Little Bird (Kylo Ren x Reader AU)

Frequently Faulty

The longer you sat, the deeper the burn at your backside became. The aloe that Ren had so generously applied had long worn off, at this point, but the real issue was the swelling, the heat, like a bubbling sunburn that had managed to sear itself across your entire ass. How generous of him, too, to supply you with this right before an event that required sitting.

It was only minutes, now, until the guests would arrive, and Emma and Rose were twittering in the kitchen, preparing the finishing touches on the meals. You, Johana, and Kylo Ren sat in the ornate dining room, with its tiered crystal chandelier and wall-to-wall windows that opened out toward the garden. At the long, mahogany dining table, the married couple were appointed at the heads, with you at the center, like an entertainment piece. The table had already been prepared with nine settings. The silence was so thick you could hear your blood in your toes.

Johana sighed. "Only a few people agreed to come, after all, Sir. Very short notice."

"Mm." Ren provided no evidence of interest or investment in what she had said.

"You know, Sir," she said, "I'm doing this for you. For us."

"How thoughtful of you."

"It is, isn't it?" She sat back in her chair, arms crossed. "If only you could afford me the same grace." Her eyes laid on you. "Not that it'll be a problem too much longer, I'm sure."

Swallowing, you stared at your hands. Ren hadn't offered you a glance since he'd sat--hadn't even offered a word when he'd dropped off your clothing at your door. Johana kept sticking you and her husband with sharp, suspicious glares, as if she could smell the sex on you, could see the leather marks on your thighs, could hear the words lingering on your tongue: yes, Daddy.

You pinched your legs together, fighting a shiver, fighting disgust with yourself. Back in reality, your willingness to break for him brought a nauseating chill to your stomach. After all, here you were, ready to perform for his friends, the very men who had shackled you to a dress and womb-service or death. Here you were, obedient and eager, with all of the humanity and agency of a pet, but with a hidden array of tricks that consisted of beg and swallow.

"Dolpheld Mitaka and his Wife have arrived, Ms. Johana." Emma's voice snapped you to attention, and you shifted, hoping to ease some of the pain.

Following Emma's introduction, a young, boyish man entered, his Wife--a small, timid-looking thing--on his heels. He nodded to Ren, glimpsing you for a brief second before avoiding your gaze, cheeks tinged pink.

Dolpheld focused on Ren, he and his Wife sitting across from you, near Johana. "Uh, sir, your..."

"Per request of Snoke," he replied. "I wouldn't choose to share my table with a Handmaid."

Johana snorted, and Ren's gaze daggered her. She cleared her throat. "Ofkylo plans on staying out of the way, doesn't she?"

You gazed at your fists as they tensed in your lap--but you nodded. The name Dolpheld was familiar--he'd been the Commander of one of the Handmaids at the Resistance base. A cold rush coated the inside of your chest. You hoped she'd gotten away. Looking at him, though, he seemed harmless, almost pathetic. Hadn't Ren said a few old men? As for Dolpheld's Wife--she appeared intent on ignoring your existence entirely, which was fine by you, anyway.

Emma darted in again. "Armitage Hux and his Wife, ma'am."

Armitage. From behind Emma emerged a stiff, reedy man with coiffed copper hair and an expression that managed to communicate both complete disdain for every living creature and unbearable smugness. His Wife was boxy and brown-haired, the type of person of which nothing notable could be said other than her utter lack of notability. It seemed strange to see these two wallpaper women at the same table as Johana--in role, like them, but in personhood, incongruous.