themodawakens ([personal profile] themodawakens) wrote in [community profile] tfa_kink2015-12-19 05:36 pm
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PROMPT POST #1 - CLOSED

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+ All prompts should focus on TFA characters. You can't post OT or PT-only prompts.
+ One prompt per comment please.
+ You can request both kink and non-kink content
+ Crossovers, characters from the other media are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 movie in some way.
+ All prompt comments should begin with a pairing tag (eg Rey/Finn) or Gen for no pairing.
+ Use 'Any' when prompting for any pairing at all (eg Kylo/Any or Any/Any)
+ Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Poe/Other)
+ Warn for common triggers, please
+ NO PROMPTS FEATURING CHARACTERS UNDER 18 IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS.

[FILL] Poe x Female Reader Smut

(Anonymous) 2015-12-25 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
(I hope you're ok with more than one fill for this, because the world needs more Poe / Reader fics I agree.)

Coming Home

Every time he flies, she feels it in her chest—a tightness, like a band around her lungs, until he’s back on the ground, back with her.

It’s ridiculous, and she knows it; it’s not as if he’s the only pilot in the Resistance, not the only one to fly daring missions, alone in hostile territory. There are numerous wives, husbands, partners who feel just as she does.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

When the news comes that Poe has been captured, she feels the tightness in her chest compress, squeezing in and in until she almost can’t breathe. All eyes are on her, she knows; if he can be strong, then she can be strong. She doesn’t wilt, doesn’t acknowledge the pain until she’s back in her quarters, behind closed doors.

Only then, does she allow the tears to fall.

It feels like an eternity goes by, no news, no report. She aches to know where he was sent, but of course that’s classified, and she has no right to ask it. If she were to know, that would make her a liability, compromise the entire mission. She can remember how much they had planned, the late hours Poe had spent in conference with the General, with the Admirals. Never in a thousand years would she want to undo that vital work. But…

Ah, there’s the truth of it, though. Given the chance—if the universe were anything but what it was—she would go to him, find him. Her Force ability is limited at best, but she knows she would be able to find him across any distance. She believes in him, and tells herself that if he had been killed, she would know. But the pain of his absence hollows her out, day by day, until she feels like she’s a walking shell.

He’s still alive. She knows it must be so. He told her he would return, and she trusts him.

Then one day, there he is. Standing in the doorway of their quarters, his dark eyes fixed on her. There’s a new scar on the side of his forehead, and his cheeks look faintly gaunt, but he’s alive, and he’s here, and there’s nothing more beautiful in the whole galaxy.

She runs to him, embraces him, faintly hysterical but no less fierce. Now that she has him she’s never letting go.

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Poe murmurs into her hair, his arms wrapped around her. “Shh, it’s all right…”

But she can only sob into his shirt, clutching his clothing in her hands. He’s the one who’s been wounded, she knows. Why should he comfort her? Suddenly she feels selfish, and tries to pull back, looking up into his face, searching for—

She doesn’t know what. All around them, the Force pulses and swirls faintly, out of reach as it always is to her, but warm and soft and right.

Poe’s brow furrows as he looks down at her. “What is it?”

She shakes her head. Now’s not the time. He smiles, and draws her back in, threading his fingers up through her hair as she bends into him. He’s not a tall man, not striking or physically imposing, but next to her he’s always felt like solid oak, a shelter from the storm. She knows that Poe draws every eye in the room when he walks in, and knows that the respect he’s earned didn’t come easily. And she knows that for all his charisma, there’s no one else who ever sees this side of him.

It’s been too long. She pulls at his shirt, tugging up to expose his waistline, feeling her body come alive from the first touch of skin to skin. Her hands trail along his waist, over to the front of him, rolling muscle under warm skin. Alive, unharmed, and real. Suddenly all of the emotions she’s been suppressing, keeping under wraps, come to the surface. Poe bends down, capturing her mouth with his own, and it’s like a dam has broken.

Hands scramble, tugging at clothing, tossing it aside. She feels him cup her breasts with his hands, rubbing across her nipples with calloused thumbs, and she groans.

“I need you…” Her hands go to his waist, working desperately at the closure of his trousers. “I need you, Poe, please—“

“I’m here,” He answers, voice roughened with need. “I’ve got you.”

