. 

Which was when he ran to get his dad. 

By the time Elias got there, his glasses wet and steamed, his thick thatch of curls too similar to Marc’s soaked through, all he could see was a head of hair peeking out of the mouth of the cave, and his heart sank. 

He dragged her out of the dark water, arms under her shoulders as he rolled her on her front and started patting her back, trying to get her to spit some of the water out, because her face was ice and her skin was soaked and her playsuit was ripped from where she’d snagged it on the rocks. 

Marc remembered crying into his hands, gaze flicking back to the cave to see if RoRo was right behind her, if he was just waiting to be pulled out as she had been. 

But there was nothing. Nothing but rain water and moss and those damn rocks he’d been gripping onto not an hour earlier. 

His heart leapt when she spluttered finally, after his dad had thrown her over his knee and taken to giving her a one handed heimlich right between her shoulder blades. She spat the water out, her body shivering immediately, eyes bleary as they looked around as if she expected to still be in that dark hole in the wall, and Elias set her down on the grass to go look for his youngest son. 

“Stay with her, Marc,” He barked, uncharacteristically sharp for him though Marc guessed it was fear, and took off towards the cave again. Marc pulled her into his arms, and it was only then they started wailing together. 

They sat there for an hour when the rescue team finally arrived, a medical team with warm hands and even warmer blankets ushering them to the safety of the back of an ambulance, and the last thing Marc remembered for that horrible day was sitting on the stretcher with her pressed against his side, trembling under the reflective wrap they’d been tucked in that made them look like baked potatoes, wishing he had never suggested they go in that damn cave. 

–

“You’re leaving?” She said, her lip quivering, her eyes lined with tears. They sat on his bed, his duffel bag already packed, his acceptance letter burning daggers into his head from his nightstand, “Military? Marc, just think about this for a minute-”

“I have thought about it. I’m not some dumb kid making rash decisions, I want this,” Except he didn’t, not really. What he meant to say was he wanted to leave, to run away and never come back, but the idea of never seeing her again was too difficult to think about. 

She thought about it for a moment, and he held her hand when he saw her face really start to crumble then. “If you go, I’ll have no one left. You’re all I have,”

He didn’t hide the fact he saw how nervous she was when Marc would pick her up from her house and her father would see her out the door, a nasty, inebriated glare in his eyes at the Specter boy. He saw all the times she would tiptoe around the floorboards, the way he knew too well, as if she was scared of what would happen if she took up too much space, made too much noise. Or when his mother had been kind, way back before any of this had happened, and had fussed over her pretty hair, had piled food on her plate because Wendy said she needed the goodness, she had locked up entirely and looked at his mother as if she was an alien. 

Even now, when they were both seventeen, nearly adults in the grand scheme of things, he knew her father was cruel. 

“I’m sorry,” He said honestly, and he felt his own throat clogging up with real emotion he only ever let himself show when he was with her, “When I get a place of my own, I’ll come back here, and we can pack your bags together, and we can live far away from all of this,” 

And it sounded like he was spinning her a fantasy; which he was. She felt like an idiot for believing him, for flashing him a small smile and leaning her forehead to his which was the closest they ever got to admitting how they really felt about each other. 

He wanted to kiss her then, before he left to start his new life, one where they could be happy together, and he made a promise to himself that when he came back for her that would be the first thing he would do. 

He could see it now; he would be in some kind of flashy car with the top rolled down, a man grown from the regime and fitness they would teach him in the army and she would come running to him like an angel parting the clouds, like a dream that was finally within reach, and he would kiss her then, so hard it would make up for the time they had lost, the time they had grieved together, it might even make up for that day she nearly died because of him. 

So he left her, that fantasy of coming back to her keeping him going in the months of training, during roll call and exams and the small, clinical portions they would serve him in the military. 

But that day never came. Somewhere between losing himself to the alter that had formed and led a full life separately to his, between hiding Steven from the ugly truth and becoming a mercenary after dropping from the army, he tucked the dream away as a what if, and he didn’t return back to that house where his mother had caused so much hell. 

Not until the second day of her shiva, that was. 

-

“Marc?” He forgot how sweet his name sounded from her lips, and he hated to admit it in the middle of his drunken state, but he’d wished he’d never heard it again in his entire life. 

Because the second his front door opened, and a woman in a long black dress, heels and lace gloves stared back at him with a face that looked similar to a girl he once knew, only a notch between her brows that said she had done nothing but frown for twenty years, he wished he had never seen her again. 

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he ever gave her credit for, yet she looked tired. Sunken. Like she had wept and screamed alongside all the frowning. 

“Marc,” She said it more determined this time, pacing down the stairs to his home, her footsteps rushed and worried, “Are you okay?,” 

He knew he must look like a mess. He hadn’t stopped crying for three days since he got the first phone call from his father in almost two decades, since he’d learned his mother had passed, and he was already a bottle of whiskey deep by the time he’d stepped out the cab onto the street he grew up on. 

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought she would be there. He guessed she would be far away from this place, just like he had been, in a mansion with a 401k and a dog and a neurosurgeon for a husband. She had always deserved it. 

But here she was, grabbing the bottle out of his hand gently, rubbing a hand over his shoulder like not a day had gone by that they hadn’t seen one another, and it didn’t take him much convincing at all to pull her into a hug he had needed since the day he left. 

“My mum’s dead,” Marc said, sounding like a little boy again when he wept into her neck, squeezing her body to his, and he felt her rubbing his back soothingly. 

