#I’ve been writing this nonstop for the last two days 🧎

[jinx-xxed]

Possessions

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Was missing this big guy so I decided to finish this WIP I’ve had for way too long 😭 also needed a pick me up so naturally I went back to my omegaverse roots 🫡 and tysm for all the love on my first omegaverse, it was very unexpected <3

Summary; Kylo Ren, the feared Supreme Leader, never expected to find his mate on some backwater planet during a random mission. He never expected you to be so feisty either.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, omegaverse, soulmates, omega reader, virgin reader, alpha Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, scrappy feral reader, heats, ruts, loss of virginity, Kylo POV & reader POV, Knights of Ren, original characters, kidnapping, you try to fight Kylo (it doesn’t work), alpha voice, extremely possessive and obsessive Kylo, Force bonds, mind reading, suppressants, omegaverse terms (kids referred to as pups), nesting, scenting, fingering, piv sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, getting pinned, knotting, fluff, soft Kylo, Kylo’s a good alpha, heavy aftercare, you get pampered

Wc; 10.5k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The smog of the city is thick. It makes Kylo appreciative of his helmet, of the filter it holds inside so that less of the disgusting air gets into his lungs. The smells assaulting his senses are almost overwhelming; burning metal, smoke, sweat, the spices of food, and to top it off, the scent of any aberrant passing through the market square. There’s more betas than anything—as is the standard of today—but occasionally he catches hints of aggressive, potent scents from alphas and even sweet, enticing scents from the very rare omegas.

The city of Yvelo II is especially crowded this time of day it seems. Kylo can feel the occasional pair of eyes on him, people curious about the owner of the fancy ship that just landed in the bay. He pays them no mind, all of them inconsequential to his mission on this worthless planet. He didn’t even want to waste his time here, but multiple generals on his council were insistent. There were strong leads that pointed here, suggesting a spy the Order is after is finding refuge on Yvelo II. He’d been told it would be worth checking out at least, so off he’d went.

He hadn’t brought Stormtroopers with him, instead choosing two of his Knights. They’re significantly better at keeping a low profile compared to the bright, shiny white spotlight Troopers make in a crowd. Not to mention their Force abilities will be crucial in trying to find an individual in the masses. Ap’lek and Kuruk stand next to Kylo now, covered head to toe in their typical array of weapons and black armor.

“Fan out. Find what you can.” Kylo orders. “Alert me when you get something.”

Both of the Knights nod, going forward and immediately disappearing into the ebb and flow of the city. Kylo decides to go in a different direction, trying to cover as much ground as possible. If this mission ends up being entirely worthless, he thinks he’s going to gut whoever came up with it in the first place.

The heat of all the collected bodies and heavy atmosphere presses in on him, sweat collecting beneath his mask and black padded armor, making it feel like it’s stuck to his skin. He knows it’s also making his scent all the more pungent, especially when a few heads turn as he passes by, their own noses assaulted by his alpha pheromones.

He does his best to weave amongst the streams of people, his hood drawn up in an attempt to make himself more inconspicuous, hiding the majority of his newly reconstructed helmet. Merchant carts line the streets, sellers yelling out their wares and deals to try and attract anyone with enough credits. He passes by more than a few squabbles, some started over something as petty as being bumped into while others are about trying to swindle a better deal. There’s restaurants made out of run down buildings mixed into the mess, all of them seeming to be full with lines out the door.

It’s all very loud, creating a jumble of thoughts and noises inside Kylo’s mind that he can barely make sense of. He knew this mission was stupid, he truly didn’t know why he let himself be persuaded to do it. Even with his Knights, he has very few hopes of finding a spy that might be on the planet. Some of the notes about the mission suggested the western sector of the main city, so that’s where he tries to head now. There’s a ring of informants that lives in the area, selling themselves to whoever has more to offer.

Kylo has to shoulder his way through the denser parts of the crowd, his height and width always coming in handy. He even gets the rare person jumping out his way when they smell him coming—he likes when that happens. It satisfies that primal part of himself.

The throngs of people begin to thin the farther he gets from the market square, allowing him to finally hear his own thoughts and make sense of the ones of those around him. None of them are worth anything; one is thinking about what she’ll make her family for dinner, another is cursing about having to spend so much on a ship part, and all the rest follow the same meaningless pattern.

Until there’s something that makes him stop in his tracks.

It feels as though someone just dragged their fingers up his spine, a shiver running through his body. There’s a singular, female voice that’s louder than the others, as if it’s being projected to him specifically. Although based on what she’s saying, it doesn’t seem like it’s on purpose, making Kylo all the more curious. She’s the one thing he can hear clearly, the only thing he can understand as everything else fades. There’s a rasp to her voice from misuse, from having to yell across a workers line. It’s… oddly soothing, calming something deep within him on default. It creates a very strong, very irresistible urge to keep that voice close.

Kylo tries to take a singular step forward and fails when he feels such a strong tug in his chest that it jerks him backwards. It startles him, setting him on edge with his hand against his lightsaber that rests on his hip. One word rings clearly and unexpectedly in his mind: mate. His blood seems to sing, pounding in his ears as everything in his biology screams at him to follow that tug. He has to help her, protect her, protect his omega-

He shakes his head roughly, his breathing becoming labored. His thoughts are jumbled, turned into a cacophony of desperate thoughts surrounding this mysterious voice. He doesn’t know what’s come over him and he finds he’s unable to use the Force to center himself, the otherworldly power instead exacerbating his problem. It projects this woman even more, to the point he can almost taste her on the roof of his mouth with just the smallest inkling of her scent, something so heavenly and right that he needs to get his hands on it before he jumps out of his skin. He feels an ache in his own scent glands, like his body knows how close it is to something he’s been looking for without realizing.

He has no choice. He has to follow that voice, that pull, that feral need.

He has to find her.

» ☆ «

You wipe sweat from your brow for the hundredth time. Lupar’s never wanted to invest in some fucking air conditioners in the workshop, despite complaints from every person that’s stepped inside. It’s suffocating, but you’ve gotten so used to it that it’s like a second home. It’s strenuous work for little pay, but it still manages to put food on the table and even allows you to get a drink every now and then.

