To the lovely anons that sent me these asks and to everyone else who has been so amazing and supportive of my writing this past year, I love you dearly and enjoy. Happy New Year!
Part 1
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: slight pain kink if you squint, piv sex, oral sex f receiving, I mean there is angst cause it’s my brand these days, but also somewhat soft Kylo, somewhat, not really a warning but no pronouns for reader but they’re afab
Ship: Kylo Ren x Reader
Kylo Ren hasn’t seen you in over a month.
So when he exits the ship and finds you standing amongst the landing teams ready to begin their maintenance protocols, he falters just a bit.
You only look at him once and your gaze is nearly indiscernible. The hand holding your clipboard is bandaged tightly.
He knows he has to report to the Supreme Leader immediately, knows that he does not have the luxury of trailing you as your figure fades into the crowd of pilots and troopers, and it eats at him the rest of the day.
Kylo’s quarters are a welcome sight as the cycles change and artificial lights begin to dim. Part of him, rather foolishly, expects to find you lounging on his sofa or relaxed and waiting in the sea of black sheets on his mattress. More predictably, he returns to the rooms resolutely empty and free from signs of any habitation during his absence. He tries not to let that thought spiral, not to convince himself to hunt you down and drag you back himself.
No, he needs you to come here of your own volition.
He knows how much sweeter you’ll taste when your will is broken and you are full of want.
It does not take long.
A little less than an hour after the shifts change, he hears the doors to his quarters slide open and the soft sound of footsteps on durasteel.
There you are, he thinks, and feels lighter for it.
The room seems as though it's holding a breath as Kylo wanders back out to the entrance and sees you standing in his doorway. The walls sigh when you toss your uniform jacket to the side and toe off your boots. Your eyes are alight and he loves the flames behind them.
Kylo trails his gaze up your legs to your hips and chest, pausing only to glance at your throat—it's bare of any marks, but he will fix that soon enough. He has been hungry for so long, starving for flesh to yield in his grasp and afraid it never would again.
No words pass but they are not necessary.
You forgive him in the way you close the distance between your bodies. In the way you place your hands steadily on his shoulders and let his arms hoist you up in his grasp. In the way your ankles lock over the curve of his ass without hesitation as he walks you both back to his bedroom.
The fabric almost melts away wherever Kylo touches you, like the stardust that makes up every piece of the galaxy could not bear to stand between your skin and his. You look so good like this.
Splayed out, perfect outlines of your form reflected in the viewports.
But it is your face that does him in.
Creased with desire, lip bitten bloody between your teeth in an attempt to hold back your desperation.
Kylo would never understand why you bother trying to hide how badly you wanted him. In a matter of minutes he’d have you a crying, moaning, bruised and battle-scarred mess beneath him. Just the way he knows you need.
The way he needs
He settles over you, thick thighs like cage bars on either side of your hips and his leaking cock leaving a smear of precum along your stomach. Just seeing how far along your belly it rests makes his jaw tense, as the flair of desire sparks under the skin of his chest. You reach up slowly with your hand in its bandage to press light fingerprints into the flush below his collarbone. The pink skin turns white as the blood rushes from under your fingers and leaves a quickly fading imprint of your hand on his flesh.
You watch, lips parted and eyes glassy as Kylo catches your hand in his and squeezes it through the rough material. He doesn’t stop until you let out a quiet hiss and close your eyes against the sting of straining joints. Keeping the pressure steady, just on the verge of popping, his lips brushed across your knuckles in a soft, half-formed kiss.
He would always hurt you, but some part of you would always like it.
After your eyes fly open—catching on his mouth reverently at your fingers—any semblance of composure vanishes.
You are simply bodies from that point forward, and one he knew almost as well as his own. Your tongues dance against each other, slipping along the crooked edges of his teeth as you drink him down. He paints wet stripes along your neck, biting hard at the joining of your shoulder and sucking the warm flesh into his mouth until the blood vessels break and you are marked for him once again.
There is a certain taste to your skin that he will never tire of.
It coats his mouth as he sucks your nipple and rolls it between his teeth. It’s on his teeth as he slides down your body and licks up the length of your cunt. That sweet, sharp, biting flavor that drips from his chin as he brings you to completion again and again on his tongue with his nose nudging your clit each time.
And it floods all his senses the second he sinks his length into you.
Your legs are cinched up around his waist, hands clawing down his back and surely leaving marks of your own as he drives into you to the hilt. He’s got his head tilted down so he can watch the way his cock splits you, fills you so completely, so painfully and perfectly. Your body was made for him, he knows it, feels it just as he feels the Force in his bones.
Kylo Ren is not a man who asks for forgiveness, but he cannot find another way to describe the snap of his hips or the circling of his thumb on your clit.
He cannot lose the feel of you like this—wanting him and taking all he has to give—and so he will offer this up in hopes of absolution. Lace you with pleasure until you are drunk on him and always stumbling back into his arms. Your walls are hot and wet and clenching around him and his resolve shatters when his name leaves your lips.
With a rush of clacking teeth and growls, he locks your mouths together again and swallows down all the cries of your release. His cock twitches and his hips stutter in their ruthless rhythm as he pours rope after thick rope of cum into your fluttering pussy.
You let him fold into you, never utter a complaint about being crushed under his weight.
He likes that about you.
You never complain, just take what he gives graciously.
And when he rolls to the side, Kylo lets his eyes drift shut while he listens to you pant beside him. The room is steamy warm and he is sore in the most pleasing of ways. You do not leave and try to forget the feel of him dripping slowly down your thighs, and that puts him at ease for just a moment.
Hello!! May I please request “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if i have to, until you answer me.” with our boi Kylo? Could it be sweet with smut? Thank you so much!!! DALDOM is such a joy to read, like thank you for quenching my thirst in this drought of a time
Thank you so much for all your support babe!! Soooo, remember when I said this would be just drabbles. Well I went and wrote like what could potentially be considered a one shot and it’s probably not at all what you were looking for but it left my brain and its here now.
This is loosely based on the Mobster!Kylo x Lawyer!reader AU I’ve been fantasizing about writing for awhile, so you can just read it as modern Kylo to simplify things.
Prompt: “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if I have to, until you answer me.”
Warnings: nsfw, angst which y’all just need to expect by now, breaking and entering, feelings, sorta soft Kylo I think, possessive vibes
Word Count: 2k
Message number 27:
Kylo’s voice crackled out of the answering machine sounding warped as the signal cut in and out.
“You’re not getting away that easily,” he rasped. “I’ll keep calling for the rest of the night if I have to, until you answer me.”
Your inbox was well and full by now. He’d made good on his promise though. Your phone had vibrated itself off the counter at one point with the amount of incoming calls. An hour or so ago, you’d just turned it off, hiding away under a blanket in the living room and trying to control your breathing.
You knew it had been a mistake to get involved with him professionally. His business was not exactly of the ethical sort and you couldn’t have any stains on your reputation. But he’d paid handsomely, and you did enjoy the extra funding to spruce up your rundown apartment.
But it had been a grave error to ever be romantically involved with Kylo Ren. If you could call it that. There was nothing truly romantic per to say about it, possessive was a more appropriate word for him. Ren kept a collection of spoils and you simply couldn’t bare to be just another trophy anymore.
Although it seemed your greatest blunder was in trying to break things off amicably. You should have just skipped town. Should have broken your lease, took the hit to your credit and changed your name. Should have, would have, etc...
But you didn’t.
And now you were facing the consequences.
The consequences which were currently trying to break down your front door.
Footsteps, loud and heavy, pounded up the narrow hall and what was almost certainly a foot connected and splintered the wood of your lock on the first impact.
You jumped clear off the couch, landing in a heap on the floor and crawling away from the door as it swung on its hinges. The knob left a hole in the drywall as it burst open and standing in the remains was the last and first person you wanted to see.
There was a reason you’d only left a message with his assistant and slipped quietly home. There was a reason you’d taken the week off so you wouldn’t accidentally run into him looking for you at your office.
Because, no matter how much you detested what he did, you couldn’t deny how easily he’d drawn you in. Not just with money but with his air. The cloud of mystery and intrigue, risk and reward that clung to him was intoxicating. And you knew if you had to look him in the eye, he’d pull you right back to him. Have you laid out on his expensive mahogany desk, pussy dripping and cock pounding into you.
You could hear it now:
“Your fucking cunt better not take the finish off,” he’d growl into your ear, fingers down your throat to muffle any noise. “Gonna lick it clean when I’m done aren’t you?”
He was staring at you now with that same dangerous look which had enticed you in the first place. You shuddered from your place cowering in the corner.
Kylo’s massive hand wrapped around the door and slammed it back into the ruined frame before crossing the room and backing you further into the corner where you sat.
“What the hell are you—?!”
You were cut off when he yanked your upper arm harshly dragging you to your feet and caging you to the wall with his chest.
“Why the fuck didn’t you pick up?” he hissed, lips working over themselves when his jaw twitched.
“I left a message,” you stated calmly, eyes focused intently on the ground.
“No that’s bullshit and you know it,” he pounded his fist into the wall by your head.
“I meant it,” you tried to keep your voice level but your hands were shaking at your sides and he was too close and too loud. “I can’t do this anymore.”
His hand found your jaw, forcing it up towards his face, “Look at me and say that again.”
It was a challenge. A dare. Calling your bluff.
You took a breath.
His eyes were so pretty though when you finally met them, all the nerve drained out of you. Kylo looked so...enraged, enraptured, betrayed. And you just couldn’t. But you had to.
The words were soft when they slipped past your lips, “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Can’t do what?” he demanded.
His eyes were flicking all over your face, from your mouth to your eyes and back again.
You didn’t know how to explain that he scared you. Not him entirely, but what you felt for him, what he did to you was terrifying. It was an addiction you couldn’t shake and you needed to go cold turkey or you’d be stuck in this back and forth forever.
“What?!” his voice cracked as the shout left him. “What am I not paying you enough? What more do you want?”
“I don’t want anything—“
“No, no, no,” he cut you off again, hands wrestling against you until he gripped the outside of your thighs and hoisted them around his waist. Your skirt rode up your back and left you nearly exposed to the chill of the apartment.
“Kylo, please,” you struggled in his grasp.
Your hands were so small on his chest, barely contained by the blue dress shirt he wore. He was hard in his pants, you could feel the length of him pressing into your core. Your name left his lips right before they crashed into yours.
You tried to push back, to seal your mouth shut and turn your head but his kisses were your weakness. Few and far between and gut wrenching every time and he knew it. Knew what he did to you. And you couldn’t help but yield to his onslaught, letting him lick into your mouth and trace your teeth.
He was like a fine wine, or what you imagined people meant when they said that. It all tasted the same to you, but Kylo was more delicious than any of it. And you drank him down despite the little voice in your head telling you to bite his tongue and get as far away from him as possible. Somewhere he couldn’t track you down.
But really, you knew that was futile, because Kylo Ren could find you anywhere. Once he sunk his teeth in, there would be no getting away without blood on your hands. So you kissed him back and didn’t protest when his lips wandered down your neck, leaving a trail of marks in his wake.
“You can’t,” he mumbled into your skin.
Kylo’s hands shifted, fumbling in between your bodies until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your underwear. He ran his thumb along your slit, groaning at how your pussy dripped for him.
“Can’t what?” you gasped, as he circled your clit through the cotton.
He tore his hand away and fumbled with his belt buckle, freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. You felt him push your panties to the side and rub the hot head of his length against your lips. He was so warm, so big, so right, so exactly what you always wanted.
His face was pressed firmly into the crook of your neck, and there was a distinct wetness there and his chest shook when he breathed in the scent of your laundry detergent and perfume.
“You can’t leave me too.”
The words were nearly lost in the fabric of your shirt, muffled and strange in his mouth and whatever inkling of resolve you’d had earlier that day shattered like glass in the path of a bullet. You’d never heard him sound like that before. He didn’t say things like that, didn’t tell you things like that. Things that mattered. Things that hurt.
Kylo rutted his hips against you, coating his cock in your essence and making you squirm as he pressed against your clit with every stroke.
“Say it,” he sounded so far away, “say you don’t want me.”
You knew you should. You should tell him to go or call the cops—he had broken in after all—saddle him with legal fees, make some other lawyer get him out of his messes. But there were a lot of things you should be doing, like drinking more water or getting eight hours of sleep or covering your face in pureed cucumber or any number of other things on all those stupid self care lists that normal people absolutely couldn’t have the time for.
