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prompt post one

+ All comments except fills should be posted anonymously.
+ All prompts should focus on TFA characters. You can't post OT or PT-only prompts.
+ One prompt per comment please.
+ You can request both kink and non-kink content
+ Crossovers, characters from the other media are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 movie in some way.
+ All prompt comments should begin with a pairing tag (eg Rey/Finn) or Gen for no pairing.
+ Use 'Any' when prompting for any pairing at all (eg Kylo/Any or Any/Any)
+ Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Poe/Other)
+ Warn for common triggers, please
+ NO PROMPTS FEATURING CHARACTERS UNDER 18 IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS.
+ don't hijack other people's prompts.
+ prompts should not exceed ~250 words.
+ also, while this is not really a rule I can enforce, please try to limit yourselves to fewer than 5 prompts per page.
+ reposting prompts is currently not allowed.
+ no prompts based on real life tragic events. e.g: 9/11 au, concentration camp au, etc
+ PLAY NICE

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Poe dreams of the spice mines of Kessell, dark and ominous, spice glinting in dark and damp tunnels. They go on forever, dirt shifting colors under his LED flashlight, but there’s no other light. There’s no sky. There’s only the occasional faceless slave, colorless figures who stare at him with deep holes where eyes should be. They don’t speak, but they point, sometimes.

The sharp pain in his back snaps him awake -- he’s rolled on his shoulder in the night. He’s sweaty and his room is empty and there’s no one he has to save, nothing he has to do.

He rolls onto his stomach and tries to forget.

-

“Hey buddy!” Snap’s voice from his room’s intercomm wakes him up, jerking out of a shallow, dreamless sleep he’d only just managed to fall into.

“I’m asleep,” he yells anyway.

“No can do. We’re making you join us for breakfast, the most benign meal of the day.”

“I hate breakfast,” he tries, and he hears Snap laugh.

“Well, it’s technically more of a brunch at this point. So unless you want the cavalry showing up at your doorstep, you’d better come with me.”

“Fine.” Poe’s knows it’s ridiculous to be furious that his friends want to see him, want to spend time with him, are worried about him. But he is -- he’d rather they all pretend nothing happened.

He stares at himself darkly in the small mirror in the ‘fresher. He just needed time, is all, and they couldn’t give it to him. The war didn’t stop just because he fucked up. He presses a bruise at his hip unthinkingly when he gets dressed.

Poe practices an easy smile before heading out the door. It looks alright -- the cuts on his face are almost done healing, but the deep circles under his eyes are still there.

“Hey, buddy!” Snap says, grinning so wide Poe responds in kind on instinct. It barely feels forced.

He manages to duck just in time to avoid Snap’s slap on the back, and Snap stumbles forward with the extra momentum.

“Whoa, hey, sorry man,” Poe says from behind him. “My...I got a big bacta patch on my shoulder.”

“Oh, shit. I should have asked how you were healing.” Snap looks worried. “How bad did you get beat up, anyway? You looked like bantha fodder when we picked you up.”

“Thanks, Snap, I appreciate your concern.”

“You look less like shit now?” he says, and then laughs. Poe tries laughing along, and it doesn’t feel too terrible, either.

“But seriously, the other pilots think you don’t like them anymore, and you like everyone, so it’s been grim.”

“I’ve been ordered by the General to ‘take it easy,’” Poe says, adding airquotes. “And by the good doctor to keep away from any alcohol.”

“Yeah, that really sounds like you, taking all that seriously.”

They turn the corner to the pilots’ lounge -- it was one of the bigger conference rooms they took over for general drinking and revelry when they didn’t want to deal with the mess hall or anyone that felt more comfortable on the ground.

“Hey,” he says as he steps in. There’s a table covered in food and drink, most likely black market, and a bowl of punch letting off a soft, gentle looking fog. Jessika has insisted on many occasions that it’s the best kind of alcohol to drink before noon..

“Guy’s injured!” Snap yells from behind him in the doorway. “Careful hugs only!”

Karé frowns so deeply it shakes a laugh out of Poe, and he walks over and gives her a tentative hug from the side.

“We’re just glad to see you back,” she says, smiling. “It was a scary couple of days.”

Nien Numb shakes his hand, and there’s some more hand shaking as other members of the Starfighter Corps come up and say hi. He’s honestly touched, even though he feels more and more anxious the more people he realizes are in the room.

He settles down next to Jessika, who hands him a bottle of sparkling shuura juice and a cup.

“It’s unfermented,” she says, eating a crumblebun and drinking the foggy punch. It’s a nice purple color and he feels sorely tempted.

“You guys shouldn’t have.” He smiles and nabs a pastry off her plate, but he means it sincerely.