You’ve worked for Lupar for around ten years now, finding your way into his shop when you were twelve and sticking around since. You’d been interested in the heavy-set male with gills on the side of his neck, webbed fingers, and pale green skin. It made you wonder why an aquatic like him chose to live on a hot, dry planet like this one.

You stayed because of Lupar’s generosity, something different from the flat out cruelty other workshop owners partook in. Besides, there’s worse things you could be wasting your life on than making ship parts in the back of his store. Lupar sells them for cheaper than most other vendors so people are always buying from him, luckily keeping you employed.

You’ve been promoted multiple times throughout the course of your time, steadily moving up the line all the way to where you are now: quality control. You stand at the end of the line, inspecting each piece as it comes your way for any loose or missing bits, then dipping it into its final sealant once it’s deemed satisfactory. The chemicals always burn your hands through the shitty gloves you wear but your skin has become so rough and calloused that you barely notice anymore.

Lupar trusts you more than any of the others, giving you the job of keeping everyone straight and making sure there’s no slackers. The whip that sits on your belt is telling enough of your status, though you’ve never used it and never plan on it. Simply yelling at anyone not pulling their weight is usually enough to solve the problem. Most of the workers are kids, just like you were when you started. You still have the scars on your back from the times you messed up around the wrong person.

“Zara, straighten up!” You shout. The teen immediately snaps back to attention, her shoulders hunching as she twists her pieces of metal tighter together like she should be. You’d noticed a few of them coming loose in the line, thus tracing it back to a specific part in the process. You huff, taking a rather heavy piece and dipping it into the coating and handing it off to Qiar who puts it on a massive drying rack.

Your life has fallen into an easy pattern. You wake up in your nearby apartment, you work for Lupar from dusk til dawn, and then you go home and do it all again the next day. You gave up your dreams of leaving a long time ago, never having the funds and always being fearful of the what the rest of the galaxy might have in store for an omega like yourself. You owe a lot to Lupar; he was the one that helped you when you presented at thirteen, giving you some of the basic supplies you needed just to survive your first heat.

It was the most unbearable thing you’d ever experienced, but he’d told you that you had to go through at least one to make sure your body didn’t go all out of wack. After that, he’s kept you strictly on suppressants. You aren’t sure where he gets them from and they’re definitely sketchy but they work so you couldn’t give less of a shit. Lupar provides them for all aberrant workers, just so he won’t have to lose them for a week to a heat or rut. It’s less than stellar, but if it allows you to ignore your biology then you’ll take it.

You’re about to take another hunk of metal before you feel it.

A prickle on the back of your neck, the hairs along your arms raising like there’s been a sudden chill despite the workshop being boiling. There’s a ringing that starts in your ears, your head feeling as though it’s been shoved underwater as all the noise around you becomes muffled. You stumble back a step, your eyes shutting in a wince. You don’t know what it is, you don’t know what’s happening, and your heart seems like it’ll beat out of your chest. You can feel a presence just at the corners of your consciousness, massive and dark and intimidating and also so, so… alluring. Something deep, deep inside of you that you haven’t felt for years is desperate for that unfamiliar entity, yearns for it so deeply it makes you ill.

Your lungs constrict in your chest, overcome with nerves and an innate instinct of fear and submission. The scent glands along your neck throb to a near painful degree, as if they’re trying to call out to something but are too blocked by your suppressants to do so. You tentatively reach up a shaking hand, pressing one finger to a gland and immediately regretting it from the ache that meets you. They’re probably flaring red if you had to guess, still unable to emit any scent. Your skin feels like it’s crawling with some kind of primal need you can’t recognize, that dark presence still thrumming along the edges of your mind.

You want it to go away, trying to say so again and again inside your head but it persists as if it can’t hear you, like you have no control. You’re confused, you’re scared, and your body is demanding something you don’t know of. You dig your teeth so sharply into your tongue you can taste blood coating your mouth, the iron tang so sharp it finally snaps you out of it. That, and someone shouting your name right next to your ear.

Your vision clears, your ears cease their ringing. Your breath comes back to you in a gasp, lungs finally free of the fist that was holding them. Qiar is next to you, looking at you with vague concern. “Hey, come on! Get back to work!” He says roughly, motioning to the back up of parts on the table.

“Right-” you begin to speak before blood dribbles down your bottom lip. It seems you bit yourself harder than you thought. “Fuck- sorry-“

Qiar lays a hand on your shoulder and you immediately twist away from him, the touch seeming to burn and feeling wrong. His brows crease. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just- just keep working.” You spit, trying to swallow the blood in your mouth and not choke as you dip a ship part. You can breathe again but your muscles are still tense and it feels like there’s something you’re forgetting. It’s going to drive you mad, you think.

There’s a sudden lull in the line and you’re so busy trying to catch up that you don’t notice for a good few minutes. You’re about to yell at somebody before you hear what they’ve all paused to listen to. There’s shouting and also plenty of things being tossed around and crashing to the ground. It’s not unusual, sometimes Lupar does get the occasional unruly customer, but said customers have never busted down the fucking door.

A lot of the younger kids scream and cower when the door to the workshop goes flying off its hinges. A cloaked stranger in a mask stands in the doorway, his massive build filling the frame and blocking anyone from escape. You notice the weapon ignited at his side before anything else. A lightsaber, spitting red plasma with an unstable crackle to it that you’ve never heard of before. You read about lightsabers and Jedi and all that bullshit when you were younger and had a fascination with them, but you never thought you’d be met with one. Everything about this man sets you on edge; his black robes, his helmet full of red cracks, his chest heaving… and the fact he looks directly at you.

You flinch under his gaze even despite not being able to see his eyes. That muffled sensation from earlier returns, your head swimming as you gasp in pain. Your body doesn’t feel like it’s your own, instead feeling like an animal pacing in a cage, desperate to get out to whatever waits on the other side. Your blood is on fire beneath your skin, and so are your stagnant scent glands.