“I know, Marc, I’m so sorry,” She hummed, and she smelled like a fancy floral perfume he couldn’t afford to give her before, “I know you must be feeling complicated,”

He nodded, because he couldn’t have put it better himself. He felt complicated. 

“I missed you,” She said, like it was a confession, and he cried harder, his face burying into the crook of her shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” 

“How’s Steven? Is he still around?” She asked, pulling him away to root through her pocket for the pack of tissues she’d kept handy for the day. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sleeved arm over his face to dry it even the slightest. He could feel his cheeks sopping wet from where he had sobbed in the back of the cab like a madman all the way here. 

But she was still fussing over him, and she looked just as pretty as he had remembered her, sitting on his bed that day, if not only a little more tired under her eyes.

Ofcourse she had known about Steven. How else was he supposed to explain the times they would be playing boyfriend-girlfriend together and he would become a different person. 

Sometimes Steven would remember her too, because it didn’t matter to her who he was, she was his best friend either way. He remembered a girl who smelled like summer, sitting on the swings and eating ice lollies together, taking it in turns to push each other, blue tongued and happy. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replied quietly, as she handed him the tissues, “He misses you, too,” 

She smiled at him with her lips pressed tightly.

“I take it you’re not coming in?” She said in a careful tone, and he shook his head quickly. 

“No- I just can’t,” He said, tears welling up in his eyes in seconds, and she wrapped him in another hug immediately, soothing his hurt as fast as it had bubbled back up.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” She hummed, stroking down his back gently, and he hugged her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him together. 

He opened his mouth to speak when his front door opened again, and he worried for a second that it was Elias. 

Instead, he saw a girl no older than five emerge in a cute, poofy dress that met her knees, her hair tucked into a neat braid, lace gloves matching her own as she lingered at the doorway. 

And perhaps the thing that struck him the quickest; she was the damn near double of the girl he’d hit in the head with his soccer ball in that very yard. 

“Mommy,” The girl said in a gentle coo, her eyes empathetic as she met his gaze, more empathetic than he knew children could feel. But, he supposed, if she was her daughter then it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

His best friend turned, her face smoothing out into something peaceful when she saw her little girl, and he knew then she was born to be a mother. Nothing like his own, nothing like Wendy, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. 

She was a mother. 

“Yes, baby?” She said, half stepping towards her child as the girl stumbled down the first step towards them, and she was quick to swoop her into her grasp and onto her hip. 

“I need to use the bathroom,” The girl said shyly, peeking a glance at him over her mum’s shoulder, and she waved at him with tiny fingers. 

He waved back, even if the sight of her had dumped a bucket of cold water all over his body. 

“Alright, baby. Just wait in the foyer, I’ll come take you in just a second, I’m just speaking to my friend right now,” She said, stroking over the back of the girl’s hair softly, and kissing her chubby cheek. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and her mum kissed her once more, plopping her back on the top step to direct her back into the house. And they were alone again. 

She looked at him guiltily, stepping back towards him as she fiddled with her sleeves nervously, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get childcare and I don’t really know anyone in state anymore-”

“No, it-it’s fine,” He stammered, feeling her watching him for his reaction carefully, “What’s her name?” 

“Dalilah,” She replied, rubbing hands up her arms to calm herself. 

“Where’s her dad?” Marc asked, hoping he didn’t sound bitter, but the whiskey made it sound like a bite. 

She shrugged, “He wanted the cars and the house when we split; I wanted her,” She said calmly, like it wasn’t one bomb after another to be dropped on him. 

He knew nothing about her life. He had tried to run away from that promise he’d made her for twenty years, because he knew he would never be good enough for her; that he could never give her the happiness she deserved, even before he had become the Moon Knight. 

At his core, he would rot her, ruin her. He would destroy her.

And yet hearing it was just the two of them alone, he felt like he could take out the piece of shit who ran out on them barehanded and go home to sleep next to her soundly.  

He felt like perhaps, as much grief and anguish as returning back to that house had caused him, perhaps this was his second chance. His chance to be what she needed, to be something good.

He would be so good to them. He would give them everything if she asked. 

“I’m not really in town much, especially with my dad still around,” She said, gesturing to where her yard still stood, full of junk and a dog that had supposedly been kicking strong for two decades, “But I would love to see you again. Lila has school most days so you’re free to come over any day of the week if you want it to be just us; I work at home,” She scribbled an address about two hours away down on a piece of paper, along with her phone number, handing it to his distraught face with a sad smile, somewhat hopeful he would take the olive branch she was shaking his way. 

He took it with a nod, his bottom lip still trembling before he bit it hard enough to force it to stop. He would love to see her, if he would even allow himself something good. If he would just let go of the resentment for everything that reminded him of that time, he could see the two of them healing one another slowly, but surely. 

She could fix him. And he could fix her. The way it had always been with them. 

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Marc said softly, allowing her to grab him tightly one more time, “I really did miss you,” 

She laughed, not properly more like a sad breath out, squeezing him to her, “I loved you so much. I never let you go, you know that?” 

He tried not to sob, almost holding her so maddeningly hard she couldn’t ever leave. 

But he had to let go eventually, and he watched her walk back up the stairs to where his family mourned, her face glinting with something hopeful, holding a flashlight out to him where he was walking around in the dark blindly.

He tried to smile back, though he knew it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn't be truly untouched by the grief he wallowed in. 

