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marinersubmariner · 3 months

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I finished Jedi Survivor, gotta blab about it!

SPOILER SPACE

BODE?!??!??!? I kept thinking he was gonna die, especially in the lead-up to the final Dagan fight—they gave him so many hallmarks of a tragic death that I never suspected a classic video game companion betrayal (one of my favorite things!!!)! So that twist threw me for a LOOP, not just the betrayal but then the reveal that HE WAS A JEDI TOO WHAAAATTTTTT!!??!?!?! Absolutely bananas.

It's funny because Dagan's death felt pretty anticlimactic, and I knew the game wasn't over yet so I was like… what else is there? And I still couldn't have anticipated how OH SHIT the "what else" part could be.

Because then it's PLAYABLE CERE!!!! Which was so fun because she felt SO powerful to play as, and the whole time I was reeling about the betrayal and why am I Cere now what the fuck what the fuck what the fuccckkkkk. And then as soon as the door opened on Vader I instantly got teary-eyed because I knew exactly how that was gonna end. Of COURSE you're out-of-left-field playing as Cere for her last stand. ;___; Of COURSE they couldn't include Vader just for the player to narrowly escape again. ;___; Cere wasn't even my favorite character and she felt so distant in this game, but having her death take place amidst the destruction of the archive that she'd been building that whole time, plus HER LAST WORD BEING "TRILLA," plus BEING MURDERED BY VADER EXACTLY LIKE TRILLA... way to make it as painful as it could possibly be!!!!!! I gotta say, not only do these games make Vader VERY scary, they also make me hate him more than ever. FUCK YOOOOUUU MURDER MACHINE

I am shocked they went all-in on Cal/Merrin just because… romance in Star Wars????? Since when??? Hahahahaaaa…….. I kid, I kid, we have fun. I love them. Although my main inclination in the first game was Cal/Trilla (it was immediately after TROS and the extreme Reylo of it got to me!!) and somewhere along the way I had gotten the impression that Merrin was a lesbian (or maybe that's just the default Nightsister vibe). But truly I consider everyone in SW to be bi/pan/ace/anything but fully straight, so honestly, whatever. Related side note: I was really pleasantly surprised by the directness about how many supporting characters here were gay!

I LOVED the first kiss followed by the totally bonkers portal-jumping battle, that was such cool teamwork. And the end of the game was sooooo saaaad but thankfully they both lived and so now I'm real emo about the orphan Jedi and the orphan witch and how far they've come since she tried to kill him. 😭

Backtracking a bit I REALLY enjoyed Dagan getting dumped out of the bacta tank, getting pissed off, and IMMEDIATELY bleeding his crystal. It was very ooooohhh SHIT dude making some major life decisions here!! So cool! So dramatic! Escalated so quickly! I'm pleased that I did end up enjoying Dagan a decent amount, because going into this I was annoyed by a) not liking Cody Fern's face and b) not liking the High Republic aesthetic.

Honestly I was very ready to dislike both Dagan and Bode because I was really not happy with the previews showing they added a bunch of dudes while hiding Merrin and Cere, and Trilla being dead…… blugh. But thankfully trailers are misleading and there was plenty of Merrin. (and her surprise entrance was THRILLLINNGGGG) And the dudes were alright and they wound up dead anyway. So! …Hm.

IT WAS SO SAD. I'M SO SAD. The "Ghost Star" lullaby was so pretty and haunting and it messed me up BAD, because of course I'm not just thinking of this game I'm thinking of all my dead Star Wars friends (and obvs one ghost in particular…….. sob). There are so many. Star Wars is littered with corpses. AND IT'S SO SAD.

Cal using the dark side was craazzzyyyyyy and when the first prompt for it came on screen I was like "uh oh!!!! I don't wanna." Wild how becoming more powerful in a video game can be so fun and so upsetting at the same time. I did actually die in the final fight with Bode because I refused to tap into the dark side when prompted, lol. I was like "maybe if I don't do it something different will happen!" Haha, nope! USE THE DARK SIDE OR DIE. Which is an interesting moral quandary for Star Wars, because if the dark side is always more powerful 100% of the time, and there are certain situations where it's either fight a dark side opponent or die… what does the Force really want you to do? Stick to the light side and be defeated? Is the ultimate end goal of the Force for everything to die and become one with it? AH JEEZ

Part of me expected Tanalorr to not work out in the end, because "magical top secret planet where we can hide and be safe forever" is obviously too good to be true. But I also think every pre-OT story is always having to find an out for why these characters weren't around for the OT, so in that sense of course Tanalorr had to work out! It's the perfect loophole for this time period! It just felt like every story beat was pointing to the dream of Tanalorr being too much of a corrupting influence—Dagan lost his arm, Santari, and then his life because he refused to let go, and then Bode did the same, and I thought it would come down to Cal also facing that dark path and being forced to give up the dream, like by having to choose between Merrin and Tanalorr. In Grail quests you always have to give up the Grail! But no, now they're really gonna live in the ethereal weird forbidden promised land. FEELS CREEPY BUT OKAY

On the one hand I do kind of wish there had been more planets to explore—it felt strange for the journey to be less expansive than Fallen Order. But there was still so much to do on Koboh and they had some cool locations in there nonetheless. I'm just greedy for ~*~galactic exploration~*~! Anyway they made up for it with the strong story, because I think the plot and character work in this one were even better than Fallen Order.

I'm not sure how to piece it all together but I liked the small late-game talk of Vader and the Inquisitorius acting outside of regular Imperial command, when you're undercover and you get the scoop that there's a rivalry with the ISB and that the Jedha attack that happened was not the Jedha attack that was planned. Empire/Sith infighting, Vader vs. Tarkin and Krennic, how does stifled ISB employee Dedra Meero fit into all this, hm hm hm much to think about. Bode was a former Jedi being used by the Empire but he wasn't an Inquisitor—it was the same thing in the end but the particular type of tragedy was different. Wizards in the Empire but the Empire hates wizards, which type of leash are they gonna put you on and who's actually holding the leash?

Fav saloon regulars: TURGLE, of course I knew everybody loved Turgle, what a goober, A+, amazing frog; Caij, because apparently it's a biological imperative that all Nautolans are cool as hell; best bartender Monk; and I particularly enjoyed all the conversations with Tulakt and Moran.

Of course I was thrilled when I first encountered Skoova, his little hover fishing schooner was the BEST. Just an absolutely stellar amount of funky alien dudes in this game.

The powerful heavy swings that the crossguard stance uses…… hehehehehehehehehe. Where did they get that idea I wonder!!!!!! The only thing is that I don't like how small and thin the High Republic-style quillons are, so the aesthetic isn't as satisfying and proportional as Kylo's saber. You gotta beef up those crossguards fellas!

I didn't know that there was an interim story to explain why Greez has a prosthetic arm now, so I was like "did I really forget THAT MUCH of Fallen Order?" Even I can't keep up with all these Star Wars! I liked Greez a lot in the first game (MY PLANT GUY!!!!) but I really loved him even more in this one—he seemed much softer than I remember with his devotion to Cal and their whole family unit. And his braided hair of course delighted me.

And speaking of delightful new hair: Merrin's haircut! I LOVE HER SO MUCH. They gave her so much great deadpan humor while also enhancing her emotional maturity, so not only is she still super cool she's also soft and nice when it's called for, and I'M SO GLAD SHE DIDN'T DIE.

Kata is extremely cute and I'm already dreading her looming apprenticeship and the long-term outcome of who makes it to the next generation. I'm always having to remind myself of the bigger picture that Cal is older than Luke. And I certainly can't handle the thought of old Cal or dead Cal, but when you add kids into the mix, that's where this is headed!!!!!!

I took so many goddamn screencaps I'm probably only gonna post a minuscule fraction of them, but there were so many good aesthetic things and fun details to look at. And honestly part of my excessive snapping away involved lofty notions of using things as fanart reference. I LOVED all the new hair and wardrobe options because I absolutely just used Cal for Ben Solo AU cosplay. 🤪😎🤩✌️💀 The windswept hair is so good!!!! I mean I mainly chose it to look like Ben but it also just looked really good on Cal, to the point where it's hard to see him with short hair anymore, although I really should try out some of the goofier looks. (so many facial hair options that I hate and look stupid on precious ginger babyface!!!)

I just get soooooo excited about being able to explore and take pictures inside a Star Wars thing, and play dress-up and pick hairstyles and decorate and do all that silly life sim stuff but in space! Games capture such a unique experience of discovering worldbuilding minutiae, and I love having the ability to just look at things and take in the environment at your own pace, it makes me so happy. Even the goofy LEGO game gave me that feeling. It's just so nice! I love wandering! Observing! Interacting! Running my little guys around! Having my own experience that can't be easily ruined by a shitty story!

It's made me reminisce about playable Kylo and Rey in Battlefront and how I wish you could combine them with the exploration/story/gameplay style of the Jedi games and the [nearest approximation of] post-canon Ben Solo of the LEGO game, and THAT would probably be my ideal Star War (outside of, you know, a new movie that checks off every single item on my impossible wish list hahahaaagdhagdsf). Dress them up and customize their lightsabers and their home base and their spaceship and give them a droid friend and a garden and take them on new adventures on new planets… The Dream 😭

I actually started ruminating on whether I can do screencap mashups of Battlefront character models in Survivor outfits/environments, because I can't do mods, I am just a simple photoshopper and console gamer, but I want to pretend!!!!!! The problem is I don’t really like the Battlefront faces because they all look dead in the eyes. :/ The idea I settled on is that I might do some straight-up redraws instead. (WE'LL SEE. But the fact that I'm even mentioning this should tell you how completely lost in the sauce I am.) I briefly went looking and of course people have made Ben Solo mods for Survivor, but what you really gotta do is graft Cal's customization options onto Bode's body type or else it doesn't look right. Y'KNOW?!?? Size… matters……… I'm so sorry Yoda

Anyway!!!!!! Excellent gaming experience despite being terrible at Jedi parkour! Now back to tending my garden, hunting down post-game Force echoes, and rearranging Cal's wardrobe

#star wars #jedi survivor #sw meta #time once again for another round of star wars word vomit #will i find a way to make it about benjamin organa solo? you bet!!#coincidentally posting this while the reylos are melting down on twitter 🙃 every day i am in pain

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magpie-trove · 1 year

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Realizing Star Wars is 10/10 fall in love then die so far

#every single romance? like. so consistently!#Anakin Padme check Han Leia after awhile check Rey and Ben check #Hera Kanan check even like tech phee check #fall in love and sign your death warrant I guess?#lots of single parents #the only ones that have a romance and survive…Owen and Beru and uhh Jar Jar and his girlfriend?#bail and breha organa are married but both die #ObiWan Satine yeah no #Cassian Jyn went two for two #I’ve seen a lot of people saying Din and Bo Katan and hahaha look at this track record u better hope not #unless the key to pleasure world makes them immune #it IS ruled by a married couple who are successfully alive and in love so maybe #but I thought it’d be that way with Rey and Ben (correcting the Doom of Romance) but it Did Not so I’m not too hopeful just avoid it if you #want to be safe #or if you break up you’ll be ok too ie Ahsoka and Lux and Han and Qira

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ikebanaka · 1 year

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Okay so we know Anakin’s opinion on sand, and we know that being a Skywalker generally correlates to insane piloting skills, especially in space

How do Skywalkers feel about steering boats in the middle of the ocean?

#anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #leia organa #star wars #boats #now i personally think being on a ship in space is superior in every way to being in open ocean on a boat #but the skywalkers are all freaks who might enjoy a vast unpredictable expanse that is utterly indifferent to your existence #and could easily kill you #and is populated by both microscopic and huge creatures that you’ll never see

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fanfic-obsessed · 8 months

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Knowing

I have just had the worst, or best, brainwave and I need to share it.

Here is an AU for you.

Vader thinks that he killed his wife and child, right?

Right up until he meets little Leia Organa when she is 10 years old. Like his one brain cell woke the fuck up when he was confronted with a passionate, angry little girl with Padme’s eyes and his chin. This is maybe a month after she was kidnapped and returned to Alderaan. Leia decides that she would need to learn how to be a senator and insists that Bail takes her with him to the next session of the imperial senate.

Bail does not want to bring her to the imperial senate. However he knows very well who her birth parents were, it is either Bail brings Leia to the Imperial Senate or Leia brings Leia to the Imperial Senate, probably bringing with her someone she really shouldn’t (Like actual Obi Wan Kenobi-I just want you to picture for a moment, because Bail certainly did, looking up and realizing that Leia is charging down the halls outside his office, dragging with her a bemused and sandy Obi Wan, both in badly conceived disguises).

Bail is super stressed as he tries to run a rebellion while riding herd on his well meaning but very direct 10 year old daughter on top of his normal duties as an imperial senator. Bail is also very afraid that the moment the Emperor sees Leia, he will make the connection between Leia and Padme Amidala (The emperor does not socialize with the senate any longer, thank the stars). He has no idea that Vader was once Anakin Skywalker, so has no cause to be more careful than normal (because Vader) about Vader seeing Leia. As such Bail does not even notice when Vader stops to consider them from the shadows. Leia is haranguing another planet’s senatorial aide who had chosen the wrong moment to make a bigoted joke.

Vader is very abruptly, though mentally, thrown back to this very hallway 12 years earlier where he watched his wife do the same thing, for the same reason, possibly to this same aide. Though Leia is still a child and Padme was an adult, he can still see his wife in this little girl.

The realization that this is Padme’s child hits him with the force of a Ventanor. Followed immediately, before he even realized that this meant that his child was standing in front of him, by the soul deep knowledge that she must be protected from the Emperor at all costs.

Vader had known for years that his suit had been designed to cause him more pain, he just thought he deserved it. The thought of Palpatine getting ahold of Padme’s daughter was abhorrent. Vader sticks to the shadows and watches, seeing how well Bail loved and protected Leia.

While he is thinking(read Obsessing) about his daughter, the part of him that is always centered on Obi Wan points out that his old master had been one of the last people to see Padme after Vader choked her. But the little voice that spoke in Padme’s tones piped up, the shock of Leia living being enough to finally make this little voice loud enough to be heard, saying that until recently Obi Wan believed that Anakin Skywalker was all the way dead, he was protecting their child as best as he knew how.

And Vader has issues with just about every choice Obi Wan Kenobi ever made. But he will admit that hiding Padme’s daughter was the best option.

As Vader knows that paying too much attention to Leia would draw the Emperor’s attention, he would be willing to wait until the right moment to get his daughter back. His one concession to his need to protect her was taking one of his personal guard, one of the few units still made up almost entirely of clones, and assigning them to be Leia Organa’s bodyguard, her shadow (I also want you to take a moment to consider what that did for Bail’s stress level). And then Vader gets to planning.

With his one brain cell awake and focused on the Organa’s it takes Vader all of 15 minutes to realize that Bail Organa is running the Rebellion (I want it to be clear, this is not a slight on Bail at all, Anakin Skywalker was a war general, well educated through the Jedi on a number of subjects, and does have a fair measure of politics learning from both his former master and his dead wife). However Vader is no more loyal to the Empire than Anakin was to the Republic. In fact, upon realizing that Padme’s daughter had lived Vader firmly decided that he needed to find a way to kill Palpatine to crown Leia. With the realization that Bail, and likely Leia (neither Vader nor Anakin have any idea what activities are appropriate for a 10 year old), are part of the Rebellion, Vader decides that The Rebellion would succeed (or everyone would die trying).

Note: Vader only really gets away with no one realizing that he now supported the Rebellion because, well, no one can quite believe that Darth Vader supports the Rebellion. Most people think there is a new type of Space Madness, and that one of the symptoms is hallucinating Darth Vader giving you intel for the Rebellion.

By the time Leia was a teenager, rumors abound about the odd way that Vader acted around her. By sheer happenstance (and some judicial violence on Vader’s part) these rumors had never reached the Emperor. A good deal of these rumors implied that Vader was looking to the Princess of Alderaan as a wife. The reaction Vader had, the only time it was brought up in front of him, was…impressive, even for the amount of violence he normally dealt out. Still there are members of Vader’s personal guard who watch over Leia whenever she is on Imperial Center, and no one wants to repeat the time when she was 12 when one of Bail enemies tried to kidnap her for ransom. It took an entire corps of engineers to put those levels back to rights (after they scrubbed the blood off).

So we get all the way up to the timeframe of ANH. The Death Star in this does not start out under the control of Darth Vader. It starts out under the control of Tarkin, it is important to note this. Leia still sends out R2D2 and C3P0 to find Obi Wan Kenobi, none of that part changes.

It is after Leia is captured that Darth Vader shows up (does he lurk silently in any system that Leia is due to be in as often as he can get away with…why yes, yes he does). Tarkin had wanted Leia tortured, however no one wanted to find out how many decks Vader would spread their entrails across for touching her. Vader arrives on the bridge just as Tarkin is threatening to blow up Alderaan. Tarkin orders the weapon to begin its charge.

Leia, Leia who is so like her mother in that she will use every weapon in her arsenal, turns to Darth Vader and speaks to him for the first time. ‘Please’ she said, no effort to hide her distress, ‘please save my planet’

Something Leia had no cause to know-An angel who she resembled once thanked Anakin Skywalker for saving her planet.

Tarkin is dead almost before she finishes speaking. Vader orders the DS weapons to power down and disengage, which is done post haste. Then announces that Leia Organa was now in control.

So Leia now owns a Death Star (genuine article-never used). Leia is not sure if that is how this works, but no one is arguing with the tall man in black who has OPINIONS and will enforce them. Leia manages to communicate this to her parents, who take a shuttle up to the space station to figure out what the fuck is going on, and what, if anything, they need to do next.

Two hours later: Obi Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, R2D2, C3P0, and Chewbacca have just been caught trying to sneak onto the Death Star. The Organas are still on board, trying to get answers (In that time Vader has said precisely five words to them ‘You have raised her well’). It is to this room that the troopers manning the station (who are deeply confused and a bit conflicted because it seems like they may have all been forcibly defected from the Empire, but no one is willing to disobey Lord Vader) bring Obi Wan and co. and present them to Leia, as she is considered in command. Somehow Luke’s full name (I kind of picture him still dumbly introducing himself to Leia, followed with ‘we’re here to rescue you’) gets used before the situation deteriorates. Which naturally causes everything to deteriorate further and faster than before.

Far away on Imperial Center, the Emperor pauses in the middle of a hallway ‘I feel’ he says to no one ‘a disturbance in the Force.’ another pause ‘like some shit has just hit the fan’

Far away on Dagobah Yoda looks up, ‘weird, shit just got’

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars au #sheev palpatine #fanfiction prompt #anidala #leia organa #luke skywalker #bail organa #darth vader

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frostbitebakery · 10 days

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LOUD.

a Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan AU

Introspection fucking sucks, according to Commander Fox.

The thing about him is, he’s been made out to be a bastard and ever since their batch found their calling or whatever he’s embraced that role.

Every batch needed someone who didn’t secretly want to be cuddled, who pushed others away so he could keep track of the big picture.

Cody had competed for the role for a while. As did Wolffe.

For Cody, his heart, big and fragile once you got to know him, got in the way in the end. He sees the whole picture, craves it so he won’t go crazy from the losses. But he believes in people and their goodness.

Fox doesn’t.

Wolffe made the mistake of getting the galaxy’s best General. General Koon shits rainbows and glitter, from what Fox has been forced to listen to.

Fox has… the Chancellor.

He takes a swig of water and wishes it were something stronger. But Quin is on the other side of Fox’s desk, reading glasses ever so slowly slipping down his nose while he’s crunching and tracking the numbers to prove the Chancellor is, indeed, siphoning credits off the Republic to giftwrap them for the Seppies.

He takes another swig.

Wouldn’t surprise him if Palpatine turned out to be the villain of the whole story.

Brought Fox to drink with the kind attitude, the cruelty so expertly hidden from first glance, cushioned in false promises and support.

Hadn’t been pretty. But it had been easy. You go to the right places, people are only too willing to shell out for some drinks. Entertainment and morbid curiosity what brings a clone to their knees.

Some found the lisp he has because of the scar that ransacks through his lips and tongue endearing but most hadn’t bothered with wanting him talking.

Some wanted to inspect the changes in the Corrie armor up close and cozy.

If shit hadn’t already multiplied, Organa came flouncing into the Guard offices every two weeks with a new design like they were his little dress-up dolls.

The last design, the one that stayed, had a dummy connector installed in the backplate.

