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picture a boy kneeling in front of you, looking up at you with pleading and adoring eyes as you pet his hair and run your fingers over the lines of his face 😩😩😩
premise: hate and humility ran your relationship with kylo, as did the heavy hand he loved having you wrap around his throat.
pairing: kylo ren x (f)reader
word count: 1.1k
warnings: eighteen+ content, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, sub!kylo x dom!reader, biting, humiliation.
etc: anyone who dislikes sub!kylo you will be hearing from my lawyer because with those mommy and daddy issues? come on let’s not kid ourselves here lmaooo. this is my first time really writing for sw so there’s the bare minimum terminology in it ok don’t attack me.
kinktober 06 | kinktober masterlist
“More,” he grunts into the air. Quilting the room in even more lewd noises as his lungs plant a gasp at the back of his throat, as you give him what he asked. As your hips continue that low rising bounce on his cock, and your fingers tighten around his throat.
“Like that?” You already know the answer, already know what he wants—what he needs—but you love how desperate he looks when his dark eyes look to yours. A satisfaction turning the corner of your mouth into something sly, as you bend down and hover your lips above his, “you’re so pathetic.”
You know if he wasn’t inside of you right now, if you weren’t riding his cock with vigor; the roles would be reversed, the mood change to one of cruelty and hatred. The fist around his throat becoming his around yours in anger, the despise in his eyes just as enticingly cutthroat as the look in them now.
Except there’d only hold malic, that hatred that would want to slam you against the wall and wring your neck until you took your last breath—use his saber on you to finally shut you up.
To rid himself of the humility of being bested by you, finally freeing himself from dealing with you.
The decade long rivalry and hatred of being on different sides, of wanting to do nothing more than conquer the other; instead of the constant fucking the two of you seem to always find yourselves doing.
That going on as long as the decade old rivalry, for as long as the two of you have hated each other—the intensity of that hatred turning into something with teeth that craved something as rough as lust fueled rage that left the two of you sweaty, bruised, and sometimes bloody.
You giving Kylo that humility he loved to hate so much, and him giving you the power of control.
Control over him. Over your own pleasure, sinful desires and thoughts; power.
You both knew when it came to real control, real power, Kylo ranked higher than you. His family name alone is enough to bring someone as less fortunate as you to your knees.
That’s why it felt so good—knowing like this, with Kylo stripped of everything and below you, you brought him to his knees. He let you fuck him like he was nothing, like you held this power over him, like a force.
There was some sickly connection keeping the two of you tied together, same insides of a rotting fruit everyone looked past; dangerous, poisonous, deadly.
And with your fist around Kylo’s throat right now you both knew all you needed to do was push down, to put all your strength in squeezing enough to catch him off guard and you could slam the knife in your boot through his chest cavity.
End an oncoming war before it even begins.
But there’s a festering wound of dread and betrayal that won’t let you; or was it that the two of you were so similar that you’d feel a scab missing from your body? A scab you keep picking at. You’d rather reopen it and heal it with licks and temporary bandages that you’re all too eager for him to tear off.
If anyone was to ever ask you’d forever claim Kylo Ren to be the worst tyrant you’d ever met, and couldn’t wait to put him down; out of his misery.
And right now, that thought—putting him out of his misery—makes you smirk for a whole other reason.
Every time you bounce down on his cock you dig your nails into the side of his neck, like a string pulling his mouth open, eyes glistening with a smog of submissiveness. The hand at your ass leaving indents in your skin with how he grips you back, the only roughness he’s feeding back to you.
His knuckles going a colorless red as his other hand grips your wrist, an indication to keep going, a beg for more, harder, faster, whatever he needs, whatever you want.
He’ll take it all, and wants it all.
“You’re trying so hard not to come right now aren’t you?” You chuckle around a moan, let your thumb move an inch up to the bottom of his jaw to pull his chin lower so you can put the pad of it against his lips. Your lips still hover above his, your eyes downcast and holding contact with his. “Does my pussy feel so good that you can’t wait any longer?” He doesn’t answer, only puffs of choked air wafting across your lips. “Tell me how good I feel, Kylo. Scream it. Let your little army know how pathetically desperate their leader is, maybe they’ll come watch. See how weak you get with my hand around your throat.”
“Fuck you,” he grunts, scowls. Tries to put on that tough face. That face that only means he wants more. Wants your words to cut him until it’s licking at that poison inside of him. Until you’re both drunk on it.
You smile, “I see how it’s going to be tonight.” You push your thumb into his mouth, nail digging into his tongue. Your hips stopping, his cock feeling even heavier inside of you now that you’re no longer moving. Kylo wraps his lips around your thumb without you having to ask, looking for a praise that you’re not going to give him. A praise he doesn’t deserve—a kindness neither of you deserve.
Instead you press harder against his throat until he’s gasping, until you have to tighten your legs around his hips to stop him from bucking up into you. A moan slipping from your mouth when he returns the pain with sinking his teeth against the skin of your thumb. Your cunt clenching around him, begging you to move, to return the bite.
“Tell me how good I feel and I’ll let you come, promise. Or I’ll choke you until your last breath, and I’ll swallow it down. Be the last thing you see, feel. I’ll be the hero of the galaxy.” Your breath his heavy, hips doing the slowest roll, getting off to your own words. To the throb of his cock against your walls. “Say it. Say. it.”
Your grip loosens on his neck, enough for him to speak, to spew out a plea of heavy words. “You—” Kylo swallows, eyes rolling back just as your hips rise and fall along his length. “You feel so good, fuck I hate–you–ahh.”
Your hand aches from how long you’ve been choking him, so once you’ve moved it, as he’s moaning against your lips as he comes, there’s a satisfying relief in your fingers; your bloodstream.
“Pathetic.” The smirk that spreads across your lips matching his own.
i have been in such a RUT creating-wise lately. i haven’t colored/painted/sketched in months, i haven’t written in YEARS. i haven’t even done anything as simple as make a playlist in almost a month. idk what it is but my brain feels so empty…
i haven’t even really been reading. i have two books by my bed i stopped halfway i haven’t gotten back to, and i’ve read slim to no fic in forever. kinda sad about it. i miss when i had the constant energy and motivation to create and consume. now i just go to work, come home, and sit on my endless rotation of social media sites until it’s time to go to sleep and repeat it all over again.
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