So you said nothing, just shook your head and rolled your hips to meet him, tugging on his hair until he pulled back to face you. His eyes were rimmed red, dark circles puffy underneath and you thought it might be nice to slather yourself in cucumber smoothie if he was there with you.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’ll stay.”
And you choked on the next words out of your mouth as Kylo dives into you, thrusting straight in to the hilt. You feel the sweet sting of him stretching you open, filling you to the brim and you know you’ll never feel this with anyone else. No matter how shady and unethical and terrifying he is, Kylo is not the kind of man you find twice.
He isn’t taking his time, the way he’s fucking you into the wall—bucking his hips into you at a frantic pace and making you whine—it isn’t for pleasure. No, you can tell by the way he’s keeping you close, not trying to change his angle to get deeper, he wants to be as near to you as possible.
You realize distantly, as he’s rubbing quick circles around your clit with the pad of his thumb, that this is the first time he’s ever been to your place. You're not entirely surprised he knew where you lived despite that. Maybe you’d invite him to stay the night, maybe he'd actually be there when you woke up.
But that was probably just a pipe dream.
It didn’t really matter, not when he was bringing you so close, not when he was still kissing you and biting at your lips like a man starved. His pace began to stutter, rhythm faltering as he neared his climax.
“Kylo—oh fuck,” you moaned low and long as he bounced you on his dick.
“Cum for me,” he rasped out.
And you would.
And you did.
Because you always did what he asked, no matter how dirty it made you feel.
So you came screaming his name so loud the neighbors had to have heard it, and he tumbled right over the precipice at the clenching of your cunt around him. You felt him deeply, painting thick ropes of hot release along your walls until it dripped out around his cock. He didn’t move for a while, just dropped his head back down to your shoulder and waited for your breathing to even out.
After a few moments, he unhooked your legs from his waist, letting his softening length slip from you as your feet landed back on solid ground. You looked up at him, hands resting on his forearms and took him in—dark waves frizzy around his head with sweat and shirt wrinkled from where your nails had gripped the fabric. He tucked himself away, fastening his belt and you watched how his fingers moved nimbly on the buckle.
“So,” you mused.
There was still some hint of more in his gaze, something that hadn’t quite been blocked out. And he cleared his throat, humming in response.
“Does that offer for a higher salary still stand or?”
All the tension melted from his face as it fell back to the familiar deadpan, blank stare you’d become so accustomed to over the last few months. Kylo shook his head at you, eye twitching almost imperceptibly. You couldn’t help but smile, even as his frown deepened.
Who were kidding? This was the best gig you were ever going to get, and Kylo was a ride you weren’t willing to give up quite so soon. You were sure now you couldn’t escape him even if you tried.
‘Never get involved with the Mob,’ that was a thing people said right?
People also told you to ‘go to law school,’ and look where that had gotten you: involved with the Mob.
Well folks I have returned after a long break. I was hit with a wave of no motivation and life shit but thank you to everyone who has read all my other shit and left me such nice feedback. I am patently horrible at responding to comments but I see them all and love them so much. There is not much Kylo in this chapter, so apologies in advance but I promise there will be plenty of him to come.
AO3 Mirror
Part 9 to come
Warnings: Angst, angst and more angst, not much else except for that so buckle up.
Summary: In which you discover sometimes knowing is worse.
Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader
Word Count: 6.4k
Your breathing stopped along with the footsteps at the door. One hand remained pressed firmly against your mouth while you shrunk as far under the desk as possible. There was only horrid stillness for the next few moments. You got the distinct impression that whoever stood at the entryway was tasting the very air, sniffing like a predator for blood spilled into the sea. And a chill ran through you the second he caught your scent. A voice like ice and stone rang out as the hunt began in earnest.
“You know, it’s impolite to enter a room without permission,” Atreus mused from behind you.
The sound of it coupled with the knowledge that he was only mere footsteps away made your limbs shake. Like a wild creature caught in a snare, you were flooded with instinctual fear at the sound of the door clicking shut.
“Though I will admit, I was hoping you would pay me a visit.”
He was pacing now, footsteps softened by the carpet but still perceptible. To your right the embellished wardrobe doors were flung open accompanied by a dissatisfied grunt. You frantically searched the immediate area for paths of escape—or potential weapons if it came to that—but there was nothing. Your back was to the door and Atreus stood directly between you and the only way out.
As the likelihood that you would walk out of this office dwindled, you cursed yourself and your hubris for ever taking this job in the first place.
There must have been a saying about this type of thing somewhere, but you couldn’t seem to recall any at the moment.
“You ought to show yourself,” he continued, every word laced with mockery and disgust.
He was getting closer with each step. There were only so many places to hide and judging by the fading noises of clutter being moved, all but one had been exhausted. He was going to find you and you were going to die.
At least you would be right about one thing.
Kylo Ren really was a liar.
“I never took you for a coward,” fingers drummed on the desk above you and it creaked as Atreus leaned his weight over the top, like a ship's hull as it kicked into hyperdrive.
He was so close now you could smell him, all artificial cologne and shoe polish. If you hadn’t been trying so hard to hold your breath before you certainly were now. His own came in calm, measured puffs and you closed your eyes tightly as if that could hide you any further. While your last moments alive and breathing wasted away, you recalled all the times the Commander had called you arrogant or prideful or any other combination of synonyms that all meant the same damn thing: foolish.
Before you might have called it confidence. Might have thought he and all your other superiors were simply threatened by their inability to tear you down. Now you just kicked yourself for being cocky enough to leave your back turned.
“Seems I was mistaken, Ren.”
What?
You recoiled at the name and very nearly said the word aloud as your eyes flew open in shock. But the legs which came into view—unnervingly long and thin— and situated directly in front of the desk turned anything you might say to dust on your tongue.
Why was it, even at the moment of your imminent demise, that the Commander was inevitably mentioned?
Could you really not be executed for political gain in peace?
“I know you’re here. I can feel it,” he began but was interrupted by two more approaching footsteps and a blessedly familiar voice.
“No, I’m sorry sir, I’ve been away sampling catering options,” Lem’s soft, clear tone was more relieving that you’d care to admit.
You swore if you lived through the next five minutes, you’d apologize for every rude thing you’d ever said to him.
Well, all the rude things you’d been wrong about.
“You were in your office just before I left,” Gahl grumbled and stopped just outside the door, wrapping twice. “Atreus, are you quite finished in there? I’d rather not be late to dinner just because you’ve stained your tie.”
The creak of hinges nearly had you slamming your head into the desk in shock.
“No sir, I lent the space to our guest from the First Order,” Lem prattled nervously and you heard Atreus growl as he shifted in place.
“You shouldn’t be letting just anyone wander around here, Alba,” the advisor huffed before adding under his breath, “You never know what they might get into.”
“Really, you’re the one that suggested we invite—” Lem was drowned out by another soft knock and the creaking of a door across the hall.
You didn’t bother tuning into what Gahl had been mumbling about as Atreus’s knees slowly bent and you were once again filled with the rush of dread at the prospect of being discovered. At best you’d be labeled as a conspirator and sent back to the Finalizer for Hux to have you killed himself for destroying Order relations to Coruscant. At worst, you were destined to die on the goddamn floor at the feet of a greasy, poor excuse for an advisor.
But in fact, neither of those options played out.
Instead, you found the world going black for just a split second—no more than a blink—and when you woke it was to a hand gently rocking your shoulder.
You bolted upright, startled to find yourself no longer cramped on the floor, but seated in Lem’s office. There was a small puddle of drool on the desk and Lem himself staring down at you, brows knit in concern.
“You alright?” he asked quietly.
But you didn’t respond right away, just looked wide-eyed out the door as Atreus rose from the floor and met your gaze with his own indecipherable expression.
From beside you, Lem squeezed your shoulder again and you turned to face him.
“Yes, sorry,” you muttered, shrugging away from him and rolling your neck. Every joint and muscle in you felt stiff. “I must have dozed off a bit.”
“I can see that,” he chuckled but his face never lost it’s questioning look.
“Right, well,” you continued, hastily gathering your things. The air felt thick and stuck in your throat. You wanted to get out—needed to get out—immediately. “Thank you for the office, I’ll be on my way and send the drafts to you later this evening.”
Passing by Gahl at the doorway, you gave him a friendly nod and a quiet, “Representative, I hope you have a lovely evening.”
You were nearly out of the wing entirely when that god awful voice sunk it’s claws into your leg again.
“Oh, but you must join us for dinner,” Atreus hummed.
He had sauntered back out to stand behind the Representative and was pinning you down with a horrifically sweet smile. It was so wrong on his face you shuddered at the sight. Gahl, annoyingly, nodded along as he looked you up and down.
“A good suggestion,” he said heartily. The redness of his cheeks and the slight sway in his step suggested he’d had more than just one drink before returning. “We haven’t had the chance to speak much since you came.”
Shit. That bastard knew you couldn’t refuse a personal invitation lest you run the risk of seeming rude or suspicious when you were here to supposedly mend ties. Gahl might have been drunk enough to forget the impasse but Atreus was not as dimwitted.
“Well, I suppose I can’t refuse such a kind invitation,” you gritted out as politely as possible.
Gahl clapped once, loudly and turned back, calling to Lem, “Wonderful! Lem my boy, you’ll meet our friend in the lobby, yes?”
“Of course,” he said, blonde head popping out of the doorway and offering you a sympathetic smile. “You can go drop your things off and change if you’d like, I’ll wait for you.”
You sighed and flashed a hopefully convincing grin at the three men, “Thank you, I shall see you momentarily.”
With that you tried your best not to turn and bolt, but waited at least until you got three corridors down before collapsing to the floor in a pile of stuttering breaths and shaking hands. You tucked your head between your knees and tried to inhale deeply. The insides of your head pounded with the slick, viscous sound of Atreus’s words. The only thing that pulled you to your feet again was the insistent need to get as far away from it as possible.
The hallways blended together as your feet carried you father and father from the offices, the Representative, and your almost murderer. You had hoped your room would offer some reprieve from the panic, that there may be someone waiting for you inside to spin comforting lies of safety.
There was not.
The room contained nothing but freshly made sheets and a white blotch on the wall where a hole had been patched.
Nothing at all to indicate the Commander had set foot there since your return.
You considered calling for him briefly. It had worked before, and the shame of crawling behind his hulking form to hide away was incredibly alluring. But instead you found yourself discarding your jacket and top in favorite of something slightly more upscale. The clothes landed in a pile by the bed where you sat for a moment.
With the door and several floors of high rise architecture between you and that slimy bastard of an advisor, you thought again about what your second dive into espionage had dredged up.
‘In his head’, Atreus said you were in his head long before you ever came on this assignment. Kylo had bristled at the words, shut you down quickly and you were used to secrets—you had many yourself—so you knew one when you saw it.
Bond.
The word rolled around in your skull, burned on your eyelids in that awful, messy script.
It hurt to think about.
Physically hurt, like someone was digging needles into your spine.
So you didn’t think about it.
Not yet.
Instead, you finished fixing your outfit and walked back out of the empty room. There were answers and you would find them, but it was clear you’d have to get them on your own. So you let the door click shut behind you and took a deep breath. It was just dinner. You could do dinner and you would get your answers.
On your own.
****
The food looked painted onto the plate, contrasting colors and lovingly set out, but tasted like sawdust in your mouth. A shame too, it smelled better than anything you’d been served yet on Coruscant and was certainly a hundred times more extravagant than anything the Finalizer’s cafeterias stocked.
But having the man who was seconds away from killing you just a short hour ago stare diagonally across the table with his corpse like eyes every time you moved did quite the number on your appetite.
Thankfully, Lem was seated in front of you and had been prattling away for most of the meal, leaving you with little silence to fill. Part of the way through your fourth or fifth wood-chip bite, Gahl decided to change that. His voice was low and grated with age as he turned in the seat beside you to speak.
“So, how are you enjoying your stay on Coruscant?” he asked, inching his leg out of the chair and closer to yours.
“You’ve been very hospitable, Representative, I have absolutely no complaints,” you lied through your teeth, smile just as purposefully arranged as the food in front of you.
