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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years ago

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Kill The Past - Kylo Ren X Female Reader

Title: Kill The Past

Kylo Ren X Female Reader

Additional Characters: (OC) Sora Rene, (OC) Vero Zapal, and Luke (Mentioned)

(Originally Written in 2020)

| Part 2 |

WC: 2,113

Warnings: Angst, rude Hux, mentions of Reader's parents/guardians' death, mentions of murder, typical First Order stuff, fighting, yelling, crying, flashbacks, and mentions of stress

The bright suns lit up the sky, shining down upon the planet Ova. Y/N F/N stepped onto her balcony, the fresh spring breeze rustling her already messy hair. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out, a gentle smile gracing her face. But, it did not last. Her smile slowly faded, as she remembered her plans for the day.

Pushing off of the balcony railing, she turned back into her room to get ready for the day. She had a meeting with The Supreme Leader of the First Order. She was not happy with the ordeal, but her advisors suggested that she go along with it. After all, it was only going to be for a few hours.

Fixing her messy hair, she made sure that her hair was pristine and perfect. Her curls fell perfectly on her shoulder. Grabbing her black crystal necklace, she clasped it around her neck, bringing the whole look together.

She was wearing one of her favorite gowns. It was smokey black, made completely of fine silk. The bodice was a deep sweetheart neckline, and around her waist was a simple black belt. The smokey black skirt came down and ended at her feet, creating a train behind her. Her sleeves were long, ending past her waist, a slit in each, allowing her arms to be free to move with ease. Upon her shoulders were silver embroidered roses and other flowers, vines of silver thread connecting each piece.

Lastly, picking up one of her tiaras, she gently placed it upon her head. While the others were all silver and even some gold, this one was black, with diamonds scattered around. Fixing her hair one last time, and making sure her appearance was right, she sighed, knowing what was to come and what was inevitable.

After meeting with the advisors in the main hall, it was time to meet The Supreme Leader for the meeting.

“Lady F/N, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is here. He is waiting in the Entrance Hall.” Vero Zapal, Y/N’s Captain spoke, fear in his eyes.

Y/N nodded and stood from her throne. Brushing down the skirt of her black silk dress, she made sure she was ready. Straightening her back, fixing her shoulders, she made her way to the door, Vero following close behind. Heading down the quartz stairs, Vero and Sora Rene, her right-hand guard followed down with her.

Her eyes were downcast, knowing that the person at the bottom of the stairs was the Supreme Leader. Someone she had let into her palace and home, willingly. Her parents would be turning in their graves.

Her parents were part of the Resistance, proud and true, they did anything in their power to help others and fight the dark side. When her father was training to be a Jedi, he met Y/N’s mother, who was a part of the Jedi council. They had both quit the Jedi ways together, eloping and marrying, before traveling to Ova to settle down.

Ova was Y/N’s mother’s home planet, where when she was a young woman, was sent away for Jedi training by her parents when they found out that she was force-sensitive. Her mother was part of a long line of royalty, starting with her mother’s mother, and ending with Y/N. The new Queen of Ova, since her mother and father’s passing.

And, she knew deep down in her heart that her parents would be disappointed in her for seeking help from someone who has killed many innocent people. The Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. She has heard of what he’s done to others and to the Resistance. But, she needed the help and she knew she needed to get it from somewhere.

Finally looking up into the eyes, well, the mask of Kylo Ren, Y/N kept herself calm. But, inside her heart was beating ten times a minute.

Kylo Ren stood tall, in all black, almost similar to herself, looking tall and confident. Hands neatly behind his back, his lightsaber clasped on his waist holster. He said nothing but stared, and from where Y/N was, she could feel his force radiating off him. It was dark, strong, and controlling.

Y/N glanced away, taking in a shaking breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice her discomfort, but he absolutely did notice, she could feel it in the force. Noticing more than just his presence, beside him was a tall redhead. Wearing all black like Kylo Ren, but his red hair stood out among the dark colors. He was glaring, scowling almost, hands also behind his back. He almost seemed as if he didn’t want to be there.

Clearing her throat, she knew she had to talk or things would go sour in no time. Looking back to the masked face of the mysterious Kylo Ren, she kept her composure.

“Supreme Leader Ren, welcome to Ova. I am Lady F/N. Shall we start this meeting?” She spoke, and meeting no answer, she sighed.

“Alright, well follow me to my Meeting Room.” She spoke, before heading down the hall, Vero and Sora following behind Kylo Ren and the redhead.

Stopping upon two large doors, Y/N entered the room. It was a large room, with a balcony overseeing her land full of wildflowers and bright green trees. In the middle of the room, was a large elegant table, eight chairs sat across from each other, and one larger chair sat at the head of the table. Vero pulled out Y/N's seat at the end of the table, and she sat down. Vero sat on her right, Sora next to him. While Kylo Ren sat to Y/N’s left, and the redhead next to him. And, after a moment of rather uncomfortable silence, Y/N began to speak.

0-0-0

“I asked you here to make a deal with you.” She spoke, doing her best with looking at the man in black.

“What deal?” He asked, his first words to her since he arrived.

Y/N, not expecting an answer from him, especially his voice, though modified with the mask, she froze. Shaking off the confusion, she continued.

“I want to create an alliance with you...” She began, hands trembling in her lap.

“I would give you any resources you need as long as you don’t hurt the people of Ova.” Vero stared at Y/N, eyes wide.

“My Lady, are you sure-” She stopped him from speaking any further with the raise of her hand.

“I know what I am doing, Vero.” She spoke, before turning back to Kylo Ren, who sat in silence, thinking.

“Agreed.” Kylo Ren spoke, before standing up from his seat, and the redhead followed.

“But, sir! This is outrageous! We have all the resources we need.” The redhead argued, glaring towards Kylo Ren and then to Y/N.