You can’t do anything as he walks up to you, methodical and predatory. Your limbs refuse to move, gripped tightly by some invisible force. You realize you’re completely at the mercy of this strange man.

Then his scent washes over you.

It reminds you instantly of rain in a forest, giving you the taste of something you’ve never been able to experience. It’s cooling and relaxing, like a fresh breeze blowing across your face. There’s depths to his scent that you haven’t smelled in other aberrants before; cold rain mixed with a gentle tinge of pine and then under it all is something smoky like a campfire, something that promises a strong personality, a strong alpha. It’s the most incredible thing you’ve ever scented, it’s an immediate balm to your burning skin. It soothes that deep, primal thing within you but does nothing to help against your regular, human panic.

“It’s you.” He says lowly, his deep, modulated voice sending shivers down your sweaty back. There’s a curiosity that edges his tone, like he doesn’t quite understand you standing before him—or why he’s been pulled to you. He reaches a gloved palm forward, easily gripping your chin in his fingers and moving your head from side to side. Just that touch is enough to send lightning sparking through your veins. 

You can feel his eyes on your scent glands and it makes you squirm. “Why can’t I smell you?” He speaks as if talking to himself, though you hear the distaste in his tone and his complete disappointment at your blocked scent glands. It irrationally makes you want to apologize, apologize for upsetting this alpha and ever taking suppressants in the first place. What the hell?

“Who are you?” You finally manage to say, trying to steel your voice so you can sound like the opposite of how you feel. He’s much bigger than you, both in height and build, your head having to tilt up slightly just to look into his visor. You’re obviously outclassed, especially with him still holding that lightsaber.

You’re so caught up in each other that you didn’t notice the commotion happening beside you, where Qiar is shoved to the floor by a man dressed very similarly to the one in front of you. “Get off of me!” Qiar shouts, angrily thrashing against his captor, though he has no hope of breaking free. You’re stomach churns when you hear a sickly snap followed by your coworker’s pained screams. He’s hoisted to his feet, tears falling down his sallow face, his body threatening to go limp.

“Master, this is the one we’ve been looking for.” The man says, his voice even deeper and rougher. He reeks of pure alpha—leather and metal and salt, the scent sharp and unpleasant against the roof of your mouth.

“Take him back to the ship.” The one in front of you orders, finally letting go of your jaw. “You’re coming with me, omega.”

You startle at the use of your designation; you haven’t been referred to that way in a long time. You feel the fight rise within you, trying to ignore that other part of you that howls with desperation to go with this threatening man. You bare your teeth, trying your best to growl. It’s a pathetic imitation of something an alpha could do, the sound coming out like a sad garble in your throat. It’s still enough to set off some of the alphas around you, their bodies tensing when they hear your distress call. No one’s coming to save you though.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” You snap. You manage a single step backwards before he’s reaching for you, gripping your arm with a leather clad hand and pulling you back towards him. Your instincts flare, a hiss ripping from you as you flail in his hold, kicking and trying to elbow your way out. It doesn’t work of course, that padded armor he wears doing a good job of protecting him from your weak assault.

“Omega, enough.” The man snarls and… oh. Your body has no choice but to comply. You have to choke back the whine that almost comes out as you struggle to lift your arm for another hit. You become weak in his hold, that alpha voice enough to make even the angriest of omegas turn docile. You’ve never before cursed your biology as much as you do in this moment. You want to continue fighting, to break free and run away but that pathetic thing inside of you has taken over, telling you to listen to the alpha.

He scoops your legs out from under you with a strong arm, holding you to him in a bridal carry as if you weigh nothing. With your face pressed against his tunic, you have no choice but to breathe in an abundance of his heavenly scent. It seems to finally be doing its job and forcing its way into your system and under your skin, bypassing your dosage of suppressants to get your muscles to release their tension and give in.

It all dissipates when you see Lupar’s body on the floor at the front of the shop.

Your flailing movements are so sudden that the man drops you, your knees banging painfully against hard concrete as an agonized scream explodes from you. “No! No, no, no!” You beg, your hands finding his already cooling body and turning him over. There’s a cauterized hole in his chest, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Sobs are wracking you before you even realize. Lupar had saved you, he helped you feed yourself and protected you from more pain than you could imagine and this… this is the death he gets?

You’re torn from his body by strong hands around your middle pulling you back. “Get the fuck off me!” You screech, fighting with everything in you, alpha bullshit be damned. You wish you had a blaster, you wish you knew how to use the whip Lupar gave you, you wish you had anything to help you.

“Quiet, omega-” The man says, though the command doesn’t have that edge this time, like he’s trying to give you a choice.

“Fuck you!!” You yell in response, feeling satisfied in yourself when you wheel back your elbow hard enough into his ribs to make him grunt.

It doesn’t last long though. That invisible pressure from before returns, pinning your arms to your sides while your muscles strain in an attempt to escape. You show your small fangs, the growls coming easier this time, fueled by your rage. The alpha hesitates for only a second, clearly off-put by the blatant disobedience and rejection. He quickly collects himself, bringing a gloved hand forward and hovering it in front of your face. You don’t understand what he’s doing until you feel a very sharp pull on your consciousness. You try to resist, to fight back and stay awake, but you find it impossible as your vision starts to go black at the edges. That strong will slips further and further out of your grasp like sand falling from between your fingers.

You have no choice but to give in to the darkness.

» ☆ «

“Find something extra, master?” Kuruk jests when he sees Kylo emerge from the crowds with you securely in his arms.

However, Kylo is in no mood for jokes and so he snarls at the other alpha instead. The Force hangs heavy and dark around him, his scent thick with something tangy that’s downright unpleasant to any competitors nearby. It’s a very loud and clear warning to stay away from the omega he carries. Kuruk bows his head as Kylo passes him on the ramp into the Night Buzzard, fully admitting his submission simply to avoid a conflict on the journey back to base. Kuruk hasn’t seen his master like this before, but he knows good and well what a territorial alpha who just found his mate is capable of. Force only knows what the mighty Kylo Ren would do if any of them misstepped. He’s like a ticking time bomb.

