nyctophilia || kylo ren x reader

one

He promised he'd be home. You thought.

He had promised, which is exactly why you were still clinging on to every hope that he would hold himself to that very promise.

But you knew he wouldn't. You knew he'd forgotten. You knew he never kept to his word. He hadn't in over a year. Not since he got the job. It was practically like you ceased to exist, like he had divorced you, only to turn right back around and get remarried to his side chick, his job.

You sighed, taking a big gulp from the wine glass in your hands before standing up, blowing out the candles and grabbing the plates still full of food, only now the food was cold after sitting out for too long. Reluctantly, you stood over the trash, dumping out the meal you had worked so hard on for him. The meal you spent hours on. You had even watched a 30 minute Youtube video on how to perfect it.

And it had been perfect.

It was a shame neither of you would ever get to eat it.

Walking back to the table, you snatched up the mostly full wine bottle, not bothering to grab the wine glass. You wouldn't need it. Tonight this was a bottle for one, a particularly expensive bottle at that, which was precisely why you couldn't let it go to waste.

You trudged up the stairs, barely picking up your feet. Right now you should be giggling, running up the stairs with your husband who should be getting ready to absolutely ravage you as soon as you reached the top.

Instead the only ravaging that would be happening tonight would be geared toward the bottle in your hands.

Reaching your shared bedroom, you pushed the door open and walked to the large mirror, taking in your appearance. Tonight you had worn the sexiest red satin slip in your wardrobe, hoping that maybe he'd walk in, see you, and immediately want to take you right then and there against on the kitchen counter.

Maybe then you would've been okay with skipping dinner.

Your sex life had been on a downward spiral as of late. You couldn't remember the last time the two of you had sex, much less the last time you enjoyed it.

You also couldn't remember the last time he had made you cum either.

Recently it felt as though you were having sex more out of necessity rather than passion. Like you had a duty to fulfill as a married couple.

You sat down in bed, crossing your legs as you brought the bottle to your lips, letting the sweet liquid travel down your throat, warming your belly.

Tonight you were meant to be celebrating your two-year anniversary, which you were also supposed to celebrate a week ago, which is when it actually was. His idea of celebrating your anniversary was to have a dinner party with his new-found high ranking government official friends, thrown by you. There was not one face in the group that you recognized, so you spent the whole night silently by his side, ocassionaly nodding or replying when spoken to. You felt small. You felt unnoticed. You weren't even sure your guests knew that it was your anniversary due to the constant chatter about some new important case your husband was "privileged" to be working on.

You wanted to say no to the party, but it was important to him, so you gave in, as long as the two of you could celebrate. Alone.

Which you could now see that you were a fool for even expecting him to have the decency to respect what you wanted, for him to realize that this was important to you just as you had done for him.

Unaware at how long you had now spent twiddling with your thumbs and thinking about how stupid you were for even wanting a nice evening with your distracted husband, you suddenly felt the effects of the wine all at once, warming through your entire body.