“When the time comes, we will run out, and they will help us.” Kylo Ren spoke, the robotic voice was deep and threatening.

“We don’t need help.” The redhead spoke up again.

“Commander, I am the one who sees if we need help or not.”

He spoke, before turning to Y/N, looking down at her.

“I need to speak with you alone.” He spoke again, more as a command than a suggestion.

With a quick nod, Y/N turned to look at Vero and Sora, who nodded, wearily and left the room. Along with the redhead, who grumbled something under his breath before leaving, the large doors shut behind them.

It was quiet. No one said a word. Kylo Ren stood in place, watching Y/N as she looked at him, waiting for him to speak. He stepped closer, a bit too close for her liking, but she didn’t step back or away, she kept her place, beside her chair. Stopping a mere feet away, she could feel the heat radiating off of him, and the sound of his robotic breathing.

Silence reigned supreme again, as she stared down at her, causing Y/N to look away, past him and out the balcony window, seeing the beautiful trees. Raising both his hands from his side, she almost flinched. Almost. As he reached up and grabbed his helmet, after a hiss and a click, the mask was pulled away, and soft black curls popped out, framing a perfect face.

Y/N’s eyes widened, instantly tearing up, as she covered her mouth as an audible gasp escaped her. Backing up a bit, she stopped, hitting the side of her chair. The memories of her past hit her as if someone flew a speeder right into her.

Y/N studied and trained to be a Jedi at the Jedi Temple, with the Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. Along the way, she met and befriended Ben Solo, Luke Skywalker’s nephew. They trained together, read together, laughed, and talked together. They did almost everything together. They were inseparable. But, what was a friendship soon became more. They confessed their love, their adoration for each other one night while gazing up at the bright, shining stars. With comforting hugs, deep thoughts, and soft kisses, all seemed perfect. Until it wasn’t.

Y/N’s eyes continued to stare into the cold brown eyes that used to be warm. Tears were already streaming down her face, as she remembered the good times before the temple fire. She knew of his concerns, but she never thought it would end like this. Holding back her sobs, she tried to compose herself, but she couldn’t. The love of her life that she thought was dead, killed by the fire or something, was actually alive… But, it was something her family fought against and hated.

“Ben?” She whispered out, after removing her hands from her face, staring up at the grown man she used to know.

His eyes glared down at her.

“Kylo.” He corrected and Y/N stared at him, unmoving.

“Kylo…” She spoke, saddened.

“I thought you died.” She spoke in a soft voice.

Kylo said nothing but reached out, his leather-gloved hand, reaching out and gently touching the black crystal. Y/N watched as his eyes seemed to soften, but they hardened and Kylo pulled his hand away. Clenching his fist at his side.

“Let go of the past, Y/N. Kill it if you have to.” He spoke, turning away and putting his helmet back on.

And, with that, he turned to the door.

“Kill the past, Y/N." He spoke, before opening the door and leaving.

Turning away from the door, she brushed her tears away, clearing her throat. A loud thud surprised her and Vero and Sora came rushing in.

“My Lady, what happened? The Supreme Leader left in a hurry along with his Commander. What did he say to you?” Vero asked, getting defensive.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that my people are safe.” Y/N spoke, finally meeting Vero and Sora in the eye.

Sora’s eyes widened, “My Lady! What happened? Have you been crying?” She asked, rushing over.

“Nothing. I think it must be the stress catching up to me.” She lied, sniffling, giving Vero and Sora a shy smile.

“If you insist, My Lady.” Sora spoke skeptically.

“I do insist.” Y/N smiled before she walked out of her Meeting Room.

“I think I will retire for the day. I have nothing else planned, right Vero?” She asked, turning to go up the stairs back to her room.

“Yes, My Lady, you have nothing else to do today.” He spoke.

“Well, alright. I do not want to be disturbed until dinner tonight, thank you.” Y/N spoke, before heading up the stairs to her room.

Her soft smile fell once she wasn't in Vero or Sora’s sight. A sad frown upon her face, as she fidgeted with the black crystal necklace. Shutting her bedroom door, she walked to her balcony, seeing as Kylo was just now re-entering his ship. Y/N watched as he stopped where he stood, halfway on the ramp. As if he knew she was watching him, and he did know. Turning and looking up at her as she stood on her balcony. She watched as he turned and left.

She turned away as the ramp raised up. Y/N's eyes began to water once more. As she remembered the lost time she can never take back. Knowing that he was in fact, too far gone for her to save. And, in fact, he didn't need to save. Ben Solo was trapped inside the shell of the man that he once was. Ben Solo needed saving. And, she was determined to fight back.

#kylo ren x reader #slight angst #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren imagine #angst #kill the past #part 1 #old 2020 fic #kylo x you #kylo x reader #female reader #queen reader

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years ago

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Dark Corridors

Erik Killmonger x fem!Reader [One Shot]

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sex. Don’t be silly, wrap that willy.

Word Count: I mean, who am I to say no to a 2am wishful thinking of my brain who heard WAVES by Normani once and decided it wanted a full-fledged smut with this bad boy. Have your way brain. It was such a smooth ride. I definitely didn’t sweat the entire day just thinking about it. Neither did I have breathing problems while writing it. And vivid scenes? Naw! Not at aaaaall!

My neighbours are having a party right now and I can hear mum’s friend singing songs off tune while being jovially drunk. Hihihi

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

There is something about these lights. The dim-lit corridors with just a single subtle line of blue guiding you to the equally lit floors but with strobe lights and a lot of people. The place smells of alcohol, smoke machine and something citrusy going about in the air. Smells like pent up emotions just waiting to get out and have fun. Smells like the edged nerves before sex.

Everyone here is with someone. Tables filled up with friends buzzed into the night. Booths filled up with couples with hands roaming each other without any restrictions. There is something about this place.