Gahl’s hand patted your thigh just as he’d done at your first meeting, “Glad to hear it, I’m sure it’s nothing like those Star Destroyers.”
You cursed every social rule of polite society which kept you from putting your knife through his hand.
“It’s certainly a change of pace,” you mumbled around another flavorless mouthful. “Lem has been a wonderful guide.”
In fact, you would give anything to be surrounded once again with nothing but bland, grey durasteel and the eyes of officers who were more than happy to pretend you didn’t exist. You’d even take standing in General Hux’s office, watching his ginger head flit about between sifting through files and insulting your diction in reports. If the Commander would even bother to look your way, you would have taken his cold, inaccessible stare over this as well.
As your thoughts drifted further in the direction of Kylo Ren, another chilling voice joined the conversation.
“Oh, don’t feel the need to flatter him,” Atreus chose that moment to chime in, scoffing into his napkin. “No doubt Alba’s simply talked your ear off about his low class, wait staff dalliance.”
Lem bristled, cheeks a comical pink with rage, “He has a name.”
“Well, I’m sure he does, but I simply do not care to learn it,” Atreus sipped his drink and scowled. “You shouldn’t be fraternizing with the servers at all, it’s unbecoming of an aide to the Representative.”
Across the table, Lem deflated and looked between you and Gahl. You were given the distinct impression this was not a new topic of conversation.
“He’s right about that my boy, you can buy whoever you like now on the salary I pay you,” the Representative chuckled and downed the contents of his glass.
“I’m sure our guest would agree,” Atreus’ eyes were trained on the plate but you felt his gaze on you all the same.
“Relationships between superiors and subordinates are...frowned upon in the Order, I suppose.”
You only caught a glint of the light off Lem’s slicked yellow hair as he turned toward the man beside him.
“Certainly but it must happen,” he said.
“Of course it does,” Atreus looked at you then, the blue of his iris was so light it nearly blended into the whites. “But it would be quite a dangerous predicament, especially somewhere like the Order, would it not?”
You were sure to keep your face blank and unassuming, though it was either much less convincing than you believed it to be or Atreus was actively capable of hearing the panicked screaming of your internal monologue.
“Yes, yes it would be,” you nodded and looked back down to the table.
“Particularly with someone of your standing, working directly under the General, I can only imagine the implications of a relationship with anyone high enough to be your senior.”
You could feel your eye twitch and your jaw tense almost against your will, as if Kylo Ren himself was choosing this very moment to inhabit your body. Really, you almost wished that he would, especially with his aggravating ability to remain completely unreadable in even the most stress inducing of situations. But alas, the only part of you Kylo inhabited was your mind in the form of an incredibly inappropriate slew of evidence for your so-called ‘dangerous predicament.’
“Hm,” you hummed quietly in agreement, hoping he’d drop the subject. “It would be quite unsightly, I’m certain.”
Meanwhile, Lem stared at you incredulously and hurriedly excused himself from the table mumbling something about the restroom. His blonde head quickly disappeared into the crowd and you were left alone with the Representative and his advisor, a pit developing in your stomach. And it was only made deeper by the muted betrayal in Lem’s parting tone.
“The boy has always been too sensitive,” Gahl offered by way of explanation and Atreus nodded slowly.
“He cracks too easily under scrutiny. He should know by now that softness is not a very useful trait in this line of work.”
You frowned and shifted in your seat, swiftly moving the Representatives gnarled hand from your leg.
“Some amount of give is crucial in politics,” you said, gaze flicking between the two men. “It’s important to be able to bend to your adversary every so often. Being underestimated by your opponent often means you’ve been unwittingly awarded the high ground.”
Gahl laughed heartily again as you excused yourself as well, though Atreus remained stony calm even when you glanced back between the sea of tables and waiters and expensive suits.
Lem emerged from a side door not long after you’d posted yourself in the short, empty hallway leading to the restrooms. He would have walked straight past you if not for your hand swiftly yanking him back by the arm.
“Wait,” you hissed as he turned to face you huddled in one of the doorways.
“What?” he hissed back.
Well. That was a fair enough question, though you hadn’t exactly thought that far.
Lem stared at you with brows furrowed, obviously less than thrilled with how things were left off. A small part of your mind, which you were more than happy to bury and ignore, whispered that you ought to apologize. But that was most certainly not why you came after him.
No, leaving the table was simply to punctate your last statement.
Not because some part of you felt...guilty.
Absolutely not.
In fact, this was a perfect opportunity to do some more digging. Lem was your pseudo-informant and that was all.
Right.
That was certainly why the following words left your mouth in a tumble.
“Are you okay?”
Lem paused as you let your hand fall from his arm, shuffling back so he could stand out of sight in the door frame across from you. He still looked cross, but his lips quirked up just a bit. You supposed he’d asked you the same so many times in just the last day, it would be appropriate for you to return the favor.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “That was by no means a new conversation.”
“Under different circumstances, I would have been a bit more…” you trailed off and Lem offered you a signature toothy smile.
“Appearances and all, I get it. Atreus uses any excuse he can find to bring up Jane since he caught us a week or so before you got here,” Lem sighed, running a hand through his neat hair.
“Who?”
The look you received was even more incredulous than before.
“Jane, my—”
“Right, the waiter,” you nodded and raised your hands in apology, “so, why exactly does it matter who you’re seeing?”
Lem shook his head, “It doesn’t really, since I’m just an aide, but I’m fairly convinced he’s been trying to get rid of me since he was brought on.”
A gaggle of restaurant staff rushed past to the bar where a woman was loudly complaining about her food. You welcomed the attention her display drew away from you.
“Oh, he wants me gone too,” you muttered and quickly waved off the comment when Lem leveled you with another confused glance. “Any particular reason why?”
He shrugged and hunched over so he could lower his voice, “Not sure, but I do know he’s been butting his greasy head in whenever the opportunity presents itself. He climbed the ranks quicker than most of the other staffers.”
Now that was interesting. Bless Lem and his affinity for gossip.
“That seems odd,” you frowned. “I hadn’t heard of him until this assignment, and I like to think I’m fairly well informed.”
Lem scoffed and peered over his shoulder as if he would find Atreus there, breathing down his neck, “I’m sure you are. He just happened to materialize one day, determined to take my job.”
Yes and your life as well, but Lem needn’t know about that.
“Strange.”
“Yes it is,” he replied. “And they’ll think the same if we’re gone much longer.”
You nodded and watched him turn to merge back into the crowd, but he paused halfway into the hall.
“Thank you,” he said simply and slipped away, past the bar and into the waves of diners.
You waited another few minutes after Lem disappeared, and allowed yourself a small, secret smile. If for no other reason than your success at finally piecing together some information about the spiraling mess your life had become. But mostly at the rosy cheeked and chuckling sincerity that alleviated some of the uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach.
And you found the food a little less like chalk, the nerve wracking stares and inappropriate touches a little more bearable the rest of the night.
***
The elevator ride back to your room was far more excruciating than any of the other unpleasant encounters you’d experienced that day. At least when you were cowering on the floor making peace with the fast approaching end to your mortal body, you couldn’t feel the bearer of your death breathing down your neck.
It was so uncomfortable, you actually wished that the touch-happy, drunken Representative had tagged along instead of staying back till last call at the bar. Your heartbeat racketed up three times its normal rate when Lem pressed the button for his room a few floors below yours instead of riding back with Atreus to the office suites.
“Did you want to discuss my notes for a bit?” you asked, trying and somewhat failing to keep the desperation out of your voice.
Lem looked at you with a strange expression on his face, nose turning a darker shade of pink than usual, “Oh, ah, another time maybe. I have, um, someone waiting for me.”
From behind, Atreus scoffed.
“Truly, you are shameless, Alba,” he said and you heard him shift behind you.
“Right,” you wanted to push the issue harder, but it would be worse if Atreus suspected you knew anymore about his plot than he already did. “I’ll see you later in the week then.”
The panel above the transparent sliding doors rang and Lem stepped out into the hall, “Yes, well not too long till the big reveal, so I’m certain we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
The soft hiss of the doors closing again reverberated in your bones like the thunking of an executioner's blade. You swallowed as your tongue turned to stone in your mouth. There were only a handful of floors in between before your stop but that would be more than enough time to maim your body beyond recognition and throw it down the incinerator shaft.
You reminded yourself sternly that it was unlikely Atreus would exact whatever assassination plan he had in place in such a secluded space, but fear responses were not easily reasoned with.
Atreus remained resolutely out of your line of sight and that only made the deep, instinctual part of your brain howl for you to run, claw, bite. Oh if only it were that simple, there would surely be far fewer aggravating superior officers in your life.
The numbers on the panel moved far more slowly than you thought they ought to. With every extended second you spent in that horribly cramped lift, the air grew thicker with tension and the rancid smell of panic. Finally, finally, the panel flashed your floor number and the doors moved aside to reveal the beautiful sight of an empty hallway. But just before you crossed the threshold to freedom, an iron grip clamped hard down on your wrist.
“So sorry to keep you,” Atreus began and you spun to face him. “It has only just occurred to me I haven’t had the opportunity to discuss anything with you regarding the Representative and the subject matter of your speech.”
He really had to wait until now to do this, now when escape was dangling over your head like an unfortunate prisoner hanging over the maw of a hungry sarlacc.
“Yes, well Lem has been providing council with respect to the Order’s representation of Representative Gahl in all our official statements,” you replied calmly.
The slightest twitch of your hand revealed a shocking amount of force hidden in the advisor's lanky arms. You stuck your foot back as the doors began to close, unable to bear another minute trapped behind them.
“Of course, I simply wouldn’t want you being led astray by any of Alba’s short comings,” the grip on your wrist tightened almost imperceptibly, “I’d like to work more closely with you as we approach the first campaign endorsements.”
“Certainly,” you forced a tight smile in his direction. “I would greatly appreciate your input.”
The words sliced your lips as they tumbled out. You were accustomed to lying, yes, but stars that was potentially the least believable statement that had ever left your mouth.
“I’m sure.”
Staring hard into his dead man’s eyes, you tried not to breathe a sigh of relief as he unfurled his fingers from your wrist. Stepping back clumsily into the hall you waited until the doors hid his cheap imitation of a smile before you heading down the hall to your room. Better he not know which turn you took.
You ran the rest of the way back.
The tightness in your chest subsided by degrees the farther you got to safety and you didn’t even bother denying to yourself the hope that your Commander in all his black cloaked, looming glory would be waiting to stand between you and the reality waiting just outside.
You really should have known better than to put any faith in his promises.
“Kylo?” you whispered into the empty room.
He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t, and maybe that was the only reason you were brave enough to call out for him.
There was a familiar black bag propped in the corner by your luggage which indicated Ren had at least returned to the Federal District at some point during the evening. That at least was something of a comfort, though a very small one.
You grabbed one of the chairs from the table and shoved it securely back under the door handle. It scrapped against the floor and your shin throbbed as you kicked it in place. Once again the clothes on you wore seemed to have been permeated with whatever disgusting, oily sheen that leaked off of the absolute slug of a man currently puttering around in his office planning the best way to choke the life out of you. They itched and stung and you tugged at them quickly, pulling each item off in a flurry like coals blistering your bare skin.
Free from the growing pile of discarded laundry you dug around through your cases. Your hands still shook as you scattered the contents, pulling on fresh bottoms that didn’t reek of lies and aftershave. You paused as your fingers brushed against something far softer than any of your Order regulation garments.
Large, flowing, and predictably black, Kylo Ren’s undershirt hung in your hands like a shroud.
You battled with your instincts. Half of you—the portion still living in the past where hatred was a simple comfort—wanted to ball it up and stomp it full of dusty boot prints. That side did not win and its screaming reduced considerably as the shirtsleeves made their way down your arms. You were enveloped immediately in a sense of sheer relief coupled with the feeling that what you were doing was profoundly reckless.
But even if it was a false sense of security, your hands and knees were not shaking as badly as before.
The Commander was intimidating and cold, but in addition he was intimidating and cold and standing resolutely between you and danger which was more than you could say for just about any other coworker.
You supposed he was probably a bit more than that now.
Eyes shut, you recalled the warm, full feeling of his approval upon seeing you in his clothes. The way it rushed through you and pulsated when he let his voice echo in your head. You wondered what it felt like for him. Was your voice a grating nuisance or was it a tingle at the back of his neck, the shiver of cool hands or maybe the surge after a well won battle.