Fox hadn’t mentioned it. Had stewed over how the Guard, already isolated from the rest of the GAR, wasn’t even considered for the neural network that would make them more efficient, more deadly if activated. Treated like scum on a pedestal, overlooked and taken for granted.

Fox takes every advantage he can squeeze from that.

Every batch needs a willing loner who’s got the big picture in his head at all times and doesn’t care for the minutiae.

Fox had been comfortable in that role, really. He saw Thorn and Stone and Thire and the rest of them making friends and lovers and heartbreak, and that was the last fucking thing Fox wanted.

And then came Vos. Appearing from the shadows like a designer nightmare.

For such a short time they’ve sure gone through a lot together.

To the point Vos became Quinlan became Quin became Vos again became someone Fox clung to while fighting fucking addiction and the realization that he is stupid enough to become addicted.

No matter what Quin had said, Fox was supposed to be the pinnacle of cloning and artificially creating the perfect soldier. Addiction is a weakness and fault.

Fox almost did something extremely stupid over that one.

Turns out it’s all part of the sentient experience.

Fucking sucks.

Quin had laughed at that, ugly and bruised laughter, continuing to comb his fingers over Fox’s head. “Tell me about it.”

An eloquent way to say Quin was going through withdrawal himself.

They got outside help after that.

“Hey, Depa,” Quin murmurs absently after answering his comm, pushes his glasses up.

“Quinlan, is your line still secure?”

“‘Course. Especially after Fox got his grubby little hands all over it.”

Fox shows him the middle finger of one of his grubby little hands.

“Good,” General Billaba clips out. Quin straightens up, and maybe Fox’s attention isn’t misplaced here. “Good. Commander Cody was activated by the Sith Lord and he’s bringing Obi-Wan to Coruscant.”

Activated.

Quin is silent. Blinks up at the ceiling. “Can you run that by me again?”

“Quinlan, we have reason to be believe the Chancellor is the Sith Lord.”

Hah. Fox got that one right on his bingo card, at least.

Cody got activated.

As they’ve learned, the neural network - battlefield mediation, in fancy Kamino speak - is activated by a designated Force using GAR personnel. Surprisingly, the status is even an optional display on the screens of every trooper’s vambrace. Or not so surprisingly.

Cody got activated by the Chancellor. Who is the Sith Lord the Order has been hunting.

Fox will deal with that later or never, whatever comes first.

He’s comming the Guard all across the planet, checking the weapons on his person, while General Billaba explains the situation. He appreciates her succinct manner, he’s gotta say.

“I’m on the way to detain Anakin. Mace is following the ship Commander Cody captured but we need someone to intercept them on Coruscant before he reaches Palpatine.” She halts for a brief moment. “Obi-Wan seems to believe the Commander has betrayed him when he knows about the neural link inside the clones. We are fearing the Darkness is deliberately attacking and clouding his senses.”

“I’m on my way,” Quin nods, adds with a calculating glance at Fox, “I’m not sure I have back-up.”

“Funny thing about the Alderaan design of the guard armor,” Fox comments, checking the plasma charge on his DC, and vows to give Senator fucking Organa a sliced fruit platter, “the Guard doesn’t have the connector to the neural link.”

He comms their resident medic next and orders every gundark-level tranquilizer delivered to him.

Cody got activated and is following the orders of a Sith Lord.

Stars help them.

#loud au #commander fox #quinlan vos #foxquin #tw addiction #my wips

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other-peoples-coats · 11 months

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struck by the idea where, For Reasons, plan saddest desert hermit doesn't get off the ground and team proto-rebellion have to pivot and pivot fast.

chucking the conspiracy equivalent of a uey at 100mph on the highway, and everyone involved is sleep deprived, stressed as fuck, and experiencing y'know, several levels of Devastating Grief.

the person with the brain cell is bail organa, a man who in canon spends like 20 fucking years playing ding dong ditch with a genocidal psychic space wizard and his boss, an even more genocidal space wizard. This man is not lacking in gumption, one can say. he is possessed of life threatening amounts of chutzpah, one might also say, except that he spends twenty years winning the ding dong ditch match with, again, a genocidal fascist dictatorship which includes two genocidal psychic space wizards who literally know he was in tight with the genocided group of space wizards plus the [mumble] number of other murderous genocidal space wizards, plus the rest of the non-space wizard space fascist cohort.

So. What does a man with a spine of steel, a heart as big as a planet, and more gumption than anyone should possess do, when plan 'split up the kids and hide the most famous man in the galaxy on the saddest hell planet' is a no go?

lie. lie like a fucking rug.

What's palpatine going to do? day one of the empire, his super awesome chosen one space wizard makeover project is still in progress and not yet wheezing his way into the galaxy's nightmares, and bail fucking organa strolls into the imperial senate with:

one (1) baby (female)

one (1) baby (male)

several (~20+) aides and various hangers on, including;

one (1) brown haired blue eyed man who could, if you squinted a bit, probably get third place in a general kenobi lookalike competition, were those now not super duper illegal

Sidious, of course, could be like A JEDI KILL HIM TRAITOR ETC, but, crucially, his wheezing attack dog is still on the lab table getting seven inches added to his height and cup holders installed, or whatever the fuck skeevy sheev added in as extras. Palpatine is an old guy who is still trading on being A Beloved Grandfather who was Reluctant To Take The Throne, and is still easing the galaxy into the whole, y'know, we're a fascist empire now, kneel or perish.

Palpatine, on day one of the empire, can't point at bail fucking organa and be like HABOURING A TRAITOR unless he is really, really sure, like 110% sure, because it's bail fucking organa and every goddamn senator will baulk like a horse at a plastic bag if he accuses, again, the senator of alderaan of high treason on day one of the empire.

A secret rebellion is fine, if not ideal; you can theoretically stamp it out, and, also, it's small, percentage wise.

The entire fucking galaxy thinking that, hey, if the guy in charge is going to go after fucking alderaan, what's to stop him going after us? bigger problem. huge problem. original trilogy kinda touched on that one. Day one of the empire, everyone is still basically on war footing, and fuck man, if alderaan is copping it....maybe this empire isn't great after all. maybe we can make our OWN empire, with a different emperor.

Would palps win? eh maybe. would it destroy all credibility forever and ever amen? yeah. the difference between a 'legally installed emperor' and 'a dictator we must overthrow' is how willing the galaxy is to lick boot, and there's not yet the fear of The Empire black bagging you to keep those tongues going.

so. palpatine can't say shit. palpatine can imply shit, palpatine can get his lackies to say shit. but, crucially, palpatine himself can't say fuck all about the goddamn kenobi lookalike that is now following after organa and wiping his kid's little butts and playing gofer and whatever else.

and what's more believable? bail fucking organa is hiding a traitor, or bail organa and his wife have a situationship with a guy who looks sort of a bit like a former general? the same kind of situationship that like, half the senate has had at one point or another with a guy (or guys) who looked sort of a bit like said ex-general. go to any high level business and/or political building, you'll find half a dozen guys who look vaguely like said hot ex-general, and many of them will have a more or less (often less) accurate coruscanti-ish accent. or will develop one.

(hey, it's a niche. gotta pay the bills somehow, and if you get the job because you dyed your hair and grew a beard, well, you're still using your political science degree, right?)

of course, that only holds for so long, but by that point it's been, y'know, a while. and that looks worse in a different way -- what, kenobi was fucking walking around in front of the whole imperial senate, and none of them noticed? absolutely not, all credibility is gone forever.

which means. that palpatine and the organas are stuck in a full on staring match about this guy who is 100% for sure not kenobi, because -- well. he can't be kenobi. becuase that would look bad. but also. it's kenobi. but also. it can't be kenobi.

(vader takes one look at this guy who looks like his master kenobi and then rolls his eyes, because he has already met aproximately 90,000 people who look vaugely like his master and he got very good at picking out how the newest one was not kenobi his master by the time he was a senior padawan.)

#bail organa #star wars #bailbrehaobi #like. implied #sort of.#star wars crack #coats originals #the plot here is not thought out. if you are like BUT THIS WOULDN'T WORK sssshhh it's for the bit #the bit of bail organa making skeevy sheevy's life miserable #bail like what're you gonna do. arrest me? for having a kenobi fetish? you gonna arrest half the galaxy too?

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 2 months

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Why Don't You Punish Me Then? Poe Dameron x F!Reader

For @for-a-longlongtime and this Ask Summary: You and Poe are in denial, but it's clear you're insatiable for one another. Warnings: Bondage, Voyeurism, pet names, public petting, bratty behaviour, switch dynamics, sub/dom dynamics, cucking (with a toy), orgasm denial play, unprotected PiV(but established relationship so some assumed assurances), cable-ties, questionable physics. (Set somewhere in the time Leia is still alive, RIP Space Queen, we love you Carrie <3 ) Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @merz-8 for doing a quick sweep of this for me <3 [AO3] Wordcount: 3.1k

Poe can’t stop touching you under the table during the debriefing. It’s been weeks since you were last in the same room and as impatient as you are to be alone with Poe, he’s kriffing insatiable.

“Stop,” you hiss under your breath as Commander Organa addresses the room. You’re sat at the very back, the lighting around you soft enough that even though you’re practically sat in Poe’s lap, no-one seems to notice – or care.

You two are the worst kept secret in the fleet, but neither of you have the guts to make anything official. It’s hard to place permanent labels on things when you’re in the midst of an intergalactic war.

“Stop what?” He asks as he brushes his lips against your ear, his right hand trailing up the inside of your left thigh as you try not to squirm. Heat pulses through you with every minuscule movement of his fingers as he inches up your thigh.

From the outside, it might look like Poe is whispering something about the mission. The pair of you are known to conspire during meetings, and critique mission briefings, much to command’s ire. But only you are privy to the way your cunt clenches at the wet drag of Poe’s tongue against the shell of your ear.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” you hiss, your breath catching in your throat as you feel two thick fingers stroke against the front of your jumpsuit, “Quit it.”

“You need to work on your poker-face,” he taunts you as he rubs firmly up and down against your clothed cunt. You have to stifle a moan at the way the friction makes your toes curl. Heat pools in your core and you stop yourself from bucking your hips to chase the delicious friction.

“You need to stop, seriously,” you snap as you gently prise his hand away from your aching core.

