still too tight


Guys!!!! My first @gc2b-apparel binder arrived today!! I’m literally shaking ahhh,, my hair is kinda messy since it took me a few tries to figure out how to put it on aha ;; But!! I’m really happy with it!! I’m actually pretty amazed at how flat it made me. Like, my chest isn’t that big to begin with but it made it a lot flatter ^^ Plus it’s actually pretty comfortable! I’m really happy right now ahh ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧

((Okay to rb!!))

anonymous asked:

Heyo, so like,,,,how do you keep your skin so clear? Like everytime ive seen your face yoire like super cute and your skin looks super smooth. All in all, how does one become as pretty as Ally?-memesol anon

snowcam app is a lie i’m sorry for being a scam.

PAHAHA but really my skin is sensitive and prone to outbreaks so don’t let the camera fool you!!!!! but i’ve been adopting a new routine for skincare since korea trip and it’s really helping to improve my skin condition!! (take note that i live in a tropical climate and have dry/oily combination skin)

as much as make-up helps, do take care of your body inside out too! e.g. what do you eat/drink that causes these outbreaks/excess oil? it’s milk for me!

Keep reading


@im-eren-jaeger-sexual and I were talking about different ways Eren and Levi could meet as kids, and speech therapy was one of them, so I wrote a little drabble for it. 

Eren and his mom walked into the waiting room of the speech therapy office for his weekly appointment. She released his hand and told him to go play quietly while she talked to the receptionist, and Eren looked around, spotting a bookshelf and a toybox in the corner.

There was one other little boy and his mom sitting nearby. The mom smiled at Eren as he passed, but the little boy didn’t even look up from the book in his lap.

Eren immediately went for the red car in the toy box, kneeling on the carpet and making it drive around in circles, imitating car sounds with his mouth. He glanced up to see the other little boy watching him curiously from under a black fringe of hair.

He grabbed another car from the toy box, a blue one this time, and got up, making his way over to where the grey-eyed boy sat, holding it out for him to take. The mom watched with interest from behind her own book, but the boy only ducked his head shyly.

Eren thought maybe the boy didn’t know how to play with cars, so he decided to show him. He sat back on the floor, making the cars zip back and forth in front of him, more of the obnoxious car sounds leaving his mouth. Suddenly, he made them smack into each other.

“Ka’boom!” He said loudly, tossing the cars aside as if they’d exploded.

The dark-haired boy giggled quietly and Eren gave him a bright grin in return. Picking up the cars again, he handed the blue one to the boy and this time he took it, sliding out of his chair and leaving the book forgotten on the seat.

Remembering his manners, Eren introduced himself. “I’m Ewen, what’s yo’ name?”

The other boy fiddled with the car in his hands before glancing over his shoulder at his mom, who gave him an encouraging nod over her book. Turning back, he said slowly, “L-Le-Levi.”

Eren’s mom sat down beside Levi’s mom and they began to chat, so Eren grabbed Levi’s hand, leading him over to the toybox. They found some blocks and began building a city for the cars to drive through. Levi didn’t seem to like to talk much, only answering Eren’s questions with a single word, and asking none of his own.

“How o’wd ah you?” Eren asked, placing a troll doll at the entrance of his block building.

Levi paused before answering each question, as if thinking hard about his answer. “Fou-fi-five.”

“I’m fo’w,” Eren replied with a smile, holding up four fingers. Levi smiled back.

Eren was known for his silly antics in his kindergarten class, always doing things to make the other kids laugh. He wanted to make Levi laugh some more, so he drove the little red car into his block tower, knocking them all down on top of the troll doll.

Levi snickered behind his hand, his laughter growing louder when Eren picked up the troll doll and made him stomp around angrily over the rubble, demanding to know who destroyed his castle.

“I’ve never seen him get along so well with another child before,” Kuchel commented, amazed, as she watched the boys play.

“That’s Eren for you, making friends wherever he goes,” Carla replied with a laugh as her son tickled the other boy’s nose with the doll’s long hair.

Soon, they were both called in for their respective appointments and reluctantly put the toys away, saying goodbye to each other. When Eren was finished with his session he came out, immediately looking around the room for Levi.

“Whey is Weebai?” He asked his mom.

“He might have already left, sweetie,” She answered, taking his hand and leading him to the exit.

Just then another office door opened and Levi stepped out. The dark-haired boy looked up in surprise as Eren called out his name and ran over to him, and smiled shyly when the brunet grabbed his hand, tugging on it excitedly.

“Can Weebai pway wif me some mo’?” Eren asked the other boy’s mom.

Levi turned a questioning gaze on her as well and she smiled down at them. “Well, there is a nice park around the corner. If it’s alright with your mom, we could go there for a bit.”

Carla agreed and the boy’s ran out the door, hand in hand, already nearing the sidewalk before Carla and Kuchel had even left the building.

“Do you wanna be my best fwend, Weebai?” Eren asked, swinging their arms back and forth between them as they walked.

“O…Okay,” Levi nodded, pausing before adding, “I-I’ve n-ne-never had a b-best fr-friend b-before.”

“Dat’s okay, you do now! And I’ll be yo’ best fwend fo’evah,” Eren told him solemnly, holding the gate to the park open for his new friend, and Levi gave a shy smile in return.

Twenty-four year old Eren tugged at the tie around his neck for what felt like the hundredth time.

“It still feels too tight, Levi,” He whined and the other man rolled his eyes, reaching up to adjust it for the third time.

“Better?” He asked, resting his hands on the taller man’s chest, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. Eren smiled and nodded before closing the gap between them and kissing him softly on the mouth. They stayed like that for a moment until Eren’s hands slid around Levi’s waist, trying to pull him closer.

Refusing to get caught up in Eren’s charm, Levi laughed, breaking the kiss and pushing him away. “Okay, okay, save it for the reception. You know Hanji will be making us kiss all night.”

“I look forward to it,” Eren said easily, winking at his soon-to-be-husband.

Levi held out his hand and Eren took it, swinging their arms gently between them as they faced the entrance to the church where they were about to be married.

“You ready?” Levi asked quietly, squaring his shoulders.

“Of course. I promised to be your best friend forever, didn’t I, Weebai?” Eren replied with a grin. Levi gave him a warm smile in return and together they pushed open the doors and walked down the aisle.

-tessylation-  asked:

the chocobros and their s/o attend a masquerade ball and the bros try their best to be suave and mysterious?

Whew. Sorry this took so long but this was such a wonderful request that I wanted to try and do it justice.I LOVE MASKS (I actually collect them). I really hope you like this because I had so much fun writing out these little drables. Sorry they’re a little long :) I got a little carried away.

Word Count: 3053



The ball was being held in your honor and you were the center of attention. Your dress was tight and elegant but tasteful and quite flattering. The mask that Noctis had made especially for you for the event was fashioned from a thing and delicate metal hand-painted a marriage of blues and greens, setting off your sparkling eyes. Everything about you screamed royalty and refinement despite being raised outside of any form of a royal life. It was as if you had been born to be a princess.

Noctis had been pulled away by one nobleman after another. Everyone wanted to congratulate the new couple and assure the young prince they supported his decision to wed a commoner. In fact, the decision had been insanely popular amongst the general Lucian population. Each time Noct tried to slip away and finally take you into his arms, someone else stepped into his path, It was getting harder and harder to watch as men – both young and old – gently touched your arm, allowed their eyes to wander across your beautiful form, or earn the twinkling laughter than always made the prince’s stomach flutter with butterflies.

Ignis appeared from somewhere behind Noctis and gracefully took over the conversation. Noctis caught his subtle nod before navigating the crowd toward you. Gladio called out to a young man that was making a b-line for the prince and Prompto stumbled through a sloppy greeting with another. Finally, Noctis’ gloved hand traced across your bare shoulders before he gently pulled you by your waist towards him. “Good evening, princess.” He dropped his voice several octaves and did his best Iggy impression in hopes of channeling his elegant speech.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sound of the breathy honey-filled words as they filtered into your ears over the hum of the party around you. Without turning, you knew your fiancée was the one gripping you so sweetly and carefully, as if to shield you from the world. You were thankful that he stood behind you and couldn’t see the thrilled smiled you had no hope of hiding. You had missed him all night. “Good evening,” you drawled in your own accent. “I must warn you, sir, my fiancée will be awfully jealous if he sees us in such a position. And in front of all these people,” you covered your mouth with a lace wrapped hand to stifle a giggle.