Talking of place...

Your eyes wander farther than the barstool you come to settle on, ordering your usual. Why you are doing this, you're not sure yourself. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were not supposed to be like this.

Three weeks.

Three weeks since you came here with your girlfriends to get away from the mental torture of finding out stains of lipstick on your boyfriend's shirt, his clothes reeking of the lingering feminine perfume that had grown stronger day by day. Three weeks since you ordered four Long Islands for yourself, wanting to just let it all slip away- your senses, your emotions, your body. Most of all...your tears.

Tears don't come that easy when there's a need for them. So, there is a need to go about finding dark corners inside and out to find a point of no light to help you make yourself bare. Three weeks since you did slip away from the bar to find yourself up the stairs walking in dark corridors, trying to find a perfect corner. Three weeks since something in the darkness touched you.

At first, it was a graze along your clothes, almost so light to be missed for a breeze. Then, it turned a little curious, the touch rising up your back before finding its way down. The curiosity had given way to a filthy need when fingers seemed to reach down your skirt, your mouth clamped shut with fingers so that no noise came out as they tried to get their way.

You don't remember what it was exactly- the buzz, the flight response or the need to just lock your teeth onto something really hard- but you were biting down on those fingers trying to shut you up, making a gurgling scream leave a man as you tried to run away, only to run into something hard at the end of the corridor.

You would have mistaken him for a wall if it hadn't been for the moonlight bouncing off him, colouring his dark skin a glittering blue from his neck all the way up that sharp jaw carrying a thick stubble, going further up to be met by intricate dreadlocks on one side.

You were thankful for the hold of those strong arms around you, breaking the otherwise drunken gait that would have landed you headfirst down. But thankful as you were, you were scared. Scared by the dark eyes looking like smokey quartz polished to perfection by the creator himself. Scared when those pair of quartz looked down at you, into you, all over you, before loosening their grip on you and walking right into the darkness you'd run away from, bringing out wails that could raise the dead and kill the living.

But nothing in your life seemed to have given you as cathartic an experience as when you watched him come back out, unscathed by the unseen.

There was something about the moonlight that night.

There was something about the lack of it the next week. When you went back again, this time looking for an escape from your boyfriend. It wasn't going anywhere and you wanted to leave him. Get away from that cheater. As much as you could. So alcohol was being made the catalyst to the escapade. Till you saw him. Again.

Sitting in the farthest booth with nothing but a candle lighting up his corner, he seemingly was in a meditative state, studying something on the table in front of him. Those arms form the previous week were covered in a full sleeves navy blue t-shirt today. Those eyes were behind thick-rimmed glasses, looking down at the contents of the table, giving you enough time to study them from where you sat. At least that's what you thought till they shot back up to look directly at you. No one but you.

You wanted to look away, but the grasp of those quartz was strong on you until your body had to drag you away from their hold.

You visited every other night since then, trying to steal a look of that dark stranger who would sit in the invisible corners, alone, carrying out whatever it was that he did. You? You kept finding yourself feeling guilty of coming back for him, having thoughts of his skin brushing over yours, that stubble grazing your skin, those eyes stripping you naked and making your core pool just by their stare.

All those weeks and you both kept your distance. Physically.

Tonight it is the same old routine. He sits in the corner with that candle as his only company. You are on the bar with the Long Island sitting in front of you. The drops trickle down the glass, your eyes following them, trying to erase the fight you had last night when you left that excuse of a man for good.

Right now, it's just you and your drink, slowly diluting everything that is sullen. You are aware of the eyes that linger over your form clad in this blue dress with crisp straps over your shoulders, the fabric going down no more than your thighs. A man or two do try to sit next to you, buy your drinks for you, take you out for the night. The same men mutter curses when you show no interest.

It's all fine till you see your boyfriend- ex- come and sit down next to you, smelling of whiskey too heavy for you to stand the odour. He wants your attention. He wants your body. He wants you back.

You hold your thin blue shawl closer to you, covering your arms as much as you can. Your ex tries to hold them, making you shrug him away- not before he gets hold of your shawl, yanking it away from your body- get up and walk away from the bar. It is hard to find a way through the crowd, that might as well just be solid shadows in true hall. You can feel him calling out from behind you, forcing you to go up the stairs, past the people rubbing on to each other in the night.

He does catch up, grabbing your arm and not letting go till he has you pushed against the wall. You push him away, wanting to get his body away from you as much as you can, only for him to press it more against you, the bulge in his pants trying to press in between your legs.

When the nerves cannot take it anymore, your hand takes it unto itself to punch him across the face, catching him off guard.

You think that should be enough to get you away from him, clearly misjudging his reflexes to grab you by your throat, ram you against the wall and slap his back of the hand right across your face.

The impact leaves a tingling sensation on your cheek and a ringing in your ear. Your focus on the heat rising up in the hurt flesh does not let you observe the presence of another man taking your ex by the collar before throwing him a few feet away with a single smack to his face.

The sound of that man dropping catches you off guard, making you look up at the familiar man of the moonlight, standing with his back to you- or rather, standing between you and trouble.

It doesn't take much more for the ex to scurry away with a bloodied nose and curses under his breath, leaving you and that man alone.

A woman comes up, calling this man Erik, asking if everything was okay. Erik, turning to look at you trying to find the gravity under your feet and hands, just nods before letting his hand curl up around your arms as slowly as possible- so as not to startle you- and get you up on your feet.

No words are exchanged as he walks you through the corridor up another flight of stairs where soft yellow lights seem to illuminate a little living room past the main door. It has a warm scent of apple pie and roasted chicken, probably coming from the kitchen right next to it. Across the living room, without any doors or blinders is the bedroom housing a bed with grey sheets, clean to the corners.

It's nice.

Erik leaves your arm once you're standing by the sofa and goes to the bathroom to get his first aid kit.