And by the time he got back to his hotel room, alone, even more drunk, Khonshu had another job for him that would whisk him away for two weeks. But he kept her number, the piece of paper gripped in his hand tight, like he was determined to keep his promise this time around.

He dialled her number exactly fifteen days later, his body aching, his nose bloodied, but something lighter in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again. The light in his dark, the girl on the swings he’d once pretended to marry during their game of house (the rings had been tiny daisy chains she’d woven together just that morning, their officiant was Randall who could barely ride a bike let alone remember the vows he was supposed to say.) 

Only when the phone got put through, a different woman answered, and the light flickered back out into something cold and dark and vengeful. 

“Oh, oh god, you haven’t heard?” He swallowed thickly, “She was hit by a drunk driver last week picking Lila up from school,” The woman, her cousin, explained, her voice teary and solemn, and he didn’t doubt she’d had to make a thousand of these calls the past few days, “They said it was quick, and Lila went fast so she wasn’t in any pain- and she was only in the ambulance for ten minutes before her heart stopped so she wasn’t hurting long either-” 

But he put the phone down, his eyes wide, his body numb, his chest empty and lonely. 

Because the very last bit of good in him was gone; because everything he touched was cursed and tainted from the offset. 

It took what felt like twenty cups of whiskey for him to black out that night, he knew sleep would evade him, he knew not to even bother trying. And Jake Lockely woke up for him, something mean and hateful in the black of his eyes. 

He didn’t care who, but someone was going to pay for his cielo being taken from them. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

kinktober, day ten

a/n: oops. poe just gets too damn horny when his pretty girlfriend sleeps right next to him.

warnings: poe dameron x reader, smut, dubcon/noncon, somno, established relationship, thigh fucking, dirty talk

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A hazy hum escaped your lips before your eyes even fluttered open, your hips instantly rolling before you realised what was happening. Face nuzzled in the back of your neck, breathing heavily, there lied your boyfriend, though not in the stillness of slumber as you realised what the fussy sensation between your soft thighs was. 

“Poe?” you breathe groggily as he desperately fucked the flesh just shy south of your core, “w-what are you-”

“Shh, it’s okay, babe,” he croaked, snaking an arm around your waist, “you can just go back to sleep, it’s alright.”

As your hips then intuitively gave a gentle wiggle, you let out a gasp as the movement caused his thrusts to angle further up, his bulbous tip ending each lavish motion with a dizzying poke to your clit. Eyes fluttering closed, your hand shot back to cling to his back as a wordless plea for him to keep going. 

“Sorry, you just needed your rest,” you felt his kisses flutter across your neck as he panted, “I couldn’t find it in me to wake you,” his pace grew more insistent as he then groaned, “but your ass felt so damn soft against my dick and then you kind of shifted a bit in your sleep, and your thighs just kind of-…” his confession was abruptly cut off and morphed into a strangled moan as you swiftly sensed his hot load slicken up your inner thighs, “fuck…”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[campingwiththecharmings]

Some Like it Hot (2)

AN: HIIIII. Right. So. Part one is here. This...diverted quite a bit from what I had originally intended but, I can't say that I'm too mad about it. 🤭 This has very little to no plot, negl.

(Un-beta’d)

Poe is your muse and you can't help but see the beauty in everything he does.

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,481 Pairing: Firefighter!Poe Dameron x Photographer!F!Reader Warnings: PWP, smuffy af, p in v, idiots in love, morning sex, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

You wake gently, the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains, filling the room with its glow. You smile, eyes fluttering as you stretch, allowing yourself to sink into the mattress a little. The sheets rustle beside you as Poe shifts, drawing your gaze. You take a moment to study him, splayed on his belly, your eyes tracing the soft curve of his lips, the sharp cut of his jaw, smooth brow, and stubbled cheeks. He’s a work of art, really. Just…stunning. Every inch of him is perfect, as if he’d been chiseled from a block of marble by the gods themselves. And if that wasn’t enough, he also had a heart of gold. Never in your life have you met someone so kind and caring, so ready and willing to help others. 

You’d started dating almost immediately after your encounter at your studio (quite literally that same evening), and now here you are, months later waking up with him in your bed. Maybe it’s strange but you love watching him sleep, love to watch the light from the windows play over his bare skin, love to study the way his short curls fall across his forehead. The artist in you longs to capture this moment, and you can’t help but give in. Silently, you reach over to the bedside table and grab your phone, quickly swiping the camera app open and pointing it at him. You take a few moments to get the angle just right, then click the shutter button. 

He knows, of course, knows your gallery is full of photos of him (and occasionally, him and you). That’s not to say that he really gets it though, how inspired you are by him. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just a regular guy. He’s supportive though, indulging your fascination.

Unable to help yourself, you roll toward him, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. He stirs almost immediately, his full lashes fluttering as he opens his warm, brown eyes. You smile at him, pushing your fingers through his mussed curls.

“Morning,” you greet, your voice soft as you rouse him from sleep.

He returns your smile, eyelids heavy as he shifts and rolls onto his side to face you.

“Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. 

His eyes drop to the phone still in your hand and his lips quirk in amusement. “Taking creeper shots of me again?”

You chuckle at his teasing, your cheeks warming. “Guilty.”

He grunts, reaching over and plucking the device from your grasp. “My turn.”

“No, stop,” you laugh, covering your face with your hands. “I haven’t even washed my face yet, come on.”

He tsks, grabbing your hands and playfully pushing them away. “You got me, only fair that I get you.”

