Reader suffered past abuse/trauma including forced prostitution/etc. Fic contains references to these past events as well as other potentially triggering content (see tags); I generally recommend not reading if you're easily triggered by violence/sex-related elements, including non-con elements. Originally I only meant for there to be dom/sub undertones, but it kinda evolved into a straight-up dom/sub thing so... oops? You might wanna hightail it outta here if dom Kylo Ren isn't appealing to you.
Fic does include some plot, but not like Tolkien-level plot; mostly it's an excuse to write more intricate smut. Filthy af with a variety of kinks (see tags below). Currently not sure what the end-game is-I have some ideas, but I'm also open to suggestions.
Tags include:
Choking Forced Orgasm Force Choking Daddy Kink Dom/sub Light Dom/sub Dom/sub Undertones Dominant Kylo Ren Top Kylo Ren Kylo Ren is Not Nice Possessive Kylo Ren Rough Sex Rough Oral Sex Oral Sex Oral Fixation Non-Consensual Blow Jobs Non-Consensual Oral Sex Non-Consensual Rape/Non-con Elements Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con Past Rape/Non-con Submissive Character Anal Sex Fingerfucking Vaginal Fingering Anal Fingering Inappropriate Use of the Force Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers Face-Fucking Face Slapping Light Masochism Light Sadism Don't Like Don't Read Reader-Insert Force-Sensitive Reader will add more tags later Filthy Everyone Needs A Hug Smut Angst and Fluff and Smut Fluff and Smut Eventual Smut Shameless Smut Gratuitous Smut My First Smut Kylo Ren Needs a Hug Kylo Ren Angst Protective Kylo Ren Kylo Ren Has Issues Angry Kylo Ren Explicit Sexual Content Explicit Language Sex Shower Sex Dubious Consent Mildly Dubious Consent Extremely Dubious Consent Dubious Morality Dubious Ethics Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs Implied/Referenced Abuse Implied/Referenced Underage Sex Come Eating Come Swallowing Come Shot Dom!Kylo Stockholm Syndrome Naked Female Clothed Male Vaginal Sex Kylo Ren Backstory Size Kink Size Difference Praise Kink Cunnilingus Tattoos Not Canon Compliant Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Facials
You were halfway up the tree when you heard it: a low, humming noise. You paused, gingerly setting a foot along the branch as you craned your neck to identify the source of the sound. It reminded you of one of the busy machines lining the streets of Tavuu, but you were far from there now. Tavuu was built high above the jungle on a plateau; taking the long and winding road up to the city was something you avoided whenever possible. Instead, you spent most of your days foraging in the Zoess jungle. You didn't have money—you had never had money—so you preferred to fend for yourself and forage here, alone. People were awful; your own parents had sold you into slavery in the Eastern district, where criminals ran rampant and controlled the streets. You were so young, you couldn't remember. Your first memories were of the factory, where your little fingers worked to produce many nuts, bolts, knives, and other metal goods and weapons. When children didn't perform fast enough or meet their quota—or if the overseer simply wanted amusement—then were beaten, traded, or sold. That's what had happened to you; you were told into the sex trade as a young teenager, forced to service perverted men. You worked up the courage to escape after a year. All the slaves had been threatened with death should you attempt to escape: to you it sounded like a sweet promise. But you hadn't been caught—you'd escaped into the jungle.
To avoid being re-captured, you stayed in the jungle for a long time at first. You gave yourself a crash course in foraging and making shelters; once you had gotten so sick from a poisonous berry that you were convinced you were going to die. You were almost disappointed when you didn't. Over time, you learned the good foods from the bad, which kinds of wood to strip away from the trees to make the most resistant shelters, and memorized the rock formations under which you currently slept at night. When you were convinced no one would remember you, you began foraging for profit, harvesting walla nuts, adder moss, and various native fruits and vegetables. You sold them in Western Taavu when you needed money for city goods; your harvests never turned much of a profit, but your small credit earnings were enough to buy string and other goods that helped you survive alone. You were destitute, and the city was uncaring; when you were injured or caught fevers from the slimes of the jungle, you sold yourself to men on the streets, as it was the only work that would yield enough credits for medicine and wrappings.