“Yeah, you really don’t deserve all the attention,” she says, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, not only are you our Commander, you throw parties for people after they get over Findris Flu. Of course Blue and Red squad are going all out for you.”

“Plus, you won’t tell us your birthday,” Iolo says, sitting down next to them. She was also drinking the punch, but deposited a plate piled high with cakes and fruits in front of Poe.

“That’s because you all know too much about me already,” he says, smiling.

“Yeah, well, these walls are thin, and after that one base with communal showers, I think we all know too much about each other.” Jessika makes one of the junior pilots get her and Karé more punch, “And grab your Commander some fruit.”

“Testor, you’re not suppose to treat them like serving droids.”

She gives him a side glance. “Do you want one for the week? Right now they’re on X-Wing maintenance duty, but we’ve got enough recruits to spare you one.”

“How long are you going to be hazing them?” Poe can’t say he’s not grateful to have food brought straight to him instead of having to move, but he feels a little bad. Most of his hazing had been with the Republic airfleet, and involved making a drunken ass of himself more than it did doing choose for superior officers. There were fewer bars to go to when they were in hiding, however.

“Let me have my fun!” she said, offended. “It’s not like there’s a lot else to do here.”

He relaxes as time goes on, chatting with his pilots, catching up with them and feeling generally appreciated in a way that feels soothing. It’s normal, like coming home from a hard mission, like nothing too drastic had happened a few days ago.

“So what did happen on that slaver ship?” Snap asks him, pulling up a seat. The conversations around the room continue, and no one looks at them, but Poe’s heart speeds up and his chest feels tight.
“You were out for a while,” Iolo says, cautiously like she’s testing the waters.

“Nothing particularly exciting.” Poe shoves a pastry in his mouth and ignores the way Snap frowns, the way he and Jessika exchange worried glances.

“Dr. Kalonia is dealing with it. My shoulder got injured.”

“I’m guessing,” Snap says, because he’s another X-Wing pilot who doesn’t know when to stop pushing his luck, “that you shot your mouth off, huh?”

Poe tries very hard to pretend like he didn’t just choke on a cookie.

“Uh. I didn’t do myself any favors,” he chokes out.

“You should take care of yourself better,” Karé says, and she brushes fingers over his bruised face. Poe jerks back and spills juice on the floor, and there’s a long awkward pause.

Jessika snaps her fingers. “Airmen! Napkins!”

She elbows him in his sore ribs while the younger pilots clean up. “It’ll get better,” she says.

He hopes so.

-

Poe goes to the hanger bay after eating to see BB-8 and run some diagnostics before one of the junior airmen has a chance to touch Black One. BB-8 perks up the second he walks through the door and zooms over, figure eighting around his legs and beeping excitedly.

There’s quite a bit of droid gossip to get through as he carefully gets up the on the frame next to his ship. He can’t lay on his back, but he can run some wires between his console and BB, and to do that he has to get into the ship.

“I can’t believe Threepio said that to you!” he says, sliding into the cockpit as carefully as he can. The anxiety he’s been carrying like a cloak melts away for a blissful moment, and then he leans too far back and hits his brand on the seat.

BB-8 trills worriedly when he starts swearing, suddenly very interested in what the hell happened on his mission, anyway, people were very worried, did he know?

“Yeah, people have been pretty open about that,” he mutters, hooking a few wires up.

BB bleeps, annoyed that they hadn’t been summoned to the medbay.

“I got hurt, okay? We got picked up by pirates and they were horrible hosts.”

He feels like he’s being given baleful looks by his own astromech. “C’mon, start running diagnostics buddy.”

It whoops a little at him and he sighs.

“A branding iron. It was a droid.”

There’s a pause, and then BB whistles lowly, mournfully.

“I’ll be fine.” Poe says, wondering if he’s lying to his navigator now, too. “Tell me more about hanging out with R2-D2.”

Halfway through the diagnostic and a story about Artoo, he sees Finn and Rey coming through the hanger bay.

“Hey! We were looking for you earlier!” Finn waves at him, a picnic basket in hand.

“I had a pilots’...thing, earlier.” Poe isn’t sure what to say -- how much time did Finn want with him when he was like this? He can’t imagine Rey is having a great time watching him mope.

“We’re going out to watch the suns set,” she adds, “if you want to join.”

BB-8 trills at him.

“I’m apparently to attend a command center meeting,” Poe says, mainly for Finn’s benefit. “News to me too. Sorry!”

Finn frowns.

“I’ll catch up with you two tomorrow,” he says, even though he feels wistful just looking at their entwined hands.

“Sure thing!”

-

“General,” he says politely as he steps into the command center.

He’s early, so she takes a minute to clap him on the arm. “It’s good to have you back, Commander,” she says, smiling.