You groan theatrically, pouting at him as he sits up and quickly your phone into position. “Yeah but, I’m not you.”

He snorts, the click of your shutter reaching your ears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suddenly, you lunge, kicking the blankets away to free your legs and arms. He chuckles, moving the phone out of your reach. 

“Not all of us are as photogenic as you, Poe, just—give it back.”

He rolls onto his back laughing, your phone still clutched in his hand. “A photographer who doesn’t like getting their picture taken. Aren’t you a cliche?”

You growl, crawling over and up his torso, arm outstretched as you reach again for your phone.  “Shut up.”

His laughter becomes muffled as your chest presses against his face, the vibration sending a tiny shiver down your spine. You rise up slightly on your knees, the hand not reaching for your phone braced on his muscled shoulder. His free hand comes to rest on your lower back, steadying you as you reach. 

When you finally manage to take your phone back, he doesn't put up much of a fight, instead taking the opportunity to pull you even closer with his other hand. He nuzzles your breasts through your t-shirt, your breath hitching when his nose bumps against your nipple.

“You had ulterior motives, I see,” you breathe, the fingers of your free hand tangling in his hair as his hands slip down and underneath your shirt.

He chuckles, moving his face back from your chest as he pulls your shirt up and over your head. His hands slide up to your shoulders once you’re bared to him, his eyes meeting yours as he leans in to take your nipple in his mouth. Your lips part in a gasp, your fingers tightening in his curls, and he groans at the slight sting of his scalp. The vibration makes your hips jolt against him, your body instinctively seeking friction as desire quickly wells inside you.

You sigh his name as he releases your nipple, mouthing his way over to your other breast to lavish the same attention. 

“So beautiful,” he mumbles, flicking the tip of his tongue against the pebbled flesh before sucking it into the molten heat of his mouth.

Your head falls back with a moan, your phone slipping from between your fingers and landing on the plush comforter of your bed. Poe’s hands slide down to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he encourages you to keep grinding against him. You can feel the hardness of his cock even through the thick fabric of his pajama pants, your need for him growing. He groans as you move, pulling back from your chest, the absence of his mouth dragging your gaze back to his. You swallow hard, the combination of lust and awe in his eyes making goosebumps rise on your skin.

He pulls your mouth back to his then, licking into it languidly, as if he has all the time in the world. You melt into him, your bare chests pressing together as you wind your arms around his neck. You let yourself get lost in his kiss, in the soft, wet slide of his lips as they brush against yours. It feels like you’re drowning, drowning in a sea of bliss, a sea where Poe is your only lifeline.

Poe slips his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, his thumb briefly circling your clit as he slips the others lower. He works you open gently, your cries of pleasure muffled by his lips and tongue. He brings you to your peak quickly, drawing out your pleasure with each pump and flick of his fingers.

You share a moan when you finally sink down onto his length, your slick heat welcoming him, engulfing him. He pulls your mouth back to his as you begin to ride him, your body rising and falling shallowly at first. His hand on your hip helps to steady you as you gradually increase your pace, your hands braced on his shoulders. 

“Poe,” you whine, throwing your head back as you chase the pleasure racing through you. “Feels so good—fuck, so good.”

He groans as he watches you, his eyes almost black with desire. “You feel like a dream, sweetheart. So beautiful like this.”

A shiver races through you at his words, at his attention. He’s always like this, so present, making you feel so desired, like there’s no one else he’s ever wanted so badly as you. He pulls you close, pressing his forehead against yours as you race toward your release, groaning as you move and clench around him. You moan when his thumb finds your clit, his touch bringing you even closer to the edge.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathes, pushing his hips up from the bed every time you sink down onto him again. “Take what you need.”

A few more thrusts and you’re there, body going taught, mouth slack, as you sail over the edge. His moan is broken as you fall apart around him, your body squeezing him, trying to take him with you. He spills himself deep inside you with a groan moments later, his hips stuttering with the force of his release. 

You stay like that for a while, just wrapped around each other, his softening cock still sheathed inside you.  It’s comforting, having him this close, feeling this connected to him. Poe strokes your back soothingly, leaning in to press a soft kiss against the corner of your mouth. You smile, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he melts into you.

“You working today?” you ask, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

He makes a noise, then shakes his head. “Nope. I’m all yours today, baby.”

You chuckle, eyelashes fluttering as he presses a hot kiss against the side of your neck. “Mmm, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Knock On Wood, We All Stay Good

Poe Dameron x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 27: Period Sex

Summary: Poe wants to make you feel good.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). Huge thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for saving me and betaing again!

Warnings: period sex, p in v sex, swearing, not super heavy on the blood aspect, but there are some mentions of it, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 600

“Shit,” Poe pants in your ear. 

He’s practically got his back bowed above you, wanting to stay as close as possible while being able to glance down and watch as his cock sinks in and out of you. 

“Okay?” He mutters, trying to hold back the deep moans that beg to escape. 

You nod, rocking your hips with his and digging your fingers into his back. 

“Thank you, fuck, thank you for letting me,” he groans, unable to stop himself now. He leans up further, needing to watch as your blood stains his cock. “Fuck, so…” He whines.

He wants to believe that this is solely for you, you’re the one on your period, you’re the one who’s uncomfortable and in pain. Orgasms helped right? He’d heard that. 

But he knew this was nowhere near a selfless act. He needed to fuck you while you were bleeding. Embarrassed about how hard it made him, how his cock throbbed and pulsed at even the thought. 