It is a task to decide whether you sit down or not. But you do it anyway, being careful not to get anything on the flower-patterned beige fabric.

It doesn't take Eric long to come back with a plastic box in his hand, walking to sit down next to you to begin the ritual of tending to your wounds.

Jasmine. He smells of jasmine and...and something earthy that you can't put your finger on. His eyes follow the cotton dipped in clean water before coming to rest on your cheek. And then your eyes.

You turn your cheek to him giving him permission to take care of it for you. And so he does. The cold moist touch is gentle, though it makes the wound sting. Makes you close your eyes and draw in a troubled breath. All of it is followed by a cool breeze fanning the burn, soothing it, making it calm down.

It's Erik, easing the pain with his breath.

Once the wound is clean, he dabs a bit of clinical spirit.

You don't even know when it happens but you are leaning into his touch more and more with every passing second till you find yourself waking up from a trance with his fingers pushing away your hair from your face and behind your ear.

Close. He is close to you. The original art of what you had been imagining of facing for so many days, right in front of you. Lips, perfect and parted. Breaths, easy. Eyes, heavy and dark. Intentions, deliciously questionable.

It isn't hard to miss- or he is making it rather obvious- when Erik keeps shifting his gaze from your eyes to your lips.

You too, are starting to question every microscopic thought you have had about those lips and the curiosity of what they taste like. Being the cat who does not want to be left in the dark, you shift your weight and close the distance with your lips landing on his.

It's a hurried decision that you're still wondering if you'll regret when you feel his lips take over, opening up to deepen the aftertaste of your curiosity.

Sweet and salty. That's what he tastes like. With just a hint of alcohol. Craving for more, you let your tongue get a lick of him. And once he figures that, his own tongue is letting itself into your mouth to reign over every corner it can find.

Before you know it, his hands are holding your waist, his fingers wanting to dig beyond the blue fabric over your body as his chest pulls you down and his leg plants itself between your thighs, letting you grind your pulsating core against the surface of his jeans.

The once tender kiss has deepened into a lustful need for more demanding exploration. His one hand lingers on your jaw, the other delves into the lower regions, ricocheting under your dress, teasing the hairs on your thigh rising to welcome his touch.

His tongue has managed to grab an illicit moan out of you, which you reciprocate with a provoking bite to his lips between your teeth.

Erik's eyes go hauntingly dark at your audacity to so graciously let him know what all you are open to. It has never been normalcy for him to give up the strings to someone else to let him be played. But just this once, he wants to test the waters, wants to see where this goes.

He helps you get off his shirt and you pause for a second to watch in awe the markings on his body. Perfectly patterned ridges run across his chest at intervals that you are allowed to touch and even scrutinise under your fingers because your touch is this gentle breeze of a drug that Erik slowly seems to be getting high on. Not too long before you have undone his pants and freed his length that has been waiting for you for quite a while.

The first stroke is but a pleasant kiss by your fingers, making Erik's cock twitch. The precum is spread over the length and a few languid strokes by your hands later, his breath is fluttering a bit before a considerable tremble is felt as your mouth takes in as much of his length as it can, letting your tongue play with it, your head bob over it with a slow and steady rhythm and uncontrollable low moans that escape your throat. What your mouth can't cover is taken care of by your hand, stroking the length, leaving no part untouched. It is a pleasure to hear him audibly shudder when your tongue plays with his frenum, making him see dark spots behind his eyes.

It is an entirely new spectrum of pleasure for Erik, and yet his hands twitch for taking the reins. He wants more. He wants to take control. He moves your hair out of your way before taking your jaw in his hand, making your leave his cock. Before you can gather, he is lifting you by your thighs, putting you over his shoulder and walking towards the bedroom to drop you on the fluffed up mattress.

Your dress is unzipped and thrown on the floor, your panties practically torn before his fingers are finding your folds, diving into your wetness, locating your clit and rubbing it to light up all the dark corners of your body. Your cunt is at his mercy now. And that's not the only thing that gives you pleasure, Erik makes sure of that. His tongue is giving all the attention to your nipples in turn, making them perk up with more of his sucking and nibbling, having a terribly good effect on your already sensitive core.

When a high note of simmering pleasure escaping you reaches his ears, Erik stops the play, much to your dismay, for not wanting that pleasure to end just here. Instead, he takes your legs- which still have the boots on- and lifts them up over his shoulders, biting and sucking on them all the while. You will not be surprised if you find bruises where he is digging his teeth. These are the only types of bruises you'd want anyway.

His length teases your folds, making you arch up into him, asking him through your eyes to satiate your hunger.

You want more.

And you want it all.

Erik seems to know that desperation lurking in your eyes for he pushes his cock in, forcing out a gasp from you at his size, at the same time making you grab at iron rails of the headboard in the name of gravity to get you through the first few seconds.

Once he feels you having adjusted to his length, Erik nearly pulls himself all out before going back in with the right about of jerk, making you go for the headboard again. The pace is picked without much room for a love-making trot, skipping straight to the highs of watching his form smile down on you while his hips slapping with your ass cheeks and you let out rhythmic moans, instantly finding yourself pooling up and shuddering under your orgasm; the high being carried out when he rides you right through it.

But Erik isn’t done yet.

He flips you on your stomach, slapping your ass before digging his fingers in your hips to drag it close to his pulsating cock yearning for more.

You are still catching your breaths and feeling the sweat rise behind your neck when you feel his throbbing length enter you once again, and your body with a will of its own arching back into him.

Why, he has his claws into you. Your ass cheeks feeling his nails dig into them as he once again slamming himself into you, this time, creating fireworks behind your eyes. The pace is torturous and tactile at the same time. Your breasts dance at every impact, your walls lighting up whenever he hit the right spots, again and again, his grunts and groans vibrating right into your core. You can no longer hold your cries back, letting them out with the fast rhythm he is riding you on.