How did he do it, you wondered. How did it feel to read you so easily? To know all your doubts and fears and micro-defiances before they left your mouth. And how did he remain so resolutely aloof?
Even now, as you tensed your jaw and tried to focus on the smell of him surrounding you and conjure his presence, there was nothing but dead air. You sighed and let your knees thunk down to the floor.
Unsurprisingly, it seemed that Kylo Ren only appeared when he wanted to, only answered your thoughts when it suited him. You could scream his name into the void of your mind but you couldn’t force him there—couldn’t Force him there. Which was unfortunate for many reasons. Being capable of wielding the throat crushing, invisible fabric of the universe at your will would have come in handy in so many situations. As you rubbed your eyes and prepared to wallow more thoroughly in the mess your life had devolved into, something caught your eye amongst the sea of clothing.
From the Commander’s open bag, you could see something brighter amongst the masses of black fabric. Further inspection revealed that the item was shoved into the back pocket of his trousers and when you looked closer, it was clear what you were looking at.
Your underwear.
Your underwear was hidden away in Commander Ren’s luggage.
And in your half shocked, half strangled endeared state, a memory surfaced.
The night you’d spent writhing on your bed as Kylo sat, watching as the Force fucked you open. The image of him was clear in your head—a princely, demonic being refusing you the luxury of pleasure through his touch and taking your soaked panties along as a trophy when he was finished with you.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
You’d thought it was a dream then.
And wasn’t it? The lines between waking and fantasy were blurring more and more with every passing day. But Kylo hadn’t left. He was there when you woke, that you did recall clearly. But these were the same, still unwashed from all those nights ago.
Kylo had said there was a difference between dreaming and projecting, and to be fair you’d never been able to tell them apart. The Force was somehow involved. The same Force which seemed to have a questionable relationship with existing inside you. But it stood to reason, if someone as incompetent and disconnected as you could think yourself into Kylo Ren’s presence on very specific occasions, that he could do so whenever the hell he wanted.
And while the implications this knowledge had on all your other sexual escapades was at the forefront of your mind and burning your face to a crisp, another inkling was forming amongst the embarrassment.
If the Commander truly had projected himself—whatever that really meant—into your room to fuck you into oblivion without lifting a finger and kept what he’d taken, maybe you could do the same.
Maybe, sitting inside your coat pocket was your own dream contraband.
Crawling across the floor, you sifted through the mess at the foot of the bed until your hand felt something small and hard. Your breath stuttered in your chest as you pulled a familiar leather bound notebook from the pile and turned it over in your grip—hefty and solid and so very real in your hands.
Staring down at the book you were at once intensely excited and overwhelmingly terrified. Logically, you knew that you were alone here and free from prying eyes no matter how desperately you wished not to be, but delving into what promised to be the source for so many of your questions felt too risky in the open of your bedroom.
Quietly, you leaped over the bed and scrambled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and sliding down to the floor. Only then, with your back barricading you in with the tile cooling your heated skin, did you crack open the cover and begin to read the sloppy, looping scrawl across each page.
A picture began to form in your mind growing clearer with every passing page.
It was very much like reading the ramblings of a madman, and upon passing the first ten or so pages, your initial deduction of mad ravings only grew more accurate. The entries were similar to that of a diary, each one detailing a new piece of intel discovered. And just as you’d noted before, almost all of it had something to do with Kylo Ren.
And you’d thought you were a bit obsessive.
There were names you didn’t recognize, and some you did—members of the Order, high ranking and not, scattered about. Occasionally passages were quoted from what seemed to be incident reports and older texts of galactic history. And of course, there were consistent references to the ever mysterious Force. All of which were written in such personal detail that you could be certain they came from someone who, unlike you, could and knew how to use it.
The words were so jumbled, you had to reread each line and follow it like a hunting trail to the next running sentence. And the farther you got, the deeper you dived, the more you felt your insignificance looming—that tight in your throat feeling of being so small in the grand scheme of things.
In this scheme of things at least.
From what you could understand, all the events leading up to your assignment to Coruscant and everything that had transpired since your arrival all boiled down this: power and the struggle to possess it.
And at the center of it all was Atreus, Kylo Ren, and, inexplicably, you.
In this story, you began as nothing more than another pawn on the chess board. Your name appeared maybe twice in the entire first half of the nearly full notebook. You were a footnote, a name scribbled in the margins connected to the General due to your position. After that, it seemed Atreus had gotten his hands on some more confidential documents, dozens of them in fact judging from his lists. Some were immaterial and contributed nothing, but from what you could gather, buried amongst them were dozens of your correspondence all pertaining to the Commander and all of which more than hinting at the small grudge you carried for him.
He’d even quoted lines from you.
As you progressed, the text became even more garbled, the handwriting rushed and nearly illegible but it was easy enough to see where it was heading.
You were meant to be an example—of that you were certain. But not for the First Order, not because one Coruscanti representative wanted to stick it to its totalitarian overlords. Oh no, the threat of your death was meant as an example to Kylo Ren himself. It was a message, a lure, cast down from Atreus. When you first began to piece this together, it sounded intensely nonsensical.
Almost entirely due to the fact that this plan hinged on Commander Ren of all people, having a vested interest in your life. Which, up until very recently, you would have deemed impossible. If anything, you’d have guessed he would greatly benefit from your demise seeing as you were at best an annoyance and at worst a roadblock between him and forceful galactic takeover.
But then you reached that word.
Bond.
Scribbled over and bolded with arrows and circles. You still couldn’t truly grasp the gravity of what it meant, but looking it over again, you knew it was true. Whatever this thing was, between you and your Commander, this was its name. And having read the journal in its entirety, you understood now why that singular word had struck you so thoroughly to your core.
“You aren’t going to die.”
How many times had Kylo said that to you now?
And it was constructed to bring your downfall. This was exactly what it seemed Atreus was banking on. It seemed all this want, all this hypothermic, desperate searching for one another was manufactured. The sense of wholeness, a sham. The pit inside you, the anger, the balm of Kylo moving inside you—all orchestrated somehow to fit into this master plan to remove the Commander and take whatever he was standing in the way of.
Without this, you would have remained a nuisance swearing at Ren from across conference tables. Nothing more than a bug to be smashed against the wall and left to rot. And that sat terribly on your shoulders.
Just as the book fell from your hands and onto the tile floor, you heard a familiar rattling coupled by a crash from the room just outside. Heavy footsteps rang out against the floor and a door slammed.
Your name was called softly into the stillness. Just as you had called for him. A few moments of silence passed before you could answer, and when you did your voice felt strange in your mouth.
“In here,” you replied quietly, listening to his foot falls approach the door and come to a halt.
When you closed your eyes, you could almost hear his breath. Kylo paused at the door, the soft thump of his hand coming to rest against the wood the only other sound he made. You didn’t move from the floor and he made no attempt to open the door. The tingle at the back of your neck, the slight tugging of your strings, told you he could feel the thoughts racing in your head.
Only minutes ago you would have been relieved to feel the warm of him spreading slowly down your spine. Now it felt strangely soured. For a moment you thought he might rip open the door, maybe bend you over the vanity again and teach what happened when you called for him out line.
But he didn’t.
When you didn’t shift from your spot to step into his grasp, you felt him pull away and heard the rustling of sheets and clothing outside. You didn’t know what you would say to him now, so instead you got up slowly and turned the water on. The mirror fogged over as you stripped and tucked the little notebook away under your clothes so the steam didn’t seep into the pages.
You could wash now, you thought, and hopefully Kylo would have fallen asleep or left to stalk the halls again when you finished. Then you could buy yourself some time to think, unbothered by other prying eyes in your head.
You stepped into the stream and scrubbed your skin raw, and all while the little black book watched you from its place on the sink, ever plotting.
bro i feel like no one really talks about how good life would be after reader and kylo like ‘settled’ down a little when there is only a little angst and its domestic bliss (yknow kylos version of it at least) and kylo like cares so much for readers wellbeing heheh i just want to be kylos long term partner
OH boy I have a lot of thoughts about this at all times.
Warning: Softness ramblings ahead and very brief nsfw, tread lightly
I feel like there aren’t that many scenarios in which Kylo would ever have the opportunity to be like ‘domestic’, but like here’s what I’m thinking:
He’s known you for a long time now--years even--ever since he became Kylo Ren. Since he grew into this new life and left the past behind. Not to die, not really, because no matter how hard he’s tried, he can’t kill the past. It’s shaped him, molded him irreparably, made him what he is, but that doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.
Because you don’t care. Don’t care who he was before, don’t want to force him into going back to that. Turn him into something more palatable.
And he’s never met anyone else who wasn’t interested in changing him. His masters have only ever tried to weaponize his power, and the people from his old life want him to repent and come home and act as if they weren’t the ones who forced him down this path.
But not you. Never you.
You know everything and take it all and never turn away from the bloody horror of it.
Once, in the very beginning, you’d found him in one of the abandoned sectors after he’d poured his frustration out into the unserviced control panels. He’d failed again, something inane and not worth remembering, but he could still feel the sting of hot shame and rage that boiled just under his skin. He did remember the way you looked, though.
So soft in the harsh light of the hallway, not turning away not frozen with adrenaline, just standing and staring at the blood dripping from his hand where the durasteel had sliced his knuckles apart. He remembered the way your voice sounded too, echoing in the silence.
“You’re bleeding, sir,” you’d said and offered him a bacta patch.
You always carried little things like that, he’d later learned. Pens or first aid kits or ties for his hair. You seemed to collect little pieces of all the people around you. Always afraid of being unprepared, caught off guard. He was never sure where you kept it all.
It was all downhill from there. Kylo moves quickly, latches on and doesn’t let go easily. He wants to know everything about you, wants to make sure--not that you’re worthy of him, because deep down in the pit of his stomach he’s never felt worthy of anything or anyone--but needs to know that you can withstand him.
And of course you can.
He’s convinced that you might be the strongest person he’s ever known.
From the start of your involvement he wants you with him all the time--he still hesitates to call it a relationship, that’s too mundane, can’t even begin to encompass the intensity of what he feels for you. He wants you in his quarters waiting every night, wants to see you touch you, remind himself you’re real.
And you certainly don’t complain.
After years, because life in the First Order is a complicated mess of simply trying to stay alive, the two of you can finally settle down together.
Well, as much as Kylo and anyone who’d chose to spend their life with him could.
Which is to say not very much, but you do your best.
At this point, he’s climbed the ladder. Kylo’s the Supreme Leader or in whatever other position of power he’d won through sheer force of will and he has the luxury of keeping you by his side.
His version of domestic bliss is just that, being allowed to have you without it being a weakness. He wants to memorize everything about you, all the little things like how you fold your socks, what songs you’re always humming when you do mindless tasks, or the way you drape yourself over the back of the couch sometimes like a lounging cat.
His bliss is getting to feel your skin against his, hearing your voice whenever he wants.
And gods, he’s terrified of losing it.
Incredibly, churning in his gut afraid that something will go wrong, because shit doesn’t it always? He’s not allowed to have things like this, nice things, peaceful things, happy things, Kylo Ren does not get a good ending.
Really keeping you close to him is doubly important because as long as you’re in his sight, he can keep you safe.
And he only trusts himself with that most sacred of tasks, so when you go off base, Kylo is only ever a few paces behind if he’s not glued to your side. He follows you around like a shadow, and maybe that’s all he ever was--a shadow to your radiance. Because that’s what you are, glowing all the time in the light of his adoration.
You get frustrated with him sometimes, he knows that. He knows he can be overbearing and you think he doesn’t trust you on your own and it isn’t that but--
Well he’s never been good with words. Even after years with you he can’t always communicate what he wants or why he wants it or how badly. You’re entirely capable of taking care of yourself, he likes that about you, how competent you are. He values your intelligence, likes your humor and wit and how quick you can clap back in any situation.
So he does his best not to cage you, does his best to let you flourish and basks in the warmth of you. You’re never so angry with him that your arms don’t wind around his neck when he leans into you. Never so much that you don’t cry out for him when he inevitably finds himself entangled in your body, drowning in you and savoring every moment.
When Kylo allows himself attachment--as rare as that is--it’s forever.
And keeping you is the closest to domestic bliss he’ll ever get.
Please may I request 40 from the kisses prompt list: "A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them."