And you’d agreed, kissing his neck and coaxing him into bed with you, laying down on the towel you'd spread out over the bedding. 

He’d been so excited he’d nearly come the second you’d taken off your clothes. 

Poe whines low in his throat, his eyebrows pinching together. “Is it,” he swallows, trying to get a hold of himself and keep his head above the deep pleasure that wants to eat him alive. “Is it nice for you?” 

You nod, the thick grind of his cock hitting so wondrously deep, massaging the ache from your walls as he moves and rubs your thighs with his hands. His girth stretches you deliciously wide, splitting you open and sending shivers up your spine. 

“It’s good,” you manage to get out, your orgasm is tantalisingly close. Just burning on the edge of your vision.

“Fuck,” he bucks a fraction harder, faster, and you know he’s close. “Fuck, please let me take you again like this, god!” He almost passes out when you nod, looking up at him with your soft eyes. 

“You’re too good for me,” he whimpers, his voice thick. Everything was so warm and wet, the mess between your legs and his was just spurring him on. Adding fuel for the seemingly never dying fire. He could fuck you all day, all night. Had to be in you at all times to feel how you pulse and squeeze and weep around his cock. 

“Poe,” you whine, your muscles tensing, back arching. 

“God,” he almost forgets how to breathe. Quickly he reaches between you both and rubs softly at your clit, matching his movements to the rhythm of his hips. Just a little more, just a little more. 

He bites his lip, desperate to hold back and see you gushing all over him. 

You cry out as pleasure washes over you, pulls at your nerves and plays you to its beat. Your walls pulse around him, flooding with new wetness. 

He swears loudly, nearly pulled down himself as you come, unable to tear his eyes away from your face as you collapse into euphoria. 

As you slump back he slows his hips, glancing down and moaning at the sight. He pulls back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside before slowly easing back in and delighting in the warmth and shudders you greet him with. 

He kisses along your jaw, capturing your lips for a moment as he bucks lazily a few more times. He grins when you look up at him and stroke his sweaty hair out of his eyes. 

“Can I make you come again?”

Thank you for reading!

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[ierofrnkk]

I Love You, Go Back To Sleep

Poe Dameron x reader (~4.3k)

Summary: you and Poe wake up early, and have a very important conversation.

Content: all ages BUT there’s one section where Poe grabs your ass but like. That’s it so. :). gn!reader, love confessions, Poe being a mess, sickeningly sweet love bombs

a/n: Happy Poevember! This took far too long to get finished, but I hope you enjoy! I love this boy so dearly; I hope I did him justice!

—

You spend more time in Poe’s bed than he does, that’s just a fact.

It’s not that he minds it all too much—most of the time he’s away, off flying somewhere you can only dream of, leaving his bed back on base painfully empty.

That’s where you come in.

—

His room is much closer to where you carry out your duties anyway, working maintenance on all the ships and speeders not currently being used, so it just makes sense for you to stay there when it’s not occupied.

It’s even better when he comes home, though, because even then, he doesn’t kick you out.

If he comes into his room and you’re still there, he won’t complain. If you try to leave so that he can have some well-deserved rest after a mission, he’ll protest and wrap his arms around you, pulling you back into his bed without another word.

It’s how you’ve ended up here this morning.

—

D’Qar’s climate definitely offers no favors to sharing a bed with someone, and combined with Poe’s body heat, it’s a lot warmer than you’d like. The sheets are cool on your skin, though, and the comfort of his arm slung around you makes up for it all.

On days like today, when there’s no mission to complete, no work to be done, the two of you make the most of it where you can.

The warm glow of the early sun casts a beautiful light into the room, highlighting Poe’s features so prettily that it’s almost unfair—his long, dark lashes, the shape of his nose, those soft, full lips.

You’re convinced you could look at him for the rest of eternity, and never become tired of the sight.

Not long after you’ve begun memorizing every detail of his face, he stirs beside you, arms wrapping tighter around you to pull you in closer to him. After a certain point, you’d swear that it’s almost instinctual, the way he clings to you.

When he shifts slightly, you move to bring a hand up, fingers brushing delicately through his dark curls as he comes out of his deep sleep.

“Mm,” He hums, squinting as the sunlight gets in his eyes.

“Time’s it?”

You chuckle softly at his half-asleep words, finding so much joy in the way he looks when he first wakes up—he isn’t put together, isn’t the cocky hotshot that you’re familiar with. He’s just warm, and soft, and him.

At the question, you shrug slightly, turning in his arms to face him a little bit better.

“It’s early,” you tell him. “Sun’s barely risen.”

He hums again in acknowledgement, starting to wake up a bit more fully now, and you drink in every minute of it.

It’s moments like these that serve to further solidify the fact that you love him.

He knows as well as you do that there’s nothing on the agenda for the day—no plans, no missions, nothing—so, he’s definitely going to take advantage of it.

“You watching me sleep, sweetheart?” He teases, turning as well, moving to lay on his side to face you better; the sleepiness is still written heavily on his face.

You nod, as if it were a fact carved into stone, not even bothering to hide the grin on your face.

“Can’t help it, you’re beautiful when you’re asleep.”

He laughs at that, the sound absolutely radiant in your ears, bringing a hand up to wipe across his face as he tries to stifle his grin.

When he’s finished laughing, he just looks at you for a moment, his gaze toeing the fine line between gentle and intense. He looks like he’s studying you, like he’s cataloging every inch of you to memory.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before your hand finds his somewhere between the two of you, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet, Poe,” you tell him, the slightest hint of a tease edging into your tone.