Noctis chuckled and lightly trailed his fingers down your arm. He hummed, pleased at the sight of the goosebumps running over your flesh. “Allow me one dance,” he begged in his trademark whine, the accent barely audible.

One step forward and Noctis swept you around the floor, joining the already flowing circle of couples. Your dress fanned around you as he spun you to face him, your noses touching before he placed a kiss to your forehead. “You really are breathtaking.” He spoke in his usual quiet, reserved voice. The blush that peaked below his plain golden mask was enough to let you know his cheeks were burning. Ever your nervous prince.

“Have you looked in a mirror today? You’re not so bad yourself.” You winked beneath your mask as he twirled you once more, your skirts spinning around you before he pulled you close to his chest.

Your lips met in the sweetest of kisses. It didn’t last long enough to satisfy the need you felt burning in your chest but you were surrounded by the most important people in the kingdom and some foreign dignitaries. That would have to wait until later. When you parted, applause erupted in a mixture of “aw’s” and one “he’s quite the lucky man” from King Regis himself. Apparently, everyone in attendance had stopped to watch the two of your twirl and dance around the room.

“Guess they like us?” You nervously laughed and hid your face in Noct’s chest.

Noctis did his best to cover you with his arms, knowing your face would be redder than his own. “I think this is all you.”


Being invited to a royal function, one that was bound to be filled with the most important and powerful people in the realm, was enough to have Prompto preemptively sweating. Putting on the elegant black on black suit, picked out by Noctis and nearly identical to the one he wore minus the pinstripes, only made matters worse. Maybe Noctis had seen this coming and picked the black for that reason alone.

The nervous blonde stuck close to Gladio who stood sentry at the main entrance. Though he was off duty and dressed in his own custom suit, he relaxed against the wall as he spoke with several glaives that had been assigned to the post.  Prompto was doing his best to act as if he were interested in the conversation as he scanned the room for you. His heart sank, fear pooling in his veins before he finally caught sight of you tucked into a corner of the room.

Though you were half hidden by a column nearly twice as wide as you, the unmistakable sound of your laughter filtered through his ears and he found himself smiling like a love struck schoolgirl. There was no mistaking you. The mask you wore was more for show than actual concealment. The thin plastic had been molded to you face and painted a glittering silver with more holes in the design than actual material. It went perfectly with the back dress the clung to you in all the right places.

Gladio gave Prompto a shove in your direction before laughing at a lewd joke Nyx Ulric had made about another member of the glaive. The girl beside him punched his arm with a half-smile as Prompto positioned his own silver mask onto his face. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself as he skirted the room to you, he cleared his throat and smoothed his hair to be sure it behaved for once. He bowed once he reached you in a practiced motion that he managed to make graceful and flowing rather than jerky and out of place.

“You, my lady, are a gift from the Astrals themselves. Tell me, what have I done to make the Six smile down upon me with such favor?” The words rolled off his tongue easily as he stood to his full height and forced his warm, ocean gaze to yours. He had practiced the line until he was blue in the face and had essentially traded his soul to Ignis in order to recruit his help. The words had been his idea and judging by the blush that colored your cheeks and the giggle it earned, Prompto decided it had been the right call.

The silver mask he wore was meant to match your own but covered much more of his identity. Even If his light golden hair had managed to cooperate, you would know the eyes of your lover anywhere. Always so warm and inviting, like Galden Quey even on the worst of days. “The gods do not reveal their secrets,” you inclined your head slightly towards him. “Though perhaps I am the one who has been blessed.”

Prompto coughed in an attempt to cover up the small squeak that your words had caused. Your friends giggled where they stood beside you and you waved them off. Using the column as cover from anyone other than your friends, you closed the small distance between the two of you and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. His hands naturally found the small of your back as he pulled you closer for a moment.

“How did you know it was me?” He asked when you parted.

Shaking your head, you pulled your mask from your face and handed it off to a friend. “We agreed on matching outfits. And I would know my gunslinger anywhere,” you promised with another kiss.


Tonight was Gladio’s night off – a rare thing for the Shield of the future king. The party was in full swing by the time he had managed to get into the monkeys suit that he felt was still a little too tight despite Ignis’ assurance that the tailor had followed the measurement precisely. He had ditched the tie the second the strategist had stepped from the room. His shirt was unbuttoned one button lower than was probably proper, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He wore the dark red mask – the color of dried blood, he thought – and stood posted by the door.

His large frame fit perfectly in the space just inside the grand entrance and a support column. Naturally, he sought a position where he could post up, survey the room to analyze it for exits and entrances, and to study the crowd. He frowned momentarily at the Champaign in his glass, expensive, sweet, and no matter how much he wished it to be, it wasn’t the cheap beer chilling in the fridge in his own fridge at home. He hated Champaign but he hated small talk more and drinking at least gave him an excuse to be anti-social. Prompto rattled on about something to his side, Noctis was apparently listening enough to encourage him to continue. Ignis had already lectured Gladio on his appearance and had moved on to greeting several of the nobles in attendance. Grumbling, Gladio pushed off from the wall with every intention of texting you to meet him back at his apartment but found himself breathless as you entered the ballroom fashionably late.

Your hair was piled up on top of your head, messy curls falling elegantly and glittering with subtle golden glitter. Your dress was skin tight and deep red. The top of the dress hugged your breasts firmly, a glittering golden band pushing them up as it secured behind your neck and accentuating your already full breasts. The slit running up the side ended just below your hips and allowed a glimpse of your toned and deliciously long leg as you stepped forward. You mask, made of golden glitter and painted so that black eyelashes framed your sparkling eyes, was clutched in your hand. Once you entered the room and every reveler turned to take in your sinful appearance, you slipped the mask on.

He would have known you anywhere, even if you’d worn the mask to begin with. Gladio knew your body with an intimacy that you had never felt before but seeing you clothed in such a revealing yet tasteful dress was enough to have his mouth watering as he approached you. He noticed several other young men turning towards you in hopes of gaining your attention, but one withering look from the human mountain and they retreated.

Large hands roughly grasped your hips and you gasped at the sudden contact. “You look good enough to eat,” the man growled into your ear and a sudden heat rushed to your core. Even without seeing his face, you knew the voice.

“In front of all these people?” You gasped in feigned innocence.

The grip on your hips tightened momentarily before you were pulled into the darkened and secluded corner he had claimed for himself before. Noctis and Prompto had disappeared into the throng of people and the two of you were alone. “I can’t believe you in this dress,” amber eyes burned into yours behind a golden mask.

Biting your lip, you fluttered your eyelashes behind your own mask. “You don’t like it?”

Gladio pressed his hips against yours, effectively thrusting his growing erection against your front through your thin gown. “Oh, I love it. I think everyone else does, too.” He smiled at the gasp that escaped you before bowing his head to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

“Don’t tell me you’re not going to let me enjoy the party. Especially after I got all dressed up,” you pouted.

Gladio stepped back, creating some space between the two of you and ran a hand through his already messy hair. “I think you might enjoy our time a little more.”

You couldn’t help giggling at the sight of Gladio struggling to contain himself. You knew he would never do something to embarrass himself, the crown, or you in front of so many important people. Yet, you couldn’t deny the thrill his behavior sent through you. It was wonderful knowing you were his one weakness. “So, we schmooze a little, dance a little, drink a lot, and sneak off for own party?” You stole a kiss before pulling him back out into the dimly lit party.

Gladio kissed you again, this one longer and just forceful enough to elicit a whine from you, before waving to a member of the council as he approached. Your head spun as you bowed, your arm threaded through the young Shield’s for balance as well as show, and greeted the elderly man.

Your family name required you to smile and laugh at every poor joke and to interject only whenever appropriate. The two of you worked the room just as well as any noble couple would be expected to. Ignis, Noctis, Regis, and Clarus each took a turn speaking with the two of you. Once all the names had been crossed from your list and Gladio had achieved the perfect buzz from the expensive wines being served, he pulled you onto the dancefloor for one dance. Although he claimed to hate it, his feet navigated the elegant steps perfectly and he pulled you along in his strong arms with confidence.