Hey there! Thank you so much for the request, I loved that prompt list. Kissing Kylo is probably my favorite hobby so I’m glad to write it. I actually wrote this while at work cause I couldn’t get it out of my head, so my apologies if there are mistakes, I generally never write on my phone❤️❤️
Prompt: “A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion with little regard for what’s going on around them”
Warnings: none, Kylo being slightly soft if you squint
Word count: 657
Your feet moved quicker, pounding harder against the durasteel with every step you took until your were sprinting in earnest.
It was only a minute ago that you’d seen the update come into the Bridge’s comms: Command Shuttle docking 0800 hours.
He was back.
Almost a month had passed with no word of his return and while you were loathe to admit it, you missed him terribly. Felt the ache of his absence in every facet of your body.
But the Commander was back and blessedly alive and you needed to see him for yourself, needed it like the hot blood rushing past your ears.
The hanger was fast approaching. You could see the massive ships as you ran, searching frantically for a glimpse of his stupidly dramatic robes and helmet. Something primal, seeping from the marrow in your bones compelled you forward despite the growing stitch in your side and the disdainful looks from fellow officers as you passed.
And then he was there, tunneling your vision until all you could see was the mass of black swirling fabric that was Kylo Ren.
“Commander!” you shouted, revealing in the way he spun around at the sound of your voice.
You would pay for this later, for this display you’re sure of that. Knew there would be punishment, knew there would be blood, but it didn’t matter now.
Didn’t matter when he was pulling the mask from his face—all lovely pale skin and freckles shimmering and dewy with sweat. Didn’t matter when your feet were suddenly leaving the floor of the hanger behind as you leaped into him, your chests like magnets finally released and fitting home. Didn’t matter when your legs hooked around his hips and your nose was buried in the moist, dark locks of his hair. Didn’t matter when he wasn’t throwing you off onto the cold floor.
Or when you pull back and his face fits so puzzle piece perfect in your palms and you can’t help but the surge of forward motion—momentum still flowing in your veins. His lips are so full and pink, unfairly so. They taste like blood and honey when you press yourself to them. It’s not graceful, your teeth click against his and your noses are smashed together.
But it’s delicious, delirious in its relief.
And it only grows deeper, the hanger and the engineers skittering about fade away at the edges not daring to look as his tongue slips into your mouth and floods you with the musky taste of his. You shiver when he growls into you and bites sharply at your bottom lip. You breathe from him, taking all he gives you. It’s sloppy and wet and quite possibly deranged but it’s marvelous.
When he finally tears himself away, your both panting, ribs creaking with the effort. There’s a ringing in your ears that grows fainter as the bustle of the hanger comes back into focus and Kylo’s eyes go glassy.
“My quarters,” he hisses. “One hour.”
And that’s all you get before his arms under you give out and your stumbling to the floor. He doesn’t give you a second glance, just replaces his helmet and marches off towards the Bridge leaving you to the hungry, scrutinizing stares of your coworkers. You scrambled off your ass and dust yourself off as discreetly as possible, bringing a hand up to your lips and feeling the essence of him left behind.
Your feet carry you once again down the hall. There are some things you’ll need to take care of before you’re inevitably incapacitated by whatever the Commander has planned for you. But you go with a certain skip in your step, a certain victory in your cheeks.
It would be well worth it, whatever the price you’d pay.
Because he was safe and you couldn’t think of another soul in the galaxy who could kiss Kylo Ren like that and walk away from it alive.
Hi, so I’m just gonna leave this here and pretend it didn’t take me for fucking ever to get this done. Also like real talk, my classes are starting up soon and I’m working multiple jobs so updates from here on out might get a little sparse. I AM BY NO MEANS GOING TO STOP WRITING IT. Just like, it’s gonna take me awhile or the chapters might be shorter, who knows (not me). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this shit show and if you have any theories about where the hell this is going or critiques or just general explicit thoughts about Kylo please hit me up! I love you all, I hope you’re staying safe and healthy <3333
AO3 Mirror
Part 5
Warnings: nsfw, mirror sex, male masturbation, unconscious reader so not dub-con but just so you know, Kylo’s POV in some parts, I threw in some size kink if you squint cause he’s a big boy, possessive Kylo, slight boot kink, I think that’s it?
Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!reader
Word count: 9.4k (god I’m so sorry this really got away from me)
He was looking at you.
Really looking at you.
Hadn’t until now.
But that wasn’t completely true. Of course he’d looked at you—noticed you, heard all the dagger sharp curses you threw his way like a child put in the corner impertinent and prideful and intoxicating in a way that pain often is. So, yes of course he’d looked, but you hadn’t been important.
And that was not to say that you were important now, just that—
Just that the sea was churning behind him, crashing against the shoreline and the Force was stirring. It was a wild thing, and sung like the insects hiding in the nearby treeline. He could feel the pull of it, like a chain that swung in the small space between your bodies. Connecting your throats—growing every shorter—rubbing him raw and bloody.
It was in you, whatever it was that tethered him like a boat to the harbor.
He was inside you too
“No one will ever feel like I do.”
That’s what you’d said.
You were right, as much as he was loath to admit it, no one had ever felt the way you did clenching around him.
There was something primal that made him ravenous to pour himself into you. He was always too much too full to angryangryangry every waking second. Now, finally, it all had some place to go. Some well to fill—a space for all his extra self to belong.
For once, he found there was nothing more than the sound of the sea inside his head.
He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that revelation.
Who were you? What were you hiding and where was it buried?
Kylo needed to know and you were there, already limp and pliant with no jumbled slur of raging thoughts to cloud his path.
He found that slipping into your mind was one of the easiest things he’d ever done, like following the current of flowing water. Drifting in as if carried by the waves.
Flashes of memories rushed past him, mostly just amalgamations of indecipherable emotion—fathoms of pent up aggression Kylo was forced to wade through in order to reach the black depths of your head. At every turn he was met with his own face staring back at him.
He saw his saber, swinging in a red arch into durasteel paneling, saw himself through your eyes. Felt your awe, felt the stirring in your chest at the sight. He pushed on.
Past shots of offices he’d never seen, a barrage of falsely smiling faces, teeth gnashing, always hungry. He was walking down an endless grey hallway lined with First Order uniforms all towering over him—you—looking down, casting judgement like arrows in his back. Frustration morphed and twisted into a thick sludge of resentment that bubbled and clung to his feet.
With every pop a voice escaped, shouting “everything, everything, everything” in a sick, distorted roar.
And then he found it, the source of the muck that caked his path. A pit, deep and black as pitch that spit up it’s roiling contents and dragged him tumbling down, down, down.
He could barely make it out at first, but as he fell the dim red glow grew bright, crackling and electric and throwing sparks. At the bottom of the well the light bloomed like a pyre, some flaming effigy of pure potential. The heat of it licked at his skin, tracing the edges of every scar like it knew them.
Maybe it did.
Something like a shockwave rolled out through the Force, and he backed away from the raging flames. Back, back, back until he was kneeling again on the shoreline, your cooling body still pressed firmly to his chest.
The feeling of your weight, not cold and dead, but with life still in your limbs was alien to him. Kylo battled internally with the instinct to throw you off him to the ground. He could leave you here, go and wait or never come back at all.
It would be easy.
He could see it now:
Your face twisted, lips pulled back and teeth bared like you weren’t half his size. Like he couldn’t snap your neck with a wave of his hand. He imagined you naked, covered in dried blood and bruises bursting onto your balcony, tits on full display and your finger in his chest, vitriol spewing from your mouth.
It was comical really, how you puffed up like an animal threatened, small but vicious.
Yet even as he considered the scene, his aching knees were unlocking and shifting you, soft cock slipping out in a gush of your combined releases. Kylo swung your legs easily over one arm and climbed back up the beach towards your room.
The sun was starting to rise over the sea, casting gilded strips along its surface when he laid your limp form on the bed. Your skin was marbled with the evidence of your coupling and shone in the light.
Kylo stood silently above you, the ocean breeze occasionally ruffling his damp hair as he brought a hesitant hand to his jaw. The skin was swollen from when you’d raised your hand to him. His fingers dug into the bruise, and the stinging ache of it made his cock twitch. Your face, twisted and snarling and so defiant, so foolish, inches from his before your palm cracked across his cheek.
He dropped a hand down, stroking his half hard length and remembering how your thighs felt crushing his ribcage between them. His hips twitched up into his hand in slow, languid thrusts, precum and your residual slick easing the slide of his palm.
You weren’t afraid to fight back.
Kylo’s teeth tore at his bottom lip as he pumped his cock in earnest now.
You weren’t afraid of him , he realized. But you should be.
Especially now with how his mind was supplying all the numerous ways he could beat you into submission—fuck you into submission. God he’d love to watch you crack, it would truly be a feat worthy of celebration to break the will of a creature such as yourself.
But he couldn’t deny—certainly not while he’s jerking himself faster thinking of how delicious your wet cunt felt around him—that he liked when you bit back.
His name rolling off your tongue was ricocheting around in his brain and he was sure it was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard in his life, that he would never get enough of it. He’d known that since the very first time he heard it, when you opened yourself up to him and came in his mouth, on his fingers.
A familiar warmth was building in his stomach as he thought of all the ways he could make you say it again. Thought of dipping into your head and erasing everything else but that. So it was the only word you knew.
That sent him, made him spill over his hand, white ropes of his cum painting your breasts. You looked good like that, he thought as he worked himself through his orgasm, breath rasping in his chest.
When he was well and truly spent, he let his overstimulated cock settle back against his thigh and dropped a hand to your chest. His palm spanned nearly the entire width of you, fingers swirling in the mess of his release and rubbing it into your abused skin until you were perfectly glazed in him. The sheen of it glinted in the light, a reminder that you’d been marked and would never know how completely he coated every inch of your body.
Even as the darkness whispered into his mind that this was potential, this was uncharted, this was the dragon that hid in the corners of ancient maps filled with unknown stars, Kylo didn’t tear his eyes away. Didn’t pull his hand from your breast where his fingers dug into the flesh and made their home.
Not until the sun had fully risen and you began to stir from the Force induced sleep he’d buried you under.
Not until the very last moment.
***
You woke to the sound of rushing water. It was dim though, out of focus like an echo nearly faded away. Your eyes were lead in your skull, struggling against opening to the soft light filtering into—
Well into where you weren’t exactly sure.
Thoughts were elusive and seemed to slip from your grasp or sit constantly out of reach. Details stood blurry behind a layer of foggy confusion. It was as if your brain had been frozen and restarted like one of the old monitors on the Bridge, leaving important documents to close improperly. You pushed incessantly against the film that seemed to separate you from full awareness until, finally, it popped and the world came flooding in.
Light, bright and all encompassing was stinging your eyes through the open balcony doors. The smell of salt and sand and sweat was everywhere. You were laying on your bed, the spot next to you cold and vacant—never occupied. Your chest and bare thighs were sticky as you peeled them apart and tried to sit up, feeling the uncomfortable squelch of something leaking from you onto the sheets.
And then you ached.
The deep kind of pain that extends past your muscles and sent nerves misfiring with every movement. There was not a single inch of you free from the pulsating burn of it. You laid out flat on the mattress, moving your head as slowly as possible to take stock of the damages. Bruises littered you, mottled you in painful stripes. With every new mark catalogued another memory drifted to the surface:
Hips, his hands surrounding your waist to lift you clear off the ground, his cock slipping ever deeper inside.
Breasts, where the Force and his fingers had cupped and palmed and rolled pleasure into your flesh.
Chest, his bitten nails that scratched large welts which stung when you breathed in.
Legs, how he’d ripped you through the churning water and pressed deep into the meat of your thighs.
Neck, you could feel the dull throb of where he’d bitten into the skin, sucked hard and marked you with a small supernova of broken capillaries.
But the sting between your legs topped the rest. He truly had split you in half, his cock massive and leaving you clenching to your very core in its absence. His cum still dripped out of you in a slow stream. If this was the recompense you bore, there was no telling what he must look like.
You recalled the sole of your foot connecting with muscle and bone, the crack of your palm on his sculpted cheeks.
The way his mouth tasted, the fullness of his lips and how warm he was pressed against you with no space in between. The desperation for him, the sweet sting of him moving inside you, sinking into you, the fullness, the absolution. The presence of him not just in your body but in your mind, in your being, the relief of it—like the first breath after years of asphyxiation.