She needs this, needs him to feel alive once more. Like air or water, like sunlight, like rain. He moves over her, stepping out of his boots and trousers and leaving them on the floor as they fall to the bed.

His hair falls over his brow, curling, wild, as he laves his tongue over her breasts, nipping the tender skin, making her writhe. She can tell he wants to go lower, wants to pleasure her, but she pulls him up, desperately. Poe scrapes his teeth over her collarbone, biting, then soothing the juncture of her neck and shoulder with his tongue.

It’s too much, almost overwhelming, feeling him everywhere, skin on skin. He smells of dust and oil, leather and metal and musk. She spreads her legs wider for him, urging him up and in, urging him to move, already, her heel at the back of his thigh.

Poe laughs, husky and soft, against her ear. She can feel him, one hand between her legs, finding her slick and eager and desperate, one hand flat on the bed as he moves above her.

It feels like it’s been so long since they’ve been together. Ages, centuries—the waiting and worry makes it worse. When he spreads her slick around she has to bite her lip to keep from begging for him. He needs this, needs to make sure she’s ready.

Then he shifts, a flush high on his cheeks, mouth soft and open. She doesn’t close her eyes as he enters her, just breathes, body shaking. Wincing as he stretches her, she watches the worry and desire play across his face.

“Is… tell me, are you—?“ Poe’s voice is raw, wrecked; his arms shake as he holds himself above her. He’s patient, so patient.

She can only nod, grasping at his arms, needy and craving him, all of him. And so he moves. Slowly at first, and then with growing urgency. He fills her perfectly, giving and taking, grinding down against her with each deep stroke until she’s shaking and whimpering. It’s good, so good. Out of nowhere the climax hits her. Rolling across her like a wave, all-consuming.

And then, just as she feels the coil of pleasure start to tighten again, he shifts them both, turning, bringing her atop him.

Now he’s deep within her, so deep. Hands broad on her hips, working her on his cock. His eyes never leave her face; it’s like he’s waiting for something, waiting for her. As she rocks against him she cries out, fluttering deep, milking him with her body.

It’s only then that his eyes close, reverent, overwhelmed by sensation. She falls atop him, feeling the scrape of his chest hair against her breasts, and surrenders. Poe grips her hips, planting his feet on the bed for leverage, and gives in to instinct. He’s like some wild creature, fucking up into her, something primal and sacred and glorious. And she welcomes it, body holding steady at the peak of her climax as he stills and finds his release within her. Sweat-slicked and sated, he holds her close as the aftershocks ripple through his body.

“I love you…” He pants.

She smiles against his skin, feeling her pulse rush in her ears as she comes down. Sore and spent, but overwhelmed by emotion, there’s no sense of urgency, no reason to let him slip out of her body just yet. His hands move to her back, dancing over her skin. When she clenches around him, just experimentally, his body arcs up, and he makes a noise that she knows she’s going to remember the next time he has to go.

After some time, she rolls to the side. He gets up from the bed, pressing a kiss to her temple as he goes to find a wet rag to clean them with. She spreads her legs, watches as he swipes the damp cloth between them, runs her fingers through his hair as he does so. The curls of his hair are wild now, exactly the way she likes them to be.

“How soon do you have to go?” She asks, when he’s set the cloth in the bin for cleaning and come back to cradle her in his arms.

“Orders haven’t been issued yet.”

“But they will be.” It isn’t a question.

His only answer is a gentle kiss on her neck.

When his hands wrap around her, pulling her in against the warm line of his body, she feels his hands come to rest on her waist. Now’s not the time to tell him, she thinks. But soon. Soon, he’ll be able to feel and know for himself. As she hears his breathing deepen and slow, she closes her eyes, and dreams of a dark-haired son.

Re: [FILL] Poe x Female Reader Smut

(Anonymous) 2015-12-29 09:32 am (UTC)(link)
OP here, thank you for this! Both of these are amazing and hot damn i love them :D

Re: [FILL] Poe x Female Reader Smut

(Anonymous) 2016-03-04 03:48 pm (UTC)(link)
OH GODDESSES!!!

I AM SO HERE FOR THIS!!!