He scoffs at that, though the nod he gives tells you more than his words probably are letting on.

“Forgive me for not being totally on my game; it’s early,” he teases right back, settling more into himself with every passing moment.

You wave a dismissive hand at that, letting the room fall silent between the two of you once again. Not that you two ever feel a need to fill a heavy silence with conversation—you’re both content enough with each other’s company to go without chatting.

His hand gives yours another gentle squeeze, before he lets go, moving to brush his fingers through your hair, before his hand trails down to rest on the side of your neck. His palm is warm, and his thumb brushes the side of your jaw with a gentle reverence that you’ve grown familiar with.

It doesn’t take long for his fingers to curl around the back of your neck, pulling you forward and into a soft, languid kiss.

Even without using his words, Poe is incredibly skilled at communicating what he wants, and that’s something you’ve come to understand quite clearly.

After a few beats, you pull back—not too far, but just enough to allow yourself some room to speak.

“Thought you wanted to sleep in today, Dameron?”

He snorts at that and leans in for another kiss, trying to dodge the question, but you pull back enough so that he has to answer you.

“We can go back to sleep later, promise,” he mutters to you, pulling you back in for another kiss, and you really can’t protest. Not when he says it in that voice.

This is probably your favorite Poe—sleepy and soft around the edges, more affectionate than he knows what to do with. He’d never admit it, but he loves this just as much as you do.

You pull away from the kiss after a few moments, turning your head to press a few soft kisses to his neck, just beneath his jaw. He sighs in response, tilting his chin back slightly to allow you better access.

At the movement, you press a few more kisses to his throat, taking your time with him.

He lets out a soft noise as your lips come in contact with the sensitive skin of his throat, the sound just barely noticeable, but still very much present. Before you, he never thought of himself as the type to take things slow, to be gentle and intimate—you’ve brought that out of him, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

His hands wander again, moving until they find the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath the fabric—he doesn’t seem to be wanting to start anything just yet, but he’s seeking out the warmth of your skin.

You make a soft noise of your own when his hands find your skin beneath your shirt, having missed the feeling of him on you like this. You could be seriously content with just him touching you like this, like you’re the only person in the entire galaxy for him.

He seems happy with this, too, but you can tell that he wants more. He’s very easy to read, like that.

You dip your head a little bit farther down, pressing those kisses a bit lower on his throat; you’re not quite pushing this into more intense territory, but more so just showing him more of that gentle affection.

He hums softly at that, the sound clear against the otherwise silent air of the room. As if on instinct, his hands on your waist beneath your shirt grip you a little tighter, his desperation more evident for you than he probably means to show.

His grip is never too tight, thankfully, but it’s definitely enough for you to notice that it’s there.

It doesn’t last long, though, because before you can even register it, his hands have traveled further, trailing down to the curve of your ass, kneading the skin as he attempts to pull you closer to him.

It’s nothing new to you, this desperate, nearly possessive side to him; the way he clings to you like you’ll vanish into thin air if he lets go. The sudden feeling causes you to falter slightly in your rhythm of pressing kisses to his throat.

You take this moment to breathe, brush your nose against the skin of his neck as you decide how far you want to take this.

“Easy, flyboy.”

You warn him gently, though there’s some true firmness to your tone.

He has a tendency to rush things, to want to always bring things to the fiery passion, the intensity that you’re familiar with. You love that as much as he does, but now isn't the time for that.

His touch on you doesn’t falter at the warning, though he definitely pauses to think for a minute, letting his hands wander back up to your waist and your sides.

There’s a stubbornness in Poe, a deep-seated need to follow through on his path, but he listens to you. He always does.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “can’t help it.”

His eyes flutter closed, and he shifts forward to nuzzle against you.

“Wanna touch you. All of you.”

You have to commend his honesty; no matter what, he’s always honest with you.

You press a gentle kiss to the corner of his jaw, a show of affection for his apology, and a soothing gesture in an effort to soothe the way his heart jackrabbits in his chest.

He wants to bring this to that same heat that the two of you usually fall into, to make you fall apart from his touch the way he has so many times before, but you’re purposefully taking it slow.

You want him to go slow.

“I know,” you murmur into his skin, nuzzling against his jaw.

“This is okay for now.”

There’s something in the softness of your tone, the way that you show that slight bit of vulnerability to him, it makes him stop for a second. The slight vulnerability in your tone is palpable, and he picks up on that immediately. It’s not an outright dismissal, but he understands.

His hands settle on your waist, no longer gripping you tightly or skimming across your body endlessly. He’s slowed down.

He’s not used to you asking for this, for him to be so soft with you—but, he’s far from complaining. His thumbs rub across your hips gently, a gentle but affectionate touch.

“Okay,” he murmurs, his tone echoing yours.

“Okay.”

You feel as if you can breathe a little bit easier when he agrees to your soft request, grateful that he’s going along with this.

It’s not that you don’t like when he’s a bit more passionate—you do, stars, you do—but it’s nice to be softer every once in a while. Gentler.

He seems to agree with the sentiment; he gets it. He always does.

It’s why you love him so much.

“Thank you.”

You shift in your position slightly, moving a bit closer to him so that you can brush your nose against his, before pressing your lips to his own in a gentle kiss.

He takes to this new, slower pace easily, letting out a soft breath when you kiss him this time around.

There’s a new sort of warmth that surfaces between the two of you, something not quite unfamiliar, but definitely not something the two of you know all too well.