Kylo takes the furthest possible seat from Kuruk and Ap’lek, who sits at one of the weapon control panels fixing calibrations. Kylo can smell Qiar on the ship somewhere, his misery sour on Kylo’s tongue, locked away in one of the prison cells to suffer with his broken arm and collarbone. Kylo curls his body around yours, hiding you within the darkness of his cape and shielding you from any wandering eyes. He’s never felt this on edge, like at any moment someone might try and take you from him and so he needs to be ready. His mind is a useless ramble of mine, mine, omega safe, protect, mine over and over and he finds he’s unable to shake off those thoughts. Not when you look so peaceful as you sleep, so wonderfully his.

The ship rumbles to life beneath his boots, Kuruk taking his place in the pilot’s seat. It’ll be at least two hours before they make it back to the Steadfast which gives Kylo more than enough time to look you over. He doesn’t understand the urges he has, the deep desire to know every single thing about you and see each inch inside and out. He’s never been this confused, he’s never had so little control of the Force, and he’s never felt such a connection to anyone before. But at the same time, nothing has ever felt so right either. Having you in his arms soothes something in him he didn’t know needed to be soothed and he never wants to let go of that feeling.

You shift suddenly in his arms, a small whimper escaping you as you shift through a dreamless sleep. It makes Kylo encase you a little more, bringing his head down so he can hear every sound you make. His eyes catch on your scent glands, on the red, swollen skin that he wants nothing more than to run his tongue over. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s bumping the muzzle of his helmet against your neck, trying so desperately to coax your scent out. His breathing is unsteady through the filter in his mask, his chest rising and falling erratically in hopes that he could catch just a whiff.

It angers him that he can’t smell you at all, that he can’t properly scent his omega because of the damn suppressants running through your system. Knowing Yvelo II, the medication is probably shady and unsafe and he just hopes it hasn’t permanently damaged your health after all this time. Getting you examined will be the first order of business when they make it back to the Steadfast.

Finally abandoning the fruitless endeavor of trying to get your scent, Kylo takes note of all the other things that you need to be treated for. He picks up one of your arms gingerly in his gloved hand, studying the chemical burns that crawl halfway up your forearms. Your skin is red and splotchy and irritated, scars layered over one another in some attempt at strengthening your arms and hands against whatever acid that sweatshop was using. There’s a few fresh burns, cracked and caked with dried blood. He also saw the scars laced across your back, the ends of them poking out from your tank top. They seem to be from a whip of some kind, probably the same one you still have attached to your hip.

It maddens him, seeing how much pain his omega has gone through. Some insane part of him hisses that he should’ve done better, should’ve protected you as if he didn’t just find out you existed today. He has to shake his head to clear that voice, to try and get a grip on himself before he loses it entirely. He has you now, that’s all that matters.

Kylo huffs to himself, then noticing the already dark purple bruises on your knees. From when he’d dropped you. He does allow himself to feel some guilt about that—it was partially his fault after all. He wasn’t expecting you to fight him so much, and how was he supposed to know you’d be so distraught over that worthless fish-man? The one who had attempted to keep you from him? The way you’d sobbed and screamed over the shop owner had set something inside Kylo on edge and he’d tried to help you, but you refused to listen. He put you to sleep with the Force instead, just so he could take you back and not have to see your blatant distress anymore.

He uses the Force now to make sure you’re still deeply asleep, to make sure you won’t suddenly wake up and start throwing a fit with other, dangerous alphas around. The door to your mind is wide open to him, your defenses nonexistent in your unconscious state. He can sense the undercurrents of your emotions, the unease and fear and panic that consumed you moments before you were taken out. He centers himself to be able to walk through your mind, to rifle through your memories as though they’re stored away in a filing cabinet. He has to feed that insatiable desire to know everything about you and doing it while you can’t fight him seems like the easiest way.

Kylo sees how monotonous your days had been leading up to him finding you. You’d wake up in a dingy, run down, one room apartment, go to work in that hazardous sweatshop, and then go back home once the sun got low. Your memories go back for years like this, an endless cycle of just getting through this day and the next with barely any difference in between, save for an occasional visit to a cheap bar. He passes by all of that, lets it run through his fingers like smoke, searching for something deeper.

He discovers you have no family to speak of, your mother dying in childbirth and your father abandoning you once you were old enough to scrounge for scraps yourself. You were a feisty young thing, getting into tussles with other kids on the streets over food or odd jobs so you could get a few credits for the week. He sees when that man, Lupar, found you behind his shop, when he offered you a job and some sense of safety in the harsh environment of Yvelo II. Kylo almost can’t believe you stayed around for that long, all the way from twelve to you now being twenty-two.

Kylo digs into the memories of Lupar, of the suppressants he gave you every day. It kept you from having to deal with your biology, from ever having to seek out someone to put out the burning fire of need. Something in Kylo perks at that, knowing you’re untouched, like you were waiting for him all this time. He already knew that he had to help you, keep you safe, set you straight so you don’t have to suffer anymore—this just confirms it.

He’s pulled from your mind with the familiar quake of the Night Buzzard signaling it’s being docked. He looks up from you to the viewport, seeing the walls of one of the Steadfast’s many hangars. Kuruk stands from the pilot’s seat after switching off the controls, him and Ap’lek heading towards the back to drag the prisoner off the ship to be interrogated by Kylo later.

Kylo follows after, still holding you impossibly tight, finally bringing you into your new home.

» ☆ «

You barely recall anything, what you manage to catch being a blur as you slip in and out of consciousness seemingly against your will. You only catch a few things like bright lights and white walls, a new and sterile smell assaulting your nostrils, people poking and prodding at you—some with needles—and through all of it, that man swathed in black. He’s always there, right at the edge of your vision, watching over you with eyes you can’t see.