Yes.

You want this. You crave this. You crave him. Inside you. Over you. Everywhere in this moment of your existence.

The pace fastens as Erik reaches his own high, his length gradually swelling up inside you. You too are close once again, your cries rising higher as the edge of that dam approaches, letting your fingers find your clit to come with him. And as the pace gets sloppier and the cries from the both of you more feral, asking for more, the orgasm hits in its prime, bringing Erik down on you as his legs shudder and your knees, in turn, give way, falling flat over the mattress, glowing with the mix of sex sweat and orgasmic high.

A few moments pass in silence when both of you catch your breaths and find parts of each other under your fingers that want reassurance through touch.

Satisfaction.

Nothing like this has been achieved before. And it only makes you question what all can be explored in the future.

But for now, it's bliss. Pure bliss.

Erik slowly pulls out of you and goes to the bathroom while you take the opportunity to turn and get up, feeling your core throb at the fresh ache it experiences in there. Within no time, he's out again, this time with a towel that seems to be wet, cleaning the aftermath of the pleasure between your legs. The fabric feels warm and soft, cleaning every last trace and being dumped into the laundry basket by the bathroom door.

This part, you are unsure of.

Stay?

Or walk away?

The deed has been done.

You know what you want, though. It's the question of what he desires.

The duvet he pulls over you while planting himself in the bed next to you seems to answer the question.

And as if to make double-sure on it, Erik lets his hand grab your waist and drag you close to marr your swollen lips with a tongue-tied kiss.

You are lying on his chest, feeling the ridges under your skin and fingers while his arm embraces you, soothingly rubbing on the injured cheek.

The sounds from the club downstairs are muffled, the lights off, letting the moonlight creep in and be bedfellows for the night, dancing on your skins jovially.

There really is something about the lights tonight.

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mrfog6 · 5 years ago

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buckymcbuttfacebarnes · 6 years ago

Text

Devotion

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3300

request: this has been done a few times but i really want ur take on it and a bitch loves angst and drama so uh. maybe reader/bucky are in a relationship but like its a secret and its in the early stage but Then bucky gets a little too close for comfort w somebody else and yeah. i feel corny as fuck for saying alla that but,,please (requested by anon)

summary: bucky barnes and y/n struggle to define the parameters of their relationship, especially when y/n sees him with another girl.

warnings: angst fluff and vague ass smut like bitch i aint never written smut b4 so LMFAO

a/n: i tried to make this as not-cheesy as possible, but i know that its still gonna be corny as fuck bc i love corny bucky shit! love u anon,, i hope you enjoy pls lemme know what u think!<3

my fics

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bucky glances at his watch before tugging you into the small room with him. You want to resist, but you can’t. You are putty in his hands. Each brush of his lips against your skin sets your nerves alight, warming you completely. His kisses are wet and feverish. Almost desperate. When his lips touch your neck your eyelids flutter shut, his metal fingertips are cool to the touch, they make you shiver.

“Bucky—” the half-hearted warning escapes your lips quietly.

“Y/N,” he murmurs in playful return, mimicking your tone. You can feel his smile growing.

“We have to get to the party…” your voice trails off when his hands come to hold your sides and his lips move to the sensitive skin beneath your ear. You like the feel of his beard scratching at your skin, the way his breath cools the places where his lips have been. “Buck, c’mon,” you start again, but his hand slides down to hook beneath your thigh and you instinctively wrap your leg around his hips. His cologne is intoxicating, but you breathe it in anyway, longing for it to fill your lungs. “We have to stop…” you say breathlessly, “They’re gonna notice if both of us are missing.”

But he doesn’t stop and you don’t want him to.

Your fingers fumble clumsily with the buttons of his shirt, crisp and white, you’d ironed it yourself.

He laughs and you feel it in your chest, as if it had been your own chuckle, your amusement, not his. It rings in your ears in a way that makes you wish you could hear it again and again. You grin broadly at him, and he grins back. All teeth, his blue eyes glint with each sinful thought that crosses his mind. He is so beautiful.

“The things I wanna do to you, doll,” he muses.

You hastily push the fabric away from his shoulders, hands on his bare skin. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d already unzipped the side of your dress, but then he lets go of your thigh to draw the straps from your shoulders and let the jewel toned gown fall to the floor in a pool of rich fabric.

“I could have just pulled the dress up,” your words are sound slurred together, they interrupt the clash of lips, teeth, and tongue.

Bucky shakes his head and he’s breathless, pulling both of your legs around his waist. The wall’s surface is cool against your bare back. “I want to feel you.”

And he does.

His hands touch every inch of your body, holding you close as you pant out his name. Your fingers get entangled in the waves of chestnut brown (ruining the neat bun that had been knotted at the nape of his neck). Bucky tucks his face into the crook of your neck, his grunts send chills up and down the length your spine. His teeth graze your collarbone when you tug at his hair, his hands clutch at the backs of your thighs.

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses quietly.

Your fingertips dig into his shoulders, you tilt your head back and it bumps against the wall. You don’t care enough to think about, too engrossed by the rush of excitement pooling inside of you. But then Bucky’s hand grabs your chin, his thumb drags down across your lips and he meets your longing gaze. You wind your arms around his neck, little space between your faces. You inhale and exhale the same air, parted lips almost close enough to touch. He says your name, quietly, he breathes it. Your breath nearly catches in your throat. There’s a crease between his brows and his lower lip is caught between his teeth. His hands hold you tightly, as if he’s afraid you might slip from his grasp at any moment.

His movements grow quicker and less precise. “Y/N,” he pants when your noses touch, his eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes are dark against his flushed cheeks. You will yourself to keep yours open, but you can’t. Bucky moans and the tightly wound coil that had formed in the pit of your stomach finally snaps. The snap of his hips grows more sloppy with each moment, he finds his release in time with yours.