“You’re good at this,” you mused as he twirled you carefully once before pulling you close to his chest once more.

Raising an eyebrow behind his mask, he smirked. “You what else I’m good at,” he purred into your ear.


Halfway through a conversation with a visiting dignitary from Altissa, Ignis’ cool gaze was pulled from the elderly man to the center of the ballroom. You were there, your hair curled and braided just messily enough to scream effortless while still looking elegant without trying. Your dress was green and hung just off your shoulder and fell in a trumped shape to the marble floor. Again, the dress was simple but somehow stunning as it hugged you in all the right places.

“My apologies, sir, but I’m afraid there is something I must…see too.” Ignis bowed his head slightly in respect before slipping into the crowd. He noticed the wine glass carefully resting in your relaxed hand and how it reflected against the mirrored mask you had chosen. The small hand mirror you had sent him earlier than evening had been his only hint as to what you would be wearing and he mentally applauded your choice.

Ignis had smoothed his hair, long from lack of time to have it properly trimmed, back from his face in a sort of vintage pompadour style, a single rogue lock falling into his seafoam eyes and onto the plain back mask. His classic suit and thin black tie added to his classic look. He smirked, quirking one corner of his pale pink lips to the side as he approached you. “You, my darling, look positively ravishing. Surely a creature so divine is without an escort?” Though his speech was the same, he did his best to disguise his accent.

Your cheeks burned a beautiful rosy color as you curtseyed in greeting. For all his efforts, Ignis did look quite different from his normal self. However, you were just as sharp as the strategist and you knew your lover well enough not to be fooled by his appearance. “It appears I’ve been forgotten. Perhaps I could find someone else to keep me company this evening.” You sipped casually on the wine in your hand.

“Such a man would be a fool to leave you unguarded. Allow me, my lady.” Ignis offered his arm and waited for you to take it before guiding you towards the other dancers. He paused to allow you deposit your now empty glass onto the tray of an offering waiter before spinning you elegantly in time to the music.

You fell into step with Ignis with such ease that it was difficult to keep up the act. He was a perfect gentleman and kept his hands properly in the small of your back and clasped your hand delicately in his own. You noticed the appraising gaze of several around the room at your show. “I must say, you are quite the dancer, sir.”

“Come now, my love, surely you have not forgotten my touch,” he purred into your ear as he dipped you low and supported your weight with his arms. His eyes sparkled behind his mask with mischief before he pulled you pack to your full height. He removed his mask with one hand while keeping you close.

An airy giggle escaped you as you covered your mouth with your silken gloves. “Oh my, Ignis, I had no idea you were such a skilled dancer.”

With a chuckle, Ignis carefully removed your mirrored mask so as not to disturb your makeup or hair. “Must you tease me?” He chided you with a click of his tongue.

Rising further onto your toes than your shoes already forced you, you stole a chaste kiss and blushed at the chorus of “awe’s” that filtered over the elegant music. “Never, my love.” Leaning close, you whispered so that your breath fanned over his ear, “I would never forget your touch, Iggy.”

The only indication that Ignis heard you was the tightening of his grip where his hands rested at your side, forcing you closer to his front. The pressure was enough to let you know that you had cracked his cool mask of composure. He was barely holding himself together and that knowledge sent a thrill through you. He let your name slip through his lips in a hushed whisper. “Perhaps we should take out leave of this soiree.”

“Lead the way, my love,” you laughed and laced your arm through his once more. Once you had retrieved your coat, Ignis helped you into it and steered you towards the exit of the citadel. Smirking, you pressed the key to your apartment into his hand before climbing into his sleek town car.

Let me apologize - Reggie Mantle.

Originally posted by softieashton

( lets just enjoy the gif ) 

I was washing the few dishes from breakfast when I felt his presence behind me. The tumbler I was rising fell from my hands and into the warm water when he placed his hands on my waist, his fingers playing across my stomach.

“Sorry,” he said, his mouth at my right ear. “I’m an asshole.”


“No sweetheart. Let me apologize.” He said kissing the shell of my ear, pulling my ear lobe into his mouth and sucking. His hand slid into the waistband of my pajama pants and into my panties; cupping my pussy, middle finger easing inside me.

“Oh, Reggie,” he grunted, thumbing my clit. Slick with my wetness, he trailed a finger down my slit, massaging my inner walls as he went along.

My hands were on the edge of the sink now, locked tight. His other hand firmly grasping my breast and pulling at the beaded nipple. I sucked in a sharp breath, sticking my own hand down my pants to keep his there. He made a soft sound in his throat, burying his fingers to the knuckles deep within me and pulling them out, repeating the motion.

Spreading the lips of my pussy wide open and fucked me this way. He set a slow rhythm like that and it was quickly driving me out of my mind.

“Fuck My fingers, sweetheart,” he rasped against the side of my neck. “Come on my hand.”

The sound of my heavy breathing filled my ears even as my blood rushed to them, drowning everything out. I was writhing against his hand, drawing him even further into me. Desperate. I could smell myself in the air, the kind of smell that screamed of lust and satisfaction and all things pleasurable.

 My eyes were closed, shutting out the light of the sink filled with water, shutting out my debauched reflection in the bare windows… And then I was shuddering through my orgasm, biting on my lip to keep me from screaming. 
The warm liquid of my release trailed down my thighs. Panting, I crumpled in half over the sink, desire licking its way along my body when Reggie wrenched my pants down. He paused at the lace waistband of my underwear, tracing it with his fingers. I wanted to tell him to hurry up but my mouth wouldn’t work.
Instead, I made a sound of surprise when he tore at my panties, pulling them at my hip bones.
“Jesus” I breathed.

“Reggie.” He growled, kicking my legs apart at the ankles with his toes. I didn’t want to fixate over what I looked like bent over like this. He was busy ripping at something again, something I could only imagine was a square foil packet.

“Reggie.” I moaned at the first feel of his penis against me. So big I hadn’t imagined it the last time. Only, like this? From this angle? Incredible.

“I’m an asshole,” he mumbled, pressing forward all the way to the hilt. His hands were on my hips, pulling me back to meet him so that his groin was pressed flush against my ass.

He didn’t give me the time to adjust to his size before he drew back and thrust back into me. “I’m so” – thrust – “fucking” – thrust – “sorry.”

I moaned again. Loudly. It was too much. I was still too tight and he was still too big and when he gained momentum, his skin slapping against mine, I realized that passing out from pleasure could actually be a reality. I could hardly stand on my own, he was holding me up, and yet I managed to push back against him, meeting his every thrust.

Why was he even apologizing for again? Yelling at me? Who the hell even cared?
And still, with every thrust of his cock into me, he said he was sorry. Said he was an asshole. Said I should forgive him.
I felt filled by him, surrounded entirely by him. He was a savage force, a dangerous presence. He set a lighting pace, driving himself in and out, in and out of me. Driving me delirious with pleasure.

“Yes,” I was gasping, over and over and over like a chant.
Yes to what? Yes, he was an asshole? Yes, I forgive him? Didn’t know, didn’t care.

In this moment between us, the only thing I cared about was an exhilarating feeling of losing myself in orgasm, I could tell. The now-familiar heat in my belly, warming my insides and stinging my skin… It was intensifying, growing to a raging inferno.

Reggie roared something loud and unintelligible and slammed himself deep into me so hard it was painful. He’d hit something inside me as he released himself. Feeling him so deep inside me, hearing him lose control - it threw me over. I cried when I came; actual tears that pooled at the corners of my eyes. Reggie’s climax became mine until I was exhausted from the feeling too much, from the sheer agony of being so greatly satisfied.

I felt sucker-punched when it was all over when I could collapse over the sink and recover. My pulse was too quick and my skin felt clammy. Reggie’s body covered mine, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He was still inside me, still part of me.

“I hate it when you look at me like you hate me,” he said after a while, his voice husky. “Don’t look at me like that again.”

“You infuriate me, but I don’t hate you.”