Kylo never once looks away from you while the medics examine you, as they run their endless tests. It takes everything in him to not grab you from them, the irritation of them touching you biting beneath his skin. He knows that the nurses can feel the pressure of him in the room, especially after he already grabbed the wrist of one when she went to give you the first of many vaccines. He couldn’t help it, the beast inside him snarling to not let them anywhere near you.

“Where did you find this omega, Supreme Leader?” The head doctor asks, the older woman studying him over the rim of her glasses. She clearly holds some suspicion towards him, towards the fact that he’s never before brought an omega on board but now he’s suddenly appeared with one he’d be willing to kill her whole staff for.

“Yvelo II. She was an inhabitant there.” Kylo responds, his voice crackling through his mask. “I was… drawn to her.”

The doctor hums. “I figured as much. Based on your reaction to her, this looks like a case of a fated pairing. An alpha and omega being so inexplicably perfect for one another, through a mixture of pheromones and preset genetic coding. To put it simply, there’s no one else more compatible for either party than each other. I assume it’s even stronger for you because of the Force.” She says. “It’s fascinating since this has become an increasingly rare phenomenon in recent years.”

Kylo doesn’t respond, but he mulls the information over in his head. It explains why the Force showed you to him in the first place, why he couldn’t do anything other than search for you on that backwater planet. He’s surprised that someone like himself would even have a fated pairing; he thought that those were just a myth. He nods towards you. “What of her? What’s her condition? The status of her cycles?”

The doctor sighs while scrolling through her data pad full of information on you. “She’s not in the best shape, though it’s expected for a resident of a planet like Yvelo II. She’s malnourished and dehydrated, but we’re giving her fluids now, and her chemical burns have been treated with some simple bacta. The suppressants she’s been on aren’t dangerous per se, and the dosage is surprisingly low, but her being on them since she presented certainly isn’t good. There’s a solution in her IV to help flush the rest of them out and as soon as they are, her body will immediately self-regulate and send her into heat.” She explains, her voice almost taking on a grave tone. “You’ll need to make sure she eats enough if you’re going to make her go through a cycle after so many years. It won’t be easy on the poor thing.”

“I know that.” Kylo snaps, visibly bristling under her scrutiny. “Don’t treat me like a fool, doctor.”

She doesn’t cower, merely meeting his steely gaze behind his helmet. “I’m not, I’m merely looking out for my patient, Supreme Leader.”

» ☆ «

You don’t know how long it’s been when you finally wake up, when you at last have control over your own mind and body.

You sit up slow, cautious of both your surroundings and the faint pounding in your head. You quickly realize you’re in a bedroom, though it’s not like any you’ve ever seen before. This one is bigger than your entire apartment back home.

Panic jolts through you at the thought, your memories rushing back to you in a suffocating wave. You remember the strange man, getting kidnapped, Lupar’s death—all of it making you spring up from the very comfortable bed you’d been laid in. You need to get out of here, before that man comes back.

There isn’t much in the bedroom besides a small bookcase, a desk, and two bedside tables, all of it in a matching dark color scheme. There’s large windows near the bed, revealing the glittering stars outside that stretch on for farther than you could ever imagine. It doesn’t bode well for your hope of escape if you’re in the middle of space. You try to ignore the scent that’s so thick in the room it coats the roof of your mouth—the scent of him. It threatens to cloud your thoughts, the weaker part of you telling you that you should just stay here in this heavenly smell, get cozy and wrap yourself in it. You refuse, heading for the door instead and finding it unlocked.

You open it into an even bigger room, this one looking to be some kind of general living space. Theres a couch and coffee table to your left, another bookcase and more doors to the right, and ahead of you is a small kitchen area. There’s a dining table next to it and on it is a wide assortment of food, more food than you think you’ve ever seen in your life. All different kinds from meats to fruits to cheeses and breads—it’s quite possibly anything you could think of. Your mouth immediately waters at the sight, your stomach howling in response, the tantalizing smells making you dizzy with hunger. Your meals on Yvelo II mostly consisted of stale foods that vendors didn’t want anymore or freeze dried packets from the cheapest place in town, never something like this.

You have to use every ounce of willpower to refrain from eating everything in sight, reminding yourself you’re in an unfamiliar place with a dangerous man undoubtedly nearby. It’s odd that you haven’t seen him yet though, that you can’t even sense him. It probably means you should use this opportunity to try and escape before he returns.

You try the most obvious route first—the main door. You aren’t surprised that it won’t open, but you figured you’d try anyway. You notice a silver plate next to the hexagonal doors, inscribed with a name and identification number. Kylo Ren. Considering the singular scent covering the whole space, you figure that’s the name of its owner, of the man who brought you here. The name is vaguely familiar from the pamphlets of propaganda that would occasionally reach Yvelo II, telling the galaxy of his accomplishments and plans. All you know about him is how deadly he is, how people would talk of his brutality, of the lightsaber he wields. You really need to get out of here.

You try the other doors in the room, seeing if maybe you could find a vent or something to crawl into, but each door you try is locked save for the bathroom. You curse under your breath, wiping your clammy palms on the new set of black pants you wear, the ones that are oddly well-fit to your figure, same with the dark gray tank top on your torso. It’s sad to admit they’re the best clothes you’ve ever worn.

You’re shocked when the final door you try opens, but your hopes are quickly dashed upon discovering it’s just a spacious closet. There’s nothing in it except for… a spread out comforter, pillows, and blankets? You pause in the doorway, your body swaying with how thick Kylo’s scent is inside, like every item was rubbed right against his glands. It’s intoxicating and pure alpha, easily fogging your mind, making heat prickle on the back of your neck. You stumble forward without thinking, your knees sinking into the plush comfort, his smell wrapping around you like a second skin.

You visibly shudder at the perfection, of all the nice soft materials soaked in an alpha’s scent… so good for nesting. The thought is foreign to you, never before needing to build a nest, never having the materials for one, never having a whole room for it before. You barely recall the singular time you did make one during your first heat, where you desperately tried to fit together your only two blankets and pillow into something satisfactory and it never being enough. But this is like heaven for the primal thing inside you, so comfortable and safe and warm. You know you should be irritated at the fact Kylo assumed you’d want something like this from him, that he used it to lure you in, but the smoldering, uncomfortable heat you feel building in your veins is enough to make you ignore that.