The sound of your name on his lips is a whisper that’s barely there, just a wispy exhale of air, but he says it all the same. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…Again and again and again. It sends chills down your spine, you hold him closer.

He kisses you on your lips, wet and painfully slow. His hips adopt a languid pace, you struggle to catch your breath, so does he. He gleams with a thin sheen of sweat. He’s the most handsome creature you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“Bucky.”

He kisses your neck, right back at where he started.

You buttoned up his shirt and he zipped up your dress. You combed your fingers through his hair and pulled it into a low knot. A warm, comfortable silence blooms. He touches your cheek with gentle fingertips as you wiped the traces of your lipstick from his skin.

“What?” you asked, with a raised brow. There was something anticipatory in his lingering gaze. “I’m irresistible, huh doll?”

When you rolled your eyes he laughed. Childish, but good-natured as always, yet there was still something his was withholding.

“What?” you ask again, playfully impatient.

You see his jaw clench and he exhales loudly through his nose, his expression growing thoughtful, but only for a split second.

“Nothing,” he says too quickly. He glances down at his watch and grins crookedly, “Just think, doll, if I can do that to you in under ten minutes, think about what we could do with thirty...or an hour...or a whole night.”

Bucky speaks with a manner that seems nonchalant, but part of you knows that he’s rather serious. You know the implications of such a charged suggestion: How serious is this? We both know we aren’t ‘just friends’, why keep it a secret?

But you weren’t ready to answer the unspoken questions, so you just smile and smooth out the wrinkles in his white shirt, hoping he hadn’t caught a whiff of your apprehension.

Bucky leaves the comfort of the cramped janitor’s closet (the spot for all of your most recent trysts) first. He had told you it was better that your arrival times were staggered, rather than arriving together. He glances down at his watch, he only had about ten minutes before she arrived.

Before turning down the hall towards the ballroom he turns his head to look at you, but you’ve already shut the door. He walks to the ballroom alone, flushed in the face. While he stands outside and waits he thinks about the way you clutched onto him and that moment when he’d peered into your eyes. Those innocent, heavy lidded eyes, caught in the midst of ecstasy. The taste of you was stuck on his mouth like beer on the lips of an alcoholic.

You leave the closet almost immediately after Bucky because the air still is charged with an odd, indescribable tension and you can still smell his cologne in the cramped space. You slip away and spend time in a the mirror, adjusting your hair and fixing your makeup. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you smiled, though you weren’t exactly sure why. You leaned forward and looked closely at your neck and collarbones. No marks, you had sternly told him. And though he often liked to annoy you by placing a hickey at the base of your neck or at the spot near your jaw, beneath the ear, he hadn’t tonight. Your own fingertips ghosted across your neck. It felt hot still, as if his lips had only been there seconds ago.

You wait an even thirty minutes before you head to the party.

“Fashionably late as always, huh?”

It’s Steve approaches you with a good-natured smile and two champagne flutes in hand.

“That’s the only reason to ever be late to anything,” you lie, accepting on of the glasses with an appreciative smile.

He laughs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, you look great. You all alone tonight?”

You nod. “Why? Need a wingman?”

This makes him laugh.

When you see Bucky again it’s about an hour into the party. You spent time sipping at champagne and making small talk with a few friends, making rounds with Steve (who was also dateless), but all the while you had been scanning the large room for him. You didn’t know what for, you were both rather hesitant to seem too chummy in a public setting like this, but there was something about him tonight that had made you want more. You wanted more of him, even if that meant faking a strictly friendly friendship. You suspected he wanted more of you too. It went beyond his vague suggestion of spending more time together. You had heard it in his call of your name, seen it in the stain of your lipstick on his cheek, felt it with the touch of his thumb to your swollen lips.

You feel him before you see him. He bumps into you by pure coincidence and his hand shoots out to hold your elbow, steadying you.

“Oh, Y/N...sorry about that.” When he smiles it seems odd and half-hearted, but you ignore it. Instead you find yourself focusing on the sudden lump in your throat and your urge to kiss him again and again.

“I was actually looking for you, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh yeah, doll? What’s that?” He was distracted, eyes flitting from you to someplace above your head, someplace behind you. Still, it didn’t seem to register.

“Earlier you said something and I just think that—”

You didn’t know her, a pretty girl with eyes like smokey quartz. Her lipstick was a shade of pink and made her face look washed out. Yours was a shade of red that complimented the glow of your skin tone. You don’t feel embarrassed when her eyes meet yours or when she brushes past you, stopping you mid-sentence, to loop her arm through Bucky’s as if they’re some sort of buy-one-get-one pairing. She kisses his cheek. Her lipstick doesn’t stain him like yours did. You don’t smile or frown, something in you deflates.

“Oh, are you on a date?” you ask Bucky, slowly shifting your gaze from her to him. Your disappointment is apparent in your tone, though you tried desperately to hide it.

He doesn’t sputter for words or fumble for an excuse. He never does. “Yes.”

You nod because you don’t have a right to be angry. You walk away because there’s nothing left for you to say.

Behind you, you think you hear the girl asking, “What was that about?”

That night he is at your door, you know it’s him because of the (unnecessarily) distinctive knock. Two solid raps, brief pause, two, pause, two, then silence. A heartbeat at your door.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

When you open the door he’s leaning against the doorframe, still dressed in his white shirt and dress pants. He looks surprised when the door swings open, then relieved. You wished you didn’t feel anything when you looked at him.

“What’s up, Buck?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t act like this.”

“Like what?”