Tensing up, you looked around for the source of the noise. You saw nothing. You began to climb up the tree again, the rough patches digging into your skin. You were sure your hands were bleeding, but you were used to the sores that opened from foraging—you would rub groundnut oil on them later. For now, you needed to focus on reaching the top, so you could cut down the fruits that rested on top. Grabbing the bag you'd woven from thick marsh grass, you hurried up the tree. You hung on with one arm, your legs wrapped around the circumference as you reached up with a short knife, severing the stalks from the fruit dropping them into your waiting bag. When you were done, you tied the bag shut with its drawstring, and looped it over your shoulders to rest on your back. Sighing heavily, you looked down; it was a long way to lower yourself, now weighted down by the heavy fruits of your back. You started quickly scrambling down the tree—if you made good time, you could still have time to harvest some nuts and berries along the path home. You leapt from the tree when you were low enough, gathering up your pile of supplies at your feet and shoving them, too, in your bag. In the distance, you heard the faint sound of shouting; probably just a jungle thief scuffle, you thought.
The man walked down the ramp of the command shuttle, eyes scanning in front of him as he came to a halt.
"Sir, we have located the crystals."
"Good," his vocoded voice responded. "Pull your troops out once they have secured the crystals. Search the area for encampments; bring the women to me. No other prisoners."
"Right away, sir."
He stood tall in front of his command shuttle, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The troops he commanded were on a strategic mission to strip the planet of its natural resources, of which there were few. Only the crystals that grew within the nearby rock face were of any value; everything else was garbage, which complemented the garbage people who lived here. What a worthless planet. He heard blaster shots in the distance, his stormtroopers killing the jungle scum standing in the way of the First Order. This is how it was; the strong preyed on the weak. He was restoring order to the galaxy.
You walked the path back to the place you called home. The pads of your feet thrummed against the jungle floor, thick and calloused from years of foraging. You stopped to pick berries along the way; your stomach had been growling its need for food. Just as you went to pop another in your mouth, you froze; you could have sworn you heard someone speaking Galactic Standard in the distance. That was rare for Radhii, let alone for jungle foragers. Your brows furrowed as you continued towards home, convincing yourself you were just hearing things.
But then you heard it again; this time clearer as you drew nearer to home. There were multiple voices, gruff and short. They seemed to be shouting tactical information to each other. You paused, heart thudding in your chest. Walking slowly in the direction of the rock face you lodged under, your eyes flicking to the source of every sound around you. Stooping behind a boulder that signaled you had made it home, you paused to control your breathing. Then you heard them again.
"Someone's been sleeping here."
"I cleared the North flank."
"Ok. Checking West."
The voices were closer than before—much closer than before. Shit. You grabbed onto the rock, anchoring yourself as you slowly peered above it.
You could make out two figures. Straining to get a better look, they slowly came into focus: you realized they were wearing full body armor. You stepped back on instinct, and a twig cracked. SHIT.
"Hey!" The one was pointing to you, signaling the other. "There!"
Your eyes went wide, and for a nanosecond you could hear nothing but your own terrified breathing and thumping heart. You pivoted on one foot and took off running as fast as you could manage. Your arms swung out at your sides, forcing you forwards, your feet pounding the ground. Loud footsteps behind you indicated they were gaining on you.
"Don't shoot her!" one yelled. "Ren wants the women alive!"
Ren? You didn't stop to ask or even wonder a moment longer, focusing only on slicing through the air. Air streamed past you, blowing back your hair, filling your burning lungs. The adrenaline kick almost made you feel wild and free. And then, just as quickly, you weren't: another armored figure leapt at you from behind a wide tree, grabbing hold of your waist. You screamed at the top of your lungs, thrashing wildly in the creature's arms, putting up a decent fight until the other two fully caught up. Your wrists were grasped hard and held together in front of you, then gruffly handcuffed together
"Walk, you scum!" they spat, turning on their heels and forcing you forward. You stumbled, seemingly tripping over your own feet. You hit the ground with a thud, and one of the figures kicked you. Hard. Doubling over in pain, you heard their voices swimming around you as you clutched your stomach.