“It’s good to be back here,” he says, looking around the command center. The honesty is a relief -- he feels infinitely more comfortable now.

“You’re still technically off-duty, so you’re not allowed to volunteer for anything today,” General Organa says, eyebrow raised.

“Yessir,” he says, even though just sitting in his X-Wing made him long to be out flying.

“I’m serious,” she adds.

There’s not much to volunteer for, anyway -- since his recon mission was a bust, they needed a different way to reach the Outer Rim factories that were producing First Order supplies.

“I’m not sending more pilots into hostile space routes unless there’s no other choice to be had.”

Poe appreciates it even though he doesn’t appreciate Nien Numb looking at him pityingly throughout the meeting.

At the end of the session, the General motions him to the side.

“Let’s catch up,” she says, and he could never ever refuse her.

Poe follows her back to her office, the front room to her perpetually sealed private quarters.

She pulls a big crystalline bottle from under her desk, along with two sharp cut glasses, and raises her eyebrows.

“Real Correlian bourbon,” she says. “It’s a good vintage.”

“I’m not allowed to drink,” Poe says, eyeing it. He’s never had any liquor that nice looking, he’s fairly certain.

She shrugs, and pours herself a few fingers anyway. “Doesn’t mean I can’t celebrate the return of my best squadron leader, and best pilot.”

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn down something from your private stock,” he says.

The General gives him a wry grin, but pours him a considerable portion.

They sip in silence for a bit, and Poe settles down on a battered couch by her desk.

“So, Commander Dameron, let’s get down to it. Will you be flight-ready in the next few days?”

He slams back the rest of his bourbon, focusing on the burn and now how his bandages itch or his nerves.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I won’t be able to give you a good sit-rep until after i’ve gone up once or twice.”

“How’s your injury?” She’s ever the tactful politician, and she pours him some more bourbon.

“It’s...it’s healing fine.” He sips this glass, letting the heat travel slow down his throat.

“So what’s the problem?”

Poe sets his glass down and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Her face softens all at once. She goes from the General to Leia, Ms. Organa, his mother’s friend and a veritable aunty of his youth. They’s a dull spark in his chest that says he doesn’t need to be coddled, but the rest of him leans towards her anyway.

He wants to be coddled

“I didn’t read the entire medical report,” she says very seriously. “I’ll only know what you want to tell me.”

She finishes off her glass, so he does the same and lets her refill. In for a credit, he thinks.

“Slavers like that, they traffic in all kinds of goods. Spice mine workers are one thing, “ he says, “but that’s not what they saw when they looked at me.

“I tried to make a deal, me for Finn obviously. But it turns out the bounty was high enough they didn’t want to touch him.

“They made him watch...just the...the you know.” He gestures loosely at his shoulder. “Not the rest.”

Leia’s expression is soft, still, but she doesn’t look horrified, or pitying. But Poe already regrets giving her one more thing to concern herself with.

He bites his lip. “Sorry, you don’t. You don’t need to deal with my shit,” he says, tongue too loose now. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t bring you here to apologize to me, Dameron,” she says and he feels even more lost

“You have enough to worry about.”

She finally comes out from behind the desk and settles into the armchair across from him, crossing her legs and leaning forward. Her eyes are dark and understanding and he wants to look away.

“Commander, your emotional well-being is my responsibility.”

“It’s not,” he says, finally breaking eye contact.

The General touches his knee, drawing his attention back to her. “You’ve been captured, and tortured, twice. It’s an understatement It’s been a tough year for you, I’d say, and I take a lot of responsibility for that.”

“It’s not your fault -- none of this has been your fault.”

“It certainly isn’t yours, Commander,” she says, and something in his chest snaps. He sags in the couch, careful with his back.

“I...I’m so angry, sir,” he says, quiet. “Not at you.”

“You could be,” she says. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

He sips at his drink. “I couldn’t be.”

“Don’t take it out on your friends.”

“I haven’t,” he says. “I’ve wanted to.”

She leans back and studies him. “I’d be more concerned if you seemed fine.”

His cheeks feel flush by the time he finishes his drink, and he sets the glass down. “I should be fine. I volunteered.” He spits out the word.

Her face changes then, an expression he remembers from visits in his childhood, looking at skinned knees or bruised elbows. Maybe deeper than that, settled into the lines around her eyes.

Poe isn’t going to cry, but he almost does when he pats his knee again and says, “Oh, kiddo, don’t torture yourself like that.”

“I did. I volunteered and this is what I got for it, it was a stupid and impulsive move, I wasn’t even trying to be strategic.”

“It worked.”

He’d snarl if he wasn’t so tired. “It...if it did I should feel better. I should feel fine.”