“You pretty much infuriating yourself, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” I said with a laugh. It died down just as quickly.

Reggie soft kiss on my neck made me feel like crying again. He didn’t say anything, just continued pressing light kisses to my skin until my mood gradually shifted and I self better.

“Thank you,” I spoke softly, releasing a sigh when he slowly pulled out from me. Breathing deeply, I forced my brain and legs to work together so that I could turn around. Pulling my pants back up was optional at this point.

“Where…where are your clothes?”

“Babe, you’ve seen it all before,” he pronounced with a leer, reaching for my pajama top he popped the first button down the front, then the second, and so on. I watched his fingers work until he’d unbuttoned every other button and was pulling my shirt down the curves of my shoulders and throwing it to the kitchen floor

“That’s better,” he said, tipping my chin upwards, “Hey.”


His lips collided against mine, soft and hard. A soft moan left my lips and his tongue slipped inside, tangling with mine. He kissed me until I forgot everything but his name. Reggie’s hard body was pressed against mine, my breast crushed against him. It felt like every inch of him was touching me – including the wet latex-encased erection he was currently poking against my belly. Eventually, we pulled apart, our heavy breathing filling the silence. He had a soft look in his eyes, and it quickly disappeared, replaced by something else. Something darker. Something sinful.

I shook my head as if refusing it. “Bed. I’m going to bed.” I said under my breath, stopping to gather up my PJs. My eyes skated down to Reggie’s dick.
“I, uh, think you should throw that away. The condom; not your, um, penis.”

“Come to my bed.” Reggie suddenly uttered, snatching my ruined panties from the floor. He put them to his nose, inhaling loudly.

Horrified, I tried to rip them from his hands. “Reginald, stop doing that,” I hissed.

“Give them to me.”

He gave me a sly grin, holding them out of my reach. “You’re adorable you know that?”

“I’m going to bed alone, Reggie”

“Your loss. I can fuck you all night.”

I gulped. “Pretty sure overdosing on Viagra have a negative outcome on your dick.”

“Sticks and stones, baby. Sticks and stones.” He said chuckling

I let him go upstairs first, realizing not for the first time that Reggie Mantle was beginning to grow on me.

Kind of like a pimple.

hope you enjoyed it loves x

100 ways to say “I love you” | 18

Originally posted by kuromel

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, drabble

Word count: 1157

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, vomiting, casual/nonserious mentions of death

100 ways to say “i love you” ➞ 18. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Keep reading

“You do know it is impolite to scowl, Papa.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow, his daughter giggling at the look of annoyance. “Papa?”

“It’s what the Orlesians say.”

“It is most definitely not what you say, then.”

“I fear I rather like it.”

He scoffed, ignoring the smug grin his eldest child wore, glancing around the room. So little had changed at the Winter Palace in so many years, most notably his disdain for the place. Even for a simple luncheon, the ludicrous outfits and stifling decoration made him loathe even the immaculately perfect sandwiches laid out. His uniform was still too tight, and the scratch of the fabric in the summer warmth was miserably uncomfortable. This had been his wife’s idea, accepting the damn invite and playing the adoring visitors. On hindsight, he should have simply refused to entertain the idea entirely.

“The sooner this is over, the better.”

“You are just no fun, Papa.”

Cullen flinched at the use of the title again, scowling down at her. “And just where is your brother?!”

“Having his cheeks pinched and being fed fancy little cakes.”

His gaze followed his daughter’s guiding point and fell on his youngest child, who was happily perched on a chair surrounded by Orlesian women cooing over him, traitorous icing ringing his mouth, crumbs littering rounded cheeks, and looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

Mon petit, would you like another cake?”

“Is he not the most darling babe?”

So exquisitely like his father. The curls!”

“And the provincial Ferelden charm!”

“Speak the Chant again, mon chou.”

The youngster took the last bite of his most recent cake and cleared his throat, fairly obviously hamming it up for his audience, golden eyelashes fluttering as he pulled an exaggeratedly pious face.

I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here.

There were squeals of adoration, accompanied by disgustingly cute little claps, and Cullen wondered just when his son had transformed from the usually wild little heathen, covered in dirt and terrorising the tower guard, to this saintly child spouting the Canticle of Trials, with perfectly neat golden ringlets, a pristine uniform and holding the adoration of near half the Orlesian court with an angelic pout. As he glared at his daughter’s triumphant smirk, the boy chose that moment to glance over, face filling with delight at the sight of him, and the very words that left his mouth chilled his blood.

“Daddy! There you are!”

At once, there were several sets of eyes upon him, peals of delight and the feigned gasps accompanying them, and he felt a nudge at the back of his leg as his daughter skipped into the crowd, golden curls bouncing innocently as she grinned over her shoulder, abandoning him with little mercy.

“Enjoy, Papa!”

Commander! Won’t you join us!”

Andraste preserve him. He hated Halamshiral.

Pardon Me

pairing: lafayette x reader
words: 2800
warnings: none except this sucks lmao
summary/request: (from anon) from what I’ve read on history books, Lafayette is p clumsy. Could u do a fic where Lafayette tries (TRIES) to dance with the reader? Thanks!

Another ball, another opportunity to be bored to death while every bachelor (eligible or not) in Northern Virginia threw themselves at you. It was tiring, really, and you knew that the (usually) young men didn’t care about you or what you were like. All that mattered to them was the huge sum of money that you would inherit upon the death of your parents, who were wealthy Virginian socialites.

Your parents supported the rebellion and knew many of the men who served as driving forces behind it. There was never a week that wasn’t full to the brim with calls to make and balls to attend and host. Especially the latter.

Your mother was extremely superstitious about the whole affair. She wanted you to be married off before your twentieth birthday, some old family tradition of obscure origins. You disagreed with this philosophy and were extremely frustrated by the fact that she felt the need to host a ball nearly every other week. The sole purpose of these parties were to find a man of wealth who liked you. Somehow, the aspect of you liking the man was always overlooked.

However, all of your anger and frustrated thoughts flew out the window on the night the Marquis de Lafayette was a guest at your mother’s ball.

The day hadn’t been a great one. By your mother’s reckoning, she only had time for two well-planned balls before you turned twenty, not including the big birthday bash she was bound to organize. She ordered you to begin dressing five hours before the party even started. “You need to be ready. We’re running out of time to find you a suitor.” You had only sighed and given as respectful a yes, mother as you could manage. When it came time to begin preparations, you walked to your room, where your maidservant, Millie, who was about forty years of age (no one knew her date of birth for sure), waited.

“Hello, Millie,” you sighed.

“‘Lo, Mistress (Y/N),” she responded. “My, but you sho’ are lookin’ all down.”

“I know.” You heaved another sigh. “I’m just frustrated with my mother. It’s almost as if she thinks I like being squeezed into a corset for hours so that I can barely breathe and then being displayed to every single man in Virginia.”

“Now, now, Miss (Y/N). It cain’t be all that bad. You’re a pretty girl; why don’t you like all the attention?”

“It’s disgusting and tiring! The only men who come to Mother’s balls are bothersome wretches who don’t care a cent about me. They only see the wealth, the estate.” You gestured helplessly.

“I cain’t say I disagree. But you hafta make the best of it. And your mammy will have my skin if I don’t get you all fancied up. Now hold still.” It seemed as if you would never stop sighing.

First, you had to strip down to your chemise. Then, Millie laced up your corset so tightly you could hardly breathe. “Looser,” you gasped, as your cheeks filled with too-brilliant color and the room began to spin. She let out the strings and retied them. Much better, but still too tight. At least you could now breathe and had the illusion of a desirable hourglass figure. You hoped your mother was satisfied.

She had picked out a new dress with you a few days ago, a sweet ball gown that you had immediately fallen in love with. Your mother thought it wasn’t revealing enough, but after a few minutes of arguing back and forth, you won. “All right, but don’t blame me if not a single man is interested,” she said, feigning a resigned air with her palms upturned in a hopeless gesture. You knew it was modest compared to most of the dresses the other women would be wearing, but you didn’t want to show yourself off in that way. It was a beautiful dress and you knew it would be comfortable and relatively cool. As long as you felt safe, that was what mattered. As soon as Millie pulled it over your head and settled it, a grin crept over your face. You couldn’t help it, it just looked so pretty.