“Or what? Are you going to punish me?” Poe rasps in your ear as he entwines his fingers in yours, guiding your hand to his lap. You bite your lip as you feel his hard cock swelling under your fingers as he holds your hand against the front of his tight pants.

“You deserve it, horny asshole,” you hiss as you notice Leia’s eyes wander over to the pair of you.

“Do you two have something you’d like to share?” She asks, looking pointedly between you.

“No ma’am.”

The pair of you say in unison and Leia rolls her eyes at you before continuing. You can almost hear her telepathically telling you two to get a room.

“See how you make me feel?” Poe continues his verbal assault on your self-control as he slowly grinds his clothed dick against the palm of your hand. His hand is back on your thigh now, but you don’t move your own from his cock. You’re practically salivating at the promise his rock-hard bulge infers.

“I do,” you breathe as you grip him through his pants, “But I don’t think you deserve to be rewarded for this behaviour, Dameron.”

“Why don’t you punish me then?” He growls in your ear as you feel his thick fingers grind against your clothed clit.

“Meet me in my quarters,” you snap as the meeting finishes up and the rest of the mission crew depart. You catch Leia giving you an amused grin as you leave, you swear one of these days she’s going to call you out on your joint bullshit, but not today. She knows you two have some catching up to do.

~*~

Poe crashes his lips against yours the moment your door opens, pinning you to him with his large hands on your hips. You lean into his strong form as you lick into his pliable mouth. He walks you back to the bed and before he can push you down you hook your foot behind his ankle and push him off-balance. You turn him around deftly as you press him down onto your small cot.

“Missed you so much,” he groans as he pulls you flush against him, one hand pawing at your right breast as the other slides the zipper of your jumpsuit down.

“Missed you too, now strip,” you bark as you slide back off his lap, continuing to undress as you watch Poe scramble to pull off his clothes. His eager eyes are on you as he lies bare, his thick cock weeping against his abdomen as he looks up at you.

“So needy,” you admonish him as you continue to slowly peel off your suit. You kick off your boots and stand there in your cotton panties and bra as he fawns up at you, “You’re being punished remember? Up on the pillows like a good boy.”

Poe whines softly at the condescension in your tone but does as he’s told, shuffling back up against the far wall of the cot.

“Good, arms up,” you order as you crawl up the bed to meet him before leaning down to the nightstand, “Remember your safe word?”

“Geonosis,” Poe recites it quickly, tongue darting out over his dry lips as he watches you, his body twitches as he tries to stay still.

“Good,” you coo as you pull out a bundle of cable-ties, “Stay still.”

You straddle Poe’s hips as you pull out the anchor point from the wall above him, something you’d had installed off the books by one of the ship’s mechanics. Nothing like exchanging a good bottle of liquor and a carton of death sticks for discretion on a Resistance fleet ship.

“Please,” Poe whimpers as you let your tits brush against his face as you loop the cable-ties through the anchor and around his wrists, “Can I?” He asks as he looks between your hardened peaks and your face.

“As long as you promise to be good?” You taunt as you lean forwards, brushing your right breast agains his lips. You stifle a moan as you feel him latch onto the stiff nub.

“Promise,” he murmurs against your skin as he suckles gently on your tit. Your head lolls back as he gently nips at the tender flesh, sending pleasure rippling through your body. You grind your hips forward, your wet slit gliding along his length as he groans into your breast.

“Love your tits,” he mewls as you offer him the second one, he takes it greedily into his wet mouth as he strains against his bonds, “So fucking perfect.”

You let out soft moans as he worships your tits, pressing his face between them occasionally as he mouths at your sternum.

“Please, let me fuck you?” He whimpers and a delicious smirk plays across your lips.

“Begging already? Such an eager boy,” you hum as you lower yourself onto Poe’s lap, the sticky, silken press of his cock against your ass cheeks makes his eyes roll back into his head.

“Please,” he whines again, and you rock your ass back against him a little as he bites his lip, his eyes glassy with desire as he pleads.

“No,” you say as you lean forward to press your lips against his, “You’re just going to have to watch.”

Poe’s face drops as he registers your words, pulling on the cable-ties as they dig into his wrists. His jaw tenses as you move backwards off him, making sure to drag his tip through your soaked folds as you do.

“You’re being cruel,” he pouts, but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he tries not to show quite how much he’s enjoying this. It’s supposed to be punishment after all.

You pull a flat-bottomed desk chair up to the base of the bed, positioning so that the seat is in perfect eyesight for Poe. You secure the maglocks on the chair legs with a solid thunk against the Durasteel floor. You don’t want to risk toppling over mid-flow.

Once you’re happy the chair is secure, you rummage in one of your closets for a few moments before turning back to see Poe’s eyes trained on you. He’s beautifully desperate as his stumbled jaw ticks to the side, eyes almost bulging out of his head as his feet twitch in anticipation.

You saunter back over to the chair and with a flick of your wrist you slap a large silicone cock onto the chair. You’ve practiced this so well that the suction cup at the base takes first time. The black dildo wobbles precariously and Poe’s dick twitches as you steady it with your hand.

“If I can get myself off before you come, I’ll let you fuck me, however you want,” you explain, your voice low and dripping with challenge as you position your hips over the bulbous head of the black silicone dick, “So hold on tight, flyboy.”

You ease yourself down, groaning as you slowly spear yourself on the thick cock, your cunt is slick and inviting from all the teasing Poe had put you through earlier. You plant your feet on the floor, engaging your core as you start to move.

“Kriff, wish that was me,” Poe whines as you watch his hips buck up, chasing friction where there is none as he pulls on the cable-ties. His eyes are hooded as he watches your cunt take the toy with ease.

“Look at that needy cunt,” he growls, “Taking that fake cock so well,” he continues, and the gravelly rasp of his voice sends a lick of flame down your spine.

“Feels so good,” you sigh as you take the last few inches, the life-like toy rakes through your walls as it stretches you out, “So full,” you mewl as you drop your dominant hand down to your clit, the other hand tweaks each of your nipples in turn.

“Yeah? Feel as good as my cock?” Poe asks as you watch precome bead on his tip and leak down his shaft.

“Different,” you say as you wiggle your hips, making sure the toy is as deep as it can go.

You whine a little as you start to move, dropping one hand to steady yourself on the chair before rising all the way to the tip of the cock before letting yourself slide back down. You toy with your clit in slow, firm circles as you try to keep your eyes open and focused on Poe.

“Oh yeah,” Poe growls as he aimlessly thrusts up into the air as he watches you impale yourself on the toy, “Putting on a show for me, so kriffing hot.”

“You like it?” You pant as you start to rhythmically fuck yourself on the toy, “Like watching me cuck you with a fake cock?”

“I hate it,” Poe whimpers as you watch another pulse of precome leak from his tip, “Want to drag you down on my dick and fuck you dumb until all you can think about is begging for me to fill that sweet little cunt with my come.”

“Poe,” you whine as his vulgar words make you clench hard around the toy, “Think you can last, big boy? Or are you going to come all over your stomach like a pathetic, needy boy?”

You had intended to take it slow, make Poe fail to prove a point, but the more filth he spills from his pretty lips, the more it makes you greedy. You pick up the pace, fucking yourself in earnest on the slick silicone. Your breath comes in short, desperate pants as you feel your thighs burn with exertion.

“Who’s impatient now?” Poe teases as he bites his lip, his eyes fixed on your cunt as it glistens in the low light of your bunk, “Fucking soaked, fucking yourself so hard, you want my dick don’t you baby? Admit it.”

“Nuh-uh, punishing you,” you whimper meekly as your breathing hitches in your chest. The tight coil of pleasure twists in your core as you chase your pleasure with abandon. All you want is to feel Poe inside you, you’re tired of the games.

“Fucking slut, lying to my face,” he growls and you can’t hold on anymore, your cunt flutters around the toy as you spear yourself over and over as you feel your orgasm rip through you, “There she is,” he purrs as you hear the strain in his voice, “Good fucking girl.”

“Hate you,” you whine as you tremble and convulse, leaning back in the chair as your cunt pulses around the toy still buried deep inside you.

“I know baby,” Poe says, strain evident in his voice as he watches your chest rise and fall, slick pooling at the base of the toy and over the chair as you come down from your high, “Let me make you feel better, make it up to you yeah?”

“Might just leave you tied up,” you grumble, but you’re smiling and Poe’s smirk matches your own.

“Deal’s a deal,” Poe tuts at you as he twists the cable-ties in his fists, “Do you need help, princess?”

You hear the snap of the cable-ties and your eyes fly open as you see Poe up on his knees, already rubbing his chafed wrists.

“How did you-?” You splutter as you try and get up onto your feet but Poe lurches forward on the bed, pinning your hips down as he keeps you speared on the toy. You mewl and writhe from overstimulation, his large hands burning against your slick skin as he holds you there.

“Come on, you really need to invest in a good set of binders,” he hums as he nudges your jaw to the side as he takes your lobe in his teeth, “I’ve gotten out of more complex restraints in far more dire scenarios baby.”

“Poe, please,” you whine as he sucks slowly on your lobe, making you whole body tremble, “Need you.”

“I know,” he says with an edge to his tone, “I’ve got you.”

You cry out as he eases you up and off the toy, your cunt clenching around nothing at the sudden emptiness. You throw your arms around his shoulders as he slots his lips over yours. Poe spins in a slow circle before laying you on your back.

“Meant it earlier,” he mumbles through tender, hungry kisses, “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” you pant as he shifts you up onto the pillows, already lining his throbbing tip at your core. One broad hand is steady on your hip, rubbing soothingly over your slick skin as his thighs hold your trembling legs apart.

“Ready for me?” He asks, a gentleness to his tone as he nudges the plane of his nose against your own.

“Always,” you say softly as you feel his tip breach your stretched out hole.

You sigh in unison as Poe enters you in one swift movement, the hand not holding your hip comes to cup your cheek.

“Isn’t that better?” He breathes as he slowly starts to rock his hips, pulling almost all the way out before pressing back in. No matter how much the toy had stretched you out, there’s a hot, blissful burn as you adjust to the real deal.

“Kriff, yes,” you cry out as he fucks down hard into you, setting the pace as you writhe under him, “I love it, I love it, I love y-!”

You catch yourself before you let the admission slip but you can see it in the way Poe’s face softens, he heard enough.