He sighs, and a quiet settles. Most everything he says is so calculated, picked with care, searching for the most concise way to say what needs to be said. He never struggled to speak, but always took his time in doing so. He never seemed lost, he was always in control. He’d never been one for drawn out conversations, especially when it came to the prospects of your relationship with one another. You were friends first and foremost, you both knew that. Keeping the relationship a secret was the logical thing to do. Friends would treat you the same instead of seeing you as a pair, it would allow the two of you to privately define whatever it was you had. Up until recently the secrecy and the games seemed to work well. It had all been fairly straightforward: he feared commitment, you swore up and down you didn’t want anything too serious with him. You didn’t know you had been lying until tonight.

“Like you aren’t bothered,” he finally says.

The air between you grows taut. You lift and release your brows.

“I don’t have a right to be bothered.”

Respecting the agreement.

“Right…” he says, lips curling into a coy smile, “but you are.”

Silence.

“You were mad at the party, you’re mad now.”

“I’m not mad, Bucky. It’s just—”

“Just what?” He’s leaning forward, arm still on the door frame. He is poison. He thinks this is a game.

“Tonight,” you begin, hating the way he makes you feel, “you—It felt different.” There is a lump in your throat. “It was different and then...and I wanted to tell you, but then I show up and look for you the whole night and turns out, you’re with some girl.” Your bring your eyes up to his and a heat flares in your chest, realization creeping up on you like a cruel shadow. “Is that why you kept looking at your fucking watch?”

You see his jaw tense. He swallows hard. Suddenly he’s serious...and for some reason that makes you angrier.

“Fuck, it makes so much more sense now,” you’re speaking more to yourself than to him at this point. “God, Bucky,” your cheeks puff with the air you exhale through your mouth. “I’m so stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid.”

“Yes, I am, because I actually thought I felt something with you tonight!”

He sends you a warning look: Keep it down. You hadn’t even realized how loud you’d gotten, voice echoing in the hallway. When he pushes past you through your door you don’t stop him, you keep talking.

“Something really—something real! And I was going to tell you that.” You send your gaze to the ceiling in exasperation. “I was going to tell you, can you believe that?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because of that fucking girl, Buck.” You pace the floor, you don’t want to look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. “You knew what the fuck you were doing, you planned this.”

He tries to interject, but there’s no stopping you.

“No, no, you did. I know you did. That fucking watch,” you point to the device on his wrist, “you had this night all scheduled out, huh? Sleep with Y/N, she’s a quick fuck, then get to my real date at the party. That’s fucked up.”

With eyes narrowed: “I didn’t plan things to turn out this way.”

“So she showed up on her own then?”

He shakes his head, this is the first time you ever see him with his lips parted, clumsily searching for the right words to string together. That’s not what I meant.

“Right,” you mockingly quip, looking him in his eye. “You don’t get to do this to me.”

“I’m giving you exactly what you wanted!” The volume of his voice catches you off guard, his face goes hard. “This is what you asked for, you wanted something secret, something quiet, and I’ve given that to you. You wanted this, not me,” he is suddenly seething, hands spread wide and out at his sides. He looks to you with darkened eyes, they seem to hold the vast tumult of the sea. His gaze is frigid. Icy waters.

“Well then...what do you want?” You question venomously, interrupting the weighty silence.

He could have crossed the room to stand close to you, but he keeps his distance. He watches you pace. He watches you watch him.

“I want to be with you.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He shakes his head, face screwed up in disbelief. “You’re the one that didn’t want anything serious!”

“You’re the one that ‘can’t handle commitment’!” You throw finger quotes in his face, he fights the urge to take you by the throat and kiss you until you can’t breathe.

“I have tried to tell you that I want more, but you just fucking brush it off or pretend like you didn’t hear me, when I know that you do. Like tonight. Tonight I didn’t even mean to hint at it, but I did, and what did you do? You fucking ignored it like you do with everything else!”

“I can’t take you seriously, you treat everything like some stupid joke!”

Bucky stares at you open-mouthed and in disbelief, but you know he won’t deny you because you both know that you’re right.

“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he reiterates.

“The watch—”

“Jesus Christ, the watch, the watch, the fucking watch, who gives a fuck about the watch, Y/N?” As he speaks he’s taking the watch off. He holds it by the black leather strap and looks at it as if it disgusts him. “Look, I brought the girl, but it was only because Steve introduced me to her a few days ago. People keep asking about you and me, and it’s so fucking annoying, and I know how badly you wanted to keep this—” he points between the two of you with his forefinger, he’s exasperated, “—a secret! So I invited her, but I told her to come an hour after the party actually starts because I knew I was going to be with you. I wanted to be with you. It just looked good if I walked into the party with her. That’s it. That’s all.”

Bucky stands in front of you with a face that’s open and expected. Lips slightly parted, eyes wide and watchful. The silence swallows you whole.

He had helped you pick your dress before the party (Wow, pretty lady, hot date tonight?). You ironed his shirt, hung it up and kept it crisp. You left late, too caught up in one another to recall the time. He insisted on walking together, but promised to keep a good amount of space between you. If anyone saw it would look strictly platonic. Then he grabbed you by your wrist and tugged you into that goddamn closet despite your half-hearted protests.

We don’t have a lot of time, Buck. We’re already late.

I don’t need much, doll.

“I didn’t think that you’d decide tonight that you wanted something serious,” he admits quietly. When he sighs his shoulders move up towards his ears, then rela again. Half of his mouth quirks upwards crookedly. “Hell, if I knew that, I never would have brought the girl. We wouldn’t have even gone to that stupid party, we would’ve been too busy...doing other things.”

Suddenly you are aware of the heart beating your chest and the warmth of the room. A heat creeps up your entire body, your fingertips seem to buzz. You cross the room, meeting him where he stands.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

He whispers your name quietly, a repetitive sound on his lips. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

You want to hear it again and again and again.

Two hands, one warm, the other cool, rest on either side of your face and you smile. “I want you.” Secret or no secret. “I just want you.”