It’s intimacy, plain and simple. It settles over the two of you like a warm blanket.

One of his hands moves up to cradle your jaw, holding you close to him as you kiss, and for the first time since you’ve known Poe, he seems hesitant. Like he’s genuinely trying so hard to not mess this up.

The kiss is slow, and soft, and like nothing that the two of you have shared before. You decide right then that you like it.

It feels good. Arguably better than it does during the more passionate bouts with him.

Your hand mirrors his, coming up to rest on the side of his neck, your thumb brushing across his jaw, soothing him and giving him another gentle show of affection.

As you continue to kiss him, your other hand finds its way onto his hip, your fingertips skimming beneath the hem of his shirt, seeking out the warmth of his skin just as he did you a few minutes ago.

“Missed you lately,” you murmur, just barely pulling back enough from the kiss to get the words out.

The kiss slows as you speak, and he takes it in stride, responding with a tone that easily matches your own.

“Missed you, too.”

And it’s the truth. He really had been missing you lately, maybe more than he’d ever like to admit. The General had been sending him on more and more missions, and he’s been worn pretty thin.

Which is exactly why today’s day off was so absolutely vital to him.

He’d probably never tell you, but he’s been counting down the seconds to this day, waiting so eagerly to have you in his arms again; he’s missed the feeling of your skin, the sound of your voice.

You’re much less afraid to admit this to him—the feeling of longing that settles into your chest whenever he’s gone, the way that you miss him so deeply. You miss the feeling of his hands on you, the scent of him on your clothes.

It feels like every one of his missions takes longer than the last, being sent to neighboring systems and beyond.

Your hand slides from his neck into his hair, your fingers brushing his unruly, dark curls as you hold him close to you. You figure that the two of you have gotten this far already, so you might as well continue this conversation that’s been started.

“Was watching the skies every day, waiting for you to come home,” you tell him, the words murmured against his lips.

You can hear the way his breath catches in his chest at your words, that gentle sincerity with which you say them.

He knows that you miss him when he leaves—stars, he’d be a fool to not know that—but it doesn’t make hearing you say it aloud to him any less effective.

He almost says it—I love you—it’s right there, right on the tip of his tongue, the words clawing desperately at his throat and trying hard to get out. He swallows them down, keeping the words behind his teeth and under his tongue for now.

At your words, he sighs, leaning forward to nuzzle against the side of your neck.

You mean every word of what you’ve said.

You waited every day, watching the skies whenever you could, looking out for that X-Wing of his and praying to the Maker that it’d come screaming back into the atmosphere.

The elation you felt when he finally did come home was indescribable; you nearly tackled him in the hangar.

When he buries his face in your neck, you let him, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access to press soft kisses to your skin.

You want to tell him you love him, too, but you’re just as stubborn as he is, so you bite your tongue.

“Missed you every day,” you tell him. “Couldn’t wait for you to come home.”

He groans at your continued confession, the sound muffled against your skin.

The way you had thrown yourself into his arms when he finally came home is burned into his mind, you’d nearly brought him to his knees, and he’d barely been able to find the strength to let you go.

He’s tried so hard to keep his true feelings hidden, locked away behind a smirk and a wink, but it’s gotten to a point where that’s impossible. He’s starving for you, craves you more than air in every possible way.

“Every single day,” he murmurs, finally breaking his too-long silence. “Wanted you so badly I could barely think straight.”

You remember just as well as he does how tightly you clung to him, how you couldn’t bear to be away from him. You tell him just as much.

“Didn’t want to let go of you in that hangar, I—“ you take a breath, your hands beginning to trace gentle shapes across his sides.

“—I couldn’t. I missed you so much.”

He lets out another soft sound when you say that, something about the vulnerability of your words striking a nerve deep within him. He nuzzles against you further, like he’s trying to imprint the feel of your skin on his for the rest of time.

His heart is racing in his chest, he’s sure that you can feel it.

Poe’s never been good with talking about things like this. The serious stuff. His feelings.

But with you, it all comes easy.

As your fingers glide over his skin, that gentle touch grounding him in reality, in this moment, the dam breaks, and he can’t hold the words in anymore.

“I love you,” he murmurs, the confession barely above a whisper against your skin.

When you hear the words, those words, your entire world slows down on its axis. You’ve been dying to tell him for so long, aching to hear those same words from him.

You wanted to tell him when he came home, when he jumped out of his X-Wing and almost immediately took you into his arms.

You wanted to tell him every time he let you win a game of sabacc, every time he looked at you with those soft eyes, like you were the one that hung the stars in the sky.

Your hands have stilled on his waist, and you’re no longer concerned with touching him when such a confession has just been made.

Shifting slightly in your position, you move so that you’re able to press a kiss to the top of his head, buried in his curls. You nose at him gently, encouraging him to turn his head so that you can press a kiss to his temple, his cheek, and eventually his lips.

“I love you, Poe Dameron.”

The words have never come easier.

He all but melts against you when you say that, aided by the feeling of you pressing kisses all over his face.

For a moment, he almost struggles to believe it—that you of all people, in the entire galaxy, love him.

You love him.

He kisses you, though it’s much slower than anything either of you are used to. It’s intimate, like he’s trying to express his feelings without the use of any more words.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips.

You’re convinced that the sound of him telling you that is going to be imprinted on your brain for the rest of time, stuck on a loop like a broken holovid.

You kiss him again. And again. It’s like you can’t get enough of him—you couldn’t before, but this confession adds another layer to it.