“That’s the spirit,” she said, grinning at you.

Next came your hair. After pondering for a moment, the two of you decided to leave off the wigs and unnecessary powder. You would wear your hair down in loose curls, with only a cluster of gardenias from your flower patch as ornament. You had your doubts that your mother would approve, but it didn’t matter. Then came the final touches—dancing slippers and a small pearl necklace and earrings—and your ensemble was complete. You were going to put on rouge, but your cheeks were rosy enough thanks to the corset cinching your torso. It had taken you an hour and a half to get ready, and Millie looked at her “massuhpiece” with a smug look of satisfaction upon her face.

“Well, Miss (Y/N), if you don’t find a man tonight, with you lookin’ so purty, then my name’s Mud.” You giggled; she never failed to cheer you up.

“It’s all your doing. Thank you, Millie!” You then made your way to your mother’s room for inspection, and knocked on her door.

“It’s me, Mother. I’m ready.” The door immediately opened.

“Come in, dear.” Her smile was soon replaced with a scowl. “Wherever is your wig?” she asked you. “You know you can’t possibly attend without one!” You sighed, any excitement now erased.

“I’m not wearing one, Mother. I want to be myself tonight.” She huffed.

“You are impossible. I wash my hands of the whole affair. If you aren’t married by your birthday, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You stormed out of her room, not trusting yourself to speak, and back into yours. Millie was tidying the dressing area and she looked up, startled, as you came in and plopped angrily into a chair.
“Why, didn’t she like ya?” she asked, looking worried now.

“You can’t possibly attend without a wig,” you screeched in a perfect imitation of your mother. Millie’s face melted.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she cried. “I think you’ll find someone tonight! You have to!”

Your face gave way to a weary smile. “I’m glad you think so,” you responded. “But I have my doubts.”


You stayed in your room until it was almost time for the ball to start. Somehow, you got a grim satisfaction hearing the wheels of the carriages bearing their esteemed guests to the huge front porch of your mansion. You imagined your mother all in a tizzy, wondering where you were. And, as if she could read your mind, you heard footsteps by your door whose unique rhythm could only be hers. Bracing yourself for the shriek, you opened your door.

“Yes, Mother, what is i—”

“(Y/N)! General Washington is here tonight! With his aide-de-camps and a few of his generals! I need you downstairs now!” Your eyes widened. The most famous man in Virginia was here with his legendary right hand men? Well, at least this ball wouldn’t be lacking in interest.

You rushed down the large marble staircase, hiking up your skirts so as not to trip over them. Your mother followed behind you, muttering to herself. As you entered the dancing hall, you grabbed a card from a table and quickly signed your name at the top. This would be filled out by men and would determine who you danced with for the night. After laying it back down, your mother dragged you to a spot where there was room to move.

“Stay here. I’ll bring people to you,” she said, and disappeared into the growing crowd of people. You tapped your foot impatiently as you scanned the room, returning greetings absently as you searched for Washington and his companions. After greeting three very disgusting young men your mother threw hopefully at you, you realized a shift in the mood of the crowd. The volume had gone significantly down, and small whispers were being exchanged. All eyes turned to the door and you looked right along with everyone else as three men entered the room.

It was obvious who they were. Their military bearing and dashing good looks eradicated any doubt in your mind. General Washington, Colonel Hamilton, and General Lafayette.

Washington was flanked by the other two, one on each side. His bald head was covered by a cocked hat and his tea-colored skin was smooth and seemed to be at odds with his age. He smiled gracefully as he made his way inside. Hamilton looked slightly less polished, with a scruffy, small beard and long hair tied back in a ponytail. He looked around the room at the young women and you smiled. A wandering eye. He shouldn’t be much of a problem; he’d be flirting with another girl as soon as he was done talking with you. Lafayette was another matter.

Although he walked with the same military precision and confidence as the other two, he seemed—shy. He only looked up periodically and he bit his lip as if feeling awkward and out-of-place. He had chocolate-colored skin and black corkscrew curls pulled back in a bun. You secretly thought he was the most handsome of the three.

The quiet was broken by your mother, always the gracious host. “Ah, Generals and Colonel! Welcome!” She went up to them and spoke to them. You couldn’t tell what she was saying, but you knew it had to be about you. Your suspicions were confirmed as the foursome made their way over to you.

“My daughter, (Y/N) (L/N).” You executed a beautiful curtsy, as was the custom. Washington bowed and kissed your hand. Hamilton did the same. But as Lafayette took your hand, he looked into your eyes and smiled.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle.”

“Good evening, sir,” you responded. “We are honored with your presence tonight.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hamilton glance at Washington and grin conspiratorially.

A few minutes later, most everyone had arrived and your mother announced the start of the dancing. You made your way to the card table and picked it up. Your heart raced as you saw the first name. Marquis de Lafayette.

The music began, signaling five minutes to the first dance, and you quickly found him. “Hello again,” you said, smiling shyly.

“Bonjour, mon amie.” He kissed your hand again, and you thought you could almost detect a faint blush rising upon his cheeks. It was hot in the room, however, and you quickly brushed off the color as having to do anything with you. You didn’t realize you were staring at his face until he grinned, a huge smile that stretched ear to ear and made your heart pop up into your throat.

“I am not very good at dancing,” he said. “I am afraid such a—how you say?—accomplished lady as yourself shall be very tired of me before long.” You shook your head.

“It's—it’s all right,” you told him. “I’m not very good myself.” The music began, for real this time, and you shyly placed your arm on his shoulder and he put his around your waist. It held you firmly but tightly, and you bit your lip as color rushed into your face as well.

You began stepping. You knew this dance well, as your mother had forced you to spend hours with a dancing tutor who was “the best of the best.” Lafayette started out in time with the music, but quickly fell behind.

“I am sorry,” he apologized, knitting his brow in intense concentration. You found it very cute.

The dance now called for you to spin away from each other momentarily and then spin back. You executed your twirls perfectly, but Lafayette was still behind and you stumbled as you grasped for an arm that wasn’t there. You let out a strangled gasp as his arms wrapped around you. He smelled of cologne and wool, a scent that was foreign but somehow made you feel comfortable. You looked up and smiled at him, but quickly grew embarrassed as you realized you were still in his arms. Disentangling yourself quickly, though regretfully, you hastily began dancing again. Thankfully, the two of you were the closest couple to the door and no one had seen what had happened.

The dance went without a hitch for the next few measures, but then Lafayette stepped on your foot. “Oh, pardon me, amie,” he cried, sounding distressed. You just smiled.

​​​​​​"It’s all right.“

"You are very talented,” he remarked, as the dance pulled the two of you closer.

“Thank you,” you responded, not believing him a bit. The dance was now coming to an end, and he kissed your hand once more. The look he gave you was lingering and soft, so soft, and your cheeks felt like they were melting. In fact, your whole body seemed to be softening up like butter, and you couldn’t keep an idiotic grin from stretching your face.

“I shall see you later,” he said, and made his way into the mass of people, leaving you feeling as if you were missing something, something you didn’t know you needed.

You were snapped out of your reverie by a male voice. “Miss (Y/N)?” it asked. You turned and saw Colonel Hamilton.


“I believe I have the pleasure of the next dance.” You smiled at him and took his hand.

The two of you spoke as you danced. He was incredibly intelligent and shared many of the same views you did, abolitionism in particular. You found yourself liking him very much, but your mind never strayed far from the Frenchman in the room. You secretly looked around the room as you spun until you spotted him. He was standing against the wall, a champagne glass in his hand, and he was watching you. You started and blushed at the sudden realization.

The night went on as you danced, the two of you sneaking glances at each other whenever possible, looking away if you made eye contact, which happened a lot. But it wasn’t until the last dance that you spoke to him again. He was the last name on your card, and as you looked at it happily, he came up beside you.

“Are you of the opinion that it is stuffy in here?” the handsome Frenchman asked.

“Yes, I was just thinking that myself.”