There’s a low whine that comes from you without you even realizing, the sound echoing through the space. Sweat has begun to bead at your brow, your limbs becoming shaky, and worst of all is the pressure you feel between your legs. It has your nails digging in to the comforter below you, your mouth dropping open in an attempt to breathe but just getting more of Kylo’s scent instead and making it worse. You know your underwear is already damp, sticking to your cunt with your slick. You gasp as a cramp clenches your lower abdomen, your body curling in on itself in pain. Past the haze in your mind you’re confused; you should still be on suppressants, they should still be working- unless they- unless Kylo-

“Good, you found it.”

You jump at the deep voice, forcing yourself to sit up, even if you have no hope of fighting anyone off in your state. Standing there, right on the threshold of your nest, is Kylo… but without the mask. You hate to admit that he’s beautiful with his rounded jaw and sharp nose, his strong features dotted with freckles, his shoulder length black hair that curls delicately. Theres a long, deadly scar bisecting the left side of his face, disappearing beneath his collar and making you wonder how far it goes. His chocolate brown eyes almost seem too soft for someone like him, someone so full of wrath and anger.

Those eyes look over you now, studying, calculating. His nostrils flare when your scent finally hits him, those damn suppressants gone at last. It’s the best thing he’s ever smelled, so sweet and honeyed from the onset of your heat, calling directly to those alpha instincts inside of him. He can see how badly you need him in your flushed skin, the quivering in your arms and legs, and the thick, cloying scent of your slick is undeniable. He’d step in and claim you right now if he could, but there’s that annoying part of him telling him he can’t enter your nest without permission, can’t invade your safe space.

You’ve scooted away from him as much as you can, your back pressed against the wall, though it does nothing to lessen his scent, fresher now with him standing right in front of you. You try to ignore the slick staining your pants, the ache that wracks your entire body. “You… you killed Lupar.” You manage to spit out, attempting to sound tough but ultimately failing with how much your words shake.

“He was harboring a spy.” Kylo says simply. And hurting you, he almost adds.

Your head shakes, trying to clear the fog. “There were kids that depended on him.”

“They’ll find someone else. There’s always scum to replace scum.”

“You’re a monster.” You say with as much venom as you can muster.

Kylo’s gaze narrows, the air shifting, his scent turning sharp for just a second. “I may be, but I still saved you, omega. Kept you from rotting away in that worthless place.”

“Don’t call me that.” You snap.

His head tilts, mocking. “Why? It’s what you are, isn’t it? My omega, my mate, it’s all the same.”

That manages to break you out of it for a few moments, your brow furrowing. “Mate? The hell are you talking about? I’m not anybody’s damn mate.”

The corner of his lip lifts in amusement. “Theres that bite from before.” He says. He then sighs. “I know you feel it too, that pull to me. We’re meant to be, you and I. It’s why you’re going into heat right now, omega.”

You whimper, folding over yourself again as the cramps return tenfold as if on cue. Sweat soaks your clothes, a raging fire of need and desire burning beneath your skin. “No.. no I-“ You try, refusing to succumb to your biology, to this stupid cycle that renders you helpless, to the horror of it.

“You didn’t think you could be on those suppressants the rest of your life, did you?” Kylo asks, watching as you writhe, hunger blazing in his eyes. “You won’t be touching them again. You won’t need them.”

“F-fuck off.” You bite out, trying so hard to ignore the voice in your head begging for him, for an alpha, to be mated good and proper like you’ve always needed, to get stuck on a knot and filled- “shit-“

“I know it hurts, sweetheart. Just let me help you.” Kylo says, gently this time, coaxing you. Everything in him is telling him to take you, the beginnings of a rut already starting to claw at his mind. He can’t help palming at the erection tenting his pants, the stimulation making him groan.

“I- I can’t.. f-fuck-“ you gasp, words broken by your heat, by the need too strong to ignore despite your struggle. The pain ruins you, and the omega inside you that’s always been neglected wants him more than anything, wants to—for once—be cared for. You’re looking up at him without another thought, desperate hands reaching towards him. “Kylo, please-“

Before you can even blink, before you can regret what you’ve said, he’s on you. His plush lips meet your own in a bruising kiss, his warm body presses firm against yours, your space no longer being your own and instead becoming a shared thing between you. You openly whine into his mouth, his scent fully enveloping you, his strong hands gripping your waist. It feels so right to have him there, to have him kissing you with a hot and sloppy possession, appreciative noises rumbling low in his chest. He shrugs off his cape, tossing it somewhere to the side, his tunic, gloves, and undershirt following after to be added to your nest. The smell of them is potent, making you more than pleased with the prime nesting material.

You moan when his lips trail down to your jaw, then the column of your throat, stopping at the scent glands at the base of your neck. He presses his nose to one and growls, his hold on you tightening as a shiver runs through his body. “Can finally scent you. I’ll fucking cover you in me.” He mutters, mouthing at the sensitive gland, running his tongue along the inflamed skin, your whines growing louder.

You paw at his now exposed back, nails digging in to the wide expanse of scarred muscle. You can’t help doing the same thing he is, sucking at his own scent glands, his taste flooding your mouth. It helps to quench some of the fire raging within you, soothes the ache between your legs for a split second with that pure alpha smell. It’s everything an omega could want, full of promises of protection and warmth and pups.

“Barely even touched you and you already want my pups?” Kylo says, voice dangerously low and amused, his breath fanning across your neck. You can hear the subtle pride in his voice, his teeth flashing right next to where your mating bite would go. “Good girl.”

You’d forgotten how easily he can read your thoughts, feeling your desire like it’s his own. You gasp as another wave hits you, heat flashing through your body, a gush of slick pooling in your underwear. It has you scrabbling for him, your mind fully clouded over. “Please, please Kylo- I need- it hurts- I need you-“ You beg, words beginning to slur together.

