Kylo Ren/Adam Driver One-Shot Collection

The Traitor - Knights of Ren*

Pairing: The Knights of Ren x Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Sex slavery, Extremely Dubious Consent, Semi-delirious Reader, Orgy (Gangbang), Anal, Double Penetration, Facefucking, Forced handjobs, Slapping, Extreme degradation, Knife play + flesh carving, Force bondage and force torture, Physical Abuse + depictions of torture, Blood play, Spitting, Overstimulation, Dehumanization, Humiliation.

Summary: Located in Preview.

Req-fill: lasagnaraviolli223
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Word spread around the village like a wildfire: brisk, torrid, and alerting every trivial civilian, a flame of fear consuming each individual that once lived peacefully on the neutral plains of Mina Bonteri.

The notorious First Order was under the reign of a new Supreme Leader, and everyone had fabricated the idea that the new ruler— Kylo Ren— had Snoke beat at the dirty game of immorality. He always lugged around a... ravenous, poignant disposition. Things have escalated since the unforeseen death of Snoke, and his reputation had only ascended the ladder of cruelty.

His evil enigma was known amongst the Galaxy, memorized, by those that dreaded the loathing Supreme Leader and his clan of ominously promising men.

The words of anarchy, that you spread, were saturating the village in a pandemic-like state of heedfulness and vigilance. Everyone was painstakingly alert, observant. On their tiptoes, anticipating the moment havoc would be inflicted upon the surface of your bleak planet.

You were guilt-ridden by the panic you had stirred by simply transmitting the detrimental information you enquired... from a man that worked amongst the First Order, with recalcitrant ties to the Supreme Leader himself.

Vicrul Ren. Prestigious, liable clansman of the Knights of Ren. A trusted member of the dark alliance Kylo Ren had formed under the influence of Snoke. He started as one of your regulars: your occupation as a sex worker involved copious amounts of frequent visitors, but you harbored endearment for Vicrul specifically.

He was different. Despite his menacing reputation abroad the walls of the Pleasure House, he was tender and benign, in a way. He would pay double, just to spend time with you after you... well, pleasured him. He listened to you ramble and complain about your drab, degrading life as a woman bound to sex slavery, as if you were linked to it with barbed wire, anchored by fate.

Vicrul succumbed to the feelings that he had sprouted for you before you could even fabricate yours. You both harbored immense, inadmissible emotions for one another. Therefore leading to an ultimatum to be embellished. The relationship between you was declared confidential, even though anyone with a pair of eyes that sauntered into the doors of the Pleasure House could notice your lovestruck-behaviors.

He ordered a visitation with you once a week, if his diplomatic rule under the First Order granted him the spare time. You spent genial time with him, not only engaging in sexual affairs.

The thrill of your relation sizzled out shortly after the relationship blossomed to begin with. The schedule of his duties, and your non-commutable job in general, started to test his patience. Men of his breed were tetchy about things.

In the long run, he had his fun, luring you in with his coaxes, even though through the perception of his emerald-green irises, you were just his personal rag-doll that had been piped and worn to the very foundation that had rendered you.