“Would the mademoiselle care to accompany me outside?” You nodded happily. There was a side door leading to a flowered balcony, and it was the perfect place to spend time with someone—quiet and secluded. As the two of you made your way to the door, you looked behind you to see if your mother was watching. She wasn’t, and you were grateful. You knew she would disapprove.

The night air was blessedly cool, and you let the soft breeze blow across your cheeks and lift tendrils of your hair. Lafayette was admiring the flowers. He picked a fragrant honeysuckle blossom and hesitantly reached out to you. You smiled up at him and he tucked it behind your ear, its perfume wafting into your nose.

“I am very sorry about earlier. I have always wished to dance well, but have never been able to achieve such a goal.” He looked embarrassed and your heart melted.


“Please, call me Lafayette.”

“Lafayette—” a smile “—you were my favorite dance of the night.” A look of genuine shock came over his face, and before you knew it, you had intertwined your fingers with his. He softly rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb and you let out a small sigh, the first happy one of the day.

“(Y/N), I know that we have only known each other a short time and your beauty and talents far surpass mine, but—may I have the privilege of writing you?” He was visibly flustered now, and you couldn’t help but love him more every second.

“It would be an honor,” you told him, and he let out such a lovely laugh of triumph, shot through with such boyish joy, that you reached up and kissed him softly on the cheek. He grinned down at you like you were the world, and stroked your hair softly. He hesitated only a moment before placing an equally tender kiss onto your forehead.

“We should go back in,” you told him. “My mother will be delighted to hear that I’ve finally found someone.”

The Capture

Part II: The Breaking
Part III: The Burning
Part IV.I: Dissipation (COMING SOON)

A/N: First part of my first series! EXCITING! AND NERVE RACKING! VERY NERVE RACKING! This is mainly just build up/backstory to Part II; I actually began writing Part II first - that one’s the main attraction. BUT STILL READ THIS! It’ll make Part II much more enjoyable and understandable. Part II is heeeellllllla angsty though so get ready man
Word count: 1.5k+
Warnings: Injury, kidnapping, cursing

There was that jab again, in your left hip this time. And you flinched again, writhing on the table, laid on your stomach. You weren’t sure where you were, but that jab hurt like hell and you needed to leave.

A heavy breath filled your ear, hot and wet.

“What are we gonna do with you, Princess?”

Disgusted, you yanked away, fighting the bonds clasping your wrists together behind your back. It was no use. The rope, or whatever it was, tightened around your skin as you struggled, heavily restricting your movement. You felt a sharp pop in your shoulder and you gritted your teeth, grinding them together to fight the pain. It was like a fire, spreading down your arm and across your shoulder blade, licking your skin.

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Sweet, Sweet Victory

You’re a could’ve-been Olympic gymnastics champion now training someone else for the US team. He’s the current Women’s Head Coach who wants to take over her training. You two have a competition to decide who gets their way.

also known as

“Fuck You for It”

author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle)
pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader
word count: 5186
author’s note: I threw a little bit of the movie Stick It in here too for plot reasons. I hope you don’t mind!

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bts scenario | because i’m a man, i’ll hold your hand

Your visit to a haunted school building has your heart racing… but is that due to the possibility of seeing ghosts, or because of the extremely handsome boys you’re with? 

pairing: flirty BTS + you (What is this?? A reverse harem or something??)
genre: fluff, comedy… maybe?
word count: 3K

Originally posted by kths

It’s five seconds to midnight. You’d normally be tucked up in bed at this time of night, with your phone and a good Wi-Fi connection for company. Instead, you find yourself on an abandoned side of town, dressed in a tacky (and not very insulating) witch’s costume, in the company of seven excited boys.

“Apparently, this is the haunted school everyone’s been talking about,” Namjoon says, his breath coming out in clouds that mingle with the cool fog slithering around you.

You look up at the old building, with its boarded-up windows, and soot-stained walls. It’s the last place you’d want to enter on Halloween night. But the boys were rather insistent.

“Come on, Y/N. The night’s still young.”

“Yeah, you can’t go home just yet.”

“It’ll be so much fun.”

“You’ve got to!”

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Barnes’ Books - chapter 7

I may have got a little carried away this evening. 4000 word chapter carried away.  Sorry. No update tomorrow as I’m out!

See the Masterlist for previous chapters!

For the next week, I rejoin the real world. I get up, put on work clothes, sit at a computer, answer phones, drink communal tea, eat a sandwich, type, go home.  I talk to new people, go to a new place, earn some money. It’s good for me.

I hate it.

I know I sound like a brat, but I’ve loved being able to spend the day at the bookshop, before James’ accident. I loved the happiness books can bring, I loved talking to people, making coffee and washing up, helping unpack boxes, chatting to James. I’m trying to make the most of this week, it’s good CV-fodder, I do meet some nice people but it’s not me. And every day, while I’m inputting data, although I’m working hard, my mind is wandering. I’m thinking about the day I found the book for that woman, I’m thinking about curling up with Steve in an armchair. I’m thinking about making James laugh. I’m thinking about how sad Bucky looked.

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anonymous asked:

Can you please do an extremely bratty/witty reader with yoongi "I'm going to tie you up so you can't move and you won't be able to stop me from doing whatever I want."

Hi, anon! Thanks for dropping by! For this request, I decided to make it connected to the other smut request I got for Yoongi hihi :> This was un-edited, by the way HAHA so, I’ll apologize if there are any mistakes.

warnings/au: degradation, bondage, cursing, lawyer!reader au
word count: 1.9k

Sunny weather. The smell of the sea. White sand beaches.

The view in your hotel balcony was very ideal, but you were stuck in your room, instead of appreciating the world-class view the beaches of Boracay were offering. Your boyfriend was on his laptop, even if the two of you were in a three-day vacation outside Korea.

Beside you was your boyfriend who was busy editing some songs on his laptop. You could make out some music bars on the screen of his laptop, but you respected his privacy and chose to turn back to blowing bubbles into your iced Americano that was practically just water already. The ice already melted since it had been more than two hours since you called for room service. 

In other words, it’s already been two hours since he promised you that he was ‘going to finish this real quick that you wouldn’t be able to notice it.’

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(Translation) Reversible vol. 4

CV. Nakazawa Masatomo

T/N: SURPRISE!!!!!! In celebration of the sin bin’s 1 year anniversary, I have prepared a gift translation for y’all ♥ Thank you for the continuous support! Also, I’m dedicating this post to that one follower who donated to my paypal out of the blue (it was a good surprise!), thank you! I really appreciate it♥

This is based on the result of a poll that I put up sometime ago, as can be seen here:

Enjoy this long-awaited translation!! :) ♥

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"The Weight of Your World" -Part 3 (Final Part)