"…drag you then" was all you caught as one hooked an armored hand between your cuffs and began to drag you along the jungle floor. You cursed them, flailing your legs in every which direction until they smartly decided to walk just out of your range. Rocks were cutting into your legs, dirt filling the cuts as you were dragged along. Your shoulders were threatening to pop out. The strain on your wrists made them soon go numb, and you choked back sounds of pain and defeat. You would ask for no mercy; you would not give them the pleasure. The sights of the jungle passed by as your vision swam, unclear from the intense pain. You vaguely noticed a familiar cluster of trees, where you'd built a hammock one summer. The happy memory bolstered your spirits for a moment—until you noticed you were slowing down. There were more voices. Many more voices. You came to stop in a clearing, and you twisted your body to see why.
Before you stood more of the armored creatures, some standing together in packs, some talking to men in tailored black uniforms. And some, you noticed as bile rose in your throat, were standing behind kneeling women, blasters trained on their heads.
"Another."
You were dragged up and turned around, then similarly forced to your knees along the line of women. Your heart pounded in your chest, eyes flicking down the line of your fellow… prisoners? Hostages? Whatever you were, it wasn't good for you. These were women you'd never seen before; they were similarly outfitted, most of them—foragers. A few wore nicer clothes rather than the rags you'd fashioned for yourself: criminals from Tavuu. Zoess was a common hideout for them. Just as you started counting the women along the line with you, another was shoved down to your left.
"That's the last of them, sir. We've surveyed the whole area. It's been secured. The objective was captured."
You searched for the man he was addressing. There. You hadn't noticed him in the sea of white armor, too busy looking up and down the line you were now a part of.
"Good." The man said. His voice was unnatural; he was speaking through a filter, you realized. It warped his voice, pitching it deeper, adding static. You forced yourself to swallow as the figure took a step forward, the visor of his helmet tilted to look at the first kneeling girl on the line. He was tall and imposing, outfitted in sort of ceremonial-looking combat garb: something you would've seen on an Imperial warrior before the Empire fell. He wore black military-style boots, black pants obscured by a quilted black tunic and flowing robes extending from a cowl. Slowly he walked towards you, considering each kneeling prisoner for a moment. None of the women dared to look up at him; every one of them bore the same terrified expression you imagined you wore. Your heart felt heavy in your chest as his boots walked past the girl three people down from you, two people down to you, next to you… with a heavy step, he had moved in front of you. You bit the inside of your cheek, and against the advice of the screaming voice in your head, looked up at him.
Not that there was much to look up at. His helmet was all black except for a silver grill surrounding the area where eyes would've been. You saw a thin black mesh material there, which he must have been able to see out of somehow…
"Looking at something, forager scum?" His voice was low with a dangerous edge that made your stomach twist.
You said it before you could stop yourself. "You've got something on your face."
You heard gasps: you were pretty sure one of them was from you. The voice of reason in your head was screaming at you, as was the figure standing behind you. One armored hand took hold of the back of your head and shoved it down harshly.
The looming man in front of you chuckled. "You know I've killed for less?"
Fuck it. You weren't making it out of this alive anyways.
"Do it then." You looked back up boldly. "Do it."
Underneath the helmet, the man smirked. He looked down on the insolent girl like a god, towering over her. Her defiant hazel eyes were boring holes where she knew his would be. Meanwhile he ran his over her body—others on the line possessed better. He stared at the dirt covering her, how it made her bronze hair look darker than it was. Fucking filthy. But there was something about her. The thing that he had been looking for. He couldn't quite place it.
He moved his head to briefly glance at the girl on your left—the last in the line—then back at you. "Show you mercy? No." He paused. "This one" he said suddenly, and you were jerked to your feet and pushed towards him. He grabbed you, flipping you around so your back was pulled against his chest. Large, strong hands closed around your upper arms. "Kill the rest."
Your mouth opened in a silent scream as the armored men shot the other women on the spot with their blasters. Your knees buckled under you. His fingers dug into you tighter, holding you up, making you watch. Then he flipped you back around and waved one hand in front of your face. Everything went black. The man dipped a knee and threw your unconscious body over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.