“I know, sweetheart, I’ll make it better.” He tells you, his hands working your pants and underwear down your legs. You shiver when the cold air hits your exposed skin, your pussy drenched and glistening in your own arousal. The scent of it is like a drug, flooding Kylo’s senses, making his head spin. He curses, eyes locked on to your cunt, saliva pooling in his mouth as he spreads your knees apart. He wants badly to lick you clean, collect every drop of slick you’d give him, but he knows you wouldn’t be able to handle that now. Your face is a flushed mess, limbs shaking and subtly trying to shut your legs.

“Easy.” He warns, voice thick with the lust sparking in his blood. You whimper at his tone, your biology forcing you to comply and go still. His chest heaves with his breath, each inhale embedding your scent further into his lungs. “I’ll take my time with you later.”

You jolt at the feeling of two fingers dragging through your folds, coating them in slick. Your moans turn breathless and you hide your face in his shoulder as he circles your entrance before sinking a finger in to the knuckle. Your entire body reacts to the sudden intrusion, your teeth digging into your lip, toes curling into the comforter below you. “You’ve never been with anyone before, right? Let alone an alpha.” Kylo grunts, watching the way slick coats his palm, his finger repeatedly disappearing into your hot pussy with rhythmic movements. You manage to shake your head, eyes shut tight, mouth dropped open in pleasure. “Saving yourself just for me, hm?”

“Y-yes- Kylo- please, more-“ You choke out, your hips rolling with his thrusts, chasing the friction. You easily adjusted to just the one, your heat making you pliant and eager. He hums at that, complying with your request, a second finger filling your pussy. You cry out at the pleasant burn, at the way he scissors your plush walls, stretching you nicely for his cock that’s straining against his pants.

His free hand shoves your tank top up and over your head, pinching a nipple between the pads of his fingers at the same time his thumb finds your clit. The sound you make may be the best thing Kylo’s ever heard, all whiny and high pitched as your muscles tense with pleasure. You can feel a pressure building in your gut, one that threatens to release as he palms your breasts and rubs vicious circles on that bundle of nerves. He loves seeing you so lost in your need, so dependent on him to snuff out the fire of your heat. Your scent shifts with your oncoming orgasm, becoming almost sickly sweet, and beneath it Kylo can smell the way his own scent has already intertwined with yours.

Your head falls back with a sob as your whole body bunches up, your release falling over you like a wave. He relishes in the way your cum covers his hand, your cunt squeezing his fingers. He tugs you even closer to claim your mouth, to lick the taste of you from behind your teeth, drinking you like the finest wine.

Your orgasm gives you just a moment to breathe, a second of clarity in the storm that is your heat. You’ve never felt such intense relief before, your body tingling from the aftermath. However, you can still feel the warmth licking at the bottom of your spine, a beast ready to rear its head at a moments notice. You know it won’t be fully satiated until you’re plugged with a knot, claimed in one of the most primal ways possible. Kylo knows it too, probably better than you do, his cock aching to be inside you, to fill you with his cum and keep it there.

Both of his hands grip your waist, moving you over, repositioning you so you’re lying on your stomach, knees beneath you and ass in the air. You don’t even resist, letting him do whatever he wants with you in your post-orgasmic haze. “My pretty girl,” Kylo murmurs, running a palm along the cheek of your ass, his thumb separating the folds of your pussy to see the mess you’ve made. Slick coats your thighs, runs down your cunt in small dribbles, soaking the blankets below you.

Your nails dig into the comforter in anticipation when you hear the rustling of fabric behind you, the sound of a zipper pulled down. Kylo groans when his cock is finally freed, painfully hard with precum beading on the tip. He pumps himself a few times with the hand he’d fingered you with, coating his length with your release, the sight making his breath catch. You whimper when you feel his shaft press against your pussy, tensing as his tip breaches your entrance, sinking in so, so very slow.

The stretch of his cock is almost too much, filling you more than you thought possible, forcing your legs further apart to accommodate. His warm, calloused palm runs up and down your back. “Breathe, omega. You can take me, I know you can. You were made for it.” Kylo says, the ends of his words cracking when he feels the way your pussy is pulling him in, hot and wet and greedy. His body bends over yours, his strong arms caging you in on either side just as he bottoms out. His intoxicating scent wraps around you like a noose, your mouth dropped open but no sound able to come out, his cock having punched all the air from your lungs.

“Fuck- so good for me-“ Kylo moans, sweaty forehead pressed to your shoulder, relishing in the feel of you, of his omega. The alpha in him swells with pride at getting to claim you, at being the first and the last to ever do so. He’ll fill you again and again, get you pregnant, make you smell like him inside and out so every other alpha in the damn galaxy knows who you belong to. The thought makes him groan in satisfaction, his lips finding your gland and sucking it into his mouth as his hips shift experimentally.

Your back arches to meet his chest, mewling for more, desperate for the heavy drag of his thick cock against your walls. He starts easy, slow thrusts where he draws all the way out before sinking in to the hilt. He’s never felt something this divine, his mind swimming as if drunk on your heat. Nothing has ever been this right before, like his connection to you is written into his blood, the Force and something deeper binding you together. He knows you feel it too, your emotions and thoughts shared, tied together with an invisible string.

He fucks you in earnest now, his thrusts snappier, the degenerate sounds of your slick being sloshed around by his cock filling the small space of the closet. There’s nowhere that isn’t full of Kylo, all of your senses knowing just him; his scent, his breathy moans and gasps, his body pressed against yours so all you feel is him. Tears stain your cheeks, another orgasm quickly building inside of you, growing each time he hits that spongy spot at the top of your walls.

“Gonna give you my pups- fuck- keep you here with me, sweetheart, keep you full. I’m all you fucking need.” Kylo snarls close to your ear, once again kissing at your gland, never able to leave it alone for long.