“I love you too,” he snarls through clenched teeth as he ruts into you harder than before, the tip of his cock grinding against your g-spot as you feel another orgasm cresting deep inside you.

“Not,” you grunt as a smile burns across your lips, “How I wanted to say that,” you giggle a little with exhilaration as you drop your dominant hand to your clit. The other fists in the curls at the back of Poe’s head.

“No better time,” Poe grins, his cock driving into your cunt with wet, desperate slaps, “Kriffing love you.”

You pull Poe’s head down, slipping your tongue between his lips as you feel the blinding pleasure peak inside you. You groan into his mouth as your release bursts through you, your cunt clamping down hard around Poe’s cock as he snaps his hips one last time before spilling deep inside you.

You lie there, tangled, drenched in one another’s sweat, and panting into each other’s open mouths as you can’t stop smiling. Poe peppers your face with gentle kisses as you feel him slip out of you. Immediately you feel your combined spend leak from you, dribbling down your ass and onto the sheets below.

“Why do we always get my sheets dirty?” You groan as Poe rolls off you, propping himself up on his elbow as he trails his fingertips down your chest, splaying his hand out across your belly as he leans down to place a soft kiss to your temple.

“Because you’re the one with the sex anchor in your quarters,” he grumbles and you can’t help but laugh.

“Fine, you’ve got a point,” you sigh as you look up into his dark eyes as they shine with affection.

“Did you mean it?” He asks softly, brushing his knuckles back up to your breasts, the coarse skin raking across your nipples and making you whine.

“That I love you?” You ask, your voice breathy as you scrape your blunt nails across Poe’s near-permanent five o’clock shadow.

“Yeah,” he breathes as he turns his head to press his lips against your palm.

“I did,” you say, heat prickling under the skin of your cheeks and up to the tips of your ears, “I just didn’t know if we were doing the whole feelings thing.”

“Same,” he admits with a heavy sigh, “But I don’t think I can keep pretending anymore.”

“Yeah,” you yawn as you trace the curve of his plush lips with your fingertips, “We need to talk to command about this,” you say, sobering a little as you feel the harsh tug of reality wrapping around your heart.

“Tomorrow,” Poe says softly as he leans back down to kiss you softly, “Right now we need to get showered and move to my bed, there’s less come on the sheets in my bunk.”

“Ever the romantic,” you laugh as you press your forehead against his.

It takes you another half an hour but eventually you’re tangled together in Poe’s cot, hearts hammering in unison as reality sets in. But for once you’re not running from the truth of who and what you and Poe are.

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girlrandomstuff · 2 years

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TPATS SPOILERS 📢

No matter what Luke said, no matter what her own blood proved.

Vader was not her father.

A family was chosen, not born.

Bail and Breha had chosen her.

She chose Mon and Luke and Chewie and all her friends.

And she chose Han.

One of my favorite moments of all

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sinisterexaggerator · 4 months

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Got it Bad

Poe Dameron x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a medic aboard the Anodyne, a Resistance frigate frequented by one Poe Dameron. He often comes to see you when he is injured; you assume this time to be no different, as he is reckless in the line of duty and could do with your healing touch. But you have underestimated him; he has to show you something. Will you entertain his request?

Warnings: Explicit / NSFW 18+ for: Heavy petting, cunnilingus, PiV sex, kissing, blood and injury, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, medical scenarios, and mention of death in wartime. Contains: fluff, a liiittle bit of angst, smut, humor, and “love” confessions.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Poe Dameron! Dedicated to @allsystemsblue, because she was the one who told me to! Poe is all over the place in this, but always about consent!

Word Count: 8.1K

Divider and banner by me.

“How many times has it been, then?”

Doe brown eyes blinked once, twice, spidery lashes that may as well have been made of gossamer, or silk, gracing tawny skin with a kiss. Poe Dameron stared blankly at you as you dressed his wound, this being one of the numerous occasions that you were tasked to do so.

You were one of the many medics aboard this particular Resistance vessel that patrolled the Outer Rim. Stationed not too far from D’Qar and the principal base of General Organa herself, this reckless, daredevil pilot had a tendency to bless you with his presence after what you would call less than routine missions.

Not desiring to arrive to his superior a bloodied mess more than necessary, Poe frequently docked his T-70 star fighter in your frigate’s docking bay for safekeeping, allowing his droid companion free rein of the halls. Moments earlier, BB-8 had been offered a recharging station, Dameron left in your expert care as his ball droid rolled off and out of sight, following closely behind a member of the maintenance crew. The conversation between the two had been amusing to witness.

“Don’t worry, buddy! I’ll be right here waiting for you. Maybe. Possibly.”

BB had issued a series of complaints and reprimands in Droidspeak, causing the pilot to wince as if being scolded by his mother, or the general herself.

“All right, fine! I’ll come and find you then. No sweat.”

Satisfied, the orange and white orb had swirled on its axis, wheeling fluidly across a duralloy floor, leaving its master alone to suffer the consequences of his actions. Though Dameron did not seem to care, remaining somewhat unbothered by the gash across his forehead from where a piece of shrapnel had sent Black One into a spin. Before he could regain control, Poe’s head had crashed into the yolk of his X-wing, leaving a two-inch rent in his flesh.

No, he had not been wearing his helmet.

Despite his foolhardy nature, you thought it curious. With such a varied assortment of medical personnel living and working on the Anodyne - a modified Nebulon-C escort employed by the Resistance for the express purpose of being a mobile hospital - it was a wonder of yours why Poe always chose to search you out.

Not considering yourself to be anything in the way of special, at least the skills you possessed were adequate to put him on the mend. But, somehow, this visit seemed different, even if sticky crimson coated his handsome features.

You had come to notice that Poe was spending less time talking and more time staring, a thing you were not accustomed to as his gaze was unrelenting, the commander scrutinizing every facet of your appearance. He had seemed to limit himself to the surface area of your face, wandering, probing, exploring the curve of your nose, the outline of your lips, and finally the warmth in your eyes.

“Y-you didn’t answer me,” you commented, applying bacta to the injured man with a dabble of your fingers, your voice having lost its normal confidence as Dameron uttered a single, muted question.

“Huh?” he asked, as if only now realizing he was indeed a person, and that he could be perceived by others. He sat up marginally in his chair, those unyielding, heavy-lidded eyes almost vacantly looking through you, or so you thought.

You were beginning to wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that he might be mildly concussed. You were also becoming self-conscious, trying to keep the conversation on track despite Poe being so close to you with his blood staining your hands. “How many times has it been that you have come to see me these last few months? Don’t you know how to stay out of trouble?”

“No,” he answered without thought, leaning forward once more in the chair serving him for his examination. That sole syllable had been expressed in a dilatory fashion, soft and airy, only inches from your mouth.

You let out a breathy exhalation, surprised by this turn of events, yet nothing had happened. The cocky pilot dared to bite down on a rather pouty bottom lip; he watched you intently, gauging your reaction as he dallied there, finally adding more in the way of a response. “That’s why I’m here. Again.”

“Yes, right, obviously,” you managed, trying to restore some semblance of equanimity over yourself after having been caught off guard.

“Obviously,” he echoed, the word a whisper in the all too quiet room. However, this would not last as more wounded boarded the ship at intervals, soon the medical bay filled with a bustle of activity.

Unwanted activity.

Poe glanced around, assessing the situation. You had just finished bandaging him up when his hand reached out for yours, gently clasping your wrist.

“Doc, I’ve gotta show you something. I’ve got it-- bad.”

“It?” you inquired incredulously, your own glance taking an appraisal of the room. His voice had lowered again, as if this topic of conversation was not meant to be overheard. His expression appeared serious, deep-set brows knitting together in a visual show of his concern. You mimicked him, a rather human way to show empathy in this case, though not entirely sure what for.

“It,” he confirmed, gently pulling you forward toward himself, as if you weren’t already close enough. Your breathing picked up as you posed a follow-up question, a simple one, and straight to the point.

“What?”

He did that thing again, the staring, as if you were a sheet of transparisteel and he was looking beyond it to the other side. You scanned his face, those ruggedly attractive bits of him that you had tended to time and time again.

“Um—” he paused, as if not knowing what to say, like his words had failed him, which was not out of the realm of possibility as you could confirm this uncommon pilot flew by the seat of his pants. You canted your head, expecting some sort of answer, your gaze trailing to Dameron’s fingers latched gingerly around your forearm.

You took note of their thickness, their length, his nails surprisingly trim and immaculate for being a fighter pilot, though you doubted he spent that much time on solid earth when he craved the sky; realspace; to soar among the stars. Catching yourself quickly, it had not gone unnoticed, Poe matching your tilt of the head with one of his own as he peered up at you with those unwavering, expressive eyes.

“Rash … Inya Prime … Think it might be serious,” he informed you, causing you to retract and sit up straight. You tugged yourself loose from his grasp and frowned, turning to wipe your hands off the best you could on an otherwise clean towel, wishing he would have told you this before you had gone and touched him.

“Well, let’s see it then,” you offered, swiveling back around to face him. The pilot pursed his lips before biting down again, his foot beginning to tap against the floor; the motion was almost sultry, like this whole charade was planned.

For some reason, you doubted that assumption.

“It’s … I can’t show you here,” he confessed, lowering his head as he turned it to the left and right, giving the medical bay another sweep with his eyes; it was as if he was suddenly your conspirator, Poe carrying and guarding an important secret.

“Where then?” You compelled an eyebrow to stay level, it wanting to raise of its own volition. It was your turn to stare, Poe taking up each of your hands again, regardless of the fact you had just tried to halfheartedly clean them. He placed them gently atop his knees; he held you there, and you dare not move. Then, the man bore directly into you with his hardened gaze, nudging his head toward the exit door.

“Exam room, down the hall. It’s, um – it’s private.”

You gave him a reproving look. “Why were you on Inya Prime in the first place?” you asked, your fingers twitching beneath his. You were caught between wanting to relax and to allow this to happen, or to jerk yourself away for fear of someone getting the wrong idea.

“Reconnaissance,” he replied without missing a beat. You supposed that seemed logical enough, though Inya Prime was a small, boring, terrestrial planet of little to no interest to most.

That explained the civilian clothing, whereas most of the time Poe arrived to you in his bright orange flight suit, standing out like a ray of sunshine among the dark, depressing backdrop of space.