“You did what you could to save your fellow soldier. That’s commendable, Commander.”

“Then why am I so angry, so disgusted?”

She grabs his hand. “Because the right choice can still break you apart.”

He squeezes. He’s not going to cry.

“When do you need me to fly?” he finally asks, because he knows why he’s here.

“Four days from now.”

“Get the doctor to clear me for planet-side testing, and I’ll be ready.”

The General drops his hand. He studies her as she sips her liquor -- she has a lifetime of hard decisions etched into her, from the sadness in her eyes to the lines around them. He wonders what her worst choice was, her hardest.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” she says. “You’re a good man.”

“i don’t feel like one,” he says, too honest still, desperate for her to say it’s okay again.

“You deserve better than what this war has given you. All of you kids do.”

Poe bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying, “You too.” Instead, he says, “Everyone deserves better than the First Order. That’s why I’m here.”

She smiles at him, still sad. “Thank you for talking to me tonight, Commander.”

He recognizes a dismissal when he gets one, even when he can feel the alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Goodnight, General,” he says as he leaves, and she waves him out the door.

---

thanks everyone for their lovely comments! I really appreciate them <3
sorry there's not a lot of action in these parts; Poe is essentially eating and moping his way through his time off. and sorry it took a while to post. I'll be out of town this weekend but I'm still working on this (no promises but if there's anything your heart really desires to see in this fic, let me know).

thank you! I'll be posting it up on AO3 once I'm done with it, for sure.

Great characterization and very hot

OP here

Yes yes! Either of them would be good, the choice is yours!

Fiiinnnnn, he is so good, so pure. And I love that even tho Kylo's a good guy here, he's still a bit weird and off.

and I'm glad you didn't go too far with the embarrassment of Kylo being a virgin.

This anon simply wants more of these two interacting. Other characters welcome, but would prefer any romance to be way off to the side.

Han is Kylo's dad, Rey's father figure, prob Poe's pilot hero. Finn can't be left out.

Outstanding. Great job!

The baddies' names actually are Smoke, Hex, Plasma, and Kyle Ran. Cue the Resistance crew teasing them mercilessly behind their backs. Maybe their First Order underlings, too, if they dare.

a very dommy force sensitive is getting head from their partner when they use a mind trick to force them to come. or any other scenario really. just. coming on command.

i need this

PLS

I NEED THIS

Fuck yes. Can see him fight to keep it together and then snap all at once.

Kylo/Hux is unf but we need more Kylo/Poe that is pure smut, no baggage.

So. Cute. But also a little ouch b/c Han and Leia.

Grinning while reading so yes please anyone

seconded!

Really interested in reading this b/c of the situation and morality issue and parallel dynamic and oh yeah eventual smut factor

seconded!

Back on Jakku, it's Rey's first time and her partner isn't human.

+The more alien the better - tentacles, heats, alien dicks, size difference, etc.

++If the partner's fucked humans before and knows how to give Rey a really good time.

Dubcon or noncon are fine as long as Rey gets off :o

Ummmmmm yes please. gun kink = my guilty pleasure.

Awww, Finn. I'd love to read this too, possible author anon! ;)

Wait, so both Kylo doesn't safeword out when he should and Hux ignores it when he finally does? Sounds kinda dub-con to me.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 181 of 252

PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

This post is closed to new prompts!

Re: FILL: Re: Poe/Finn Branding 10/?

Re: FILL: Re: Poe/Finn Branding 11/?

Re: FILL: Re: Poe/Finn Branding 08/?

Re: FILL: Poe/Rey.Doggy style

Re: Finn/Poe, Urban fantasy AU

Re: FILL: Kylo/[Finn]: expectations vs reality [3/4]

Han + Finn friendship

Re: FILL: trembling manhood -- Hux/Luke, crush

crack - typo autocorrect names

Re: Reylo or kylux or gen with kylo ; eating disorder recovery

Any/Any - coming on command

Re: Dark!Poe/Kylo (non-con)

Re: kylux, mpreg

Re: General hux/ren, crossdressing as padme

Re: Kylo/Other - Edging

Re: Gen - Children's Games

Re: Hux/Ben, AU, Hux screws with his Resistance interrogator (and maybe just screws him)

Re: Poe/dark!Luke (dub-con)

Re: Gen or Finn/Poe, Finn accidentally uses a Jedi mind trick on Poe

Re: Poe/Hux – tw torture, non-con

Re: Hux/Finn - power, tw: boss abusing of power

Rey/Other, xenophilia

Re: Any/Any gun/blaster!kink

Re: Poe/Finn Sexuality Crisis

Re: Hux/Kylo Ren - Kylo dislikes safewords and frequently pushes himself more than he should