You barely manage to nod. “Y-yes- please, alpha-“

He groans at his designation, at the feral tone of it. He snakes an arm under you to rub his fingers against your clit, encouraging you to reach your peak a second time like a reward. It isn’t hard with how sensitive you are and you bury your face in the blankets, trying to muffle your cry as you cum around his length. Kylo nearly doubles over from the way you grip him, your pussy fluttering against his cock, slick and cum gushing out and smearing along his pants. “That’s it- so fucking good, sweetheart-“ He manages to get out.

You whine at the way he still brutally thrusts into your abused pussy, pleasure sparking within you like a frayed wire, your arms and legs twitching with aftershocks. Your mind is nothing but a chant of good alpha, my alpha, bite me, claim me, strong alpha, any other rational thoughts fucked out of you. The feeling of it is borderline overwhelming, so much so that you instinctually try to claw yourself away from him, your nails scrabbling desperately at the comforter underneath you. Kylo notices immediately, his hands coming to tightly grip your waist, tugging you back into him with a displeased rumble sounding in his throat. He further curls himself over you, using the full pressure of his body to completely pin you down so you have no choice but to take his cock as deep as you can, his tip kissing your cervix again and again.

Your vision waters, your moans become obscenely louder and Kylo revels in it, his nose buried in the crook of your neck so he can breathe you in. “My sweet omega, perfect omega…” He pants against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice sending shivers down your back. He rumbles again, his scent spiking with something heady and spicy—something so possessive it threatens to choke you. Your pussy throbs and oozes more slick around him in response. “Trying to run from me… you’re mine now, omega, mine.”

He gets his point across with harsher thrusts, steadily growing more erratic as he nears his release. Your own isn’t too far off—for the third time. You can feel his knot beginning to swell at the base of his cock, something like fear spiking in your chest over how big it’ll be, but Kylo’s given you no chance of escape. You’ve surrendered yourself to him completely, to your need for each other, to your mate that you didn’t know existed until a day prior. The noises you manage are a garbled mess of lust, of overstimulated pleasure bordering on begging for mercy as you cum once more.

Kylo merely kisses away your tears, silently praising how good you are, this last orgasm taking everything out of you and drawing his own out of him too. He thrusts once, twice, three times before he groans loud, his fat knot at last locking in to your pussy. You do a full body shudder when you feel the heat of his cum coating your walls, rope after rope filling you so completely you barely feel like you have room to breathe. You try to swallow down the air that you need, Kylo doing the same above you. Both of you are utterly spent, and your heat has finally calmed with his claim inside of you. It leaves you feeling exhausted but also satisfied, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Kylo’s kisses are gentle along your neck and shoulders, but you nearly get sent into a panic when you feel him begin to move you. “Relax. You’ll like this better.” He tells you. You try to be good and let him shift you around, even as every limb aches in protest and it tugs on his knot firmly stuck in your cunt. He rests against the left wall, situating you in his lap so you’re basically sitting on his cock, keeping him impossibly deep inside you. You let out a small moan when a fresh spurt of his cum releases from the stimulation of his knot while his fingers dig into your waist.

He brushes your hair back from where it’d stuck to your face with sweat, holding his hand against your cheek so he can look at you. You lean into his touch, eyes closing, too tired to hold up your own weight, feeling like you need to sleep for the next ten years. “Beautiful.” Kylo mutters, his lips reverent when he kisses from between your breasts, across your gland, and up your neck to your lips. It’s nothing like the kisses from before which were hungry and desperate, instead this one is soft, loving, claiming you in a different way.

He nuzzles against your jaw when he separates from you, basking in your scent. “You need to eat before you fall asleep.” He says, forcing you to stay awake despite your struggle against it. “I know you didn’t before. You need to keep your strength.” You grumble a response, cracking your eyes open to find a plate sat to your left. You’re confused about how it got there before you remember Kylo’s weird Force abilities or whatever they’re called, letting him manipulate things in the space around him. He must’ve brought it in here when you weren’t looking.

It’s a simple plate with a mixture of fruits, cheeses, and pieces of bread, something easy to start so you don’t get sick. He’ll make sure you have a proper meal later, when you can think more clearly and you aren’t stuck together. He watches as you pick at the food, choosing whatever looks best, soothing the sharpest edges of your appetite. It makes him happy to see you eat, to know his mate is taken care of and getting the proper nutrition you desperately need. Healthy mate for strong pups, the alpha in him whispers, his teeth gritting together when he cums again as a result.

He brings you a bottle of water too, making you drink the whole thing because of how dangerous dehydration can be for omegas during a heat. It’s shocking to you how easy it is to get basic necessities like food and water in this place after having to struggle for them your entire life on Yvelo II. You’ve never felt this pampered before, this safe and comfortable and cared for. You know it’s because of the alpha before you, your alpha.

You can’t help but reach your hands out, running them through his sweat slicked hair. He seems to preen at your attention, his eyes closing in contentment. Even in this moment of peace, you can’t ignore the thing that’s been gnawing at you ever since he knotted you. You bite the inside of your cheek, rolling the question around in your head. Kylo makes a grunting noise at you, like telling you to just spit it out already. You’ve clearly forgotten again that he can see inside your mind. He wants you to say it though, which makes your cheeks flush a little. “Why didn’t you mark me?”

His eyes open at that as he hums, studying your face. He stops your hand midway through his hair, instead bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss your rough and calloused palm. He nuzzles against it, his sigh tickling your skin. “It seemed like a lot for your first time.” He explains. His gaze shifts to where your mating bite will be, as if imagining the indent of his teeth there. “But I will next heat.” He says it with such finality and determination that it makes you shiver, a familiar warmth bubbling in your blood. If you weren’t so tired and still locked onto his knot, you’d probably go back into heat right then. He smirks at that, knowing exactly how his words affect you.

His arms come up to encircle you, bringing you forward until you’re laying on his chest. You immediately sink into his hold, your head resting nicely beneath his chin. You can hear his heartbeat thrumming steady and strong in your ear, a soothing melody that has your eyes falling shut. Kylo brings his cape over with a simple motion of his finger, wrapping it around you so you’re encased in his warmth, his scent. He says your name softly, like it’s something fragile he doesn’t want to break.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.”