#findyourdarkness

Commission piece based on @star-killer-md‘s drabble for @findyourdarkness.

Hello love! Thank you for the request, it was a very fun to write. I took some liberty with the dialogue prompts just to make it fit Kylo a bit better. hope I did it justice and that your week gets better ❤️

Prompts: “i see you. i know you feel so invisible all the time, but you’re not. not to me. ” + One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

Warnings: blood play (cause I know its one of your favs 😂), naked female clothed male, body worship, angst cause its me

Word Count: 780

The Commander’s quarters are large, dark and overwhelming. 

Just like him—everything about him is overwhelming.  

You come here most nights, lay bare in his bed and let him push and pull you however he likes. He must like it, because he never asks you to leave. Never asked you to come in the first place really, but it's routine now. Every night, your feet carry you to him and he doesn’t turn you away, so you stay until the room is empty and cold and the day cycle starts again. 

But tonight is different. 

The room is filled with the oppressive, iron smell of whoever’s blood is currently dripping from the Commander’s cape. Some traitorous officer turned Resistance maybe, or his own. But you can’t truly think of Kylo Ren ever bleeding. 

You like the way it looks on him, though. Reminds you how dangerous this creature is that hovers over you—naked and prone on his silk sheets. He’s covered but for his face, staring down his regal nose while you squirm under bloody scrutiny. 

Secretly, you like it though, when he stares. No one ever stares, no one ever sees you. 

“I do,” he mumbles

It’s just an afterthought, small and under his breath while he trails leather gloved fingertips up and down your leg, painting lovely red stripes against your skin. You gasp at the sound of his voice, unmodulated and clean. He almost never talks, always looks though.

Always. 

He wraps a hand around your ankle, lifting it to skim his fingers along your calf. His palm squeezes, making the muscles tense, massaging the blood and grime into your flesh. 

“Strong,” again the word is so soft you almost don’t hear it. 

Kylo’s face is nearly blank, eyes occasionally flicking to yours as his hands continue their journey up up up until your bucking your hips into him. And then he’s hushing you, and bringing his palm down to smack sharply on the skin of your side. A liquid scarlet imprint remains behind, marking his path over your body. 

You can’t help the whine that leaves your throat when his fingers move on, capturing your hand next. You’re so wet for him, desperate for him to fill you with the sticky, metallic evidence of his victory. You’d love it if he did, love it if he painted you his trophy, filled your pussy with his leather fingers, but he isn’t touching you where you need it. But, then again, maybe he is because you nearly choke when he brings your fingers to his lips and sucks two into his mouth. 

His tongue slips between them like velvet, so warm and lush and the sight of him—eyes closed for just a second, savoring the rough calluses—sends a rush of pleasure straight to your cunt.

“Capable,” he whispers once his mouth is unoccupied. 

Then his hand is traveling again, the worn leather creases catching on your nipple, warm blood soothing the roll of his fingers as they pause to cup your breast. He palms at your chest just once, listening intently to the soft whimper that falls from you before moving to tattoo a ring around your neck. 

“Commander?” you gaspwhinebeg, for what you don’t know but you need something, need anything. 

He says nothing, just presses his thumb into the vein in your throat that hums with your pulse, feels how it trembles and beats an erratic string of wanting for him. Kylo’s eyes stare fixedly now at your face, lifting his fingers to trace a rouge onto the soft bow of your lips. 

Around and around they swirl until the scent of blood and leather and skin is surrounding you in a heady cloud and Kylo’s face is drifting closer closer closer.

You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when his lips—so soft so plush like pillows—press against yours and dance. His tongue licks at your lips, spit and blood mixing and passing between your mouths as you moan into him. Crooked teeth nip at your bottom lip, sucking until it's swollen and sore. You never want him to stop. 

You know that he won’t. 

Know that he’ll spend the rest of the night with his huge cock splitting you in two and pounding you into the headboard. Know that this is the softest you’ll ever get to see him. 

He pulls back, a string of milky red saliva connecting your mouths, and takes you in—covered in red that hugs your skin like the most expensive of silks, glistening in the dim light. 

“Wear this for me,” he pants into your ear. “Then they’ll see you.”  

And you know you will. 

Kylo Ren’s gaze finds you, already roiling with restrained rage.