“And how did you get this rash?” you inquired curiously, wondering why it was he could not show you here instead, or just how bad it might be.

“You don’t wanna know,” he stated with a sense of finality, eyes searching yours, as if he was trying to penetrate your thoughts with a Jedi mind trick. You held his gaze a moment longer than expected before quickly standing to your feet; you felt the need to break physical contact, Dameron’s hands warm, rough, and—

“Fine, let’s hurry. There are others who need tending to.” It was the truth, yet you could feel your heartbeat betraying you by thumping loudly in your chest; you were sure that Poe could hear it.

“Right, let’s,” he said, standing. He walked a pace ahead of you then turned back around. He lingered, making sure you were going to follow him before he started out the door.

The man seemed nervous, slicking back a ringlet of dark hair that refused to stay in place. He ambulated somewhat awkwardly around the corner, then waited for you to unlock the examination room with a clearing of his throat. It then occurred to him he was standing in your way; he opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, moving to one side as you gave him an inquisitive side-eye, using your badge to unlock the facilities.

He nodded, just a small movement of his head, eyes darting forward as if thinking hard on something before he entered the small space. It was fitted with a table for patients to lie on - equipped with a step stool and stirrups - a cabinet filled with various medical supplies, a curtain for dressing and undressing, a scale for taking a patient’s weight, and blood pressure detection equipment, among other things. It had all those items necessary and then some, though depending on your diagnosis, you imagined you might need to prescribe him an antifungal ointment of some kind.

“All right, we’re here,” you offered with a gesture. “Now, show me this rash.”

Poe gave a jittery laugh, answering you with a nervy “heh” as he ran his forefinger along the clean sheets of the table laid out before him as if he was checking it for dust.

“Yeah, about that,” he finally spoke up, walking full circle around the bed-like object before he arrived behind you.

“You see, doc—” he began; you craned your neck, looking over your shoulder at him, wanting to know why you now felt trapped, barred to the only way out as he had sandwiched himself between you and the door. “It’s right here,” he said, placing his open palm against his chest and giving it a tap.

This time you were the one to clear your throat, tossing back your hair as you straightened up to appear more professional, or perhaps dignified, forcing yourself to not think about how you were about to come into contact with, or at least see, Poe Dameron’s bare breast.

All things considered, he was an attractive man. You had thought that the moment you laid eyes on him; the time he had come to you battered and beaten with a black eye and a sprained ankle – he had taken a tumble down the side of a rather steep hill on some backwater, jungle-planet and only made it back to his X-wing thanks to members of Black Squadron. His foot was so badly swollen by the time he reached you, it was a miracle he could walk - or hobble – at all.

A thought occurred to you. “I should wash my hands before we begin,” you declared, moving toward the small sink stationed with a cleaning solution that was meant for disinfection as much as it was for washing away dirt and grim.

Poe looked taken aback momentarily, words caught in his throat as he gave another nod, this one more exaggerated. “Yeah, right, OK,” he shot back, as if for some reason this had been a surprise to him.

You began your task, one hand over the other as you lathered yourself, peeking back at him. “Why don’t you take off your shirt?” you suggested, not able to help the way saying that made you feel, like this was anything more than a clinical procedure.

You could hear the rustle of fabric as Poe began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, getting the feeling that he was watching you, studying you, bent slightly over the basin in which you were cleansing yourself of his blood. It swirled around the drainage, leading to a reserve tank that purified and recycled what little water was aboard this frigate; you knew that every drop was precious.

Finishing quickly, you refaced him, Dameron’s broad, naked chest staring you straight in the face, though he had not bothered to remove his button up all the way; its two panels were parted and pushed off to opposing sides.

Firm pectorals were spattered with a thin sheen of dark curls, matching the scruff of a beard that had just recently begun to form on his perfectly sculpted cheeks, running its course down to a chiseled jawline. Beneath wisps of black was smooth, golden skin - as if kissed by a main sequence star that orbited some planetary paradise - the happiest of trails leading down and beyond the waistline of his trousers.

You watched, entranced, the rise and fall of his stomach with every breath he took, in and out, slow, and almost deliberately so. You swallowed to remedy the dry sensation in your mouth with what saliva you had available, wondering if your face appeared as red as you felt it must be.

“Right, OK. Rash,” you announced out loud, purposely making an effort to look up and back into his eyes.

Again, he put his hand up, over his heart. “Here,” he repeated, “Right here. You see—”

Poe stepped forward, and you stepped back, each move he made a calculated risk, but one worth taking. “— my … heart,” he said, voice lowering an octave, then promptly continuing, “it… burns, itches, when I can’t … see you,” he emphasized. “And. You. You’re the cure, you’re the—”

He walked another pace forward, looming above you as you found yourself pressing back against the wall of the exam room. “—the only one who can make it better,” he breathily muttered, so close now you could smell the scent of the shampoo he used; it was reminiscent of citrus, but not overpowering.

“W-what—?” You felt you couldn’t believe your ears, your neck lifting back and up as you analyzed his intense facial expression. “Poe, I—”

“Shhh,” he sibilated with a press of his index to your lips. Then, he changed the subject, however momentary. “I lied to you, by the way. There is no rash, I—”

“—Yes, I’ve figured that out,” you interrupted, though your words came out weak, quavering.

“Sometimes, I pretend to be sick or hurt just to come see you. That headache last week?” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “More like … heartache,” he finished, encapsulating your chin between two fingers as his lips met yours.

Your body froze; you were immobile, unable to breathe, unable to speak, and unable to comprehend exactly what was going on. Granted, you may have imagined this moment once or twice – every guy, or girl aboard this vessel you assumed had done so at one point or another. There was more than one reason Dameron was referred to so aptly as “Flyboy,” though you tried not to let that tarnish the present moment.

The only thing you could articulate was a soft moan of acceptance, melting despite yourself against the durasteel partition behind you. Ruddy fingers traveled upward, this time tangling themselves in your hair, palm cupping the back of your head as he gently drew you into a deeper kiss.

“Poe,” you gasped against him, your own hand rising to lightly push against his rock-hard pecs; it was a mistake on your part, this simple act of touching his unclothed chest the catalyst from which your loins stirred. “What—”

“—It,” he murmured, bringing the conversation back around from when he had coaxed you to this place. “—the thing I’ve got it bad for. It’s you,” he conceded, Dameron’s tongue slithering past full lips to gently prod at yours that stood partially agape, ready to accept another kiss.

You easily allowed him entry, that warm, wet muscle dancing in a figure eight, the pattern slow and rhythmic as he lapped at your suddenly hungry mouth. But you would not let lust overtake you, you were a woman of scruples, principles, and a practitioner of medicine; there was a time and place for this sort of thing and now was not it.

“Dameron,” you began again, this time managing to put just enough space between you so that you might think straight, Poe’s eyes immediately overtaking yours with a primal, excitable energy that penetrated you to the depths of your soul. He was so eager, you thought, so attentive, the man hanging, waiting, willing, to hear anything you might have to say.

“I believe you’re concussed, I think it’s best that—”

“I’m fine. Better than fine. Everything’s perfect,” he interjected, pressing his mouth against yours once more.

“—Why?” you blurted out, the question having clawed its way out of your chest. It was common knowledge that the man before you got around, not able to imagine that this meant anything more than an attempt at a quick hook-up.

“Because. I can’t. Stop. Thinking. About you. You.” He spoke your name, a tickle in your ear that sent a tingle of excitement prickling down your spine, leaving goose pimples that were undeniable to the naked eye.

“I can’t explain it. Maybe it doesn’t make any sense; you, me…” he trailed off, the butt of his thumb running over the curvilinear shape of your ear. “I watch you. Sometimes. Not to… sound creepy,” he added quickly, giving a somewhat apologetic look. “… You’re incredible. Calm in the face of danger, in the face of uncertainty. And. You’re not afraid,” he emphasized.

“Besides—” Poe bent down low, brushing his lips across yours, featherlight, causing a feeble mewl to escape before you had the time or the wherewithal to rein it in. “— what if we die. What if this is the only chance I ever get to tell you?”

He was right. What was the use of pondering the future, what could or could not be, based on the assumption that you were going to live another day, or two, or three. With the First Order threatening to undo all the hard work of the New Republic, your lot was on the run, your fierce and beloved leader the only thing keeping this small resistance group together, albeit haphazardly organized.

You feared for the general every waking moment, taking your orders come what may, keeping your head down, the only thing breaking the monotony of your day besides the constant fear of attack or death being this charming, handsome man who now held your attention, and had done so on more than one occasion.

“Kiss me again, then,” you begged, any objection you may have dared to make fleeing irrevocably to leave you open and vulnerable to the onslaught of his affection sans your better judgement.

“Mn, yeah?” he coyly asked, the fingers of his hand, dormant for your short discussion, reactivating to knead the base of your skull as he gently pulled you forward, Dameron once more inserting his crafty tongue into your waiting mouth.

His movements were thoughtful, tongue writhing and contracting in a measured orchestration that seemed rehearsed, yet special to this instant. Each loop was intricate, never so much as to be distracting, Poe’s delicious kiss spurring you to action.

You lifted your hand, allowing your fingers to clutch tufts of his hair. You moaned against him, his arms instinctively tightening around you before he pulled away, gasping for breath.

“Can I touch you?” he bashfully asked, hands smoothing over your back to descend in a downward sweep across your waist and hips. “Please, baby, please say yes. Please, please,” he whined, ardent pecks of his velvet lips only a bonus; you had not planned to turn him away regardless.

“Yes,” you sighed out lasciviously, thinking this entire situation was too good to be true. But why not embrace it for what it was? You deserved admiration, affection, love.

“Thank you,” he expressed with gratitude, as if you had given him his greatest wish, Poe adjusting himself accordingly as he gifted you with another lush, sensual kiss; it was tender and languid, feeling the movement of Dameron’s hand shift from the edge of your hip to the drawstring of your pants.

You were adorned in scrubs, a stark reminder of your station and position, yet you could not help that you were human with needs and urges to be fulfilled. Hell, you hadn’t even known you wanted this until it was happening, though life was anything but predictable - it was sporadic. And if Poe was anything, it was that.

You admired that about him. He had an almost childlike whimsy, taking all things in stride, even his injuries when he acquired them. He cared about others so often and so much he frequently forgot about this own ails. It was a good quality to have in a leader, and although he was often rebuked by his superiors, Dameron was an honorable commander and an even better pilot.