Bucky kisses you until you feel lightheaded. He kisses you until you’re dizzy and your legs feel wobbly and you can’t tell where you begin and he ends. He touches you with hands spread wide, he wants to feel every part of you. He burns your skin with his hot kisses, a trail of marks left to show where he’s been. You breathe him in until he’s invaded your system, you breathe him in until your lungs are filled to the brim.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

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crystalgemimagines · 7 years ago

Note

i love your stories! If requests are still open, can i make a request for a Jasper x gem/stone reader (preferably something the show hasn't had yet as far as i know like obsidian or emerald) where the reader asks jasper to fuse with her instead of lapis?

Apologies in advance if this wasn’t quite what you were hoping for but I definitely think you’ll like it > u

As always, [Y/N] is where you insert your (or in this case, your gemsona’s) name.

Enjoy ^^ -Mod Rose

Jasper’s hands are clenched as fists, her brows furrowed together as her face begins to tense. You knew exactly what caused this.

Fusion.

It must still be fresh in her mind. Although she didn’t talk about it much after being healed of the corruption, you knew it was still something that ate away at her. That endless battle between an overwhelming power and the mental imprisonment by another gem.

It’s difficult for her to watch; to witness this display acting as if they were anything less than abominations. It hurt worse knowing that there was almost nothing you could do to help.

“Jasper,” you say, reaching over and taking her hand in both of your own. She jumps, lost in her own thoughts and not realizing you had been standing beside her. “It’s alright. We can go elsewhere if it makes you feel better.”

She had been watching the fusions, Garnet and Smokey Quartz, practicing fighting for a little over an hour now. Steven had told you about how they bubbled Jasper after she was corrupted, how she lost to the Quartz fusion. If watching them practice was supposed to help her recover, it wasn’t working.

“I don’t understand. How can anyone just give themselves up to the hands of another gem and not lose who they are?” she asks, her eyes unmoved from the scene before you.

“You should be able to trust the other gem first, I think. Like Garnet said, it’s a conversation, back and forth.” You gently rub her arm as she begins to relax.

Since you two met, you’ve somehow always had a calming affect on the usually booming and aggressive gem. Although she didn’t say much about it, you knew she was always grateful for the support and care from a gem that could somewhat relate to her.

She laughs halfheartedly. “Figures. I was made for fighting, not talking. I guess my track record proves I’m not made for fusion.” Her gaze turns downward, something about it seemed almost….disappointed.

“Jasper,” you say her name again, stepping in front of her large frame and taking her other hand. “Gems can change, you’ve already proven that by how you help the Crystal Gems! Sure, you’ve had a couple of….hiccups with fusion, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try again. Maybe with someone who you trust and who cares for you.”

You gaze up at her and feel a tightness growing inside you; a feeling of longing that you had kept buried from the moment you met. You never wanted to admit how jealous you felt seeing Garnet; their happiness and love for each other igniting a small spark of envy in your heart. If only Jasper felt the same….

There’s silence between you and panic begins to take over that feeling of want. Jasper looks expressionless, her hair partially covering her eyes and you suddenly feel much smaller than you actually are.

“I-I didn’t mean…I was just saying that-,” you cut yourself off, removing your hands from hers and stepping away for a moment. Normally she wasn’t this intimidating, at least not towards you. But now you wanted to run and hide; poof and bubble yourself until she forgets all about you and finds another gem worthy of fusing with.

No.The thought of that was far worse than being shattered.Jasper, happily fused with a different gem. You begin to feel nauseous.

You squeeze your eyes closed and try to shut out the world around you before large hands rest on your shoulders, stopping you from forgetting reality. Now it was your turn to jump, eyes snapping open as you look over and see Jasper behind you, staring down at your smaller frame.

“[Y/N], I uh…..” she begins to speak before sighing. “Look, I’m not a ‘talking’ kind of gem, okay? But I like to do it with you. And I know I can trust you. I mean, I have up until now with everything else. So how about we give it a shot? Not for fighting, not to gain the upper hand. But because of the experience we’ll have together? There’s no one I’d rather fuse with.”

Your expression gave it away, your eyes practically sparkling at her words. That beautiful and confident smile of hers spreads across her lips, causing that tightness in your chest to return again but this time feeling so much better.

In a whirlwind of movement, you now stand facing each other, fumbling in the other’s presence as you try to fit your hands to the right place.

Jasper looks so serious, trying to take this slow and steady, not wanting to mess up. You smile and giggle, placing your hand in hers and another on her waist. “I’ll lead, alright?” you suggest as an orange blush spreads across her cheeks. “Sure, fine, whatever,” she rushes out, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Softly, you begin to hum a tune and lead her in a slow waltz, not moving too far out of the invisible square set beneath your feet. She follows your steps; her brows once again furrowed in concentration. Time seemingly slips away and you continue to dance, Jasper finally beginning to get the hang of it and even going as far as to twirl you.

You both laugh as you spin right into her arms, blissfully unaware of your audience.You never notice the other gems stopping, staring, watching you two as you try to find the rhythm of each other’s steps. It’s a little messy, no one could deny that. But the feeling of being so close, so in tune with each other, it made you glow.

You spin and spin and when you open your eyes….

She’s gone. Or perhaps you are?No, you’re not. You’re there….but she’s there too. You feel larger, unsteady on your feet.

As you stand unsure of yourself, you hear an unfamiliar yet comforting voice speak and you feel that warm tightness again.

“You’re safe, I got you. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

#jasper x reader #gem x reader #jasper x gemsona #crystal gem imagines #su #steven universe #jasper #su jasper #fanfic #mod rose #if someone draws this i think i'll cry #wolfintheblizzard #this is actually really long for a ficlet i'm sorry #its like 1am rn lol anyone awake enough to read this gets a cookie

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