You could feel him still, you realized, a tingle at the back of your neck. A soft, comforting thump when you closed your eyes. Like a heartbeat. Kylo Ren’s heartbeat, faint but present, evidence of mortal flesh and blood. Your head on his chest, his voice a hush under the roaring sea.
“You aren’t going to die.”
It felt like a promise, and maybe it was.
But really, how long could you expect him to keep it?
And that was just the first of many questions. So many questions.
The sound of water was not the ocean, but the shower you realized and it filled the room with a hazy steam from the crack in the door. You thought about joining him for just a second, indulged in the idea of seeing him bare. Seeing the wounds he bore, the ones he let you put there.
But there was no time for that now, unfortunate though it was.
Instead, you tumbled out of bed onto shaky knees that nearly gave way as you looked around for something to cover yourself with, grabbing the first piece of clothing available. It was Kylo’s, you noticed as you tugged the massive black shirt over your head and watched it fall well past your thighs.
It smelled like him. You tried not to think about it too much.
You sifted through the mess of clothing on the floor and finally located your bag and datapad, tripping over yourself to crawl back onto the mattress. New messages flashed on the screen, although strangely none originating from the First Order. Each one another of Gahl’s staff asking you for speech revisions to be approved by the advisory committee and the last one a reminder of the day’s worth of meetings with campaign staff.
You shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t really the meetings themselves that bothered you, that was routine, muscle memory at this point. But it was harder now, harder to sit still and spit out pretty fake chuckles to every pompous politician's horrid sense of humor, harder to slip in silent ultimatums when there was a knife positioned squarely at your back. When you could never truly tell who would be the one to twist the blade or at what point you would have outlasted your usefulness.
At what point it was your turn to become the next example of what pride does to the body.
No amount of whispered half covenants would be able to stop that, regardless of which masked, saber-wielding commander they came from.
Sighing, you tried to quell the constriction in your throat and typed away quick, formulaic responses. A few minutes passed until you heard the shower putter out and the soft sounds of the Commander dressing. He didn’t look at you when he pulled the door open and stepped into the room, shirtless this time and sporting a dark purple starburst that dipped below the waistband of his pants and circled over the ‘v’ of his hips.
You tensed at the memory of your bodies twisting in the surf and glanced away as he silently dug through his discarded clothes.
“That looks like it hurts,” you said, just to break the uncomfortable quiet.
Kylo regarded you in your seat by the headboard, eyes narrowing just a bit when he straightened and crossed the room. He stood by your side, taking the hem of his shirt between his fingers for just a second.
You felt him hum in your head, not nearly as loud as it was the night before, but still there—a pleasant weight in your chest. He liked the look of you drowning in his clothes. Liked the way you disappeared into them. Liked the reminder of how you fit well in the space he left behind. Felt his hand rip away like it had been burned.
“It doesn’t,” he said and turned his back to you.
As if you could hurt him.
You felt yourself flush at his response, electing to simply watch as he plucked another top from one of the piles and tugged it over his head. You lamented silently at the loss, earning you a sharp glare from the man in question. Well, at least he was giving you some indication now that he heard you.
“Yes,” he sighed, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. “You’re incredibly loud.”
Crossing your legs, you sat the datapad aside and leaned back against the headboard.
“Oh, well my apologies,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m not exactly familiar with how this works.”
He scoffed at your hand gesturing between the two of you, “I’m well aware.”
“Is being as aggravating as possible a personal goal of yours or something?”
Kylo’s hand shot out, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down the bed. Before you had the chance to register the stab of pain that accompanied the sudden movement, you were situated firmly on his lap, thighs spread uncomfortably on either side of his hips.
“Is being a defiant little brat one of yours?” he retorted, one hand gripping hard on your jaw.
You tensed your legs against the searing ache and dug one of your knees into the bruise on his side, “Only for you, sir.”
The hand on your jaw slipped down to wrap around your throat, clamping down on the vein there and you felt the surge of blood that rushed to his dick at the memory those words elicited. He liked them in your mouth, he couldn’t hide that anymore and it frustrated him, enraged him that you smiled at the thought. Stars, you supposed if you kept mouthing off like that Atreus would have to speed things up before Ren killed you for him.
Kylo’s fingers twitched around your neck, eyes flicking to the mark he’d left on the joining of your throat and shoulder which had slipped entirely from his shirt. He seemed to be debating with himself before dropping his head and sucking the abused skin back into his mouth.
Your fingers slipped instinctively into his hair. Whether you were trying to yank him off or push him closer, you weren’t sure but then his jagged teeth sunk into the worried flesh and you whined like something wild at the display of dominance and acknowledgment that last night had been more than just another dream.
When Kylo finished with you, he stayed soothing cool mint breaths into the sensitive skin under his lips. You wanted to ask him what it meant—the mark, the beach, the newly filled to the brim, shaking in your fingers feeling blooming into existence in the intercostal spaces of your ribs—but you knew he’d never answer that.
Luckily, the waiting game was your specialty. There was no one better than you at playing the long con. He’d crack eventually, they always did. So you hid your ace and plaid something a bit safer.
“How did I find you in the hall last night?”
The Commander huffed against you, lifting his head to nip sharply at your earlobe.
“Projecting,” he conceded.
“What does that mean?”
His hands drifted to your hips, digging in and forcing you off his lap and onto the floor. The wood dug into your knees and pressed valleys into the skin. Kylo motioned with a hand and his boots obediently floated over and settled in front of you kneeling between his legs. You frowned as he stared down at you blankly and his command dawned on you.
“Really?” you asked, unable to keep the incredulity off of your tongue.
He lifted his brows and rolled his lips together, and you found yourself understanding with terrifying clarity what that meant. If you were going to play games so would he, and Kylo’s preferred method always seemed to be humiliation in some form.
Jokes on him, you thought with a shrug. You had very little dignity left to be squashed under his boots which you ripped from the air by your head. His feet were massive, nearly the size of your thigh as you slipped one into the rough leather.
“Consciousness can be detached from the physical body,” Kylo explained.
His voice lacked any of its usual rasp or vitriol, he was simply saying the words, not forcing them out. You thought he’d make a good teacher if he wasn’t such an—
The boot in your lap ground down harshly into the especially sore spot between your thighs covered only by his thin black shirt. Your cunt ached as he pressed the toe of his boot into your clit. Gritting your teeth against the pain, you kept your mouth shut and nodded for him to continue, pulling taught all the laces from his ankle to calf. The muscles were impossibly hard under your fingers
“The Force can allow you to take advantage of that separation,” he continued, swapping feet when you’d finished the first, “so physically you remained here, and your consciousness was able to project elsewhere.”
Your hands guided his foot past the leather straps and hastened through the last few laces. When the last was tied off, you tried to knock his leg to the side, but he pressed it back between your legs, smearing you with rocky earth and grinding his heel once more on your slit.
“So everything we overheard then, that was real?” you continued, voice strained as you squirmed out of his reach. Shockingly, he let you.
Kylo shrugged examining your slick stain on the leather, “Projection involves a real place and time. Dreams are more abstract.”
You nodded, pulling the fabric tighter around your knees.
“What did he mean?” you asked quietly.
You were pushing your luck, pushing his buttons really but he should be expecting that by now. He owed you this, reparations for months of workplace abuse.
Kylo stared at you, his erection still obscenely on display from your view on the floor.
“Atreus, he said I was ‘in your head,’” you elaborated and Kylo nearly kicked your teeth in with how quickly he stood.
“That’s enough,” he grunted.
You watched on the ground as he walked out onto the balcony. The wind combed through the black waves on his head revealing whitecaps of pale, freckled profile to peek out. You decided to quit while you were ahead, letting him stew. This was the most he’d ever spoken to you in the years you’d worked as his one-woman political clean up crew. Maybe you’d celebrate when there wasn’t a hit out on you.
Stretching out, your eyes caught his mask staring at you dead and resolute from the small night stand. It was heavier than you expected, lined with deep ridges and scars just like the man who wore it.
Head wounds were almost always fatal. Just one blow to the soft flesh of the temple and that was it, end of discussion. They taught you that at the academy. Always aim for the head. You traced the cracks on its carbon black surface and tried to imagine all the people who’d aimed for the Commander’s head, aimed to land the killing blow and failed. You thought of his toothpaste sitting in the vanity in the bathroom. You thought of the bruises on his chest and the blood that had pooled under his pretty skin to cause them. You thought of Kylo Ren dying.
You put the helmet down, pulled yourself off the floor and left Ren to his thoughts.
The bathroom was still thick with steam when you started the shower running. You stripped his shirt from your back and folded it on the sink before stepping in. The hot water felt glorious as it pounded the soreness from your skin. Your fingers brushed carefully over the abstract painting of bruises, the mark on your neck particularly stark in your hazy reflection in the wall of mirrors facing the shower.
You should have expected the Commander would enjoy marking his territory.
Not that you were in any way his territory.
The idea of it certainly didn’t cause a shiver to run down your spine.
When you’d washed the silt and grime down the drain and dried yourself, you left the bathroom and dressed quietly. Your outfit was professional and understated, not drawing the eye and covering last nights events without being suspiciously modest. Kylo didn’t move or speak until you drifted out to the balcony to commune before your meetings began. You leaned against the rail next to him.
“Do you know anything about him?” you asked, gazing out at the waves as the rose and crashed and rose again.
“No,” he responded, and you were thankful you didn’t have to say the name.
It felt greasy in your mouth.
“Right,” your eyes closed against the salty wind, “well I suppose I’ll do some digging then. Know thy enemy and all that.”
He glanced at you, a full once over and nodded in dismissal. You shook your head and turned to head out, shouting back to him over your shoulder.
“Remember,” only your head remained peeking through the crack in the door, “don’t leave this room.”
The door slammed behind you with a crack. Well, he was developing a pattern to say the least, you thought as you wandered down the hall to the drawing room.
***
You did your best to conceal the limp in your step as you entered, slipping easily into the small crowd of legislative staffers and scanning the room. Gahl was nowhere to be seen and neither was his ‘advisor.’ Immediately you felt a weight lifted off your shoulders. You consistently spent among crowds of men who frequently murdered people for political gain, however, you’d miscalculated how much harder it would be to keep your cool when your life was the one on the line.
The room was bright and airy, a small table was lined with furiously dainty finger food which you perused but found no appetite for. You sighed and moved on, trying to decide which inane conversation to insert yourself into when one found you first.
“Good morning,” an increasingly familiar voice spoke from behind you.
You turned to find Lem crossing the room and leaving behind a group of idly chatting aides.
“Hello,” you plastered a smile on your face in greeting as he saddled up. “The Representative chose not to grace us with his presence I see.”
He chuckled, “You really do get right down to business don’t you?”
“That is why I’m here,” you picked a tea sandwich off the table and popped it into your mouth just for the sake of the gesture. It tasted like sand in your mouth.
“Well then, I suppose I don’t mind skipping the pleasantries if you won’t think less of me for it,” Lem conceded and turned to stand next to you, surveying the crowd.
“In fact, I might think more of you.”
You followed suit, taking in the gaggles of people as your new companion passed you a glass of something fruity and expensive.
“Well in that case,” he took a sip and tucked a piece of yellow hair behind his ear, “you’d be correct in your assumption, the old man’s been called away on important campaign related business.”
“Would I be right in assuming you know more than you’re letting on?”
Lem glanced down at you from the corner of his eye and took a sip of his drink, “I think we’re both seasoned enough players of this game to know the answer to that.”
You hummed in concession, “Can you blame me for trying?”
“No,” he admitted easily. “But considering the fact you’ve been casing me like a house for robbery I would have hoped that conclusion would have come faster.
“I don’t know what you consider ‘casing,’ but I think you might be inflating yourself a bit there Mr. Alba,” you retorted, taking a sip and jolting a bit as the sweetness hit your tongue.
“A politician's assistant with an enlarged ego? Never.”
“Aren’t you a little too self aware to be in politics?”
Beside you, Lem laughed in earnest and you frowned, looking up at him. He wasn’t nearly as large as the Commander, so your neck wasn’t forced nearly to it’s breaking point in the process.
“You’re funny,” he said by way of explanation. “I didn’t think you’d be funny.”