“Keep going,” you implored as you felt your desire building upon itself, pooling in the seat of your belly. Desperately, you wanted him to touch you, Poe inclining his head to one side as he broke apart from your pleading lips.

He made heady eye contact, the way he looked at you both dizzying and intoxicating, the man licking his teeth as he quipped a hushed “Yeah?” alongside the act of his fingers trailing to just below the hem of your waistband. They slipped down, down, two braver than the others as Poe’s index and middle finger disappeared beneath the front of your pants and past the soft, cotton layer of your panties.

Dameron groaned a sound, as if performing a task that was somewhat arduous, yet it was meant to evince appreciation for the soft bed of fluff that greeted him, all prim and trim. His breathing picked up, his probing appendages creeping further inside your undergarments; he whimpered against your throat, feeling welcomed by the warm slick that saturated his thick digits as he parted those soft, pillowy lips that lived between your hips, aligning the underside of his forefinger against the protuberance of your clit.

“Mn, you want this just as much as I do,” he teased, his words husky and sensuous, yet not at all meant to be disrespectful. He was the playful sort; you were glad it translated into other areas of his life, namely intimate moments like these, as it eased the tension you were feeling; the thought you were doing something you should not be doing; something wrong.

“Mhm,” you muttered, the interjection a dulcet susurration upon your partway puckered lips. It quickly devolved into an immodest moan as his thumb joined in, aiding in spreading your folds to allow him ease of access to your shrouded pearl.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you, his tone coated in sugar sweetness as Poe continued to cheer you on, “you’re so soft, and warm, and— ohhh,” he cut himself short, feeling embarrassed for not only the sizeable boner he was jabbing into your leg, but the fact that if he did not control himself he might very well cum in his pants.

“I—mmn. Admiral Ackbar naked. Admiral Ackbar naked," he intoned at low volume; you proceeded to laugh, though Poe did not, a look of stern determination on his face. Still, that did not stop him from pleasuring you as he gingerly thumbed that little nub betwixt your thighs, concentric circles close-knit and diligently applied as you trembled enticingly in his arms.

“Is this OK?” he rumbled in your ear, his voice a throaty purr that made you pitch ever so slightly forward with the goal of kissing him again.

“Y-yes,” you managed, your body mildly spasming as you sought after his tongue, Dameron ever so subtly picking up speed in the way he massaged your swollen clit. It thrummed beneath his finger; he tested uncharted territory, gradually inserting his index inside you to the top of his second knuckle. You were already so wet there was barely any friction to speak of, Poe once more moaning aloud to impart his satisfaction to whoever was there to listen – you.

“Oh, you feel- you feel, so, so good,” he rattled off, priming that digit to curl just inside and against the anterior wall of your sex; you gasped, though you had known what was coming, you just didn’t know how amazing the sensation would feel until he was already pushing you toward an orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” you entreated anxiously, the pliant underside of his thumb continuing its mission as it stimulated your glandular bundle of nerves; they twitched faintly, pulsating under his proficient hands.

“OK, yes. Yes. Tell me. Tell me what you want, baby,” he affirmed. You were quick to answer.

“Another kiss,” you adjured, Poe indulging you before the words could die on your lips. The passion he brought to your embrace, the delicate way in which he held you, the rhythmic pattern of his tongue inside your mouth – it drove you to a quick release, Dameron sucking the heavy breaths from your lungs as he attempted to engulf you, so zealous was his appetite for your quiet, though rapturous praise.

You briefly closed your eyes to regain your composure, breathing ragged, then gazed upon his face as you struggled to recover. He pulled away to stare at you, the feeling of his forefinger sliding out of your soaked cunt something not to be ignored.

You gasped again, a tiny sound. Poe admired you with a twinkle in his eye. Then, he gravitated forward, bending so close to your ear. “I can do better.”

“What?” you questioned, confused, trying to curtail your panting breaths. The twinkle in his eye was infectious, spreading to his mouth, Poe’s pretty lips outstretching into a broad, mischievous grin.

“Wait,” he stated.

You observed as he bent forward into a crouch, sneaking along the wall toward the automated entry. Staying to its right, he was careful not to trigger its motion sensor, using the nearby keypad to lock it from the inside. This time, you did quirk a brow, Poe lowering the lights manually to off, but not before making sure the shades were closed to the rectangular window that gave you a mundane view into the hall. However, you may as well be seven feet tall in order to see out of it, and there were species that tall aboard this ship.

Overall, you felt stupid for not having done this before, yet everything had occurred so quickly. What if you had been caught by a co-worker, or your boss? You had no idea how to explain being fingered by Poe Dameron in a room that could otherwise be utilized to someone else’s benefit.

Then, the man came forward, standing to his full stature as he joined you where he had left you, haggard and still somewhat discombobulated from what just happened – that’s when he picked you up, bending at the knees to wrap both arms around your waist as he carried you aloft, your entire body remaining upright and vertical.

“Poe! What are you—”

“Shh, shh,” he endeavored to keep you silent, walking around the corner of the examination table to place you gently upon it in a somewhat forced, seated position. He immediately got to work, as he had started with your footwear, taking it upon himself to remove one shoe at a time.

“Are you a screamer, or are you a whiner?” he asked with another cheesy smile etched across his face, “because I don’t mind either, but the screaming may draw attention, and I assume that’s something you don’t want.”

“I-I don’t—”

“-know?” He shook his head as if in disbelief, though somehow not surprised. “Ooh, we’ve gotta set you straight, doc!”

You meant to argue, but with your shoes gone, Poe began to roll down your socks; it was one of the most intimate things you had experienced, watching with rapt attention as he pushed the fabric down bit by bit, replacing it with moist kisses along the top of your foot and up toward your now bare ankle.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked offhand, Poe repeating the process on the other side; this time he enveloped your big toe, intaking it into his mouth as he teasingly sucked, mimicking a poi fish who wanted to dine on what it perhaps thought was a worm.

You involuntarily squirmed, pushing against the tops of his shoulders. “That tickles!” you declared, Poe gazing up into your eyes as a “pop” resounded upon release.

Then, with that same unapologetically severe, impassioned stare, Dameron rose to half-stand on his knees as his hands found your hips, fingers digging into the loose band at your waist. He pulled, softly but with enthusiasm, hypnotizing, chestnut-colored eyes once more drilling a hole straight down into your core as he tugged one pant leg off, then the other, followed by a move that would rid you of your underwear.

Partially naked, and on top of your own examination table no less, you instead tried to forget what repercussions might follow suit of your actions and leaned down to kiss the man again. He rose higher, forcing you to straighten your neck and back, Poe’s broad hands encasing the breadth of your face within them to hold you so, so carefully as he returned your gesture as naturally as if he was drinking water.

Come to find this was a tactic, the man releasing you after stealing your breath away a second or third time, hands sliding to lightly shove you back by the shoulders as he lay you down. At once he disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you faced with a view of the ceiling directly above your head; you idly wondered if you were both getting too far ahead of yourselves.

“Poe, I don’t think we should be—” You exhaled noisily, words caught as you choked on a breath, your overactive imagination unable to be controlled as you envisioned the intense kiss you had experienced earlier being reenacted between your legs. The man had pinned you by your hips, kissing once, twice, - feverishly - the inguinal groove that connected your abdominal wall to your thigh, not wasting a moment’s time in making your briefly held fantasy come true.

“Hm? Mmmn,” Dameron hummed, his response muffled by your flesh. Your body stiffened before relaxing as he licked your already soaked slit with the flat of his tongue; it effortlessly slipped between the folds of your labia, Poe toying with your clit, running circles until the whole thing delved inside your opening.

The man pulled you forward by your thighs, closer to the edge of the table; you could feel the paper bedsheet sliding beneath you as he lapped at your cunt like it was a second mouth. He moaned into you, his breath hot on your skin, the scruff of his chin chaffing your legs, but you did not once complain.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he whispered, the tip of that furled muscle retracting to glide upward along your delightfully slick vulva before it once more found the nub that was begging to be touched; it was already so sensitive.

Your chest heaved as a ripple of pleasure quaked through you, Poe beginning to suck the hard bit that was the recurrent object of his focus. At that moment, you felt blessed, belting out a sound that was a cross between elation and ecstasy, the final product being nothing more than a subdued pule from downy lips.

“Oh, fuck,” you crooned, your thighs progressively closing around either side of Poe’s head as you instinctively tried to brace yourself against your coming climax.

“That’s what I thought—ooh, hey,” the pilot protested, not liking one bit the sudden fettering of his movements. He dislodged himself, then pushed down with both his hands, parting your legs again to make sure he had unrestricted access to your cunt.

Then, he had an idea. “That’s not happening again,” he informed you with an impish smirk, Dameron lifting you up by the underside of your ass as he dragged you even closer, this time making use of the equipment made available to him, though this wasn’t exactly a gynecological exam. The scoundrel picked up both your feet, one after the other, making sure each one was secured in turn, having positioned you spread eagle with your shamelessly wet pussy put on full display.

“Ohh, this is beautiful. Perfect. You’re perfect.” The man had stopped to stare at the exquisite view before him, a hungry look overtaking his winsome visage; you had barely lifted your neck, perhaps meaning to address him, before you were forced to expel a mousy squeak following a show of near desperation on his part.

Poe had darted forward. Now hands-free and having situated you in stirrups, Dameron plunged his tongue back inside of you while clasping his fingers behind his back as he liked to imagine himself in binders. He tongue fucked you as your chest expanded and contracted with each euphoric breath, deep and slow, before he redirected all his energy back to your eager bud.

Then, his head joined in, bobbing back and forth as he enthusiastically ate you out like a man starved, consuming his first meal in weeks, months.

Wet sounds invaded your ears, Poe miming a hound lapping water; it only caused your clit to pulse, your right arm lowering for impatient fingers to latch onto his raven locks; you were careful not to disturb the dressings on his forehead even so, not wanting to let your hard work go to waste.

You held him steady; you pulled him closer, thighs trembling, though your legs still remained forced apart with knees jutting out to either side. It was the dirtiest, nastiest you had ever felt, yet at the same time Poe had made you feel alive. Alive, and not just waiting around to die.