Lance wove Blue through the dense foliage of the planet carefully. He was forced to go slowly because he didn’t know how close the ground could be, he could hit it at any moment and end up crashing Blue. Whenever he tried to push forward faster, Blue gentle reminded him he was no good saving Keith if he crashed as well.
“Still no sign of Red?” Lance spoke out loud to Blue. He felt the solemn disappointment his lion emanated back to him. Lance sighed and bit his lip. If red wasn’t online then it could mean the worst for Keith. How would he survive a crash if Red couldn’t?
Lance shook the awful thoughts from his mind and focused back on traversing the intricate abundance of trees and leaves.
It felt as though it took him an hour to finally find the ground. He had entered the bush in what looked to be the point that Keith could have crashed through and formed a whole in the trees. If he couldn’t find Keith nor Red close by he would have to go back out and look for another possible crash sight. He didn’t have time for that.
“Keith!” Lance shouted out into the forest around him. “Keith! Are you out there!?” Nothing but silence greeted his calls. He began to trudge through the dense plants, using his Bayard to shoot through particularly thick areas.
“Keith, if you can hear me I’m coming for you!” Lance yelled out one last one as he continued to search for any signs of metal or the color red.
The lights had cut out inside Red’s cabin leaving Keith in pitch black darkness. His breathing was becoming more labored and his head was starting to feel funny. He forgot weather or not he was still bleeding and he didn’t quite care to check anymore.
Keith had tried to cut through Red from the inside but he quickly lost all of his strength and was left there barely conscious.
His eyes were growing heavier when he heard a faint noise. It almost sounded like a voice.
He closed his eyes, but a second later he heard the noise again but closer. He perked up a bit trying to listen closer. Again the sound was louder, and it was definitely a voice!
Keith activated his Bayard once again, but instead of using it to cut into Red he used the butt of his sword to hit the walls around him. He put all his strength into hitting the metal walls to create all the noise he could so hopefully he could be found.
Keith thought that maybe one of the aliens that inhabited the planets had stubbled across the lion, that was best case scenario. Either that or the galra had followed him to the ground and he was actively inviting them to capture him. He didn’t care which it was, though, he just wanted to breathe fresh air before he died stuck inside Red.
The voice became more excited sounding and louder and soon Keith heard knocking back from outside of Red.
A smile broke out across Keith’s face, he wasn’t going to die there. He still had a chance to see Lance and tell him how he get face to face.
Suddenly Keith’s lion began to power on, the lights were red instead of the normal white lighting though. With a loud creak, the doors began to open allowing Keith to see out towards the planet. “Red! You’re there!” Keith’s chest felt lighter and happy tears were forming in his eyes.
Red did not reciprocate his happiness though. He felt a heavy sadness from her along with a warmth in his heart. He didn’t understand what she was trying to tell him.
Until suddenly she slumped over, causing the door hatch to close slightly on one side, and all the power left her again. She had saved the last of her power to open up when she knew Keith would be safe.
“Red? Girl?” Keith called out for her. But she was gone again. Before he could worry too much he heard something by the entrance.
“Keith!? Keith!” A familiar voice rang out from the opening.
Keith turned and saw Lance struggling to crawl through the slanted entry way.
“Lance-” his voice was barely a breath.
Lance forced his way in and stumbled to Keith’s side. He kneeled and put a hand on Keith’s blood crusted cheek.
“Keith!” Tears welled up in Lance’s eyes. “I found you!”
“Lance!” Keith’s eyes brightened as he became more aware of what was happening. His lips quivered into a smile and a tear fell down his cheek. “Oh thank God! Lance!” He reached up and wrapped his arms around Lance and hugged him tightly. Lance gripped Keith close to himself and noticed the heavy rusty scent of blood.
Lance pulled away from the hug. “You’re injured badly, we need to get you back to the castle.” In a heartbeat Lance was barking orders into the communicator in his helmet to the rest of the team.
“Lance,” Keith tried to interrupt but Lance was busy hurriedly shouting coordinates to the team. “Lance!”
Lance stopped and looked back to Keith.
“Listen, before we do anything. I just need to tell you something.” Keith began, studying Lance face closely. “Before I crashed I tried to send a message through the comm’s. I don’t know if you got them, but I need to tell you..” Keith trailed off, terrified of saying that he loved Lance out loud again. It was so much easier when he thought he was going to die.
Keith looked away and his face heated with a blush. Lance grabbed Keith’s face and brought his lips up to his own. The kiss shocked Keith, but he quickly reached for Lance’s face as well and pulled him closer into the kiss.
Lance pulled away after a few long seconds, “I love you too Keith.” He smiled lopsidedly with a light blush fan in over his cheeks as well.
“I love you.” Keith repeated. “Lance, I love you.” He laughed and held Lance’s hand in his own.
Lance rested his forehead against Keith’s, “I’m just so happy you’re alive, Keith.” He placed one more gentle kiss on Keith’s lips and stood. “Can you stand? We need to get back to Blue so we can get you healed up. We’ll come back for Red later.” Lance out a hand out for Keith.
Keith grabbed Lance’s hand and hoisted himself into a standing position. He groaned and bit down on his tongue in pain. He was hurt bad, but he didn’t want Lance to worry too much.
“Come on, Blue isn’t very far. We can make it.” Lance gently coaxed Keith as he lead him out of Red and out into the forest.
Keith was struggling to keep pace with Lance so Lance slowed and helped him walk.
Keith couldn’t believe it, it was too good to be true. He wasn’t going to die and Lance told him he loved him back? How did he know he wasn’t dreaming.
As happy as Keith was, something still didn’t feel right. Something was off.
A cracking noise from behind them alerted Keith. “Lance!”
“What? Are you okay?” Lance turned to face Keith with a worried expression. He held onto both of Keith’s hands.
“I’m fine, I just thought I heard something.”
“Heard something? There’s no way. We’re far from any civilization on this planet and no one knows we’re here.”
Keith was skeptical, something still didn’t feel right to him.
Lance saw the persistence in Keith’s eyes. He gripped his hands tighter, “We’re gonna be okay, Keith.”
Keith’s eyes widened in fear. The second Lance said that his feeling that something was wrong escalated dramatically. “Lance!”
Lance looked at him in confusion and gently rubbed his thumb over Keith’s hands. “We’re gonna be okay-” Lance repeated himself, but the last word sounded off, like he had choked on something as he said ‘okay’. Lance’s grip on Keith’s hands also tightened considerably, almost painfully, as if Lance had unexpectedly been punched and he flinched.
Keith saw the expression in Lance’s eyes go from gentle to fearful to pained in the matter of seconds.
“Lance?” Keith asked worried.
Lance’s grip was still too tight on Keith’s hands. Keith saw Lance’s mouth twitch up into a small smile. Lance glanced down at something, but Keith had his worried gaze glued onto lance’s face.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and all at once at the same time.
A trickle of blood pooled out of Lance’s mouth and his eyes slowly became unfocused. He coughed, splattering blood across Keith’s face. “It’ll be okay.” Lance’s voice croaked through the blood in his mouth.
His too-tight grip became lax and his knees buckled as he limply fell forward into Keith’s arms. His head hung over Keith’s right shoulder and protruding from his back was a long, black and purple spear that had impaled him from behind, straight through his heart.
Keith’s eyes were wide with shock. He froze there with Lance’s limp body in his arms as he struggled to keep their weight up. His breath caught in his throat, like he was underwater and couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t make a move!” A voice rang out as several Galran soldiers piled out around them in a circle. “We do not wish to hurt one of our own kind, but we will if you force us.” The same Galran shouted out.
Keith fixed his gaze on the body in his arms and his body began to tremble. Lance’s body was becoming too heavy to hold.
Keith fell to his knees, arms still tightly gripping Lance to him, holding Lance up.
“No-” Keith shuddered a sobbing breath. “Lance.” He choked out as he trembled harder. His body couldn’t seem to move, refusing to drop Lance even as he seemed to grow heavier.
Keith’s brain was finally processing everything. The warm blood pooling at his knees, blood that wasn’t his, the limp and unresponsive body in his arms, the body of Lance… It was so damn heavy.
“Lance! No!” Keith cried out desperately. “Lance!” He held onto his body tightly.
The Galran soldiers silently stood and watched as Keith sobbed and cried Lance’s name. Eventually everything blurred into prolonged screams, ear shattering screams. They just stood there and watched as Keith’s world shattered. They were unmoved by the heart wrenching screams coming from Keith.

It was so heavy, the weight of his world, in his arms. He really couldn’t save it in the end.

creideamhgradochas  asked:

well, you already know I vote for a follow up to #30 (almost sex in a morgue drawer) But also, #37. “Because I love you god damn it!” with my man Bucky, please?

looook can i top almost-sex in a morgue drawer? idk…. but i’ll give it a shot ;) and i kindaaa changed the prompt a little bit for this but not too much! i hope you enjoy :)

#37: “Because I love you god damn it!”

You come back from your mission feeling completely wrecked. All you want is to collapse in your bed and not have to be conscious for at least day. You’ve got bruises in places you shouldn’t have  bruises, it hurts to breathe, and you’re pretty sure you’ve done something dodgy to your wrist. It’s not that big of a deal - the rest of the team have had plenty worse - but you ache and you just want your bed.

But first, water. Then you can pass out for as long as you like.

Only when you enter the compound’s kitchen, someone is waiting for you. Bucky sits at the counter with his hood up, glare already on, and silently slides the glass of water he’s already poured for you across the benchtop. You don’t even bother hiding your groan as you stop the water glass from sliding off the end of the counter. You are so not in the mood for Bucky’s shit.