“I’m just as shocked as you are,” you mumbled as a group of people bypassed you out into the hall.
“Well, you’re right,” Lem shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t initially intend on ending up in government work.”
That was interesting. You felt yourself falling back into an old rhythm. Maybe Lem was onto something—if you wanted to get to Gahl, what better place to start than with the assistant. After all, if anyone wanted to know all the dirt on Hux, you were certainly the best person to ask. Why would this be any different?
“Is that so?” you prodded, hoping he’d continue on his own.
Of course he did. These people loved to talk about themselves.
“The Representative was a family friend and I was but a directionless youth bringing shame upon our good name,” he lamented, gesturing dramatically to a false, sympathetic audience.
“Was it kindness or pity then?” you asked, smiling and nodding to one of the campaign managers when she dipped behind you for a fruit tart.
Lem huffed out a laugh again and shook his head, “Gahl wasn’t always like this, I recall him being far more benignant when I first started.”
You latched on to the remorse in his tone: a soft spot in the apple. A perfect opportunity for you to worm your way in and feast on the flesh.
“It's an occupational hazard, really,” you glanced at his profile through your lashes and caught the faintest twinkle of vulnerability in the set of his jaw, “the constant power struggle drains one dry of any remaining empathy.”
“Hm, that’s certainly part of it,” Lem continued and downed the rest of his drink. “But he hasn’t really changed all that much until this election season.”
You’d broken the skin, now it was time to dig a bit deeper.
“Gahl seems pretty cut and dry, from what I can tell,” you locked your thighs against the growing ache between them from standing too still for too long, “what would you say has changed?”
“Well in all the years I’ve spent working for him, I’ve never known the man to run a smear campaign, not like this one at least. Really you should have seen the ads we ran for him, absolutely brutal,” Lem was nearly ranting now, and it seemed you’d struck the nerve you’d been searching for. “And, I mean no offense, but he’d certainly never have interacted more with the Order than was strictly necessary, much less agree to meet with your Commander what-ever-his-name-is personally.”
God you wished Commander what-ever-his-name-is Ren was around to hear that. The look on his face alone would be better than any orgasm he could give you.
“No, no, I wouldn’t do any business with us either if I could help it,” you conceded and handed Lem a second glass.
“You’re very gracious, thank you,” he accepted the drink and sighed.
You tried your best not to sympathize, but you were weak and soft and couldn’t quite help the pang in your chest. As lukewarm as you were about Lem Alba, you could see the bags under his eyes and the sallow pallor to his skin and you knew the look he wore too well.
Damn your occasional need to not be a total piece of shit.
“Trust me, I understand your frustration,” you let out a sigh of your own.
Commanding officers were a trial.
“And not to mention, ever since he brought on that new advisor, he’s had no need for any of my input,” Lem grumbled, pinching the bridge of his round nose.
Well, never mind, maybe your horrible lack of apathy was going to come in handy.
“The slimy one?”
He turned to look down at you with an incredulous smile, “Yeah, that’s the one.”
“What does he call himself?”
“Atreus,” Lem said, rolling his eyes. “Although I’m sure that’s not his real name. He seems to get off on being dark and mysterious.”
You could think of another person who fit that description, and both of them had wanted you dead on at least one occasion you were certain.
“Hm,” you nodded in agreement, “any idea where he came from?”
“None such luck, he just came crawling out of the woodwork one day a few months ago and well, you’ve seen the result,” he shrugged and finished off his second glass, taking yours from your hand and setting them off to the side. “Now, fancy a walk on the beach? I believe it’s my turn to take a crack at hunting for information.”
For a moment, you contemplated the likelihood that you were being played, that Lem was some elaborate plant and today was the day of your demise. But holding you hostage leagues away from crowds would invariably ensure your death would be wasted. Couldn’t stick it to the Order if there was no one around to watch. And not to stroke your own dick, but you were very well versed in picking up on genuine animosity towards superiors.
“I’m not entirely sure what you could possibly want to know that I have the answers to,” you said and turned to face him, “but I would love the excuse to skip a meeting.”
The sand was warm between your toes when you stepped onto the shore. A breeze stirred and kicked up the granules which bit at your skin. Lem walked beside you in silence for a while, swinging his loafers in his hand. You looked out at the water, mind flashed with reluctant images of two bodies, bare and bruised, rolling in the surf.
“What’s it like?” your companion finally said, pulling you from your not so work appropriate thoughts.
“What’s what like?”
You turned to see Lem shaking his head and looking down at his feet.
“Working for the Order,” he clarified and you couldn’t stop the scoff before it blew past your lips.
“Do you seriously expect me to believe that’s what you really wanted to ask me?”
Lem held up a hand in surrender and swung to face you, “I promise, I’m being perfectly honest.” When you didn’t say anything, he continued, tone much softer under the crashing waves. “Are you always this mistrustful?”
You were certain that was meant to be a rhetorical question, but it triggered a bit of uncomfortable introspection. The answer was clearly yes, that was a given, a requirement. Of course you were, everyone who played the game of politics and treaties and thinly veiled threats was constantly waiting for someone to change loyalties at the flip of a switch. That was the rules, no one ever trusted anyone else father than they could shoot them. Alliances only worked when the playing parties were mutually benefitting or consistently in the other’s line of fire.
Truthfully, you hadn’t trusted a single soul since your academy days, and even that was questionable. You couldn’t trust your staff to do their jobs right, and the only conversations they ever had with you was nothing more than ass kissing lacking in both subtlety and class. The higher ups used you as a convenient garbage dump for all their internal screw ups.
Any human interaction you’d had during your time in negotiations was—stripped down to its roots—simply because someone wanted something from you.
Intentions mattered, anyone who said otherwise was only kidding themselves.
“Work is fine, pay is good,” you kept your tone short, “why do you ask?”
“Just curious, I always wondered what it would be like to work for them.”
“Well, I’d say it’s exactly what you’d expect,” you backed quickly away from the incoming tide, trying not to ruin any more clothing that you already had.
“I don’t know,” Lem shrugged and followed you farther up the beach, “I figured it would be more exciting than this.”
He gestured around vaguely at the villa and the ocean. Your balcony visible from here, you realized. Soon the two of you would walk right across the patch of sand where you and the Commander had tumbled desperately into each other. When you had—
“It isn’t,” you quickly nipped that train of thought in the bud. “Just the same sport on a bigger playing field.”
“You’re not doing a very good job of representing your product,” Lem quipped.
“Well thankfully I’m a diplomat, not a salesman.”
You were standing right by the path to your rooms now, in between the parted grass you could still see the imprints of massive feet. Kylo must have carried you back last night, cold and wet and debauched. You could almost see him, muscles in his back rippling, your weight barely registering as he walked on legs like tree trunks up the small incline. The water would be dripping off his hair, coating each pretty strand and leaching away its softness.
“Isn’t it all the same evil though,” Lem mused, pausing next to you on the beach, completely unaware of what the sand here had witnessed only a few hours ago.
“Depends on what you define as evil.”
You wondered if Kylo could see you now, if he could hear you—really hear you. Wondered if you’d ever get to know what went on inside his head. Wondered if you’d even want to. Maybe that made you evil. Or maybe you were just weak.
“I think you’d know better than me,” Lem was staring off at the water when you turned and his neat hair parted with the breeze.
“Why’s that?” you asked, facing back to stare into the window to your room, hoping to catch a glimpse of something.
Just something.
“Well homicide isn’t included in my negotiating arsenal for one thing,” he huffed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.
“I’ve never killed anyone.”
You didn’t know why you whispered the words, didn’t know why you said them at all, but there they were drifting out to sea like a rudderless ship.
“Why not?”
“Never had too,” you said simply, “not directly at least.”
Lem hummed thoughtfully, “But would you?”
You were still staring up at the curtain covered window.
“Is that what you think evil is?”
“That’s what I think devotion is,” Lem replied simply. “The evil is in refusing.”
A shadow passed across the glass, tall and menacing and real.
“I don’t know,” you said finally, after a moment of silence.
“Don’t know what?”
You shook your head, “I don’t know if I would kill someone, personally I mean.”
“Fair enough,” the sound of skipping shells rang out behind you as Lem spoke, “I don’t think anyone really knows until the knife is in their hand and the throat is under it.”
You aren’t going to die.
You could hear Kylo’s voice and the crashing of the sea—or maybe it was something else, something else entirely that was churning around you. Something red and crackling.
An act of devotion.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
***
You could feel his eyes on you the second you returned. It was well into the night after a day of meetings that ran too long. But one quick scan of the room and you came up empty of brooding men in flowing black robes. Despite his lack of physical presence, you swore you could feel staring, tracking the uneven movement of your legs as you took a step further from the door.
Kylo Ren was here somewhere, you could feel the weight of him, filling up all the extra space in the air.
The sullen feeling of being watched followed you, making your skin flush with gooseflesh, while you stood in the middle of the room. Something moved in the shadows of the balcony. You caught just a twitch from the corner of your vision, the heel of boot pulled back into the dark.
So that’s where he was hiding. Or maybe lurking was a more appropriate word for it.
When your eyes had adjusted to the low light of the moon, you could just barely make him out. Kylo was nothing more than a dark silhouette against the horizon, leaning back against the rail of the balcony. You couldn’t see his face, but you could easily imagine the blank, drawn expression. The regal tilt of his jaw and the sculpted profile of his prominent nose. The slight peek of his ears between dark waves of hair.
You paused for a moment, debating whether or not you cared enough to fill him in on what you’d gathered that morning. Lem had been more forthcoming with you for the rest of the day after your heart to heart and you’d been able to create a halfway decent profile of your target by the end of your last meeting. But there was palpable tension in the room that you couldn’t quite place, and it felt like one wrong step might find you backed up against the wall, feet dangling and throat crushed in an invisible grip.
Turning, you sat yourself gingerly on the edge of the bed and pulled off your shoes. When you dropped them to the ground though, you heard the rustling of paper. Scattered on the floor was the tattered remains of a padded envelope. You frowned, picking up one of the scraps to try and make out the writing.
Your name was scrawled in messy print, torn halfway through.
It was only when you noticed the small shreds of fabric littered among the mess that you realized what you were holding.
“I’ll have one of the aides send for some seaside appropriate attire, you might find you’d like to go for a swim.”
“Let me know,” he cleared his throat, “if that’s not the right fit. I can have another sent up.”
It was the package Lem had given you days ago. You’d nearly forgotten about the awful conversation with Gahl your first night on Coruscant. Some part of you was glad you’d never have to see it in one piece, the memory of his hand on your thigh still made you gag.
You grabbed a piece of the ruined material and felt the rough outline of lace under your fingertips.
From the balcony there came the sound of shuffling boots as Ren adjusted himself and turned away from you to look out over the sea.
“You really shouldn’t open mail that isn’t addressed to you, sir,” you mumbled under your breath, but got no response.
In fact, the entire room was littered with the remnants of your gift from the representative. You wondered how long he’d been sitting there sulking over it. Something in your chest swelled at the thought of him, eye twitching just before he ripped the garment to shreds. You could hear the shout that would have torn through his throat.
Really, he fucks you once and he’s already jealous? Very unprofessional.
The thought did wonders for your ego.
And wreaked havoc on your incredibly sore pussy, that clenched involuntarily against a new rush of warmth.
But however much sick pride you took in exposing the Commander’s inability to control himself, you couldn’t shake the twinge of annoyance that bubbled constantly under the surface of your mind whenever Kylo Ren was involved.
The boots, the cryptic half answers, the unclear label for whatever the hell had happened between the two of you buried in each other on the sand— that was one thing.
But this was a slippery slope and you weren’t one for simply riding along without question.
“Tell me what you want.”
That’s what he always said, be a shame if Ren couldn’t hold himself to the same standards.
Without bothering to look back at him, you stood back up from the bed, proudly displayed at the center of the room.
Slowly you lifted your arms, pulling away your top and letting it drop with a soft thump to the floor. You didn’t see him turn at the sound, but you felt it. Could sense where his eyes alighted on your bare back. They lit fiery trails wherever he paused on the blooms of broken blood vessels under your skin. You did your best not to shudder under his stare.
You worked slowly, peeling each layer off piece by piece. Made a show of it, ran your fingers along the soft skin of your arms and gave him a lovely view of your ass when you bent down to roll off your socks. You could hear the catch in his breath so faint under the sound of the wind, and wondered if he could see the wetness glinting off your thighs in the low light.