You feel like you’ve been waiting an eternity to hear him say those words to you, and now that you’ve heard them, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

To try to ground yourself, your hands continue to skim across his sides, fingertips trailing around the warm expanse of skin beneath his shirt like you’re trying to memorize every inch of him.

“Should’ve told you sooner,” he adds, mumbling the words between kisses. “Been going crazy wanting to say it.”

You feel like you’re the one going crazy when he says that, the weight of his words taking root in your mind and refusing to leave.

After what feels like an eternity, you come to your senses just a little bit, managing a response to him.

“Yeah?”

You’re a little more than breathless at this point, clinging desperately to what little composure you have left by this point.

“How long have you wanted to tell me?”

“Months,” he manages, the words mumbled against your lips. “So long. Wanted to say it every time I came home, but I—couldn’t. Couldn’t find the words.”

You let your hands rest there, settled warm against him, taking the time to process the words and the weight of his confession.

The mental image of his words is clear in your mind—the thought of him coming home from a mission, and right when he sees you, tells you he loves you—it’s a good thought. You want to hold onto it forever.

“You should’ve,” you tell him, the words soft against his lips.

He shivers at your touch—you can feel it—and it takes every ounce of strength in him to keep his composure.

He can picture that thought just as well as you can, and the image nearly makes him whine.

“I will next time, I swear,” he promises, the slightest hint of desperation beginning to edge into his tone, his words an earnest confession, soaked in devotion.

You nod in agreement, pressing another soft kiss to his lips to placate him, and he accepts it graciously.

Maker, you don’t know how you got so lucky with someone like him.

“Love you,” you tell him again, just for good measure; you’re starting to get very used to the sound of those words on your lips, the taste of them in your mouth.

He likes the sound of you saying that just as much.

“Say it again,” he mutters, his voice low and thick with emotion.

“Love you, flyboy,” you reiterate, the words murmured like a prayer against his skin.

He sighs wantonly at your words, his hands coming up to rest on either side of your neck, holding you close against him as if nothing else in the world matters.

Something burns within him when you call him flyboy, and he shudders at the sound of that word coming from your mouth.

“Only you,” he starts, voice soft. “Only you get to call me that.”

The warmth in him seems to transfer to you, blooming warm and hazy somewhere in your chest as he says that, telling you that you’re the only one who gets to call him that name.

You can’t stop yourself from kissing him, pressing your lips to his as if to transfer everything you’re feeling into his skin directly.

“It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you, you know,” you tell him, sincerity bleeding into your tone and cutting through the haze of affection.

“Seeing you up there, flying like you own the skies.”

“Is that right?” He asks you hastily, trying so hard to focus on the teasing when the conversation is so important.

“You fell in love with a hotshot pilot?”

Even now, he can’t help himself from being cocky—it’s just in his nature.

You can’t help but chuckle at that, the juxtaposition between the playful tone of conversation and the way he falls apart at your words seemingly almost too much for you to handle.

You tilt your head slightly, your nose brushing his as you kiss him again, never straying far enough to create any real distance between the two of you; your forehead presses to his when you break, the two of you sharing the same air for a few moments.

“Mm. I fell in love with you, Poe,” you murmur, the words soft between you.

“You just so happen to be a hotshot pilot.”

You can tease just as much as he can.

He scoffs at your words, but the sound is barely anything substantial—a thin veneer of cockiness that he’s putting on as the two of you continue this banter.

He grips you a little bit tighter, but his hands never seem to want to settle, moving from the back of your neck to your hips and everywhere in between.

“Stars, sweetheart,” he mutters, his voice a little more unsteady now.

“You make me feel like I’m gonna come apart at the seams; I love it when you talk like that.”

You can’t help but chuckle softly at that, at the way that his already barely-there filter has completely vanished. This is arguably the most open and honest that you’ve ever seen Poe, and that’s saying something.

Your hands settle overtop of his, forcing him to stop and to give himself a moment to think, and the look in his eyes tells you that he’s grateful for that. He can barely process everything that’s happened this morning, trying to get his head around the weight of the conversation.

It’s sweet, seeing him completely struggling with his words, grappling with the fact that you love him.

For good measure, you remind him again of your feelings, just so that he can really understand that you mean every word.

“I love you, Poe Dameron.”

He softens at the repeated confession, the words seeming to finally sink in for him.

“Love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice soft and a bit sleepy now; all that love-confessing probably wore him out.

Poe is definitely the type to have a life-changing conversation, and then promptly fall right back asleep afterwards.

“Gonna go back to sleep?” You ask, the slightest hint of a tease in your voice.

He nods, moving to wrap his arms around you a little tighter. Clearly, he just wants you close now more than anything. Before he can secure you in his grip, you turn in his arms, so that his chest is pressed to your back, and he feels so much warmer this time around when he pulls you in close.

He buries his face in the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, pressing a few warm kisses to the skin there.

You grin, satisfied and eager to fall back asleep in his arms, but you can’t help yourself from asking him to say it one more time.

“You love me?” You ask, voice soft and the slightest bit playful.

He nods again, clinging to you a little bit tighter.

“Yes, I love you,” he punctuates the words with another kiss to your neck. “Now go back to sleep.”

You chuckle softly at that, and allow yourself to get settled in his arms. It’s not long before you’re back to sleep, with Poe clinging to you tightly—as if he’d ever let go.

tags: @silvernight-m , @faretheeoscar , @winniethewife , @ivystoryweaver