“Why aren’t you in medical?” Bucky asks, his voice gravelly like he’d just woken up. FRIDAY probably woke him up to tell him you’d arrived back, because apparently he can’t leave well enough alone.

“I’m not injured,” you say, and take a long sip of water. It feels like cool heaven and instantly perks you back up - which unfortunately means you’re more aware of Bucky’s unimpressed glare, the lean line of his body as he gets up off the stool to approach you, the way he smells a bit like sleep and cigarettes when he comes to a stop right in front of you.

Bucky reaches for you, probably to check if you’re lying or not, and you flinch away. His hand comes way too close to your sore ribs, but the movement to get away from him jerks your body anyway and you fail to hide your wince. Bucky frowns, stepping closer to you even as you move further away, and reaches for you again.

“You’re lying,” he grumbles, glaring up at you through his eyelashes. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you snap, crossing your arms over your torso to ward him off as you back away. Your back hits the fridge, jolting you further but you manage to bite your lip and stave off your reaction to the pain that flares through your body. Unfortunately, Bucky now has you cornered and he’s a stubborn bastard, so he won’t leave you alone.

Bucky raises one eyebrow at you and grabs your wrists, gently pulling your arms away from your body. His grip is still a bit too tight on your potentially sprained wrist, so you suck in a deep breath to stop yourself from groaning in pain. Bucky, of course, notices. He drops your uninjured wrist to inspect the sprained one, massaging his thumbs gently into the ligament to find where the pain is. You try and bite your lip to stop yourself, but when he hits the sprained part you gasp anyway.

You take your wrist out of Bucky’s grip and cradle it by your stomach, avoiding his eyes. Bucky doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the concern and frustration radiating off him in waves. You’re so tired, and you hurt all over, but the last thing you want is for Bucky to know and the overbearing weight of his concern for you makes tears sting at the back of your eyes. You just want to go to bed and be fine like everyone else but Bucky won’t let you, and it’s so frustrating all you want to do is scream.

Bucky goes for your ribs next, softly sliding his hands on either side to feel for tender spots. The whole area is tender and you flinch away from him again, but he chases you back against the fridge so you’re crowded into it. All you can see is him. It’s overwhelming, and you try to remove his hands with your one good one but it doesn’t work. He rubs his thumbs into your skin and presses his fingers in until you cry out, thunking your head back against the fridge door as the pain gets too much.

“It hurts that much?” he murmurs softly, and you almost wish he was still angry with you because it’s easier to deal with than pity. Or sympathy, or concern, or whatever the fuck it is that always has Bucky chasing after you and sticking his hands in things that don’t concern him.

Tears well in your eyes without your permission as you glare at him, which probably lessens the impact. “It’s fine, it’s just a couple of bruises. I’m just fucking tired, ok? Let me go to bed.”

“It’s not,” Bucky says, growing frustrated again. Part of you is pleased, but part of you just wants to sob like a child. “Just admit you aren’t fine for once in your damn life. Are you really so proud that you can’t accept you get hurt?”

“I’m not proud,” you sneer, “I’m just not fucking injured, alright? I’m sore, that’s it - I’m fine.

“Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice interrupts, oddly quiet like she’s nervous of interrupting - if AI’s can get nervous. “(Y/N) has a fractured rib on her right side. Her wrist is sprained, and there is significant bruising to the rest of her ribcage.”

“Fucking hell,” Bucky breathes, like it’s been punched out of him. You have to blink up at the ceiling to stop the tears that threaten to fall, especially when Bucky slides his hands up your arms to grip your shoulders and squeeze.

“It’s fine,” you whisper - any louder and your voice might crack. “I’m fine, Bucky, please just stop.”

“You aren’t fucking fine,” Bucky growls. You know he isn’t really angry at you, but you still recoil from the force of it.

“Please,” you beg, “It’s not that bad, everyone else goes through a lot worse and comes out fine-“

“That’s a load of fucking bullshit and you know it,” Bucky snaps, still gripping you tightly so you can’t slip away. “Everyone else goes to medical when they’re hurt and gets fixed up! You hide serious injuries like you can just sleep them off but you can’t, that’s how you fucking die, (Y/N)!”

“If I went to medical every time I got hurt I’d never leave the damn place!” you hiss. “Don’t you get it? I’m not like you or Steve with the serum that heals everything in a day, or Tony in his suit, or Bruce when he’s hulked out. I’m not a god, I’m not Natasha or Clint who can’t be beat at what they do - I’m just human, I get beaten, I get hurt. It makes me a fucking liability, and I’m sick of letting people down.”

“You aren’t letting anyone down by admitting when you’re hurt. It’s worse when you don’t, because then we can’t take care of you and you hurt yourself more,” Bucky says, softer now, like you might break. You hate it, you hate the way he rubs his thumbs into your the hollow of your collarbones and ducks his head to look into your eyes so you can see just how much he means it. You hate it because you really, really don’t, and you feel pathetic for it. Why does letting him take care of you feel like the end of the world?

“Why do you care anyway?” you say harshly, “You can’t do anything about it, and me being hurt doesn’t affect your life any way-“

“You really think that?” Bucky snaps, his grip tightening on you slightly. “You’ve got to be fucking dumb to think it doesn’t affect me.”

“Oh yeah?” you seethe, leaning into his face as anger courses through your body. “If I’m so dumb, then fucking explain it to me, asshole! Why do you care? Give me one good-“

“Because I love you!” Bucky cries, stepping away and throwing his hands in the air. They fall to his side with a thump, so much louder now that you’ve fallen silent in absolute shock. Softer, with a little, self-depreciating laugh, Bucky says, “God damn it, I fucking love you and it kills me when you do this. It makes me crazy, I can’t- I just want you to be ok and you won’t let yourself. Please, just- let me take care of you. Or someone, anyone, just stop doing this to yourself. If not for you, then for me.”

You can’t breathe, and not just because of the fractured rib. Bucky looks broken apart, standing there in his soft hoodie looking at you like you’re reaching into his chest and ripping his heart out with your bare hands. You want to tuck his hair behind his ear and hug him until he stops cracking apart, and you don’t know why you want those things so badly but you do. And he looks like he wants to do the same to you - the scariest feeling in the world is realising that, actually, you want that too.

“Say it again,” you say, and this time a few tears do fall before you can hold them back.

Bucky screws his face up in confusion and says, “What, you really want me to repeat all-“

“No, dumbass,” you say, rolling your eyes with a watery laugh. Now you can’t stop smiling as you ask, “Just the first bit - say it again.”

Bucky blinks, as if he can’t quite understand what you’re asking of him. But then he grins, big and lopsided and beautiful, and you never want to be responsible for taking that smile away from him again.

“I love you,” he says, stepping closer to you until your chests are bumping together every time you breathe. He cradles your cheek in his flesh hand and rubs his thumb along your jaw. He’s looking at you in that way that used to infuriate you, like you’re breakable - but now you get it, you get him. You’re just too precious for him to let shatter, no matter what it took.

He says again, leaning in to brush his nose against yours and breathe you in, “I love you.”

You sigh, closing your eyes at the feeling of him so close - his hand on your face, his breath on your lips, his metal hand sliding down to grip your hip and pull you close to him. You grin, and your lips catch against his. Just that little brush of contact sends sparks all the way down your spine, so much so you forget just how tired and sore you were a minute ago. This is all that matters now.

“I love you too, idiot,” you say, and not at all surprised to find that you mean it.

Bucky presses his lips to yours and it’s warmth and a calm, soothing light that numbs you all the way down to your toes. You tingle like when sunshine hits cold skin and it sparks you up for a second before settling into that comforting, all-over glow. All because he’s touching you, holding you, smiling against your mouth as you kiss and kiss until you can’t feel your lips, they’re so swollen.

“Let me put ice on your ribs and feed you grilled cheese,” Bucky mumbles against your mouth, between bruising, quick kisses.

You feel him grin before he’s even finished speaking, and you’re laughing before you remember how fucking much your ribs hurt and have to stop right away. But you can’t stop smiling, and it doesn’t feel like weakness when Bucky leads you back to his bed and makes you lie down and shut up while he fusses over you. It feels like love.