Wondered if he could smell it on you.
Never once did you turn to face him, waiting until you were completely bare to walk ever so slowly into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open behind you. Flicking on the soft lights you started the shower with a frustratingly shaky hand. Warm water rushed through the pipes and drowned out any sound from the main room.
You stepped past the two tile walls that blocked off the shower and let the stream of water tumble over you. It poured like a waterfall, cocooning you in the stream of it. You waited patiently to see what the Commander would do, if he’d take the bait.
Of course he did.
You didn’t have to wait for very long.
He took up the entire doorway when he entered, a massive wall of muscle and sinew that towered over you in a way no one ever had before.
It was thrilling.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, voice low and layered with poorly restrained need.
Kylo was still fully clothed, but the hard outline of his cock was clear against his thigh. You let the water run over your breasts, cupping them as though you were one of those ornate stone fountains.
“What does it look like?”
He rolled his lips, “All I see is a whore who has no idea what she’s getting herself into.”
He was right, you didn’t. But you wanted it anyway.
“Hmm,” you nodded. “So why don’t you show me?”
You stepped out of the water, leaving puddles behind as you crossed over to him, standing just out of arm's reach. Kylo’s fingers clenched at his sides, his neck tilted down to stare at the water running down your chest.
What happened next was not at all what you’d expected.
You’d thought he might snap the way he often did, might yell or bend you over the vanity and give you even more marks that would smart in the morning. But he did none of that.
Instead he lifted a single hand, his arm impossibly long and reaching you despite the distance. The second his fingertips landed on your skin, the world went black.
You felt like you were falling, your stomach doing flips as you tumbled through darkness. Everything was coming in flashes. Your feet—well no not yours, Kylo’s you realized—sticking in viscous black sludge that clung in sticky trails along the skin of your—his—legs.
A pit, gaping and horrible.
Something burning, something blistering and crackling and raging red. It rose above you, flowing strangely like liquid sloshing and rolling like a flash flood and you staggered back. Something was rushing by your ears, light blurring in front of your eyes like a ship just about to jump into hyperspace. All of sudden, you were hurtled back into the present gasping and pitching forward into the Commander’s solid chest.
He didn’t push you away, just stood as you breathed him in and tried to plant your feet firmly on the ground.
“What was that?”
Your voice sounded so small after the intense roaring of whatever he’d shown you. Kylo’s hand threaded into the hair at the base of your skull and yanked back until your knees buckled under the force and you hung limply from his grip.
“You would do well to listen when I say you have no idea what’s at stake here,” he hissed and you clawed at his hands.
“Maybe if you bothered to explain it to me, I’d be more inclined to agree!”
He shook you violently and you tried to kick your feet under you but the slick tiles offered no leverage. Kylo dropped a hand, fumbling with the button on his pants.
“I think you’re far too busy parading yourself around like the little slut you are.”
In one smooth motion, he freed his cock from the confines of his trousers. It was just as massive as you remember, red and leaking white beads of precum. He gave it two long strokes, holding you at eye level with his dick.
You really ought to keep your mouth shut, but despite the pain in your scalp, your cunt was clenching at the sight of rock hard and weeping for you.
“Am I a slut or are you just a possessive bastard?”
You could pinpoint the exact moment Kylo Ren snapped. The change was subtle, a short grinding of his jaw, just a flicker of his eyes before he had your head slammed down on the vanity, ass up and knees spread for him to settle between.
His hand in your hair tilted your head up so you could watch as he guided his length to your soaked lips. He coated himself in your slick, circling your entrance and nudging your stiff clit with every stroke.
“Watch and you tell me,” he grunted before ramming his cock into you.
It burned and stretched until you felt him in your throat, a choked moan rattling out of your mouth. You could do nothing but watch your reflection, tears beading at the corners of your eyes when he pulled out only to thrust back in. Kylo set a savage pace, the sound of slapping skin and his groans echoed around you.
You watched his face in the mirror, flushed bright red, one hand still on your head and the other steadying your hips as he drove into you. The drag of him was delicious, pulling pleasure out of places so deep you’d nearly forgotten they existed.
“So desperate for your Commander’s cock, aren’t you?” he growled, draping himself over your back.
His chest pinned your harder into the marble vanity, crushing your breasts against the cool surface while the hand on your hip reached around and pressed hard into your stomach just above your pussy.
“Feel that? Feel how this cunt was made for me?”
Kylo’s head dropped to your shoulder and his teeth sunk into the flesh, muffling the obscene moan that rumbled between his ribs when you tightened yourself around him. You whined, nipples straining against the cold stone and neglected clit begging for attention.
“Kylo, please,” you sobbed, forgetting the game entirely, all confidence leaking away and replaced by a hunger only he could sate.
“No,” he snarled, rearing back and yanking your head up with him. “You don’t get to beg now.”
You were absolutely ruined, skin more bruised than not and mouth hanging open in a silent cry. He met your gaze through the mirror, and you were entirely convinced it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Kylo’s lovely brown eyes were completely black with lust, his hair a crown of sweat soaked curls and a lovely blush that spread all the way to his ears. Plush lips pulled back to show his crooked teeth that splayed out like white gemstones.
He looked every bit a dark, magnificent prince. A fallen angel or a devil or any number of cruel celestial beings—in any case the man above you could not be human.
And yet, you knew he was.
You’d been gifted with the evidence of it, painted him with purple blossoms and seen him bare with scars and freckles and your favorite mole above his gorgeous full lips. The way his breath always smelled like toothpaste.
In all your life you’d never been known to take orders well from any man, but staring at Kylo Ren as he pounded his massive cock into you—meeting you head on without restraint, a comeback always at the tip of his skilled tongue—you thought you might not mind it so much if it was him.
And then his hips stilled, and he was looping your arms around his neck and pawing at your thighs before locking his arms under them and lifting you up, back against his chest.
“Fuck, Kylo—” you yelped at the change of angle and the strength of his arms to keep you aloft.
The shower sprayed down on him, soaking his clothes as he leaned back against the tile wall and fucked you on his cock. The mirror provided a full view of your bodies joining. You watched entranced as his arms flexed, biceps bulging while your pussy swallowed his length and your tits bounced with every thrust.
“That’s the only name I ever want to hear out of your mouth.”
He turned his face into your neck, lips and teeth sucking and nipping at the skin. It was too much, too much and not enough and you were overcome once again with the feeling of something filling in all your hollow spaces. And you knew in your bones straight to the marrow that the pit filled with churning, crackling magma was bubbling up again, accepting everything Kylo poured into you.
You clung on to the feeling and shouted through it.
Kylo, you called, breath coming in ragged gasps.
You were so close from just his cock in you, but it wasn’t enough.
You weren’t sure if anything ever would be.
Kylo, you repeated it like a holy word, long forgotten and imbued with the power of ancient gods.
He buried his head deeper into the column of your throat, squeezing his eye shut as if that could block out your cries.
Kylokylokylokylokylokylo, you chanted in a never ending string until the dam finally broke and you felt his thoughts slipping into you like they’d always belonged there, like there had always been space for them.
It was all too jumbled for you to parse any meaning from it. Snippets of red hot anger revealed themselves to you in a shower of manilla paper. Voices, dark and malevolent whispered of challengers and danger and design. Your body, motionless on the bed painted in ropes of his release and the comforting weight of you in his arms, real, alive, willing and wanting.
Take me, if you didn’t know better you’d think he was the one begging, take all of me .
You nodded and nudged him with your nose until his lips were crashing against yours in a flurry of hot tongue and teeth. His arms left your thighs which remained impossibly in place, held up by invisible hands as he grasped at your chest, rolling a hard nipple under his thumb while the other found your clit and finally, finally rubbed frantic circles around the neglected nerves.
Kylo’s hips never stopped their frantic pace, his cock reaching its limit inside you, and finally he was cumming, sheathed in your heat and pumping you blessedly full while he sent you tumbling over the edge with him.
And as the waves of pleasure radiated over your skin, boiled in your bloodstream—as Kylo licked the backs of your teeth and swallowed down every cry that left you—everything faded out around the edges once again, although now for much more pleasurable reasons.
***
When you opened your eyes again, you were laying in bed. The sheets were damp, but not uncomfortably so.
And this time, you were not alone. Kylo’s hands, massive and all encompassing were splayed against your stomach and chest, one cupping your left breast gently in his palm. His body engulfed you from behind, bare skin hot against yours.
So hot, you thought something inside him must be burning.
Maybe it was.
Kylo? you wondered silently, unsure he could still hear you.
I’m here.
His hand on your chest flexed as he pulled you tighter. Something told you this was not the first time he’d held you like this, there was something too practiced about the placement of his body.
What is this?
You weren’t exactly sure what you meant by that, but he seemed to understand the question.
He was silent for a moment, I don’t know.
The lie was apparent the moment the words drifted into your head. And confirmation was echoed back to you. He knew, or at least knew some of it, just wouldn’t tell you.
That was okay, you hadn’t really expected anything else.
You’re safe with me, he whispered instead.
And that was not entirely true either, in fact you would not be here if not for him. But all of this had a certain inevitability about it that you couldn’t place. A feeling that this would have happened regardless, or a version of it with the same outcome.
You closed your eyes against the thought and nodded, letting yourself be held like you had so often dreamed of on lonely nights in your small quarters
Oooof #34 from the angst prompts has me feeling a certain kind of way, I could imagine that coming up in a Kylo conversation. Thank you so much for allowing prompt requests! I look forward to reading your work ☺️💕
Hey babe! Thank you so much for the request, I’m sorry it took forever but I was trying to come up with the perfect scenario for this prompt and it just struck me. I know you mentioned you enjoyed the last one shot I did with Mobster!Kylo and lawyer!reader, so I used those two for this as well. I hope you like it!
(side note: Kuruk, the named driver here is one of the Knights of Ren, I figured in this universe they’re like his hired goons or something similar)
Prompt: “Hurts.” “I know. It’s going to hurt some more, okay? Deep breaths. Im sorry- I’m so sorry-”
You can barely hear Kylo’s voice over the ringing in your ears. That’s one thing the movies don’t get right, gunshots are much louder in person.
His massive hand is pressed against the meat of your calf, expensive suit jacket balled in his fist as he tries to staunch the flow of blood pouring out of the ragged hole in your flesh. You’re on his lap, warm blood leaking down your leg and soaking his pants as he shouts and you groan against the awful, burning sensation that’s radiating from your wound.
It happened so quickly and your memories were a jumble of Kylo’s office door slamming open and yelling and then your feet being knocked out from under you.
You groaned into his chest as the car sped down city streets, Kuruk dodging traffic and stop lights at every turn.
“Hurts,” you hiss through gritted teeth.
Kylo’s hand on back slipped up to hold you more securely to him, the other on your calf applied still more pressure to the throbbing skin.
“I know,” his voice sounded far away and strained like you’d never heard it before, “It’s going to hurt some more.”
You nodded and buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne and trying not to gag as it mixed with the overwhelming taste of blood in your mouth. Your head feels foggy and unfocused as it lolls against him, your lungs are stuttering with every inhale.
“Deep breaths,” you hear him say and you try but it’s so hard.
You’re having a hard time focussing on anything, but it’s Kylo and even bleeding out in the back seat of his car as he rushes you to the emergency room, you still feel an intrinsic need to please him. So you try and listen for his heartbeat and sync your breathing to the steady rhythm of it. Three beats every breath for as long as you can manage.
“I’m sorry—so sorry,” he whispers into your hair.
You barely register it, and you think it must just be the blood loss, must be some cruel figment of your trauma riddled imagination. His hands shaking under you and the subtle jolt of his shoulders, and the feeling of soft lips on your forehead must be too.
Because you’ve never known Kylo Ren to apologize for anything.
Oh well, maybe you’d ask him when all this was over.
If you'd be around then, that is.
Then the Kuruk was skidding the car to a halt and you could feel Kylo lifting you from the back, bounding steps into a white walled abyss with too many fluorescent lights. And you tried to keep the sound of his heartbeat in the forefront of your mind as you were swept out of his arms and onto something much colder.
And you pried your eyes open just enough to see him standing at the end of the long, hospital corridor, silk jacket dripping red splashes all over the linoleum and eyes wide as the door shut behind you.