You moaned lewdly as you gently bucked your hips, your body convulsing in rapture as his focus was laser sharp, the full expanse of his thick, skillful tongue caressing you softly from the cusp of your vagina to the vertex of your throbbing clit – over, and over, and over again.

The pattern he applied was slow and methodical, Poe’s cock beyond hard as he gently humped thin air. The man himself was groaning, speaking breathlessly against the soft flesh of your mound, even as he continued to dine.

“Baby, you taste so, so sweet. So, so, good. Mm, be a good girl, yeah? Nice and easy for me. Nice and easy…” The pilot’s words trailed off, that gentle lapping turning toward a precise, calculated stroke with just the tip, this being the very thing that drove to you the point of no return; you came again, one hand still buried in Poe’s hair as the other clasped at your breast.

“Mmmn, oh shit, oh fuck, Poe,” you cursed again, your entire being writhing in unbridled bliss as you rode out one of the most intense orgasms in recent history, this only encouraging the pilot to keep at it until you physically had to push his head away, albeit with caution.

Poe looked up at you with those emotive, gorgeous brown eyes, lips glossy with your excess; you panted heavily, looking down on what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. You took a few more moments to recuperate, then made a demand of him that even surprised yourself. “Fuck me, right now, please.”

That cocky smile faded, Dameron staring fixedly at your face. He searched each part of it, as if measuring the seriousness of your words, then sat up fully on his legs before standing completely to gaze down at you, chin glistening and damp, not noticing the red welts spattering the inside of your thighs from where his stubble had left its mark.

“Since you said please, and so, so nicely might I add,” he joked, undoing the holster at his waist with lightning speed as he let his Glie-44 blaster pistol fall to the floor at his feet. You sat up on your elbows, enjoying the show, Poe unzipping and unbuckling his pants and belt with such wild, feral vigor, it was as if they were presently on fire.

“Mn, sweetheart, would you hate me if I said I’ve been dreaming of this?” Poe questioned, though you were unable to get a read on if he was being sincere or just full of hot air. You did not answer him, instead reveling in the desperate way the pilot kicked his boots off, witnessing his undressing between your parted legs.

They felt like jelly, still held up by the stirrups. You smiled salaciously, feeling oddly playful as you began to sway your knees back and forth to emulate the fluttering of butterfly wings; you amused yourself by fondling your overstimulated clit for his pleasure and your own, waiting ever so patiently for him to finish.

It only slowed him down; you almost laughed again, this man proving to be predictable as far as men go, spellbound by the fact you were touching yourself, and in front of him, no less.

Poe let out a laborious, rasping breath, as if his throat might be closing in on itself, pearly whites once more finding rose-colored lips as he chewed timidly on a plump bottom rung. At that same moment his pants fell down to his knees, leaving Dameron in his tight white underwear, his package so hard and compact it looked ready to burst free of its cotton prison.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he professed mostly to himself, yet loud enough for you to hear him. He stumbled forward, releasing himself of the pants that still clung to him with every step, wide, warm hands placing themselves upon your knees, one for one.

“Mn, baby, for me?” he asked in a diffident tone, Poe’s cheeks burning hot as he was drawn in by the sexy spectacle before him. After a moment or two of getting lost in his own thoughts, he scrambled for his aching prick; it felt like it was going to erupt any moment now. Already it had leaked droplets of precum, the tip wet and sticky as it sprang loose.

The pilot began to pump himself as he was glued to the rhythmic stroking of your fingers; you teased him by inserting one within yourself, Poe moaning almost instantly as he came up to you all the way by the edge of the bed, gently batting your hand away. He aligned his dick against your slit, eyes laser focused, then he abruptly stopped what he was doing to lift his head and stare at you.

“You sure? What if-” he hesitated, wanting reassurance.

“I’m protected,” you whispered, at once your feet lifting so that you could wind your legs around Poe’s waist like a serpent coiling about its prey. You squeezed lightly, drawing him in, Poe helping on his end by gently nudging the head of his cock against the lubricious entrance to your vagina.

Dameron shook this time, his body tremulous against you as he sank deeper and deeper into your warm center, guiding it slowly, his girth spreading you open as you gasped, arms overtaking him in addition to your legs; you wanted his chest pressed against yours, beckoning the man to lower himself to the proper height so that you might kiss him, fingers once more gathering in his shaggy mane.

“You f-feel, ohhhh… Like, like. Like clouds,” Dameron stammered, commenting on your plush, tepid walls as he finally bottomed out. He was slow to retract his hips, then slow to press them forward again, “It’s like breaking atmo; that euphoric feeling you get when—”

Poe cut himself off, lips compressing against one another to form a concentrated line. He closed his eyes, his pace deathly drawn-out, tortuously so, each stroke of him inside you sending pinpricks of pleasure throughout your nerve-endings, both from without and within.

It was endearing. Not knowing of all the nuances comprising this pilot’s personality, this one surprised you. Poe had always seemed so high-strung, so exuberant; it was a change of pace to see him take his time on something - you.

With a tilt of your neck, your mouth found his, your tongue slithering between his teeth to taste yourself on him. You sighed fervently, pulling him closer by the meat of your thighs, in turn interring him deeper within yourself.

“I won’t break,” you informed him softly, having pulled away to encourage Dameron to rise above his stupor and fuck you like he meant it. Poe gave a slow, deliberate nod of his head in return, as if trying to find his center and a place of calm before he would be able to continue.

“Right,” he finally said, intaking a sharp inhalation of oxygen as he rocked forward, pitching his hips so that they were flush against yours. He dipped back again, repeating these motions in a syncopated rhythm, and you finding it impossible to keep your mouth from hanging open as he hit his stride.

“Just like that,” you cooed silkily, your breath warm and wispy against his ear. This alone sent Poe to a higher plane, somewhere you were sure you could not reach him, causing Dameron to make a helpless, needy sound.

You felt a warm gush; a spurt of something that was unexpected this early in the game. Poe’s face contorted pleasantly into a look of ecstasy. You watched, fascinated, the pilot coming inside you after only a few pumps. Hell, you didn’t even mind; he had given you yours twice over. You felt a kind of privilege bestowed upon you; the knowledge that your pussy must be made of solid gold. That, or he really did like you.

“Oh fuck, ohh no, shit, I-I’m sorry,” Poe stuttered, his tone indicative of embarrassment. You tried to lighten the mood with a joke, dotting tiny kisses along the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quell his mounting anxiety.

“What was that about setting me straight?” you teased, Poe forced to laugh despite himself as he tried to catch his breath. He shook his head, brawny biceps propping him up just above you, jet-black strands dangling down to brush against your nose as he sighed a dejected sigh.

“You’re just so pretty, and I was excited, you know? I- It’s- It’s been a while,” he clumsily explained, “haven’t had the time to actually masturbate, being in the middle of a war and all—”

You cut him off with a kiss, a forceful press of your lips to his. It was your way of shutting him up, aiming to put a stopper in all of his excuses; it did not matter to you.

“Poe, it’s fine,” you affirmed, cradling the antsy man’s refined jaw in the crook of your palm, “these things happen. I’m not upset. You already got me off twice; that’s more than most men for the entirety of a relationship.”

You had exaggerated that last part for a bit of dramatic flair, this particular white lie having no purpose other than to bolster Poe’s self-esteem and to make him feel better. He smiled at you, a genuine, honest-to-God smile, as if coming to terms with the fact he had no need to worry, and that he might just get a second chance one day, contrary to what he had at first believed.

“So, uh—” he started, lifting gently up and off of you; his cock incrementally eased its way out of you, the remnants of his seed thick and sticky as it flowed freely out and onto the exam table.

He scrunched an eye, as if still ashamed, Poe sucking on his bottom lip to alleviate the mental anguish he was suffering before he sheepishly asked you a question, “Now that we’ve gotten to third base, would you care to visit first?”

You propped yourself up on your forearms, quirking a brow as you rose to sit. He assumed correctly, thinking that you did not take his meaning, Poe following up to explain more succinctly. “Dinner, maybe? Or—”

Sirens began to blare, a red alert sounding all throughout the Anodyne. A voice rang out over the internal comm; Dameron and you were quickly put on edge.

“Attention, all personnel: report to stations. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”

Your face fell, as did Poe’s. He gazed at you a moment, ignoring the awful clamor in the background as people began to race throughout the halls just beyond the door. It was as if time stood still, and you were unable to break away from Dameron’s dark gaze. The man, who was so amiable and easygoing, now looked browbeaten and worn, knowing that any minute now he would have to find BB-8 and return to his X-wing when he had wanted nothing more than to relax in your company. Wishful thinking, he mused.

You were the first to move, rushing to get up. You found a towel and cleaned yourself up, collecting your clothes from off the floor; somehow, your tunic had remained intact, though you would hold out for a future time when Poe might touch those parts of you, too. It was hard not to want to imagine him with his soft lips puckered about your nipple as his stocky fingers massaged and revered your breasts.

“Attention: all pilots, return to hangar. Repeat: all capable pilots return to your ships.”

“It was just as well, huh?” he asked solemnly, referring to the abrupt end of your impromptu rendezvous.

“Go,” you commanded, Poe’s stare lingering, amber eyes piercing you with a look that was ironically impenetrable; resolute, yet somehow somber, wistful.

He broke away, finally, and with difficulty, scrambling to adjust his briefs before throwing back on his pants and buttoning his shirt. He hitched his holster around his hips, the boots made to go on last. You observed as he hopped around on one foot, once more finding him to be endearing as you turned to rush toward the refresher, steadfast in your desire to use the sonic, if only for a moment; you needed to rinse off before returning to the med bay, as was your duty.

Poe called out to you by name; you whirled to face him. The man’s fluffy eyebrows were stitched together as he could only stare at you again. Then, he seemed to finally come-to, stepping the few paces forward that separated you.

“I’ll comm you later?” he asked more than stated, the backs of his knuckles running the length of your cheek. You could only nod, leaning up to kiss him one last time.

“Come back in one piece, OK? I don’t want to have to stitch you up again; be careful,” you urged him. He smiled that charming, boyish smile that made your heart race, as radiant as ever; his mood could change so suddenly.

“No promises,” he replied, meaning it in jest, yet you knew there was some truth to it.

You parted ways with the best damn pilot in the galaxy, hope being the only thing left to you both now. Hope that he would never have to step foot back aboard this frigate, but that if he did, it would be for some better reason, and not because he had failed to heed your warning.

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